Archive for August, 2012


I received this email today:


Is this statuetory rape?

Or is it just a moosedemeanor?



…while continuing to contact women online:

Is it better to have false hope than no hope at all?


The following item is included in Destiny.  It was written by Paul Aurandt:

The Kingdom of Love

THE ROYAL EDICT was proclaimed near and far.  The young prince, who would soon ascend to the throne, was seeking a suitable princess.  All the noble families of the kingdom must escort their eligible daughters to the court, for from among them the future queen would be chosen.

     It is said that two thousand highborn young ladies were brought before the prince, and that he was attracted to only one.

     Many had come from nobler families.  Others might have made a more politically advantageous marriage.  Yet for the young prince there was an even higher consideration:  He had fallen in love.

     It sounds like the setting of a fairy tale.  But it happened just that way, once upon a time, more than four hundred years ago.

     It was the beginning of a real-life love story history almost forgot.  And this is THE REST OF THE STORY.

     In 1547, the young prince was crowned king.  Shortly thereafter, he made the girl of his dreams his queen.

     I know of no royal romance quite like it.  For the benevolence of this young monarch’s reign was directly reflective of his profoundly affectionate marital relationship.  It was as though the youthful king and queen, as a result of their devotion to each other, set out to transform their country into a kingdom of love.

     There began a new era in that nation’s history, one in which the king was regarded as a father to his subjects and in which those subjects were restored to equanimity.  A traveler in that land wrote home, “I think no prince in Christendom is better beloved.”

     In the goverment’s high council, members were free to express any opinion no matter how contrary to the king’s.

     For the first time ever in that nation, its poorest citizen had access through petition to its leader.  Indeed, the king became a particular friend to the poor, a humanitarian devoted to charity and to the relief of suffering everywhere.

     The king proved to be a godly man, a builder of churches, a humble ruler who fasted and prayed, a monarch who believed that the men in his government should be good men, and that the children of his kingdom should be set early upon the paths of righteousness.

     To all such things which were good, the queen encouraged her king.  It was her tenderness which had tamed the raucous boy and urged him into a manhood of dignity.  It was her virtue which had inspired his godliness, her benevolence and understanding which had served as moral examples for the wisest leader that nation had ever followed.  In turn, he, the king, loved her, his queen, as few men who have ever lived have ever loved.

     And then one day, the queen fell ill.  The king frantically summoned his finest medical advisers.  The king wept.  The king prayed.  The queen died.

     And the king changed.

     The fairy tale was finished.  A nightmare was only beginning.

     For once upon a time, there was a king who threw himself into a life of dissipation and drunken revelry, who seized those who had been his friends and tortured them and impaled them on stakes and burned them alive, a sadistic beast of a man who murdered children, even his own.

     History almost forgot the saint he was, remembering instead the demon he became.  For after thirteen years of glory and goodness, that nation’s most benevolent ruler became its most evil.  His mind, twisted by grief and determined to destroy the haunting memories, became in its torment the supreme instrument of destruction.

     But don’t let it be forgot–that the kingdom bathed in blood was once wrapped in dreams.  And that the king, more than a king, the czar of all Russia, with his bride by his side was Ivan the Wonderful.

     Only when she, Anastasia, was gone–when the light in the czar’s heart was extinguished forever–the fiend that remained was Ivan the Terrible.



I had wine tonight–should have stuck with beer!  Wine catches up with you before you know it.  It has more alcohol, by volume, than beer–so…  And it’s very hard on my stomach.  “Wine is a mocker; strong drink is raging,” it says somewhere in the Bible.  But for me, strong drink is caffeine, not alcohol.  It’s said that the Native Americans called alcohol “fire water”.  And I can only assume why because they were probably only introduced to hard liquor, such as whiskey–which does burn the hell out your throat.  But I consider coffee fire water, because it fires you up!  Caffeine is raging, not alcohol.  As a kid, I attended a Baptist church for about six years.  My mom raised me up a devout Methodist–but at that time she felt that the United Methodist Church had gotten too far away from the Bible, and had become more of a social club.  And I remember talking about Jesus’ changing the water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana.  This was at a summer camp run by that Baptist church.  One of the counselors explained to us that wine, in Jesus’ time, didn’t have any alcohol in it–that it was like Coca Cola.  And we believed this, of course.  But the Bible doesn’t mention beer, at all–to my knowledge–even though it’s believed to have been developed by the ancient Egyptians.  Maybe beer was not considered strong drink in Biblical times, you think?

I’ve been watching The Andy Griffith Show daily since Andy Griffith’s death.  And in one episode, Andy Taylor does drink beer–though in another county, of course.  I’ve been fantasizing alot lately about how it would be if I were transported into the world of that show–into Mayberry–what kind of an impact I would have.  This is not a new idea. It was used in the film, Pleasantville–though I had thought of being transported into various television worlds before that movie was released.  I’ll bet alot of people had. 

Anyway, TV Land has been showing reruns of the show–starting from the very beginning, since Griffith died.  And I notice that Ellie WalkerAndy Taylor’s first love in the series–is about to be replaced with another.  Elinor Donahue, who played this character, disappeared from the series after several episodes because, as she explains, the chemistry just wasn’t right between Andy and Ellie–at least not enough for marriage.  There were some really gorgeous actresses on The Andy Griffith Show, and Elinor Donahue was is definitely one of the top two (the other being Betty Lynn, who played Barney’s girlfriend, Thelma Lou).

Well, before Elinor Donahue disappears from the series, let me post some pix of this exquisitely beautiful woman.


I’ve never laughed so hard writing a post as I am writing this one!  I happened to be reading a local story in my local newspaper when I stumbled upon a photograph of a Russian feminist punk group called Pussy Riot!  Upon regaining my composure, I noticed that one member of the band, Maria Alekhina, was really hot!  So I Googled pussy riot, and no photos appeared.  Then I googled, maria alekhina, and found loads of photos.

I’m opposed to feminism–just as I’m opposed to masculinism.  I’m a humanist (as we all should be).  I also dislike punk rock (the only exception being Blondie, one of my favorite rock groups of all time).  So I haven’t bothered to read the whole story about this Free Pussy Riot movement, nor have I watched any of the band’s videos.  However, I do believe in free speech, and feel that Putin has no right to imprison this band because he dislikes its lyrics.

But enough of that–take a look at this Russian hottie, Maria Alekhina!  (Aren’t I just like a man!)


The following item is from More of Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story.  It was written by Paul Aurandt.

The Missing Bullet

     You want excitement?  Visit the first-aid station at one of those big public functions–a county fair, or something like that.  Among the child patients you’ll find the ones who got sick on the candy, the ones who fell off the rides and even the ones about to be born.

     It gets pretty dramatic sometimes.  Like that time at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York, when they brought in the victim of a shooting.

     The victim’s name was Bill.

     Fortunately for this fellow the first-aid station was a large one, sort of an emergency hospital.  They even had an operating room.

     And Bill was going to need it!  He had taken two bullets at close range.

     It was about four-thirty in the afternoon when Bill, conscious yet in severe shock, was taken inside and hoisted to the table and undressed.

     It looked bad.  The first shot had grazed a rib, had obviously deflected.  The second wound was right in the stomach, and there was no exit wound.  The bullet was still inside.

     The doctors, realizing there was no time to waste, decided to operate.  Anesthesia was administered.  Bill did not count backward from one hundred.  Instead he began, “Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. . . .”

     In moments he was under.

     An incision was made, the abdomen opened.  Indeed the bullet had slashed right through the stomach, front and rear walls.  The lacerations were sutured–but where was the bullet?  Lodged somewhere in the muscles of the back?  It was as though the projectile had vanished.

     Cleansing a wound of this kind was imperative, and obviously more than the peritoneal cavity was involved.  The doctors really wanted to find that missing bullet, if only to trace its path.  Yet this patient, dangerously weakened, might not survive a prolonged probing.

     They closed him up–no drainage–and hoped for the best.

     Bill was taken to a private residence in Buffalo to recuperate.  He did not.  A week later, he was dead.

     Bill had had a few things going against him–overweight, nearly sixty.  Mainly it was that wound, insufficiently cleansed and untraced.

     “If” is a big question here, but if the doctors had been able to locate and remove the missing bullet–Bill might have lived.

     And this is THE REST OF THE STORY. . .

     Bill was shot at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York, in 1901.  On exhibition at the exposition–apparently unknown to the doctors, and not far from the scene of the shooting–was a new invention, a revolutionary device that could have helped–called the X-ray machine.

     That machine–so near yet so far–was operable, and would most certainly have located the fatal bullet.

     Instead, Bill–President William McKinley–died with that assassin’s bullet inside.


I started to write “DRUNKEN POST #111”–now that would have been something, huh?  I realize alcohol kills brain cells, but recent scientific research indicates that brain cells can indeed be replaced.  And I only drink alcohol once a week (when I go eat with the Singletons) at most.  Every day I drink coffee, which is far more dangerous for me, since I have high blood pressure.  I drink beer when eating with the Singletons–then drink Irish coffee (coffee with Bailey’s Irish Cream added to it) once I get home.  Mixing caffeine with alcohol?  Don’t do this at home, kids!  But it’s much safer than those combination beer/energy drinks that are becoming popular these days, because you don’t know how much alcohol or caffeine is in those things!  So don’t drink those at all, kids or adults! 

I missed last week’s Singletons dinner, so I’m making up for lost time!  This evening we went to Romano’s Macaroni Grill.  And the food was quite delicious.  When I got home, I drank my Irish coffee with the Chambers Brothers–I mean listening to the extended version of Time Has Come Today.  I had Grieg’s music for “Peer Gynt” in the CD player, but it was just too mellow for me at the time.  So I played the Chambers Brothers CD, and wham!  This extended version of Time Has Come Today is over eleven minutes long–and it’s the most kick-ass psychedelic piece I’ve heard since the extended version of Dazed and Confused from the Led Zeppelin film, The Song Remains the Same!  It’s absolutely wonderful–you’ve got to hear it!

And listening to it, I was reminded of the good side of the Psychedelic Sixties (when I was a only a baby)–you know, before things got so militant.  It was before Charles Manson became a cult figure.  It was before Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated and replaced by racists like Jesse Jackson and Louis Farrakhan.  White racist groups are still around today, but they’re not nearly as powerful as Black racist groups.  What’s happened is that the Black racist groups have become accepted into mainstream society, thus have no need to resort to violence.  Racism is racism, people!  The NAACP is as racist as the Ku Klux Klan, yet is accepted as if it were not.  Our society condemns White-on-Black crime–as it should–but condones Black-on-White crime!

The motivational speaker, Zig Ziglar, writes:  “Fair play seeks what is right, not who is right.”  And the reason the U.S. is so messed up is that most Americans–of every race–don’t care what is right, but who is right!  That’s what’s behind this upcoming election.  Everyone takes sides–Republican or Democrat.  As I’ve stated before, both parties have become equally extremist, corrupt, and powerful.  I wish there were an Independent candidate running this year who had at least as much of a chance as Ross Perot did in 1992.  But there isn’t–so I plan to vote for Obama.  We don’t elect individuals anymore, we elect parties!  And Independents like me have to play the two equally bad parties against one another!  As long as the United States refuses to consider a moderate third party, or an Independent president–it will continue going to hell!  But you know this, already, if you’re reading this.

Let me mention one more thing before I forget it: Black Muslims are not Muslim!  And the Nation of Islam is not Muslim!  There are certainly Black people who are truly Muslim.  But Black militants, like Farrakhan, are not Muslim for this reason:  They don’t believe that Muhammad was the founder of Islam.  They believe that the Arabs stole Islam from the Sub-Saharan Africans (Black people), and that Muhammad had nothing to do with it. 

One’s religion is based on his/her beliefs, not his/her actions.  If you don’t believe in the words of John 3:16 (“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life”) you are not Christian, no matter what you do.  Likewise, if you don’t believe in the principal doctrine of Islam (“There is but one God, and Muhammad is his prophet”), you are not Muslim, no matter what you do.

Malcolm X was assassinated because, after he visited Saudi Arabia, and discovered what true Islam was about (that it was a religion of peace, not hatred and violence), he came back a changed man.  And his former followers killed him, because they didn’t want him to tell the world the truth!

I am not Christian or Muslim.  I belong to no organized religion.  But if you want to belong to an organized religion, you must believe in its primary doctrine.  Otherwise, you cannot belong to it, no matter what you do.  And since no one has control over his/her beliefs, no one has a choice regarding his/her spirituality.

As stated before, this is what I believe:

God is not limited to one system of beliefs;  God’s word is not limited to one form of communication.  God is beyond anything we humans can imagine, classify, or manipulate.  In attempting to limit God, we only limit ourselves.

In other words, our Creator is not biased toward one religion or another–our Creator is not religious.  Our Creator has no ego.  Our Creator hears the prayers of all people, if our Creator hears prayers at all.  Our Creator is not human.  Our Creator is not inhuman.  Our Creator is beyond human–so far beyond human that we cannot possibly conceive the true nature of our Creator.  Yet the “good news” is this:  We can communicate with our Creator.  We humans are the only species on Earth, at this time, that can communicate with our Creator–that has the capacity for spirituality.  We don’t need an intermediary (a “Christ”), we don’t need to have a particular view of the Creator (as organized religion prescribes).  We can simply talk to the Creator anytime, anywhere.  Whether the Creator listens to us, we cannot know.  But we can talk to the Creator, regardless.  Spirituality is innate in our species, religion is not.  Organized religion is an innovation of man, not God.  You don’t believe me?  Watch a child–any child, in any part of the world–talk to the Creator before he/she can even understand the religion of his/her parents.  Jesus (who, I believe, had absolutely nothing to do with Christianity) said it best–that we can only approach the Creator as a child does.

Yet I move on.  I want to apologize to my fellow bloggers for not reading your posts, as of late.  It is simply because I’ve been so involved with this online dating again.  I did the same the last time I tried it, with a different site.  It takes so much time to attempt to woo women with whom I have little to no chance, in the first place.  If only Jocelyn, at Hardees, would have accepted my invitation…but she didn’t.  If only Desiree, at my credit union, would have accepted my invitation…But she didn’t–they didn’t.  So now I’m “fishing” again.  There was a brief lull in my loneliness when I had my dogs–first Maxx, then Sadie–but neither worked out.  Neither could adjust to my way of life–they were rescue dogs after all.  So though I was less lonely when I had one, then the other, in my house, I was far more anxious (the last straw, in both cases, urinating and/or defecating in my house).  Therefore, I had to return them.  At least I could return them to foster homes–not to shelters. 

Yet still I miss, not those particular dogs, but having a dog.  And a cat I simply cannot tolerate (they’re wonderful pets, until they learn to climb).  Anyway, no animal (I italicize that because we humans are animals ourselves) can replace a human companion, particularly one of the opposite sex.  I’m 46 years old and I’m goddamned tired of having no female companion.  There are millions of potential mates for me (as for anyone else).  But they’re scattered all over the planet, and the nearest could be a thousand miles away.  Worse still, there is no way I can know who the nearest is, even if she lives on my street.  With such odds against us, it is amazing our species has survived at all.

Well, I’m in the mood for Loretta Young.


The following is the headline for the top story in AOL’s “News” at this moment:

Howard Traded in Blockbuster Deal

A stunning four-team trade reportedly completed late Thursday will send Orlando Magic star Dwight Howard to another team.

Is it just me, or does this seem a little bit like slavery?  Even the Hollywood stars have won their independence from the studio system of the past.  But athletes are still bought and sold–and traded–as individuals and as teams.  I realize the sports stars get paid too much money (just as the Hollywood stars do).  Yet this does not justify buying and selling–and trading–human beings.

Not only is this practice unethical–it’s downright ridiculous!


Perhaps the biggest paradox of the Digital Age is that there’s so much seemingly obscure information, yet it’s so easy to find its source.  After posting the preceeding forwarded email, I Googled wrong email address, and found the source of the joke.  And I believe in giving credit where credit is due, as much as possible, and within reason.  Here’s the link:


This is my favorite from a batch of forwarded emails I received before I began blogging.  Enjoy!

A Minneapolis couple decided to go to Florida to thaw out during a particularly icy winter.  They planned to stay at the same hotel where they spent their honeymoon twenty years earlier.  Because of hectic schedules, it was difficult to coordinate their travel plans.  So the husband left Minnesota and flew to Florida on Thursday, with his wife flying down the following day.  The husband checked into the hotel.  There was a computer in his room, and he decided to send an email to his wife.  However, he accidentally left out one letter in her email address, and without realizing his error, sent the email.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Houston, a widow had just returned home from her husband’s funeral.  He was a minister, called home to glory following a heart attack.  The widow decided to check her email, expecting messages from relatives and friends.  After reading the first message, she screamed and fainted.

The widow’s son rushed into the room, found his mother on the floor, and saw the computer screen which read:

TO:  My Loving Wife

SUBJECT:  I’ve Arrived

DATE:  October 16, 2007

I know you’re surprised to hear from me.  They have computers here now, and you are allowed to send emails to your loved ones.  I’ve just arrived, and have been checked in.  I’ve seen that everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow.  Looking forward to seeing you then!  Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was.

P.S.  Sure is hot down here!