I began earlier to muse aloud, and then a breeze must have knocked down a tree to cause my 'electronic contraption gadget' to go Capote?

ondelette's ref., Ollie, got me feeling grief and some simultaneous joy for the spoken truth. Sonofabastard! yes. And if "bread and circus" food-chains, or "fresh-fields," say, "organic," W.T., don't trust that label. When moneychangers stock a store-shelf, or sell their products and wares, no-believe. They jacj up the fair price and rob you for Wall Street creeps. Do not even trust, Self? Sometimes.

If any one wishes to consider a purchase of a 58-year-young, green, red-rack side-rails...A farm-truck Studebaker, let me know? Because if the price is right, anything is for sale. Don't sell the human soul for a bowl of olive-oil?

RealName got me wondering and flash-backing: Thanks. A Gary Pillard (sp) was a law school "Shake and Bake" I respected in war. He was from the Boston area, and a superficial phone-book search, years ago, came to naught. A "instant buck sergeant" forward artillery observer...Gary...would sometimes be with the 'grunts' when not at a often-run-over, artillary base by the 'foe' of American intervention. THEN, in 1969-70, Gary sported a facsimile of a handle-bar, upper-lip, brownish caterpillar mustachio. He deserved praise for his opposition to the war. I remember searching him out each time we came into the barbed-wire rear, and that was rare. In the dangerous rear-area, and Gary was sad that a deranged troop burst m-16 rounds into several friendly non-juicers.

Artillery forward-observers, "Skake and Bakes," suffered noise-deprivation from all night 155-artlillary rounds. Noise crazed the nerve-ends of a human organism. On a 'troops' 21st birthday, one eve, on dangerous LZ-Grant, we sat and passed the ivory bowl around 21-Times, heaven forbid! Go-gung Ho, but the Chaplain won't allow that! The bunker-session ended in a Lifer's bust, but the 'bowls' kept going round and round, 2 X 21? Who was counting? The friendly deaths he grieved-over are on the Vietnam Wall.

A noble soldiers innocent death smells like sweet milk. A psychotic killer's demise, is vile and horrid. The jaw drops, and flies enter. The memory of one sad-event only scratches the surface..

...My point: If law student Gary was now a garbage man, a gynecologist, a functional practicing advocacy lawyer, or a dogcatcher, I'd call him a "muffin fluffy." If he is a golf-slicer, a duffer, a tavern owner, I'd still smile to recall his booming hearty laugh in the midst of death. He was always a soothing 'treat' and a good Noble, non-killer, "muffin fluff-er." A hope he is a wizened lawyer...

...I was wondering, and no comment, okay, Id rather you go kick a mule till your fibula-bone pops out from your left calf-leg and looks like a barred-rock-rooster's beak in the springtime...

...I enjoy the painful comaradery here. The 'good-on-ya' too for a even-temperament, while addressing the vilest aspects of miserable human nature, okay?

...I'd rather sip toxic leafy spray, agent-orange dew, than be a ill tempered neocon politico. I'd NOY wish to be at their death-date when those sunken black eye-hole-balls peer into nowhere. I don't want to shut the foul s**t breath jaw-shut, and I feel sad for their poor mortician.....It's NOT soothing to know that hundreds of thousands of humans corps's have decayed along side tens of thousands of motor-vehicles, helicopters, and ransacked PX's...throughout past history. And I'm referencing the Mesoptamia Middle East real estate lands the thugs want to pilfer...

...And to know scavenger birds have plucked at rotting carrion in those same-same lands, and jackal neocons of old left hundreds of innocent bodies to THIS: The sun bleaching the bones of humans that some mother birthed, reared, cultivated, and loved...

...Reading here can get gloomy and a fierce human emotion does rise. Despairing thoughts of former-youth bleeding, keeps filling my memory, and the neocon keeps streaming forth a false bold-jabber that sickens a greater world. "They" are the modern beast-wolf that seeks and prowls via the earth, seeking whom they can devour for pride and a worthless nickel...

....Keep helping to help them/us, even if they 'steam.' The groaning dead-spirit screams from the Earth, and needs to wake-up the warmongers so they will learn to feel and be alive before they die. "They" are walking dead.

You didn't change your Real-Name from those days of horrid and gore of the past? Thanks. You help, more than you know, you noble, "muffin, hacker, fluffing, foothill, peeping, Americana, lawyer. smurf, smurf, muffin-furry, foot stompin, fin-fer-duffer-lawyer."

Thanks. I'll find a reason to go to the forbearing "funkindemup." okay.

A.J., brotherbruz, bebop,