Tag Archives: blogging

Recipe for invisible shackles.

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Recipe for invisible shackles.

A very simple yet effective recipe to create invisible shackles for a large population of people without them even realizing they’ve been shackled.

1. Tax the people on the money they make to their breaking point, making them work more leaving them exhausted and easier prey.

2. Charge them interest on the loans they need for vehicles and houses in order to work a job and pay the taxes that prevent them from having large savings creating a dependency on the banks.

3. Incorporate another way to gauge money disguised as a mortgage “insurance” thats paid by the people to protect the bank, which “allows” people (for a sizeable fee of course.) with less then 20% down on a house to purchase (for a fee+interest of course.) a home to live in to continue to work their jobs and pay their taxes, which ironically probably prevented them from saving 20% of the purchase price of a home in an already extremely overvalued/overpriced housing market in the first place.

4. Then pass out credit cards at 20% interest rates, while the media flashes images of happy faces using revolutionary, life-altering, must-have products to people that are already heavily in debt, depressed and seeking any form of happiness they can get.

5. When the people are depressed, angry and frustrated blame the poor and foreigners for taking all the tax money.

The hug, guest starring “discipline.”

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The hug, guest starring “discipline.”

A hug,
Can calm your crying,
Soothe a child sobbing,
Have you forget the horrible thing,
That has you thinking,
You are dying,
Wonderful things a bug can bring,
When problems are multiplying,
When the world seems trying,
Having arms intertwining,
May have you finding,
Your worries are unwinding,
Oh, There is no denying,
The power of a hug,

BUT!

What if…

A hug,
Was used more sinisterly,
Dastardly,
Slightly, haphazardly,
Ratherly ingeniously,
Honestly, slightly manipulatively,
Hugging administered effectively,
Can end sibling rivalry,
Siblings hugging forcibly,
Enforcing, them coercively,
While harvesting undeniably,
The power of a hug!

A hug
Can halt siblings crying,
Hitting, kicking, and sobbing,
When punishing doesn’t solve a thing,
You may start thinking,
Forcing Sibling hugging can seem worse then dying,
Wonderful things a hug can bring,
When the fights are multiplying,
How about trying,
Having their arms intertwining,
You may start finding,
The fighting is unwinding,
Oh, there is no denying,
the power of a hug!

My oil field man.

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My oil field man.

It’s a way of life in Newfoundland,
Deer lake airport has become his second home throughout the years,
My selfless husband devotes his time, sweat, blood and tears,
Ultimately sacrificing his life to a seismic crew and the Oilsands of the Mainland,

He works holidays, birthdays, Christmas day, fathers day and more,
He works everyday, from sun up to sun down,
Spending months in a work camp without seeing a town,
Spending months working, until his body is tired, worn and sore,

He has endured tornadoes in the blistering desert heats of Oman,
Endured the extreme colds of Alberta and Alaska which left frostbite on his fingers and arms,
His days tattoo his skin and his heart with scars,
Yet, my oil field man stands strong and treks on,

He has climbed sand dunes and rugged terrains,
While praying vipers, scorpions, wolves, cougars and bears, wouldn’t see him there,
Throughout it all never thinking life is unfair,
Throughout it all my oil field man never complains,

Because, although he has given the oilfield his time and most of his life,
Although seismic has borrowed his body and mind,
Every time he leaves, his heart is left behind,
Every time he leaves his remaining part is kept safely until his return, by his children and his wife.

My medical mystery.

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My medical mystery.

I’ve concluded lately that I must be suffering from a physical or mental ailment. I have been having peculiar, unexplained symptoms. They include, hallucinations, an inability to properly string together sentences coherently, and I have been hearing voices!

I noticed the first symptom one day when I asked my children if their rooms were clean. To which they unanimously, with an eye roll each, and a quick snicker to one another, replied,

“YES, of course, mom!” .

Something about the way they snickered led me to believe they may not be practising honesty. I decided to go investigate for myself and low and behold my eyes conjured up an unholy mess that according to my children, “wasn’t even there.” I sighed and in an attempt to gain sympathy from my husband I exclaimed,

“Would you look at this mess!”

My husband at the time, was playing clash of titans on his phone and in the middle of an intense war or maybe planting crops (I can never figure out which one.) The game obviously needed his complete and undivided attention. He seemed annoyed by my question. I remember thinking at the time that he might have been planting imaginary vegetable crops to feed his very real family, because he had been using all our very real money to buy his imaginary beloved bags of gems. I can only assume he has the uncanny ability to see through the top of his head, and being enthralled with his game (planting crops or fighting kings) he used this extraordinary ability, because without even looking up, he quickly replied,

“I don’t see a mess.”

At this point I was feeling rather defeated but I decided to give it one more try. I proceeded to ask my children,

“Why are your rooms a mess, after I explicitly asked you to clean them?”

They shrugged their shoulders, looked at one another grinning conspicuously and said,

“They aren’t.”

That’s when I came to the conclusion I must be suffering from hallucinations.

I noticed my inability to string together coherent sentences after days, weeks and months of my children and my husband not seeming to understand what I was saying to them. I would say to my children,

“Go brush your teeth.”

and in my incoherent babbling they would hear,

“Go play xbox.”

or

“Go flick your toothbrush with water, place it in your mouth for three seconds, pretend you brushed your teeth, and then when I tell you to brush them again, whine and stomp your feet!”

My suspicions were even further confirmed when my husband began to misconstrue what I was saying to him. I would ask,

“Can you please take out the garbage?”

I would ask him this, the night before garbage day in an attempt to avoid him in the morning, inevitably running outside in his boxers for all the neighbours to see! Nonetheless my incoherent babbling got the better of me and had him hearing,

“Please ignore me, don’t take out the garbage tonight, wait until you hear the garbage truck coming down the road, Leap out of bed, spew random profanities, mutter that I should have told you garbage day was coming and proceed to take the garbage outside in your boxers!”

As you can see, I’m suffering from some very serious symptoms, and those aren’t even the most alarming. I have been hearing voices as well! Last week I thought I heard my children downstairs fighting and I “thought” they were calling each other names. To my surprise when I questioned them no one had any idea what I was talking about! There was also an incident with my husband. I was complaining about the children as I usually do and I distinctly heard him mutter,

“For the love of god, would you shut up already!”

I glared at him intensely, with my hands on my hips, ready to let off the fully loaded cockpit of arguments that I had been waiting to unleash on him for months, as I sternly demanded,

“Why would you say something like that to me?”

He looked puzzled for a second, as if I had heard something I wasn’t supposed to hear, after a few seconds the seemingly distressed look on his face had disappeared and he simply replied,

“What’s that darling? I didn’t say anything!”

I am becoming so worried about all these bizarre symptoms, a trip to doctor will soon be in order. If not, I may start to hallucinate that I am on a secluded island, sipping daiquiris, watching nearby dolphins playing angelically. Running sand between my toes, while the warm sun beams on my face and I fan myself with a paper that appears to read “divorce agreement,” or I may just start to hallucinate that my children are sobbing uncontrollably, clinging to the suitcases that they hold in each hand, behind domineering black iron gates, simultaneously crying,

“Please, don’t send us to military school!”