I Blew Myself Up In 2 Seconds- It's Bad

Finally, the ambulance arrives. several EMT's jump out like a SWAT team. The State cops try to look like they were doing something important and then slowly dissolve into the background.

The main EMTbarks out orders to his helpers:

"I'm going to need a sheet, oxygen and scissors...get the scissors ready! Get those boots off him!"

He asks me my name and then says,

"Well Randy, I'm going to level with you. It's bad."

My mind tries to comprehend what that means. What is bad? My melted wrist? My white, and now hairless, stomach? My Face (which I can't see)? For a few seconds I don't feel the pain because I want to know what he means by "bad."

"You've got third degree burns over about 18% of your body."

I try to do some math and can't. The pain flushes back over my stomach, arms and face. I try to speak but can only moan. This really sucks because I want to ask questions and I can't get the words out before he give me another wave of information.

"We're going to get you to the hospital. OK? How do you feel?"

I try to lean up a little and I ask how bad my face is. He takes pause and measures my face with a critical look.

"Your face isn't that bad...looks to be just a first degree. Did you get any flames or fuel in your mouth or eyes?"

He sticks a tongue depressor down my throat.

Meanwhile, a male and female EMT take my shoes off and cut off my socks. I wonder if I'm wearing clean underwear. I begin to realize that this will not be a quick ride to the hospital, ice-cream, and then release home with pain-killers. I start to wonder if I can avoid having a skin-graft.

The EMT's and police lift me onto the sheet and then lift me into the Ambulance. The ambulance is warm and this makes my skin BURN like hell. I fall into a deeper wave of pain as the ambulance pulls out.

Nitzsche

We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.

Abbie Hoffman

It's OK to yell "theater" at a crowded fire

Unfortunately, there is no "I" in "Union"

There are few things I dislike more than going to a Quaker Meeting where you are supposed to sit in silence unless moved by the Spirit only to experience the non-stop preaching of bleeding hearts. One thing, however, I dislike even more is a unionization campaign that lives up to every bad, right-wing cliché Rush Limbaugh could come up with. A Union is meant to bring workers together so that they can negotiate situations where they are being oppressed. I don't use this term lightly. I mean situations where, in the old days, workers were in danger of dying in horrible working conditions or, these days, where workers are robbed by corporations making huge profits while they are paid peanuts.

Somewhere in between meeting the very real needs of people and bringing them together has developed the pitiful practice of too-educated, paid union "organizers" who have absolutely no idea of what working people want or where unionization is needed. Enter my Local branch of the New York State Teacher's Union and their attempt to organize a handful of disgruntled employees at the school where I work.

Thus far the Union has aligned itself with employees who have sent anonymous hate emails to fellow workers, made ridiculously untrue statements and tried to pass them off as "facts," and whose organizing attempts have been so easily diffused with simple, logical arguments that it makes even the most committed radical long to stay underground. Who the Union has aligned with is only outdone by the Local's organizing ineptitude. After numerous meetings and a real opportunity to educate people, no employee can articulate what they actually want from the administration. It's almost as if Winnie The Pooh got the animals of the 100 acre Wood together and then forgot what he wanted to tell them. What, then, has surfaced in this vacuum is an Eyesore-like pessimism. Apparently no one has taken a moment to stop and ask themselves "What do I want?"

Solidarity just for unity's sake may feel good... but it won't win you a good contract.

I Blew Myself Up in 2 seconds- First Response

As I lay on the ground dazzled by the fact that I had just blown myself up in 2 seconds, I could only moan. I had not only been on fire but had been in an explosion which left my mind boggled, eyes rolling around and all...even a little tweedy bird chirping. I also had the taste of gasoline-heat-ash in my throat.

Here I will not go into what my father was doing and how he was acting while calling 911 and then my mother and then my internet-girlfriend whom I never met and, as it turned out, became something of a stalker. Those stories are for another time.

Let me tell you that for the first 3 minutes I felt very little pain. Here are my thoughts:

'My stomach looks OK, doesn't it? A bit white...too white...maybe just a short ride to the hospital, a few bandages and some ice cream and I'll be fixed right up. Boy, I hope this doesn't take long.'

With every passing minute, however, the pain is clarified. It comes in 10 second waves, expanding and contracting like a heartbeat or labor. I feel this primarily on my stomach, chest and arm. I look up at the melted flesh on my wrist.

'I wonder if I can put that skin back and smooth it out instead of leaving it all twisted like that? Oh, shit! Is this the hand I strum the guitar with or the hand with the fingers that push down on the strings? Left hand, so definitely the wrist that needs to bend over the neck of the guitar. Shit!'

The State police arrive and, having no idea what to do, start asking me insurance questions while inspecting the barrel and what was left of the gas-can. My moans get louder. The only thing that brings me any comfort is moaning. Now I know why the word "Ohm" is sacred in the Hindu religion.

"Ohhhhhh"....'that feels good'...."Ohhhhhh"...'that feels ok'...."Ohhhhhhh"....'It fucking hurts'....."Ohhhhhhhh"...'where the fuck is 911?'

I look down at my stomach

'Hmmm...my nipples are not burned but my chest is. How can that be? Hmmm. Ohhhhhhh....that hurts.'

Pins and needles attack every part of my body.

'Shouldn't I throw-up? Should I pass out? Wait. If you pass out do you die? "Ohhhhhhh"....'where the fuck are they.'

Being "Fair Weathered" Isn't Just for Liberals Anymore

I recently had an interesting argument with my cousin revolving around ex-President Bush, the War in Iraq and our new President, Barak Obama.

Here's the set-up:
My cousin is a professed Born Again "Christian," and also a self-proclaimed "Conservative" and he says as much on his Facebook site. In the vast rush of Facebook "updates," "Wall comments," "little green patches," and group "invites," that he has sent, I've never seen anything remotely resembling an anti-war statement. What I have received are statements like "God Bless The Troops" and video links on Creationism.

Now, being a rather left-of-center dude who is relishing in the current demise of neo-cons, I naturally confront him on his Christian Conservative support for Bush and the War effort. I want to stick the knife in...and deep! However, I am utterly astonished to hear him say, "When have I ever supported George Bush? When have I ever supported the War? How do you think Barak Obama got elected if not with our votes?"

And then I start to realize that, all of sudden, he's not alone! There are now millions of Christians and Conservatives saying exactly the same thing! I hear it daily on the news and in discussions and blogs, the CC's distancing themselves from the War and the Cheney/Rove agenda. My God! What a turn of events! Amazing Grace! Divine intervention-

Naw....it's just the latest evolution in politics. Apparently being fair-weathered isn't just for Liberals anymore.

3am Raisin and Spice Sugar Shot

If you're like me, you like to get up at about 3am and eat sugar. Sometimes all you have is Raisin and Spice instant oatmeal and milk. It takes time to get a bowl and heat it up and you want to get back to bed. So here's a great tip on how to cut out the middle-man:

Ingredients:
1 packet of Raisin and Spice Instant Oatmeal (substitute your own favorite flavor).
1 Carton of milk.

Recipe:
Open packet of instant oatmeal by tearing just the top off the packet. Form packet into a funnel. Lean your head back and pour a tablespoon (about one mouthful) of instant oatmeal into your mouth. Quickly open the milk and pour a tablespoon into your mouth. Begin chewing. As you chew, the oatmeal and milk mix into a delicious blend of sugar-milk.

Repeat until contents of instant oatmeal package are gone. Go back to bed. No messy bowls or silverware involved.

Revolting Thoughts

1. It is important for citizens to "think."

2. Progress comes in unexpected leaps, not organized stages (Sorry to all you Dogmatic Marxists).

3. One of the responsibilities of citizenship is to seek AND SPEAK the Truth.

Finally, Proof that God Exists

There was a boy sitting at his desk in school.
The boy, Carl, and his class were learning about the beginning of humankind.
The Teacher said:

"God created Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden which was a paradise of Heaven.
And that is where Mankind began. How do we know this is true class?"

And the class intoned, "Because it is written in the Bible."

Carl raised his hand and asked, "When we read the Bible are we reading a story?"

The teacher replied, "Yes, it is the story of Mankind told by God to his children who wrote it down."

"How do we know that the story is true?" asked Carl.

The teacher walked over to his desk, took out a yardstick and brought the thin, wood plank squarely across Carl's face with a loud "WHACK!" Knocking Carl and his chair over as the rest of the class sat in horror.

"That is how we know the story is true."

World War I 1916

With the German and Austrian regiments about to over-run them, a group of Russian soldiers showed their usual stoicism. When asked what they were going to do? With a laugh, they replied:

"But of course...We will retreat to the Urals and by the time the Germans and Austrians get there they will only be one soldier of each army left. As is tradition, the Austrian will surrender and we will shoot the German."

The Last Capitalist

The Last Capitalist 

Will Sell The Rope to 

The Revolutionary Who Hangs Him.

When All Else Fails

When every other avenue has been exhausted 

You can always count on Americans to do the right thing 

Thoughts of Peace (Kim's Song)

Thoughts of Peace, Thoughts of Praise,
They bring me closer to you these days.

Let grace pick me up,
and spin me around,
Then put me back down right where I belong.

Wake me up
To this place I have come.
To see that It's all around and It's in everyone

Like a bird that sings a song so sweet
You bring me
Thoughts of Praise and Thoughts of Peace

I blew myself up in 2 seconds

It was a brisk, beautiful Saturday morning, March 23, 2008, about 10:30 am, when I blew myself up. It certainly was not planned. I had burned leaves and other flammable items probably 20 or 30 times before. It gave me great pleasure to rake up the leaves, pick up loose pine branches and sticks that had fallen to the ground and drop them in the now rusted and burnt barrel that I bought for $10 at a farm down the road. I'd toss in the occasional cigarette butt to ignite the whole thing.

10:31:17 am - I notice the flame traveling in a line straight up to the nozzle of the plastic, 5 gallon gas can I am holding. I begin to pull the gas tank up and away from the burn-barrel.

10:31:17 am - I look at the gas can and see that the flame follows it and goes in the nozzle. I begin to say the word "Oh" (as in "Oh Shit!").

10:31:18 am - I hear a loud "pop" and see a ring of fire emanate from the gas can down and over me.

10:31:19 am - I feel a hot blast of heat searing through my arms, face and stomach.

10:31:20 am - I see flames on my sweatshirt, hands and pants. My voice is no longer mine. It belongs to some primitive part of my genes turning the word "Oh" into a hideous groan that ends on a strange high note.

10:31:20 am - I think to myself, "I'm on fire." And drop the can.

10:31:21 am - I initiate trying to pat out the flames

10:31:21 am - while turning away from the barrel

10:31:21 am - and one third gallop, one third stumble, one third fall due north.

10:31:22 am - I consider whether to stop, drop and roll or pull flaming sweatshirt off up and over my head.

10:31:22 am - Decide to pull sweatshirt off.

10:31:23 am - Initiate process of pulling sweatshirt off and second scream bubbles up from some place deep inside through my throat and out. The sound of this scream frightens me.

10:31:23 am - I run into the side of the porch about 10 feet from the barrel and bounce of going due east. Third scream emanates from within me.

10:31:24 am - Sweatshirt is up and over my head.

10:31:24 am - I throw sweatshirt to the ground and see that my pants are on fire.

10:31:25 am - I stop, drop and roll. No more flames.

10:31:26 am - I lie on my side. I hold my left arm up and see that the skin going from my wrist to my hand is twisted and curved... melted really.

10:31:27 am - I thank God I am alive.

10:31:28 am - I wonder if my penis is ok?

10:31:29 am - I use my right hand to pull the pants away from my waist.

10:31:31 am - I see that I am ok and thank God again. Then I begin to wonder about my face.

10:31:35 am - I yell to my father to call 911.

10:51 am - Paramedics arrive.