Donald Trump Loves Us?


The slave who made this meme has zero self esteem.

This is quite possibly the most vile and disgusting meme which I have seen on the internet.

Donald Trump is not God. He is no Caesar. He has not achieved the status of Divus in the Roman Pantheon of Emperors and Gods.

Americans should not worship politicians. Americans should hold politicians accountable. I care not if any of these imbeciles and crooks running for Congress love me  I certainly do not love them.

Donald Trump is running for Congress. He is not a Roman Caesar. He is not the Jesus Christ. He is not God.

If the sheep elect this man President, it matters not if he loves Americans. What matters is his actions. Does he work to fix that which is broken. Does he halt the deliberate and constant attacks on Liberty and Freedom. Does he halt Police Militarization. Does he pull us out of the War without End.

Or does he pull a Nixon or an LBJ.

I don’t want the man to love me. I want him to be a Great Leader and to love Liberty and Freedom.

If The Donald does that, he’ll have my respect and my thanks. If he does it not, he’ll have my eternal enmity.

Shakespearean Tragedy Plays Out in Afghanistan



Insanity is occurring at this moment.

An Afghan acquaintance has “kidnapped” a young women and run off with her. I don’t think she was kidnapped so much as they have simply decided that they can’t live without each other and absconded away with one another…for the sake of their youthful, idealized, idyllic love.

Much to the consternation of his family and friends. He has also caused some turmoil for some folks who have helped him out along the way here in the Stan. His father may have faked a heart attack to escape the scene that now evolves and has situated himself in a hotel in Kabul. That may be the “Ariana Hotel.” His father may have had an actual heart attack or episode from the stress of tonight’s events. I’m not sure.

I called one of my acquaintances cell numbers only to reach his family. Specifically his father…who did not sound healthy at all. The father gave his phone to his young son who spoke English quite well. I asked after my young friend. Little Brother excitedly replied; “Wahid not come home after work. We looking for Wahid. If Wahid call you…you tell us.”

Little Brother is who informed me of their location – the Ariana Hotel.

As of this moment, this young man and his lady friend are on the run. Being that this is Afghanistan and his family SEEMS to have connections, I fear more for the safety and welfare of this young woman.

In Kabul and Herat, there are Women’s Prisons which hold many young Afghan ladies who were guilty of nothing more than being in love and running off with a young fellow. These women are usually found guilty of the idiotic “Crimes Against Chastity” and/or “bewitching young men and forcing immorality upon them.”

I’m sure the young man will get his hand slapped and little else. I fear that, if they are found or return of their own volition, the young girl is going to wind up in Kabul Women’s Prison.

There is another unfortunate twist to this.

The young lady in question is supposedly pregnant. The Father allegedly being my young acquaintance. Supposedly, they’ve “run off to Qandahar.” I’ve tried to contact him to talk some sense into him. Alas, my efforts bear no fruit.

Sounds like something out of a crime novel, does it not.

I hope everything works out. I fear it will not.

The other twist to this is Sharia law combined with Afghan customs. The oft discussed Pashtunwali has another side to it’s code of hospitality. It is a code of revenge. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Blood for blood.

If Wahid has either kidnapped this young lady. He will owe a blood debt for he has dishonored the family of the young lady. Wahid’s actions have humiliated this young woman’s family. That stain upon their family honor will exist until they have extracted a measure of satisfaction. This can be paid in blood or gold. The family might even demand female siblings of Wahid’s family as a means of settling this dispute. If the debt is not paid in gold or women, blood will be demanded. They will hunt Wahid. They may even avenge their “honor” by murdering or kidnapping members of his family.

Badal –may be understood as vengeance, revenge or justice.  It requires violent reaction to a death, injury or insult.  Advances on one’s zan, [ZAHN] zar [ZAHR] or zamin [ZAH-meen] (“women,” “wealth,” or “land”) are the most common offenses requiring revenge.  The only acceptable defense of honor is revenge, equal to but not exceeding the original insult.  Avenging an insult to a woman’s sexual purity is particularly important.

It is a strange and violent culture that must be navigated with care.

Was Jesus “the Way” and the only Way (path) to Heaven (the father)?


He told a truth. Not the only truth.

However, the Christian Church misunderstood and bastardized that truth. Jesus was talking about his message of Faith, Hope and Love. That is the path. Criminals and despots took that message and warped it. Thus, it became Jesus himself who was the way and the door to eternity.

Live a life of love and the GoDs will adore you. Heaven will be yours. The religion does not matter.

Leo Buscaglia

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I have read Love by Leo Buscaglia about a hundred times.  I’m sure.  I’ve flipped through it even more.  It’s my Bible.  If I’m feeling down, uncertain, lacking confidence or energy or faith in the future.  When I need a dose of Hope, Faith or Love, I read this book.  I only wish it was available digitally.

I’ve also loaned this book out to people.  Mailed it to people.  Bought it for people.  When folks feel down or I sense that they are troubled, I’ll send this book to them.  I’ve sent it out to a couple of dozen people.

If you haven’t read it, you should pick up a copy.  Check it out.  Read it and think on it.  Let it soak into your soul.  You won’t regret it.  Leo is a beacon of hope.

Peace be with you, people.  Cheers!

Help the Children ~ Northern Thailand


We would like to raise enough money to help the next village school.

We usually raise around 150,000bht (5,000USD).  We would like to raise that amount for our January trip to Northern Thailand.

This will allow us to re-build a school, feed the children, rent vehicles to get out to the village and provide new clothes, school supplies and toys for the children.

The funding will go towards food and supplies.

We usually feed three meals a day for two to three villages full of children for a week (300 children and their families).

We rent local vehicles from around Chiangmai for a week to carry us and the supplies out to the village.

We purchase a years worth of school supplies and deliver them to a village.  If we have more supplies than one village school will need, we take the remainder and give them out to other villages in the Hill Tribe Area.  Last year, we were able to help several schools in the area.

We purchase clothing, shoes and winter coats for the children as well.  We usually purchase clothing on the Thai-Burmese border.  We can obtain mass amounts of clothing from this area fairly cheaply.  We donate all of this clothing to the children and in some cases to the local adults.  On the border, we purchase “lots” full of children’s clothing.  However, one never knows what will be in the mix.  Any adult clothing that we obtain, we hand out at the village.

Last year, we had enough left over clothing to pass out to several villages along our route.

We also hope to raise enough funds to employ a full time teacher and teaching assistant for this village for a year.

We will use all funds raised to help these children.

I am donating all supplies and materials for the perks as the first donation.

The perks for this handmade Jewelry from Wanderluster Dreams on



Impossible Endeavor

Language has not the capacity.

There are no words.

There are no photographs.

There is no flower arrangement.

There is no gift or act.

None are sufficient.
To express my love for you would take a thousand lifetimes and a million acts of kindness, warmth and caring.
A thousand tears shed, a thousand smiles shared, a thousand laughs enjoined would be all for naught.
I feel as though I am helpless in this endeavor.
To express my love for you.

Sex in the War Zone

Prostitution wasn’t rampant on the bases in Afghanistan.  It was there, though.  The running joke was the “Thirty Five Dollar Haircut.”  The Army and Air Force Exchange Service or AAFES (Ay-feez) ran a Beauty Salon at the Post Exchange (PX) complex on Bagram Airfield (BAF).  All of the girls who worked there were from Bishkek or Karshi Khanabad in the Kyrgyz Republic.  Some of them were beautiful.  You could get a haircut, a manicure, pedicure or a massage.  For a month or so in early 2004, you could get a blow job.  All you had to do was walk in and ask for the 35$ hair cut.  Of course, it was illegal.  As soon as they caught the girls, they fired them and sent them home.

At about the same time, the Army caught a young, pretty Airman selling it for fifty bucks a pop.  This girl was caught in an affair with a married guy.  He found out about some extracurricular activities of hers and he wasn’t happy.  She was prostituting herself out. These two had a knock down drag out fight over it.  The Chain of Command got wind of it and investigated.  When the affair was revealed, they sent the couple home for a court martial proceeding.  Instead of letting the couple pack their bags, they sent them straight to the flight line.  The female Airman kept demanding to be allowed to go back to her hooch to grab her “personal gear.”  She was so insistent that her Chain of Command went to her room and conducted a search.  In Afghanistan, the authorities do not need a search warrant.  There’s no due process.  You’re already in prison.  They can pretty much do as they please.  While searching her room, they found her “personal gear.”  Under her mattress in a package was over fifteen thousand dollars.  They also found several boxes of condoms.  It was mostly fifty dollar bills.  This gal had only been there for three months and had amassed fifteen thousand dollars.  Fifty bucks at a time.  You do the math.

It took a while for the Army to finish it’s investigation on this Airman.  When they finished, the story came out on the operation.  This girl actually advertised through her customers.  She would leave a sock outside her door.  If the sock was on the door, she was busy with someone.  No sock and you simply knocked, walked in and handed her fifty bucks.  She was doing everyone — Marines, Soldiers, Enlisted, Officers, Contractors.  If you could come up with fifty bucks, it was on.  I was told that there were lines outside her door at times.  How in the hell did that go on for three months with no one noticing?

In 2006, I was living on Camp Phoenix.  At the time, I worked for ManTech Inc.  I would go to the Beauty Salon once a week to get a massage.  I always got the same girl because the others were too brutal.  One week, I show up and my girl isn’t there.  So I ask Oksana, the manager, where she was.  Oksana tells me that she had to send her home.  When I asked why, she wouldn’t tell me.  I thought that was funny but no big deal.

Later that day, I found out what happened.  About two weeks earlier, there was a chlymidia epidemic.  Some guy had brought it back from his leave.  He went to the medical station to get it fixed. A few days later, a couple of guys came in with the same problem.  Later, more still came in.  Then the girls started showing up.  All of them with chylimida.  I think they may have had gonorrhea as well.

The Army decided to investigate the mini-outbreak.  They discovered that the girls who worked at the beauty salon were prostituting.  I don’t know how much it was, but, it was all going well until that one guy brought back his STDs and passed them on to one of the girls.  It spread like wildfire from that point.

Apparently, none of these guys or gals had discovered the benefits of condoms.  I’m sure that there were more involved.  The guys who came in for STDs were all disciplined under the UCMJ.  The girls were all sent back home.  The beauty salon hired new girls.

After that incident, the Army made the beauty salon girls move to a safe house Kabul.  None of them could live on the bases in or around Kabul anymore.

Here’s some irony for ya.  General Order #1 prohibits sexual intercourse in the war zone.  Yet, every PX on every base in Afghanistan is always stocked with condoms.   Huh?

***I am not saying that all Kyrgyz women are prostitutes or whores.  That was simply the nationality of the girls in these particular incidents.***



If I could have just one wish,
I would wish to wake up everyday
to the sound of your breath on my neck,
the warmth of your lips on my cheek,
the touch of your fingers on my skin,
…and the feel of your heart beating with mine…
Knowing that I could never find that feeling
with anyone other than you.

On Religious Tolerance and Acceptance

Muslims can be tolerant and Muslims can avoid hostility towards others. To do so, they must disregard whole passages in their Qu’ran.

The same is true of Christians and Christianity.

Both are world devouring religions. Anyone who denies this is denying the message of their religion. Both religions teach that they are the true religion and that all others are false. There is no tolerance in that dogma. Both preach that unbelievers, heretics and infidels are going to hell. Both agree that homosexuality is an abomination. Both are patriarchal versions on life that preach that the man is the leader of the household. Both call the other and all others false.

The ultimate goal of both religions is the conversion/reversion of all of the peoples of the world. Both have tried to convert by force of Arms. One is attempting to do so today.

I know this will offend the Islamophiles and Christians on this board. If you are honest with yourself, you will admit the truth of it, though.

There is simply no room for tolerance in either religion for true believers. For those who pick and choose what they wish from the religions, tolerance and the better form acceptance is possible. For those who take a literal view, tolerance is only a stop gap. Acceptance is impossible.

Therefore, in the end, neither religion can truly tolerate the other or any other. All of this talk of tolerance and acceptance is merely chimerical voodoo. It merely delays the inevitable conflict.

America preaches freedom of religion. We practice it as well. For the most part. Reality on the ground is that all are free to practice their religion of choice in America. Practitioners are not free from criticism. Neither are they free from attack. Physical, spiritual or otherwise.

One is free to choose. Free to practice. Free to preach.

This freedom is only possible in the West. In the lands occupied by Islam, this is not possible. Islam prohibits this. Islam prohibits proselytizing of other faiths. Islam severely restricts the practice of other religions. Muslims scream to the high heavens about tolerance in the West. In the East/Occupied Lands, they speak not of tolerance. They act as if it is the natural order that no other be allowed to freely preach their religion or seek converts. Even in the most Western or least Islamically dogmatic countries such as Egypt and Turkey, seeking converts is problematic. One’s life is at risk.

Yet, Muslims and in some cases the same Muslims who would react violently to Christians proselytyzing in Muslim lands come to America and abuse our freedoms in order to seek converts (reverts) to their religion.

When do we start to hold them to account for their actions. They come here and are allowed to build their Mosques and bristle at any criticism and any challenge to their aggressive campaigns against other religions. Then they go home and act in the exact opposite manner that they expect Westerners to act towards them in the West.

Eventually, the two systems must clash.

Either that or Christianity lays down and Islam becomes the dominant religion on the planet.

What happens then?

Is an Islamic America still America or is it simply another Muslim Occupancy wherein Sharia becomes the law of the land?

Imagine a majority Muslim America. How long do the freedoms and liberty last?

On the other hand, imagine a truly Christian America. How long til freedoms are reversed. Christians led by the Republican Party wish to add religious laws to our legal code. They wish to make homosexuality a legal abomination. They wish to reverse divorce laws. There is much, much more that Christians speak to when they are amongst themselves.

Both of these patriarchal religions are intolerant and un-accepting of any other order. Both wish to re-make the world in their chosen religions image.

That! I find dangerous and offensive.

Christians at this moment use the systems in place to further their agenda. Muslims are beginning to do so. Muslims are a minority in America for the foreseeable future. And thank the Gods this is so. I’ve lived and traveled in Muslim lands. I can tell you for certain that not many of you would be comfortable in these places.

Neither would I be comfortable in a truly Christian land.

I am comfortable in America. For now. If the Right gets it’s way, there may come a day when America becomes unpalatable to me.

That day is not yet here. Thankfully, the radical Christians are peaceable for the most part and are willing to use the systems in place to further their agenda.

There are no true Christian lands. There are only lands wherein Christians live. Such has not always been the case. I would say that I hope this trend never reverses itself.

As well, I hope that Islam does not make any further advances. That includes Israel.

Every land wherein Islam is the power is a backward place. I’ve been to most of them. There is a reason for this and it isn’t Colonization by Western powers. The backwardness of these provinces of man are the reason that they were so easily colonized.

Islam is a danger. It’s not the danger that is preached by the Homeland Security types. It may come to pass that is becomes that great a danger. This is why I am against any Wahhabi mosque being established in America. Wahhabism is the greatest evil of all time. And it is not a new evil. It is a yoke on the spirit and free will of mankind. It is violent. It carries with it death.

IT is worth fighting on all fronts. It is worth laying aside tolerance and acceptance and becoming intolerant and unaccepting. Wahhabism should never be allowed on our shores.

It is too late for this as in our weakness and folly, we have allowed it to reach our shores.

The backlash that could occur here is dangerous. People could flee to Christianity and become rigid. Freedoms could be lost in our search for security against the very danger that we invited in to our home.

Think hard about these things.

The threat is there. It is looming. It very well may bring us down.

Rome did not think she would fall to the Barbarians. Britain laughed at the Colonists as well as at Gandhi. The Holy Roman Empire and the Christian Kingdoms of Europe laughed once at Islam.  The Roman Pagans once laughed at and persecuted Christians.

We are there again.

Laugh at your peril. Dismiss the danger at your peril.

Gifts from Amrikkiya

Since the Larry Vaught article a few people sent messages via email that they were sending gifts for my kids.  The first box arrived on Wednesday night.  I called and asked the military for a ride to the RHQ and took the gifts to Nahida, Jalil and Ali.  They were so excited to receive the toys and other items.  It was a cool day for all of us.

This particular box was from a friend from WildcatNation ~ PsychoCat.   Thanks to PsychoCat, I was finally able to give some real girly stuff to Nahida.  Like I said earlier, I’m clueless as to what a girl might want. Nahida loved the gifts and so did the boys. We played frisbee together for about a half hour and then I watched as the boys wrestled and tried to go all John Cena on me. lol Their words, not mine. I barely know who John Cena is…

I want to get these pics posted and I’m tired.  So since a picture speaks a thousand words…

Nahida is so much more vibrant in person than these pics portray.  She’s just super shy.  A lot of it is cultural.  I showed her a picture of my girlfriend Unny and told her that Unny said hello and that she (Nahida) was “such a pretty little gal.”  You should have seen her smile when I told her that.  So cute.  She seemed extremely reluctant to give it back to me.  So I gave it to her.  She kept looking at it.  Then she’d put it in her pocket and then take it out again for a peek.  She asked Shoaib to tell me that Unny was “besyar makbullah.”    I laughed and smiled and told her that I agreed.

Habibi and the Egyptian Papyrus


I bought this in Cairo.  Usually, I’m simply not into this kind of art.  The whole papyrus thing has never excited me.  But this darker piece and the three ladies interested me for some reason.  The feminine is always fascinating to a man, I suppose.  So I asked the proprietor his price.

He tells me “1500 EGP.”

I laughed.  Loudly.

That’s about two or three hundred dollars.

I haggled back and forth with him.

Finally, I told him that I’d give him 50 bucks for it.   “AND NOT A PENNY MORE!”

He tried to get me to accept the same painting on a smaller piece of papyrus.

I just laughed at him again.  Told him that his store looked pretty empty to me so he’d better take the sale while he had it.  Because it was about to walk out his front door.

He acquiesced.

I think he finally saw the wisdom in making a sale rather than attempting to bugger another tourist.

I was wrong.

He carries the piece over to his counter and starts to retrieve packaging for it.  A tube and some wrapping paper and a certificate of authenticity.  He hands me a receipt on which he’s written 300 EGP as the sale price.  I laugh at him.

I say;  “Dude, 300 EGP is 60 bucks.  We agreed on 50.”

Achmed the Papyrus Proprietor replies; “It’s only 10 dollars more.”

I tell him; “That’s ten bucks more than agreed.”

And I start to walk out of the store.

He tells me that he’ll change the price on the receipt and tells me to pay at the cash register.

I tell him;  “NO WAY!  Wrap up my purchase and hand it to me and I’ll hand you the 250EGP.”

He and his compatriots stare at me.

I tell them; “Dudes, if you want the money, wrap up the papyrus in one of those pretty little tubes and hand it to me.

You do that.  I’ll give you the money.  Until then, no one gets a dime out of me.”

Finally they relent.  I get my papyrus in the handy dandy little scroll carrying tube and a quaint little certificate of authenticity.  They get their money.

After returning to Herat in mid August, I unpacked.  Found the papyrus in my bag and threw it into the corner.  Wondering why I’d bought it.  It was a nice piece.  And the three ladies are brilliantly done.  And, admittedly, it’s a gorgeous piece.  But what was I gonna do with it.  Certainly not tack it to my wall in my hooch.

So it sat in the corner.  Forgotten.  Until…

December 25th.

On the 24th, I arrived in Bangkok for my R&R.  I had a lunch date.


She called me and told me to meet later.  5 PM.  AND…she’s bringing a friend.

I agreed.  I’m excited to meet this girl but now I’m a bit apprehensive.  Thinking that maybe she is going to blow me off.  Call again and tell me that she can’t meet me.

We agree to meet at Gulliver’s Tavern on Sukhumvit Soi 5.

So I walk down there a bit early.  Want to make sure that I’m not late.

She calls to tell me that she’s on the way.

BUT…she and her friend decide to stop at Starbucks.  Right at the end of the Soi (street).

I’m not getting a full appreciation of what is going on at this point.  Kinda freaked out.  Why did they stop down there to get a coffee if we are supposed to have dinner.  I guess they were tired and needed a caffeine jump start.

She texts me and asks me if I’m coming or going to wait at Gulliver’s.  I walk down to Starbucks.  I walk in to Starbucks and immediately recognize both of them.  Two diminutive, yet stunning, Thai girls sitting right at the door. Unny–the girl I came to meet and Khanitta, her friend.  I’ve seen Khanitta’s pictures on the website  So I know who she is.  I had erroneously assumed that she was married or otherwise involved with another fellow.

Now, I’m not scared of women.  But I get a bit nervous at times.  This is such a time.  I have to entertain two gorgeous Thai ladies now.  How to do so?  Luckily, it turns out to be easy.  They were incredibly easy going.  They didn’t have to be coaxed into talking or joking around.  They weren’t difficult.  Maybe, we just had good chemistry.  Part of it is that I’m so relaxed in Thailand that I’m easy as well.

After finishing their coffees, we walk up to Gulliver’s.  We are seated.  We eat.  We chat.  We get along pretty well.  By now, it’s getting on 8 PM.  Khanitta suggests that we walk down the street to Soi 4.  I’m a bit shocked by this as Soi 4 is part of the “dark side” of Thailand.  It’s bar girl [prostitute] central.

We make the trek down Sukhumvit Road to Soi 4 and go to a bar called Big Mango.  It’s a little dive in a back alley off of Soi 4.  It’s a decent joint with a bit of personality.  A smallish room with a square bar in the middle and a pool table in the back near the restrooms.   We walk in and Khanitta introduces me to two of her friends–Tony and Stevie.  Two Scottish fellows.  Mid-40s or so.  Stevie is a nice, laid back fellow.  Tony seems a bit mad to me.  He seems to be attempting to shock everyone with how crass he can be.  I’m not the most tactful fellow on the planet.  Tony makes me seem quite the diplomat by comparison.

Khanitta, Stevie and I play a bit of pool   I get my ASS handed to me by both Khanitta and Stevie.  Too nervous to play pool at this point.  (Give me a couple drinks and I’d play better.  lol)   Unny sits at a table behind us watching.  I don’t know what to think about her at this point.  The usual.  Is she interested?  What to talk about to keep in interesting?  How to act?  What’s next.  Should I just give it up and call it a friendly night out with a couple of gorgeous ladies and count myself blessed.  I can always meet someone later at Q Bar or one of the countless clubs and after hours bars in Bangkok.  Never had a problem with meeting women in Bangkok.

But I like her.  So I try to be patient.

Tony at one point tells me loudly.  “Just remember lad.  When you’re back home, we’re fucking them.”  I look at him and think to myself.  “Yeah, right.  There’s not many women that you’re fucking that you haven’t paid.”  I chuckle to myself and walk over and miss my shot on the pool table.  Stevie, aside from being a generally good guy, is a pretty good pool player.  So he takes me out easily.

We spend an hour or so there and then we head out.

It’s time to hit the Q Bar.

At the Q Bar, we lounge in the corner room on a couple of couches that I’ve reserved for the festivities that I’m hoping will be my Birthday.  The waiter brings over the two bottles of Jack Daniels that I’ve ordered for the occasion.  Khanitta and I pour ourselves a drink with a liberal amount of Jack.  Unny sips on a Coke.  She doesn’t seem to be too much into drinking.  She only weighs about 90 pounds.  I understand a reluctance to drink for her part.  Can’t take too much to get her fairly well lit.  Khanitta drinks like a pro, though.  lol

Eventually folks from TF start showing up.  Emma (EmoKitty) and Oh  (I’m Back).  Stevie makes it over.  And a few others.  It’s a pretty good time.  And I’m pretty lit.  I can’t remember the names of anyone to whom I was introduced that night.  But all nice folks and we all got pretty hammered.

I spend most of my time sitting with Unny.  Trying to talk to her.  Trying to get to know her.  Just looking at her because she is so breathtakingly beautiful.  I get up and mingle with others as well.  We make toasts and generally act as people do when imbibing heavily.  Khanitta has her camera with her and takes tons of pics.  Khanitta is a really wild and fun gal.  I was happy that Unny brought her along.  She’s the life of any party.

Emma brought me a little Strawberry dessert thingie.  It seems like someone sang the “Happy Birthday” song to me.

I went outside a couple of times to talk to family.  I think I got Terry, Ginger, Jonathan and Momma on the phone that night.

It was  a great birthday.

But the best part of it was meeting Unny.

She was pretty quiet and shy.  I was starting to doubt that she was interested in me until I went outside and one of the girls asked me if I wanted to go have some real fun or if I was going to stay with my “shadow.”

When I realized who she was talking about, it was all I could do to suppress the smile.  I really wanted to get to know Unny.  If this gal was noticing this then I probably stand a good chance of getting a second date with her.

So I declined the invitation and hung tight with Unny.

At some point, we all part ways.  Q Bar closes at 2 AM.  So I’m sure that it was 2 AM.  Unny, Khanitta and I rolled down Soi 11 to the Ambassador Hotel’s Spice Club.  It’s an after hours bar.  Stays open late…until 6 AM on some nights.

Unny was still being a bit of a wallflower.  I got a bit too drunk and start telling her that  she is “the most beautiful girl” and some other nonsense that probably bored the piss out of her.  At one point, I realize that I’m probably making an ass out of myself.  So I tell her;  “You probably get this kind of talk all the time.”  And I vaguely remember apologizing to her for boring her to tears and being lame.  haha

Khanitta and I get up on the stage at Spice Club and dance together.  We both try to get Unny to come up with us.  But she’s either too shy or doesn’t really like to dance.  At this point.   For some odd reason that I don’t recall, I decide that it would be a good ieda to pick Unny up [and carry her to the dance floor?].  This royally angers her.  Little gal.  Cute as hell.  Probably has had a problem with this before.  Doesn’t appreciate the loss of control or being manhandled by an idiot.  She’s pissed.  She stomps off.

I’m standing there in shock.  Thinking to myself.  “Dave!  You DUMBASS!!!  You just royally fucked it all up there…retard!”

So I just kind of stand there.  Figure I’ll wait for a minute and then head back to the room.

As I start to get up to walk out of Spice to head back to the room, Khanitta walks back in and tells me to come on.  I’m a bit surprised.

Unny had told her to come get me.

My luck has held through.  Unny still isn’t completely turned off by my buffoonery.  haha

So I walk out and sheepishly join up.  I apologize.

Then I notice that I’m drunk AND hungry.

I suggest that we go eat on Sukhumvit Road.  One of the street vendors that sells “Isaan food.”

We walk on down to the Suk.  Grab a couple of chairs and eat fried rice and whatever else is on the menu.  Sit there and chat for a bit.

After eating, we head home.

Next day, I text Unny and ask her to meet me again after she gets off work.  To my amazement, she agrees.

We spend all that night talking.  Just talking.  It’s one of the nicest nights I’ve spent in Bangkok.  Talking about anything with the most beautiful girl in the world.  I can’t take my eyes off of her.

All the while, I’m thinking to myself.  “This girl reminds me of someone.”

After a bit, I remember theEgyptian ladies on the papyrus that I had purchased in Cairo.  Unny has the same eyes.  Almost the same nose.   I decide at that moment that I will send it to her as thanks for making my time in Bangkok so enjoyable.

About ten days later, I’m at the Camp Stone APO with the papyrus in hand.  It takes a month to get there.

When Unny receives it, she texts me excitedly to tell me that she loves it.  As well as the little post card inscription that I’d sent with it.  I’ll let that be between us, though.

What you see in the pictures is the result of this little story.

And with the blessings of the Gods, there will be many more stories to relate about Unny and Dave.




When love beckons to you, follow her,
Though her ways are hard and steep.
And when her wings enfold you yield to her,
Though the sword hidden among her pinions may wound you.
And when she speaks to you believe in her,
Though her voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall she crucify you. Even as she is for your growth so is she for your pruning.
Even as she ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall she descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn she gathers you unto herself.
She threshes you to make you naked.
She sifts you to free you from your husks.
She grinds you to whiteness.
She kneads you until you are pliant;
And then she assigns you to her sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Kahlil Gibran, On Love

She is…

Love Me If You Can

Sometimes I think that war is necessary.
Every night I pray for peace on Earth.
I hand out my dollars to the homeless.
But believe that every able soul should work.

My father gave me my shotgun that I’ll hand down to my son, try to teach him everything it means.

I’m a man of my convictions. Call me wrong, call me right. But I bring my better angels to every fight. You may not like
where I’m going, but you sure know where I stand. Hate me if you want to, love me if you can.

I stand by my right to speak freely. But I worry ’bout what kids learn from TV. And before all of debatin’ turns to angry
words and hate, sometimes we should just agree to disagree. And I believe that Jesus looks down here and sees us, and if you
ask him he would say

I’m a man of my convictions. Call me wrong, call me right. But I bring my better angels to every fight. You may not like
where I’m going, but you sure know where I stand. Hate me if you want to, love me if you can.

I’m a man of my convictions. Call me wrong, call me right. But I bring my better angels to every fight. You may not like
where I’m going, but you sure know where I stand. Hate me if you want to, love me if you can.

I love this song.   Dave

Esther June (Hall) — my Grandma Esther


grandma-esther-and-grandpa-norman.jpg grandma-esther-and-grandpa-norman-166-south-pope-street.jpg

My Grandmother was one of a kind. She was kind and loving and supportive of me in my early years. She was just an awesome Grandmother. She was taken away from us too early. I sometimes wonder how different life would have been with her around. How much different I would have been. How much different the family would be. I know she loved me. I remember spending many a summer night with her. Carl Junior and Todd would be there at times as well. Those were some of the best days of my early childhood.

Funny, in those days, kids were allowed in bars. And every neighborhood, it seemed, had a corner tavern. Grandma and Grandpa Norman would cart us along and give us quarters to play pinball or the bowling game at Vernon’s Bar. They’d give us money to run across the street to the corner grocer to buy some comic books and candy. Then we’d sit at one of the tables and read, play, daydream or nap as they drank a few beers or whiskey sours, smoked Pall Malls and Chesterfields and share the weeks gossip and events. After a bit, we’d wrap it up and go back to the house. Grandpa would watch the news and Grandma Esther would call around to friends and gossip. I remember well her conversations with Aunt Bea Pitt.

It was a different world back then. And Grandma Esther was one of the best things about that bygone era.

Grandma Esther loved the beer barrel polka. She loved the US. She loved her children to a fault. She loved her Grandchildren (I’m certain that would have been to a fault as well. lol) She was the first person to teach me how to be patriotic. To love my country. She was highly superstitious. She loved people. She was trusting.

These are the things about her that I remember through the eyes of a child. I was around 12 or so when she passed.

The thing I remember most is how much I loved her, how much she loved me and how safe I felt with her.

I know life in those days was not perfect. We all have our faults. There are other times to speak of these things.

For now, this is my remembrance of a woman who in my memory was an awesome Grandmother. Who loved me. Who I loved and still love dearly.

Happy Birthday, Grandma Esther.