Welcome Back, ME…. I guess

Well, here I am again.  Miss me, anyone?  I thought not.

It seemed like things were going well.  I thought I was doing better

Come to find out, I was wrong.

March has been a bad month for me for a long time.  My father’s whole fucked up death and afterwards happened in March.  St Patrick’s Day, to be specific.  I used to avoid green on purpose and dare anyone to pinch me.  It used to be really bad.  It seemed to me this year that things were going swimmingly.  I wasn’t fixated.  My mind didn’t drift back.  Again, though, I was wrong.  Meg informed me that I did go off my rocker, pretty much from February to April.  I started feeling a little better in May.  I pretty much had stopped eating.  I was back down to the 160’s.  I stopped sleeping.  I stopped lifting weights and throwing darts and taking walks.  I didn’t realize it as it was happening, only in hindsight.

I was teaching a class at a local mission and that was taken from me.  There were “going in a different direction.”

So….pretty much….here I am….”stuck in the middle again.”

I have a new psychologist.  Br. Bob.  He’s a cool old dude.  Very frumpy, as cool old psychologists should be.  He’s helping me see some interesting concepts.  A funny thing happened recently.  Dr. Bob knows of my relationship with martial arts and he quote a karate Master, Masumatsu Oyama, to me.  I know of Mas Oyama.  He was my sensai’s sensai.  Funny how things are connected.


I was watching Judge Judy today and these two dude’s were opposing each other.  The case revolved around damage to a vehicle in a parking lot at the local MENSA place.  Okey-doke.  I know it sounds weird.  What am I supposed to do?  Don’t blame me for the material.  I don’t make the rules.  I just enjoy mocking them.

Anyway, I started wondering about MENSA.  Just for the hell of it, you know?  I mean, I know it is for geniuses (geniae?  That sounds Latin enough for me.)  What, exactly, are the requirements, through?  How high must someone’s IQ be?  I looked up MENSA and I think it said that the IQ had to be in the top two percentile.  It really doesn’t matter for this story.

There was this MENSA self-test on the website I decided to take.  They said it was NOT and IQ test and it in no way affected one’s ability to be a member.  I was a for-fun, just to see how one could do.  30 questions.  30 minutes.

I began.  After finishing I awaited my grade.  17 out of 30.  I looked over the questions.  Upon consideration, I took it upon myself to upgrade my score to 21 out of 30.

I told this to Meg and she laughed at me.  I explained.  I had legitimate arguments regarding wanting to see their math, proposing an existing but alternate pattern in numbers that substantiated my answer, vague directions and one, well….one that I just misread the question BUT, I had the right theory and, if I HAD padi closer attention, which I would have done if I were being tested FOR REAL, then I WOULD have discerned the “correct”response; therefore, I gave that one to myself, also.

SO.  FOUR more!  See, Meg?

“Maybe,” she said, “they purposefully made the directions vague because a genius would be able to utilize vague directions.”  She seemed quite smug.

“Maybe they did,” I responded, undaunted. “MAYBE,” I continued, “that that, in itself, is THE test.  Maybe MENSA wants to see who has the BALLS to say to them, ‘Hey, wait a second,’ because it is the mark of a REAL genius to stand up to authority and say, ‘NO, you’re wrong.’  You know.  Dude’s like Copernicus and Socrates and Don Quixote.  I think I have a legitimate argument.  I think they should let me make it to them.  I think they will let me in just for thinking of it.  What do you think?”

Meg laughed a little and then said, “I think you’re probably right, Jay.”  I wonder.  Was she just placating me? <pondering>  NAH, couldn’t be.  She has just been around me long enough to know that I really am that damn good.

Ready for this, ladies? MEN SUCK!

First, I am at a disadvantage.  I was all ready to be riled up, but I put on some music and The Black Crows “She Talks To Angels” came up.  I mean, come on…. how can someone be riled up with this bluesy lick in the background?

Anyway, I reckon it’s for the best.  I was mad…really angry.

Despite the flush we experienced in Charleston, things are tighter here in Cincinnati.

** I have come up with a saying that is apropo, as I live here now:  “Cincinnati- the city that’s SO BAD they put “cin” in the name twice.”

Anyway, we go to food banks…. meaning, Meg goes to food banks.  I was down with TB for most of the time we have been here and that fell to her.

Now, let me take a break right here to talk about the Way Things Are.  I started really getting sick in WV.  I got to where I didn’t like to go out at all.  No one had any idea what was happening, but I felt bad most of the time.  When we moved here things were about the same with me but, over time and as money depleted, we had to consider Food Pantries.  By that time I felt bad all the time.  Meg would be the one to go.

Then, I was hospitalized in June with tb and pneumonia, which deteriorated to renal failure.  After that, for five long months I sat in our apartment but was on “Respiratory Isolation.”  I couldn’t go anywhere without wearing a mask, which I would not do, so I went nowhere.

I also felt like refried-shit.  I could barely climb the stairs to our apartment without coughing until the point of vomiting.

That went on for a while and, over time, I realized, once again, that people are the same everywhere.

So, Meg has been going to Food Pantries.  So, once again, when she goes, fucking IDIOT males ( and I say “males” because they don’t deserve to be called “men”) think that, because she is alone, she must WAN’t to talk to them.  OF COURSE!  I mean, why else would a woman go to a food bank…or a plasma center… if not to meet a random, poor loser?  THAT must be why they all want to talk to her.

I mean, make no mistake.  I am very fortunate.  Heh heh heh-  Meg is definitely noticeable and worthy of attention.  But at the fucking Food Bank?  Are you fucking kidding?

This morning she went to one.  A dick, who has followed her around at the same one previously, was there again.  Apparently, he seems to go from woman to woman, trying to start conversations until he gets a hit.  So, he tried to sidle up to Meg again this morning.  He was politely rebuffed.

But here is my problem:  I am just mother-fucking SICK of these dickwads posting up on MY GIRL.  They wouldn’t show their faces if I were there.  But they think that they are safe?  And the bullshit part is that they ARE safe!

Let’s say I go to that same Food Bank with Meg next time.  Let’s say that, seeing as how no one in authority there is willing to say anything to this bottom-feeder, I lumber up to him, introduce myself and politely suggest that he cease trying to chat up my wife.  I would be “The Bad Guy.”

I have come to see myself differently recently.  It seems that I am gruff and intimidating.  I can see that… I reckon… heh heh heh

It’s not that I think some loser at a Food Ban is going to entice my girl.  Are you fucking kidding?  It’s far more the matter that “men” nowadays have no sense of “respect” and I have been told that TEACHING someone “respect” is….well….illegal.  What a bunch of pussies?

I wish I could challenge someone to a fucking duel. Just climb down into The Pit, like the good ole day, right?

I don’t think it’s fair.  FINE- tell me I can’t beat the shit out of someone because doing so “is not civilized”… but then keep me from intimidating people, too?  That’s not fair.

I hate the ASPCA

I have been around animals all of my life.  My mother, which means ME, started working in an animal shelter when I was 5 years old.  I have held more cats and dogs that most people can fathom.  I have cared for more species of animals than most can imagine.  I love animals and have spent my life trying to be good to them.

Now, I am sure all of us have seen those commercials of pathetic animals in ASPCA commercials.  My heart breaks for them and I want to cry when I see it.

SELAH on that for a minute….. I have two dogs, both just scooped up from ads.  They have their shots.  They eat well and plenty every day.  Meg and I play with them, snuggle with them, rub them, kiss them…. all of the stuff that animal-lovers will understand.

Meanwhile, as anyone who has read my blogs knows, I am butt-loaded with issues.

I am doing everything I can to help WHERE I can, which are my two dogs.  Then, I see this pathetic commercial begging for money.  I get it.  I understand that charities need to beg.  I get that.  But, wtf?  Do they not even THINK about the impact their commercials have on responsible owners, doing all they ca, or do they just not care?  “This may fuck some people up but…HEY, it’s for the animals, right?”

NO.  Fuck that.  I love animals and I know they are important but who the fuck is the ASPCA to try to guilt and shame people into giving money they don’t have?

Then, the pieces of shit only give a few NY numbers on their website and just DON’T answer their phones.

So, all I have to go on is what I know after the efforts I have made.

FUCK the ASPCA!  Just a bunch of fucking wanna-feel-good morons who don’t give a rip about LIVES, generally…. just ANIMAL lives and, if a few humans get fucked up along the way…oh well.

If you’re gonna have the guts to send out a “message” to a few million folks just innocently watching their televisions, have the fortitude to answer your phones and address the public you are begging from instead of putting yourselves on some kind of unassailable pedestal, thinking that YOUR cause is so apparent that no explanation or justification need be offered, you arrogant, self-absorbed and self-serving fuckwads.

What a glorious day

I WOULD start off by saying that most people would’t “get” this, but I know that about TWO people read my blog so I am confident that it will make sense.

YAY for me!  I have been validated.  Today I was OFFICIALLY diagnosed with PTSD.  Finally, I don’t have to deal with being dismissed because I am not a veteran.  No, I have never been a part of the US military and have not been a part of a “war.”  My whole fucking life has been a war.  I don’t have to feel like shit, like I am trying to co-opt some issue.

I can’t explain the weight that takes off me.  I know… I know…. Meg tells me all the time.  I shouldn’t be worried about what other people think.  To me that’s like telling a diabetic to ignore his blood sugar.  Ridiculous.  Finally, someone with acknowledged bona fides (that’s Latin) is confirming what I have known for a long time so no one (whether in my head or not) can accuse me, even if it be only with their eyes.

OH!  Don’t think I can’t read your eyes…..a turn of your mouth….a shift in your body.  I see it.  I SEE IT ALL!  Fuckers.  I am kidding…. not really.

Then I saw my pulmonologist: a nice Antonio Banderas looking dude from Romania.  He, more than anyone, has convinced me, after 40 years, to stop smoking.  I am, just today, entering my fist REAL attemot to stop.  Not because I “should”, but because I want to.  For the fisrt time in my life I WANT to live.  Previously, I didn’t care.  “You’re a young man with many years ahead of you,” he says.  Well, I don’t know about MANY.  I have abused my body for a long time.  But, maybe….. at least a few more.  I got shit to do yet.

Then I have this faggoty psych intern…. yep, I sense a little sugar-in-the-tank….but, you know what?  It doesn’t matter.  He is a decent guy and he seems genuinely to want to be helpful.  So, I reckon he is not a fag… maybe just gay, which is fine.  I just hate those fuckers who make it everything about everything.  What an asshole I would be if I walked around every day saying, “I FUCK WOMEN!” right?  Let’s just do what we do and leave our sexuality at the door.

Anyway, it’s a good day.

If you cant’ dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit

I have an issue… a BIG issue.  I am sick of people who don’t know SHIT trying to convince me that their failures are my fault.

Let’s start with Meg, my wife.  Hold on, Sports Fans… no need to worry.

I started this blog a long time ago with one premise:  This is for ME- for ME to vent my issues.  I ain’t doing it for anyone else.  I am not trying to make this some sort of indirect explanation of my feelings to make other people feel good.  If someone reading this doesn’t like what I say, well… too fucking bad for you.  Meg stopped following my blog a long time ago because she was tired of reading my complaints.  I told her, “Fine… stop, because I will NOT make MY blog something digestible for you.  This is MY blog…MINE.”

She has issues with passive-aggression.  She won’t address them.  I won’t tolerate them.  I have no problem with direct confrontation.  I have a BIG problem with anyone their bleeding their feelings on me and trying to make it my fault when they don’t have the guts to address their own issues.  She tries to use these passive-aggressive tactics against me thinking, I guess, that I am too stupid to notice them.  WRONG.  If someone has something to say, say it.  period.  The end.  Sidways comments are not appreciated.

I have tried numerous time to discuss this with her reasonably.  She refuses to hear anything I say.  Then, backed into a corner, I finally get nasty about it and she runs off crying, saying,  “I can’t hear you when you are nasty.”  So, she WON’T hear me when I am decent, but she CAN’T hear me when I am nasty.  What can I do?  She has a nasty tome when she speaks, but won’t deal with it.  She has ADMITTED that she has these issues, but does nothing to deal with them, choosing rather to blame me for my reaction to them.  She throws pennies at the bear and then whines when the bear finally says, “ENOUGH!”  If she dislikes the reaction she gets from throwing pennies, she ought stop throwing them to begin with.  She refuses to see the cumulative effect that 1,000 pennies cause, blaming me for reacting to the LAST penny she threw.

She also abuses the knowledge that she has of my mental shit.  She discounts everything I say.  “Well…. that’s just your PTSD.”  I have the right to be angry at unreasonable situations without her excusing her behavior by blaming me for it.”  I have asked her, “Give me an example of me doing that.”  Her response, “Well, I can’t give you a specific example.”  Do i look like a congressional fucking committee on porn?  “I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.”  How am I suppose to fix something I do when she cannot tell me what I do?  Bullshit!  She is vacillating so she can continue blaming me.

I am suppose to follow certain rules she has laid down.  Don’t yell.  Don’t call names.  Yet, she violates them whenever she wants to.  She has NO CLUE how to converse.  She seems to think that the equation is “fuck up and apologize.”  Numerous times she has said stuff like, “I wish you would go ahead and die so I won’t have to deal with you anymore.”  Then she apologizes and think the slate is clean.  Then, she says it again.  But I am supposed to be decent in the midst of that.  Fuck that.  I am sick of trying to deal with my issues just so they can be used against me.  Every method I try is demeaned.

I am done with this.  From now on, if she provokes The Bear, she will get The Bear- and I refuse to apologize.  I am only responsible for leading a horse to water.  She wants to lay every issue at the feet of my anger?  Then anger is what she will get.  I won’t bear the burden of her mental issues while she does nothing to deal with them.  Just yesterday, after me telling her for MONTHS and YEARS that she has issues with passive-aggression, she told me she has not even bothered to look it up.  She is not trying and I am sick of beating my head against a wall.

Also, as anyone reading this knows, I have TB and have for a ling time.  It almost killed me.  I am getting good care from the county I live in but I have this one nurse who is such a load of shit it is unbelievable.  Just today she “tried” to “explain” to me that I just don’t have any idea how specialist work, that my expectations are unreasonable.

Really?  I have no understanding and need you to explain it to me?  Hmmm… let me see.  TB doctors are specialist.  Ok.  How about Nuclear Cardiologists?  Are they “specialist?”  Do orthopedic surgeons qualify as specialists?  Reproductive Endocrinologists?  Do they meet your slightly-better-than-average education?  I have dealt with them all.  I know how things work.  So, FUCK YOU for thinking you need to ‘splain things to me.  Especially when you have proven yourself incompetent.

You will NOT blame me for your inabilities.

She tells me that my doctor will be upset that I haven’t provided a blood sample in months.  Oh, I tried.  They have stuck me at least seven times fruitlessly.  “Well, you are not an easy stick.”  Again, I call BULLSHIT.  I have had eight or nine surgeries and been in the hospital weeks upon weeks when people come in at any hour and need blood.  No problem.  I have donated for the Red Cross a dozen times and no problem.  I gave blood to be paid for plasma twice a week for three years and NO PROBLEM.  In fact, EVERYONE, until these morons, have talked about how GOOD my veins are.  So this bitch wants to pull up her sleeve and SHOW ME what good veins look like?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Literally, I was giving blood from my good veins when your mama was still picking out your clothes so I would appreciate it if you would just drink a nice, tall glass of “Shut The Fuck Up.”

I am willing to learn.  I am eager to learn.  I REFUSE, however, to be instructed by the ignorant.

If I toot my own horn, I am mean.  If I don’t, I am supposed to listen to the brightest stupid person tell me what I need to know.

Fuck them.  Fuck all of ’em.  Learn a little bit.  Edimucate ytourselves before you even THINK about instructing me.

I have tried to lay back.  I have done the work…. but I will NOT continue just so IDIOTS can trt to stand over me.

I am sick of it.  I have my shovel.  Kindly shut up and start digging.

I am DONE trying to be nice when the only result is me being taken advantage of.

Don’t like my anger?  Too bad.  Shoulda though about that BEFORE you opened your stupid mouth.

One of those days

There is no reason or pattern.  Sometimes my head just twists up.  Today is one of those days.

I was just sitting here, watching tv and minding my own business, when something on the show I was watching me dredged up a memory.  It wasn’t a good one.  It was something from my past that I am ashamed about.

Now it seems there is a wet blanket over my day.  I am not dwelling on that one thing.  It just seems like all of my thoughts have a melancholy to them  Nothing seems right.

How am I supposed to get out of this mess?  I know it will pass at some point, hopefully not in weeks like it used to be.  I guess I’ll throw some darts.  Open the blinds and turn on a light or two.  Who know?  Maybe I’ll get ambitious and take out the trash.

I’ll try to work up to that.  Right now, though, I just wanna sit here.

The sky is blue?????

omg…… OMG……..OMG!!!!!!!!  I am in trouble.  It’s going to be a horrible day.  Something just happened that I know is going to set me back days….weeks….MONTHS…….maybe YEARS!  That’s right.  I did it….the UNTHINKABLE!!!!! I watched The News on television.

Don’t try to make me feel better by reminding me that I only saw about 15 seconds of it before I was able to draw myself away from its seductively evil lure.  What do you do for fun?  Hang around outside AA meetings and tell recovering alcoholics that one drink isn’t that bad?  You people are horrible.

J/k….JA! JA! (now, not a typing error).  I’m fine.  I did see some news on television but, having been away from it so long, I saw the absurdity and just laugh and change the channel rather than becoming worked up by it.  So… Obama is going to bomb Syria now.  No “boots on the ground,” though.  THAT’s a good thing.  LOL.  Right.  I think I’ve heard that mantra before.  Stupid, stupid, stupid,

I hear that the government is on the verge of shutting down.  People are biting their nails, wondering if Congress will be able to resolve things before we have to close the doors at national parks and stuff.  They should close the doors of the House and Senate, first, but what are the changes that our trusted and honorable won’t figure out a way to keep paying themselves at the expense of our…..what?   great-great-great-great grandchildren by now?  Good thing I only have dogs.  Besides, the world won’t last that long.  The A-PuckerLips is happening WAY before then.  I am in an online “pool” for when society will actually collapse and I drew next Tuesday.  I get DOUBLE if it happens between 10AM- Noon Eastern, which works for me because Maury and Jerry Springer will both be over by then and Marilyn Milian’s cases only take about 20 minutes on “The People’s Court.”  I’d settle for after 6:30 PM, too, since that would allow me to see three more brand new “Judge Judy”’s.

In Indiana (I think) four firefighters had to remove patriotic stickers from their lockers.  One sticker was a Marine Corp logo the guy’s father, a former firefighter for 26 years, had put on the SAME locker more than 30 years ago.  Now, normally this kind of thing would bother me but THIS time I think it is perfect dramatic irony.  The men were ordered to remove the stickers.  They refused.  They were suspended.  They have since been reinstated due to the uproar that the situation created.  People were furious that HERE, in America, firefighters who put their lives on the line daily, can been suspended for putting a sticker of an American flag?

Hold on there, Kimosabe…. don’t get ahead of yourself because this is where it gets funny.  The REASON the order came down to remove the sticker stemmed from allegations of RACISM years ago when another firefighter, attempting to harass a colleague about smoking, taped a picture of a monkey smoking a cigarette on his friend’s locker.

That’s what happens when the accusation of “racism” is so frequently leveled simply to inflame the issue with no basis in fact.  I was watching a JUDGE show the other day and a 20 year veteran cop was accused of “racial profiling” and had to endure a year long investigation because on a traffic citation for Speeding the cop misidentified a man of Iranian heritage as “Hispanic” in the RACE blank on the ticket.

See, now THAT’s crazy.  The TRUTH is that we Crazy folk are the ones who see how things really are and “normal” people are the ones who are fucked up.  We’re just outnumbers.  “History is written by the victors.”  What is “crazy” to me is the thought of living a life that has no meaning.  “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.”  I don’t believe that most people are happy.  It is the destiny of Man.  I believe that the only thing that can truly gives a person PEACE is a relationship with GOD.  Most people don’t want to believe that.  Not really BELIEVE.  “You believe GOD is one.  You do well; the demons also believe, and shudder.”  -James 2:19.  I think that the entirety of the Bible proves that Man will also try to make himself a god rather than BELIEVE.  It’s not their fault.  None of us have that ability on our own.  Every single person ever born, except Jesus, was doomed for eternity by Adam decision to disobey GOD.  He was the only one who ever had “free will.”  The rest of us are slaves to that sinful nature but by the grace of GOD.

A part of me harbors the theory that maybe GOD made me so “different” just so I can say some “crazy sounding shit” that most people KNOW is true but either don’t want to admit to themselves or isn’t polite for public conversation.  Could be… true, right?  Ask Balaam.  Heh heh heh.  I have been told more than once in the workplace that I was no longer allowed to discuss politics or religion.  Jack Nicholson was right:  People can’t handle the truth.  “I’m not being ‘arrogant.’  I’m being honest.”  I very smart person I know says that (or something like it <Know what I mean? Know what I mean?…..(wink-wink)…..(nudge-nudge)…>… {yes, she is a “goer.”}

See what I mean?  It’s gonna be a Spidoinklely Day.  I smell baked potato.

Heh heh heh…some of you won’t like this one

Meg works a job in which all she hears all day is people complaining.  Now, I am not against making complaints when someone does a poor job, but COME ON, people.  If someone is going to complain, make it GOOD.  Complain about something that makes a little sense.  Complain about something REAL!

I think most people complain because they like being miserable and they have too much time on their hands.  Take old people, for example.  CONGRATULATIONS!  You managed to make it to 65 and then CHOSE to “retire” and now complain that you are “on a fixed income.”  Guess what, dickweeds… MOST people are on “fixed incomes.”  I don’t know anyone who can walk up to their boss and say, “Just to let you know, I plan of working overtime this week so budget me more money” or “I think I need a raise so bump me up 20%.”  MOST people work and hourly wage for a fixed number of hours or are on a salary.  That means their income does not change, ergo, they are on a “fixed income.”

 Let’s forget that when Social Security was passed the average life expectancy was 60 years old.  Let’s forget that more people were supposed to pay in than lived long enough to collect it.  Who cares about “facts”?  The current mentality is, “I paid for it.  I am OWED it.”  Sorry friend.  You paid JACK.  The money the current geezers paid was to ignore the “facts” while the life expectancy continued to increase and no one had the balls to raise the retirement age.  The money the current geezers get as a reward for breathing is the money that Meg works hard for now.  There is no “Social Security Lockbox.”  That concept went out the window when politicians realized they could addict groups to the public teat.  Now politicians just buy votes by strategically spending money that gets the most bang for the buck.

Which brings me back to my original point:  which group has the highest regular turnout?  Old People.  It’s not like they have to work or anything.  THEY’RE RETIRED.  Too much time on their hands to think about how spoiled kids are now-a-days or how things aren’t like they used to be or how they could go into a store with a quarter and leave with a week’s worth of groceries….AND CHANGE!  Too much time to use a computer to email a complaint to a company on a computer saying that they, as old people are being discriminated against because not all old people can use computers.  Really?  Who wrote the email, asshole?  The mouse in your pocket?  Too much time to think abut how their buying habits aren’t rewarded enough because, now that they are old, they can’t utilize all the benefits.  Guess what?  It’s a BENEFIT, not a right.  Have you live a long life?  Be happy you’re sucking wind and shut your pie-hole.  Know what they have plenty of time to do?  Organize and VOTE, which is why the country is going broke.  Don’t fuck with programs for old folks if you want to be re-elected.

It’s not their fault.  All of society is Pavlovian now:  wave some money and they all drool and beg.  It’s a whole new brand of slavery: post-modern feudalism.  Same old song and dance.  I watch court shows all the time and the mentality is showed and sometimes even admitted.  “I AM OWED” by someone.  “I was born this way…someone owes me.”  “I am old…someone owes me.”  I am a minority…someone owes me.” “I am woman, hear me roar..in numbers …”  wait…sorry, that was  Helen Reddy flashback.  My Mom really liked her… What a shock!

Anywhoooo….everyone thinks they are OWED.  Everyone thinks they DESERVE a piece of every pie.  It’s kind of disgusting.  Can I apply for a Child Tax Credit?  Biological children?  No, but I have my dogs and THEY are my children.  That should count in today’s touchy-feely fucked up mentality.  What? No tax credit because I don’t have to buy Pampers (fuck those old washable diapers…. I am OWED Pampers.)?  How about if I buy a monkey? They wear diapers.  god…..dammit….someone OWES me!  Where is Obama when you need him?  On vacation again?

What happened to our perseverance and industry?  Fuck all that!  It’s too much work, right?  We have become a nation of whiners.

Well, I reckon we oughta just get used to it.  I mean, we are too far gone when you have old people on “fixed incomes” complaining that they can’t afford to feed their cats PREMIUM canned catfood anymore because of the “price gouging.”  GET THE GOUGERS!  All of them….catfood…gasoline….whatever.  I think they are hiding behind the Grassy Knoll in the “alleged” Moon Landing shot.  No doubt, the secret Nazi base that was established there in the 40’s is involved somehow.