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Having just reached the big six five ...
yeah, I'm really old ...
I have grown to appreciate the dietary fiber I choke down frequently during the week.
Even though I detest eating bran I feel it is a concentrated dose of just what is required to push that which nourishes me right on down the tube and out — if you will.
Despite the kinjite (forbidden subjects) 禁手 of certain human functions here in the United States I'm one of those to push that envelope and offend your ass at the drop of a hat.
Trust me.
So when you are regular you are better suited for each and every task set before you.
I am one to dose psyllium powder every day. I try to do two glasses. I was doing four daily but found that to be quite a bit much. However, the activity is far less than that of the bran.
Yes, the great massive poop flows from my henious anus because of the bran component in my diet.
Yes, I have no qualms with discussing such personal topics.
Yes, I believe you should be able to both give and take a joke.
Don't judge me.
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The topic of parental alienation is one of those vacuous concepts that escapes a true wherefore or why in the course of related lives that part ways.
I once felt that I was estranged from my father. You can be all tough and morally superior in your own mind and not realize that there are two ends of a relationship — family or not and that both sides deserve to be heard.
So while dad was a tough disciplinarian and tended to bring his Navy home with him, I felt that he loved me despite all my faults nonetheless. In the end all this parental alienation of mine did was make me cry for 20 years after I lost him to the consequences of tobacco. I still grieve his passing.
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The distance that I placed between us didn't quell my grief when standing there unable to help him in his final moments.
So though we had no real family separation nor attorneys nor judges nor psychologists in the mix we were a mess of our own design and for that mess I took full responsibility.
In retrospect had our roles been reversed I probably would have been far worse than I ever imagined he was given my distinctly Type A personality traits and status as a "late bloomer".
Daddy was an excellent provider and all he got from me was a steady stream disappointment and episodes of failure ...
I was just glad to somewhat redeem myself in his eyes by teaching college for 20 years. In light of all my bellyaching at this juncture I'm glad I did it for myself because it gave me a retirement edge I would not be enjoying otherwise.
One Sarvy Emo (what an appropriate last name, snapperhead) who was a leftist libtard activist from Canada proposed that March 28th be proclaimed Parental Alienation Awareness Day. Instead of some assertive level headed individual planting their foot up his whiny ass the day seems to have taken; only the international awareness campaign is now held on April 25th.
Though I am sure that there is parental alienation and that some of these instances are indeed justified — the concept simply never should have been applied by me to my father as it was in error.
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It is my personal belief that one should be adequately compensated for efforts delivered to another.
I suppose the world of writers has a gratis component mixed in it's capitalism and there are some writers who are more capitalist and less in favor of work provided on a gratis basis.
April 23rd brings us yet another International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day.
Meant to commemorate author Jo Walton's response to remarks made by Howard Hendrix stating that he was opposed SCIFI and fantasy writers posting their work on the internet for free.
The purpose of the day, according to Walton, was to encourage writers to post "professional quality" work on the internet free of charge.
The name of the day is derived from the assertion by Hendrix that the "webscabs" are changing the noble calling of writer into an existence of Pixel-stained Technopeasant Wretches.
There have been many contributions to this day by notable writers of the genres.
Happy International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day to you, wretches.