More Random NOTES From Wrinkled Scraps...

IT IS NOT ONLY APPALLING BUT SICKENING…

…that 46 nations have signed on to prohibit the use of cluster bombs in war but the Unites State, Russia, China and Israel, the largest makers of bombs in the world, are not among the signatories…imagine, our great country approves the use of cluster bombs, indeed makes them! The people who supposedly are in charge of this world make bombs specifically designed to blow up civilians, principally children who have been murdered and maimed by the 1000s…it is a sick world we live in run by sickos…throw the bounders out! Whatever it takes, rise up, act up, run the blaggards out of town…

What is happening to us – all of us, any man woman or child over, say, 12, needs to pitch in for Peace On Earth for real before it’s too late which it almost is…it’s still true that if you’re not part of the solution you’re part of the problem…well, far be it from me to get too preachy having done so little myself in this war to wage peace…

…meanwhile, what has become of us? Hyperbolic blustering and macho swaggering and saber rattling nut cases are in charge and bringing the world to its collective knees in shock, horror, sorrow and even prayer…

…of Russia, China and Israel one might expect this nefarious behavior and this ignominious device to be in their arsenal, but us, the US? We’re supposed to be the Good Guys; tell that to the survivors of cluster bombs, tell that to the parents of the dead children. ‘Bring out the dead, bring out the dead…’

REAPPEARING AFTER A WHITEOUT…

…I say/swoon to myself that ‘…all in all it’s very pleasant once you get beyond the strangulation…’ and I haffta laff… ‘…it’s a bitch though,’ I add aloud to no one. Make no mistake about it, the fear of dying when no breath comes in or goes out is very real but then somehow I am enshrouded in this serene cocoon that a whiteout is (as opposed to my still-warm cadaver being wrapped in the purple habiliments of death when one of these days the whiteout turns to blackout turns to lights out); it is womblike in its comforting warmth…not that I metempsychosically remember the womb, I don’t think I do but it apparently was a good place to be, fairly safe, free food & drink, all it lacked was a pool table, and you got to stretch your legs now and then at Mom’s expense, anyway I reappeared again from yet another whiteout; if being dead is anything like it, it’s not half-bad.

A whiteout as I call ‘em but which may in fact be tia’s or transient ischemic attacks, comes with the pulmonary illness territory, no way around it; it’s an adrenalin rush as frightfully thrilling as it gets and when you return to earth and aren’t dead after all, is as exhilarating as being shot at and missed…but that for another time…

…meanwhile I get to keep on tickin’ and taking no lickin’ and fob off another issue of NOTES on an unsuspecting public soon to be under my spell…you are getting sleepy, your eyes are heavy, your hands are reaching for your wallet…