Peter's Template has two parts: the path of love and the path of hate. Wherever you are in life, whether talking with someone or just thinking about some topic, you can instantly use Peter's Template to see if you or the other person or even an organization is on the path of love or hate. You mentally put the template over the situation, whatever it is, and see which part of the template fits better: is what is going on part of the path of love or is it part of the path of hate? Now that you know that, you can either confirm the love that is being expressed, if that is what you want to do, or if it is hate that is being expressed you can confirm the hate, confront it or walk away from it.
I have written about my sister, Sarah, being the recipient of hate from a relative, who, I will tell you now, is her sister, Rebecca. Sarah believes a great deal of Rebecca's hate comes from the fact that Sara would not demonize Rebecca's husband, Lucky. Sarah told me, "I could not demonize Lucky because I had spent too much time with Lucky and Ron (one of our brothers) when he used to work for Lucky. I heard about the other side of Rebecca, and I was not going to join in the group calling Lucky no-good and Rebecca the totally innocent victim. It just didn't happen that way."
Rebecca is very materialistic, and she came about this naturally for my family worshipped the dollar more than it worshipped God. My father was raised during the Depression and talked of the hardships often. I did not learn the following until I was in my thirties, and Mom had left Dad in Virginia for four months while she enjoyed her first visit to Idaho, a place she fell in love with. Dad was lonely, and he told me something Mom had made him sworn never to talk about for fear that it would eat him up: the homestead they had given up in Alaska later was found to have oil on it. My parents would have been fabulously rich. I was the one who got in the way for at the last moment my mother told my father that she did not want to homestead in Alaska because I would grow up among prospectors, trappers, and prostitutes. Therefore, they returned to the States, and I was born in Massachusetts where her parents lived.
Until this summer, my sister Sarah had not been to Idaho in five years. Before that, she had traveled from Vermont to Idaho almost every year. During the visit five years ago, Sarah had become aware of what Rebecca was saying about her behind her back. She learned that primarily through me. When she tried to confront Rebecca, she was met with ferocious and very articulate hatefullness. Sarah thought she was close to Rebecca, and what she saw now stunned her. She also learned that she was no match in debating Rebecca. Rebecca immediately went on a vicious, prolonged offensive, and Sarah collapsed into a silent, psychosomatic defeat even though the facts overwhelmingly supported Sarah. Sarah's heart began beating irregularly, her stomach hurt, and she began burping uncontrollably. Sarah and I were raised separately from the other four children. There was a seven year difference between the first set of children -Sarah and I - and the second set of four children. We were raised very severely by our father. The abuse was so great that my mother stood up to Dad and told him, "If you treat our other children the way you treated Sarah and Peter, I will divorce you." Sarah and I were taught that children were seen and not heard, and as a consequence both of us have found it extremely difficult to speak up and be assertive. Rebecca walked all over Sarah over the most juvenile subject: Sarah had received more than Rebecca from our parents and had therefore mooched off them. While Sarah was still in Idaho, she decided that she would confront Rebecca about the charge, and a big pow-wow was held on lawnchairs in my mother's driveway. My father was dead at this time. He was Sarah's champion too. Sarah had our mother and brother Ron sit in on the confrontation. Now Sarah had found out from an aunt in Massachusetts that Rebecca had gotten Mom to give money so her children could go to private schools (church schools) and had even helped Rebecca's son with college expenses, so Sarah was holding all the cards. But it didn't make any difference.
Sarah went over the list of things her parents had bought her since she had lived in Vermont. The list included a washer, a dryer, a stove, and a couple thousand dollars for a car. My response was, "Big freaking deal! That's what decent parents do if they can afford to." But I was not at the pow-wow. I only heard about it from Sarah. Sarah's response to Rebecca's rant was to become paralyzed except for her heart irregularity and her burping. For five hours, Rebecca hissed about Sarah taking advantage of her parents, and Sarah said nothing about the thousands of dollars in tuition that were spent on Rebecca's children. All our mother said was (to Sarah): "I thought we had bought you more than that." She said nothing to stop the crazinness, but in fairness to her, this was the sort of crazinness she had heard all her life since age seventeen from her husband, our father.Also,I am sure mother could plainly see that Rebecca was extremely vindictive, and it was Rebecca and her children who took care of her, not Sarah. Sarah would be going back to Vermont.
I will tell how Peter's Template and trying to be on the path of love led to Sarah going back to Idaho after a five year hiatus.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
Vice-President Palin, Perjury Story Begins
Congratulations to Sarah Paldin, our next Vice-President. I hope everyone feels the energy I do from just looking at this woman. She has the openness and enthusiasm of youth,principles, and of being an outdoorsperson. It is also exciting for me because I started life in an Eskimo village in Anchorage though I was born in Massachusetts and raised in the South.
I want to start the story about why I have had my Second Amendment rights taken away from me and my guns seized by the Sheriff's Office. It began when Tasha and I came down from Virginia and found the house we are living in now. As soon as we saw it, we knew that was where we wanted to live. It was a block house painted yellow, 2500 square feet with a big two-car garage. The house had been built by the owner of an air-conditioning business on 80 acres. Unfortunately, he had gone into default, and for years the house had been abandoned. Locals used the pond for duck hunting, and I think I can see bullet holes on the exterior under the yellow paint. When we bought the house, it came with a little over eight acres that included a pond. We bought the house from a New York lawyer who had retired because of a stroke. His wife, a younger woman and a psychic seemed to run things. She did all the talking.
The two of them had bought our house when it was deserted and run down. They remodeled the interior, and the psychic hanged crystals in every room to bring peace.
The combined living room and dining area was quite large as well as the kitchen. We had been living in Tasha's low income house which she had bought for $30,000 when she was working for the City of Williamsburg, Virginia as a secretary making $7,000 a year. She had two children for whom she was getting child support for a total of $250 a month. Her house was, as you would expect, very thinly built and very small.
This block house in Florida was a palace in comparison. But we didn't know that the house had an ominous history to it. A couple had won a Power Ball lotto of around 100 million dollars. They decided to try to live as anonymously as possible and came to Florida from the North looking for a place to live. They had a young son whom they loved very much and were very afraid that he would be kidnapped and held for ransom.
They were an obsessive couple, particularly the husband. They had won the Power Ball lotto by devoting the wife's entire salary to lotto tickets and had painstakingly researched every technique for picking the winning number from the most obscure mysticism to quantum physics. After years of study and betting, it had finally paid off and paid off big. Now they were looking for a place to hide.
I want to start the story about why I have had my Second Amendment rights taken away from me and my guns seized by the Sheriff's Office. It began when Tasha and I came down from Virginia and found the house we are living in now. As soon as we saw it, we knew that was where we wanted to live. It was a block house painted yellow, 2500 square feet with a big two-car garage. The house had been built by the owner of an air-conditioning business on 80 acres. Unfortunately, he had gone into default, and for years the house had been abandoned. Locals used the pond for duck hunting, and I think I can see bullet holes on the exterior under the yellow paint. When we bought the house, it came with a little over eight acres that included a pond. We bought the house from a New York lawyer who had retired because of a stroke. His wife, a younger woman and a psychic seemed to run things. She did all the talking.
The two of them had bought our house when it was deserted and run down. They remodeled the interior, and the psychic hanged crystals in every room to bring peace.
The combined living room and dining area was quite large as well as the kitchen. We had been living in Tasha's low income house which she had bought for $30,000 when she was working for the City of Williamsburg, Virginia as a secretary making $7,000 a year. She had two children for whom she was getting child support for a total of $250 a month. Her house was, as you would expect, very thinly built and very small.
This block house in Florida was a palace in comparison. But we didn't know that the house had an ominous history to it. A couple had won a Power Ball lotto of around 100 million dollars. They decided to try to live as anonymously as possible and came to Florida from the North looking for a place to live. They had a young son whom they loved very much and were very afraid that he would be kidnapped and held for ransom.
They were an obsessive couple, particularly the husband. They had won the Power Ball lotto by devoting the wife's entire salary to lotto tickets and had painstakingly researched every technique for picking the winning number from the most obscure mysticism to quantum physics. After years of study and betting, it had finally paid off and paid off big. Now they were looking for a place to hide.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Foster Child Kills Self, Child
I did call Betty Copland, Director of York County Social Services, and she asked her people if Tanya was their foster child. Betty and I stayed on the phone and waite and waited. Finally, she asked me, "What do you think is wrong that I can't even find out my own foster children?"
"I think you're people are spending too much time giving therapy rather than out in the field doing old-fashioned social work, Betty," I replied.
"You may be right."
We waited so long that she finally said,"I'll call you back, Pete."
She never did. Betty's agency had become interested in Salvador Minuchin's structural family therapy and the theory that every child should be returned to his parents in spite of the severity of the abuse or neglect. Of course, the parents would need considerable rehabilitation in many cases before that could safely be done. One of Betty's social workers, Mary Quinn Gunther-Sale had taken a leave of absence to study under Minuchin at the Philadelphia Child Guidance Clinic. When Quinn returned, she began teaching social workers all around Virginia in Minuchin's theory and practice of social work. Betty also sent other social workers up to Philadelphia to learn from the master, and Quinn was awarded The Commissioner's Medal by State Social Services Commissioner Bill Luquehardt for educating the social workers in Virginia. But as a result of this emphasis on family therapy, York County didn't even know who there foster children were (not that the agency would admit that). Eventually, my social worker, Sue Royster, informed me that York County had finally acknowledged that Tanya was their foster child, and had given Sue the name of Tanya's social worker. Sue had talked to the social worker, but she had disregarded Sue's suggestion that Tanya be offerred individual therapy. In retrospect, I should have again contacted Betty Copland and lobbied with her for Tanya to get therapy for disaster struck when Steve told Tanya he did not want to marry her. Tanya slit her wrist, killing her unborn baby and herself. I got to her funeral just as it was breaking up and saw only one York County Social Worker there, Rashid, a supervisor. He gave me a very insolent look as he drove by me, not even bothering to wave.
About a month later, the directors in my region were at lunch after a meeting. Someone said, "I wonder if we should adopt Betty's family therapy at our agencies."
Another director replied, "After all the publicity she's been getting, I don't know if we have any choice."
I knew I was crossing the Rubicon, but I didn't know the fighting would be so dirty and false, but I had to say something for the sake of any more Tanyas: I told them what had happened with Tanya and her child. You could have heard a pin drop at that table. As soon as I finished, everyone left, probably to call either Betty or their agencies to tell them the bomb I had just dropped. Soon I heard that Betty was coming after me using the newspapers. What she did was have her friend, Paula Kreschin,the state regional director, suddenly conduct "studies" of my agency, which was unheard of. We had just gone through a review by the state and passed. It was obvious that the "studies" were going to be highly critical of my agency.As each one was done, it was leaked in full to the media, and it hit the papers, television, and radio. Because of my fear of public speaking and meetings, I folded and said nothing. Like a little lamb, I let them cut my throat without a struggle. If Richard Carter had just called me to his home, I probably could have explained that I was being scapegoated for two deaths that York County and state social services desperately wanted kept a secret.I was comfortable sitting in Carter's den, talking to him man to man. Remember that the Commissioner had just given one of York County social workers a medal. My board felt tremendous pressure to get rid of me and created the lie of disobeying an order not only as a pretext to fire me but to deprive me of unemployment compensation. It was not only a terrible blow, but a low one too.
Two Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
"I think you're people are spending too much time giving therapy rather than out in the field doing old-fashioned social work, Betty," I replied.
"You may be right."
We waited so long that she finally said,"I'll call you back, Pete."
She never did. Betty's agency had become interested in Salvador Minuchin's structural family therapy and the theory that every child should be returned to his parents in spite of the severity of the abuse or neglect. Of course, the parents would need considerable rehabilitation in many cases before that could safely be done. One of Betty's social workers, Mary Quinn Gunther-Sale had taken a leave of absence to study under Minuchin at the Philadelphia Child Guidance Clinic. When Quinn returned, she began teaching social workers all around Virginia in Minuchin's theory and practice of social work. Betty also sent other social workers up to Philadelphia to learn from the master, and Quinn was awarded The Commissioner's Medal by State Social Services Commissioner Bill Luquehardt for educating the social workers in Virginia. But as a result of this emphasis on family therapy, York County didn't even know who there foster children were (not that the agency would admit that). Eventually, my social worker, Sue Royster, informed me that York County had finally acknowledged that Tanya was their foster child, and had given Sue the name of Tanya's social worker. Sue had talked to the social worker, but she had disregarded Sue's suggestion that Tanya be offerred individual therapy. In retrospect, I should have again contacted Betty Copland and lobbied with her for Tanya to get therapy for disaster struck when Steve told Tanya he did not want to marry her. Tanya slit her wrist, killing her unborn baby and herself. I got to her funeral just as it was breaking up and saw only one York County Social Worker there, Rashid, a supervisor. He gave me a very insolent look as he drove by me, not even bothering to wave.
About a month later, the directors in my region were at lunch after a meeting. Someone said, "I wonder if we should adopt Betty's family therapy at our agencies."
Another director replied, "After all the publicity she's been getting, I don't know if we have any choice."
I knew I was crossing the Rubicon, but I didn't know the fighting would be so dirty and false, but I had to say something for the sake of any more Tanyas: I told them what had happened with Tanya and her child. You could have heard a pin drop at that table. As soon as I finished, everyone left, probably to call either Betty or their agencies to tell them the bomb I had just dropped. Soon I heard that Betty was coming after me using the newspapers. What she did was have her friend, Paula Kreschin,the state regional director, suddenly conduct "studies" of my agency, which was unheard of. We had just gone through a review by the state and passed. It was obvious that the "studies" were going to be highly critical of my agency.As each one was done, it was leaked in full to the media, and it hit the papers, television, and radio. Because of my fear of public speaking and meetings, I folded and said nothing. Like a little lamb, I let them cut my throat without a struggle. If Richard Carter had just called me to his home, I probably could have explained that I was being scapegoated for two deaths that York County and state social services desperately wanted kept a secret.I was comfortable sitting in Carter's den, talking to him man to man. Remember that the Commissioner had just given one of York County social workers a medal. My board felt tremendous pressure to get rid of me and created the lie of disobeying an order not only as a pretext to fire me but to deprive me of unemployment compensation. It was not only a terrible blow, but a low one too.
Two Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Welfare Board Lies II, Paintball Marker
Another possibility could be that the city manager, Frank Force (all real names in this issue, unless stated otherwise) could have had the board invent a lie for my dismissal. This is reinforced by Joe Phillips, the City Attorney. When my lawyer and I journey to the state capital to argue that I had not disobeyed an order of the welfare board, Joe showed up. He made the absurd arguement that while I actually didn't disobey the board, I appeared to. I think this was being based on the fact that I did argue against going for permanent custody of the two foster children. Their mother had disappeared for two weeks with the son of one of our two social workers, but she had showed back up and was earnestly pledging that she would do everything we wanted her to do in order to get her children back. She also had a million excuses for disappearing. This woman had scandalized my board. For example, before we took custody of the children, she and the son of one of my social workers had engaged in sex in her bedroom and had been so engaged and for so long that the two children who were left in the livingroom staged a mutiny. One of them, the boy, started a fire. That got the attention of not only his mother but the Williamsburg Fire Department. I was so scandalized myself that I fired this part-time social worker who was a brand-new hire. But as a veteran social worker, I knew that if this woman was begging for another chance and was professing that she was willing to do anything social services said, Judge John Sowder would want to give her another chance before he took parental rights completely away from her. But my board insisted on micro-managing the professional staff, and I got a date for a court hearing. At no time did I say I would not obey the board. Going to Richmond to try to stop me from getting unemployment compensation was such a small thing for a city attorney to do but it fit with the nervousness and extreme frugality that Force practiced as city manager. On weekends, he would come into the city and water the flowers and shrubs around city hall. When it snowed, he manned a snowplow. I was very thrifty with my agency too, but he was such an abrupt Nervous Nelly that people did not enjoy being around him. He was obnoxious, dashing about, upsetting people. There was no professionalism; it was all about Frank.
The third possibility is that the suggestion of a lie came from Paula Kreschin, the state regional director, by way of Betty Copland, the director of social services in the adjoining county of York County. I had worked for Betty for a year as a Senior Social Worker, and she helped me get the job as director in the Williamsburg office. After working there several years, Sue Royster, my Senior Social Worker and only social worker at the time, came to me to discuss one of our male foster children. Steve was dating Tanya, a foster child of York County's. Tanya was pregnant with Steve's child, and she wanted to get married. Steve had expressed doubts about that but did not want to say anything to Tanya as she was the dominant one of the couple. Sue wisely suggested counseling for Steve and during his therapy, he became firm about his decision not to marry. He said, "It would be kids raising kids." Sue came to me because she feared that Tanya would be very upset with Steve's decision when he told her and had tried to call York County Social Services to speak to Tanya's social worker. She wanted to suggest that the social worker get Tanya into counseling before Steve told her his decision. York County denied she was one of their foster children. This would probably would not surprise anyone today, particularly in Florida as we know what disarray the foster children program is in. But this was the early eighties, long before the corruption began, and York County prided itself on thinking it was the best social service agency in Virginia. I had shared that pride when I worked there and thought a lot of Betty. I told Sue I would call Betty, and she would know who Tanya's social worker was
I will continue this story tomorrow because I want to mention my paintball marker: I love shooting at clay pigeons, but have had my gun rights taken away from me. I think that bad things happen to me because I do not know important people and that is something I need to work on. For four years, I have been using a slingshot and a bow to shoot at clay targets, but apparently I have worn out my rotator cup. Shooting either is painful so recently I acquired a $30 introductory model paintball marker. The partner of my current lawyer did his research and assures me there is no absurd law in Florida saying it was a firearm. I wanted to be absolutely sure as I cannot legally possess a gun. My guns are at the sheriff's office. Now the problem is that I've noticed the paintball marker does make a report when the compressed air shoots out a paintball. My fear is that my neighbors from hell will call the police saying I have a firearm, make a police report that will result in a charge, and I will have to employ an attorney for thousands of dollars to handle the charge. I am considering writing my lawyer and seeing if he can write or contact the state attorney to see if we can avoid this happening.
Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
The third possibility is that the suggestion of a lie came from Paula Kreschin, the state regional director, by way of Betty Copland, the director of social services in the adjoining county of York County. I had worked for Betty for a year as a Senior Social Worker, and she helped me get the job as director in the Williamsburg office. After working there several years, Sue Royster, my Senior Social Worker and only social worker at the time, came to me to discuss one of our male foster children. Steve was dating Tanya, a foster child of York County's. Tanya was pregnant with Steve's child, and she wanted to get married. Steve had expressed doubts about that but did not want to say anything to Tanya as she was the dominant one of the couple. Sue wisely suggested counseling for Steve and during his therapy, he became firm about his decision not to marry. He said, "It would be kids raising kids." Sue came to me because she feared that Tanya would be very upset with Steve's decision when he told her and had tried to call York County Social Services to speak to Tanya's social worker. She wanted to suggest that the social worker get Tanya into counseling before Steve told her his decision. York County denied she was one of their foster children. This would probably would not surprise anyone today, particularly in Florida as we know what disarray the foster children program is in. But this was the early eighties, long before the corruption began, and York County prided itself on thinking it was the best social service agency in Virginia. I had shared that pride when I worked there and thought a lot of Betty. I told Sue I would call Betty, and she would know who Tanya's social worker was
I will continue this story tomorrow because I want to mention my paintball marker: I love shooting at clay pigeons, but have had my gun rights taken away from me. I think that bad things happen to me because I do not know important people and that is something I need to work on. For four years, I have been using a slingshot and a bow to shoot at clay targets, but apparently I have worn out my rotator cup. Shooting either is painful so recently I acquired a $30 introductory model paintball marker. The partner of my current lawyer did his research and assures me there is no absurd law in Florida saying it was a firearm. I wanted to be absolutely sure as I cannot legally possess a gun. My guns are at the sheriff's office. Now the problem is that I've noticed the paintball marker does make a report when the compressed air shoots out a paintball. My fear is that my neighbors from hell will call the police saying I have a firearm, make a police report that will result in a charge, and I will have to employ an attorney for thousands of dollars to handle the charge. I am considering writing my lawyer and seeing if he can write or contact the state attorney to see if we can avoid this happening.
Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Monday, August 25, 2008
Welfare Board Lies
Last Friday afternoon as I lay down for a nap, it suddenly came out of nowhere: I knew why the board at Williamsburg Social Services fired me. I wasn't even thinking about the issue, but somwhere in my unconscious, I, paradoxically, was. The board claimed that I had failed an order to pursue taking two foster children into permanent custody with the right to put them up for adoption. This was a craven claim because when the board accused me of that when it fired me, I had excused myself, gone to my office a few feet away, and brought back two court orders stating the time and date to hear my arguements that those children should be put into the permanent custody of Williamsburg Social Services with the right to put them up for adoption. The board was looking for a reason to fire me due to bad publicity my agency had received. I will talk about that later. Now it was midnight -yes, midnight- and the board was fishing for an acceptable reason to terminate my employment. Since the members could find nothing that they wanted to use, they decided upon the lie that I had disobeyed their order to seek permanent custody of two specific foster children even though I had a time, date, and court order to do just that. It still amazes me how people can lie and try to deny reality. It is so childish. But very, very common.
But what I realized suddenly last Friday was that there was another reason for propagating this lie: in Virginia, if you were fired for diobedience, you were unable to collect unemployment.
Not only did the board want to take my job, it wanted to take my unemployment. I don't know where this meanness came from. I can speculate that it came from Richard Carter, the chairman of the board. He was an emotional man, a "liberal," and almost completely blind. He had been employed by Colonial Williamsburg for many years. I heard that he wanted desperately to be appointed a vice-president of Colonial Williamsburg, where he would have lived a life of ease, plenty, and great prestige. The word was that he didn't get the job because of his emotionality and dramatics.
He retired and with great bitterness about his poverty and blindness began wondering, with me at times, what kind of job he could get. I brought Mr. Carter to the board meetings and took him home. I went over to his house once a month to get him to sign the welfare checks. I brought him bluefish from the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and we ate them with wine in his dining room.
I listened to his talk for hours. He told me, "We're going to get handguns and those big folding-knives men carry on their belts banished." One time when I mentioned something stupid state welfare was doing, he cautioned me: "Whatever the state says, we must do it without questions."
When state welfare began bad publicity about my local office in Williamsburg, Carter never had the decency to call me and ask me to come over to his home and discuss things from my perspective. He was my Judas, turning himself over completely to the state (welfare) just like he had warned me he would do and would expect everyone else to do. Although an ordained minister who worked as a substitute preacher, the State was God to him and deserved absolute disobedience (I don't fear a suit from Carter as what I write is the truth, and besides, he and the City Attorney, Joe Phillips, have threatened one already. But that's another story.) I can see Carter going along with state welfare, even suggesting it, that I should be fired for the lie that I disobeyed the board. Without unemployment compensation, I would be as poor as he pretended to be. Richard Carter came from the famous Carter family of Virginia, and his mother, who was bedridden and lived with him, had a very big investment portfolio. But Carter was always boo-hooing to me that he was forced to live "in genteel poverty."
But what I realized suddenly last Friday was that there was another reason for propagating this lie: in Virginia, if you were fired for diobedience, you were unable to collect unemployment.
Not only did the board want to take my job, it wanted to take my unemployment. I don't know where this meanness came from. I can speculate that it came from Richard Carter, the chairman of the board. He was an emotional man, a "liberal," and almost completely blind. He had been employed by Colonial Williamsburg for many years. I heard that he wanted desperately to be appointed a vice-president of Colonial Williamsburg, where he would have lived a life of ease, plenty, and great prestige. The word was that he didn't get the job because of his emotionality and dramatics.
He retired and with great bitterness about his poverty and blindness began wondering, with me at times, what kind of job he could get. I brought Mr. Carter to the board meetings and took him home. I went over to his house once a month to get him to sign the welfare checks. I brought him bluefish from the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and we ate them with wine in his dining room.
I listened to his talk for hours. He told me, "We're going to get handguns and those big folding-knives men carry on their belts banished." One time when I mentioned something stupid state welfare was doing, he cautioned me: "Whatever the state says, we must do it without questions."
When state welfare began bad publicity about my local office in Williamsburg, Carter never had the decency to call me and ask me to come over to his home and discuss things from my perspective. He was my Judas, turning himself over completely to the state (welfare) just like he had warned me he would do and would expect everyone else to do. Although an ordained minister who worked as a substitute preacher, the State was God to him and deserved absolute disobedience (I don't fear a suit from Carter as what I write is the truth, and besides, he and the City Attorney, Joe Phillips, have threatened one already. But that's another story.) I can see Carter going along with state welfare, even suggesting it, that I should be fired for the lie that I disobeyed the board. Without unemployment compensation, I would be as poor as he pretended to be. Richard Carter came from the famous Carter family of Virginia, and his mother, who was bedridden and lived with him, had a very big investment portfolio. But Carter was always boo-hooing to me that he was forced to live "in genteel poverty."
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Obama's Lie
I did not take lightly the enormity of writing that Obama was a baby killer of both unborn and born babies in my post yesterday. In fact, I woke up early worrying about it. I mulled it over for an hour and then gave up and took a valerian root capsule. Then I got back to sleep. Now I understand that Obama is brazenly and absurdly denied that he spoke against and voted against the Illinois Born Alive Infant Protection Act. He's on video arguing against it. Tasha who is much more pragmatic than me would simply say, "Of course he would lie," but I am always looking for deeper answers. I think I have found one in Jonah Goldberg's brilliant book, "Liberal Fascism."
Goldberg points out that one of the early fascists, George Sorel, wrote that the truth was not important; it was only important that the people believed what you told them. If they believed you, then a lie became the truth, so good leaders had to lie well (page 37).
Somehow my completed post was erased, and I don't have enough time left at the library computer to recreate it. Hasta Luego, Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Goldberg points out that one of the early fascists, George Sorel, wrote that the truth was not important; it was only important that the people believed what you told them. If they believed you, then a lie became the truth, so good leaders had to lie well (page 37).
Somehow my completed post was erased, and I don't have enough time left at the library computer to recreate it. Hasta Luego, Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Obama, The Baby Killer
I can hardly believe what I am writing: that a person who is going to be a presidential nominee from the biggest political party in the United States is a baby killer. Partially spearheaded by a nurse who saw babies who survived attempted killings of unborn babies- abortions- the Born Alive Infant Protection Act was introduced into the legislative session of the Illinois state legislature for two consecutive years in the early 2000s. This act would have ended the child abuse ( didn't Illinois already have a law prohibiting child abuse and neglect with Child Protective Social Workers in every local social service department or weren't these agencies responding to the calls because of political, read power, concerns?) practice of taking babies who had survived doctors' attempts to kill them when they were still unborn and neglecting them until they died. That is doctors would take the naked baby who had survived their attempts to murder him, put the baby unclothed into dirty lined closets or anywhere else convenient, deprive them of clothing and milk until the baby died of coldness, thirst, and hunger. This is unbelievable. This is America? Not the America that I love and fight for. Doctors take the Hippocratic Oath which states first: "Non nocere"- to do no harm, and then they turn around and kill innocent babies?
I saw on "Hannity and Colmes," Barack Obama standing on the floor of the Illinois legislature saying in April, 2002 that he opposed the Born Alive Infant Protection Act because "it would place an undue burden on the mother and the physician" to have a second physician step in and care for the born alive baby after an unsuccessful abortion attempt. What about the burden for the mother and the doctor for murdering a baby, for murdering an American citizen? Obama was supporting infanticide. This is the man (?) you want for President? If Obama will take completely innocent babies and make them cold, hungry, and thirsty until they die, what will he do to you? Don't believe the hype, my friend. Believe the actions. History is prelude. To put it lightly, Obama does not have the judgement to be president or even a social worker. He is a baby killer, both unborn and born. He kills American citizens. I have shown you in previous blogs issues where Obama is on the path of hate. This is the most important one for this is murder, and if a man will murder newly-born babies, no one is safe from his disturbed mind. This man needs help, but I know of no friends who are healthy enough to help him. He's got "America is Mean" Michelle, G-- - D--- America" Reverend Wright, "Put down the whites" Father Phleger, and "Bomb the Pentagon" Ayers for friends. These people will not try to help him get on the path of love toward children. Oh, yes, he loves his children, but he obviously doesn't love yours or mine. I speak this as a natural father, an adoptive father, a former step-father and a former Protective Services Social Worker and supervisor. Do not vote for The Baby Killer; vote for The Patriot.
I had been referring to Obama as The Teleprompter, but I heard that he used part of his vacation in Hawaii to learn to make speeches without using the teleprompter.
For the past two days, the libraries have been closed due to tropical storm, Fay. Twice the electricity went out at home, but those periods were very short. Many frogs came inside, and it has been sad finding them dead on the floor. I use a lot of Clorox on the tile, cleaning up after the dogs and suspect they died of Clorox permeating their skin. Next time, I will try to catch all of them and get them back outside. There are hundreds of broken limbs in the front and back yards. We have close to a hundred mature and dead trees, and limbs are always falling. After a storm, it's especially bad.
I mentioned in another blog Neal Boortz's two assistants, Belinda and Royal, backstabbing him with "liberal" comments. I'd like to add that Boortz needs to give up his little warning of "I will lie to you." if it is not true. If it's true, then he should get off the air. No one has time to listen to liars, and who would want to?
Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
I saw on "Hannity and Colmes," Barack Obama standing on the floor of the Illinois legislature saying in April, 2002 that he opposed the Born Alive Infant Protection Act because "it would place an undue burden on the mother and the physician" to have a second physician step in and care for the born alive baby after an unsuccessful abortion attempt. What about the burden for the mother and the doctor for murdering a baby, for murdering an American citizen? Obama was supporting infanticide. This is the man (?) you want for President? If Obama will take completely innocent babies and make them cold, hungry, and thirsty until they die, what will he do to you? Don't believe the hype, my friend. Believe the actions. History is prelude. To put it lightly, Obama does not have the judgement to be president or even a social worker. He is a baby killer, both unborn and born. He kills American citizens. I have shown you in previous blogs issues where Obama is on the path of hate. This is the most important one for this is murder, and if a man will murder newly-born babies, no one is safe from his disturbed mind. This man needs help, but I know of no friends who are healthy enough to help him. He's got "America is Mean" Michelle, G-- - D--- America" Reverend Wright, "Put down the whites" Father Phleger, and "Bomb the Pentagon" Ayers for friends. These people will not try to help him get on the path of love toward children. Oh, yes, he loves his children, but he obviously doesn't love yours or mine. I speak this as a natural father, an adoptive father, a former step-father and a former Protective Services Social Worker and supervisor. Do not vote for The Baby Killer; vote for The Patriot.
I had been referring to Obama as The Teleprompter, but I heard that he used part of his vacation in Hawaii to learn to make speeches without using the teleprompter.
For the past two days, the libraries have been closed due to tropical storm, Fay. Twice the electricity went out at home, but those periods were very short. Many frogs came inside, and it has been sad finding them dead on the floor. I use a lot of Clorox on the tile, cleaning up after the dogs and suspect they died of Clorox permeating their skin. Next time, I will try to catch all of them and get them back outside. There are hundreds of broken limbs in the front and back yards. We have close to a hundred mature and dead trees, and limbs are always falling. After a storm, it's especially bad.
I mentioned in another blog Neal Boortz's two assistants, Belinda and Royal, backstabbing him with "liberal" comments. I'd like to add that Boortz needs to give up his little warning of "I will lie to you." if it is not true. If it's true, then he should get off the air. No one has time to listen to liars, and who would want to?
Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Bigfoot In A Box, Love, Obama
Tropical storm Faye is on the way: As Audrey and I drove to Alachua City for hay and horse food, we saw a flame bursting peridically on some electrical lines. Upon closer inspection, I saw that a pine bough was stuck on one line, and when the wind blew it into another line, there would be a big flame of electicity. It was probably caused by the sap in the pine limb. I called 911, and in two minutes a Clay Electrical truck was on the scene, and in seven minutes a fire truck was there.
Saturday, while I was waitng on the pier at the lake for Bobby to pick me up, I got a call from Mikah Singleton who gave me the latest on the Bigfoot in a freezer story. The two men who supposedly found it had said the day before that DNA analyses had reported that one area of the Bigfoot showed DNA related to humans, another area showed an inconclusive result, and the area from the stomach showed the DNA of an opossum. I said, "Well, maybe Bigfoot ate a possum." Mikah also told me that the two men are now offerring a Bigfoot expedition next month for a thousand dollars a person. That's a lot of money for a several days of several days of camping. Mikah had also found on the Internet a man who claimed the two men only had an ape suit in the freezer because he had made it along with the headpiece. This morning on Fox News, Megyn Kelly announced that the nationally known Bigfoot hunter, Tom Biscardi, was going to sue the two men, both cops, for fraud because he had paind "thousands" for the Bigfoot in the freezer only to find out that it was a rubber ape suit. Both men have disappeared. A Fox contributor pointed out that Biscardi himself had pulled a scam on the public a few years ago when he advertised a pay-per-view showing of the capture of a live Bigfoot, several hundred people bought into it, and nothing was shown. Here's a real case of what goes around comes around apparently. For Biscardi to go anywhere with his suit against the two swindlers, there has to be reasonable expectation that there would be a Bigfoot in a box (freezer). I don't think you can reasonably expect there to be an eight foot Bigfoot in a freezer. I've never seen an eight foot freezer, though there are many stories of human bodies being found in freezers.
I want to illustrate my concept of the hypothesis that you are either on the path of love or the path of hate in everything you do: My sister Sara has two sons, the older is absolutely brilliant. He has scored first in the state of Vermont in mathematics. But he is, like many scholars, somewhat introverted and cryptic at times. The younger son is very intelligent and much more outgoing and verbal. Last summer, a close relative was planning a week at the ocean and had rented a gorgeous house. She invited Sara's younger son but not the older one. Sara and I discussed it, but only in terms of what path our relative was on. We decided she was on the path of hate regarding Sara's older son, and since Sara and our relative were not speaking, I said I would write our relative and ask her to get on the path of love with Sara's older son and invite him to a week at the beach. There was no more analysis: we did not diagnose the relative or call her any names. We simply hoped she would do the right thing, that is, get on the path of love.
The relative responded well to my letter, calling Sara's son. He didn't know why she called, asked my sister about it, but never got around to calling the relative back. But the relative was back on the path of love toward him. If you find people acting hatefully, try not diagnosing or labeling them, but finding a polite, warm way of suggesting they get on the path of love. Remember that this was Christ's admonition for us: We were to love each other like He loved us.
He gave his human life through torture for us as a blood sacrifice so that we could be forgiven and allowed to enter the kingdom of heaven after our deaths. How many macho beefcakes do you know who would manipulate the Romans and the Sanhedrins to torture him to death first through a near-fatal whipping and then the crucifix? Who would have the guts to do that?
Obama, The Teleprompter, has an advertisement that says something like: "We are what we have been waiting for?" Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the father of fascism, wrote that there should be a secular religion to replace Christianity with the political vanguard as the new priests. This religion would be based upon "the general will" of the people and would result in the people worshipping themselves as the new God. Doesn't Obama's "We are what we have been waiting for." dovetail nicely with this part of the fascist religion?
Correction: Yesterday, I believe I wrote that the Bigfoot in Teddy Roosevelt's book rolled over the human he had killed. By that, I meant that he rolled on the body of the man as he frolicked about, not that he rolled the man over.
I hope the electricity will be on so we can meet tomorrow on the Internet, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Saturday, while I was waitng on the pier at the lake for Bobby to pick me up, I got a call from Mikah Singleton who gave me the latest on the Bigfoot in a freezer story. The two men who supposedly found it had said the day before that DNA analyses had reported that one area of the Bigfoot showed DNA related to humans, another area showed an inconclusive result, and the area from the stomach showed the DNA of an opossum. I said, "Well, maybe Bigfoot ate a possum." Mikah also told me that the two men are now offerring a Bigfoot expedition next month for a thousand dollars a person. That's a lot of money for a several days of several days of camping. Mikah had also found on the Internet a man who claimed the two men only had an ape suit in the freezer because he had made it along with the headpiece. This morning on Fox News, Megyn Kelly announced that the nationally known Bigfoot hunter, Tom Biscardi, was going to sue the two men, both cops, for fraud because he had paind "thousands" for the Bigfoot in the freezer only to find out that it was a rubber ape suit. Both men have disappeared. A Fox contributor pointed out that Biscardi himself had pulled a scam on the public a few years ago when he advertised a pay-per-view showing of the capture of a live Bigfoot, several hundred people bought into it, and nothing was shown. Here's a real case of what goes around comes around apparently. For Biscardi to go anywhere with his suit against the two swindlers, there has to be reasonable expectation that there would be a Bigfoot in a box (freezer). I don't think you can reasonably expect there to be an eight foot Bigfoot in a freezer. I've never seen an eight foot freezer, though there are many stories of human bodies being found in freezers.
I want to illustrate my concept of the hypothesis that you are either on the path of love or the path of hate in everything you do: My sister Sara has two sons, the older is absolutely brilliant. He has scored first in the state of Vermont in mathematics. But he is, like many scholars, somewhat introverted and cryptic at times. The younger son is very intelligent and much more outgoing and verbal. Last summer, a close relative was planning a week at the ocean and had rented a gorgeous house. She invited Sara's younger son but not the older one. Sara and I discussed it, but only in terms of what path our relative was on. We decided she was on the path of hate regarding Sara's older son, and since Sara and our relative were not speaking, I said I would write our relative and ask her to get on the path of love with Sara's older son and invite him to a week at the beach. There was no more analysis: we did not diagnose the relative or call her any names. We simply hoped she would do the right thing, that is, get on the path of love.
The relative responded well to my letter, calling Sara's son. He didn't know why she called, asked my sister about it, but never got around to calling the relative back. But the relative was back on the path of love toward him. If you find people acting hatefully, try not diagnosing or labeling them, but finding a polite, warm way of suggesting they get on the path of love. Remember that this was Christ's admonition for us: We were to love each other like He loved us.
He gave his human life through torture for us as a blood sacrifice so that we could be forgiven and allowed to enter the kingdom of heaven after our deaths. How many macho beefcakes do you know who would manipulate the Romans and the Sanhedrins to torture him to death first through a near-fatal whipping and then the crucifix? Who would have the guts to do that?
Obama, The Teleprompter, has an advertisement that says something like: "We are what we have been waiting for?" Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the father of fascism, wrote that there should be a secular religion to replace Christianity with the political vanguard as the new priests. This religion would be based upon "the general will" of the people and would result in the people worshipping themselves as the new God. Doesn't Obama's "We are what we have been waiting for." dovetail nicely with this part of the fascist religion?
Correction: Yesterday, I believe I wrote that the Bigfoot in Teddy Roosevelt's book rolled over the human he had killed. By that, I meant that he rolled on the body of the man as he frolicked about, not that he rolled the man over.
I hope the electricity will be on so we can meet tomorrow on the Internet, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Teddy's Bigfoot, Boortz's Mistake
What's better today, old scout? For me, it's that I memorized another sentence of John Galt's speech after about a week's hiatus. Tasha had bad news yesterday: she has shingles. It is no wonder since she is under constant stress. She is a person who goes from one crisis to another, and she never seems to get tired or ironical about that. Tasha had a very tough childhood, and I'm afraid that permanently being in a crisis gives her homeostasis. That is, she feels that is how things should be. I think she could change her thinking if she forced herself to find five "What's Betters" every morning, but if I suggested that I don't think I would be well received.
Another better thing is that after two hours of reading, I found the mention of a Bigfoot (though not by that name) in Theodore Roosevelt's The Wilderness Hunter. It was midnight when I came across it at the end of Volume II of the Elkhart Edition. An old mountain hunter by the name of Bauman told Teddy the story. A companion and he were trapping when Bauman was just a teenager. They were hunting for beaver in the mountains dividing thae forks of the Salmon River from the head of the Wisdom River. This would be in the Idaho-Wyoming area.
They set up camp, left it to set up their traps, and when they came back their leanto was destroyed and the camp trashed. There were footprints of a creature who walked on two legs all around the campsite. Later that night, Bauman woke up smelling "a strong, wild-beast odor," saw the hulk of a great body, and shot at him. The creature crashed through the brush in his departure. The two men trapped the next day and returned to camp to find their leanto destroyed and their camp trashed again. That night they could hear the creature moving around, uttering "a harsh, grating, long-drawn moan, a perfectly sinister sound." Bauman left his buddy in camp the next day as he planned to gather up the last three beaver traps so the men could strike camp and move on. He did not get back until sunset because a beaver had pulled himself out of the trap and gone into his beaverhouse. Bauman pursued him and tore apart the beaverhouse to get him. At camp, he found his buddy outstretched on the ground, dead with four great fang-marks in his throat. The footprints of the two-legged creature in the mud told the story: He had crept up behind Bauman's buddy as the man sat on a log, broke his neck, and bit him in the throat. Then the creature had romped around the campsite apparently in great glee (just as we have seen chimpanzees behave), occasionally rolling over the body of his victim.
Bauman left the campsite immediately, taking only his rifle, walked to where the two ponies were hobbled, and got as far away as he could before it became too dark to travel.
Yesterday I listened to Neal Boortz rant about his plan to save people in a flood or other catastrophe: He would take the richest people first because they are the most productive and would help rebuild the area the most. Now, Neal is a libertarian and an Ayn Randian. That is why I listen to him in spite of his crassness and sexual frustration. As a libertarian and an Ayn Randian, he believes in the sanctity of the individual and therefore the rights of the individual.
If you decide to rescue people on the basis of how productive they are to the community, you do not believe in the sanctity of the individual. If you believe in the sanctity of the individual, then you rescue people as you come upon them. You don't check to see how well-dressed they are or what kind of watch they are wearing. So Neal was going against his own philosophy and what he stands for. It is a pity that a man who pours his heart out evey day espousing libertarian ideas can't convince his two assistants, Belinda and Royal, who remain Democrats. The show would have much more power if his assistants could build on what he says in his remarks instead of tearing them down. As a libertarian and an Ayn Randian myself, I am grateful that I discovered the concept of the path of love and the path of hate as the two paths we take in life. It took several days of thinking and grieving about my life, finally seeing that I had been on the path of hate before I invented the concept. If Neal Boortz would use my concept, he would be much more effective. For instance at the Saddleback Church interview, The Teleprompter was trounced by The Patriot. One thing Obama, The Teleprompter, said was that he supported abortion, even partial-birth abortion. If you support killing unborn children, even children half-born, then you are not on the path of love toward those children. You are on the path of hate. Of course, Neal won't discuss abortion, but there are plenty of policies by The Teleprompter that show that Obama is traveling the path of hate, not love.
Keep your powder dry as you walk the path of love, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Another better thing is that after two hours of reading, I found the mention of a Bigfoot (though not by that name) in Theodore Roosevelt's The Wilderness Hunter. It was midnight when I came across it at the end of Volume II of the Elkhart Edition. An old mountain hunter by the name of Bauman told Teddy the story. A companion and he were trapping when Bauman was just a teenager. They were hunting for beaver in the mountains dividing thae forks of the Salmon River from the head of the Wisdom River. This would be in the Idaho-Wyoming area.
They set up camp, left it to set up their traps, and when they came back their leanto was destroyed and the camp trashed. There were footprints of a creature who walked on two legs all around the campsite. Later that night, Bauman woke up smelling "a strong, wild-beast odor," saw the hulk of a great body, and shot at him. The creature crashed through the brush in his departure. The two men trapped the next day and returned to camp to find their leanto destroyed and their camp trashed again. That night they could hear the creature moving around, uttering "a harsh, grating, long-drawn moan, a perfectly sinister sound." Bauman left his buddy in camp the next day as he planned to gather up the last three beaver traps so the men could strike camp and move on. He did not get back until sunset because a beaver had pulled himself out of the trap and gone into his beaverhouse. Bauman pursued him and tore apart the beaverhouse to get him. At camp, he found his buddy outstretched on the ground, dead with four great fang-marks in his throat. The footprints of the two-legged creature in the mud told the story: He had crept up behind Bauman's buddy as the man sat on a log, broke his neck, and bit him in the throat. Then the creature had romped around the campsite apparently in great glee (just as we have seen chimpanzees behave), occasionally rolling over the body of his victim.
Bauman left the campsite immediately, taking only his rifle, walked to where the two ponies were hobbled, and got as far away as he could before it became too dark to travel.
Yesterday I listened to Neal Boortz rant about his plan to save people in a flood or other catastrophe: He would take the richest people first because they are the most productive and would help rebuild the area the most. Now, Neal is a libertarian and an Ayn Randian. That is why I listen to him in spite of his crassness and sexual frustration. As a libertarian and an Ayn Randian, he believes in the sanctity of the individual and therefore the rights of the individual.
If you decide to rescue people on the basis of how productive they are to the community, you do not believe in the sanctity of the individual. If you believe in the sanctity of the individual, then you rescue people as you come upon them. You don't check to see how well-dressed they are or what kind of watch they are wearing. So Neal was going against his own philosophy and what he stands for. It is a pity that a man who pours his heart out evey day espousing libertarian ideas can't convince his two assistants, Belinda and Royal, who remain Democrats. The show would have much more power if his assistants could build on what he says in his remarks instead of tearing them down. As a libertarian and an Ayn Randian myself, I am grateful that I discovered the concept of the path of love and the path of hate as the two paths we take in life. It took several days of thinking and grieving about my life, finally seeing that I had been on the path of hate before I invented the concept. If Neal Boortz would use my concept, he would be much more effective. For instance at the Saddleback Church interview, The Teleprompter was trounced by The Patriot. One thing Obama, The Teleprompter, said was that he supported abortion, even partial-birth abortion. If you support killing unborn children, even children half-born, then you are not on the path of love toward those children. You are on the path of hate. Of course, Neal won't discuss abortion, but there are plenty of policies by The Teleprompter that show that Obama is traveling the path of hate, not love.
Keep your powder dry as you walk the path of love, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Bluegill Fishing
What's better today, my friend? For me, it is the memory of fishing Saturday with my son, Bobby. We did not boat around the lake looking for fish which might have given me a chance to check the shore for Bigfoot tracks. Two law enforcement people reported seeing a Bigfoot in Arkansas on the shore of a river apparently to catch crappie. They supposedly found the carcasses of several crappie he had eaten. Bobby fishes almost every day and is now able to smell the fish when they are bedding. Couldn't a Bigfoot do the same? One thing a Bigfoot hunter could do if it were legal would be to take a canoe out along with a poweful spotlight with a red lens and paddle along the shore of a lake or river. Once in a while, he could turn the spotlight on to see what was going on. Bobby told me, " You can tell what the weather is going to be by watching the eagles. If there is a storm coming up, they will come out in force looking for food. I've seen as many as six. Also the gators will start swimming out of the center of the lake to the shore. If it's going to be good weather you will see the big ones swimming out to the center of the lake." Late in the afternoon, we did see a big one going for the center of the lake. The boats of alligator hunters came by and tried to snag him on big treble hooks connected to fishing rods, but each boat failed. The gator does not remain on the surface, of course, but goes down to the bottom where he brushes the bottom and releases air bubbles. You can see where he's swimming away by the trail of air bubbles. You lead him and cast your treble hook whick catches on his armored plates. Then you get towed until he becomes to tired to swim anymore. At that point, you can hook him again and pull him to the side of the boat. Then you use a push gun on a pole to shoot him in the head and kill him. Bobby and I hunted with a professional gator hunter, and we took a twelve-foot gator out of the lake Bobby and I fished Saturday. It was interesting and very unusual but not exciting. The exciting part was that I had to sit on the gators in the boat, and they were not dead. Bobby had a seat right on the bow of the boat because he had good eyes and could spot the gators first. You shined a spotlight and picked up their glowing red eyes. One time, Bobby almost got knocked into the water by one of the half-dead gators I was sitting on. He did not Bobby's chair over. People at the gator processing plant kidded our gator hunter about bringing in half-alive gators and told of a time one jumped off his boat. Bobby and I hunted with this man two years until his wife, a registered nurse. told me, "We keep them half-alive so their meat won't spoil before we get them to the processing plant." I was amazed that a woman and a registered nurse to boot could countenance such cruelty. Plus, she knew I wrote a monthly column in an outdoor magazine. There's a law out there that says the more you study something, the less definite it becomes. That applies here too for gators do not die easily, and people say that even if they are dead, they will still move, like a snake does after death. In fact, I've read that the only way to make sure they don't move is to run a rod up their spinal cord. The old-time illegal gator hunters used to do that sometimes to keep the gator quiet. I had hoped to have a friendship with my gator hunter and was already planning a snipe hunt with him down at Kissimmee Lake, but when I heard he was being deliberately cruel to the gators that ended our relationship. Saturday, I asked a gator outfitter if he was still operating, but he didn't know him.
Bobby and I did well, getting 92 bluegills. We used 350 crickets which was a big bill. Bobby knew exactly where they were so all we did was motor over a few hundred yards, tie up, and stay in the same spot all day. I was broiled medium-rare, and my aloe plant hates me.
I asked a number of fishermen and gator hunters about seeing a Bigfoot, and none had. I heard this: "I finished fishing and came back to the landing. There was the most beautiful blonde I've ever seen. She came up to me and said, 'Please Mister, could I buy some of your fish. I'm having a fish fry for my children, and I don't have enough fish.' Now I knew enough not to sell fish to strangers even a gorgeous blonde so I said no, and she went over to another guy. He sold her some, and she immediately pulled out a badge showing she was an undercover game warden. Now this seems like entrapment to me. How do you refuse a gorgeous blond who wants to feed her kids." My answer is that you give her the fish along with your phone number. Now, if that's illegal, you don't. Just give her your phone number and offer to take her and her oldest child fishing. My friend, there are so many laws out there in hunting and fishing that you need a law degree to stay out of trouble. It's got so that a game warden could probably walk up to you and find something you were doing that was illegal if he were inclined. And we are the ones who are paying for the outdoor enviroment. Part of the answer is to support organizations that help stop the incessant encroachment on your freedom like the National Rifle Association.
Try to walk the path of love until we meet. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Bobby and I did well, getting 92 bluegills. We used 350 crickets which was a big bill. Bobby knew exactly where they were so all we did was motor over a few hundred yards, tie up, and stay in the same spot all day. I was broiled medium-rare, and my aloe plant hates me.
I asked a number of fishermen and gator hunters about seeing a Bigfoot, and none had. I heard this: "I finished fishing and came back to the landing. There was the most beautiful blonde I've ever seen. She came up to me and said, 'Please Mister, could I buy some of your fish. I'm having a fish fry for my children, and I don't have enough fish.' Now I knew enough not to sell fish to strangers even a gorgeous blonde so I said no, and she went over to another guy. He sold her some, and she immediately pulled out a badge showing she was an undercover game warden. Now this seems like entrapment to me. How do you refuse a gorgeous blond who wants to feed her kids." My answer is that you give her the fish along with your phone number. Now, if that's illegal, you don't. Just give her your phone number and offer to take her and her oldest child fishing. My friend, there are so many laws out there in hunting and fishing that you need a law degree to stay out of trouble. It's got so that a game warden could probably walk up to you and find something you were doing that was illegal if he were inclined. And we are the ones who are paying for the outdoor enviroment. Part of the answer is to support organizations that help stop the incessant encroachment on your freedom like the National Rifle Association.
Try to walk the path of love until we meet. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Friday, August 15, 2008
What's better today, my friend? I am happy that Dually, the rescued quaterhorse, is back where he belongs. He knocked a fence down enough to get off the property. I brought him water and food as soon as I called Tasha. She put a dog leash around him and led him back home. Odessa, the white rescued Arabian was screaming for him. Dually was one of several horses rescued from a cop who was no longer feeding his horses. Why, I don't know. Tasha got him from south Florida when the woman who was rescuing horses lost her insurance job and could no longer afford to take care of them. Tasha got Odessa from the same woman several years ago.
She was being starved by her Cuban owner in south Florida. From what I have been able to learn, Cubans have a bush league where they race horses informally, and it is their custom not to feed horses who don't do well or they don't like. Sounds sub-human, doesn't it? We Americans have no idea how enlightened we are.
I was also happy to be able to get the clay pigeon on my third shot with my slingshot. I am shooting from the easiest position - directly in the path of the clay bird. Sometimes, I have to duck or move. When I hit the bird, I then move one giant step (this is a game) away from where I shot and shoot once there. If I hit the bird, I move another giant step away. If I miss, I have to make a giant step back to the original position directly in the path of the clay bird. In this manner, I am building upon success. But success is extremely slow for I am still on the original spot. Whenever I move away a step, I miss the bird and have to go back to the self-defense shots. Smashing a clay pigeon is a totally satisfying experience.
Audrey and I just made a run into High Springs for horse feed and hay. A David Anderson told me, "I saw a small, young, black panther at Camp O'Leno - that's what O'Leno State Park was called back then. He was crossing a trail just at dusk. This was when I was in teenager so it would be back in fifties." Justin Smith said, "I saw a mountain lion on Bible Camp Road (a dirt road on the north side of O'Leno State Park), and I know it was a mountain lion and not a Florida panther because it had a tuft at the end of his tail. I've seen mountain lions in California. I drive a S-10 which is real noisy. The lion jumped the fence and then stood on the other side looking at me, probably because of the noise of my truck. You know how a deer will run up to a fence, hesitate, and then bound over it. Not that lion. He never hesitated and just sailed over that fence."
While I was reading a book about panthers, I came upon this little gem: "Defeat is certain if a champion will not take to the field." Thus wrote Ken Alavarez in Twilight Of The Panther.
If things go as planned, tomorrow I will be out in the field looking for Bigfoot and black panthers. I saw no mention of Tom Bascardi's promised news conference in Palo Alto about the dead Bigfoot's DNA and about more pictures of the creature on Fox News this morning. I will check the internet when I can.
A couple of weeks ago, I tried to read Worth The Fighting For by John McCain with Mark Salter. I was disappointed with the book for it seemed to be almost all about thanking people for their good ideas and good work. It had no ideology, no philosophy that I saw. I did see why John McCain supported General Petraeus' surge though. McCain wrote, "You can't hold ground from the air, and holding ground is what constitutes victory in warfare (page 288)" If we had only followed that strategy in Vietnam and much sooner in Iraq. If he had written more principles like that, I would have read the book instead of reading through it.
May we do our best to walk The Path Of Love until we meet again, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
She was being starved by her Cuban owner in south Florida. From what I have been able to learn, Cubans have a bush league where they race horses informally, and it is their custom not to feed horses who don't do well or they don't like. Sounds sub-human, doesn't it? We Americans have no idea how enlightened we are.
I was also happy to be able to get the clay pigeon on my third shot with my slingshot. I am shooting from the easiest position - directly in the path of the clay bird. Sometimes, I have to duck or move. When I hit the bird, I then move one giant step (this is a game) away from where I shot and shoot once there. If I hit the bird, I move another giant step away. If I miss, I have to make a giant step back to the original position directly in the path of the clay bird. In this manner, I am building upon success. But success is extremely slow for I am still on the original spot. Whenever I move away a step, I miss the bird and have to go back to the self-defense shots. Smashing a clay pigeon is a totally satisfying experience.
Audrey and I just made a run into High Springs for horse feed and hay. A David Anderson told me, "I saw a small, young, black panther at Camp O'Leno - that's what O'Leno State Park was called back then. He was crossing a trail just at dusk. This was when I was in teenager so it would be back in fifties." Justin Smith said, "I saw a mountain lion on Bible Camp Road (a dirt road on the north side of O'Leno State Park), and I know it was a mountain lion and not a Florida panther because it had a tuft at the end of his tail. I've seen mountain lions in California. I drive a S-10 which is real noisy. The lion jumped the fence and then stood on the other side looking at me, probably because of the noise of my truck. You know how a deer will run up to a fence, hesitate, and then bound over it. Not that lion. He never hesitated and just sailed over that fence."
While I was reading a book about panthers, I came upon this little gem: "Defeat is certain if a champion will not take to the field." Thus wrote Ken Alavarez in Twilight Of The Panther.
If things go as planned, tomorrow I will be out in the field looking for Bigfoot and black panthers. I saw no mention of Tom Bascardi's promised news conference in Palo Alto about the dead Bigfoot's DNA and about more pictures of the creature on Fox News this morning. I will check the internet when I can.
A couple of weeks ago, I tried to read Worth The Fighting For by John McCain with Mark Salter. I was disappointed with the book for it seemed to be almost all about thanking people for their good ideas and good work. It had no ideology, no philosophy that I saw. I did see why John McCain supported General Petraeus' surge though. McCain wrote, "You can't hold ground from the air, and holding ground is what constitutes victory in warfare (page 288)" If we had only followed that strategy in Vietnam and much sooner in Iraq. If he had written more principles like that, I would have read the book instead of reading through it.
May we do our best to walk The Path Of Love until we meet again, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
What's better, my friend? For me, it is that both my children have tried to call me back after I called them. I was beginning to worry about Hawkey because it had been days. I just got back from Wal-Mart where I bought two more Carbon Express Terminator arrows. They were $7 apiece not $5.
Tasha petted the dog who has diabetes, and the skin came off. Of course, she took her into the vet's today and learned that the dog has an infection and that her sugar level is a whopping 453. She's back on insulin, but Tasha wanted to know why the huge increase. This was the dog Tasha was curing her diabetes with a diet of pulled, boiled chicken and canned salmon. The vet said that when a dog has an infection, his sugar level will often go up. The dog was "treated" for an earlier episode of her skin sloughing by the kick-boxing champion vet, and our present vet thinks Dog never got rid of the infection. She wanted to know what the kick-boxing champion treated the infection with and was astounded when Tasha replied, "Nothing." She's started Dog on antibiotics and is confident she can eliminate the infection.
For you who remember the intelligent, even scholarly dog who was one of the three bitten by the timber rattlesnake, he is now overweight. Tasha had scheduled him for an appointment with the vet tomorrow because he was vomiting, and she feared he had heart disease just like his dead brother, Tanner. Wednesday, Tasha got very upset with his condition and was able to take him in that day. The good news is that his heart is in excellent shape. Dog's liver numbers are too high, but the vet said that could be a function of obesity. She wants Dog to lose twenty pounds, and Tasha has already brought in bags of diet dogfood. I like dogs a little heavy and think he can safely lose only ten pounds.
While Audrey watched the dogs to make sure they didn't bark a lot, I spent two hours at the church library last night looking for more information on the supposed dead bigfoot in Georgia. I read that the two men who found (or shot) the bigfoot had made a video where they showed a doctor of pathology examining the creature and announcing that he was indeed a Bigfoot. Then the video supposedly had one of the two men revealing that the doctor of pathology was really one of the two men's brother who was not a pathologist. The film also showed the men explaining that they were just trying to hype the event, and people shouldn't be so serious. Maybe we shouldn't be so serious as to think any of this is true. I tried to access the You-Tube film, but it was no longer available. If there isn't a press conference to show more pictures of the animal and his DNA analysis results, you'll know this is a scam. This would be fine with me because I'd like to be the first to "find" Bigfoot.
I also found an interesting story by a psychologist in Alachua County on County Road 237 who saw a Bigfoot cross the road in front of her as she was taking a walk. She watched the animal go down the steep bank of a creek. I live on County Road 239 so this event took place near where I live. The woman said the being had covered himself in leaves. One of the two possible leafs he was wearing came from the sable palm. The psychologist wanted to know if anyone else had seen a Bigfoot wearing leaves, probably to camouflage himself. I know of no other such sighting.
I heard the CEO of a major oil company try to respond to the charges that his profits are "excessive" yesterday. His response was pathetic. I suggest he say that the oil companies pay three times what their profit is in taxes. Then he should ask the individual American if he would like to have to pay the government three times his disposeable income before he could have any disposeable income. Consider all the money that you spend on things not absolutely necessary to maintaining your life and your job - money for cable TV, cigarettes, alcohol, the movies, eating out, etc- and multiply that by three. That's how much you would have to give the government before you could have your disposeable income. Hopefully, you would rebel before you gave the government that much money, particularly since about forty percent of us pay no income tax. These oil company CEOs need to be more assertive and informative. Sure the
Democrats are wolves preying on the sheeple, but the sheep calls the wolf too. Buck up with the facts, ladies and gentlemen. Don't passively let the collectivists paint you as being on The Path Of Hate.
Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Tasha petted the dog who has diabetes, and the skin came off. Of course, she took her into the vet's today and learned that the dog has an infection and that her sugar level is a whopping 453. She's back on insulin, but Tasha wanted to know why the huge increase. This was the dog Tasha was curing her diabetes with a diet of pulled, boiled chicken and canned salmon. The vet said that when a dog has an infection, his sugar level will often go up. The dog was "treated" for an earlier episode of her skin sloughing by the kick-boxing champion vet, and our present vet thinks Dog never got rid of the infection. She wanted to know what the kick-boxing champion treated the infection with and was astounded when Tasha replied, "Nothing." She's started Dog on antibiotics and is confident she can eliminate the infection.
For you who remember the intelligent, even scholarly dog who was one of the three bitten by the timber rattlesnake, he is now overweight. Tasha had scheduled him for an appointment with the vet tomorrow because he was vomiting, and she feared he had heart disease just like his dead brother, Tanner. Wednesday, Tasha got very upset with his condition and was able to take him in that day. The good news is that his heart is in excellent shape. Dog's liver numbers are too high, but the vet said that could be a function of obesity. She wants Dog to lose twenty pounds, and Tasha has already brought in bags of diet dogfood. I like dogs a little heavy and think he can safely lose only ten pounds.
While Audrey watched the dogs to make sure they didn't bark a lot, I spent two hours at the church library last night looking for more information on the supposed dead bigfoot in Georgia. I read that the two men who found (or shot) the bigfoot had made a video where they showed a doctor of pathology examining the creature and announcing that he was indeed a Bigfoot. Then the video supposedly had one of the two men revealing that the doctor of pathology was really one of the two men's brother who was not a pathologist. The film also showed the men explaining that they were just trying to hype the event, and people shouldn't be so serious. Maybe we shouldn't be so serious as to think any of this is true. I tried to access the You-Tube film, but it was no longer available. If there isn't a press conference to show more pictures of the animal and his DNA analysis results, you'll know this is a scam. This would be fine with me because I'd like to be the first to "find" Bigfoot.
I also found an interesting story by a psychologist in Alachua County on County Road 237 who saw a Bigfoot cross the road in front of her as she was taking a walk. She watched the animal go down the steep bank of a creek. I live on County Road 239 so this event took place near where I live. The woman said the being had covered himself in leaves. One of the two possible leafs he was wearing came from the sable palm. The psychologist wanted to know if anyone else had seen a Bigfoot wearing leaves, probably to camouflage himself. I know of no other such sighting.
I heard the CEO of a major oil company try to respond to the charges that his profits are "excessive" yesterday. His response was pathetic. I suggest he say that the oil companies pay three times what their profit is in taxes. Then he should ask the individual American if he would like to have to pay the government three times his disposeable income before he could have any disposeable income. Consider all the money that you spend on things not absolutely necessary to maintaining your life and your job - money for cable TV, cigarettes, alcohol, the movies, eating out, etc- and multiply that by three. That's how much you would have to give the government before you could have your disposeable income. Hopefully, you would rebel before you gave the government that much money, particularly since about forty percent of us pay no income tax. These oil company CEOs need to be more assertive and informative. Sure the
Democrats are wolves preying on the sheeple, but the sheep calls the wolf too. Buck up with the facts, ladies and gentlemen. Don't passively let the collectivists paint you as being on The Path Of Hate.
Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Dead Bigfoot,Maybe, Two Black Panthers
What's better today for you? For me, it's hitting the clay pigeon with my slingshot on the third shot. Or it's hitting the pie-plate size circle exactly in the center on my last shot with the new Carbon Express arrow last night.
This morning the dog I wrote about loosing her puppies at Pet Mart was working around the side of the front deck. She was making a hole under the deck and was very excited. I figured she had seen a snake go under it so I got a cinder block and blocked the hole. Thirty minutes later, I saw that she was still working around the deck, searching for a way under it. She's a determined little dog being part heeler and part Bassett hound. She got spayed about a week ago and has been very attached to me ever since. She won't let other dogs get near me, and the other dogs do not want to argue with her because she has the heart of a lion.
I saw the news about a dead Bigfoot in Georgia on Fox News. Megyn Kelly was excited about talking to the Bigfoot researcher, Tom Biscardi ,who is supposed to be the most reputable of the researchers. I think this is the man who referred to Bill Hemmer and Megyn Kelly as Ken and Barbie when he was interviewed by them a few months ago. He was at the Catskills Mountains sight where a woman claimed to have played ball with a Bigfoot. This time, I think I heard him call Megyn, "sweetheart." Tom Biscardi claimed that a corrections officer and a policeman in Georgia had found a dead Bigfoot and had called him. Fox News showed a picture of him, and his body did not look like hair but looked like lumps of crushed velvet. Biscardi claims that he touched the creature, and he is authentic. After he gets some analysis completed, he will show the Bigfoot to the world and invited Megyn to be there. She accepted.
Next, I called Marcus Singleton who has a computer. I asked him to go online and check this story out. Almost an hour later he called back ,and said this was the same man who in August, 2005 had claimed to have videos of Bigfoot and said he would show them on his pay-per-view website. Several thousand people signed up, but the videos were never shown, and he finally admitted he had none. He is now claiming that this Bigfoot is genuine, and he will discuss the scientific analysis of his DNA from Palo Alto, California. Marcus also said that the names of the two law enforcement employees were given including the city one of them worked for as a policeman, so he is sure the legitimacy of their claim should come out soon. I thought that Biscardi was too familiar and unprofessional to be the real thing, but Marcus said I was jealous over Megyn Kelly.
I blogged about Gregg Roberts telling me about a Bigfoot sighting only about a mile from my house. He also had two black panthers he had seen to talk about: "I was driving on the same bridge I told you about the Bigfoot being seen from, and saw a black panther go across the road. It was early morning about two or three years ago. But the place I've heard about having a lot of sightings is around the Santa Fe River bridge (on State Road 121 at Worthington Springs).
"When I belonged to the Gulf Hammock Hunt Club, I saw three deer running down a dirt road. I mean, they were getting it on. Right behind them was a black panther. I wonder why the game wardens keep denying they exist." When I explained, "The Game Commission is getting millions of dollars for having an "endangered species" - about 150 panthers in southwest Florida. They don't want any more panthers recognized, especially a magnificent, shiny black color phase," it seemed to fall on deaf ears. There are none so blind as those who refuse to see.
Until we meet again, may be both walk Path Of Love, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
This morning the dog I wrote about loosing her puppies at Pet Mart was working around the side of the front deck. She was making a hole under the deck and was very excited. I figured she had seen a snake go under it so I got a cinder block and blocked the hole. Thirty minutes later, I saw that she was still working around the deck, searching for a way under it. She's a determined little dog being part heeler and part Bassett hound. She got spayed about a week ago and has been very attached to me ever since. She won't let other dogs get near me, and the other dogs do not want to argue with her because she has the heart of a lion.
I saw the news about a dead Bigfoot in Georgia on Fox News. Megyn Kelly was excited about talking to the Bigfoot researcher, Tom Biscardi ,who is supposed to be the most reputable of the researchers. I think this is the man who referred to Bill Hemmer and Megyn Kelly as Ken and Barbie when he was interviewed by them a few months ago. He was at the Catskills Mountains sight where a woman claimed to have played ball with a Bigfoot. This time, I think I heard him call Megyn, "sweetheart." Tom Biscardi claimed that a corrections officer and a policeman in Georgia had found a dead Bigfoot and had called him. Fox News showed a picture of him, and his body did not look like hair but looked like lumps of crushed velvet. Biscardi claims that he touched the creature, and he is authentic. After he gets some analysis completed, he will show the Bigfoot to the world and invited Megyn to be there. She accepted.
Next, I called Marcus Singleton who has a computer. I asked him to go online and check this story out. Almost an hour later he called back ,and said this was the same man who in August, 2005 had claimed to have videos of Bigfoot and said he would show them on his pay-per-view website. Several thousand people signed up, but the videos were never shown, and he finally admitted he had none. He is now claiming that this Bigfoot is genuine, and he will discuss the scientific analysis of his DNA from Palo Alto, California. Marcus also said that the names of the two law enforcement employees were given including the city one of them worked for as a policeman, so he is sure the legitimacy of their claim should come out soon. I thought that Biscardi was too familiar and unprofessional to be the real thing, but Marcus said I was jealous over Megyn Kelly.
I blogged about Gregg Roberts telling me about a Bigfoot sighting only about a mile from my house. He also had two black panthers he had seen to talk about: "I was driving on the same bridge I told you about the Bigfoot being seen from, and saw a black panther go across the road. It was early morning about two or three years ago. But the place I've heard about having a lot of sightings is around the Santa Fe River bridge (on State Road 121 at Worthington Springs).
"When I belonged to the Gulf Hammock Hunt Club, I saw three deer running down a dirt road. I mean, they were getting it on. Right behind them was a black panther. I wonder why the game wardens keep denying they exist." When I explained, "The Game Commission is getting millions of dollars for having an "endangered species" - about 150 panthers in southwest Florida. They don't want any more panthers recognized, especially a magnificent, shiny black color phase," it seemed to fall on deaf ears. There are none so blind as those who refuse to see.
Until we meet again, may be both walk Path Of Love, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Bigfoot With Club, Father Kidnaps Kids
What's better, my friend? For me, it's buying a Carbon Express arrow at Wal-Mart yesterday. Itr was half the price of othe stores. My son and I are planning to hunt pigs at a Game Management Area, and I can't use the aluminum arrows I have because they will bend. Earlier this year, I had worked up to good accuracy at about forty yards, but my rotator cup hurt so much that my shooting has been very spotty since then. Now, I am trying to shoot just three arrows a day and see how my shoulder holds up. Going hunting with Bobby will be a lot of fun. We are planning to use a boat to get to our destination which will be even more interesting.
I have a source in Colorado who saw a Bigfoot when he was only ten years old. He's been called crazy ever since. Here is his story: "My father and my brothers and I were on a fishing trip in western Colorado. We were on a trail in the mountains, and I had gotten about three hundred yards ahead of them. Suddenly, on a trail above me, I saw a Bigfoot going in the same direction. He had a large club over his shoulder. I ran back and told my family, but they said I was imaging things. Everyone I have told this story to has told me that I'm crazy, but I know what I saw." This man is now an outfitter and is outside constantly but has neve seen another Bigfoot.
This morning, I was feeding and watering the horses and goats when an insight suddenly hit me. It was about my parents taking in Allen Wurks, my boyhood best friend, and his three children after Allen kidnapped them from his ex-wife. Allen had married his next-door girlfriend, Beauty, a lovely, well-endowed (even at sixteen) woman. Allen's parents, especially his mother, had vehemently disapproved of the romance. After Allen graduated from the University of Richmond, he married Beauty, but his parents would not attend his wedding. I was his best man, and he was my best man at my wedding. Allen taught Spanish in a high school in central Virginia and worked a second job so Bonnie could stay at home and raise the children. All the man did was work. Beauty was active in their church, and Allen wondered why they were running into the preacher and his family on vacations and at the same hotels to boot. When Bonnie finally left him with the children, and the preacher left his wife and children, he realized what had been going on for years. He was furious, and now he and his parents were on the same page of hate toward Beauty. Allen's father, a retired Army colonel, called my father. By this time, my parents had left Virginia and were leaving in Hayden Lake, Idaho.
They concocted a plan that Allen would kidnap his kids from Beauty and come west to live with my parents until Allen could find a job and a place to live. By this time, I was Director of Social Services for the City of Williamsburg, Virginia, and an officer of the court. Everyone figured that I took my job so seriously that if I knew where Allen was, I would report it to the commonwealth attorney I worked with. They were probably right. Therefore, they decided not to tell me, and as far as I knew Allen, my best friend, had just disappeared off the face of the earth with his three children. Beauty employed a private detective but nothing happened for years. Then Allen made the mistake of applying for a house loan in Seattle, Washington. His social security number hit the computers, and that was the end. Beauty went out West with a Virginia deputy to have Allen arrested and to get her children back.
This morning, it dawned on me that if the father of Bobby's best friend came to us and wanted us to provide a refuge for his son and his three kidnapped grandchildren, Tasha and I would not do it because it would be not only illegal but wrong, and it would be lying by omission to Bobby.
I don't like to use the word "we" when referring to Tasha because that word is not in her vocabulary, but I don't think we would not have done that to Bobby. You can't have a warm, loving relationship with your son when you are hiding his best friend and his three children in your home and are not telling him about it.
Raising a child can be painful because, out of the blue, you have these insights when the way you raise your children and the relationship you had with your children are so radically different from the way you were treated by your parents. Suddenly the insight comes out of nowhere, hits you, and leaves you with an empty, weak feeling in your stomach. The strong, full realization is that you know you're not repeating the same mistakes with your children. That's what we have control over.
I have a source in Colorado who saw a Bigfoot when he was only ten years old. He's been called crazy ever since. Here is his story: "My father and my brothers and I were on a fishing trip in western Colorado. We were on a trail in the mountains, and I had gotten about three hundred yards ahead of them. Suddenly, on a trail above me, I saw a Bigfoot going in the same direction. He had a large club over his shoulder. I ran back and told my family, but they said I was imaging things. Everyone I have told this story to has told me that I'm crazy, but I know what I saw." This man is now an outfitter and is outside constantly but has neve seen another Bigfoot.
This morning, I was feeding and watering the horses and goats when an insight suddenly hit me. It was about my parents taking in Allen Wurks, my boyhood best friend, and his three children after Allen kidnapped them from his ex-wife. Allen had married his next-door girlfriend, Beauty, a lovely, well-endowed (even at sixteen) woman. Allen's parents, especially his mother, had vehemently disapproved of the romance. After Allen graduated from the University of Richmond, he married Beauty, but his parents would not attend his wedding. I was his best man, and he was my best man at my wedding. Allen taught Spanish in a high school in central Virginia and worked a second job so Bonnie could stay at home and raise the children. All the man did was work. Beauty was active in their church, and Allen wondered why they were running into the preacher and his family on vacations and at the same hotels to boot. When Bonnie finally left him with the children, and the preacher left his wife and children, he realized what had been going on for years. He was furious, and now he and his parents were on the same page of hate toward Beauty. Allen's father, a retired Army colonel, called my father. By this time, my parents had left Virginia and were leaving in Hayden Lake, Idaho.
They concocted a plan that Allen would kidnap his kids from Beauty and come west to live with my parents until Allen could find a job and a place to live. By this time, I was Director of Social Services for the City of Williamsburg, Virginia, and an officer of the court. Everyone figured that I took my job so seriously that if I knew where Allen was, I would report it to the commonwealth attorney I worked with. They were probably right. Therefore, they decided not to tell me, and as far as I knew Allen, my best friend, had just disappeared off the face of the earth with his three children. Beauty employed a private detective but nothing happened for years. Then Allen made the mistake of applying for a house loan in Seattle, Washington. His social security number hit the computers, and that was the end. Beauty went out West with a Virginia deputy to have Allen arrested and to get her children back.
This morning, it dawned on me that if the father of Bobby's best friend came to us and wanted us to provide a refuge for his son and his three kidnapped grandchildren, Tasha and I would not do it because it would be not only illegal but wrong, and it would be lying by omission to Bobby.
I don't like to use the word "we" when referring to Tasha because that word is not in her vocabulary, but I don't think we would not have done that to Bobby. You can't have a warm, loving relationship with your son when you are hiding his best friend and his three children in your home and are not telling him about it.
Raising a child can be painful because, out of the blue, you have these insights when the way you raise your children and the relationship you had with your children are so radically different from the way you were treated by your parents. Suddenly the insight comes out of nowhere, hits you, and leaves you with an empty, weak feeling in your stomach. The strong, full realization is that you know you're not repeating the same mistakes with your children. That's what we have control over.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Three Nearby Bigfoot and One in Lulu
What's bettter, friend? For me, it is a bigfoot story from a Gregg Roberts in Alachua County, Florida. I ran into him at the Bargain Barn in Worthington Springs and asked him if he had ever seen one. "No," he replied, "But my uncle who is about fifty swears he saw one when he was a boy. He was riding his bike and saw one dash across the road on the east side of the bridge over the New River on County Road 18 at Worthington Springs. He put his bike down and ran home.
His parents said it was a bear and made him go back and get his bike." Even if it were a bear, I would have accompanied my son back to the bike. This joins two other stories of Bigfoot in Worthington Springs that I have discussed in my Bigfoot blog which I will be closing to coalesce into this blog. The first one came from a young man in his twenties at the S&S store in Worthington Springs who told me his father swears that while he was on the Santa Fe River Bridge on State Road 121 in Worthington Springs, he saw a Bigfoot swimming in the river. About two hundred yards east of the bridge begins a very thick, confusing area called Thousand Runs.
There are many little creeks there that function as the Santa Fe River. When there is a lot of rain, they coalesce into one big river. There is bottomless mud in there, and people have been lost for a week in the swamp. This could possibly hold a Bigfoot.
The other story comes from an area just downstream - to the west - of the Santa Re River Bridge and was told to me by Wayne Cox, owner of C&S Sports in Lake Butler. Wayne is a five time State of Florida turkey calling champion, and he swears this is a true story too: "It was back in the eighties, and two friends and I had a few days off from school so we were going down to a lease my family had on the Sante Fe River to do some fishing. We had all our gear in my pickup truck. It had been raining recently, and the road was muddy so we parked the pickup and decided to walk down to the river to see how high it was. When we got back to the truck, we found these big feet, about 15 inchess long, coming onto the muddy road, walking over to the bed of the truck, and stepping directly into the bed from the road. He didn't use the bumper so you know he was tall to do that. He took only food out of the cooler, no gear. It scared us enough that we gave up our camping and fishing trip and went home. I only told my dad, and that was it."
The last local sighting I can think of came from Lulu, Florida, ten miles from Lake Butler where I am writing this and is on State Road 100. The hunter told me, "I was hunting with a buddy in some really thick stuff. We heard this growling and smelled something awful. All we had were muzzle-loaders. I told him, "Let's get out of here. He didn't object either." We left."
I regret that I didn't get everyone's name for these stories. I'm a slow study, but now I am much better at remembering to ask people.
May both of us walk The Path Of Love the best we can until we meet again. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
His parents said it was a bear and made him go back and get his bike." Even if it were a bear, I would have accompanied my son back to the bike. This joins two other stories of Bigfoot in Worthington Springs that I have discussed in my Bigfoot blog which I will be closing to coalesce into this blog. The first one came from a young man in his twenties at the S&S store in Worthington Springs who told me his father swears that while he was on the Santa Fe River Bridge on State Road 121 in Worthington Springs, he saw a Bigfoot swimming in the river. About two hundred yards east of the bridge begins a very thick, confusing area called Thousand Runs.
There are many little creeks there that function as the Santa Fe River. When there is a lot of rain, they coalesce into one big river. There is bottomless mud in there, and people have been lost for a week in the swamp. This could possibly hold a Bigfoot.
The other story comes from an area just downstream - to the west - of the Santa Re River Bridge and was told to me by Wayne Cox, owner of C&S Sports in Lake Butler. Wayne is a five time State of Florida turkey calling champion, and he swears this is a true story too: "It was back in the eighties, and two friends and I had a few days off from school so we were going down to a lease my family had on the Sante Fe River to do some fishing. We had all our gear in my pickup truck. It had been raining recently, and the road was muddy so we parked the pickup and decided to walk down to the river to see how high it was. When we got back to the truck, we found these big feet, about 15 inchess long, coming onto the muddy road, walking over to the bed of the truck, and stepping directly into the bed from the road. He didn't use the bumper so you know he was tall to do that. He took only food out of the cooler, no gear. It scared us enough that we gave up our camping and fishing trip and went home. I only told my dad, and that was it."
The last local sighting I can think of came from Lulu, Florida, ten miles from Lake Butler where I am writing this and is on State Road 100. The hunter told me, "I was hunting with a buddy in some really thick stuff. We heard this growling and smelled something awful. All we had were muzzle-loaders. I told him, "Let's get out of here. He didn't object either." We left."
I regret that I didn't get everyone's name for these stories. I'm a slow study, but now I am much better at remembering to ask people.
May both of us walk The Path Of Love the best we can until we meet again. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Debate With Tasha, Mrs. John Edwards
What's better with you, my friend? I am trying to be a little more assertive with Tasha instead of just going along to get along. I think I am getting cognitive dissonance with being so emphatic here and then going home and being a doormat just to keep the peace. Plus, being a doormat at home hinders me being assertive here and elsewhere. It's not just assertiveness; it's the the whole process of critical thinking and expression. On the other hand, if you have someone with a very large ego, is there room for anyone else's ego? Everything is finite and if someone's ego fills up the dimensions, how can you expect your ego to be very large? They say that a man marries his father, and Tasha is very much like my father. Both are authoritarian, and it is my way or the highway for both. When I was growing up, I decided that if I challenged my father, my life would be pure hell, and I would be too angry and generally upset to study. As a young boy, I had decided I wanted to go to college, and as I was not brilliant, I knew I needed good grades and extracurricular actvities to get into college. Those things took time and concentration, and I knew I would have neither if I were constantly at war with my father. My sister turned herself in at a police station, saying, "Home is hell, and I'm not going back there." Now Sarah was my father's little "princess," and he quickly got one of the best lawyers in the city ( the man went on to become the mayor) and smoothed everything over with the police and took Sarah home. I did not think he would do that for me since he used the threat of reform school constantly. I knew very few, if any, people graduated from reform school and went to college. So I acquiesced to my father's eccentricities, stayed at school as late as I could each weekday, taking the activities bus home, eating dinner alone, and generally trying to stay out of his way. However, I paid a big price for that because I'm afraid I shaped my personality to be avoidant, passive, fearful, and I internalized all my emotions. These emotions grew and grew until they had to come out, much like a volcano must finally explode, and they came out in the form of fears which have stayed with me all my life, once they became hard-wired. For sure, what's better today is I blew a little steam off by debating Tasha instead of silently, passively taking it all in.
Why the self-revelation today? It may be that it's time because I'm that sort of guy, and it may be also because of John Edwards' admission of his adultery and lying to the American people . Let's talk about the Edwards brieflly: What galls me is that Mrs. Edwards stood by John's side, literally, as he denied his affair. Why couldn't she differentiate herself from him? Let him answer those questions alone. Why couldn't she just walk away when those questions came up? Didn't he differentiate himself from her when he went to bed with another woman? Is she so addicted to his wealth, prestige, and power that she will do anything? This is a woman dealing with a possible death sentence through cancer. Shouldn't she be at a higher level of spirituality than crass John? She was lying to the American people too - lying by omission. It is said that women love their nests, and men love their conquests. It seems to be very true, particularly with politicians.
Have you heard that when "Clark Rockefeller" kidnapped his daughter on a supervised visit that the attending social worker grabbed the door handle of his vehicle and held on to it for a ways while she was dragged down the street?That social worker deserves a medal.
What about this doctor of chemistry who is supposedly responsible for the anthrax letter that killed several people? His social worker therapist said he was a psychopath. Succintly, a psychopath is one who has no conscience. It would be interesting to know if he was already one when he got the job or did the what he did on his job -torture animals with anthrax - make him a psychopath. Let's see.. the precursors of being an adult psychopath are bedwetting, starting fires, and torturing animals when you are a child. History is prelude.
I hope you will excuse any errors today. I was a little upset by my debate with Tasha and forgot my glasses. The keyboard and screen are a little blurry. Until we meet again, my friend, let us both walk The Path Of Love and find the wind in our backs. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Why the self-revelation today? It may be that it's time because I'm that sort of guy, and it may be also because of John Edwards' admission of his adultery and lying to the American people . Let's talk about the Edwards brieflly: What galls me is that Mrs. Edwards stood by John's side, literally, as he denied his affair. Why couldn't she differentiate herself from him? Let him answer those questions alone. Why couldn't she just walk away when those questions came up? Didn't he differentiate himself from her when he went to bed with another woman? Is she so addicted to his wealth, prestige, and power that she will do anything? This is a woman dealing with a possible death sentence through cancer. Shouldn't she be at a higher level of spirituality than crass John? She was lying to the American people too - lying by omission. It is said that women love their nests, and men love their conquests. It seems to be very true, particularly with politicians.
Have you heard that when "Clark Rockefeller" kidnapped his daughter on a supervised visit that the attending social worker grabbed the door handle of his vehicle and held on to it for a ways while she was dragged down the street?That social worker deserves a medal.
What about this doctor of chemistry who is supposedly responsible for the anthrax letter that killed several people? His social worker therapist said he was a psychopath. Succintly, a psychopath is one who has no conscience. It would be interesting to know if he was already one when he got the job or did the what he did on his job -torture animals with anthrax - make him a psychopath. Let's see.. the precursors of being an adult psychopath are bedwetting, starting fires, and torturing animals when you are a child. History is prelude.
I hope you will excuse any errors today. I was a little upset by my debate with Tasha and forgot my glasses. The keyboard and screen are a little blurry. Until we meet again, my friend, let us both walk The Path Of Love and find the wind in our backs. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Is Shale Oil For Real?
America supposedly has 3.75 times more oil than Saudi Arabia supposedly has. America has one trillion barrels of oil available, according to the Rand Foundation, a liberal think group. The Green River Formation in the West has enough shale oil to meet 25 percent of America's demand for 400 years. But already, U.S. Representative Mark Udall, a Democrat, is saying shale production should be "on a gentler, and more substantial route" (Reese Epstein, "Drilling For Oil Is Still Practical," p. B-5, The Times Union (Jacksonville), 8.5.08." Udall's vague, lofty words translate for me to this, "I want the government to restrict the availability of oil to Americans."
Why would a Democrat say that? I answer that Democrats want to restrict the freedom of Americans to drive, to move about as they wish. It offends Democrats to see 280 million people moving about as they wish and can afford. That's too much freedom going on. Denying people freedom is hateful, and the Democrats are on the path of hate in general with their energy plan, particularly the part that forbids offshore drilling. But as you, my friend, resist the Democrats plan to wreck this economy with high oil prices and consequent high prices in almost everything else, your resistance is being picked up in the polls and the calls to your federal representatives. What the Democrats want above all is power, power to run your life, and therefore they are quietly telling those Democrat politicians who are up for election that they can say they support offshore drilling. Even Obama has come down from the clouds momentarily to say he would allow offshore drilling if it were part of a comprehensive energy bill. But here he goes again.
Flip-flopping. Is Obama making new decisions as he matures and times change or is he basically dishonest? I think there has been too much changing for it to be honest. Obama is dishonest, and McCain is the better choice. If more Americans realize this, and Obama starts dropping in the polls, you are going to see Hillary Clinton try to get the presidential nomination at the Democratic convention. If that happens, it will be a very historic event for the Clintons, as g
ood Democrats, worship power and will do anything to get it.
To return to shale oil, it appears that there is potentially plenty of it. President
Bush says we have 800 billion gallons of it, but my understanding is that we do not have the technology developed yet that will alow us to use it. It is still too expensive to process it. Texaco is going underground with heated rods and extracting some now. But it could be 2015 before shale oil is practical for everyday use.
Until the next meeting, may you walk with love, not hate, and with the wind in your back. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Why would a Democrat say that? I answer that Democrats want to restrict the freedom of Americans to drive, to move about as they wish. It offends Democrats to see 280 million people moving about as they wish and can afford. That's too much freedom going on. Denying people freedom is hateful, and the Democrats are on the path of hate in general with their energy plan, particularly the part that forbids offshore drilling. But as you, my friend, resist the Democrats plan to wreck this economy with high oil prices and consequent high prices in almost everything else, your resistance is being picked up in the polls and the calls to your federal representatives. What the Democrats want above all is power, power to run your life, and therefore they are quietly telling those Democrat politicians who are up for election that they can say they support offshore drilling. Even Obama has come down from the clouds momentarily to say he would allow offshore drilling if it were part of a comprehensive energy bill. But here he goes again.
Flip-flopping. Is Obama making new decisions as he matures and times change or is he basically dishonest? I think there has been too much changing for it to be honest. Obama is dishonest, and McCain is the better choice. If more Americans realize this, and Obama starts dropping in the polls, you are going to see Hillary Clinton try to get the presidential nomination at the Democratic convention. If that happens, it will be a very historic event for the Clintons, as g
ood Democrats, worship power and will do anything to get it.
To return to shale oil, it appears that there is potentially plenty of it. President
Bush says we have 800 billion gallons of it, but my understanding is that we do not have the technology developed yet that will alow us to use it. It is still too expensive to process it. Texaco is going underground with heated rods and extracting some now. But it could be 2015 before shale oil is practical for everyday use.
Until the next meeting, may you walk with love, not hate, and with the wind in your back. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Oil Profits, Killing Panthers
Obama is a collectivist, not an individualist. He does not recognize the sanctity of the individual.
That is you, my friend. You don't exist for him. What exists are his preferred groups, and he recognizes the appetites of his preferred groups and tries to feed them to curry favor. For example, he wants to take the oil profits that will go to shareholders as dividends. Shareholders are a non-preferred group for Obama because shareholders are capitalists, and he is a communist (to each according to his need and from each according to his ability). He wants to take the dividends that would go to shareholders and give them as a $1,000 grant to each "middle-class" family. That is his preferred group, at the moment. Taking money is wrong even if you go to Congress and get a law passed giving you that authority to do it. Taking money is stealing even if it is legal. Stealing is an act of hate (You certainly couldn't call it an act of love). Once again, Obama is walking on The Path Of Hate in his $500 shoes. If Obama were really worried worried about poverty, he'd been wearing Florsheins and contributing the other $400 to charity. But he wants to give away your money, not his. Don't give him that power. Walk The Path Of Love with Barack Obama by telling him he is morally wrong. Do that by voting for John McCain.
I have called one of my senators today and told the staff person that I wanted Senator Mel Martinez back in Washington, voting yes to a drilling in America bill. We have the oil, and it is hateful of the Democrats to block the passage of such a bill when prices are so high and people are loosing their jobs because of the effects of high energy costs. I tried to call Senator Bill Nelson, b ut had the wrong number. My congressman, Cliff Stearns, a Republican, has apparently already returned to Washington, and is ready to vote for American drilling to help Americans and keep some of that 700 billion dollars we send to the Middle East in America.
About six months ago, I read a book about panthers in the Patagonia. It told about native gauchos on horseback running down panthers in about 100 to 300 yards. The panther or puma is a dasher, not a runner. He has small lungs but great muscles. When the animal was too exhausted to run, the author stated that the gauchos would kill them with their stirrup irons. Though Tasha and I have two beautiful horses, we are not equestrians. There is simply not enough money for saddles and a horse trailer though I would love to use a horse to hunt for the black panther and Bigfoot. You could see a lot more in the jungle-woods sitting up high. Both horses are rescued and are now in great shape.
I have asked several equestrians about stirrup irons, and the best answer I've received (I think)is that it refers to the piece of iron at the end of the stirrup that you put your foot into when you mount the horse. It is supposedly easily detached and could be used to beat to death the exhausted, timid panther. Overall, panthers are very timid of human beings. You see what happens to timid creatures, my friend. Don't be timid and wait until you've lost your home or job. Call your congressman and your senators now and tell them to start drilling. You'll get a boost of energy and be doing the right thing.
Until the next meeting, may you walk with love, not hate. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
That is you, my friend. You don't exist for him. What exists are his preferred groups, and he recognizes the appetites of his preferred groups and tries to feed them to curry favor. For example, he wants to take the oil profits that will go to shareholders as dividends. Shareholders are a non-preferred group for Obama because shareholders are capitalists, and he is a communist (to each according to his need and from each according to his ability). He wants to take the dividends that would go to shareholders and give them as a $1,000 grant to each "middle-class" family. That is his preferred group, at the moment. Taking money is wrong even if you go to Congress and get a law passed giving you that authority to do it. Taking money is stealing even if it is legal. Stealing is an act of hate (You certainly couldn't call it an act of love). Once again, Obama is walking on The Path Of Hate in his $500 shoes. If Obama were really worried worried about poverty, he'd been wearing Florsheins and contributing the other $400 to charity. But he wants to give away your money, not his. Don't give him that power. Walk The Path Of Love with Barack Obama by telling him he is morally wrong. Do that by voting for John McCain.
I have called one of my senators today and told the staff person that I wanted Senator Mel Martinez back in Washington, voting yes to a drilling in America bill. We have the oil, and it is hateful of the Democrats to block the passage of such a bill when prices are so high and people are loosing their jobs because of the effects of high energy costs. I tried to call Senator Bill Nelson, b ut had the wrong number. My congressman, Cliff Stearns, a Republican, has apparently already returned to Washington, and is ready to vote for American drilling to help Americans and keep some of that 700 billion dollars we send to the Middle East in America.
About six months ago, I read a book about panthers in the Patagonia. It told about native gauchos on horseback running down panthers in about 100 to 300 yards. The panther or puma is a dasher, not a runner. He has small lungs but great muscles. When the animal was too exhausted to run, the author stated that the gauchos would kill them with their stirrup irons. Though Tasha and I have two beautiful horses, we are not equestrians. There is simply not enough money for saddles and a horse trailer though I would love to use a horse to hunt for the black panther and Bigfoot. You could see a lot more in the jungle-woods sitting up high. Both horses are rescued and are now in great shape.
I have asked several equestrians about stirrup irons, and the best answer I've received (I think)is that it refers to the piece of iron at the end of the stirrup that you put your foot into when you mount the horse. It is supposedly easily detached and could be used to beat to death the exhausted, timid panther. Overall, panthers are very timid of human beings. You see what happens to timid creatures, my friend. Don't be timid and wait until you've lost your home or job. Call your congressman and your senators now and tell them to start drilling. You'll get a boost of energy and be doing the right thing.
Until the next meeting, may you walk with love, not hate. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Brownie and Audrey
On the way to the library this morning, Audrey and I passed a German shepherd's body. He had been killed by a vehicle, and his head was decapitated. I have never seen that before and hope I don't again. I immediately flashed back to Brownie, my chocolate lab, still a young dog not even a year old, who was killed on the paved road up at the head of our lane. I had all the puppies in that fenced-in backyard, but I forgot that I had not put a fence on the ground along the sides of the fence so they could not dig their way out. The puppies were so young that there was no chance that they could dig their way out before I could find the hole. But one night, we had a female dog come into heat, and the puppies' father, Bear, went into rut and began barking incessantly in the front yard where the female was. I got out of bed and sleepily put him into the backyard pen with his puppies. Then I went back to bed and woke up around 1 a.m. when I heard dogs barking. I hurried outside and found Bear with a contingent of puppies down at the pond, a dangerous place to be because of cottonmouths. I took them back to the pen and saw that Bear had dug his way under the fence trying to get to the female in heat, and the puppies had followed him out. But not all the puppies were accounted for. Fearing the worst, I hurried up to the paved road and found Chockie sitting in shock on the edge of the road. My beloved Brownie was splattered 17 yards up the road from the impact of the truck. I found the tire marks, and the driver had locked up, making a heroic efforts to avoid the labs but couldn't. I was very close to Brownie, and it was reciprocated. Whenever I went outside to check on the puppies, Brownie would always get up and come to me. Even if I checked on them in the middle of the night, the rest of the puppies would remain lying on the ground, but Brownie would come to me. I dug his grave, but could not make myself bury him. I did not want to give him up, and did so only when the maggots appeared on him.
Now that I've talked about the young and the tragic, I will weigh in with something about the old and the positive. When Audrey picks me up for the trip into town, I have started asking her,
What's better?" I think this is important because older people often get into a morose rut. At first, Audrey would not even say anything, but I would go ahead and say what was better with me. I kept asking her, and then she came around to saying, "Nothing." I kept at it until now she had something that's better every day and is now asking me, "What's better?" It makes for a much brighter ambience in the car. I also asked her if she would like to build up her strength and posture. Since she was willing and quickly found some dumbbells, I had her begin with one set of 10 dumbbell bicep curls. She's now doing two sets. We washed some cleaning rags at the laundromat Monday, and I noticed how she was throwing the bags of wet rags around. She must have noticed me looking for she said, "I feel so much stronger in my arms and back of my legs now that I'm lifting those dumbbells." As long as you're alive, it's never too late to make things better.
Until we rendezvous, may it be The Path Of Love for you with the wind in your back, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Now that I've talked about the young and the tragic, I will weigh in with something about the old and the positive. When Audrey picks me up for the trip into town, I have started asking her,
What's better?" I think this is important because older people often get into a morose rut. At first, Audrey would not even say anything, but I would go ahead and say what was better with me. I kept asking her, and then she came around to saying, "Nothing." I kept at it until now she had something that's better every day and is now asking me, "What's better?" It makes for a much brighter ambience in the car. I also asked her if she would like to build up her strength and posture. Since she was willing and quickly found some dumbbells, I had her begin with one set of 10 dumbbell bicep curls. She's now doing two sets. We washed some cleaning rags at the laundromat Monday, and I noticed how she was throwing the bags of wet rags around. She must have noticed me looking for she said, "I feel so much stronger in my arms and back of my legs now that I'm lifting those dumbbells." As long as you're alive, it's never too late to make things better.
Until we rendezvous, may it be The Path Of Love for you with the wind in your back, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Hunter's Thongs, Diabetes Cure
One of Audrey's friends is an eigthy-three year old woman, Susie Smith, who runs a thrift ship here in Worthington Springs (Florida). Two years ago during hunting season, a man in hunting clothes came into Susie's shop and bought some women's panties. He told her, "I wear them. They feel good."Now hunting in Florida's jungle-woods is for macho hunters because there are rattlesnakes, cottonmouths, alligators, bears, panthers, quick mud, and even bigfoot to contend with. Plus the oppressive heat and humidity. It is difficult to visualize a male hunter wearing women's panties anywhere but especially in the dangerous jungle-woods of Florida. There are even reports of cobras, kraits, and pythons being seen in the Everglades and as far north as Live Oak City. Once this gentleman made his purchase of panties and asked Susie, " I particularly like to wear thongs; what kind of panties do you wear?"
Susie replied, "I don't think you should be talking to me like that." Later, she bought a can of pepper spray. The last time she saw him she was busy with some other customers. He selected some panties, put money down, and left without a word. This morning, the old TV was on the fritz so I listened to a local radio station as I had my cup of coffee. When the news came on, the commentator told about a man in Gainesville (about twenty miles away) being caught for stealing four women's panties. I wonder if he could be Susie's hunter.
I phoned Gloria this morning about the miraculous diet Hunk and his brother were on. Gloria is a registered nurse (R.N.) though she no longer has to be employed. An inheritance from her late father who owned a large ranch in south Florida finally came through. Gloria said that the doctor's name is Young, a M.D. and he is in Petersburg (Florida). He's had his own practice for about six months, but had been doing this work in another practice with other doctors. When Hunk went to Dr. Young, his blood sugar level was 400. In the first seventy-two hours of being on the diet, Hunk's level fell to 130. Gloria said, "The regimen is 99 percent diet. Hunk does take some drops to provide oxygen to the individual cells, and he takes Lugols iodine to repair the hardening of the arteries and othe damage to the arteries. Hunk has been able to come off his insulin- he was taking 30 units twice a day- and his blood pressure pills. His blood sugar level is now 65 to 95. The cardinal rule to this regimen is not having any carbohydrates becuase for diabetics, carbohydrates turn into sugar. It is very frustrating to me that Dr. Young is getting no publicity about this. He's curing diabetes, and it's very simple. He's got people flying in to be treated. The drug companies are squashing all news of it because there's no money in it for them."
Gloria could be right: I've seen how the existing power structure has kept the black color variety of the panther unknown to most people and out of the field guides. Also, the drug companies would lose money if everyone came off insulin because they were no longer diabetic.
Gloria says Dr. Young does have literature about his treatment. I could not get his first name but there can't be too many Youngs, M.Ds. in the phone book.
Until we meet again, may you walk The Path Of Love with the wind in your back, my friend.
Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Susie replied, "I don't think you should be talking to me like that." Later, she bought a can of pepper spray. The last time she saw him she was busy with some other customers. He selected some panties, put money down, and left without a word. This morning, the old TV was on the fritz so I listened to a local radio station as I had my cup of coffee. When the news came on, the commentator told about a man in Gainesville (about twenty miles away) being caught for stealing four women's panties. I wonder if he could be Susie's hunter.
I phoned Gloria this morning about the miraculous diet Hunk and his brother were on. Gloria is a registered nurse (R.N.) though she no longer has to be employed. An inheritance from her late father who owned a large ranch in south Florida finally came through. Gloria said that the doctor's name is Young, a M.D. and he is in Petersburg (Florida). He's had his own practice for about six months, but had been doing this work in another practice with other doctors. When Hunk went to Dr. Young, his blood sugar level was 400. In the first seventy-two hours of being on the diet, Hunk's level fell to 130. Gloria said, "The regimen is 99 percent diet. Hunk does take some drops to provide oxygen to the individual cells, and he takes Lugols iodine to repair the hardening of the arteries and othe damage to the arteries. Hunk has been able to come off his insulin- he was taking 30 units twice a day- and his blood pressure pills. His blood sugar level is now 65 to 95. The cardinal rule to this regimen is not having any carbohydrates becuase for diabetics, carbohydrates turn into sugar. It is very frustrating to me that Dr. Young is getting no publicity about this. He's curing diabetes, and it's very simple. He's got people flying in to be treated. The drug companies are squashing all news of it because there's no money in it for them."
Gloria could be right: I've seen how the existing power structure has kept the black color variety of the panther unknown to most people and out of the field guides. Also, the drug companies would lose money if everyone came off insulin because they were no longer diabetic.
Gloria says Dr. Young does have literature about his treatment. I could not get his first name but there can't be too many Youngs, M.Ds. in the phone book.
Until we meet again, may you walk The Path Of Love with the wind in your back, my friend.
Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Obama and Diabetes Cure
I heard this morning on Fox News that the Rasmussen Poll has McCain one point ahead of Obama. McCain's campaign is getting some fire in its belly with the Paris Hilton-Obama advertisment. Have you heard Neal Boortz's, a major radio talk show host, take on why the Democrats are against drilling for oil in America? He says they believe Americans will blame Bush and by association McCain for the high cost of gasoline. Therefore, they don't want to do anything that will lower the cost of gasoline until Obama is in the White House. So Americans can suffer, not have enough money to pay their bills, operate their vehicles, and buy groceries, but that's okay with the Democrats because they think it will get Obama elected. If this is true, it puts the Democrats squarely on The Path Of Hate. Don't vote for Democrats: vote for Republicans, especially John McCain.
Tasha's good friend, Gloria, and her husband, the Hunk, called me twice about a black panther being in the lage front yard of a home about six miles away from me. Both times, I got into the F-150 and roared over to the house. No cat. Then their son, Gator, called me and played the same trick on me one night. Like a complete naif, I roared over to the house. But that wasn't the end of my stupidity for Hunk told me that he had seen pictures a waitress' husband had taken of a black panther on the wall of a truck stop on the Georgia-Tennessee border. He also told me that while he was at the truck stop, he heard a local talking about his buddy and him going fishing, catching a stringer of fish, but having their walk back to their truck blocked by a hungry black panther. They had to share their catch with him to get past him. Hearing this, I withdrew $200 from the bank and took off for the Tennessee border. I spent two days in Georgia and, of course, found no black panther pictures. When I told Hunk about my unsuccessful hunt, he said, "I'll get them for you." He didn't.
Now Gloria and Hunk have told Tasha a fantastic story about Hunk's brother in Tampa. This brother has diabetes, the story goes, and has recently begun a measured high protein diet at the direction of his doctor. Now he no longer has to take insulin. I concluded this was probably just another tall tale, but Tasha started our dog who had diabetes and is almost blind from it on a diet of chicken pulled from boiled chicken quarters and canned salmon. Saturday, she called me from the vet's to report that the dog's blood sugar level had gone from the previous reading of 354 to 78. Tasha is hoping that she can start reducing the dog's doseage of insulin soon. I've been asking Tasha to get the name of this doctor so I can try to research this topic for my mother and this blog.
Until the next rendezvous, may you be on The Path Of Love with the wind in your back, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Tasha's good friend, Gloria, and her husband, the Hunk, called me twice about a black panther being in the lage front yard of a home about six miles away from me. Both times, I got into the F-150 and roared over to the house. No cat. Then their son, Gator, called me and played the same trick on me one night. Like a complete naif, I roared over to the house. But that wasn't the end of my stupidity for Hunk told me that he had seen pictures a waitress' husband had taken of a black panther on the wall of a truck stop on the Georgia-Tennessee border. He also told me that while he was at the truck stop, he heard a local talking about his buddy and him going fishing, catching a stringer of fish, but having their walk back to their truck blocked by a hungry black panther. They had to share their catch with him to get past him. Hearing this, I withdrew $200 from the bank and took off for the Tennessee border. I spent two days in Georgia and, of course, found no black panther pictures. When I told Hunk about my unsuccessful hunt, he said, "I'll get them for you." He didn't.
Now Gloria and Hunk have told Tasha a fantastic story about Hunk's brother in Tampa. This brother has diabetes, the story goes, and has recently begun a measured high protein diet at the direction of his doctor. Now he no longer has to take insulin. I concluded this was probably just another tall tale, but Tasha started our dog who had diabetes and is almost blind from it on a diet of chicken pulled from boiled chicken quarters and canned salmon. Saturday, she called me from the vet's to report that the dog's blood sugar level had gone from the previous reading of 354 to 78. Tasha is hoping that she can start reducing the dog's doseage of insulin soon. I've been asking Tasha to get the name of this doctor so I can try to research this topic for my mother and this blog.
Until the next rendezvous, may you be on The Path Of Love with the wind in your back, my friend. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Obama, Panthers, and Bigfoot
Just minutes ago, I talked to Randy Anderson at the farmers' market in Lake Butler (Florida) where he was selling his vegetables. He had never seen a bigfoot nor had any of his friends, that he knew of. But he had seen a brown panther, darker than cinnamon. " I saw a sow and her cub," he said. "They were in a cow field, north of Raiford, near Turkey Creek. This was about two, three years ago. My nephew had them coming by his house in a hay field, and he took pictures of them. But he's moved, and I don't even know where he is."
Did you see any of Obama's press conference at Cape Canaveral, Florida, this morning?Let me paraphrase what he said, especially since Obama's way of talking is very windy and up in the clouds. He said, "John McCain is using negative campaigning against me, and that's very cynical."
A reporter then asked, "But what about your negative campaigning, like when you called McCain a Bush clone?"
Obama replied, "I was just telling the facts."
So if Obama calls someone a name, it's a fact, but if anyone calls him a name, it's negative campaigning and cynical. This is very arrogant and narcissistic. Arrogance and narcissism are part of The Path Of Hate. Obama then is on the Path Of Hate. Vote John McCain who showed great love for his fellow prisoners by refusing to be released from the Hanoi Hilton before those who had been there longer than he were released. John McCain leaves footprints on the Path OfLove.
I have a sequel to the story about Kando and his dead golden retriever: When he got to his office, he showed Tasha a hard copy of the letter he sent the vet whose negligence caused his beloved dog to die of infection. Tasha said, "He wrote the vet that he held her responsible for his dog's death, would no longer be using her services, and would not refer anyone to her. That's a shame because he knows everyone."
Kando is very helpful and likeable. He's a man who will help you move. That says a lot.
There is also a sequel to the baby abuse story: After the visit by the very strange social worker, the grandmother began calling around trying to find out who made the call to child protective services. She said the social worker took pictures of the baby and said the people who claimed he was being abused were crazy. He also supposedly said that he would help them with their bills and help them with the baby. I told Audrey that if he really said that, the grandmother should be calling around trying to find out who reported her so she could thank him. She had been complaining that she had no money to buy baby food so Audrey was doing it.
Wednesday morning, I saw a teaser on Fox News about a bigfoot sighting in Canada. I knew it would be a while before the commentators got to it so I drank coffee, then made my tofu milkshake, and waited. Finally Megyn Kelly and Bill Hemmer came to the topic, saying that a mother and her daughter were picking blueberries when they saw the bigfoot. They had considered running after him but didn't. Later that day, I got to the library and tried to find out more. The event took place in northwestern Ontario, and a party of friends and relatives came to look for bigfoot after the blueberry pickers saw him. The two blueberry pickers said he was slender, and the party found one track that showed six toes, with the big toe about as big as wide as three adult human fingers. The track was 38 centimeters long which is less than 15 inches.
About a month ago, Megyn and Bill covered the news that a woman in the Catskill Mountains of New York claimed to have just tossed a ball to a bigfoot and had the bigfoot toss it back. A well-known bigfoot researcher was at the scene, and they were going to interview him. Megyn said, " I love that guy." But when the bigfoot hunter was interviewed by them, he got very flip, calling Megyn and Bill "Barbie and Ken." He had nothing to report and did not come across a very professional. Professionalism, I hope, will be my strong suit.
May you walk The Path Of Love and have the wind in your back. For pictures of black panthers, go to peternickerson.com. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Did you see any of Obama's press conference at Cape Canaveral, Florida, this morning?Let me paraphrase what he said, especially since Obama's way of talking is very windy and up in the clouds. He said, "John McCain is using negative campaigning against me, and that's very cynical."
A reporter then asked, "But what about your negative campaigning, like when you called McCain a Bush clone?"
Obama replied, "I was just telling the facts."
So if Obama calls someone a name, it's a fact, but if anyone calls him a name, it's negative campaigning and cynical. This is very arrogant and narcissistic. Arrogance and narcissism are part of The Path Of Hate. Obama then is on the Path Of Hate. Vote John McCain who showed great love for his fellow prisoners by refusing to be released from the Hanoi Hilton before those who had been there longer than he were released. John McCain leaves footprints on the Path OfLove.
I have a sequel to the story about Kando and his dead golden retriever: When he got to his office, he showed Tasha a hard copy of the letter he sent the vet whose negligence caused his beloved dog to die of infection. Tasha said, "He wrote the vet that he held her responsible for his dog's death, would no longer be using her services, and would not refer anyone to her. That's a shame because he knows everyone."
Kando is very helpful and likeable. He's a man who will help you move. That says a lot.
There is also a sequel to the baby abuse story: After the visit by the very strange social worker, the grandmother began calling around trying to find out who made the call to child protective services. She said the social worker took pictures of the baby and said the people who claimed he was being abused were crazy. He also supposedly said that he would help them with their bills and help them with the baby. I told Audrey that if he really said that, the grandmother should be calling around trying to find out who reported her so she could thank him. She had been complaining that she had no money to buy baby food so Audrey was doing it.
Wednesday morning, I saw a teaser on Fox News about a bigfoot sighting in Canada. I knew it would be a while before the commentators got to it so I drank coffee, then made my tofu milkshake, and waited. Finally Megyn Kelly and Bill Hemmer came to the topic, saying that a mother and her daughter were picking blueberries when they saw the bigfoot. They had considered running after him but didn't. Later that day, I got to the library and tried to find out more. The event took place in northwestern Ontario, and a party of friends and relatives came to look for bigfoot after the blueberry pickers saw him. The two blueberry pickers said he was slender, and the party found one track that showed six toes, with the big toe about as big as wide as three adult human fingers. The track was 38 centimeters long which is less than 15 inches.
About a month ago, Megyn and Bill covered the news that a woman in the Catskill Mountains of New York claimed to have just tossed a ball to a bigfoot and had the bigfoot toss it back. A well-known bigfoot researcher was at the scene, and they were going to interview him. Megyn said, " I love that guy." But when the bigfoot hunter was interviewed by them, he got very flip, calling Megyn and Bill "Barbie and Ken." He had nothing to report and did not come across a very professional. Professionalism, I hope, will be my strong suit.
May you walk The Path Of Love and have the wind in your back. For pictures of black panthers, go to peternickerson.com. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Friday, August 1, 2008
An Abused Baby
First, let's finish the story of the Seal's dog. Kando explained to Tasha, "I could not do anything at that particular moment."
"Why not?" she asked. 'Is that your Navy Seal side of you, the one I am not to ever see?"
"Exactly."
"Why? Would you have killed her?"
"No, but I would have reached out and touched somebody."
Tasha, always the sharp one, replied, "Kando, she's a kickboxing champion! Have at it!"
Now I have a bizzare story: I called the Florida child abuse hotline because Audrey had told me about a fourteen month old baby whose grandparents supposedly are not feeding him baby food because they cannot afford it, and the baby is having diarrhea and breaking out in a rash. I had urged Audrey to call social services. When she told me yesterday, that she had visited the baby and found that grandmother had a belt she said she used to "discipline" the fourteen month old baby, I decided I would not wait for Audrey to call. I called and got a very professional person called Valerie. In about two hours, the investigator called me, and this is where it got bizarre. He had a whiney voice and asked me twice, back to back, if I had seen any injuries on the baby. Each time I replied no and then said. "Let's do a good job on this. I'm a former social services director, and I will be writing about this on my blog.
Let me say again that unless I specified, these quotes are all paraphrases not exact quotes. The social worker said, "I don't care about your blog."
"That's very disrespectful."
"Do you have an emotional problem?"
"Do you have an emotional problem," I shot back.
He laughed harshly. Bingo! "There you go, being disrespectful again," I added.
Swords drawn, I answered the rest of his questions and hanged up.
It was time to pick up Audrey for our shopping trip, so I called the child abuse hotline back and asked to speak to Valerie, the nice social worker. First I got a Donna who put me through to a gentleman who answered my call and referred me to Client Relations when I told him what was going on. By luck, I got Donna whom I had already talked to when I was trying to find Valerie. I relayed the above conversation to her and explained, "Look, I wanted to write a positive story about this on my blog, but I go where the truth takes me. When I came here eleven years ago, I got the idea that you all were getting a bad deal, and needed better pay and more social workers."
"Well, thank you, but we can't have people talking to you like that either. It sounds like he needs a course in customer relations."
Next time, I will reply, "He needs more than that."
I gave her my blog's address, and hanged up.
Then Audrey said, "He talked to me weird too. He said, 'Do you know Pete Nickerson?
I said, 'Yes." Then he said, 'Does he have a mental problem?' and I told him, 'Definitely not."
Exasperated, I replied, "Audrey, why didn't you tell me this while I was talking to Donna?"
I called Donna back, gave the phone to Audrey, and she related the above. Donna has said she will call me back, so we'll see what happens with both the abused baby and the strange social worker. My initial diagnosis is first that the social work is very strange, and second, he didn't like my deep, masculine, authoritative voice. Underscore "masculine." Get the message? Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
"Why not?" she asked. 'Is that your Navy Seal side of you, the one I am not to ever see?"
"Exactly."
"Why? Would you have killed her?"
"No, but I would have reached out and touched somebody."
Tasha, always the sharp one, replied, "Kando, she's a kickboxing champion! Have at it!"
Now I have a bizzare story: I called the Florida child abuse hotline because Audrey had told me about a fourteen month old baby whose grandparents supposedly are not feeding him baby food because they cannot afford it, and the baby is having diarrhea and breaking out in a rash. I had urged Audrey to call social services. When she told me yesterday, that she had visited the baby and found that grandmother had a belt she said she used to "discipline" the fourteen month old baby, I decided I would not wait for Audrey to call. I called and got a very professional person called Valerie. In about two hours, the investigator called me, and this is where it got bizarre. He had a whiney voice and asked me twice, back to back, if I had seen any injuries on the baby. Each time I replied no and then said. "Let's do a good job on this. I'm a former social services director, and I will be writing about this on my blog.
Let me say again that unless I specified, these quotes are all paraphrases not exact quotes. The social worker said, "I don't care about your blog."
"That's very disrespectful."
"Do you have an emotional problem?"
"Do you have an emotional problem," I shot back.
He laughed harshly. Bingo! "There you go, being disrespectful again," I added.
Swords drawn, I answered the rest of his questions and hanged up.
It was time to pick up Audrey for our shopping trip, so I called the child abuse hotline back and asked to speak to Valerie, the nice social worker. First I got a Donna who put me through to a gentleman who answered my call and referred me to Client Relations when I told him what was going on. By luck, I got Donna whom I had already talked to when I was trying to find Valerie. I relayed the above conversation to her and explained, "Look, I wanted to write a positive story about this on my blog, but I go where the truth takes me. When I came here eleven years ago, I got the idea that you all were getting a bad deal, and needed better pay and more social workers."
"Well, thank you, but we can't have people talking to you like that either. It sounds like he needs a course in customer relations."
Next time, I will reply, "He needs more than that."
I gave her my blog's address, and hanged up.
Then Audrey said, "He talked to me weird too. He said, 'Do you know Pete Nickerson?
I said, 'Yes." Then he said, 'Does he have a mental problem?' and I told him, 'Definitely not."
Exasperated, I replied, "Audrey, why didn't you tell me this while I was talking to Donna?"
I called Donna back, gave the phone to Audrey, and she related the above. Donna has said she will call me back, so we'll see what happens with both the abused baby and the strange social worker. My initial diagnosis is first that the social work is very strange, and second, he didn't like my deep, masculine, authoritative voice. Underscore "masculine." Get the message? Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com
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