Positive results come already since strict control of milk substantially reduced the volume from coughing. Kicking the smokes is ongoing and to early to claim a clear benefit from the program but there are hints. I asked Yevette just now if I'm lying to myself about holding the course and she said I wasn't so Tally Ho.
The observation with the ganja was predictable coughing from doing it but a few toks won't trigger a landslide. This is not a clear test when regular smokes are still in-play at any extent so it's not truly vindicated because, all together now, this is fuckin' science, man.
There wasn't a good enough reason as the doctors told me my lungs are fucked and you need to quit but that doesn't appear to offer any particular value when they're already fucked and won't get any better. This coughing extravaganza and the multiple which preceded it give a clear reason; either the smokes go or I do. Previously it was clear I go anyway but unclear when. It's now clear it's immediate with quitting or I'm soon headed for the glue factory.
OK, so we start steering for the Sun and there are wins coming from it. Just now was the first time I have finished any kind of a dinner in one hell of time. It gets interminable so I'm not sure if it's a month, two months, or whatever but it's on the run now.
A large part of the reason for writing anything of it is to show I don't give up. Some fights are pointless and I know that even when America rarely does. Others are worth showing up with battle flags and that's exactly what happens now. In the larger view, I won't permit deeply-invasive surgery, not anymore. That specifically regards quality of life and no need to flog that.
Cadillac Man and I talked earlier and it was a bit of confused stir as I had just awakened and Skype rang maybe only moments later so I was still blinking a bit. I know I get a bit impatient and I do apologize but there's no gain to dwell on that since one of his points was always be willing to ask for help and be willing to be surprised at the response.
That was as hard for him to say as it is for any of us to do and that's you, too, Mystery Lady. I believe most likely all of us derive a righteous pride because we have learned independence one way or the other over years and fair enough on taking pride in that. wtf, it don't hurt no-one (larfs).
The problem with that is we can be swinging from a rope from a tree before any of us are likely to try to squeak out, "Maybe someone could loosen this a wee bit?"
For me now it's funny and it's dumb at the same time. It's no surprise to anyone I need some help but I would not even know what to ask. It's tough to ask in any case but I seriously would have no idea what to request. With VA it's a simple thing because we know what we need and, man, this looks kind of awful but do you think you can fix it.
One of the radiant lights in a relatively-bleak world is how cheerfully and willingly they try. I have heard a tiny bit of cranky from the bros out there but very rarely and never, ever from the medical people. It's something most can never see and that's good people don't need it but regrettable in its almost impossible to understand without seeing it because the behavior is so radically different from the chiseling in almost anything else. There's lots of chiseling aimed at VA but that never originates within except sometimes when someone goes off the tracks and does something wrong for which they're usually busted and dispatched.
Republicans always claim there's more but those narrow-minded nitwits spend their lives finding tempests in teapots and never look beyond how much they can make on the tea leaves by telling bullshit fortunes.
I'm looking forward now to talking with Mystery Lady at 1:00 pm Cowboy Time which is 2:00 pm Buckeye Time and actually have some relatively good news in it. Talking with her is lovely anyway and invariably funny. Things which the young 'uns would write off as morbid and creepy is hilarious to us because, all together again, we just don't give a fuck what they think.
Once we can accept the fact we're fucked there's a peace which comes because the response to just about anything becomes, "What will they fuckin' do ... kill me?"
It becomes almost impossible to make us seriously angry because often the concerns of the young 'uns are so ludicrous there's no reason to take them seriously.
Cadillac Man and I were yukking it up over that earlier in talking about how Davy Crockett was a terrorist. That creates such a case of cognitive dissonance in the young 'uns it completely flips their wiggles. It's true he was a terrorist since the Alamo wasn't in America at the time so he and the others went down to steal it. He did cool things before that but they don't obviate the fact of terrorism at the Alamo.
The fact that was omitted by some right-wing poser of a professor at the university level is a disgrace and further exemplifies the decreasing standards of academic excellence, at least in certain quarters. If you don't aim for the best, you have no chance whatsoever of ever getting there and the thing beyond all others taught at a university level is this is only where your education starts. Cadillac Man is sixty-five and studies history to his great pleasure to this day.
My studies of history are much more focused and the Warsaw Ghetto has been a compelling study since being horrifed, along with Tinkerbell, after reading "Mila 18" by Leon Uris as children (i.e. thirteen or fourteen) and discovering some what happened there. Hence the ongoing interesting in "The Pianist" and I watch that in segments now.
High schools offer little more than right wing, politically correct, rote memory rubbish. The universities offer questions and the rest you do yourself or in a graduate program with assistance and tutelage of masters.
Cadillac Man could fairly brag up his own daughter who worked to empower herself in achieving a Masters in Clinical Psychology. I was touring about the other day giving high fives to women online who had achieved significant degrees of this nature, including a Bachelor, and I was pleasantly impressed, yet again, to see another woman who does something more than go on the hustle for a money degree with Accounting or an MBA. Those ones, for the most part, I ignore. I've seen many in action at a professional level in the bank and, for the most part, they were all unremarkable with the only faintly imaginative yet still blindly obtuse thing ever to come from them was, "This is living the dream, isn't it!"
What fucking benthic dream is that, Money Boy? In many ways they were empowered even by the presence of large (as in really large) amounts of money in the bank vault at this HQ location when it wasn't even their own. That behavior I found singularly revolting and repulsive. What actually defines you, man or woman?
Fuckin' nothing.
It's the others we admire because Miss Clinical Psychology doesn't only carry the title since she carries it out to where she can provide a direct service. She is also married and happily raising a baby with the man so I won't tell you about being a fully-actualized woman but she can.
The Sun isn't so much shining because of the ganja because I only took a tok to see if anything was in the blow. Not much. Mostly it's from scuppering up a meal and observation some things I am trying toward improving things actually seem to be working. Now that's worth toking up a bowl any ol' time.
Tops up, matey, mate. Don't want to spill it, you know.
Give it a quick pass with a flame and it absolutely must be butane for relative purity. Give just enough for ignition and let the oxygen do the rest. Part of becoming a connoisseur is learning to recognize the buzz and how to build it. With that appreciation, it takes incredibly little to achieve a Moon launch.
Figure it out as it may cost $300 for a bag of ganja and that's a hefty bitch but it can often go two months so that breaks down to less than half a gram per day. I tell people I don't flog it and they probably don't believe it but the thinking doesn't hold the appreciation of how much of a buzz is learned and only a portion comes from the smoke.
If you smoke enough to become a giggling buffoon, you only turn yourself into a pull-the-string doll and pull it to hear the giggle but it's much more if you don't do that and instead appreciate the simpatico.
Listen or not as you will but I've been blowing the ganja for fifty years so I might know the game and I've never been busted for it. There are many, many busts for speeding in cars but not for that. I was almost never stoned when I was speeding or if I was it took place a long, long time ago during a time in which none of us should rightly have survived. It was a fookin' miracle, man (larfs).
It would scare the bejeebers if I had my own kids because I know already what those crazy fuckers will do. No, thank you (larfs).
The observation with the ganja was predictable coughing from doing it but a few toks won't trigger a landslide. This is not a clear test when regular smokes are still in-play at any extent so it's not truly vindicated because, all together now, this is fuckin' science, man.
There wasn't a good enough reason as the doctors told me my lungs are fucked and you need to quit but that doesn't appear to offer any particular value when they're already fucked and won't get any better. This coughing extravaganza and the multiple which preceded it give a clear reason; either the smokes go or I do. Previously it was clear I go anyway but unclear when. It's now clear it's immediate with quitting or I'm soon headed for the glue factory.
OK, so we start steering for the Sun and there are wins coming from it. Just now was the first time I have finished any kind of a dinner in one hell of time. It gets interminable so I'm not sure if it's a month, two months, or whatever but it's on the run now.
A large part of the reason for writing anything of it is to show I don't give up. Some fights are pointless and I know that even when America rarely does. Others are worth showing up with battle flags and that's exactly what happens now. In the larger view, I won't permit deeply-invasive surgery, not anymore. That specifically regards quality of life and no need to flog that.
Cadillac Man and I talked earlier and it was a bit of confused stir as I had just awakened and Skype rang maybe only moments later so I was still blinking a bit. I know I get a bit impatient and I do apologize but there's no gain to dwell on that since one of his points was always be willing to ask for help and be willing to be surprised at the response.
That was as hard for him to say as it is for any of us to do and that's you, too, Mystery Lady. I believe most likely all of us derive a righteous pride because we have learned independence one way or the other over years and fair enough on taking pride in that. wtf, it don't hurt no-one (larfs).
The problem with that is we can be swinging from a rope from a tree before any of us are likely to try to squeak out, "Maybe someone could loosen this a wee bit?"
For me now it's funny and it's dumb at the same time. It's no surprise to anyone I need some help but I would not even know what to ask. It's tough to ask in any case but I seriously would have no idea what to request. With VA it's a simple thing because we know what we need and, man, this looks kind of awful but do you think you can fix it.
One of the radiant lights in a relatively-bleak world is how cheerfully and willingly they try. I have heard a tiny bit of cranky from the bros out there but very rarely and never, ever from the medical people. It's something most can never see and that's good people don't need it but regrettable in its almost impossible to understand without seeing it because the behavior is so radically different from the chiseling in almost anything else. There's lots of chiseling aimed at VA but that never originates within except sometimes when someone goes off the tracks and does something wrong for which they're usually busted and dispatched.
Republicans always claim there's more but those narrow-minded nitwits spend their lives finding tempests in teapots and never look beyond how much they can make on the tea leaves by telling bullshit fortunes.
I'm looking forward now to talking with Mystery Lady at 1:00 pm Cowboy Time which is 2:00 pm Buckeye Time and actually have some relatively good news in it. Talking with her is lovely anyway and invariably funny. Things which the young 'uns would write off as morbid and creepy is hilarious to us because, all together again, we just don't give a fuck what they think.
Once we can accept the fact we're fucked there's a peace which comes because the response to just about anything becomes, "What will they fuckin' do ... kill me?"
It becomes almost impossible to make us seriously angry because often the concerns of the young 'uns are so ludicrous there's no reason to take them seriously.
Cadillac Man and I were yukking it up over that earlier in talking about how Davy Crockett was a terrorist. That creates such a case of cognitive dissonance in the young 'uns it completely flips their wiggles. It's true he was a terrorist since the Alamo wasn't in America at the time so he and the others went down to steal it. He did cool things before that but they don't obviate the fact of terrorism at the Alamo.
The fact that was omitted by some right-wing poser of a professor at the university level is a disgrace and further exemplifies the decreasing standards of academic excellence, at least in certain quarters. If you don't aim for the best, you have no chance whatsoever of ever getting there and the thing beyond all others taught at a university level is this is only where your education starts. Cadillac Man is sixty-five and studies history to his great pleasure to this day.
My studies of history are much more focused and the Warsaw Ghetto has been a compelling study since being horrifed, along with Tinkerbell, after reading "Mila 18" by Leon Uris as children (i.e. thirteen or fourteen) and discovering some what happened there. Hence the ongoing interesting in "The Pianist" and I watch that in segments now.
High schools offer little more than right wing, politically correct, rote memory rubbish. The universities offer questions and the rest you do yourself or in a graduate program with assistance and tutelage of masters.
Cadillac Man could fairly brag up his own daughter who worked to empower herself in achieving a Masters in Clinical Psychology. I was touring about the other day giving high fives to women online who had achieved significant degrees of this nature, including a Bachelor, and I was pleasantly impressed, yet again, to see another woman who does something more than go on the hustle for a money degree with Accounting or an MBA. Those ones, for the most part, I ignore. I've seen many in action at a professional level in the bank and, for the most part, they were all unremarkable with the only faintly imaginative yet still blindly obtuse thing ever to come from them was, "This is living the dream, isn't it!"
What fucking benthic dream is that, Money Boy? In many ways they were empowered even by the presence of large (as in really large) amounts of money in the bank vault at this HQ location when it wasn't even their own. That behavior I found singularly revolting and repulsive. What actually defines you, man or woman?
Fuckin' nothing.
It's the others we admire because Miss Clinical Psychology doesn't only carry the title since she carries it out to where she can provide a direct service. She is also married and happily raising a baby with the man so I won't tell you about being a fully-actualized woman but she can.
The Sun isn't so much shining because of the ganja because I only took a tok to see if anything was in the blow. Not much. Mostly it's from scuppering up a meal and observation some things I am trying toward improving things actually seem to be working. Now that's worth toking up a bowl any ol' time.
Tops up, matey, mate. Don't want to spill it, you know.
Give it a quick pass with a flame and it absolutely must be butane for relative purity. Give just enough for ignition and let the oxygen do the rest. Part of becoming a connoisseur is learning to recognize the buzz and how to build it. With that appreciation, it takes incredibly little to achieve a Moon launch.
Figure it out as it may cost $300 for a bag of ganja and that's a hefty bitch but it can often go two months so that breaks down to less than half a gram per day. I tell people I don't flog it and they probably don't believe it but the thinking doesn't hold the appreciation of how much of a buzz is learned and only a portion comes from the smoke.
If you smoke enough to become a giggling buffoon, you only turn yourself into a pull-the-string doll and pull it to hear the giggle but it's much more if you don't do that and instead appreciate the simpatico.
Listen or not as you will but I've been blowing the ganja for fifty years so I might know the game and I've never been busted for it. There are many, many busts for speeding in cars but not for that. I was almost never stoned when I was speeding or if I was it took place a long, long time ago during a time in which none of us should rightly have survived. It was a fookin' miracle, man (larfs).
It would scare the bejeebers if I had my own kids because I know already what those crazy fuckers will do. No, thank you (larfs).
2 comments:
This is what we talked about today-
it was 72 calls for help for overdoses
http://local12.com/news/local/more-than-60-heroin-overdoses-in-48-hours-may-have-been-caused-by-elephant-tranquilizer
There's likely little no surprise with these opiates since probably most know they do but do it anyway. Same with hipster smokers which is just about as cynical a contrast in words you could ever find.
The tragedy of these kids knowingly inviting death expands out to a huge editorial on the lack of faith in a future but in doing that I'll end up going out to get some of this poisonous crap too. (No possible chance I will)
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