Double Vision


I am the speaker of truth in our household.

Oh no….its true…its true.

If you want a flowery, politically correct, I care about your feelings answer then the person to go to is….not me.

I ain’t got time for feelings.

Ain’t nobody got time for that.

I get asked questions all the time.

My answers are direct and to the point.

Not too long ago, my teenage stepdaughter had a question that needed a decisive answer.

Naturally, she came to me…….

“Why can’t boys look me in the eyes when they talk to me?” She inquired.

I looked up from the book I was reading, which was entitled-

“Magic Tricks For Dummies”

I was completely entranced with the how to make a quarter dissappear and make it reappear behind someone’s ear trick when she approached me.

I wasn’t quite sure what she said.

I placed the book aside and said,

” Ummm….wha?”

A bit frustrated that I didn’t hear her the first time, she hastily repeated the question, although in different form.

And

She accented her verbage by pointing to space at the center of her chest.

“CLEAVLAGE! Why do boys stare at my cleavlage instead of my eyes when they talk?”

My honesty sometimes gets the best of me…..

“Well honey….boys…wait a sec….did you say cleavlage?”

“Yes, of course I did. They always stare right here.” She said as she reaffirmed her previous pointing motion.

“Well honey, that’s not cleavlage. Cleavlage is a city in Ohio.”

Like I said…..

Direct and to the point.

The answers come to me……like magic.

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Doctor Oh Hell No


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That’s me…..trying my hardest to do the impossible…..fit in.

I used to think I did, but alas, I dont.

One seemingly inocuous event led to the revelation that being on the outs is my destiny.

Looking back….it was in the works for quite some time.

Over the last few years I have become a bit of an anti social prick.

Here is a short list that aptly describes my anti socialness.

It is an excerpt from our family wireless bill that reflect the amount of social activity that surges through our smartphones. On a month to month basis a typical bill reflects this-

Wife-

Text messages852
Minutes used875

Daughter-

Text messages2331
Minutes used1162

Me-

Text messages177
Minutes used60

Staggering isn’t it.

I’m willing to bet that every one of my texts and phone minutes are used to contact my wife and my Mom, who lives in Another state.

In my defense, I rarely take my phone anywhere with me….besides work.

The reason?

Someone might contact me and I would have to reply……DUH.

To further knock my square peg into the round hole, let me also state that I do not insta-tweet-zuckerberg-snap.

Which is short for social media.

Is WordPress considered social media?

If it is, then I guess I’m not a total “troll living under the bridge yelling at the goats that try to get to the greener side“.

Even then, the last time I posted was July, 22 of last year.

Which leads me to the inocuous event that led to my revelation that I don’t fit in.

It was about a week before my last post.

Which happened to be my birthday.

I did what I always do…..

I went to the hospital at around 3:37 a.m. and walked up to the reception desk to announce my arrival.

I was greeted with a smirk and a,

“We know who you are and why you’re here. Just wait over there. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

“Sweet.” I replied and took a seat.

When my name was called I went back to the waiting room and was greeted by a doctor that I hadn’t met before.

She looked at me and said,

“Well, Mr. Good2begone, what seems to be the problem?”

I said,

“No problem. I’m here because it’s my birthday. I celebrate it the same every year.”

She sat down, placed her handy clipboard across her lap, and looked at me with a ‘oh no  here it comes’ kind of look and waited for me to complete my request.

“Birthdays are nothing more than a celebration of continued breathing for another consecutive 365 days. To confirm that I am in fact still breathing, I would like to get naked and have you hold me upside down by my feet and swat me on the ass until I cry. Therefore confirming that I am still breathing and as alive as the day I came into this life.”

I got this-

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Before I could finish disrobing, which I had begun before I finished my last statement, she was calling security and having me escorted out of the facility.

I don’t see what the big deal was. It was my birthday. So what if I’m 46.

Why couldn’t I do what I wanted….everybody else does what they want on theirs.

………………..

Anyhoo, since then I have been on the outs.

I’m still good2begone and the writing will go on.

Brothers(Up)In Arms


“Every time I go out drinking with them, we end up running over a pregnant woman…”

This is one of the gems I get to hear on a daily basis from the guys I work with.

They really are the class act of the human species.

I have been trying to put my finger on who they remind me of….it has always been right there on the tip of my tongue, but just can’t seem to get it.

And then it hit me like a bad Lynyrd Skynard cover band.

They are the real life version of…..

The Trailer Park Boys.

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Now….before I get can’t backlash by anyone for referring to me being offensive and rude for comparing people I work with offensive and rude characters on TV….

Let me explain.

1-they each live in a trailer. I know this because I have had to pick them up when the only vehicle out of the seven that is not on cinder blocks in their front yards won’t start.

2- 2 of them are brothers who happen to live at the same trailer from time to time when one buys weed instead of paying his electric and water bill.

3- the 3rd of the boys is Bubbles. Who happens to be the brother in law of one the other TP Boys. I know that because I get to hear the one brag to his brother in law about banging his sister every day. He even offers to show him pictures.

Like I said…..Classy.

The one I call Bubbles is the one who made the opening statement of this post.

I’m still undecided I whether I should be in shock or in awe.

Seriously….EVERY TIME you go out drinking with them a pregnant woman gets run over? Is the same one that just had made really bad choices in leaving the park?…..or Is it a different one EVERY TIME?

I used to think I had some great drinking stories…. but I can’t compete with that….

How I got sent to jail and these ass clowns are still running around like free birds freaking amazes me…..

Ok….so I know why I got sent to jail….but I promise I didn’t run over a pregnant woman.

Did I tell you that every day they actually stop working in order to listen to the song-

“Simple Man”?

Uggh.

What is that about? Is it the National Trailer Park anthem?

Just gimme 2 step toward the door….

Merlin Speak


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 ‘Look!’ said Merlin, ‘that is the sword I spoke of.’ And the King looked again, and a maiden stood upon the water. ‘That is the Lady of the Lake,’ said Merlin, ‘and she is coming to you, and if you ask her courteously she will give you the sword.‘ 

Excalibur The SwordHoward Pyle,1902

Photo by good2begone

Anatomy Of A Mom


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To some…..this is probably an odd family photo.

Not all of the individuals….look…..like family.

But alas, they are family.

My family.

This is a tribute to my Mom.

After her and my father got married. They yearned to start a family.

But,

doctors told her there was a higher than likely chance that she would not be able to.

That was not a deterrence in their quest.

The love of motherhood did not have to emanate from her womb, it could blossom from adoption.

My older brother, sitting next to her in the photo, would be their first child.

Fast forward a bit more than a year later.

The higher than likely chance of not conceiving a child turned out to be a false prophesy……

I was born.

That’s me in the top left of the photo…..kind of.

Now she was Mom to 2.

A year and a half later……

2 became 3 with the birth of my younger brother. That’s him with the bewildered look in the Grey shirt that matches my Dad’s shirt.

Raising 3 boys all similar in age was challenging I am sure.

We were more than a handful.

But,

my Mother always longed to have a daughter.

She was an only child.

She has lots of knowledge to pass on that her dirty muddy always breaking things boys just wouldn’t understand.

Fast forward 9 long years after the birth of her last child.

Her and my father turned to adoption, once again.

Through friends of friends they learned of a couple that was having a child that they could not keep.

They and there 4 other children were living in rough conditions and could not afford another child.

My parents were contacted and told them they would be there for the birth and if the child was a female they would adopt her.

Enter my youngest brother, standing next to me and above my Father.

When he was born, my Mother held him and looked into his eyes his newly opened eyes and couldn’t…..not…..adopt him.

That’s how 3 became 4.

Discouraged to be daughterless but overjoyed with her new son, life continued on………

For 1 month and 1 day.

With a single phone call, 4 would become 5.

We have family friends that live in Chihuahua, Mexico.

They knew of my Mother’s desire to have a daughter.

I’m not sure if it is still true or not, but, back then having a child out of wedlock was a big no no in Mexico.

The phone call told the story of a prominent doctor who had a daughter who gave birth to a daughter out of wedlock. She would not be allowed to keep her.  They preferred to have the child grow up in America.

Before my parents could hang up the phone, they were loading up the car and driving to receive the gift she always wanted.

A daughter, standing at the far right of the photo.

A photo may be worth a thousand words.

To the 5 kids surrounding the woman in the center of this one, it only says one-

Mom.

Paint It Black


I don’t do death well.

I can make up stories with it as a main topic, watch stuff on the dummy box that is engulfed in it, read the news every day where it is a mainstay of virility.

But in reality, it’s not that easy.

It is the end result of life.

Once the first cry out of the womb is bellowed, the clock to the end…..begins.

As expected as it is…….whenever it happens it is almost never expected.

When it does happen…and it is someone that at one time or another I ran around with, it becomes hard for me to deal with.

You know…..I’ve been clean and sober for quite a few years now.

The actual length of that time really doesn’t matter to me anymore. I don’t and haven’t been in AA or any other support group for a considerable length of time either.

I love being sober.

I just don’t feel I need to talk about it to be able to maintain it.

I just do.

I also hated seeing people coming in and out, in and out, in and out……until some just quit coming back in.

“Someone may have to die for me to say sober” I would hear in meetings.

Which I think is crap, by the way.

Anyway….

There’s this guy I used to sponsor when I was in AA.

Every time I saw him I would say,

“Dude….you’ve got tattoos….ON YOUR FACE!”

I would say that, because he did.

He would come over and have dinner with my family almost every night. We would talk about what was going on and my wife and I would give him suggestions.

Always to the point….never beating around the proverbial bush.

Before I sponsored him, he had like 12 other sponsors.

After me, probably many others.

Regardless of the state of his sobriety and my exit from AA, we remained friendly and in contact.

He would come around.

Then be gone.

And….repeat.

We got word yesterday that he got killed by getting run over by a car shortly after getting kicked out of a sober living house.

I hadn’t seen or spoke to him in a few months but he will be on my mind every day.

I drive a beat up truck that was green when it rolled of the factory floor decades ago.

When I got it, it had been completely spray painted black….with individual spray paint cans and recently repossessed by the owner for lack of payment. 

The guy who it was repossessed from was the same one who spray painted it.

And was the same guy I used to sponsor that had tattoos on his face.

I’m just kind of numb.

Emotions aren’t my thing either.

I just hope he is now at peace.

As for me…

I will keep on truckin’

Funnel Clouded


Mother Nature can be a bit of a bitch from time to time.

My guess is she has to show who is really  in charge of it all.

Earthquakes.

Erupting volcanoes.

She has gotten her “pissed off on” as we say in the country, as of late.

For me….it doesn’t seem real…..

I mean, I know it is, but seeing devastation on TV is still…..just watching TV.

Take this past week for example.

The number 1 story from every news outlet was the earthquake in Nepal.

As it should have been.

I can’t even imagine what it was, is, AND will be like to be there in the foreseeable future.

It is completely unfathomable to me.

In contrast, the number 2 story…..which was barely beaten out by the earthquake, was…..

Drumroll please…..

Bruce Jenner announcing that he is a woman.

How that news effects anyone outside his circle of have to be constantly in the spotlight by just being rich friends and family is once again…..

Unfathomable to me. Completely.

But….this is America.

And on our list of have to do,

Keeping up with any and all things related to the Kardashian’s is much more important than pretty much anything else.

I have never even used the “K” word before this and my autocorrect knew what I was spelling before I did.

Anyway, I’m getting my pissed off on just thinking about the importance of celebrity in our society and have gotten off topic.

Back to my reality.

I’ve always wanted to witness a tornado in action.

Just watch a funnel drop out of the sky and destroy.

It has to be awe inspiring.

Well….

I don’t anymore.

We had one drop down in our area a few days ago.

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That is an upside down boat dock.

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That dock used to be in the water.

Those docks are heavy. Let me repeat that last word-

HEAVY.

Mother nature picked them up and tossed them over like a game of jenga.

Lots of property damage, but luckily no injuries.

Once again, real life does for me what TV can’t.

Cult Forty5


Through the black acrid smoke and bright  flames that were ablaze in my dream, the child walked out from within the fire and pointed at me.

Then, turned his palm up and beckoned me to come with his index finger.

As the hot embers encircled and danced around him, he stared directly into my soul, smiled a devious smile and said-

“You should be here with me….”

He then put the hand up to his mouth, blew on the muzzle of his index finger, turned, dropped his weapon to his side and returned to the blaze.

The bang on the metal door is what awoke me and prevented me from following the child into his abyss.

BANG BANG

“Med time, Forty5.”

I got up from the bed and made a slow walk to the door.

The slot on the center of the door opened and a cup with a single pill and another cup  filled with water were pushed through. 

From behind the tempered glass window above the slot, the pill pusher said,

“I expect you to be shuffling around in a daze the next time I do my rounds like the rest of the psychos in this place.  Swallow your pill this time. Don’t make us come in and force you again.”

Without a word, I looked him in the eyes and pointed my index finger at him. Then I turned my palm up and beckoned him to
him to come in, while wearing a devious smile across my sunken pale face.

He returned the smile with a missing  front tooth and held up his arm which was in a cast and replied-

“I said us…..not me. I learn a lot quicker than you psyche patients do, which is why I am on this side of the cell and you are on the other. Take your pill.”

I took the pill and swallowed it.

I then put my index finger up to my mouth and blew on the muzzle, turned and returned to my bed on the other side of the sparcely furnished cell.

“Good boy, Forty5. Once you are nice and loopy, the doc is gonna come by for a session. Don’t worry….he will have back up, also.”

My name is not Forty5, by the way.

It’s the cell number.

I’m not the only Forty5 that has called this dump home. Evidence of their past occupancy are carved into the concrete walls like cemetery headstones.  Names, dates, conversations, pleads for help, admissions of abuse and criminal acts by patients and staff.

The walls are a virtual soap opera of psychotic bliss.

The pills I am forced to take are Thorazine…..which are used to keep psychotic and schizophrenic people in check.

By, in check, I mean turning them into zombies that shuffle around in circles until then last coherent thought slowly escapes their mind and the drooling sets in.  

Then hours of sleep.

I’m not crazy.

It’s just that no one believes that they are real.

……………..

And…

That they will stop at nothing to get me to join them.

(Shuffle shuffle)

………………

I thought the fire……..

(Shuffle shuffle)

But even death won’t…….

………………

Sometimes the writing on the walls talk.

(Shuffle shuffle stop stare)

Beware of the listening bugs in the vents – November 1973 fourdefive

I pull my stubbed pencil out of my pocket and scrawl a sentence on the wall amongst the other cemetery residents.

(Turn shuffle shuffle)

The bed…..is……far.

I reach the bed, groggy….lay down and face the wall that I just wrote on.

As I surrender to the effects of the pill, my  epitaph on the wall rings through my head-

And a child shall lead them – yesterday today n fourever Forty5

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To be continued……

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A history lesson on Honest Abe from a 12 year old who cares not for learning history.

Good2begone

Middle school and history class. 2 phrases that don’t get along.

I enjoy history. Not just American history but World History. To know where your going, you have have to know where you’ve been as a nation.

When my middle school aged step daughter comes home with History homework I like to help try to engage her in conversation to see what she is learning.

One particular topic that she was studying this past year was Abraham Lincoln. One of my favorite subjects and most fascinating to me. It was time to engage…..

Me- tell me what you know about Pres. Lincoln.

Her- he had a beard….but no mustache, wore that hat that looked like the one that guitar guy you like wears, he was famous for some address he lived at-

Me- address he lived it? You mean The White house?

Her- no, he gave some speech about some…

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