Waiting for the Dead to Talk

Everybody’s telling me to wait for signs from Rob.

“He’s there, he’s guiding you, his spirit is watching over you, he’ll give you a sign…”

One friend, only a week or two after Rob passed, told me that he hugged her.  I wanted to ask her why he would hug her first, and not me, but I didn’t have the nerve.

I shared with friends that a hummingbird came and hovered over Rob’s red impatiens last month.  Someone told me it was Rob himself, coming to visit me and cheer me.  I said, “Rob was not a hummingbird.  He was a hawk, or an eagle.  He was not a hummingbird.”

I talk to Rob all the time, but I get no answers.  I don’t even get the sense that he’s there listening.

Someone told me to pay more attention to my dreams, that perhaps Rob can only visit me in dreams.

Thursday night I had the most vivid dream ever, but in my dream I was sitting on a couch with Hillary Clinton and asking her why she feels entitled to the White House.  I made the mistake of calling her “Mrs. Clinton” and she made very clear to me that I should address her as “Madame Secretary” before telling me that it’s not for me to second guess her motives nor deny her her place in herstory.

Rob was nowhere in sight, in this dream, nor has he been anywhere but in photographs, lately.



Harry Houdini wanted desperately to reach out to his mother’s departed spirit.  So much so that he apparently visited each and every so called medium in an effort to have his mother visit earth after she passed.  Harry ended up exposing each and every so called medium as a fraud.

I’ve come to the conclusion that once a person is dead, they are really and truly dead.

Perhaps that’s the way they want it.

Perhaps it’s what we should let them have.

Pure quiet, and peace.


An image from Max Ernst‘s Une Semaine de Bonté

An assayer is a person who tests ores and minerals and analyzes them to determine their composition and value. They may use spectrographic analysis, chemical solutions, and chemical or laboratory equipment, such as furnaces, beakers, graduates, pipettes, and crucibles.


Vice President Joe Biden charged that Mitt Romney’s policies on banking would put Americans “back in chains,” NBC News reported.

Biden, known for his over-the-top rhetoric, made the comment in a campaign stop in Danville, Va. It apparently stems from Romney opposition to financial reforms enacted by the Obama administration in response to the 2008 financial crisis.

“Romney wants to, he said in the first 100 days, he’s gonna let the big banks again write their own rules,” Biden said according to NBC. “’Unchain Wall Street!” Biden added, “They’re going to put you all back in chains.”

The Romney campaign labeled the remarks as a “new low” after weeks of “slanderous and baseless accusations leveled against Governor Romney.”


Speak to me as if I am a small child or a Labrador Retriever.

What is happening exactly?

Jeremy Irons (Margin_Call)

In the beginning of Margin Call, Kevin Spacey is in tears….his dog is dying. He complains to his confessor that the dog is costing him a thousand bucks a day just to keep the poor bugger alive after it was discovered that he has a cancerous tumor on his liver.

Have you ever lost a pet? Have you ever had to bury a pet? More later!

Tucci, one of my favorite actors for over two decades plays the man who discovers in his role as a seasoned predictor of havoc in some Wall Street firm (that is most probably Goldman Sachs) that Armageddon is near. The year is 2008 and all hell will soon break through as a direct result of four or five years or more of bundling ARM mortgages for sale to the world.

Zachery Quinto plays the assayist as I have defined the term in the context of this film critique.

You might recall Mr. Quinto in another role involving superheroes of a sort!

Quinto’s character is given a computer ‘disc’ from Tucci’s character and begins working with the info contained therein at two in the morning only to discover that the entire American Financial Structure (I capitalize everything in order to give my readers awe; kind of like when repubs capitalize the name ‘Reagan’) is about to capsize into a sea of sewage created by a mortgage scam perpetrated by fascist pricks who head the American Capitalist system.

Quinto then communicates his findings to his boss and his underling and chaos ensues.

Spacey is eventually called to return to the scene of the crime and we witness one of the best board room meetings I have ever seen.

Spacey (who looks older and more haggard than usual and worn by his years working for the devil) must answer to the idiot posing as his superior (played by Simon Baker the Australian whose performance just knocked my socks off!).

Baker’s character demands to know the credentials of the fellow played by Quinto and is informed that the genius who figured out how the world was about to end has several degrees in physics and computer software.


One of the best lines ever delivered in all of cinema!

As background we all know that we are in our current economic dilemma because of Mitt-like bastards who bundled mortgages sold to folks who had no idea what the final monthly fee would be for those mortgages.

Jeremy Irons shows up in a helicopter on the top of the skyscraper housing the fraudulent folks selling the bundles of crap that Quinto has proved to be more worthless than polls created by Pudge Luntz.

(I just viewed Irons playing Klaus Van Bulow and if you cannot keep from an urge to shoot the sonofabitch, you are a better man than me!)

Irons plays the CEO of this fictional doppleganger of Goldman-Sachs.

Irons plays the bastard who demands that Quinto speak to him as if he were a child or a dog.

Irons represents everything I hate about this country with an English accent. Hahahahaha

Based upon the rocket scientist’s findings, the order is sent out to kill all the newborn babies in the empire…or rather sell the worthless crap that has emanated from the fascist organization for years to unsuspecting buyers (unsuspecting fascist pricks who represent millions of investors per unions and trusts and whatever) as quickly as possible.

Spacey, who still has managed to keep some of his humanity following decades of working for these fascist pigs, gives the pitch to all his underlings (whereby we learn that he really has lost 99% of his humanity decades before) that they must do everything they can to sell all interests in these bundles within an hour or two of the opening bell and that in return they will all most likely lose their jobs but gain between one mill and three mill in bonuses!

If we are successful today, you shall lose all of the trust you have ever had with your buyers….

But our talents have been used for the greater good!

Kevin Spacey

The worthless feces is sold on the market that morning following the opening bell by liars hoping to make a million bucks out of nothing.

As the credits run, Kevin Spacey is digging the grave for his dog and the sound of the digging lasts longer than the scene as the credits run.

I have had to bury a dog or two during my worthless lifetime and let me tell you that there is real grief experienced in the process.

I recall the last time I participated in this lonely ritual of internment, and I felt so lost and so aching and so helpless.

Spacey ends up being the greatest actor in the film that features so many great actors.

And as I viewed this film for the fourth time, I realize that Spacey best reflects what is wrong with this nation and not the Iron’s character.

The real number reflecting despair and loss perpetrated by corporate pigs like those running Goldman-Sachs and other corporate vampires amounts to hundreds of millions of real people losing everything all at once.

I did have one thought.

What if this film had come out this year instead of two years ago?

Then I recalled that the film aired in 2010 when the morons who voted in that year’s election threw out the House majority in favor of more vampires.

So what the hell?

We’re all goin to hell.




I am watching ( A REPLAY) of Al at 9:00 PM ( July 25, 2012) give a speech on the Senate Floor today. (via CSPAN)

He was eulogizing Tom Davis his old partner, his old partner at SNL and at our local comedy club at the U fifty years ago.

I am crying.



It was in the early days of SNL that you might have heard this.

I knew immediately what that sonofabitch was doing.

But so did everyone else.

And it worked!

Well Davis was his old partner.

And Tom Davis just died of cancer and Al thought:

I am going to speak of my best friend’s death on the floor of the United States Senate!

And Al did.

And I love Al.

And I am awed by Al.

And I shall grieve the death of Tom Davis.

A wonderful eulogy. For sure!

That’s all I got right now!



If Paul Wellstone had not died, not 20 miles from where I write this in 2002 October, Al would never have run for the US Senate.

Paul was my god and now Al is my Saint!

That’s my Senator along with Senator Amy;




I am viewing the entire BBC/PBS episodes of a great series that shall continue into the next year.

Most people live quiet lives of desperation.

So says McLuhan!

I have become caught up in a a BBC series entitled:

Foyle’s War

The mystery/cop series is set in Hastings, England during the Blitz and first aired in 2002.

I am currently viewing Set 2, Episode 4 (2003) entitled FUNK HOLES!


Michael Kitchen plays Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle; the chief police officer of Hastings.

I underline this particular episode because we find ourselves in FUNK HOLES.

What prey tell is a FUNK HOLE?

Well it seems that by 1940 during the Blitz, the economically superior classes left London and the larger cities and sought haven in the countryside hoping to escape reality.

And the country-gentry who owned large estates in the ‘country’ needed money.

So the country-gentry naturally turned their homesteads into inns or hostelries as they say.

Now the local markets, subjugated by new rationing rules and regs (much like us a few years later) found that they could not procure adequate products for their old markets let alone the new markets available for the noveau riche (who were not really that noveau! ha).

Therefore, the local markets which were cheating anyway, could no longer supply the richer folks in their own areas since the old more aristocratic Funk Holers would pay three or four times what the old market would bear for a simple pound of liver!



I most probably heard those words from three primary teachers and then fifteen professors later on in life.

This series, which I most probably will critique later on, underlines the fact that there is more to historical eras than hats and pants and language and….

So many Brits were without allies on the national scene and without hope following the destruction of their homes. FDR loomed more magnificent in the minds of hundreds of millions of Europeans as the war waged on during our isolationist period increasing of course, following our entry into the war.



Anyway, this blog is not a movie critique but an analysis of the FUNK HOLERS!

As this episode in Foyle’s War progresses we are introduced to the residents of these Funk Holes.

Besides cheating the locals out of their meats and their exotic foods (exotic in the sense of potatoes and carrots), the funk holers cheat. I mean they purchase all the available under-the-table commodities.

The one resident couple of a local funk hole that really got to me, ended up with canned ham which was directed toward their dog!

An amazing comment on humanity since in a previous episode we are confronted with a 1940’s version of Oliver where the waifs collected paper and metal for the war effort in an attempt to procure chocolate from the local parishes!

Why Oliver & Co. did not end up with the canned hams presents us with the concept of the aristocracy’s concept of ‘choice’.


Nowadays we have witnessed a new class of FUNK HOLERS.

They do not merely hide in the Hamptons or in the country side of Hastings hoping not be be found out, hoping not to be confronted and hoping that the present ‘difficulties’ shall one day be resolved.

We find people BRAGGING that they are indeed FUNK HOLERS.

Joe Walsh is an example of the present day braggerts; proud to be FUNK HOLERS.


Joe finds himself confronting his own fascist/NAZI persona without one month served in the Armed Forces of anything.

And he finds himself in the FUNK HOLE and finds himself, once again, competing against a severely wounded and disabled veteran!


I mean this motherfucker will not even pay his proper child support whilst he spends his entire oratorical life espousing family values besides national duty!

Again, as I have underlined many many times, hypocrisy has no value as a category anymore.

John Kerry who chose to volunteer for his country’s armed forces rather than accept a printed message telling him that he was drafted, went on two tours (THAT’S TWO TOURS FOLKS) in that magic land of Siam. I mean during his first tour he certainly discovered that there was no Yul Brenner and there certainly was to be found no Deborah Kerr!

Well he gets wounded twice and at the 2004 Repub Convention, all of these FUNK HOLERS are wearing symbols making fun of John’s Purple Hearts.


And the repubs wear pretend band aids.

Whilst the FUNK HOLER Bush had no Purple Hearts, no tours of Siam and not one incident of combat because he used his aristocratic station in life to avoid conflict. Speaking of avoiding conflict, after a couple years, w bush found the terrors of the sky too much to his liking and so he hid away in his daddy’s campaign whilst the people in power destroyed any documentation that might have substantiated his true tao in life!


As Cheney once said:

I pursued other options.

But let us remove ourselves from the battlefields for a second.

There are battlefields that involve no tanks, no drones, no rifles and no bombs.

The battlefield we currently find ourselves upon involves homelessness, hopelessness and unemploymentness.

The FUNK HOLERS have no idea what unemployment means.

The FUNK HOLERS have no idea what homelessness means.

The FUNK HOLERS have no idea of what hopelessness means.

The FUNK HOLERS have no idea of what context means.

The FUNK HOLERS have no idea of what a GODDAMN LOTTERY MEANS.

The FUNK HOLERS would have no idea what being a patriot really means.


Mitt Romney is the ultimate FUNK HOLER.

He hid in Paris to avoid a war that initially began because of French policies.

He hid in Massachusetts so that his governmental policies could be hid by rationalizations.

He hid his assets all over the globe so that he would not pay his share of taxes to his country of origin.

He hid his faith so that his faith, the core of his belief, would not be analyzed too closely.

He hid his his assets so that those assets would not be analyzed too closely.

He hides his real financial backers so that those corporate sponsors will be caused no harm.

He hides his true aims for AMERICA so that real Americans shall never be allowed to see the perils that they shall all experience once he reaches power.

So let us all give it up to the:



1.  Look, I am doing the best I can.

2.  How else can my great grandchildren get into college?

3.  My pets deserve something special from me!

4.  Hernandez does a great job on my lawns as well as my sex craved wife.

5.  I just love Negroes; my mother knew one.

6.  Everyone should be free; just so that they can pay their bills.

7.  Humanity shall always be confronted by warfare; just leave my family out of it!

8.  But if you all do that, I lose my plantation!











The Bard (ca. 1817), by John Martin

I am watching Dylan: Revealed.

On Netflix.

If you are looking for music like the Last Waltz you are going to be disappointed. There is little by the way of music.

But I learned something.

I watched Charlie Rose recently and he was interviewing an English Actor with whom I have little experience; and yet I am familiar with Bill Nighy. I always get a kick out of Bill.

He had a part in Love_Actually. (A silly nonsensical take on xmas in London!. But I loved the film—so what?)

Nighy went to all the proper British Schools for training and such. And in Love Actually he plays this nothing musician who apparently had one or two big time tunes and was lost forever as far as the public was concerned.

He ends up taking off all his clothes playing some silly xmas tune and is revived.

Bill is wonderful. He wanted to play in Pinter Plays or those written by Stoppard or Brenton or Gill…


But he normally eschewed Shakespeare. And the manner in which he handles his anti-Shakespearean slant with Rose is wonderful. Hahahahah.

This actor maintained that Dylan was his favorite singer!

This comment from Nighy just amazed me!


And then I relistened (is that a word) to some older Dylan songs.

And I thought:



Instead of staying mad and incredulous I thought:

Hell, I would rather listen to Dylan than anybody else.

Continue reading “NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE”

Tales from the Psychiatric Nurses Station – Child/Adolescent Part 1

It has been a while since I’ve written on here so I thought I would come on and say hello.  Alot has happened on the unit that I have worked for about a year.  Among the lack of sleep from my thoughts racing due to the kids on my mind from all of their traumas to being in school again to work on my Bachelors degree.  I’d like to give you two the brief case studies  on my most memorable patients and how they’ve impacted me.

Over the past year I have learned a lot about child and adolescent psychiatric care.  Never before in my life did I think a small child would have to endure the pain, horror, and terrifying abuse that some of these children have had to face. Seeing the look on the faces of these children who have been sexually abused by relatives, family friends, or rarely strangers; rips at your very soul.  I find sleep escapes as the child’s face enters my mind’s eye, an image of them cowering in the corner fills my thoughts. I’m paralyzed with reality and I am not a confused child who is inexperienced in the trials of life and all that is evil.  I am not the abused.  The same child has been to 4 or 5 different foster homes in the span of 4 weeks.  She has no one to love her and she asks me “can you be my mommy?”

Continue reading “Tales from the Psychiatric Nurses Station – Child/Adolescent Part 1”