You Can’t Touch This …

“A man who represents himself in a court, has a fool for an attorney.” Some guy recently busted for urinating in public did this very thing. Representing himself at trial, Mr. Huppe fired a colorful line of questions at the officer including, “Did you see me take my thing out and urinate?” and “Did you test DNA to see if it was my urine?”

Here is the part I like … Mr. Huppe shouted at the officer during the June 24 trial, “Swear on a Bible and say it was Mr. Huppe’s urine!” The officer testified he did not test DNA from the urine puddle. Then the judge ordered Mr. Huppe to “take a deep breath” and promised the verdict would be forthcoming.

My kind of guy.

BOULDER – A 25-year-old Boulder, Colorado man is in jail after police discovered he had been living on the roof of a T-Mobile store since December. Police say Luke Barrett pleaded guilty to trespassing and obstructing an officer after his arrest Friday. Barrett told officers that he was homeless and started living on the top of the building in December.

According to the T-Mobile store, employees had a suspicion that someone was living on the roof. Cleaning employees and maintenance crews said on two occasions they found and removed cushions, garbage and a sleeping bag from the roof. Now think about this. You are living on the top of a building in Colorado in the dead of winter?

It’s a wonder the guy doesn’t have frostbite.

Priceless … 6 year old Bennett Christiansen of Illinois was approved for a credit card with a $600 limit. The boy had accurately filled in an application, listing his birth date as 2002 and his income of $0. We had “plastic surgery here about five years ago” and that was the best thing that ever happened to us. No more credit cards, which in our case was a good thing. You know how to tell if you are over your limit, when you are standing in the line and the girl swipes your card, all the lights in the building kind of dim for a moment.

You are over your limit.

An Australian bridegroom was horrified to learn after he had walked down the aisle that he was already married — after a drunken holiday romance he could barely remember. The husband has had to confess in the Family Court that he spent 28 days partying and drinking in Arizona in 1978 on leave from his job as a cook on the oil rigs.

He can remember the “nice” blond American woman he met through a pen pal newspaper advertisement — but little more. “He has no recollection of going through any form of ceremony of marriage with her, or of discussing marriage, or of anything referable to marriage,” said Justice Sally Brown, who annulled the marriage last month.

Not only that, but the man, who describes himself as an old-fashioned romantic, was already married at the time — to his wife of 14 years. Yesterday the 67-year-old, who cannot be identified, told The Daily Telegraph “the sky fell in” when he was shown the Arizona marriage license. He married his Hawaiian girlfriend in 2006 and applied to live in Hawaii with her that U.S. immigration authorities broke the bad news.

A drilling rig in Arizona, C’mon? This has to be Media Fatigue, made up crap.

B’sides everyone knows, if you get drunk for 28 days in a row, you have to file a special permit with the EPA so they can tell you where to bury your liver!

This has got to be bogus; we need to get back to the “real news” in America.

The upcoming presidential election which will determine who voters hate more: Successful, attractive African-Americans or good ol boy mossbacks that smell like Old Spice and pancakes. Who gave the government “the right” to tell us what kind of light bulbs to buy. Why Al Gore still consumes 50% more electricity than the average American after extensive renovations to his Tennessee home.

Important stuff like that.

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Sweet Little Crazy Dream

The most pleasant of dreams last night and this morning I am lying in bed, watching the crack in the blinds illuminate with the morning sun and thinking. What a pleasant night of sleep, rarely happens anymore, and the thoughts that permeate my mind are lovely, it was a night of rest.

In the dream I am introduced to a man, a news reporter and he starts telling me of what he has covered lately and how he wrote about it. And the words just suddenly appear as he is thinking of them, sort of telepathically speaking, they just materialize or appear on the cover of the notebook and I am so fascinated by this.

Not by the huge piece of construction equipment that is being unveiled for the very first time that we are there to report on, but by how effortlessly this man seems to be communicating his very thoughts to me.

In the next room I hear the parrot rattling her water dish, she is ready to get up and face the new day, I want to linger some more. To lie in my bed and take in what the night has given me, this strange and wonderful gift of time, shared with me in the dark. And then perhaps later on I will write about it, and the words will come to me as if almost floating on gossamer wings and thought is so pure and good.

Perhaps in every writers soul there is a trigger, a place where he yearns to be able to write that one perfect sentence, that juncture in life, where he will chronicle the item, the prose, the short story, that will touch someone in a profound way and make a difference in a life.

I like a good dream, don’t you?

So for a brief moment in time, all of it seems to shut down, everything is absolutely right in my world, I don’t have to deal with some weasel in Austin, Texas, who is lifting stuff from my page, altering it and changing it, then re posting the adulterated crap in MY name and calling it MY opinion. Who then runs and hides behind some vague disclaimer of his own making, believing it will shelter him in the bitter end, when it comes time to pay for the band, make retribution for his sins.

It will not save him.

In this moment I don’t have to mess with the Cable Company or the Insurance payment, there is no cacophony of lawnmowers or barking dogs, on my horizon to disturb my peace of mind, there is only this. This sweet little crazy dream, a message of good news and hope for me in my apparent nocturnal time of need. I am refreshed, I can feel a stirring in my spirit and it is a welcome relief from the pressures of today’s world. I lie in the quiet and I relish the moment. I want to bottle it up and save it for another day.

And it is good.

I am sitting here listening to the radio, and the lady is softly singing to me, enticing me to thoughts impure and surreal. I find myself wondering “If anyone will cry and mourn my passing” when I leave this mortal coil. I know that might sound macabre to a certain extent and I apologize for it, but my passing which is a sure and very real thing, will eventually happen.

Will anyone miss me, will there be tears shed for me and me only?

Like most men, I will someday stand before God, and it is my profound hope that I will be able to pull my tired old hands out of my pockets, smile and say, “Lord I bring nothing. I have used all that you have given me. I have not, one single talent left in my life.” Strange thoughts I seem to run the gauntlet of human emotions early in the morn, as the birds sing and come online to greet the new day.

Taking in a deep breath, I open up one more time and allow life to embrace me. Sleep last night was good and my dreams are of pleasant endeavors.  One less thing to worry about in my life, and its a beauty. I am a fortunate pilgrim indeed.

One more trip down the path to the well.  And I have come to a point of understanding. Dreams have only one owner at a time.  Sorry, but that is a bare-bones fact. This is also why dreamers are so lonely.

And of course, “Life is so dog-gone short, why not give a little something back?”

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* The photo was gnanked from Radio Girl but I am pretty sure she won’t mind.  Do yourself a favor and go over there and check it out, it’s not all that far, and it is definitely worth the trip.