It happened one sunny day.  I was walking past the old house that I used to keep my chickens, ducks & geese in, when from upstairs I heard what sounded like kittens mewing for their mama.  On a closer listen, it didn’t quite sound right.  It sounded kind of like a backwards meow.

I got our tractor, raised the front end loader, and climbed up into the second floor.  I’d never been in there before, as the door leading to the stairs was nailed shut.  I could hear the little voices calling from under the floor, so  I started ripping up floorboards.

I saw a little gray-and-black baby scampering away from me, and caught him.  Eventually I found four little baby raccoons, and gathered them up.  Upon checking a certain downstairs room, I found two babies, next to their mother.  Their mother was a big old raccoon.  Unfortunately for her, she had decided to live in that house, and had been regularly eating my poultry.  I had put out some rat poison, and Mama Coon wouldn’t be eating any more chicken dinners.  That meant the little ones were now my responsibility.

I put the baby raccoons in a rabbit cage I had laying around.  After talking to my dad, I mixed a formula of milk, raw eggs and honey.  The little buggers sucked it down eagerly.

After a few days, I knew they recognized me as their new mother, so I turned them loose.  I would go out and make a call like their own, and they would come running, fighting each other to get their turn at the bottle.

I had them for a month or two.  It was fun playing with them, and watching them play with each other, and our dog and cats.  When they got older, two of them just naturally went wild.  I found one back in the old chicken house, and caught him again. One I never caught again.  Four of the other five, I turned loose where they could live as Nature intended.

That last little raccoon was as tame as any pet, and was a constant companion to my Blue Heeler dog.  One time I got a call from a neighbor who lived about a mile and a half away from me, saying my dog was at their place.  I drove there, looking the whole way for the little raccoon, but didn’t see him.  Imagine my relief when, as I pulled up to the house, a little masked face peered around the corner at me.  “Has your dog got a pet raccoon?” the neighbor asked, and we laughed.  My little friend was okay, for now, at least.

I’ll always remember those times fondly, although later I wished I had turned that last little guy loose somewhere, too.  He was trying to help my dog chase the cows out one morning, and was stepped on and killed.  Rest in peace, my friend.

Image taken from www.247wildlife.com/raccoonphotos.htm

First published April 24, 2009

Today I went to get my beard shaved, with my moustache to be merely evened up.  The stylist first misunderstood, and trimmed my beard, but it still was unmistakably a beard.  I told her I know they can’t get it baby-smooth, but they usually get it alot more closely shaved. As she worked, she asked about “squaring it up at the jawline”, and I patiently explained that I wanted the whole thing (meaning the beard) shaved as close as possible.    When I next looked in the mirror, I could see that my moustache, which I have had for over twenty years, is GONE!!!

Sheesh.  Now, I know how Samson felt after his encounter with Delilah!!!

This is not the silliest question I’ve ever answered, but it has to be in the running.  That said, here goes:

Some people see everything in black and white.  Some people seem unable to distinguish sharp colors, and see everything indifferent shades of gray.  My personality, however, like that possessed by most people, cannot be so simply classified as to compare it to one color.  You’d need every color ever seen or imagined to adequately describe me, and the wide range of feelings and emotions that make up my personality.  No rainbow has the ability to reflect who we are .  No artist who ever lived is capable of capturing the many aspects of the human personality….

We run the gamut from soft barely-there light blues and other pastels when we are resting, relaxed and content, to a the mix of fiery reds and oranges that represent anger, lust or other extremes of passion.

Then we have white, where all light is reflected back outward, and overwhelms the senses, and black, which absorbs all light, when we are in an emotional void, feeling nothing at all.

I just answered this Featured Question; you can answer it too!

I often have extremely detailed dreams about whatever is happening on television while I sleep.  The morning of September 23, 2009, as Barack Obama gave his first address to the United Nations, I had the following dream.
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I am walking on the edge of a model world.  I can see how everything is neatly laid out.  A voice booms out from somewhere above me, laying out his goals for the future of the World.  That voice belongs to United States President Barack Obama.
He tells us that he wants all citizens of the World to live in peace, all ruled by International Law.  He wants all Nations to have the right to have nuclear energy.  Regarding nuclear weapons, he wants all Nations to follow nuclear non-proliferation, and eventually complete nuclear disarmament.  No nation, he says, should assert dominance over another.  Instead, all should work together as partners.
The Voice Above talks about wanting all citizens to purchase health insurance.  Everyone will receive a free college education, in exchange for which they will be required to serve a period of “mandatory volunteer work for the Government”.  Mandatory volunteer work?  Something about that doesn’t sound right.
I walk through a stark hallway, seeking where I will spend my own future. The Voice lays out what all citizens need to do to ensure the success of our Civilization.  I ask one person walking beside me, “What if we just want to stay home playing video games?”  He laughs, both of us made uncomfortable by my speaking against the unseen power of The Voice.
The Voice talks about all races, and all Nations, being equal.  This, of course, seems a noble goal, but can it be legislated?  People of indeterminate race are all around me.  Their features, and even their shapes, blur and change as they move quickly along.  They make derisive remarks and attack me, a white male, as they pass me by.
I enter an area where a military attack is being prepared for.  Nobody objects to a civilian being in a war zone, and I wonder why.  Then I realize the truth.  All in this attack happens in an orderly fashion, as if the outcome is already determined.  It’s essentially a perfectly acted-out play simulating War, as if Mankind still fights for something.
I enter an area of industry.  All is pipes and mechanical equipment.  This is one of the places workers are needed, but it is not for me.  I love the freedom of country living too much for that.
I see an exit that leads to country fields, and head that way.  Perhaps my future lies in the countryside.  Sure enough, there are beautiful fields stretching out, with an occasional tree, but somehow it all seems artificial.  There are no animals, or people, to be seen anywhere.  Each fenced-in field is of an identical size, the trees are evenly spaced, and there is the occasional armed soldier or military tank placed so that it can keep everyone in line.
It comes to me that in Obama’s vision for the future of the World, there is no true personal liberty, nor chance for following one’s own goals in pursuit of financial success.  The chances to live in different surroundings serve merely to give the illusion of freedom of choice.  This is a Socialist World.  All resources are to be shared equally by all people.  Everyone lives exactly the same as everyone else, except for performing different functions to serve Society.  It doesn’t matter what you do, or how hard you work, you will not have more or less than anyone else.  Peace comes at a cost.  It will last only if you are doing exactly as The Government expects you to do, and you are being watched at all times.

Copyright September 24, 2009 by lonelywanderer2 @ xanga.com

I open my eyes, and the image on the TV catches my attention immediately.  The World Trade Center is hit by a plane.  Soon after, another plane hits another tower.

“How long has this been going on?”, I ask my  wife.  “About an hour now.”  “Why the fuck didn’t you wake me?”  I know we’re at war, I just don’t know who the bastards are.  I call the Air Force Training Base where I am a Security Police Officer, and ask if they need me to come in right away.  They tell me to come in at my normal time; they may need me later.

As I get ready for the drive to work, I take my 9mm pistol and loaded clips with me.  I don’t know if I might be targeted just because of the uniform I wear, but if I am, I want to be ready.

I pull up to the gate to see armed men all over the place.  I recognize the man who meets me, M-16 automatic rifle in hand.  He is not normally in Security Police, or even armed, when he works.  He  works in the ammo dump.  He says he needs to search my van, which I can certainly understand.  I inform him that I have my personal sidearm next to me, not wanting him to panic when he sees it there..  As he searches, I turn to say something, or maybe to ask him something.  He jumps, I shit you not, about a foot in the air and yells, “What; what’s wrong???!!!”

Being no fool, and unwilling to die because this idiot is scared out of his mind, I raise my hands and say, “Not a thing in this world”.

What follows is fourteen and a half hours of patrolling and watching for threats, sitting at a guardhouse with half a dozen sleepy guys who don’t want to be there, drinking bad coffee, and even dark humor on my part about horny widows swarming the singles bars around the World Trade Center in a month or so.  Sick and twisted?  Probably, but hey, what the fuck, when you’re that tired, and that nervous, laughing is better than crying.

This is really not the beginning of the war on terror, but it made most people in the world aware we can’t avoid taking action any longer.  There has not been a time since then that the men and women who serve, and those who have died, have not been on my mind.  I did my part, but I wish I could do more.  Please take the time to appreciate those who have ever served, and those who will serve in the future.  They fight to allow us to be safe, or at least as safe as possible.

As the old saying goes, “Freedom Isn’t Free”

Welcome to lonelywanderer2 on Xanga 2.0 hosted by wordpress. I hope we can establish a feeling of community comparable to what we had at the old Xanga. I made a lot of good friends there. I would like to follow them here, and have them follow me, and hope to have people, subscribe to this one, too.

I hope it works out. I have been a Premium member for several years, and enjoy the feeling of community on Xanga. Now the questions really become important, though. I have two main questions.

Wondering if Premium memberships will still be good until their currently scheduled expiration date, and what happens to those with lifetime memberships.

I am on facebook at http://facebook.com/lonelywanderer2 and am a member of the facebook groups Xangaville and Xangaforever.
I have loved our time together on Xanga, and if Xanga does indeed shut down, I hope to stay in contact with as many of you as possible. What makes Xanga a community, after is the people we interact with, so maybe we can find that again. Just to be clear, if Xanga continues on, as Xanga 2.0 or in whatever form, I will definitely be a part of it. I would love to keep in touch with you in other forums also, though.

I have a blogger site at lonelywanderer2.blogspot.com

I can also be found on wordpress at lonelywanderer2.wordpress.com

A lot of people talk about having “fuck buddies”, or “friends with benefits”, and sometimes they actually say they just want “sex with no emotions” 

I call that bullshit, or maybe denial.  I could definitely have a female friend that I also sometimes had sex with; I absolutely could.  However, let’s remember the “buddies” and “friends” part of those terms.  If you called a friend and said you really didn’t want to be alone, and asked if you could get together, and they blew you off without caring that you need them, how would you feel about them as a friend?  You’re starting to get an idea what I mean now, right? 

Even during so-called casual sex, or for that matter, while masturbating, most people imagine they are with another human being, a farm animal, or (*shudders*) SOMETHING!!!  Even a rape fantasy, or actual rape, involves the reaction of another living being.

So guys and gals, if you wanna be a player and think “sex without emotions” sounds so great, imagine finding a total stranger and having sex with them.  It can be someone you encounter by accident, a prostitute, or an encounter with someone you meet through an ad.  Make sure they ABSOLUTELY know you have no feelings for them at ALL.  Make them repeat it back to you, or sign a contract maybe. 

Drinks or dinner to set the mood?  No; there is no mood.  Small talk about past life, sexual predilections, where you’re from, et cetera?  Talk afterward about how enjoyable (or unenjoyable)the encounter was?  NOT HAPPENING!!!  No emotions, remember? 

I know if I am going to fool around with, or have sex with, someone, I want it to be a fond memory for me, and them too.  It may not be LOVE.  I’m not saying we’re gonna get married and have babies, but  I’m sure as Hell gonna care about them intensely while we are together.

A woman who was out in a boat with fishing equipment was stopped by the game warden. The warden told her she was under arrest for illegal fishing. When she said she was not illegally fishing, the warden said, “Perhaps not. You can tell that story to the judge; maybe he’ll believe you. But you must admit this. You have all the equipment to do so. Is it such a stretch to believe you tried to dip your line in?”

The women, under threat of arrest, told the warden, “I am going to have to have to report you for raping me.”

The warden protested, “I did not rape you!:”

The woman replied, “Perhaps not. You can tell that story to the judge; maybe he’ll believe you. But you must admit this. You have all the necessary equipment to do so. Is it such a stretch to believe you tried to dip your line in?”