Healthcare Hustle

I’m hating all this healthcare noise dude.

It’s all a lie to prop up an industry. We know that don’t work. Subsidies sunk the automotive industry, mortgage industry, real estate, and now we’re seeing an end of the insurance industry that props up the healthcare industry. Subsidies basically mean I have a great idea that won’t really work, but will make a bunch of people happy as long as you pay for it.

Healthcare funding is really evil. These folks create a sliding scale of health that is akin to niches like the automotive industry. Say you get an error code for emissions and the mechanic tells you it could be a sensor. You replace the sensor and find out your gas cap is not tightened.

Same thing with fibromyalgia. You get told it could be arthritis but the rheumatologist won’t see you because really it is a psychological issue. You get told it could be nerve pain, but the neurologist tells you your synapses fire fine. Now we venture into the sliding scale of autoimmune up to and including MS. So now you’ve been poked and shocked to the point your pain meds have been quadrupled and you still haven’t visited the psychologist.

Now since we can’t find out what’s wrong with you we’ll diagnose you with fibromyalgia, give you meds for nerve pain and one for nociceptive pain to determine another origin. In the end it was psychogenic pain because your gas cap wasn’t on tight, so now you have another pill.

These designer conditions and syndromes invisibly supply addicts with dignity and a legal hustle that destroy families and communities under the guise of medical mysteries when we all “wink and nod” knowing the psychologist knows.

The hustles too deep though. It’s got the patient, the doctor, and the pharmacist locked up in a twisted dance of dollars and dysfunction that has whole families broke and confused while the Doctor and pharmacist tan, riding jet skies on the weekend at family vacation homes. Meanwhile family members scrape up dollars for noodles and cigarettes.

It’s so deep that those folks in Washington are declaring a war on the drugs that are subsidizing their salaries. It really ain’t just drugs though. Them asshats try to hang Ronald McDonald from the arches because there are too many motorized shopping carts in the grocery store. Or the tired ass parent conspiring with a school teacher to medicate little Johnny, then talk about how he don’t like to eat, feigning worry about his weight.

Now they all have support groups. So if you get a condition or syndrome there ain’t no definitive medical diagnosis for like ADHD or fibromyalgia you can join an on line group, order colored t shirts and ribbons, and walk around a track aimlessly together once a year raising money to fund research into creating your medical mystery.

It’s ludicrous because you can’t even question the hustle without seeming like your evil. Folks get territorial when it comes to their addictions. You start to tell folks that the hustles over you’ll have anarchy.

I mean, look around you for a minute. How many folks do you know who are on some kind of medicine. It’s crazy. Either we’re suffering a mass extinction slowly devolving or we’re becoming collectively crazy and would rather medicate something or someone than deal with them or it.

All I know is that some signs are obvious. I don’t care personally if you shop for a condition or syndrome. I don’t care if you hustle meds for cigarette money. I don’t care if you have grander plans for a check. Dude, I ain’t interested in the misery that comes for those few dollars. The process would give me PTSD. Just please don’t ask me to “wink and nod” with you. My eyes are drying out and I’ve got vertigo from shaking my head.

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Echoes, Shadows, and Words

Words create shadows of meaning that echo through our soul
So what is unspoken suffocates
Our thoughts exacting their toll

Sentiments hang in the balance like branches in mid winter
Cracked and clattering gray like old bones that dry and splinter

Are words felt better than said, like a winters breeze
Or heard without a listeners ear with burdens to ease

Like screaming in the wind at dusty crossroads
The crow sits stolid on wires of irony with eyes that forebode

Can you really hear me in all my seasons and glory
Or do you listen with your beliefs creating your own story

I’m not you to create like summer sand castles in the sun
Spending hours dreading shadows and the tides that run

I’m constant like the mirage between you and the horizon
Melding into mountains and asphalt giving you pause to question

I see your intention like hail raining down on a crystal lake
Your words glisten with an edge that cuts for your sake.

But from here I walk alone through forests and time
No worries or words for a world with no rhythm or rhyme

I leave you behind just beyond the echo of my footsteps
Leaving clouds of dust where tears fell in earnest.

Family Myth

Family is an agreement that love is paramount, time is precious, and honesty transcends self.

Blood is not thicker than water, it’s made of water and flows freely together. Water is the essence of life that beats through our veins and fuels emotions to sweeter heights. Without water we have no pulse.

Absence does not make the heart grow fonder, commitment makes the heart beat towards the memory and hope of another, loyalty minus the exceptions.

Without water blood coagulates, it ceases to flow. A heart that beats dust leaves ashes to fall, and withered limbs reaching for a love without color.

So now I’ve learnt to create moments, behind memories and just beyond hope I feel with my heart as my hands lay silent, ever looking for that moment words pulse with color.

My heart beats in all directions like a starburst reaching out to darkness, or disappearing into the light. No matter though; I can always close my eyes or look at the sun in memory of us, because family beats in our heart and rests in our mind.

Garden of Tomorrow

Don’t mistake me for the workin man
I ain’t down with wages and death
I’m not following another mans plan

You fell for the dream
Cause they caught you sleeping
And you bought the farm

Now you’re afraid to awaken
To the reality
Of what has been taken

You’ve swallowed a lie
And refused to hack
It was easier to follow
Another mans track

Now you look sideways at your prodigy
Wonder when they’ll realize
You’re a sleep walker
Traveling as a man in disguise

All those dollars you paid to a lie
You saw a doctor, who saw a dollar
Now you’re sick a tired
In a medicinal stupor

You forfeited youth
For a lie
And your dignity
Was your high

You’re the American way
Just short of truth
And captured by the day

I know you had that moment,
That moment where the reality superseded the dream
And you looked around at all you’ve collected that’s turned gray and sags with the weight of years and ignorance. Then you were vested in futility.

Suddenly the guy who has nothing redefined wealth and you’re bankrupt by all accounts. You had no sense of what is more,
or less sad.

I see you, I hear you shuffling
Down creaky hallways mumbling
About “back in the day”
When you were weak stumbling
Along behind another mans way

You never stood tall
Bowing down to fools
And applauding other men
Using you as a tool

I created dollars with my mind
Making sense with my hands
Looking after mine in kind
Sharing dirt and sifting sand

We grew strong folks like weeds
That don’t swallow lies for dollars
Or sell their legacy for another man’s pockets full of influence

Revolution will come one day
And all you’ve fabricated will return to green and dirt where you’ll rest
Eternally in the arms of a lie.

It will be our seed that flourishes
In the garden of tomorrow
You got too greedy, too consumed
With the rope we afforded you

Shadows in the myst

Lightening Streaks across the horizon peeling back the colors of darkness.

Reflections reveal the surface of the lake is real, and it holds colors hostage in its dark depths while secretly making love to shadows.

It’s the thunder that awakens or distracts our senses to our fears, light or sound; the storm is just a word.

The crack of air tears a second of reality open for all to hear, but no one listens, they remember or fear shadows in the wind.

We live in a world of surfaces. Colors and textures dominating our landscape with stolid waves of dirt undulating still, as our feet move through the valleys and peaks carrying thoughts like embers in a pouch.

Lightening reveals a glimpse of chalk painted figures dancing with smoke around orange shards of warmth. The storm is their power.

To them there are no forces of nature, only the power of nature to be harnessed and rode through the shadows of life. No width, depth, or breadth to be concerned with, not even time can catch the mind on fire.

The earth moves in mysterious places open for all to see. This is how the still mind travels and the racing mind runs in circles searching for its peace. The shadows between the two dance with lighting to the sound of thunder surrounded by surfaces like a prism and in between each color the shadow sits silently wondering how they can’t see they’re one.

With love

I can still feel my heart still as you slid uncontrollably down flat rocks
Along cascading waters on a sister dare. The edge of fear and elation you rode on gave sisters confidence and mothers a heart attack.

I remember watching you ascend the “X-rock first with your helmet facing the horizon and spaghetti straps intertwined through your lead rope. You climbed through the fear and strength with a purpose; giving confidence to your sisters through smiles and laughter.

I remember watching you jump your horse over poles and barrels leaving the definition of freedom wisping in the air like a cloud of confidence.

Then showing your horse, who’s nerves waited on you to calm her feet. You twisted and pulled till it was time to jump and I watched your Momma and sisters stare in wonder at your bravery as you jumped in the air of freedom and ribbons.

Countless times I’ve seen you step out first fighting fear for your sisters and others. Wether it was on a softball field or ballet stage, in a shop in Mexico or a school at home. You always stepped up when others stepped back.

Now you’ve taken a big leap. You’re gonna start a whole new chapter in your life in a few short weeks. Again, you’re gonna be first and to listen to you, you’d think you were “an old pro”!

I always saw through your bravery. You were always brave for others fear. You stepped up to ease the anxious nature of others. From the time you got your “Leadership Medal” in Kindergarden you were destined to lookout for others, and look at your career, you’re doing what is in your heart.

I know in those silent moments you have your own doubts and fears. I also l know that you’ll find a way to overcome those anxious moments with grace. You’ll probably spend those last moments reassuring others and wondering “what the hell have I got into now”!! Don’t worry, I promise you you’ll do good and Cooper will capture your heart and make all the questions dissipate like the sun on the mist over a pond as it rises.

I’m excited for you and I love you. I hope you remember to breathe and look around at all the folks that love you and David. All the folks that will share the endless moments of pride and joy Cooper is gonna bring to everyone. This is a first for you.

I say that it’s a first for you, not because you’ve never done this before, but because you are about to redefine love in a way you can’t imagine until Coopers here. That’s something for you to embrace at a level you’ll understand later, this first is for you and David, no one else.

I know you’ll prepare for that day. I’m sure you’ll be ready for every eventuality. You’ll prepare and share what you learnt about the latest techniques and toys. You’ll make plans that will fall apart and you’ll ask yourself, “What was I thinking!” It’s all good though because no matter how much you prepare you can’t prepare for life after your baby comes and that makes me smile.

Congrats on still being the first! I’m so excited for you, and a David, but especially you. Try your hardest to soak up the love around you throughout these next weeks. Try to let go of “what if” and enjoy the scenes around you. Those folks in the waiting room are part of the beauty.

You’ve been the first for me many times. This is a probably my last letter to the you who has brought me so much love and joy through years of joy and pain. I love you and can’t wait to watch you grow once again into the Momma you’ll become from the girl I adored.
Love
Dad

Rant #1

Anarchy is poverty’s carrot at the end of the reins of lesser men who resent freedom. These little fucks out there don’t even understand they’re traditions are theater. Those hippies weren’t real. Them bitches were just looking for a reason not to do shit for a couple years. As soon as they grew up they put on their fucking tweed jackets and knee pads and learnt to say yup, that’s how yes came out when you had a mouthful of capitalism trying to say yes at the same time you swallowed a mouthful of oppression.

Yeah, it’s alright now. Just ignore those bastards out there having public tantrums over shit that ain’t none of us even able to feel. So we fake it like everyone else and put on polo shirts with stripes and put chains around our neck pretending we’re slaves to something other than our own egocentric existence, you need a switch motherfucker.

Man, I remember that dude crying about the music died. Bitch, you had no idea that American pie would taste like regurgitated plastic black beans and rice that’s floated in the gulf for 70 years. Then you have the audacity to bring out those tired motherfuckers who hid in the trailers of yuppies and sang cartoon songs for a living so boomer never felt left out as he aged.

You run around being cool with that blunt in your ashtray. You fake little bitch. You don’t know what dope is. You fuck around smoking anything you can put in a pipe and try and make that shit a career. Then you find yourself arm in arm headed into Walmart with some bitch wearing size 12 stretch pants straining under a t-shirt with a set of Mick Jaggers lips splattered across her fat ass chest. You and your dented up Honda with speakers in it that cost more than the damn car did blowing some fake ass mixed shit. Fuck you and your Walmart video.

The shit don’t stop. Even these retro living geeks with fake muscle cars that drive to plastic cubicles where they’re filled with photos of some poseurs at a plastic campsite surrounded by bug repellant and the hum of a generator charging the C-pap machine inside the RV so he don’t fall asleep driving back to his tortured life.

And you folks out there labeling your world for your obsessive compulsive comfort. Keep us out of your box. You crayon box life is infantile. I ain’t white bitch. I’m me motherfucker. And I don’t color no more. So take your red, white, and black crayons and melt them down into a candle you can burn at the next mock vigil for the “homie” you didn’t ever even talk to.

Protest my ass. You little pricks spend your weekends starting shit believing your righteous. Your a dumbass who don’t even understand who your producer is. Them motherfuckers been starting shit for decades in the background. You think your waving a sign for justice, you just didn’t read the back of the sign like that juvenile middle school tactic of taping a kick me sign on the back of the weakest kid. That’s you bitch, and those progressive puppet masters got you on a string you can’t see in a play your so focused on your part you forgot you were on stage. Wake up bitch.

I’m sick of hearing about football players with retro hair do’s whining about a job. Fuck him. He quit a job and is still gettin paid for it. If yo ass was good enough you could have overcome being a dumbshit who was duped by some Muslim pussy that had an IED in it, you were the I ED, immature educated dumbass. OJ could get hired by the Patriots before you could get picked up by the Browns. Stupid fuck, go back and listen to the dad talk about woman and relationships.

All this shit about “22 a day”, PTSD, and veterans before illegals got my ass going to. Bitch, you must think we’re stupid. Cause your the same motherfucker who posts about millions of trained veterans on standby. Go look at the data for which vets are killing themselves tell me more about your sneaky ass motives. PTSD ain’t nothing new murtherfuckers. Beaten housewives been dealing with it for years. You ain’t got PTSD if your ass was in Quatar handing out towels at an MWR pool and had to watch a video of your old lady giving birth to your first born poseur.
And your so fucking stupid that you don’t understand that when you post about vets before illegals your talking about dependents also. Mexicans and Mexican Americans got a solid rep for steppin up and many of the folks they left behind ain’t legal. Not to mention the numbers of undocumented German and Korean spouses who were dumped by their piece of shit old man for a Hood rat when they got stateside. Quit trying to network the broken so you can have a career when they privatize VA. You ain’t slick bitch!

We gotta bring the schoolyard bully back. Not the little bitch Ya’all know who runs around talking about folks and starting shit trying to make folks feel bad about theirselves. I want the motberfucker who kicked the shit out of that little mouthpiece and taught him or her to stay in their lane.

I’m so sick of the monument morons who bounce around the country looking for the county with the lowest IQ to come in and divide. They hand out Tiki torches and vagina hats , then shout “Are you ready to rumble?” In their best WWE voice. If you’re so stupid you can’t see what’s up with the folks moving into your town and finding a couple dumbasses to help stir shit up; you might be a ……!

I don’t care about these white supremacist asshats either. They’re not even a threat, unless you run a porn shop that sells beer, leather nazi hats, and riding crops. Who takes anyone serious that meet in old garages with flags on the wall, bitch, you need to put your crayons away and get a fuckin tan.

I’m done for now. I hope I didn’t offend anyone, but if I did, fuck you to. It’s time to be real and stop looking like the jester on the national scene. I mean really, other folks are looking at us and thinking we’re the leaders of the intellectually challenged world order.

We need to silence these little bastard who are pitting the dumbasses within our country against each other to further their political game. White and black supremacist, genderist, feminist, separatist, all the “ist’s” are obviously still believing the progressive movement is on their side. Wake up, they’ve been using you for decades and leaving you no better than before you met them. How long are you gonna get fucked before you expect a kiss!!!!

Peace out!!!