Uncivil Rights

My Time in Hell

Summer 2002

One bit of information you need to know before I begin; my father-in-law is a gagger; you know, one of those people that start to gag as if they’re going to vomit at the slightest mention of something gross or disgusting. To make matters worse for him, he has two sons who just love to make him gag. One of their favorite things to do would be to make a sound like a fart then say, “Oh man, who did that? That stinks so bad!” At the mere mention of this, he would cover his nose with his hand and start to gag. Another favorite was when they had some sort of sausage to eat. My father-in- law had a habit of eating sausage and then complaining it was really greasy; this would get him over to the kitchen sink gagging, so his sons would pretend their sausage was greasy and start to gag which would get him going. I must admit, it was really funny. You could get him to gag practically on command. I think it’s psychosomatic, myself. But, with that said…

My wife’s family had a reunion last summer in Minnesota. It was July. I won’t soon forget. I had no idea Minnesota could get so hot. It’s so close to Canada yah hey. Isn’t it considered the great white north? Oh well.

We drove up from Iowa where most of her relatives live. So we went to Iowa first then on up to Minnesota. Her cousin is a park ranger (I’m not making this up) in a state park, and that’s where we had the party. He even set up a boat tour of the lake. Pretty cool. Everyone brought a dish to pass. All of her relatives are excellent cooks, so the food was good. Did I mention how HOT it was that day? I think the temperature was around 100 degrees.

I’ll just say that we had high temps, potato salad, and coleslaw. Do you see where I’m going with this? Only now do I see the folly of my ways. Unfortunately, I didn’t see them at the time. I love potato salad and coleslaw, at least I used to. I had more than my share I’ll admit, but since I drove, I figured I had it coming (boy did I have it coming!)

We ate then sat around for about a half an hour when we were told the boat was ready. We all waddled over to the dock. It was a big double-decker tour boat. I sat on the top deck. Why? Because I’m an idiot, but that’s beside the point, all the old people sat on the lower deck, so those of us without a walker had to go upstairs. No problem. Did I mention how hot it was that day?

The upper deck had no shade. Thank God I had a hat. Unfortunately it was a leather, Chicago Bulls cap, black. The tour around the lake was going to take two hours. Hmm, two hours on the upper deck under the sun. Did I mention how hot it was that day?

After 45 minutes I started feeling a bit queasy. I attributed this to boredom and the sway of the boat, and I was tired and full. I tried to relax. 48 minutes after we left the dock, I started to wonder where that dock was now. We were just going around the lake. By this time, we were on the other side. 54 minutes after leaving the dock, I saw the place where we had departed. 55 minutes into the trip, I was estimating the distance back to the dock. I thought I could swim it…maybe…no…not the way I was feeling…we needed to get a little closer. The 62 minute mark, I was sweating up a storm. It must be 1000 degrees out here. Do you remember the commercial: this is your brain; this is your brain on drugs, the one with the fried egg? 65 minute mark, the egg WAS my brain. I swear I could hear it sizzle. I took my hat off. Who in their right mind would where a leather hat in this weather? I knew I wasn’t in my right mind. I was thinking that if I were Jesus, I could just walk back to boat dock, to the shade of the trees. Did I mention how hot it was that day?

My wife was talking to me now. I think. I wasn’t paying any attention to her. I was thinking; if I puked over the side, would I hit anyone on the lower deck? Could I hit someone on the lower deck? That would be pretty funny. My wife’s face comes into focus. She seems mad. She’s talking again. All I hear is the sizzling. I wonder what a stroke feels like? I hate this boat. I hate everyone on it. My God, is this ever going to end? Did I mention how hot it was that day?

The trip ended at the dock where we started. Thank God! Shade! I hope the old lady I pushed down on my way off the boat was all right. I think she was a distant relation that lives in Minnesota; we’ll never see her again, so it was okay. I ran to my van, started it and turned up the air conditioning. I prayed to God and thanked him for air conditioning. I must remember to tithe more. Ahhh, I had the air conditioning at full blast. I was beginning to feel well enough to drive extremely fast back to the hotel. Where the hell, were my in-laws? I made my daughter round them up. I was going to leave them there, but I probably would have felt worse if I did, compliments of my wife, so I waited. Did I mention how hot it was outside?

Finally, everyone was in the van. I raced back to the hotel and turned the A/C to full blast in the room. I passed out on the bed. My wife offered to bring me something to eat, damn her! “No thanks,” I said, “I don’t feel too well. I think I’ll just sleep a little more.” I slept about 14 hours. I didn’t feel that well the next day either. Unfortunately, on the way back to Iowa, my wife wanted to stop at various sights along the way. I said it would be okay as long as I could stay in the truck with the A/C on. She agreed. God I love her.

We finally made it back to Iowa. We were staying at her aunt’s house. Her aunt raises grey hounds for racing. They have a big dog house that can house a couple dozen dogs. They also have training runs which are large fenced in areas the dogs can run in. These structures sit about 100 feet behind the house. For the most part, the dogs are quiet.

We were staying in the finished basement, and upon arrival, I immediately went to bed. Around 2 a.m. I awoke with abdominal pains the likes of which I have never experienced. I would liken them to labor pains if I was assured no woman would take offense. However, looking back, I will say that if my ass were a vagina, I know what it’s like for a virgin to give birth to a 15 pound baby. I ran for the bathroom.

It was down the hall and looked out on the backyard. I had just sat down when all hell was loosed upon the toilet. There was an explosion, a sound unworldly, almost demonic. It was loud and the bathroom walls reverberated. I had my face in my hands and my body in a fetal-like position precariously perched on the edge of the seat. I wanted to run from the pain, but I knew it was futile. Another explosion, a bombastic symphony of sounds I have never heard. I think I just blew my sphincter. Is that what a colon looks like? Another and another booming blast of searing pain erupted from down below. Now that’s funny, I don’t remember eating any Mexican food…

And then I heard it, a sound unlike the satanic thunderstorm emanating from my ass. I held my breath to listen, which wasn’t too difficult since I was holding it already. I think I singed some of my nose hairs. There it was again. I prayed for the storm in my bowels to calm. It was…it was…no…it can’t be…it was a dog barking, and not just one. It was now a cacophony of dogs barking. Oh no, please be quiet, please be quiet…I started to pray, “Dear GOD! STRIKE THOSE BASTARDS DEAD BEFORE THEY WAKE SOMEONE UP!” A rolling thunder and a shrill of high pitched blasts followed…from me, not the dogs.

Then I heard the floor squeak over my head. Oh no, I woke someone up. I have never been so embarrassed in my life. I looked at my watch. I always wear my watch, right there on my left wrist. Where is it? My God did I shit that out too? Are those my shoes in there?

The violence finally subsided. I was debating whether I should take a shower, at now 3 in the morning or save fouling a clean shower stall and hose my self off in the back yard. I decided to do neither. I could barely stand. My legs were wobbly. I staggered back to bed. I was walking like those rodeo cowboys who just got a bull’s horn rammed up their ass. I was in pain. I now know what it’s like to be a pretty boy in prison. I passed out.

I awoke at 7 and started to get ready to leave. I avoided the bathroom like the plague, especially since it smelled like it had the plague. It was only a 5 hour drive to get home. I can make 5 hours. We need to hurry. I rushed everyone out. I packed the van and got in. I turned the A/C on full blast, my head resting on the steering wheel. I was waiting. If I had known how the next 20 minutes of my life were about to be played out, I would have left everyone there and gone home by myself.

The scene, the players…

Everyone climbed into the van. I was in the driver’s seat; my father-in-law was in the passenger seat. My wife sat directly behind me, and my mother-in-law was directly behind my father-in-law. The two kids were in the third seat…fighting…of course. My father-in-law looked at me and asked, “What’s the matter? Don’t you feel well?” I weakly shook my head. My wife put her hands on my shoulders and said, “He’s not feeling too well right now.” (I should have known after my father-in-law spoke these next words I was in for trouble.) Leaning back in the seat and putting his hands on his stomach he said, “You know, I don’t feel that well either.” Something clicked in my brain when he said this, but I was too weak to understand what it meant at the time. I started the van and put it into drive. We started moving.

We had not even reached the end of the driveway when my father-in-law turned to my wife and asked, “Do you have any Tums or Rolaids?” My wife said she didn’t but we could get some at the gas station 5 minutes away. There was another click in my brain, a little louder. I turned onto the road. My father-in-law moaned…a little. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He was squirming in his seat. The subtle clues hadn’t hit me yet. My brain was still foggy. I was still in pain…and I was NOT in a good mood. I turned again, and again another soft moan from the passenger seat.

“Velda? (my mother-in-law), do you have any Tums or Rolaids in your purse?” my father-in-law asked his wife. She stated she didn’t. Something was becoming clearer, but I’m not sure what. I was on the highway, now 2 minutes from the gas station.

I made it to the gas station. I started to fill up. My wife went to get drinks and Tums. I told my father-in-law to get some air. He got out and walked into the store. Now full, everyone climbed back in, drinks and Rolaids in hand. I had no idea I had 15 minutes of hell waiting for me.

We got back on the highway, same seating arrangement, kids still fighting. My father-in-law took 2 Rolaids. We had wasted time and now I was going to make up for it. I was doing 70 in a 55, making good time. I heard a moan, a big, loud moan from the passenger seat. A little voice in my said I should ignore it, but it was like a bad traffic accident, I couldn’t look away. I turned my head. My father-in-law was now rubbing his stomach vigorously. His head was rolling from side to side. He was moaning louder and said, “Oh, I don’t feel well…I think…I think…I think I’m going to be sick!” I FLOORED IT!

He started gagging. Uhhmmm…uhhmmphh….uhhmmmph. “GOD DAMMIT, YOU WILL NOT PUKE IN MY CAR!” I screamed. Then I started to gag. As sick as I was, this was the LAST thing I needed. “GET HIM A BUCKET!” I screamed. “I don’t see anything.” My wife said, a bit anxious. “LOOK DAMMIT LOOK!” I yelled. Uhhmmph…uuhhmmph… I kept hearing his retching which, in turn, made me dry heave. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. My wife, and now the kids, were desperately searching everywhere for some sort of bucket. “GET A PLASTIC BAG!” I shrieked. I was close, very close to losing it. I was now doing 95 miles an hour looking for any type of gas station or restaurant. Uhhnmmph…uuhhmmph… “DID YOU FIND ONE YET!?” “No, all I have is this,” my wife said holding up a ripped Jewel bag. “WELL GIVE IT TO HIM DAMMIT!”

She handed him the bag. He put it up to his mouth. I looked over at my mother-in-law. I looked directly in her eyes and saw…a smirk. My in-laws have been married about 45 years. She, of all people, knows his psychosomatic gagging. She got as much pleasure out of watching her sons tease him about his gagging as they did. I hated her at that particular moment. She calmly watched as I was screaming, trying not to puke, and holding my head out the window while driving like a maniac. She calmly watched as her daughter and grandchildren feverishly searched for a bucket. She was smirking. More gagging was coming from the passenger seat.

He was calming down now. I was breaking out in a major cold sweat. “Uh, I thought I was going to vomit,” he said. I looked at him with pure hatred. If my hands weren’t now permanently embedded in the steering wheel, I would have reached over and strangled him. I was still doing 95. He slowly leaned back. “Oh…oh…my stomach,” he said. “OH SHIT!” I thought.

“DOOOOOOOOOH!” he screamed. His body went rigid, his feet against the floor of the van and only his head touching the seat. He was straight as a board. For a man in his 70’s, he clenched his butt cheeks so tight he could have cracked walnuts with them. I was now doing close to 100 miles an hour. His body went slack, then rigid again. I saw a gas station up ahead. I cut over two lanes of traffic and squealed my tires into the turn of the off ramp. I screeched to a halt in the parking lot right in front of the station. “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR!” I yelled at him. He said, “Velda, come in with me.” Why should I come in with you?” she flippantly asked him. I turned to my precious mother-in-law and calmly said, “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR AND GO WITH HIM GODDAMMIT!”

I put my head on the steering wheel and thanked God I was still alive, and then cursed him for the same. My father-in-law came out of the store 10 minutes later. He climbed in. “Oh, I feel so much better now,” he claimed. “Here, I bought everyone candy bars. Which one do you want?” He sweetly smiled at me, and I thought to myself, “I want the biggest one, SO I CAN SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!” I said, “None for me thanks.” He said, “No? Still not feeling well?” I was still too weak to kill him.

We left the gas station. For some unknown reason, I kept looking for a good spot along the side of the road to dump a body.

There are a few things in this life that really piss me off, like the French and the incompetent, but when I saw this picture in the Chicago Tribune today, I exploded.

Let me describe it to you. It is a group of 20-somethings, protesting Bush’s Social Security proposals. There is nothing wrong with that. However, one young man is apparently chanting and holding a sign that reads, “Hands Off My Social Security!” That’s fair enough. But then right behind him is a young lady chanting and holding a sign that reads, “Stop Privatization”. Does anyone reading this see anything wrong here?

First of all, for all you liberal pinheads out there, social security has NO GUARANTEE! There is nothing in any legislative act, law, or constitution that says you are guaranteed social security benefits. Congress has the right to reduce or even eliminate any social security benefits to which you may think you’re entitled. Does everyone understand this concept, this REALITY? There is nothing with your name on it in the social security system other than the payroll tax YOU MUST PAY. There is no individual account that says, “Mr. Smith paid in this much in his life, and therefore he is entitled to these benefits.” NOTHING! Do all you incompetent liberals understand this?

The ONLY way you can be assured Congress will keep their hands off of your money is to have YOUR OWN PRIVATE ACCOUNT! WITH YOUR NAME ON IT! IDIOT!
And yet here we see these bright, intelligent individuals out there protesting against the very thing that will accomplish what they want! My God, it makes me sick to think these people are the future of this country.

The dichotomy of these two signs and the fact that they are utilized to protest the same issue clearly shows how disconnected from logic and reason the liberal mind is. I don’t want to believe these people are really that stupid and moronic, just caught up in the political and hypocritical rhetoric of the left. However, this in and of itself will reveal that these individuals do hold some responsibility and accountability to research and investigate the facts of the issue, and for that, or the lack thereof, they are really that stupid.

We are currently fighting the war on terror. That means that our enemies utilize terror as their weapon, killing the innocent to instill terror in the hearts and minds of the masses. Terrorists realize they cannot and will not physically kill all of us infidels. That is strategically and realistically impossible.

They can, however, change the hearts and minds of the timid and weak, and this is where and how the terrorists wage their war. When the will to fight this war on terror diminishes, when people start to question our resolve in this fight, when people start to call for our troops to come home, the terrorists win.

This is a war that is fought not on the battlefield as much as in the heart and mind of the people. The only way to win this war is to continue to fight on the battlefield, to believe in your strength of will and resolve, to be willing to fight for the control of your heart and mind and never succumb to fear.

To the liberals that call for the withdrawal of our troops, who blame America and the west for bringing this war on themselves, who believe the lifestyles and capitalism of Americans are to blame, you are victims of terrorism, and if you were fighting this war you would have already lost. By your cries to blame and your cries for withdrawal, you are utilizing the terrorist’s tactics to spread fear. You are fighting this war for the terrorists in the hearts and minds of those you wish to persuade. You are using terrorism without killing, and you do not see it. This same mindset and fear was demonstrated during the Viet Nam war. America did not lose that war on the battlefield; it lost it in the hearts and minds of the public, that same battlefield where you wage your war now.

Spain was attacked by terrorists, and the Spanish succumbed to their fear. They lost. Do you wish to follow Spain down that path? It was their weakness and fear that has now caused the latest attack in London. Let us hope the British will show the same resolve and determination they once showed during World War II. Let it be known that American Conservatives will stand behind their British brethren all the way.

When I became union president, I swore to uphold the tenets of our contract under its original intent as agreed between labor and management. Negotiations were open and fair, and both sides negotiated in good faith. I did not agree with everything in our contract, but I upheld it as I expected management to follow it.

As I have explained to GBlagg on many occasions, even employees that deserved to be punished had a right to be represented, and management was held accountable to follow the disciplinary procedure as set forth in that contract. Many times, employees that deserved punishment were absolved from that punishment due to management’s incompetence or refusal to follow the contract. The goal was to always make sure the contract was followed.

If the union or management wanted changes made to the contract, those changes were achieved through negotiations; never interpretation. Management would never agree to new interpretation of the contract, just as a union would never allow management to change the interpretation. If changes were wanted or needed, one party sent a notice of intended changes to the other party. Only if both parties agreed to open the contract would negotiations begin. Agreement of changes would be in the form of a Letter of Agreement, a Memorandum of Understanding or an Amendment.

So what is so different when discussing the Constitution of the United States?

The Constitution was written with rules and procedures to change its meaning and expand its scope; those changes are called “amendments”. It is a “living document” in that; changes can be made to allow for a changing society and environment. “Original intent” applies, not only to the original document, but also to all the amendments as intended at the time of the adoption of those amendments. Interpretation was never intended as a means to change the constitution, if it were, those rules and procedures to amend the document would not have been included; there would be no need to include them.

However, the liberal-progressive-socialist agenda would never make it through the constitutional change process as set forth in the document. The majority of the people and the majority of the state legislatures would never agree to change the constitution and adapt the liberal agenda. I think this has been very evident in the last few elections. Therefore, the only way the liberal-progressive agenda has been instituted has been through the Supreme Court and its interpretational changes to the constitution.

One of the major areas of concern is the Roe v. Wade decision. I’m pretty sure the framers of our constitution never thought of abortion rights, but now, through interpretation, it is a constitutional right. The correct decision would have been to say the constitution is silent on abortion. Therefore, either an amendment is needed to the constitution, and the process to create and implement that change is started, or it becomes a state issue.

It bothers me to here politicians claim that an originalist on the Supreme Court will bring back segregation and take away the rights of women and minorities. This is nothing more than a scare tactic used by the liberals. As Justice Scalia once said, there is no moderate interpretation of the constitution. It is simply fear of loss, the loss of power and control, by the liberal-progressive-socialists who realized the court was their last bastion of power to implement their agenda, and they know they are losing the fight.

It also bothers me to hear people label current and potential justices. The terms liberal and conservative are misused in this instance. I believe more appropriate terms for Supreme Court justices would be originalist and legislativist. An originalist interprets the constitution and its amendments in the context of original intent. A legislativist, on the hand, would change the constitution through interpretation, thereby becoming a type of super-legislator, and a non-elected one at that.

Hopefully, President Bush will select an originalist to the Supreme Court. At least it will be a start to re-distribute congressional powers as they were originally intended. The Congress can create laws, and the Supreme Court can go back to interpreting laws.