Tribal Warfare

What I predict for the short future:
escalations in the Arab regions will eventually plummet the world into terrible factions.
There may be more than two groups, but ultimately it would break down to two groups. I see one separation being Muslims and non-Muslims.
At that point with emminant warfare ... nuclear weapons would be employed breaking the population into scattered parts. Presently the world sees the US as, gennerally a bully. The arab world is unstable and with instability comes war.
With war, unending, there is a "winning" solution, nuclear warfare wherein your "side" could "win" by having the greatest number of population not immediately killed or (17th-18th century concept) winning by holding the ground -- area of contest.

I would predict this to be within 22 years, unless stability within the arab regions and the US improve. The US is too petty with partisan battles to realize that spending money abroad, especially in the arab region doesn't bring money back to us. The last many administrations and congresses and senates have not spent money domestically for many improvements.

Welfare -- gennerally doesn't work and needs -- trashcanned in favor of a new system. Overpopulation in the jails & prisons can be simplified as per person expenditure well exceeds anything spent on welfare.
Too many poeple -- too few exectutions. A more proactive, pre-emptive strike on groups, like proposed by the administration could limit the money presently spent.

Crime, now an adult, can be controlled with selective striking so that no other generations will go on. This will ultimately appear to be another tribal conflict being of the poor versus the rich.

It was long in coming.

You know what makes you gay?

[this is funnier if you saw 40 Year Old Virgin]

That Fine Young Cannibals dance of leap froggin you did!
Shane Johns -- wierd turned to gay

Stories of hide and seek with male roommate when showering. Gross, nasty, eww! Later had gay child porn...

wow (Ben Stein voice here)

Names will hurt you

Whuh! -- a name given to someone who was, well, with a large posterior before it was hip.
Fffpppttt (fart sound) -- from her stupid, criminal-esque boyfriend

More later

short bits about "Wilma" or Kleenex as I call her

first ... that isn't the real name, but the pseudonym will be used throughout:

Wilma is living with one or two guys at the time that she is introduced to our group. It was my understanding that she was "sleeping" with one, but ended that, then was "sleeping" with the other.

At this time she met Scott. He had her over, not really knowing what a ciniving witch she was. She flirted with Monkeyjack. She then was with ISJ, similtaneously with Scott. She met up with MR and that was three of our group. She expressed interest in Krista too.

Now that you have a bit of an understanding, here comes the the relationship part. There were factions going on him against him or them ... oi! It was ugly! We were petty and it brought division and 'betrayl' to the group. In the end, the group was weaker but alive. The intruder is ridiculed, but there was a lesson in it ... keep friends true.

The flake and fake -- nasty character is still in town, but I think wise enough to know she isn't liked.

I was out of the mix -- I was intersted in her -- momentarily, but she wasn't in me. All the better, perhaps.

Legends of the Fall

More stupid things I miraculously survived:

Climbing up a ladder and trying to duplicate coyote running in mid-air, then falling onto not-so cushy lawn furniture pads.

Swinging on vines in the local woods -- including having it snap mid-swing, sending me falling 8' onto my back.

In the same woods, firing randomly at things. I fired at a tree, the bb hit something and it came up to my eye -- within an inch, then fell to the ground. I was convinced that day of the phrase, "You'll shoot your eye out!"

Bumper skiing with a person who doesn't tend to stop if you've fallen.

Ridning on the backs of cars
Riding in the non-existent trunk of a Fiero (hot engine that I had to avoid touching), so the trunk was open and I rode in it until a stop sign, over hills and bumps. I was desperate to get out -- I nearly left it while the car was moving.

Mixing a batch of alcohol and water so that I could hold fire! I didn't actually get burnt with this, but it was stupid. On the same day, I blew up a butane lighter I found.

Deja Vu

and my lust for lust

Also downtown was a 18+ (no alcohol) strip club. I did like going here and it was about 1 block from the Other Side.

Deja Vu was a chain, headquartered in Flint, MI (later dismantled by stupidity). It was tied to the mob, a woman manager (undercover officer) finally got access to files, linking illegal funding (laundering of monies), thus closing all the clubs.

While in I business, I was keeping it in business. I spent / wasted lots of money there on strippers feeding my lust, but not fedding my lust -- I didn't ask for anything extra, and they weren't going to give it away -- nor accept if I was stupid enough to give to them without it. Suffice to say -- (approximate figure) $5000, perhaps went to that place. What a waste!
Despite all of that, I can say that I never had "relations" with any prostitute.

This was about an 18 month habit. After that -- I was done with it.

My then-sister's-fiance wanted a bachelor party. His friends, one of my brothers-in-law and I went out to such establishments. They found it comical that the strippers knew my name -- many of them. They all just looked at, whom they thought was a clean cut guy -- in shock.

My lesson: it ain't worth it.

take me to the Other Side -- not!

This here's a tale of some frinds who were duped.

There was a closet homosexual, or at least I didn't know he was at the time and an openly bi-sexual woman (her tale will be told later, hopefully through the many sources MR, Scott, Monkeyjack, & others, maybe).

These people I will give -- pseudonyms: Fred and Wilma
Monkeyjack was with me when Fred mentioned there was bar that people 18+ could enter. I thought it odd, but went along with it. It was downtown, which should have been a clue. Wilma drove in her compact manual.

We arrive at The Other Side. This wasn't too secretive if you knew the inside. We walk up to the door, several couples are leaving. One runs out and effeniantly calls out, "Wait! I forgot my purse!" This guy was a fellow graduate whom many thought was gay. It turns out that he certain was at this time in his life.

We enter -- I was homophobic and rather nasty about my dislike and pronounced hate of gays. All step further didn't make the night better. Fred paid, then Wilma paid the cover charge.
Monkeyjack walked up and dolled out a $20. It was at this time that the cashier was clearly high. He made no response to the $20. Slowly, he recognized it as money, but had to search 4 minutes to not find change. He asked someone near him for change. It was painful to wait for the stupid guy.
I walked up and handed him another twenty. Forgetting that he looked before, he routinely looked in the same places, and also had blank periods on non-movement. Finally he called over someone for change, having not found enough in the cigarette box in his sleeve (50s look).
We proceed and Fred hands each of us a drink.

What the ____ is this, I thought. I held it not wanting to drink it, thinking that getting drunk wasn't the wisest of choices. The further we went, not a well kept place, by any means, we go to the main room, somewhat divided into seating and dancing.
We sat.
I looked around and saw, typically people talking and dancing. A guy was dancing by himself wearing a purse, others were group dancing -- charming.
At one table I saw women around my age at that time ... cute, neat

they kiss
[next]
We sit there and I'm very uncomfortable. By now I have slugged the drink and wanted to leave. Monkeyjack, not as uncomfortable as me, wasn't ready to leave. The time we went wasn't random. The floor show started around 15 minutes after we arrived.

Before that, I had to whiz. I wasn't sure about that. I was happy that there wasn't a long line of urinals nor stalls. Perhaps, it was more horrifying. There was a men's and women's. In the mens was an airline size restroom. It had a toilet and an undersized sink. The door had a thin interior door and a screen door. God knows why -- better not to speculate.
The wood door didn't have a lock. I did lock the screen door with the nice hook
With my back / butt to the screen I used the toilet as quickly as possible. Faster, must pee faster!
Stupidly, I felt so uneasy, I pulled out a boxcutter from work ... cutter in one hand, putter in the other. I finished and rinsed in icelandic cold water -- sans soap.

I returned to my seat mortified.
The floor show started. I looked for about ... 2.2 seconds. That was long enough to see a red sequinned something, I think with a blonde wig. I stared at the table for the rest of the time.
Wilma had expounded later on how she was jealous of their legs, these dancers, drag queens.

The lip-syncer was walking around, singing and I understand, nearly sat on me. Monkeyjack grabbed my chair -- saving everyone from a nasty battle scene. At that moment, I didn't mind being Monkeyjack's b____. After that singer, I left asking absolutely no questions -- hurriedly, angerly!
Monkeyjack called after me ... "wait!" I wasn't. "Wait!" No ________ way! He caught up to me with ... importantly, keys!

"Can you drive a manual?"
"Yes." What I failed to complete was "badly, terribly, not really."
I stall it 15 times trying to reverse.
I stall it 20 more times going back to Monkeyjack's house.
I never took it out of 2nd ... ouch!

I would have felt bad about it, except she was a nasty little character ... deceiving, lying, using (more later on "Wilma")

I picked up the two in my car, about 90 minutes later when they called.
Bad evening, but one from which I wasn't hurt or harmed, just scarred a bit.