My Wonderful Mother

I LOVE her. Set in stone. Unchangeable. Blow wind, rale seas! Cause all manner of beasts to beckon themselves! Loose forth all manner of monsters, nightmares and villainy! Come havoc, blow, wind! I'm a sailor. I am used to your fury.

I shall slay you all. No mercy shall be deserved, nor shown.

We argue. (She has a great Wilma Flintstone chuckle, as well) Which is quite normal, for All Adult Members of My Family. Well, perhaps not All. There are the more docile and/or less argumentative among us. I, am a different matter. I enjoy a verbal battle. So she does, as well. Two of a kind. All we need is the eights to match the aces and Queen kicker.

We always end our arguments, conversations, political differences, etc., with the words: "I Love You." I tend to favor the quote: "Who Loves Ya', Baby?" (Telly Savalas, Kojak.)

I am The Adventurer, Vagabond, Killer of Fish, Protector of Small Children Near Bears, Assailant of Obnoxious Cooks in Restaurants, Climber of Mountains That Shouldn't Be Climbed, Carrier Of Arms, Large And Small and a bunch of other crap that might go on for a paragraph or two. Some of which should not be mentioned here. I have fired a .50 cal. Quad. We'll let that one out of the cage. just f'er G.P.. Fuck it, It was about 100 years ago.

I shall not continue with questionably legal personal exploitations. I smuggled rubies once. End of story.

I LOVE this photograph. I have a tent exactly like it. It's a Walrus, 4-Season, XT-3. I don't know where this photo was taken but, have been many places like it. Start at Norton Sound, Alaska, and continue to Tierra del Fuego, the Peru side. Place your right hand above, index finger out, thumb down, your left hand below (Who cares how it's positioned?) Buy a sextant, learn to read a ship's compass, read GPS/Weather data and a good map with fathoms noted. Or, learn to: "mark twain." There's y'er map. Use it well. Mark twain, steer clear of danger and beware the sea monsters. Sail well. Find safe harbors. Red skies in evening. All that.

"Don't fergit ta' git y'er belly shaved."

After an argument with The Universe, (Or, one's Mom) One always feels like a Loser. Or, an "Equal."

I haven't "lost" yet but, I haven't "won," either. No fat gone, either way. "Part Of," I like to say. Fair play.

-Out Of The Doc And: "Into The Fore! Bring It On! I'm Steady-Eddie And Ready," Sonofabitch, I am!