Tag Archives: life

Answer: Because We Make Mistakes.

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Question: Why do they put erasers on pencils?

It’s true, though I must admit, I didn’t think of it. However, you will have to go far and wide to find a person more mistakes prone as I am. For the most part, the mistakes can be eradicated. As with the eraser, the error can be figuratively and easily rubbed out.

Life’s challenges aren’t always simple to overcome. Some wounds, both physical and emotional, leave lasting marks that we carry with us. Forgiveness might come, but the consequences of our actions or accidents can persist. My own journey with a severely damaged ankle serves as a testament to this reality. Despite an orthopedic surgeon’s meticulous hours of surgical intervention, the injury continues to haunt me. The persistent throbbing pain seems almost independent of the physical limb itself. When I sought a solution, the doctor’s stark response was chilling: surgical removal was an option, but the pain might well remain, a phantom reminder of past trauma. Some scars, it seems, transcend physical boundaries, etching themselves into our very existence.

Navigating life’s pivotal moments requires careful reflection, especially when facing choices with lasting consequences. Our decisions can echo through time, leaving indelible marks that no simple correction can erase. Like permanent ink on the canvas of our existence, some choices demand thoughtful consideration before we commit. Not all mistakes can be easily undone, and wisdom lies in pausing to truly understand the potential long-term impact of our actions.

In one respect, I have been fortunate. I have never directly taken part in the taking any human life. The thought that I might one day scares me. Yet one day, either by accident or in defense, it might happen. It might happen on the highway or in defense. As I contemplate such a remote possibility, I wonder how I might cope with it. This is especially true if it be an innocent child by accident.

Some people have no problem living with it. They take the lives of innocent unborn babies. Some doctors do this by the hundreds without hesitation and not an ounce of guilt.

Some women, in the name of freedom of choice, pay those doctors. I would say that they do it without a second thought. Their conscience becomes seared to a point they don’t care. How-some-ever, I suspect, sometimes, it might strike later in life. Disagree with me as you will, I have found God does have a way of calling things to our attention in ways and at times we least expect. And yes, it hurts more than the broken ankle. And it nags at you any time you’re awake.

Some mistakes leave permanent marks, etched into memory like scars that time cannot fade. The consequences of our actions linger, a constant reminder of choices made and paths taken. No amount of wishful thinking can erase the emotional weight we carry, a burden that becomes part of our very essence.

Our Phones!

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The subtle tremor against my sternum stirs me from slumber. Logically, the smartphone nestled in my breast pocket is the source of the disturbance. Yet, in the stillness of the night, I’m perplexed by the unexpected interruption, wondering who could be reaching out at this hour.

Groggily, I fumble for my phone, its screen a blurry mess of light and shadow. With heavy-lidded eyes, I swipe to answer the call, mumbling “Hello?” three times before a human voice briefly breaks through the static. Suddenly, the voice morphs into a robotic recording, draining away any hope of meaningful communication. Resigned, I disconnect the call and sink back into my pillow, sleep beckoning once more.

Unsolicited advertisements intrude on my personal space, flagrantly disregarding my privacy. Unlike traditional media where advertisers fund the platform, I bear the full cost of my communication device, yet receive no compensation for these unwelcome interruptions. The disparity is stark: television and radio ads are subsidized by marketing budgets, while my personal phone becomes an unpaid billboard for corporate messaging.

Frustrated by the constant barrage of unwanted calls, I long for a platform to reach millions and share a crucial message: ignore these intrusive telemarketing attempts. If consumers collectively refused to engage, these disruptive businesses would quickly disappear, allowing us all to reclaim our peace and quiet. By simply hanging up and refusing to participate, we could silence these persistent interruptions and restore tranquility to our daily lives. The one and only reason they continue to persist is that sometimes they succeed.

During the period from late October to early December, unsolicited marketing intensifies, particularly targeting seniors like myself who are Medicare-eligible. These advertisers seem to have access to demographic information, though their targeting isn’t always precise. In one instance, I received a call claiming to offer thousands of dollars from Tennessee, despite living in Mississippi. Such blatantly false claims reveal the desperation and disregard these marketers have for potential customers, using the pattern of lies in hopes of our business.

Some corporate sharks swim in boardrooms, armed with MBAs instead of machetes or guns, plotting to extract every last penny from our wallets with surgical precision and spreadsheet finesse. Their weapons? Slick marketing, fine print, and a smile that says, “Trust me, this is totally in your best interest.”

And… They use the phones we pay for to do it.

Humana; Just Plain Wasteful

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Food waste is a persistent concern that weighs heavily on my conscience. Today, I discovered a thawed frozen meal in my car, a frustrating reminder of my unintentional negligence. The irony of an unfrozen “frozen” dinner is not lost on me, and the situation feels both perplexing and disheartening.

Frustrated, I reluctantly discarded the forgotten item. Had I discovered it earlier, I could have salvaged and consumed it. The previous night’s freezing temperatures suggested it might still be edible. I distinctly remembered seeing it fall from the grocery bag and mentally noted to rescue it, but somehow failed to follow through.

In a moment of self-reflection, I acknowledged my forgetfulness and offered a sincere apology to God for being wasteful. The irony of relying on mental notes struck me—they’re as desirable as a thawed microwave meal that once held promise. My frustration simmered beneath the surface, a reminder of my own fallibility.

After discarding the spoiled frozen meal, I retrieved the mail. Amidst the stack of unsolicited papers, a Humana insurance brochure caught my eye. I recalled the challenging period when my wife was 63, and our monthly health insurance premium approached $1,000 due to Obama Care.

Throughout the year, I diligently paid Humana twelve full insurance premiums, yet not a single claim was filed. These payments were mandated by law, not a voluntary choice. When the year concluded, I found myself searching for alternative insurance coverage after Humana abruptly terminated my policy. The experience left me frustrated and feeling cheated. I vividly recall paying ten thousand dollars for essentially nothing, receiving only a dismissive farewell from the company.

Dismissing the Humana correspondence, I swiftly discarded the unnecessary paper, recognizing its irrelevance and considering both the document and its postage a futile expenditure of resources.

My silence feels like a futile resistance against their misguided persistence. Despite knowing they won’t listen, their relentless pursuit seems tragically wasteful—consuming resources and paper in a fruitless attempt to reach me. Their determination remains blind to the environmental cost of their unheeded communications.

Somehow, I suspect I am not the only one with feelings towards Humana. Perhaps we are losing trees by the thousands in similar efforts to reach similar former customers. Do you think the tree huggers care? I sincerely doubt it. They have no hope to gain any political gain from it.

G49

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A while ago I purchased a Glock 49. As advised, I always clean a gun before using it. In this case, I spent over an hour breaking it down. Naturally, I have no one around to show me how so, well, I was not to good at it.

After months of neglect, I finally carved out time to visit the shooting range. My firearm had been sitting idle, and I was determined to maintain my proficiency. Practicing would ensure I could handle the weapon effectively if the need ever arose.

A nagging doubt crept into my mind. The hand gun had been neglected for two months, untouched and uncleaned. While logic suggested it would function without issue, the uncertainty gnawed at me. The prospect of discovering a malfunction at the range was unsettling. Equally unappealing was the looming task of cleaning it- a process I could no longer clearly remember.

After extensive online research and multiple tries, I initially questioned my purchase. However, I soon mastered the technique, disassembling and reassembling the firearm with remarkable ease. Comparable only to my military-issued M16, this weapon’s field stripping process proved incredibly straightforward. Skilled professionals can likely complete the task in mere seconds, it takes me about half a minute. The reassembly was even faster and intuitive, clarifying why Glocks have such a devoted following among firearm enthusiasts..

The pistol’s accuracy astounded me, far exceeding my expectations. My groupings were impressively tight—a 3-inch cluster at 7 yards and a 4-inch spread at 10 yards, reminiscent of my precision during my Marine Corps service. Despite its slightly challenging concealability, I’m convinced this firearm will become my go-to defensive weapon.

Each Solution Breeds New & Worse Problems

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New Mexico has implemented a groundbreaking free child care program, as reported by CBS News. During an interview, the state’s governor explained that the initiative will be fully funded through oil revenue, providing significant relief for families across the state.

Wait a minute! I thought the production and use of petroleum products were going to destroy the world. It is what the Democrats have been warning us about for decades now. It was causing decreases in temperatures and then increases in temperatures. It was supposed to flood massive amounts of land, including virtually all of Florida.

Do we really want to rely on and hence encourage the production and use of that horrible cause of climate change, oil? According to that climate expert, Al Gore, if we persist at that, danger lingers just around the bend. Well, maybe not. You see, climate change only occurs when the fuel is used by Republicans. That is the way it works, you see.

Now, back to the primary subject, daycare. First, bear in mind that there are potential problems. For instance, both my wife and I worked nights. Does this mean that they will have to provide daycare at night too? (That is, if you can comprehend the obvious conflict of daycare at night.)

The proposed regulations for day care centers aim to elevate quality standards, which will likely result in increased operational costs. While ensuring high-quality childcare is commendable, these changes may inadvertently drive up expenses. The potential surge in demand could necessitate expanded infrastructure, including more day care facilities and additional teaching staff. This scenario exemplifies the fundamental economic principle of supply and demand: as costs to parents goes away, the desire for such services naturally increases.

Perhaps one thing not thought of is the two-parent family where only one works. I’m sure that rare wife who stays home will appreciate that babysitter, though not actually needed.

It’s the way it is with those short sighted democrats. They come up with all these wonderful ideas and they don’t think them through. Then again, maybe it is as they want. One of the most important goals of the communist for government control of children to start as soon and as much as possible. We just might find something two-year-olds coming home and preaching the wonderful benefits of Marxism.

Don’t be surprised when it comes to past.

The Great Pretenders

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The haunting melody of “The Great Pretender” by The Platters resonates deeply with my personal journey. This timeless song has become an anthem that mirrors my own experiences of masking inner turmoil. When life dealt me a devastating blow, I perfected the art of wearing a facade, skillfully concealing the profound pain that churned beneath my composed exterior. No one could glimpse the emotional storm raging within me, as I maintained an impenetrable mask of normalcy and strength.

Most people, if they’re honest, experience a period of putting on a facade. In fact, I’d argue that this is universal. Feel free to challenge my perspective, but I remain skeptical of anyone claiming complete authenticity from the start. We all wear masks at some point, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not.

The captivating television series “The Pretender” featured a protagonist with extraordinary intellectual capabilities, enabling him to seamlessly adopt diverse professional identities. In a memorable scene, when questioned about his medical expertise, the main character confidently responded, “I am today,” highlighting his remarkable ability to adapt and excel in any role. Throughout the episode, he skillfully navigated both medical challenges and complex social criminal investigations, ultimately helping a young patient while unraveling a deeper mystery.

To be sure, there are real professional pretenders. Years ago, they told us the greatest danger facing man was global climate change. They pretended to be great experts on the subject.

The silence surrounding the previous climate discussions is puzzling. Have the critical issues truly dissipated, or have they simply been swept under the rug? What unprecedented meteorological phenomenon emerged that warranted such abrupt dismissal? More importantly, why has the discourse fallen silent? Did the purported meteorological authorities conveniently shift their focus, abandoning this critical narrative without substantive explanation? This, of course, while pretending great knowing on who knows what else.

A Little Good, Maybe, Hopefully

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One of my first posts was a true story about my wife and her very persistent rash. She had visited multiple doctors, and still the rash persisted. Finally, in an act of frustration, we changed from Tide laundry detergent.

The rash vanished instantly, prompting me to share my experience not out of frustration, but to help others facing similar challenges. My journey revealed potential issues with certain personal care products, including a widely used bath soap that I now carefully avoid. By speaking out, I hope to provide valuable insights and support to those seeking solutions to unexpected skin reactions.

Furthermore, this might be a call to be careful to completely rinse the soap, regardless of the brand or type.

Recently, after publishing my blog post about laundry detergents for sensitive skin, I was intrigued to see Tide launch a new product line targeting this specific market. While I can’t definitively say my writing influenced their decision, I can’t help but wonder if my message resonated with the company. Perhaps my small contribution has helped raise awareness about the needs of those with sensitive skin.

How-some-ever, this is far from the last of notes that make me wonder if I’ve done a little good. I have seen some changes that make me suspicious that I might have.

On the other hand, maybe not. Maybe I am just being a little egotistical. I must say, I do believe that more little efforts have had some effect. When someone takes the time and effort to tell me there is no God, it tells me he might not be the only one to consider my argument.

Embracing our collective mission, I find value in every contribution, regardless of individual outcomes. Being part of this team is a profound privilege, even if my role seems minor. My true success may lie in supporting a fellow team member’s efforts to guide someone towards spiritual transformation, highlighting the power of collaborative purpose.

The ripple effect of a single conversion can be profound, potentially inspiring countless others to embrace faith. Ultimately, the significance lies not in my personal success, but in guiding individuals toward a transformative spiritual choice that impacts their eternal destiny and deepens their connection with Christ.

Every individual’s salvation ripples through humanity, subtly or profoundly transforming the collective human experience. When one life is rescued, redirected, or redeemed, the potential for positive change expands exponentially, creating unseen yet meaningful impact on our shared global landscape.

This is a reality so profound, it transcends even the most resolute skepticism.

Everything Falls

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As I age, the constant pull of gravity seems to challenge me more intensely. Standing up has become increasingly difficult, particularly after sitting on the ground. My balance isn’t what it used to be, and I find myself stumbling or losing my footing more frequently than before. These physical changes are a stark reminder of the passage of time and the subtle ways our bodies transform with age.

Lately, I’ve noticed a peculiar phenomenon: whenever I place an object on a completely level surface, it remains stationary momentarily, only to inexplicably tumble to the ground the moment I look away. This occurrence has become increasingly frequent, leaving me to wonder if gravity’s mysterious force is intensifying. While I can’t definitively explain this curious pattern, the repeated incidents have certainly piqued my curiosity.

Gravity seems to conspire against my medication routine, transforming simple pill-taking into a frustrating game of chance. Each tiny tablet appears magnetically drawn to the floor, slipping through my fingers with an uncanny precision. Tonight, I briefly celebrated a small victory when I snatched one pill in mid-descent, only to watch helplessly as two more evaded my grasp, continuing their rebellious tumble toward the ground.

As I attempt to put my medications in my mouth, occasionally a pill slips and clatters to the floor. When this happens, I’m left in a precarious situation, unsure which specific medication has fallen. The stakes are high, especially with critical prescriptions like my blood pressure medication. Missing a dose could potentially lead to serious health risks, including the threat of a stroke. Determined to maintain my health, I meticulously search the floor, carefully crawling and scanning until I locate the dropped pill, ensuring I don’t compromise my medical regimen.

Then, of course, I’m back to that other problem of gravity: standing.

Complaint or Affirmation?

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Over the years, in my attempt to write books, I have learned. For instance, there is a legal term “waive.” There is also a word, “canvass.” I found that out the hard way. My worst mistake was misspelling one of my books titles,”The survivers.”

I am not going to make excuses for myself. It was a dumb, stupid mistake, and a woman called me out on it. I corrected the mistake, and others went on to read and enjoy the book. I even got one 4-star review, though most were only 3 stars.

The thing is, the woman did me a great favor, or even a privilege, with her complaint, and I was genuinely thankful for it. Moreover, I will be grateful for any other corrections. You see, I really enjoy the affirmations, but I find the complaints more profitable.

I am not the first to realize that complaints are good things. There was a man who pleaded with his customers, “Please give me the privilege of hearing your complaints.” He built a retail empire because of it.

Lately, many submit an opportunity to use surveys to rate them. You know, the 1 to 5 star rating thing. Invariably, I notice many companies pointing to survey results, boasting about how many stars they have.

It is but one reason I refuse to take part in surveys. It is fine for some things such as books. However, sometimes I get the idea that big corporations seek not the complaints but rather the affirmations.

Immediately after I purchased my Chevrolet HHR, they had me take a survey. Three years later, I could not find a place anywhere to register a complaint. They wanted the affirmations right after I bought the car. They clearly have little interest in complaints three years later.

Actually, my purpose was to help them with my remark. Clearly, they weren’t interested.

Lately, Walmart has been requesting surveys from me. It would seem they were seeking complaints, but I suspect they just want to accumulate stars. In other words, they are seeking those wonderful accolades.

I was tired of deleting the surveys, so I filled it out. I’ll let you guess how I did it. I don’t think they will like me anymore.

For anyone else who might see this, they might decide against asking me to fill in their survey. Better to keep it simple. Just ask if I have any complaints. Better yet, provide someone to take my complaint to—that is, assuming they really want the privilege of my complaint.

Frequently, we customers don’t complain. If possible, we simply go away.

Here They Come

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Subtitle: I Told You So

Years ago, maybe one or two will remember, I wrote a post about driverless cars. The prediction has come true. I heard it on the news today.

There was a crowd that speculated 60 Teslas had accidents while on Autopilot. They suggest the loss of 60 lives because the computer does not drive as well as a human. Personally, I challenge the concept. Suspect it is likely half and half. Likely a little more one way than the other.

Whichever way, whatever happens, the die is being cast. Those legal eagles, ambulance chasers have smelled blood in the water, and soon the lawsuits will start flying.

Buckle up for a wild ride through the autonomous automotive frontier! While self-driving cars rev my imagination, I can’t help but ponder the ultimate showdown: Silicon Valley’s algorithmic prodigy versus the unpredictable human behind the wheel. Will our robotic chauffeurs outsmart the caffeine-fueled, text-messaging, road-rage-prone human drivers? The jury’s still out, and this technological tango promises to be more suspenseful than a high-stakes game of bumper cars.

Expert witnesses will parade in, each side wielding their technical wizards like legal weapons. The computer’s impeccable security will be interrogated, cross-examined, and dissected with surgical precision. Meanwhile, the lawyers will be grinning from ear to ear, their framed diplomas casting a victorious gleam on the courtroom walls, knowing they’re the only true beneficiaries of this digital drama.

The ambulance chasers will likely win their share, and the defense attorneys will likely win a few. Most will likely be settled out of court. Sometimes the defense will be afraid of losing and set a standard. Sometimes, the prosecutor will settle, afraid to set the standard the other way.

As all the paperwork from all the legal briefs finishes trickling down from above, the losers will be the drivers. The cost of the cars will skyrocket, and naturally, the cost of auto insurance will likely follow.

Sure, a settlement might line a few pockets, but who’s signing up to trade their body parts for a payout? Not this savvy survivor, that’s for sure. I’d rather keep my limbs intact and my bank account untouched.

So, at some point, the computer has to become better than the human. I ask you, do we take the steering wheel out of the hands of humans for the safety of others? On the other hand, do we permit humans to hold onto the wheel in spite of it being more dangerous?

Futurists, brace yourselves: the million-dollar question is lurking just around the corner, ready to pounce when we least expect it. And hey, while we’re at it, we might want to whip up some shiny new laws that are as clever as they are cutting-edge.

Considering laws are made by lawyers for lawyers, I don’t expect to see it in my lifetime.