Tag Archives: psychology

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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Giving Back

I hesitate, my instincts too far beyond my surroundings

Alert, in tune with my heartbeat and the earths warnings

Now I must stop and seek cover from what I fear

Not cowering, not hiding, but living on the edge of finality it’s clear

Trust is the luxury of believers, I’m not a believer anymore, I’m here

Somewhere between safe and sound, I can no longer wander

It serves me well to stay in the shadows, alert and alive

I don’t need the lie anymore. I know under that beautiful garden there’s violence and decay, things we know, but don’t speak of

Don’t sell me assurances you can’t provide, I’m safe alone

I’m tired of all these people I have to be just to make your world complete

It’s been so long you don’t know which one is me, because you fell, fell into the trap and got ensnared in the one that you could never be for more than a moment

I was hear all along watching you melt under the light of an abstract dream. It was warm for a moment, but only the sun can bring true light, true warmth. The others just illuminated what they wish you to see, what they want you to be

Now your not human, not a person, but a part of something so much bigger than you that you can’t see it’s nothing, you’re nothing. You’ve been put to sleep in someone else’s dream.

Not I. I am wild, but free. I feel the heat of the day and shiver in darkness under the moons glow dreaming of sunrises.

What good is a sunset anyway. The end of a day shouldn’t be honored, it should be remembered. Where did we learn to worship the end of anything, it’s beginnings that have hope. All we have in sunsets are reflections and regrets

So I’ll keep your smile and give you back your watch. I’ll keep the sound of your voice, but give you back your words. You’ll need your hands, so I’ll leave with your touch gently caressing my heart. Everything else belonged to the world anyway.

Of Nature and Desire

Concentrically narrowing foliage chokes my optimism with caution. Thorns and petals stalk my path to a less humid endeavors. But this is how truth hides, just beyond the greenery withering in all of us.

The canopy has levels that reveal light one shard at a time, until your above the tangle of vines where there is no forest floor. All you see is beauty framed by heaven as fresh air wisps away the rot decaying below.

If only I could fly away to stone. An edifice imagined. Stolid and thoughtful granite curves that time hides. Water cascades over the riffs she’s etched in my strength. Sun glistens on the darkness creating black rainbows in the mist, and lichen warms the crevices of my souls.

The beauty of this carnage we call nature is odd, like love it takes great pains and grows with time, only to be passed on to the budding life below. The tallest trees see it while taking warmth from above, mocking us as their roots draw from our strength. Their saplings without us withering in the clutches of vines, but it’s beauty to the naive.

Life is a beautiful struggle between our nature and our ideals, between our needs and desires. Inside us the biological and psychological battles constantly feed on us like the worms that till our soul, but all we see are faces as we paint our landscape with beauty.

American People

Does feminism fail due to the nurturing nature of the female. We all have heard cliches. Maternal instinct, which of late it seems just as many men have. Woman are more compassionate, I would argue sympathetic, a loathsome emotional response. Some folks would argue that woman are more in touch with their emotions. Feminist would be violently opposed to these cliches because they’re just people.

The confusing thing to me is that the feminist movement has rode these waves of momentum then got swept up in another groups struggle. The 60’s and 70’s they burnt bras when it meant something. Then they were sucked into the civil rights compactor and spit out for a seat in the back of the bus.

In the 80’s and 90’s they got so mixed up with the gay movement it was hard to tell who was a boy and who was a girl, if there are still genders. The glass ceiling was shattered by a few woman emotionally pretending to be male, but Elizabeth Dole disappeared, I assume back to the pineapple plantation.

Now we’re here again, more radical then ever. Female Senators, movie producers, star athletes; woman are attaining whatever their hearts or minds desire. We have astronauts, infantry woman in the Army, even a slew of woman fighter pilots. We passed on the female president this cycle because it was the wrong woman at the right time.

Now the feminist women are sounding off about rape culture. They will stop at nothing until any characteristic considered male is eliminated from the human emotional lexicon. If a boy on a campus sees a girl dressed nice with a strong feminine presence and tells his buddy he’d like to sleep with her, he’s a criminal. Woman have conquered every endeavor so now they have to eliminate any characteristic that’s considered masculine.

This phase will meld into some other groups cause soon and the feminist silence will be heard in the black lives matter group, or the gender of the day folks, or the emerging survival of……, folks. This falls into the old “fool me once” euphemism. The progressive movement has been using woman as a tool of advancement for decades and putting them back in the tool box when their intermediate goals were achieved.

The truth is that we did not transition well from the phase of woman as homemakers to woman as working partners. These folks saw that and exploited it as a disrespect to woman. It was never about disrespect, it was about confusion. The whole child care industry was developed out of this confusion. Out of this confusion the role of parents and the role of men and woman got confused, and for some still is.

This shit about rape culture today is the new exploitation. There are men, (and woman) out there that view others as objects. Men that take pleasure out of victimizing or demoralizing woman for their own esteem. Most American Men abhor this behavior and that’s the single reason it happens in silence. Because any Red Blooded American Male who saw this type of behavior in a friend would put it in check. We respect woman, we’re not the enemy.

So it seemed for this round of feminist fame we’ll have to throw it back at ya. We (men and boys) have a right to be masculine and wear muscle shirts with tight jeans without being stared at for our reproductive prowess just as much as you have a right to wear short skirts and blouses without being judged for your birthing hips. We are meant to be mutually respectful of each other and no movement, religion, or government should interfere with that.

Just because someone isn’t respected for being gay doesn’t mean masculinity is evil. Just because a woman didn’t get elected president doesn’t mean misogyny is the American norm. Just because single mothers struggle doesn’t mean nuclear families are threatening. The divisions created are endless and fabricated illusions.

Most Americans look at each other as people. Plain and simple. Don’t be fooled by idiots with a cause. Feminism and American are synonymous, and American woman are people, like American men. Always struggling for the underdog. Reaching all corners of the earth for human rights. To say otherwise is a lie and disrespecting the American character.

Don’t worry though, feminism and Americanism will remain synonymous no matter who tries to divide us. We’ll have a woman president one day also. When we do, watch out because the American woman has a history of standing up for the downtrodden. From the slaves, to the oppressed, to the displaced she has been keeping America strong in its efforts to be the shining city on the hill, and her men stand behind her ready to fight right alongside her if you get in her way.

Drifter

I sat before eternity silent
No answers did I seek
Listening for the future
To gently kiss my cheek

Being everywhere but nowhere
A space outside of time
Lacked color or purpose
Living in the sublime.

So I stood up and brushed my pants
And walked towards the crossroad
Where I felt a better chance.

And in the distant dust loud
Just behind the ochre road
Death rumbled in the clouds

Not one to take the middle road
I walked with open eyes
An ever slowing pace
Towards ever changing skies

I walked through the mirage,
And into the heat of day
Gathering the colors of life
For when the skies turn gray

The end of the earth is a lie
For fools who dream
Or ask themselves why

There are no rhymes for reason
To hold the truth alight
Just changes of the seasons
Stretching day to night

Making sense

I can touch with my spirit. My spiritual hand wisps across consciousness like smoke from a fire.

My minds eye stares through the physical realm as you begin to evanesce and intentions older than time reveal the aurora within.

I hear the tears of history raining down on barren fields crying out for an ocean of love within the peace of a raindrop flooding humanity.

I’ve tasted your world and it’s plastic attempts at recreating nature. It’s just texture to chew on while the mind reflects on the succulent joy of flesh and bone, bark and sap, mixed with blood and air to replenish the earth.

My sense of smell warns me the path of men is no place for a man and within mankind there is ignorance. It’s the man, not men, who stand alone with the wind in their face who stoically avoid the fetid intentions of the pack gone rogue.

I think, therefore I am is an eternal beacon to remind us to make sense, use sense, and be sense within a world gone mad. Ancient winds remind us we can touch without hands, see without eyes , and taste without our mouth. We can hear the world without ears and smell death without flared nostrils. The world is within us, all we have to make sense to feel it.

Kill Boomer

Boomer, what an asshole. Nobody ever really liked him. He was some quasi hippie/Brady kid who ended up taking a corporate position where he bought into the “American Dream” mostly to be cool, or know someone who he could feed off. He never was a hippie, but went to “Woodstock” on money he borrowed from his parents cause he heard everyone would get laid.

The problem with “Boomer” is he’s a pariah. He isn’t a leader, rather a follower with enough dollars and status to have a say. Begrudgingly the avant guard tolerates him for the mutual benefit, he becomes wealthier and more powerful and they gain some legitimacy.

I got this headache reading an article on “Trump” not hearing the music. I knew the deal as soon as he kept mentioning “Dylan” and the Nobel literature prize. By now, due to Nobel board members confessing, we know there is a political consideration that goes with winning this award. After Obama won his it was obvious that the award was sometimes awarded for what the Nobel committee hoped the recipient would accomplish. So in the end the prize is part of the avant guard’s movemen to influence culture in countries they’ve never visited, except vicariously.

Boomer isn’t interested in the prize. He’s more interested in influencing who gets the award. Then he’ll hold that award over the recipients head and coerce him /her into attending parties where the recipient can elevate the influence Boomer has over the award they’re having the celebration for. It’s always about Boomer.

By now, Boomer has influenced hippies, yuppies, techies and any other “ie” you can imagine. He sits atop an imaginary throne in a housecoat looking at the photo’s in old issues of his Playboy collection dreaming he was a young man when Marilyn was still high.

This “liberal” movement has an unchanging history of some quasi. Socialist utopia where everyone can paint, sculpt, or play in a band. There is no money, folks barter with wine and “doobies” for sex and services. Like the guy from Canada who started this rant with his article, they all would live in a community named Habitat 101 and share common fallacies by dragging up ancient philosophies and twisting them into a yoga that only celebrates how you can contort your body.

The danger of Boomer is he’s still alive. We should have kept Abraham, Martin, and John and laid waste to Boomer. We all would be chanting to a different chakra today.

Anyway, watch out for this dude. He morphs easily into many different forms. If you see him hit the gas or give him a shove on the escalator. If you need an alibi call me. I’ll testify he was just an old guy to slow to get out of everyone’s way. I’ll tell them I was afraid this would happen because he rarely considered his actions past the effect they had on himself, and therefore put an enormous strain on his cou… I mean friends, if you could call them that. I’ll testify he has made enemies of his friends, but bought favor, therefore creating an infinite number of enemies.

Once he’s gone we can reign in the avant guard and put them in some art therapy classes in a community we’ll call habitat 69. We can paint the wall around it psychedelic and hand out some “window pane” for breakfast. Then we can finally appease these idiots without too much undue stress on our trip.