There are some allegations so heinous, if someone already looked askance at one, it is assumed one is guilty. (Michael Jackson comes to mind)
And we all know about assuming…(Thank you, again Don Brown!)
There has been a ‘news’ story floating around the past few days regarding Will Hayden, formerly of The Discovery Channel’s Sons of Guns. His ex-wife (or girlfriend) is alleging Mr. Hayden repeatedly raped their minor daughter, starting at age 11.
It may be assumed (there’s that word, again) that Mr. Hayden has substantial assets ripe for the attachment, and that as his persona was that of a cool, somewhat likeable, no-nonsense hard ass on the TV show, that these allegations might be spurious.
Of course, who knows?
I’ve a good friend for many years who was sexually abused by both her father and uncle – both of whom were upstanding community leaders – and they never were brought to justice for their crimes. I also know two men who were childhood victims of relatives. One perpetrator was a woman.
No justice for these folks was ever found.
My point is we don’t know the truth, yet, about Mr. Hayden. The Discovery Channel has sought to distance itself from the TV show and Mr. Hayden.
Is this simply an evil woman bringing unfounded charges to gain wealth, or vengeance, or is the evil in Mr. Hayden?
Regardless of the truth, I believe too much of this kind of heinous crime occurs, without earthly consequence.
Perhaps there is other-than-earthly consequence for such evil persons?
I certainly hope so.
(While I believe in ‘the system’, and ‘due process’, persons who destroy the lives of children in this manner should be drawn and quartered – Guffaw)
(No, not the 1928 silent film Western! And not THAT old…)
After my ignominious departure from the University (I dropped out because I spent more time partying than studying. Remember Joe Cool? 1970-71), my parents (with whom I was still living) put their feet down.
I was to pay them rent. This meant upgrading my employment – both to meet my financial obligation to them, and to look for better accommodations.
My Dad knew a guy who worked for AZDES, as a job bank guy. And soon, I was interviewed and sent out for a better possible job.
At M****** S***** Nut, Bolt and Screw. A manufacturer of industrial fasteners – nuts, bolts, screws, rivets, all manner in all sizes and quantities. Not being particularly handy, I was unaware one could get such items in kegs. Or pallets of kegs. Containing thousands, weighing a lot!
Soon, I went to work commuting from the S.E. Valley to N.W. of downtown Phoenix. And, in spite of promises made I would not have to drive a clutch-operated vehicle (with my disability, it can be difficult), I was soon driving a fork lift, among my other duties!
And I got to load trucks and make local deliveries, mainly to construction companies, Valley-wide.
But, this was before political correctness. And except for a couple of secretaries in the main office, and small parts packaging, the staff and customers were entirely male. And in a blue-collar business such as this, coarse language and humor was prevalent.
ALL the company pencils had the name of the company, the address, telephone number.
And the phrase “To Us, There’s Nothing Better Than A Good S**** “
And not to be outdone, over the will-call office, wherein people came to pickup ordered merchandise, was a sign reading “We’d Like Nothing Better Than To Handle Your N**** “
Obviously, a different time. I think I was making $2.00/hour, up from $1.60 as a busboy! @ 45 hours a week.
But, all good things must come to an end.
It was closing time, and I was in a hurry to get home. My manager asked me to wait for him to load a truck for delivery – and he was taking forever. So, I took it upon myself to load the pickup truck with the fork lift, without waiting for his direction. And I put a small dent in the truck, with the clutch-operated fork lift I’d been promised I would never have to drive.
And I was subsequently fired.
No more commuting for me. At least to that part of town.
And yes, I thought I had been s******!
I’VE MADE IT, yesterday.
I’m not normally a superstitious person. I do sometimes say ‘knock-on-wood’ (jokingly) when wishing for a positive outcome, but really don’t believe it. I own no rabbit’s feet or lucky charms. I don’t throw spilled sodium chloride over my shoulder. I’ve not crossed my fingers since I was, well, 7 or 8.
However, I do pay attention to specific calendar anniversaries, and some events have meaning to me.
And sometimes, I’m compulsive about them.
Case-in-point: My Father passed away, after a series of smaller heart attacks in 30 days prior, from a heart attack, on August 14, 1977. He was 61 years old. His birthday was November 16th. MY birthday is November 24.
I am currently 61 years-of-age. (You do see where I’m going with this?)
We are of similar physical types, and have similar ‘issues’ – like weight ‘issues’, diabetes. Fortunately (knock-on-wood) I’ve no apparent heart problems.
Subtract 16 from 24, this leaves 8. 8 from 14 is 6.
YESTERDAY WAS AUGUST 6, AND I’M STILL ALIVE!
I don’t know why, but for the past 5 years or so, as I approached age 61, this loomed over me. My Dad’s dad lived until he was 68. My maternal grandfather until 85. This shouldn’t have been an issue, or even a blip on my radar. I’m a rational person.
But it was.
It didn’t help that I was born premature, with an unnamed twin brother, who died – I nearly did; Lost my Mother in grade school due to emphysema; had a near-fatal automobile accident (in which my daughter was lost); have had flesh-eating bacteria, diabetes and two kinds of cancer. Life and Death have cropped up more than with most with me, I think.
I’ve made it, AGAIN.
Still flipping off the Reaper! :-)
PS – If I suddenly fall off the Internet, in the next couple of days, you’ll know he was delayed in traffic.
The littlest of the three chee-hooa-hooas, Lola, is now six months old, and has grown from under two pounds four months ago, to a powerhouse of almost SIX pounds! :-)
She successfully survived her hysterectomy (with a barely visible scar) and now is content terrorizing the large boy dog (DJ), who is probably 15-20 pounds. Yes, he’s a throwback, every genetic trait one doesn’t ask for in a chihuahua. Including massive size.
But, he’s a big, stupid, happy lummox and we love him.
Lola is VERY bright. Try to lure her into a trap (like her kennel for the night) and she’ll fall for the bait. Exactly ONCE. And never again.
She also has an Early Warning System, if she’s penned up and wants out to ‘do her business’. We didn’t train her to do this – she trained us.
I’m usually awake around 0600-0700. Shower, dress, morning stuff and blog. And when the mistress-of-the-manor is absent, Lola bivoacs in MY room.
A Sample Morning
0600 – I Awaken. Kissed by a tiny dog who has been watching me wake up, who then curls up in my armpit and snuggles back to sleep. Then she produces 61,000 btus, forcing me to arise. (Well, that and my impatient bladder!)
0605 – Shower. Lola must be kenneled, lest she join me in the shower. She doesn’t require a bath daily. I do. Besides, I might accidentally step on her!
0615 – Dress. Lola remains kenneled, half or completely asleep, or sometimes therein quietly watching me check my email and blog.
UNLESS, NATURE CALLS HER!
Me, sitting at the computer, tiny kennel on the adjacent bed, containing tiny dog. All is quiet, except occasional keystrokes and the ever-present fan. (This IS AZ, after all!)
Suddenly there is a tiny, tiny bark. Not particularly high-pitched, but very slight in volume, as if distant outside. Usually no response from me. (We designate this DOGCON 3)
Then, a slightly louder bark, perhaps 20 seconds later. This is obviously from inside the house; inside my room. More apparent urgency (DOGCON 2)
(Followed by, if I choose to ignore it…)
DOGCON 1 – a loud, piecing, deafening bark, threatening immediate negative consequences unless she is allowed paper access IMMEDIATELY! This usually also agitates my chronic tinnitus!
My usual response is to get up from my desk, open the kennel, and she jumps up to my chest, sometimes my shoulder – and I carry her to the bathroom, containing the all-important morning paper.
And all is shortly right with the World!
(Until the tiny kitten Belle is heard screaming outside the bedroom door to be included in the blog process (aka walking willy-nilly across the keyboard). Please note, I usually learn from this and ignore her!)
Judge in Australia says incest may no longer be a taboo and the only reason it is criminal is potential birth abnormalities, which can be solved by abortionA judge in Australia has been criticised after saying incest may no longer be a taboo and that the community may now accept consensual sex between adult siblings.Judge Garry Neilson, from the district court in the state of New South Wales, likened incest to homosexuality, which was once regarded as criminal and “unnatural” but is now widely accepted.He said incest was now only a crime because it may lead to abnormalities in offspring but this rationale was increasingly irrelevant because of the availability of contraception and abortion.“A jury might find nothing untoward in the advance of a brother towards his sister once she had sexually matured, had sexual relationships with other men and was now ‘available’, not having [a] sexual partner,” the judge said.“If this was the 1950s and you had a jury of 12 men there, which is what you’d invariably have, they would say it’s unnatural for a man to be interested in another man or a man being interested in a boy.Those things have gone.”More @ The Telegraph
or say a prayer, if that’s what you do.
Mary C. – Dave-the-mechanic’s mother passed away Father’s Day, after a short illness. She was 88, having had her birthday that Saturday. Her memorial is today.
Mary was longtime volunteer at Desert Samaritan Hospital, serving for 24 years in many different offices and was Volunteer of the Year for the State of Arizona in 1983. She was an active member of King of Glory Lutheran Church, singing in the choir for 35 years and serving as choir librarian for 20 years.
Mary is survived by her husband of 62 years, Al; her children Mick, Dave, Ruth, Karen; 8 grandchildren and 9 great-grandchildren.
To have been the center of such a great family, and been a giver of such service…
She will be missed.
My thanks to all of you who commented, wrote or at least stopped for a moment in your day to think of Dave and his family. – Guffaw
Not a woman, nor a fish (this time)…
I’ve recounted previously in these pages about my 800 pound safe having been stolen (in 2008), and the loss of 50+ firearms, parts, credit cards and personal papers and effects.
One of the firearms was not mentioned, as I knew nothing about her history, how she was acquired, or anything else. I suspect my Father acquired her when his Father passed. I’ve no idea of her origins. Obviously the 1800s.
She resembled this, with a more visible trigger. Her mainspring was broken, and she was in a little rougher condition.
Thank God for the security of Fort Knox safes!
I’ve a number of recurrent themes in this blog. One is secure your vault, even if it weighs a lot, to the floor and wall.
You never know.
Any ideas as to the kind of pistol? Inquiring minds want to know!
FTC – Ft, Knox gave me nothing! Go away!
My Father taught me that not only was Memorial Day to honor those who gave their life in service to this Nation, but also to take a moment to remember those who have gone before who were dear to us. He and I visited the grave of my Mother Charlotte on Memorial Day 1977. She passed when I was in the Second Grade.
He knew he wouldn’t survive past August that year. I didn’t know.
Being disabled, when my conditions allow, I spend time doing research on the Internet. It’s amazing what information is ‘out there’ if we only bother to look.
And, sometimes information is absent, even if we do.
Below. a photo of my friend Everett, who served in the Army in Europe in the 70’s.. He was a big man, both tall and wide, had a deep booming voice and a great sense of humor. He paid his way through college hustling pool. Another blogger whom I don’t know was his friend in his last years, and said he was the most ethical man he ever knew. I believe him.
Marla was a woman I dated after my marriage broke up. She was funny, quirky, sexy and loved her children. Sadly, not only do I not have any personal photos, but neither does the Internet. I’d lost contact with her after she moved on with her life, and was attempting to reestablish a friendship when I found out she had passed. I’ve no information as to how. She was in her 50’s.
PLEASE take the time to remember those who served and those you love, because you never know…
I STILL look askance at those people/businesses who say ‘Happy’ Memorial Day. I choose to reflect and remember these folks, and not to be morose.
My life was better for having known these people.
I’ve been whining of late, in this venue, regarding my lack of funds, a decent transportation vehicle, lack of guns, health ISSUES, in other words, me, me, ME!
How shallow and self-centered of me. Seriously.
I’ve had two brothers. One, a step-brother, lives a short distance away, was pre-eminent in his field (is now retired), and is a truly fine human being. But, we have no real relationship.
Why, you ask?
Because he is 12 years older than I and we have absolutely nothing in common, except we lived in the same house for a year or so, after my Dad remarried. He, in college, me, in the third grade.
You see the problem?
The other brother remains unnamed. Why? Well, I only found out about him a couple of years ago. You see, I am a twin, and my brother didn’t survive. And my parents never told me about him.
Fast-forward to this past weekend. I’m fumbling around here, trying to get computers to work and get on-line long enough to post on this blog, with limited success.
And I didn’t get to read many other blogs, as I usually do, daily.
I missed word from Brigid that her brother ‘Big Bro’ had passed away, after his long battle with cancer. He was a U.S. Navy veteran, a motorcyclist, and a fine man. How do I know this? He’s her brother, how could he not be?
Please say a prayer for her and her family, if that’s what you do.
And take time to remember brothers everywhere – named and unnamed.
My roommate has almost always had multiple dogs and/or cats. And especially chihuahuas.
I’ve never been a big fan of tiny dogs, but her dogs have been great! Sadly, we lost Crosby at age 19 a few months ago.
Roomie has been shopping for ‘someone’ to replace her spot in the pack. Yesterday afternoon, we got a rescue dog -
She’s hysterical! Non-stop prancing and dancing and playing! And wanting to play with the dog in the mirror. The other girl dog is a little jealous; the cat wary (she wants to play with the cat, who usually hisses in response!). But the lummox boy dog loves her!
And so do we!