tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19317879554498706792024-03-19T04:06:00.283-07:00Rastafrican KamalohaThe no-mind not-thinks no-thoughts about no-things.DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-58406944629282523362018-07-10T00:03:00.000-07:002018-07-10T00:10:42.261-07:00My Children
Although there is a small part of me that on some conscious level wants to scream at my children...."Avenge ME!"
The reality is for most of the time that this world is fucked! Our president is fucked! Racial, sexual, spiritual (and the list goes on) tolerance (intolerance) is at an all time level of ridiculousness.
So my advice to you, Nicholas-Anjolia-Micah (and by extended lineage Timmy, DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-73889111540702104592018-04-07T23:03:00.000-07:002018-04-08T01:14:51.553-07:00The Ballad of the Bouncing Baby Boy
A dozen and some small change.
When I awoke the morning of the incident, none of my senses appeared
heightened in the least.
I was a child, full of innocence and relatively unaware of
my own mortality. Although memory is most often an erratic and unreliable scene
setting, I confidently recollect that the mortality of others, like my own, had
never even once crossed my conscious mind. DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-9162965433045368222018-04-06T23:11:00.001-07:002018-04-08T21:16:31.000-07:00Mi Musa y Mi Corazón
I once dug a shallow grave for myself because I was bored and had a shovel.
“¿Cómo estás haciendo amigo de mi imaginación?”
“Et tu Snuffaluffagus?” I confidently replied.
<!--EndFragment-->In this very same moment, in my mind's eye, I saw myself simultaneously serving as both the pallbearer at my own funeral as well as the eloquent and elegant clergy conducting the ceremony.
DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-34376288715884161392018-03-18T12:21:00.003-07:002018-03-18T12:31:38.015-07:00Ku-Jo and the Dancing FingersO to the MG!
I figured out how to get back into this account. Dare I say I am a genius. Sure, who's to stop me?
I recall when the ritual of writing was a daily transcendental experience. Almost like meditating but with my eyes open and my thoughts unhindered.
Why do people blog?
I think there are many people that feel as though they have something to say. Perhaps they do. That is not DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-5693279809596352542018-02-02T17:04:00.001-08:002018-02-02T17:04:07.018-08:00Sharper than a Spoon
Once upon a time there lived a very interesting conversation.
This very interesting conversation involved many different voices.
These many different voices within this very interesting conversation all sounded alike.
They were in fact the same voice which in turn added to the level of interestingness of this very interesting conversation.
However (pause for effect) since this very DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-1840967234816225502013-03-24T00:16:00.001-07:002013-03-24T00:16:04.306-07:00Wood Yuh LIK 2 Smile
My son just told me he was thirsty.
I said to myself, “This quest for liquid refreshment is
merely a ploy!” He read my mind and replied, “Dad, I’m really thirsty, I’m not
lying.”
His quick defense confirmed my assumption. Have you ever
felt that way? If you are a parent, I know you have. You see, the context
behind the content of his statement regarding a simple request for a glass of
DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-31430899052289041932012-10-12T17:01:00.001-07:002018-03-18T12:55:57.873-07:00Holm Skooled"Every child is an artist, the problem is staying an artist when you grow up” – Pablo Picasso
So I aint got much to say ‘bout raisin childrens…excepting maybe this….
When we think we know the limits of our children, we may be stifling their potential. For example, if I focus on the importance of calling Lego instructions “the directions” and I stumble to correct when my son says “where’s DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-54736680561969181822012-07-18T17:47:00.000-07:002012-08-21T13:02:00.617-07:00
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. Anais Nin
I can honestly say that I have never personally known Sigmund Freud, though we have at times had consistent traveling companions, comrades if you will. His contribution to the study of the mind can not be overstated and he also had DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-66440466493981216202011-11-29T00:46:00.001-08:002011-11-29T00:48:13.468-08:00Just Once...Whenever a new story begins and an old story ends...good times are on the horizon.
Of courses, we all have our own perceptions and preferences and preconceived notions and...
...and I myself love stories that begin, "Once upon a time..." and somewhere down the road end, "...and they lived happily ever after."
If that's not how your story ends, it's not over yet.DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-63735202173065005392011-07-30T03:05:00.000-07:002011-07-30T03:05:34.636-07:00Old and DyingThere is a saying that was planted by our very own poet, Robert Dylan..."those who are not busy being born are busy dying."
The voice of the revolution...and yet hunger is something that is familiar to all of us.
I just want to live a life that was well lived. I want to leave a legacy. At the very least, I want my children to never know what it is like to go to bed hungry.
But my friends, as DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-22039918124868787382010-08-01T06:18:00.000-07:002010-08-01T06:25:55.997-07:00Immortal Yoda
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margin-bottom:.0001pt;DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-81635577362189446582010-07-27T19:23:00.000-07:002010-07-27T19:34:29.012-07:00Perpetual Wisdom Flakes
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margin-bottom:.0001pt;DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-50213002930251274982010-05-23T01:43:00.000-07:002010-05-23T01:44:10.550-07:00Death and BolognaI tried to kill myself again last night but once again I didn’t get it right. The conversation went a little something like this…
Me: I thought you were dead?!
Myself: Well, I’m here aren’t I?!
I: Better luck next time.
The facts:
I took a grenade and put it in my mouth. Then I swallowed it whole with a glass of ice cold chocolate Ovaltine.
And I waited…
My tummy started to hurt but nothing. DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-18501803472989048562010-04-30T20:27:00.000-07:002010-04-30T20:27:04.873-07:00Survival Kit
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DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-15478075127715413142010-04-18T21:28:00.001-07:002010-04-18T21:34:41.165-07:00Oobi-doobey-doo, where are you?<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073741899 0 0 159 0;}DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-60646794902572357512010-02-18T23:59:00.001-08:002010-02-19T00:06:37.649-08:00Tibetan Singing Bowl<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073741899 0 0 159 0;}DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-31735601727881616472010-02-07T00:18:00.001-08:002010-02-07T00:23:55.229-08:00Parenting without a license...<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073741899 0 0 159 0;}DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-75855813495727629282010-01-31T13:34:00.000-08:002010-01-31T13:37:40.145-08:00Dream a little...<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Berlin Sans FB"; panose-1:2 14 6 2 2 5 2 2 3 6; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-27305880776288949912010-01-16T22:12:00.001-08:002010-01-16T22:19:51.859-08:00Randoliciousness<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073741899 0 0 159 0;}DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-76735594477242402312010-01-14T16:57:00.000-08:002010-01-14T17:13:42.273-08:00LIFE: My Favorite Reality Show<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; 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panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1931787955449870679.post-56217346575210797122009-12-18T00:34:00.000-08:002009-12-18T00:47:39.406-08:00I Will Not Forget You!<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]--> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; DaddyJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05239255194268647713noreply@blogger.com1