September 14th, 2009 by Life

Society made a field day of Father Bashing

Father Bashing

Hey, there’s a complaint that there’s abuse going on in that household. I heard the gossip floating across my fence about that house over there.

*They think the father should be tossed out of his house and thrown in jail.

*And how, the viciousness, the indignation, the just must be done for the kids…

The complaint was about someone first screaming at a 10 year old boy; then several slaps were planted hard on his face; he was pushed to the ground and then kicked and yelled at to get up; he was grabbed by the ear and dragged into the house. It’s a scenario still common 30 or 40 years ago…I still remember them and feel them all too well. That version of “discipline” should never be allowed. But this is a contemporary time. It’s today, such barbarism cannot be allowed.

I’m all for it…that violent person should be thrown out of the house and stuck in a barred facility somewhere.

The cops came and interviewed the father alright.

He was quized for over an hour. And so was the boy. 2 police cruisers sat outside the house for about 4 hours. An expectant crowd was now forming outside waiting to witness the expected outcome. Some kids even had rotten tomatoes and eggs ready. They all wanted to show this man what they tought of such violent abuse of your own kid…

At last, cowering under a jacket, the abuser was very firmly led out of the house by the arm and into the cruiser. But there was strange silence from the lynch mob. The father walked up to the cruiser and yelled, “We’ll make it, we’ll make it better, don’t fear, I love you”. Tears streaming down his face, he hugged his son as his wife, the boy’s mother was driven away.

Turning to the crowd, he told them all with courage, what are you all looking at? Go Home…

Like meek children they all did. Eyes to the ground and rotten tomatoes and eggs dropped on the lawns, the crowd dispersed – not one word of condolence or support…shamed.

Why is society so adamant to blame and lynch the father?

I’m not writing this to gloat. No, I did not participate in that fiasco. You see, I can tell you now, some similar incidents had occured to me.

Yes, it’s blame the father first syndrome.

September 13th, 2009 by Life

The Love Machine was the act I had not anticipated. Now, why was I ever at a Male Strip Tease venue?

Black Male Strip Tease

Perhaps any reader would understand my sexual orientation if I had gone to the Zanzibar – which features all manner of female strip tease acts. But a male version? Hey, are you…no, fully heterosexual, I assure you. But here’s how I got to be on a front seat for the show no less.

That was almost 2 decades ago. I tended a bar then for a couple of months and some waitresses decided it was time to take me out on the town since I was new to Toronto. Hey, who’s gonna say no to 3 georgeous young ladies taking you out on the town? Something didn’t seem quite right when I got in there. There were too many strangely dressed people in the audience.

The revue started and within a few seconds, I realized where we were. My female chaperones promptly held me to my seat on the front row laughng their heads off. OK, ladies, you got me…you’ve pulled a fast one on me. Right at the end of the show the lead male with his ever extended member between his loins covered in what seemed like a sock with strings gyrated and presented his erectness at the front seat people. I was appaled when one of the girls stuck a 20 dollar bill in my hand after waving it in the air. Here the big black hunk of muscles came and, being a good sport, I gingerly put that twenty into the “sock”.

Of course revenge can be sweet. Waving another 20, I stuck it into one of the waitresses’ mouths. With evil grin I watched as she had a facefull of shall we say sock as she slipped the 20 into it…blushing a beetroot red…taking a surprisingly long time with her firends cheering her on…hoo-boy! That was fun. So, this was the Love Machine.

The next moment Mr. Love Machine came down and started doing his version of a Caribean dance waving his long asset at the ladies inviting them to a dance. Of course, the 3 ladies accepted immediately and I basically ran for cover! I used one of the ladies as a shield and shoved her toward the Love Machine. I wasn’t having any more of that! Wrong sexual orientation. But, dear me, did she ever enjoy that embrace…

As can be expected the hoots and cheers of the audience was certainly loud enough and entertaining in itself. And I could hardly contain myself watching all these front row ladies groping, fondling and scratching this guy for all they were worth. And yes, even his oustanding appendage was not left alone for one second! Ladies, you’re such animals. In a female strip tease, men are not allowed to do any of that. But it’s anything goes here.

More drinks were served and the party began. Within a very short time, the Love Machine strutted by with a very voluminous and rather exposed member. His “sock” was very full of cash. And a huge satisfied smile on his face. I gave him the double thumbs up and he said,” Thanks Man…” Staring female eyes followed him until he dissappeared backstage.

September 9th, 2009 by Life

Just watching the Blue Angels doing their Wild Blue Yonder air show practice…memories flashing by me as the jets did.

Sky Jjango

If you’ve been flashing across the sky making those sonic booms way above the clouds, you’ll really understand what “Wild Blue Yonder” really means.

It’s just sky. You feel like there is no end to where you can go. The Sky’s the limit – literally. The sensation of speed isn’t there at all in that straight and level. You’re very simply getting away from it all. Like a dream world…until the flight commander or ground control wakes you up for the customary communique every minute.

Look behind and see the stream of white going back from the engine as far as the eye can see. It’s about the only physical sign of speed and how far we have gone. But now, time to wake up. We all must as the squadron of 4 are now due for manoevers. We made a somewhat gentle turn in a wide arc to find our imaginary counters pulling about 4 Gs. Anyway, this was to be my last pretend sortie in this fancy brand spanking new airborne racer of the early eighties.

Flying First Time eh What?

This is just some kind of training over the weekend for me. My thoughts started to wander as this now bores me. This is not the fun times I had when I first started in a Strike Master Trainer. My first instructor was an aging major from the British Air Force… He was always a lark and a half in the air and on the ground, giving me my emergency crash flying course. I was to be sent somewhere in the middle of Indochina and I needed to learn to fly these things. Flying wasn’t the problem – I took to it very quickly – racing cars on the ground helped, it was the landing that made for very interesting times.

This Major was certainly either way too eccentric or simply had a death wish. First time up and sitting beside me and he talked me down to land the StrikeMaster. After all, the airport was an international sized one during training and I simply can’t miss it. The first try was bumpy beyond sanity before coming to a halt. Emergency vehicles were all over the runway with flashing lights. No, we didn’t use the drag chute because we did that manoevre over a dozen times in 3 hours…the rest as they say, is history. And so far, I’ve always walked away from every landing.

My First Landing 

From the cockpit I could still see the first time I had to jump into the co-pilot seat in a Huey. The pilot was out of commission and we were leaking fuel. We barely got out of there intact raked by machine gun fire. The refugees were all still here, but we were in trouble. The warning signals were going off everywhere. Pointing the nose straight towards the base would be a 21 minute charge but we were losing fuel fast. This was going to be a  tense over the hill top run. They, the pilot and the refugees were all under my charge, my responsibility.

Providence?

Within sight of our small grassy airfield the engine sputtered and started to quit. Fuel’s gone. Still with some forward momentum, there was still some hope to not become part of the dense jungle scenery. Now, this chopper had very large rotors for a reason. It made a great autorotation with the blades. It had great lifting capability. Without engine power, if there was enough altitude, autorotation could be used to slow our vertical descent. But it also took great timing to flare the blades just before touch down to give it a final cushion of air to prevent a total crash – that I did with a prayer and landed with a mighty bump. There we all stayed – the wounded pilot, the refugees, and me – all in silent thank you prayers until the rescue guys came about 5 minutes later. We had just cleared the trees and onto the tall grass.

BTW, I wasn’t an official pilot yet then. Just did what I had to. Back to the final landing…yes, made very sure I walked away from this last one too.

September 8th, 2009 by Life

BMX rider getting some air time - wikipedia.

I’m just wondering how many adults remember the old BMX style dirt track racing we once created with our ‘cycles way back when. I still do – and it’s all of only yesterday.

Just turned teen and boy, did I ever love this new concept on using a bicycle.

Over dirt, steep hills, over tree roots, jumpover humps or hillocks – a dare and do or die situation. So I crashed a few dozen times. No matter how bloodied I got, as long as my old Raleigh mini bike was still in 1 piece I kept going again!

It was just a bunch of teens getting out of trouble but into another kind. Although we didn’t know it then, ADULTS frowned mightily on our wild antics. In fact, the wilder the track got the better and more fun. When heavy rains made for muddied tracks, it was time for some splashing good fun. Of course mothers being what they are, banned us all from ever doing it again.

Those bans lasted for all of 2 days and we’re back at it. You can always tell when we’ve had our fill of a good race – coke in hand, blood on knee, sweat all over and the bike was a strange shade of yellow or red clay.

Yes, if only I still had the endless energy to do it all over again. The dreams of an aging set of bones and joints.

These memories were triggered by watching a bunch of teens riding over hard paved roads and then onto a short dirt track squealing about not wanting to get dirty…Com’n you softies! We used to ride a hundred miles over dirt tracks on our weekend trips. What’s a couple of hundred yards of the yellow brown stuff?

It was all about the freedom to wander, getting some air (and I mean getting both wheels high enough to brush the tree branches), wheelies over a hundred yards (a tall order those days because the bikes back then were just so badly balanced), and riding on the beach in sand!

It’s a shame that all over North America the fear of litigation has made real raw fun on these BMX bikes all but banned or so sanitized FUN is no longer part of the BMX lexicon. Everyone is made to ride the safe and technical rules – made by adults who’ve never been on one of these things.

Are they really too dangerous? Depends on your ability. Skate boarding for me would be dangerous. But I used to do wonders on these bikes! Obviously stuffy shirted adults with absolutely no idea of the range of abilities of these experts on bikes want to close off the fun parks.

Well, if you bulldoze these informal riding areas, make damn sure you build up a good one to replace it.

Remember, the more adventurous of riders will seek far and wide for great trails to ride in. Invariably these will be far away from cities and in extremely dangerous places. I know, I did that too. Eventually, someone will get injured badly or killed. Take it from experience. And you know what?

You, Mr. Stuffed shirt, you drove them all there! I hope you can still sleep at night after that.

September 7th, 2009 by Life

Living is like Death

Yes, Life sucks big time for me right now. Shocking you? Well don’t go now this is all about ranting and raving about life after all. Well what do you expect from a guy who’s been doing just about everything your adventurous desire will get up to and then one day, DU gets you and you’re left for dead. Over 70 did that day.

Yeah, might as well have died that day. It’s far less painful. Surviving the first assault 24 years ago and my damn (sorry, authors privilege) stubborness to survive. “I’ll show them and then some…” Yep! I showed them. I came back and walking too. Just like a ghost no one wanted to see.

In fact, I was like a ghost – lost most of my hair. Bled away my life into my joints and capilaries busting out all over. Lost about 45 lbs in a month! After 2 painful years I did recover. No thanks to western medicine (they were the ones who gave up on me). Chinese medicine brought me back, literally.

Ahh, to leap forward a bunch of years, for the last 10 years, life has been a pain. The illness has returned with a vengeance. It seems the only thing that does not have any excrutiating pain attached to it is my brain. But even that is under attack. Severe heavy metal poisoning does that. And does dumb **** doctors with their drugs. They started this endless series of pain and degenerating body again.

Thank goodness for being trained with Chinese medicine and also, many of these western world science can actually help rebuild my body, inside out…if only the so called medical profession pays attention?

Once Racing and Flying High

Well,I’ll make it short. Yes, once driving those open wheelers and having a thrill everytime. So, I learnt to fly those things that make sonic booms that bust windows when you open up the after burners…

Living Passions

Yes, yes, I still have the passion for living. But man, it’s getting real tough trying to even sit up and hope I don’t fall asleep! The tickers taken it’s toll.

A couple of people I love told me the very same thing just over a year ago, ” ***don’t die…please don’t die.” Then my young man, “Daddy, please don’t die…” That was it! Pain be damned. I’ll get back up even if I had to make the ol’ pump keep going with my own hands. The passion of life did not die that day.

Tsai in Black Hotrod

3 months later I was in a wheelchair on a good day.

I still don’t recall a whole lot about last year – something about a possible stroke – but that (said with less than loving passion) long seperated wife kept scr***ing me with those incredibly expensive lawyers – trying to wrest my son away from me – just to protect her own assets and also in vengeance because she didn’t get her big payoff when the boy was born. She made me that threat almost 11 years ago and it still rings true. I can’t imagine the army of social and legal BS thrown my way!

Try as they might, the little boy kept trying to ” I Want To Come Home Daddy”. I’m not sure what I signed away last year, but knowing the not so little guy would soon use his feet to cast his vote, I did so on the advice of my lawyer. You see, the same judge who was preciding over our numerous times in court was always there. And I mean over numerous cases!!! Oh, yes, wife and I were friends with him once upon a time long ago! You make your assumptions. My lawyer and I have made ours.

So, OK I dare say it now because estranged wife has experiencing growing teenager’s angst. He’s voted with his feet and enrolled in the school of his choice – gutsy young man. He even took the brunt of mum threatening him at my home…

Oh, and cops came to our home a few days ago with a complaint of kidnapping and all sorts of complaints I am a violent sort. Who made that courteous statement upon my character I wonder? Well, the first one told the second one to go back…Second cop advised me to get a good lawyer and expect more to come – this was just creating ammo for a case against me. Should have told them she was the one that got tossed out by cops last year for creating too much of a nuisance of herself. Maybe, at this time I won’t rush off to my lawyer and give her more rope…and of course, she knows what to do with it. What a great way to make friends with a teenager.

Anyway nice cops said they liked my fish pond up front. “Bye now! And take care!” They yelled.