Basket of Thoughts

Thoughts from my mind to the internet

2020. A year that will forever remain, as one that marks the history books. Ranging from a pandemic to riots and protesting there was an awful lot crammed into these 12 months. A very large majority of it being pretty shitty for most people. On the other side of the coin, some had found a way to flourish. This year also took some pretty big names from us as well. Two of the more recent ones but most significant to me, were the deaths of Eddie Van Halen and Alex Trebek. Those bummed me out. Overall for me I was fortunate to remain mainly unscathed throughout this year. I was able to stay employed and don’t tell anyone…. I even got a bump in pay. I fucking earned that shit though, so it felt quite deserved. I had my car get totaled not due to accident but due to flooding it driving through deep water. It was deeper than it had looked. It’s ok though because I now have a 2005 black Cadillac. She’s older but it feels like driving a cloud. I like it. Despite so many things happening throughout the world this year to be honest very little happened to me. Wait, I take that back. I did have an amazing trip in Europe with my brother and friend. Right as the shit was starting to hit the fan with COVID. It was interesting because that was all we saw on the news over there. We all ended up getting sick during the course of the trip as well. Did we have it? Who the hell knows, it’s possible. I still think it was from swimming in the Mediterranean Sea that night. Other than that trip it was mostly just work for me. Let’s look forward to what will hopefully be a better year for everyone. Happy New Years to you all!

The demons in my head

They are beckoning

They will not stop

They must be fed

So I must write

To give them breath

Or else it’s me

I’m found dead

No need to panic

I’m just fine

Just needed to get

Things off my mind

It’s crazy, this genius

That constantly hides

Inside laziness

A brilliance resides

Thankfully forced

To release my mind

Here and there

Not often enough

I fight within

Call my bluff

Force myself to writing

Words that mean nothing

Today at work my manager had sent me a message with a link. I clicked on it and it was the breaking news that Ellen Page was now transgender and is now going by Elliot Page. Now, if you don’t know who Ellen Page was/is, she is an actress. The film she is probably most well known for is the lead role of a movie called “Juno”. She also starred in a series on Netflix called “The Umbrella Academy”. This got me to thinking about the whole transgender movement. I call it a movement because that’s sort of how it feels like to me. I don’t want to come off as being an asshole but I know by the time I finish this post that there will be some that think I am. That’s fine. Anyways, I have nothing against it. People can do what they want with their bodies and often they do. Shit, you notice all the face tattoos out there now. We were all thinking Mike Tyson was fucking crazy when he did it. Now it’s the thing to do. Not my thing and honestly I think it looks fucking dumb on most. It looks like an attention grab to me. Our culture has turned into a driving constant need for attention. Shit, look at the fucking dickhead that’s on his way out of the White House. No bigger attention whore than that cunt. Now now, let’s reel it back in and get back to the topic. Topic being, the influx and increase in transgender people. Now it could be because things are looser now and things are more acceptable so people are more comfortable coming out about it. That’s a great thing and I’m happy for them for that. However, to be brutally truthful, I think its mental illness. I think this because if you are born with a penis you are a male. If you are born with a vagina you are female. If you are the extremely rare circumstance and are born with both, you are a hermaphrodite. That is science and fact. If you look up the definition of transgender it states a person that identifies as the opposite sex as what they are born as. That is not science. I’m sorry but in my blog we lean towards science, facts, and common sense. So, if you are born with a vagina but feel like you want to be male…. IT DOES NOT MAKE YOU A MALE! There I fucking said it. You do have those like Caitlyn Jenner who go forth and have operations… That’s a bold move but go for it. I could be completely wrong but I feel, like with face tattoos, it’s an attention grab for some. The danger with that is, it is an influence for younger people going through the awkwardness of puberty and it could convince some of them they are when they may not be. Bottom line is I guess I just don’t understand it. Wait a moment, I feel this blog has gotten me a tad emotional… I’ll end for now feeling like a woman.

The shit show that continues in the U.S. The petulant child, who is supposed to be in charge of the country can’t handle the results of the election. He’s fighting tooth and nail to prove his claims of voter fraud are true. Now, I’m sure there are smidgens of fraud in every election we have had. Invalid votes get counted when they shouldn’t but for the most part there aren’t enough to sway the election. Not to mention if they are deemed close enough a recount would be done. A majority of the cases Trump has filed have been tossed away because they are making false claims with zero evidence. The ones that are being looked at, well, the number of ballots in question wouldn’t make a fucking difference anyways. The other thing to look at which I’ve already mentioned in a previous post, is worth stating again. The votes show a complete rejection of Trump due to the fact that the Senate will still belong to the Republicans and they also gained seats in the house as well. So, in the long run Trump needs to finally put on some adult pants and concede already. Enough of the bullshit…. Oddly enough, that reminds me of something I had seen on my way to work about a month ago. I was behind a truck that had a “Trump Pence 2020 No More Bullshit” sticker on the left rear window. There was also a sticker on the right rear window with a cartoonish character that read “If you don’t like Merica’ then get the fuck out!”

He was driving a Toyota Tacoma.

Author’s note: I originally had a lot more I wanted to say in this post but I thought I would end it there for the sense of humor. Hopefully, you find the irony funny. If not I apologize.

I think it’s safe to say that we won’t ever trust the polls again. To be honest I’ve never had any faith in them to begin with. Needless to say, events have seemed to unfold as it was theorized. The beginning votes all around would be showing much higher for Trump and I actually went to bed bed not knowing until this morning that HE had declared he was the winner. Now, it wasn’t surprising to hear of this as this was also something that was predicted and actually even proclaimed by his campaign. They said they would declare victory if he was ahead that night. Not so fast bucko. Not all the votes are in and with there being so many mail in votes to be counted the numbers surged for Biden. Now, it’s still possible Trump wins the electoral. If that’s the case, fine. It is what it is and we move on. However, it is absurd for ANYONE to find it acceptable to stop counting votes if there are some to be count. The only one who has mentioned and brought the idea of the election being rigged has been Trump. He has put so many toxic, illegitimate thoughts into his base’s minds and they believe it. Take for example Qanon. That is a completely and 100% false conspiracy theory. But they lap it up like WAP (wet ass pussy). So if they believe that farce they will certainly believe his claims of cheating in the election. The sad thing is, it wouldn’t even be up for debate if it were the popular vote. It’s all because of the dumb fucking electoral college. Now, I’ve heard the whole reasoning behind it being because the major cities would decide the election…. Excuse me, what??? That makes no fucking sense to me. Yeah, there are more people that live in cities but it’s one person, one vote. How does living in a densely populated area as opposed to less populated make a fucking difference? I mean, don’t we elect our governor’s and senators based on popular vote or am I missing something? Why should the presidency be any different? Anyways, it’s the shit show that has been expected. I hope the violence doesn’t happen. Violence that has also been cited by Trump. I think America needs to take a long, hard look in the mirror and ask themselves if we like what we see. I know I don’t. I feel shameful seeing all the self centered only me attitude everywhere. Trump is like Reagan in a sense, not only by plagiarizing the Make America Great Again slogan but they also both trickled something. Reagan had the trickle down economics and Trump has created trickle down narcissism. Get over yourself America, we aren’t looking that great to the world.

Esther Rosenbaum froze in panic. Her strong will and survival instinct unthawed her quickly as she stealthily ducked behind the pile of shoes. The shoes of her fellow people who had been murdered. If she was seen by the Shutzstaffel she would be among them. There were several she could see, thankfully all either with their back turned or staring off elsewhere. As grotesque as it made her feel, she felt no better option at the moment then to burrow herself into the shoes. She managed dig to herself a niche and found an odd comfort in the pile as she dozed to sleep.

Esther screamed in fear as she was grabbed by firm hands out of the pile of shoes. The soldier squared her up in front of him and shook her while yelling at her. “Mom! Mom! What are you doing?”

Norman shook his mother trying to bring her back to reality. He felt a sudden guilt, knowing how long it had been since he had last visited. The house was a disaster and his mother had become a hoarder. The major thing she hoarded was shoes and he found her dug into a pile of them. As he was gathering his thoughts over the strange pattern of behavior, Esther came out of her fugue and embraced Norman.

“Oh Norman, I’m so happy to see you!”

“Good to see you too, mom, but what were you doing in the pile of shoes? What is going on?”

Esther stood confused, unsure of how to answer it. Norman held her by the hand and said “Come on, mom let’s go sit in the living room.”

As they sat down Norman noticed the black and white photograph on the coffee table. He picked it up and looked at it in awe, realizing it was a photo of a pile of shoes from a concentration camp during the Holocaust. Tears welled up in his eyes as things became crystal clear to him. The crude and simple black “KL” tattoo on his mother’s left forearm wasn’t a stupid rebellious thing she had done just to spite her parents like she had told him when he was a kid. It was the permanent reminder of the horrors she saw as a child. The permanent badge of a survivor. The permanent scar that caused her to denounce her Jewish faith. The permanent nightmare she was still occasionally living due to dementia.

Author’s note: Happy Halloween! This was just a quick story that jumped into my brain. I hope you enjoyed it and I hope to get some more frequent posts up.

Welcome back to another story from a family cross country trip across the U.S.A. It was 1990 and I was 8 years old. It only took me 30 fucking years to finally decide to write about my memories from it. Anyways, on to the tale today. I literally do not remember anything from Salt Lake City, Utah other than remembering this experience. It was a warm night and we were getting prepared to eat dinner. We were going to have some pizza that we had gotten from a super market along the trip. Who doesn’t love pizza? I grabbed it hastily from my mom after it was cooked and took a gleeful bite. Almost instantaneously, my joy went to horror as my taste buds registered the toxic taste of styrofoam. Mind you I had never eaten styrofoam but thing about it, is that it has a distinct smell that creates the taste for you. I spit it out and immediately and stated “I can’t eat it this, it tastes like styrofoam.”

My father wasn’t buying it. He thought I didn’t want to eat it because it had green onion and pepper on it and at my age then, I wasn’t a fan and wouldn’t eat it. I pleaded my case and request he try it. He obliged and his reaction was immediate as well. Oh, what the fuck!? was definitely the look on his face, but I didn’t put in quotes because I can’t honestly say I remember his exact words. It wouldn’t surprise me though, if they were. So, let’s be a tale of caution as well. If you ever see pizza and its packaged with styrofoam on the bottom, be cautious because you may suffer the same fate. Blah, thinking of it now I can still taste it. So much so, that this is my sole, solid, memory of Salt Lake City, Utah.

On Tuesday morning of September 11, 2001 I was walking through the dish wash room at work when I foggy brained heard the news on the radio. A plane had hit one of the World Trade Center Towers. Without even a single hesitation a voice in my head said “Oh well, that’s definitely a terrorist attack”. Now, I’m not sure if it had been obvious to everyone at that time but it was my immediate thought.

Now, let’s delve into the night before shall we? I had done what is called candy flipping. It is when you take acid and ecstasy together. I can’t recall much of that night oddly enough, but knowing I had done that the night before makes the events of what was to happen the next day so burned in my mind. I had felt guilty going to work the next day after being fucked up all night. I remember my mushy brain the next morning and feeling numb hearing it. Almost as if it wasn’t really happening. I also, in a sick way, recall thinking, well, maybe we deserved it. Always trying to play the fucking World Police. It wasn’t until actually seeing the footage of the events, where it sunk in and was sobering. Despite how awful that day was. There was some good out of it. There was a period of unity. Unfortunately, it’s something we don’t seem to have at all currently. As I recall that day, I hope that we can rediscover that unity as well. Forgive but never forget.

In the post I wrote before this I had an intro regarding a cross country family trip. I wasn’t sure what direction to take with it. I wanted to write it chronologically but truth be told, I can’t remember the exciting and most memorable things in that order. This first tale I am going to tell is probably for me the memory that sticks in my mind and forever has since I had witnessed it. It was also on of my favorite places we had visited during the trip. We were in Wyoming and staying at a KOA (Kampgrounds Of America). It was also my favorite KOA we had stayed at as well. The wilderness there was beautiful and this was after there had been some wildfires that had done some significant damage throughout the park. I remember just from driving through some of it how amazed I was as an 8 year old kid to see the wildlife we were seeing. We saw a majority of gazelles and antelope. Most amazing to me though were the amount of buffalo we were seeing. In this specific memory. We were going along and saw a few cars pulled over up ahead. That was usually a good indicator that there was something nearby worth checking out. Boy, they were right. We got out of the RV and through the trees probably about a couple hundred feet away were two buffalo battling each other. They charged and butted heads with a thud, locking horns. They grunted and groaned as they battled for dominance until finally, with a thunderous thud one of them was tossed to the ground. I distinctly remember feeling the ground quake under my feet when it hit. The defeated buffalo made no efforts to put up more of a fight and that was the end of the conflict. With nothing left to see and being close enough to be in trouble should they charge, we packed into the RV and continued our trip. It was a memory that still sticks with me to this day. Experiencing the rawness of nature first hand is truly a spectacle to behold.

When I was 8 years old, I was fortunate to be the beneficiary of one of my father’s dreams. That dream being to go on a cross country trip across the United States. My father had been working for himself as a builder for 8 years at that time and had managed to save enough money to make the dream a reality. A while before leaving on the trip he set the gears in motion by purchasing a motor home that was in need of some work. With mechanical skills being a hobby, he made it a passion project. I can’t recall how long it had taken from the time he purchased it until it was ready for the road but it was the summer of 1990 when we set forth on a 5 week journey. My father had written a journal during that trip. Looking back at it now, I wish I had too. I’ve decided that even though it was 30 years ago, I am going to start posting up some memories I still have from that adventure. I’m a fool for not having written about them when I was younger and the memories were more fresh. Better late then never they say. I hope they’re right.

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