I didn't like really cold weather
until recently:
when it's really cold outside,
and your nose runs,
and your eyes tear up,
like tonight, where it's 13 degrees,
nobody knows.

I didn't really like the rain
until recently:
when it's raining outside,
and the drops splash
onto your cheeks,
like the other day, when it poured,
nobody knows.

December 31, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

What a Dream

his lies made you so very sick,
but my truths made the ground under your feet too slick;
free of him, but just out of my reach,
dancing by yourself in the corner,
while I look on with envious eyes:
I would love to be that corner;
but I'm too far up the mountain for you;
you can hear me well enough,
but the clouds get in the way;
I only hope that I lose my footing,
and tumble down to you:
what a dream.

December 31, 2008, for She Who Cannot Be Named.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

That's my Job

She walked into my office and the first thing I noticed were her
breasts, hooters, tits, biguns, mammalian protuberances, high beams, male
magnets, twin peaks, milky globes, her double barreled bazookas, her blouse bunnies, her fun cushions, her racing zeppelins. The sight of them inspired me to look further at her bootylicious bod., her form, her bodacious curves.
The full sight was so overwhelming I was forced to put down my beer, brewski, Milwaukee's Mother's Milk, 12 oz. curler, brew, suds, head, frothy
"See anything you like?" She asked.

"Yea, You know you’re really sexy, hot, a babe, eye catcher, sizzler,
condom date, doable, a mountable muffin, great piece, fresh stuff."
"Yes, I know." She got a little grin, a smirk, flashed her pearly whites.
"Look, are you a college student?"
"Yup, a Iibbie lander, a fluff major. That's my job, That's what I do."
"Good, I need someone to do some research, Some fact checking, some paper pushing, some file fucking, some ROM reading, some muck raking." She said in a voice so husky it could pull a sled, So rasped you could use it as a file. "You see I'm investigating a murder, an offing, a hit, a snuff, a rub-out, a quick trip to the morgue. You see I'm a private detective, a dick, a gumshoe, a snoop, a flat-foot. That's my job, That's what I do."
"So who's the stiff, the wormfeast, the grease spot, the roadkill, the highway pizza, the buzzard breakfast, and are you sure he's dead, six feet under, pushing up the daisies, R.I.P., offed, turned blue, Zombified ?"

She leaned over my desk giving me a good enough look at her double D's to make my inner child hungry for lunch. "You’re on a need to know basis, Now will you help me?"
At that moment I'd do anything she asked because I noticed I had Morning wood, a stiffy, a hard-on, a boner, My purple-headed storm trooper was wanting to badger the witness, My seamen were wanting shore leave, My soldier was standing at attention yearning for her every word.
"Sure," I lit a cigarette, a butt, a coffin-nail, a cancer stick, a smoke,
a cowboy killer. "I'm your man Friday, your Sidekick, your Tag-along. That's my job, That's what I do."
"You'd better be straight with me, on the level, the up and up, legit, for real." Her green eyes were so piercing if I turned sideways I could put an earring in for free.
"Don't worry, Sweetheart, babe, sweeties, chick, hot momma, bodacious flesh, dish. I'm with you. But I need some money, some fundage, some moola, some dough, some bread, some greenbacks, some dead presidents. "
She pulled out a wad, a roll, a stash, of bills from a place that would make the presidents pictured on the bills stiffer than they already were.
" Here's a hundred, a C-note, a buck, a Ben Franklin and there's more where that came from."
I thought "breasts that gave money that's my ultimate wet-dream, soiled sheets, creamed dream, slippery slumber, That's enough to make the Pope masturbate, jerk-off, spank the monkey, shake hands with dick, beat his meat, slap his Weiner, Hold the sausage hostage, Jerk his gherkin, do the Masonic secret self handshake, blow a load."
I had to stop that chain of thought or I'd cream my jeans, fill my shorts, shoot my gun, have a preemie. But luckily I can Master my Johnson.
When I stood to grab the bill she glanced at my Package, my rod, my
shaft, my love organ, my loader, my willie, my loaded weapon.
"Is that a roll of pennies?" she asked.
"Yea, Do you want me to knock some cents into you?"
"After the jobs done I'll give you head, suck your duck, a blow-job, suck you off, beat you up and down, You'll be my straw and I love vanilla
"Can I eat you out, suck your clit, lick your bunny, sip your love nectar, give you a tongue lashing?"
"I'll even do it, get down, hump, grind, the wild thing, the nasty, the bedroom backstroke, make Kitty purr. As long as you practice safe sex, burn rubber, wrap your package, put a safety on your rifle."

"I always wear a condom, a trojan, a raincoat, a Venus glove. After all I'm not silly I cover my willie, I sheathe my bomber, I shield my yield, I put on a sock before entering a box. After all I'm not a Joey."
At that moment I wanted to ride her like a dolphin at Sea World. I came out from behind the desk and was about to kiss her and hug her and grab her lovely buttocks, butt, ass, Fannie, buns, booty. Because baby definitely got back. When two men in white suits came in.
"We're from the psych. center." One of them said.
"You mean the nuthouse, the funny farm, the crazyhouse, the Cookoo's nest, the loony bin, La La Land, fantasy island."
"Yes" He replied. "And she is an escaped mental patient."
"You mean a Nut, a wacko, a psycho chicken, a loon, a scitziod, a basket case, a psycho hose beast, a few cans short of a six pack, a unit."
"Yes, and now we have to take her away," He said regretfully. "I'm sorry, but it's my job, that's what I do."
I watched her go and said goodbye, hasta la vista baby, arriva derche,
choi, catch you later masturbator.
“In a while, pedophile.” Said the love of my life, my number one babe, the girl who makes me go schawing.
She stopped at the door and turned. "lt would never work we're from two different worlds, Your from Earth and I'm from the Twilight zone, the outer limits, the upper stratosphere."
"If only you weren't mental, off the beaten trail, out of touch, if your silicon chip hadn't gone into overload." I said lovingly.
"If only you weren't sane, grounded, focused, having all 52 cards” She replied and like Tito Jackson she was never seen again.
I sat down depressed, crushed, toppled over, my heart smushed flat. I grabbed my beer, my booze, my elixir of life, my mental lube and got back to my homework because I'm a college student, That's my job, that's what
I do.

Believe it or not this was project I turned in for a 300 level English course, I got a 4.0 out of 4.0 on it.


Missed You on the Sleigh

over ten days away yet
still the horse knows how
to pull the sleigh,
and all the way home;
it is too good to leave behind.
ah, baby, I should have known;
don't worry about tomorrow
too much, just nevermind;
this and that and sorrow,
let them go
and enjoy the ride.

December 30, 2008, for She Who Cannot Be Named.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Hi, Everybody!

We have some news for everyone.

REGARDING THE SITE: TIBU2.com will launch on or before February 1st. We know that 1-1-2009 was bandied about, but we'd like the site to be the best it can possibly be prior to launch. A login page may precede the official launch, so you'll be able to set-up your password and perhaps a few other profile features, and any such eventuality will be announced.

REGARDING THE TALKSHOE SHOW: It went off without a hitch. Apparently, some folks were unaware that it was happening, so here is the link to the MP3 archive of last night's show. Thank you to every who participated. The next show is in two weeks, on January 12th, 2009 at 8pm EST. After this second broadcast, we MAY be moving to a Sunday night time-slot to make it easier for folks to participate. Any changes or ideas will be announced here.

REGARDING THE BLOG: Some people are new here, and we've gotten many questions regarding specific users. There are four pages for TIBU2 here on Blogspot (due to a 100-person limit) and so some folks may be a little confused as to who's here and who's where and all that.

TIBU2- page 1:

TIBU2- page 2:

TIBU2- page 3:

TIBU2- page 4:


I left it here,
in the outer atmosphere;
might have been one time
when I was lookin' for you;
it had a cute red hat,
and it just looked at me and sat
in the corner and waved;
and now I can't
find it anywhere I look,
and I was wonderin' if
you maybe might have took
my heart.
Just one other thing,
you'd know if you had it,
'cause it can really sing.

December 30, 2008, for She Who Cannot Be Named.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

My Own Name

Tired of all the charades,
so tired of the whole game,
even tired of my own name.
Fed up with all of the lies,
the stares that hypnotize,
the smoke of death that fills the skies.
Just want it all to end,
leave like a long-lost friend,
love that I meant to send,
but I was paralyzed.
Enough is enough,
had all that I could stand,
spent way too much time crying,
and trying to understand.

December 29, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

How Much Head Should a Girl Give in a Day.

Girls are constantly coming up to me and asking me. “How many blowjobs should I give in a day?”
“How many have you given today?” Is the first question I always ask. When they tell me, I reply it’s that number + 1.
This formula works well for the girls that ask me that question, since they are imaginary.

However, if you happen to be flesh and blood, then a more scientific answer is needed.
The average male ejaculation is 35 calories of mostly protein, and 0 fat. So if a girl gives a few blowjobs a day it’s a very healthy source of protein and unless she’s on a very strict diet, it’s healthy for all involved.
When she starts give over 10 blowjobs a day on a regular basis, 350 calories, she should start to look into changing her diet to account for the extra calories. Luckily because it’s mostly calories from protein a moderate exercise program (I suggest strength training the arm that isn’t used to stroke the dick during the blowjob) will keep the body from turning it into fat.
When she starts giving over 42 to 43 blowjobs a day, on a regular basis it starts becoming a health concern, 1500 calories a day from protein can throw the body out of wack, unless she starts following a bodybuilders routine of strength training 3 hours a day.
When she starts giving over 71 to 72 blowjobs a day she starts having to worry about her nutritional intake. By getting the majority of her calories from sperm, her body would be deprived of vitamin C and she would risk getting scurvy, which can lead to liver spots, Spongy gums, bleeding gums, sunken eyes and nosebleeds. The bleeding gums and nosebleeds can seriously interfere with her blowjob schedule.
This was a problem that English Gentleman would run into, Dr James Lind in 1753 found that the effects of scurvy could be treated by eating lots of citrus fruit. That’s how the English became known as Limey Cocksuckers.
As long as she uses small amounts of something like banana cream on the dicks she sucks, combined with vitamin supplements she should be fine as long as she works out regularly.
When she starts giving over 100 plus blowjobs a day, the body has to do serious work to deal with the amount of protein she is receiving. The protein must be broken down into amino acids then into glucose in order to be used as an energy source. This takes time and can not be done fast enough to meet her bodies energy requirements making her body use up her fat reserves. Once they are depleted her body will no longer be able to produce the energy requirements needed to sustain basic life processes. This process of breaking down proteins into glucose also builds up ammonia, which the body has a hard time in getting rid of, a large buildup of ammonia is poisonous.
As with all dietary health issues, these problems only happen if a girl makes the blowjobs a major part of her diet. If a girl decides to splurge once in a while and give a few hundred blowjobs over a weekend the body can easily compensate for the extra protein.
Disclaimer: As with all diet and exercise programs, please consult your doctor before starting on a blowjob diet plan. If you do decide to go on a blowjob diet plan and cannot afford a doctor, I’m sure there is some doctor some where that will be glad to work something out with you.

This was originally posted at the old TIBU site and now no one will take it, I think it deserves a home. At least a few more laughs anyway.

A Crime

You telling me
that I couldn't love you anymore
Certainly was no crime,
But my believing it,
Certainly was.

December 29, 2008

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


The thick fog rolling in settles over everything:
The things we know by heart,
And the mysteries that can pop up and give us a start;
It covers the good and the mad,
The pretty and the glad,
As well as all of us cloaked in misery;
Our pain cries through the fog,
To the sea,
To the sea.

December 28, 2008

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Santa Claus with Guns and Fire

last night, a sociopath dressed as Santa Claus
murdered eight people and wounded several more
with guns
and then set the house on fire
with racing fuel,
and then shot and killed himself,
in Covina, California.

and you might have been unsure
if we are living in troubled times,
where too many of the troubled,
the tormented,
the pained and the outcast,
can get their hands on guns,
and do horrible things,
like shoot eight-year-old little girls
in the face,
or if it is just media hype
to sell cars
and blankets-with-sleeves.

no more doubt.

December 26, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Film at Eleven

you speak of torment,
well, baby, that's where my soul went,
down deep in that basement;
the one you prepared
for me;
goin' to Hell, baby?
not much of a maybe;
but I'm lucky,
I'll be takin' you with me.
so long, nice to meet you,
wish I could stay to greet you,
but I'm off to Heaven,
did my time in Hell already,
see you later, baby,
film at eleven.

December 29, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Only a Few of Them Out There

she was smart,
and pretty,
and funny,
and onceuponatime,
she could make a man
feel seams
where he didn't even know that
he had stitches.

December 28, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Three-Hour TIBU2 Talk-A-Thon Tonight!

Four people were signed on to listen in, and many more showed up. I was there- of course- and Ricky A. Pursley and the gentleman known as Iceberg Flats showed up as well. Ricky came in at about the twenty-minute mark, and Iceberg Flats came on in probably the last hour. The demise of ThisIsBy.Us was discussed- along with many several conspiracy theories, and- especially considering that it was a show with no format- a lot of information was exchanged and disseminated.
We had many anonymous users logging in and asking questions, and that part was good too- it added a bit of spice to the proceedings. All in all, not bad for a first time.

Here is the link to the mp3 archive of the show (2:58:00), 71.3MB download.

The next Talkshoe Event is planned for

01/12/2009 08:00 PM EST.

Thank you to Ricky and Iceberg and to everyone who was involved for their participation and kindness. I’ll talk to you next time.


Depression Coming

I went to Target today with my middle daughter and my youngest daughter;
The youngest drove, to rack up more hours toward getting her license;
They were going bargain shopping, and I was keeping my wallet
In my pocket,
Just like so many that I saw inside and outside the store:
Stained, scruffy clothes, day-old whiskers, worn-out shoes,
And dull, vacant eyes,
Just like me.

They're out there already.

Soon, we'll see the breadlines forming.

December 26, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Merry Christmas 2008

look, you silly slob, you've already
written six poems today,
although I will not speak to their value;
"Oh, what do you know, Muse,
You know nothing of real value;
It is my arrangement of words
That readers value,
Not you, nor your blessing,
That would be the turkey dropped,
In favor of the dressing."

Merry Christmas.

December 26, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


I keep rubbing the desktop,
trying to make the
condensation marks
go away;
after a dozen tries,
with no success
(story of my life),
I realize that they are
just shadows,
cast by the lamp
on the desk;
how much of the rest
of my life
can be explained
that way?

December 25, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Last night, my kidneys didn't feel so good,
but tonight, baby, they're a little less
So, if you'll just bend over
and pick up that bag o' groceries
that you dropped,
it'll help me decide
if I need another prop;
but either way, it's okay,
I know that it's me
who flopped.

December 25, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

One More Day

Walking, briefly, earlier tonight,
through the upscale restaurant
where people like me don't belong,
I saw the angry snarls and
the holiday growls --
those who just want it to be
all over.
And I think, well, why not,
it's a bargain worth considering:
take all those who are ready to go,
and leave the others to go on living.
But then I chuckle as I realize,
that those who want to check out,
are the ones who should be made to stay,
and the ones who want to go on,
well, they should be spared even
one more day.

December 25, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


peeing into the bathroom sink rather nonchalantly;
what the hell, it's a cheap motel room,
the maids clean it
at least once a day,
depending on what sort of vermin
it housed;
and he will soon be far away,
his urine stains
long dissipated
by Clorox,
and all signs of his visit, vanished;
along with his fake name and
phony address;
yesterday's condom,
now covered with tissues,
cigarette butts,
and food wrappers.

little that we expect is permanent,
actually is,
and what we expect is disposed,
really is;

whatever --

besides, right now,
he has to write something

December 25, 2008

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Putting a name to the malady nullifies it.
Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.
Naming your price makes you worthless.
Being known makes you easier to forget.

-DrLM 12-31-2008

Mia Farrow Wrong

You were wrong, to believe that there were
too many years between us;
You were wrong, because of Frank Sinatra
and Mia Farrow --
Although that ended in sorrow;
But still, you were wrong, because of
Woody Allen and Mia Farrow --
Well, okay, that one ended in sorrow too;
Hell, maybe you were right --
But if you were, it was all because of
Mia Farrow,
In which case, and for many other reasons,
You were wrong.
But you just wait and see.

December 25, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

The Big Squeeze

I said goodbye to her at the doorway of the restaurant tonight,
And thanked her again for including me;
And instead of the polite "you're welcome" that I expected,
She flung her arms wide,
Like she used to do,
A few lifetimes ago,
And wished me a Merry Christmas,
And "all the best";
And I felt, for a moment,
Like she was trying to squeeze all the pain out of me.
Our three daughters just smiled,
And so did her husband.

December 25, 2008

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Crazy Mosaic

After all these years, what a crazy mosaic we are left with:
Between those who are dead,
And those that are just absent,
Step-this, and step-that,
And in-laws and out-laws,
And everything colored into a remarkable
Such that we could never have imagined when we started out --
Twenty-six years ago --
It works, mostly because of
And that is most definitely
Enough of a Christmas miracle for me.

December 25, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Sometimes I just sit despondent,
At my desk,
When my life has left;
Other times, I am just feeling


December 23, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Hair Salons

I liked hair salons until recently,
Not because I'm fussy about my hair --
There's not much left anyway --
It was because she liked hair salons,
and frequented them regularly;
so that's why I liked hair salons.

I'm sure as hell glad
That she didn't like mortuaries,
and didn't frequent them regularly.

Then again, maybe she did.

December 23, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Oh, Yes

You were captivated by her, as any man would have been:
Cute, smart, young, and always willing;
and though you never laid hands on her tender, tight, warm body,
The Memory of the Touch of Her Flesh burns through you
like a welder's torch:
and time stops,
and a whistle blows,
and the top of your head flies off,
and your brain dances on the floor,
while it rains
while it rains,
because all that pleasure
was worth all these pains.

December 23, 2008

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Went into a funk,
Filled with some hellacious junk,
When you drew the curtain on us
earlier today;
Decided, since I had no where to go
that I would just get drunk,
and leave today for tomorrow,
and let the Devil play;
So I don't hold enough sorrow
for what might have been;
I'll just sit here stewing,
Not in now, but then.

December 22, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


It was 1980, and I was still new in town.
But she was my friend, and my bartender,
And she gave me free drinks.

"You can do this," she said,
and I shook my head and said, "No,
I don't think that I can,"
and she said, "Just put the money in your
pocket, call a cab, and go there. You get
the bags, and come back. Easy."

She was smiling after the word "easy."

And so began my career as a mule,
except for the traffic accident that
cab was involved in on the way back.


December 22, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


It was the summer of 1967;
I was thirteen;
I cannot remember your name, sadly,
But you were, at that campground,
The first girl to put her tongue
In my mouth.

I still feel its warm thickness,
Every time I swallow.

Thank you.

December 22, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Pall Malls

Joe Bauer, my old pal, he smoked
Pall Malls, unfiltered, back in the late 1960s.
He died a long time ago;
He kept the smokes in the drawer
Of his desk at the high school.
He was a good man,
And I miss him still.
I smoke Pall Malls now too,
Although mine are filtered,
And "light."

Joe was a real man,
And I am a wimp.

December 22, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


In his poem, "the veryest," Buk wrote of
"a woman carrying a torch
a grenade
a deathly love"

Boy, did he have your number, baby.

December 22, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Transmission Trouble

It's a little after 1:00 p.m.,
When I finally decide to pour the first one:
She ended us in an email that
I read around 12:30 p.m.
And I replied, and said "okay,
I'll accept the end of the romance
between us,
but I can't lose you as a friend."
And then I sit, half-listening
reading The Pleasures of the Damned,
car outside the motel room door, sick in
the transmission,
and I realize suddenly
Just how much I'll miss her.

December 22, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Sitting here, forced to look in the mirror,
He is more tired, and looks older
Than I imagined him to be;
The reckoning may be closer,
Than I imagined it would be:
The certainty of death
Takes my hand, without a look,
Pulls me down a dark path,
With light glowing from the end,
And makes me walk one last mile,
All the invitations rendered without a smile;
And all the while,
I was sure that I had been invited.

December 21, 2008.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Missing You Again

Sitting here in this motel room,
Here for a visit from my new home on the moon,
My thoughts drift ever to you,
They are all about you --
Can't get you on the phone,
And though I'm back to what I thought was home,
I feel very much alone.
Wish I knew how to cope with this,
But all the old-familiars that I was
Sure that I would miss,
Seem so foreign to me now,
I've left them behind,
And somehow left my mind,
Back where home is now.

I miss you already.

December 20, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Home Again?

Coming back for this Christmas visit,
Four months later, to the day,
Is strange in many ways --
A cheap motel room,
The tug of 29 years here,
In some ways like I never left,
But also feeling like a stranger,
With out-of-state license plates
And a new driver's license --
I am an alien
In the place where I raised my girls,
Where I spent nearly three decades.

I think Thomas Wolfe was right.

December 20, 2008

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


The Failure of Capitalism

Capitalism, the Greenspan ideology that free markets will regulate themselves to the greater good, is doomed to fail because it is based on a false assumption.
This ideology, and economics in general, is based on the assumption that people are rational, and that they will follow actions that increase the benefit to themselves. Since most things that benefit the wealthy (monetarily) also benefit others, ie: building a more efficient factory lowers costs so people buy more of the product so more workers are employed at the factory. Under this ideology “Greed, for lack of a better word…is Good.” as Gordon Gecko said in Wall Street”.
The problem with this idea is psychological experiments have shown that people aren’t rational in many circumstances. Here are some famous experiments that show how people stop behaving rationally and how this ugly side of human nature lead to the world’s financial meltdown.
“The Asch Conformity Experiment (1953)”
Subjects were asked to take part in a “Vision Test” and were shown a series of pictures with different length lines and asked to say which line was longest. The catch was that the subject was put in a room with people who were told to lie and name the shortest line as the longest. 32% of the subjects would go along with the group rather than trust their own eyes.
This shows that nearly a third of the population will go along with a group, against their own beliefs, even if that group is clearly retarded.
“Bystander Apathy Experiment (1968)”
The stakes were raised in this Experiment as people were put into booths and engaged in conversations, like the Conformity Experiment only one subject wasn’t in on the gag. One person would fake a seizure; the others who were in on it would ignore him. When four or more people ignored the person faking the seizure only 31% of the test subjects (that didn’t know it was faked) offered to help.
How this applies to the Financial Meltdown:
There were clearly investment schemes that had no sound basis, Sub-Prime Mortgage Derivatives, Default Credit Swaps, ect. That people went along with mostly because others were going along with it. Conversely, when business actions were causing people great harm, people would look the other way since everyone else was.

The Milgram Experiment (1961)
Subjects were brought in to run the machines to test people’s learning by giving a test subject an electric shock every time they got a wrong answer. Only the subject didn’t know the machines and the test subject’s response were fake.
The subject was told that whenever the other guy gave an incorrect answer, he was to press a button that would give him an electric shock. A guy in a lab coat (authority figure) stood over him to make sure he did his job.
The voltage started at 45 volts and slowly increase. The actor would yell louder for them to stop. If the subject questioned the experiment the guy in the lab coat would gently tell him everything’s fine and tell him to continue. This would go on until the voltage was turned up to 450 volts and the actor played dead.
66% of the people tested would increase the voltage to the lethal level as long as the authority figure said it was ok.
How this applies to the Financial Meltdown:
Even if a course of action is clearly wrong, two-thirds of people will go along with it as long as a higher up tells them it’s OK. That’s why no one reported blatantly wrong or even illegal actions, but instead just went along.

The Stanford Prison Experiment (1971)
In one of the cruelest Psychological experiments in American History, Psychologist Philip Zimbardo showed it is astonishingly easy to turn decent middle-class college students into sadistic torturers.
Zimbardo took male college students that were all physically and mentally healthy and divided them randomly into 12 guards and 12 prisoners. Then put them in a fake jail for a two-week study.
By the second day all hell broke loose, The prisoners held a riot and the guards sprayed them with fire extinguishers. Then things got bad, the guards psychologically and physically punished the prisoners, doing everything they could to break the prisoners sense of individuality.
Guards would force the prisoners to sleep naked on the concrete floors, deny them the “privilege” of going to the bathroom, and make them do humiliating tasks like clean toilets with their bare hands.
The guards would volunteer to put in unpaid overtime to “work” at the prison.
On the 6th day the experiment was shut down much to the guards disappointment.
This experiment shows that some people when given power over others will quickly abuse it. This experiment and others have also shown that when put in a position of strength, many people will start to hate those that are weaker then them.
How this applies to the Financial Meltdown:
There are bosses who will abuse their power, even at detriment to themselves and their companies. Everyone has worked for, or knows someone who has worked for a company with high turnover.
Turnover quickly cuts into profits with training costs, scheduling costs, and increased paperwork. Yet some companies are actually proud of how many people they fire. This makes the owners and managers feel powerful as they can abuse people that are weaker than themselves, even at the expense of profit. If you look closer at those companies, the management, or sometime just the “elite” management, does everything they can to sanction themselves off from the workers, and they begin to hate their own workers.
Taking this idea higher you get the psychology of the pyramid scheme, the people higher on the pyramid start hating the ones lower down. This feeling of hate rewards them enough that they will take the abuse from higher up. This goes on until you hit the top, where hating and wielding power over those under you becomes the sole reason to be in business.
When you take this in to account, and the experiments that show that it is quite easy to get good people to look the other way when they see something wrong happening it is obvious that no system can regulate itself.
In any social system, if it does not have outside regulation and checks and balances, the dark side of human organizational nature takes over and dooms the system. This is true for Communism, Fascism, and even Capitalism.
In order for any human social system to work their needs to be a strong force to protect individual rights and freedoms or else the ugly side of human nature will cause the system to make abuse and hatred become the sole focus of the system.


Family: When, if ever, do you say, "Enough is enough?"

In The Mexican, an underappreciated little romantic comedy/crime adventure film starring Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, and James Gandolfini, two characters are asked the same question:

"If two people love each other, but they just can't seem to get it together, when do you get to that point of enough is enough?"

And the answer is:


I believe this to be true. For two people who love each other and who are in love with one another, there should never come a time when either or both of them stop trying to make it.

That is not to say that people who are miserable in a relationship should try to stick it out; far from it. But if one reaches the point where "enough is enough" then the love is no longer there and it is unfair for either partner to keep trying to breathe life into the relationship.

But I find myself wondering more and more of late how this applies to "non romantic" love relationships.

As in...family.

And when I ask myself the question in a different way, I'm not so sure anymore.

When the people we love are our parents or siblings or any familial relationship forged by birth or some other means, when do you get to that point of enough is enough?

For some, familial love trumps all other love, even the love between spouses, life partners, soul mates. If forced to choose between lover and family, family always wins.

And some, like me, put their partner and the family they create with their partner above all others. I would choose my husband and my children without question. They are my family now.

For many reasons, my relationship with my parents has deteriorated over the past seven years and they have disappointed me deeply. Yesterday I had a conversation over the telephone with my mother in which she said things to me I will never, never say to my own children. In my parents' eyes, I am the one who has disappointed, the one who is at fault. Their words have wounded me, have broken my heart, and I have cried so much that I'm surprised I have any tears left.

But yesterday, when I hung up the phone, I came to the sad realization that I no longer felt hurt or angry or sad.

I don't feel much of anything for them anymore.

Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel famously said, "The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference..."

And so my love for them has become indifference. I have a husband and two beautiful sons who need me, who need all of me. Walking around all the time with a knot in my stomach and my mind occupied rehashing conversations with my mother or father, berating myself for what I should have said and rehearsing what I'll say next time is a waste of thought and energy and emotion. The only way I can move on with my life is to let it all go. I don't need to become estranged from them or perform a dramatic bridge-burning exit from their lives because we are at an impasse. Nothing will ever change. And I'm tired of struggling.

My answer, then, to the question of "When the people we love are our parents or siblings or any familial relationship forged by birth or some other means, when do you get to that point of enough is enough?" is simple.

Enough is enough when you no longer feel loved by them.


At the Edge

It is only at the edge of dyin', baby,
That any of us know what it's like to be cryin'
Maybe, not for ourselves, but for all we leave behind,
Oh whatever, and ever, and forever, nevermind;

The sorrow is lost, because tomorrow will cost
More than I can pay, how did it slip away?
How did it slip away, baby,
How did it slip away?

More than mere words, more than those assureds,
It's all slipped away;
Nothing more that I can say,
Nothing more that I can pay,
The till is empty.

Love and life, tears and strife,
Sprinkled with some laughter;
Moonbeams and gleams from your eyes,
Still, what comes after:
Starlight frozen still,
What my heart tries to will,
Still falls down life's stairs,
Crashing to the floor,
Leaving nothing, save the door,
The door to nothing more.

Ring, I would love to ring,
But my bell refuses to sing;
It sits there like a dirty gong,
Hoping I will provide a song.

I choose, not to use
All the various mechanisms available to me
To tell you that I long only to be free,
To be just me.

If I leave you tomorrow,
It will be with some sorrow;
For all that I thought was meant to be:
Me with you, and you with me.

December 19, 2008, for Jan.
Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Another bourbon-stained shirt,
And he's been lookin' for work
Ever since the roof caved in;
And you wouldn't look twice except
His smile is nice,
On account of all the work that was done;
And your instincts tell you to not walk, but run;
But he talks really smart, and you've got a big heart,
So you slip him a couple of ones;
And as you walk away, he remembers to say,
"Hey, thanks, baby, I knew I could count on you."

December 19, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

A New Mystery

Let's go out on a trail
That ain't been broken;
Let's just take enough
To get to where we're goin';
Let's go, baby,
In search of a new mystery;
Let's make some history:
Let's find a place where we can be alone
We'll take a moment to turn off the phone,
And then take forever to be on our own,
Just us two,
Me and you.

December 19, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.



You're a thief, plain and simple;
You can't change it by turning over a new leaf,
And the cuteness factor of your dimple
Won't give any relief:
You stole my heart,
Took it in your bloody hands,
And then planned on tearing it apart,
But that's not where This Love lands;
Not with a whimper, but a bang;
I'm not giving up one little thang
And my voice still rumbles with that Virginia twang,
And what I'm gonna learn ya
Is enough for a whole gang:
You're mine.

December 17, 2008, for Jan.
Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


I think back, just a little while ago,
And it just amazes me, how little did I know;
Now, with my learnin', tied tight to my yearnin':
How much left to know, I don't know;
But I'm puttin' this down now,
Never thought I would allow,
As how I'm feelin' alive:
He's forty-five.

Hells bells, I can surely compete:
I thought he was 20 or 25 years younger than me;
But come on, nine years;
I can do that with one life tied behind my back.

No competition at all,
No reason to take that fall,
Reason enough to stay alive;
I have breakfast most days,
And part of it is

Still in it, baby,
To win, and not maybe;
Still got it, tonight proved,
Turns out, I don't lose.

Good Lord,
Sakes alive,
I'm back, and on the attack:
I'm gonna survive,
And beat him at this game:
Oh so loserly lame.

December 18, 2008, for Jan.
Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.



I’ve got two feelings: bad and worse

And I still don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse

Those in the ground pray for those trapped above it

There are people who are dying, but still alive, claim to love it

As I sit, steeped in my drink

Only a fool is wise enough not to think

Even if I locate every answer

It still won’t keep me from dying of cancer

Love is an involuntary

Descent into co-dependency

I feel sad and I feel scared

And I kind of wish that I wasn’t there

Taste the metal

Taste the pain

Pause for effect

And then taste it again

All fucked-up and ravaged

And with much similar damage

And a commensurate challenge

An equal taste for sin

The same days wasted

In the same ways tasted

The bad flavors pasted

That I painted my life in

Where were you when I didn’t know where I was?

Where were you when I did it, did it just because?

In my panicked rush

To move it from here to there

to move it on down the line

It was like my mind wasn't there

I think in the end I was

The one really left behind

Those who just stayed

where fate had put them

and had never strayed

may not have been wrong

I sold myself to the invisible wind

and they know that they belong

Chinese philosophies

might still your tongue

But you can’t walk around

with your brain all weak and numb

Nothing will cause a soul to burn

Quite like the lesson you never wanted to learn

Used to think that life had fucked me over

and I wondered why that'd be

then one day I looked in the mirror

and I saw that life was me

Taste the metal

Taste the pain

Pause for effect

Then taste it again

I pray for death,

I pray every day

The sky is empty:

I pray anyway

Worth It

You can sit there, and laugh about me with your friends,
I can sit here, and wish that this is not where it ends;
You can sit there, and say that we'll still be friends,
But I'm grownup, baby, and this is where it ends.

Nobody left to yell at, nobody left to curse;
Nobody left to tug on, nobody to get hurt;
I'm just nobody, somebody left for worse;
Don't worry, baby, just a shovel full of dirt.

So just kill me where I stand,
After all of your tuggin',
I'm still a man,
So take me, as I am;
Take me, as I am.

It was worth it.

December 17, 2008.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Dear God

Its been awhile since I actually sat down and wrote to you, as you know. I felt it time to sit down and compose. I bet its hard knowing that you are in constant demand from so many. I know I have a hard enough time with the people I am around at times. I think its time that I let go of things that have been clogging my mind, confusing my heart and limiting my soul.

I feel pulled in so many directions and my mind has been so scattered. I haven't been able to concentrate on anything positive though as you know I try. Maybe you don't maybe I haven't been able to reach you lately. God, I am trying to be the strong one, and I have been struggling. I do not understand why everything seems to be a battle. I do not understand how it is I am constantly drowning in everyday existence and how it is that I am constantly screaming into the oncoming winds and my voice is forever getting lost.

I am a good person, I look out for my fellow flesh bound souls struggling on this planet. My soul bleeds at injustice, my heart weeps at the sorrows of others. I feel as though I am not only unable to help myself but others as well. It troubles my sleep, it haunts my waking moments. I am unable to grasp onto hope as I once was able to do.

Perhaps, its just a matter of pecking order, I know there are those worse off than me. Though I am feeling as hopeless as I ever have. I know longer feel like the person I know I am.
I feel as though I have let you down. or perhaps its just those inner demons messing within me again. If ever I needed guidance now is the time. I have reviewed all that I have came from, and all the obstacles I have already battled. I have searched for rhyme and reason , my hands are still empty.

Perhaps its my stubborn nature thinking I can handle everything on my own. I am not sure . I know there have been times in my life I have been less than holy. I know there have been times I have had little to no faith , though I have always found my way back into your grace. Perhaps I am missing something now.

I concede , I claim defeat. I can no longer do this on my own. Please take this burden from me. I can no longer continue to struggle, my lungs are filling with water and I am sure that without some assistance I will drown.

Take it from me, take it all, the stress and worries. Take away the sorrows send the Grey clouds haunting bring me back my sunshine. Show me the way back to the path of enlightenment. Guide me now before the path I am on takes me further into the black abyss of sorrow and self doubt.

In your name I pray.

night lights

the snow twinkles down
the bitter cold seeps into my heart
darkness falls
the wolf cries alone
echoing through the long winters night
but hark in the sky
there is a light
an aura, a glow
a trick of the sky
atoms colliding, sparking
exciting one another
dancing to an unheard tune
and in my eyes
is reflected their afterglow
that warms my cold silent soul



All the times that she lied,
And the things I should have known;
All that I have been denied,
Just the crops my heart has grown.

Left alone, to float away
On a cloud in a weepy sea of gray;
Started out better than this,
And it shouldn't end this way.

Too many cooks involved in this soup:
No one leaves satisfied;
Losing her, well it's my last loop;
Just one more thing denied;
Just one more thing denied.

Lookin' for work; am well qualified:
Got lots of experience too;
Lots of times that I've been denied;
The latest one, the other shoe,

Droppin' on my head,
And she thinks that I'm jokin',
When I say I'll be better off dead;
She doesn't hear me chokin',

But that's the way, that's okay,
It's the way the story goes;
Nothin' more that I can say,
It's been denied, it's been closed.

Eventually, she'll get tired of me,
And she'll even stop takin' my call;
Thought she was my new eternity,
But soon she'll be nothin' at all.

December 16, 2008, for Jan.
Copyright © 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Just a Quick note

Wooooooo Hoooooooooo I made it to the site just wanted to say hello, and thanks Larry for the E~mail


Carved Out

Over the past year,
you've carved out a place in my heart,
and now it's become so clear
that this is the time that it gets ripped apart,
and so that's okay, sometimes that's how
the story goes, and I've been on this bus,
long enough to discuss, all the crappy things
than happen, when you let yourself lay out there,
when you figure, what the hell, I can tell
if something's poison or not,
but that's not why I'm here tonight:
I'm here just because,
all that was,
well, it's got to count for something,
clearly not loveneverending,
but dammit janet stop pretending
that my heart's broken
and yours is mending,

because I
will fly right now into the sky,
and burn up on re-entry
if I am not the sentry,
sent by God, to guard your heart,
and yet you think we are best torn

or maybe it's just me, cut loose:
the next candidate for a noose
of my own design;
happens all the time,
just a footnote to the news:
news that you can lose,
something with too much ooze,
something you can't excuse:
only me,
only me.

love, all damnation should surround thee;
too much torment lies where love's spent,
leaving us to wonder where the hell we went;
enough loss to make a strong person break,
too much heartbreak for anyone to take,
too much left, too much wrong,
enough to hurt for a thousand years,
enough to cry a million tears,
enough to make a damned fine song,
but not enough to help me along.

so much left to say,
waiting for just one hooray,
after nearly forty years,
of not so many cheers;
listening for just two hands clapping;
only two;
that doesn't sound like a lot to do;
I would do it for someone like you.

it tears me apart, from the ending to the start,
to know now that I must allow another
to have my lover,
and back away;
this cannot be, this is heresy,
but yet it is, it is the way that it must be,
be for you, be for me;
I am now just a memory,
just a part of the past,
someone who could not last,
someone who was tasked, for a little while,
with watching over you,
and making you smile.

you'll get stuck on him,
for some amount of time, no doubt;
but after a little, you'll be on the lookout
you'll be remembering that there once was more;
that love is not meant to be a chore,
something that you have to come home to,
but something that you want to come home to:
you'll be remembering me.

well, I'm too olde to know,
all the things I know,
and you're to young to see,
all that we could be;
so that's the way this ends,
with everybody friends,
and nothing more.

and one last thing to note:
I meant every word that I wrote
to you, and more
more than I can say;
sometimes words get in the way,
and only grunts and growls will do,
will do to make me clear,
that I, for eternity, will truly
love you;
it is true:
you are for me the final Concerto,
and I am for you.

and I am not so foolish as to suppose,
that these silly lines will oppose,
the choice you have chosen,
but oh, what I would give,
if I could live just a while,
in your heart, in your smile,
in your bed, instead
of someone else.

and time goes, as a river flows,
and no one gets to keep yesterday's rose;
and words leak, and thoughts creak;
but as long as there is light in tomorrow,
I will love you sweet girl o' mine,
and remember me always in joy, and not sorrow.

so it is so, and I have not so far to go,
till all this is past;
but for you, you sweet little flower,
whose beauty is never captured by the hour,
whose charm is a good enough dower:
I have loved you.

December 15, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

So Sad

Although I wish it wasn't so,
It is now clear enough for me to know:
That I have become just a booty call,
Once a day, and that is all;

But I love you, still, my dear,
My sweet janjan.
And I wish you all the best,

Don't bother to call,
It's really nothing at all,
I'll be gone real soon,
And you will see me
In the light of the moon.

I loved you,
And better than anyone else will ever do.

December 13, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

A Union Response to the Republicans

Cut off their access to Hookers.
by: Project Savior

The Republicans blocked the $14 Billion Auto bailout Friday, A move that may cost the taxpayers as much as $30 Billion if the banks need to use their Republican supported bailout funds to cover the loans they made to automakers.

The Republicans said they wanted greater concessions from the Unions, in doing so they have brought themselves directly to the Collective Bargain Table. Since the Republicans have decided they should get involved with the Bargaining it’s only fair the unions treat them as a partner in negotiations, and let the Republican Senators feel what happens when negotiations break down with the unions.

The quickest way to make these Republican Senators feel the Unions power is though a secondary boycott. Every autoworker should make a pledge not to go to a hooker, or even the same escort service that caters to the Republican Senators that voted against the bailout. The hookers and escort services wouldn’t want to lose the Autoworkers business and stop serving the Senators.

This way the Senators who voted against the bailout would feel an immediate impact of their vote. I’m sure Sen. David Vitter (R-LA) wouldn’t know what to do if he couldn’t have a hooker at the end of a long day of cutting benefits to retirees.

It’s true that some Republican Senators are known to get other forms of release and a secondary boycott of them would work as well. Local Union chapters could check to see what flights the Senators are taking and which airports that they will be laid over at, then stand outside the men’s restrooms of those airports handing out flyers to the men that go in with the Senator’s picture and a caption saying. “Support a Strong America, Don’t Blow this Man.”

No matter how wide a stance the Senator takes in that bathroom, it will be doubtful they’ll get relief after a plea like that.

The Unions could also cut off the other source of Republican relief by taking out ads in their home districts urging parents not to let their children be pages for those Senators. “Before you send your child off to be molested by a Republican Senator, think of all the workers you are hurting.”

With ads like that I’m sure quite a few parents will think twice before letting their children work as pages for those Senators.

And finally all union members should boycott any child pornographers who donated to Norm Coleman’s Senate campaign. Let’s see how he gets by without his kiddie porn.

THE REAL BUSH HISTORY! As told by Keith Olbermann


Just a Friend

The booty calls always go pretty smooth,
Though I'm the one with something to prove:
Still got it, old man?
Let's just see if you still can:
And I will know,
I will know for sure,
If more than a day elapses
Between one call and the next call,
If there is any reason at all
To take the rest of the fall,
Or if I'm just a friend,
Nothing more to it,
Nothing more to it.
Anything else would just be
The end.

December 7, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Just Enough Time

Come on, it's not a walnut,
Can't you break it?
It's just my heart;
I can take it;
Come on, what's takin' you so long;
I've got enough time,
That I could write you a song:
About lovin' and leavin',
So what if my chest is still heavin',
I'm dead,
And you are wed;
To some mullet-wearin' moron,
And I don't have the strength
To go on;
So goodbye, you were better off
Without me;
And don't cry,
'Cause I am glad that you left me,
Since with me sayin' goodbye,
You won't have to cry;
When I'm ready to be buried,
I'll just be the one that you carried
For a while,
And then left,
With a smile.

December 5, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

The Deal

Okay, so here's the deal:
You go ahead and go out with that boy,
And you decide how you feel;
And if he doesn't treat you like a new toy,
Then maybe he is for real.
And if he loves you better than me,
Then I will just have to be history.
But I'm guessin'
That that lesson
Will be less than a mystery;
Because I know, and you know,
That no one can love you better than me.
Not even some boy.

December 2, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Evergreen Again

They manage, somehow,
To supersede winter's greyness,
And their verdance is almost
Too much to view:
It intoxicates,
As it invigorates.

Their radiance, their presence,
Too much good in a sea
Of grey stew,
But like brussels sprouts,
You know they are good for you:

Keep me lean,
Make the light off your boughs
Help me be clean;
All that is good, please allow;
My sanctuary for months,

December 13, 2008

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.



The Warrior

He stands, and lets all those who watch
From the comfort of their campfire,
Know not what he will tolerate,
As much as what he will not tolerate:
Sinfulness, soullessness;

Hagakure, waiting for the demons
Who would rob the widows and the orphans;
He passes no judgment,
Since that has already been rendered;
He guards no passages,
As they have already been closed;
He stands, as a retainer,
As one who knows.

Lord Naoshige said:
"Matters of great concern
Should be treated lightly."
And Master Ittei commented:
"Matters of small concern
Should be treated seriously."

Knowledge of wrongdoing clear,
He makes his way forward,
Holding close all that is dear:
The rights of those who have fallen,
Be they far or near.

By the time the final blow has been struck,
The vanquished already knew
They had lost all of their luck,
And they now are part of a strange brew:
It is discarded, and they are regarded,
As those that we wished we never knew.

December 13, 2008.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved. Especially those that formerly flowed to the thieves, bill and elle dee.

A Modest Republican Proposal on the Auto Bailout.

Senator Mitch McConnell led the blockage of the $14 Billion auto bailout package saying he wanted the unions to make concessions to be more in line with non-union autoworkers.
The autoworkers for Toyota already make more than the union workers ($30 per hour as compared to $27) the big difference is in the money paid to the retired autoworkers. GM, Ford and Chrysler have been making cars in the US for over 100 years as opposed to Toyota, Nissan and Honda that started building most of their plants in the late 1980’s so they have fewer retired workers.
McConnell’s actions have proven that he knows who is to blame for the financial crisis the world is facing. It’s not Wall St executives who came up with great products like default credit swaps and sub-prime mortgage backed securities, he likes them and voted to give them $700 Billion with no strings attached.
No, McConnell knows that the world’s current problems are the fault of retirees. These evil men and women who worked hard for 20 to 30 years and think that they have a right to have a roof over their heads just because their Companies promised it to them, with the Government’s blessing.
These evil retirees seem to believe that they should be entitled to healthcare, just because it was promised to them. They should have known when they signed up to work for these companies in the 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s that the system of Employer provided healthcare, which the Government pushed back then, would be dismantled under the Conservatives led by Mitch McConnell.
Since Mitch McConnell has shown that retirees are responsible for all the ills in society, I have I modest proposal that he can use to fix this problem.
We can use the retirees as a food source. As soon as someone retires we can grind them up and send the meat to fast food restaurants (non-union of course). This will work especially well in the stockyards since the retirees won’t even have to travel. For other industries I’m sure McConnell will want concessions to have the unions pay for the travel expense. In non-union shops this expense can be deducted from the final paycheck.
Although some fear grinding up retirees for fast food might weaken the housing market further, we are already in the process of kicking them out of their homes so the impact won’t be that bad. And even if it does, it will free up even more Social Security Money that we can use to bail out the banks.
If McConnell would use his influence to get this measure passed, it would make our country more competitive by not having our companies burdened by having to fulfill the promises they made to their workers with the Governments encouragement.
If this proposal gets watered down, it will just mean a weakening of the Social Security and retirement benefits forcing retirees out of their homes and a Government policy that makes the cost of healthcare too much for Blue Collar retirees to afford. Pretty much the same plan he has pushed for the last 20 or so years.
But grinding retirees up to serve as fast food would be much more honest.



Waves of rain,
And even with their acid,
They do not cleanse me;
Enough pain to go a round or two:
Enough to know
What I already knew;
Sun beats down on me,
But I'm clever, and use sunscreen.
How much should I struggle,
To say what I mean:
All of us, as we sit and ignore,
Are left unclean,

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved. Especially those that used to go directly to bill and elle dee.

The Step Never Taken

I found
In that terrible, divine place.

In the thoughts
Of all I had done
Of all I had become
And could not undo.

In a moment
That was not mine.

I had gone no further
Stopping in my movement
Stopping my pursuit
My happiness
Was in stopping.

I had stopped.
I am stopped,
My every step forestalled.
My wish to propel myself out
And yet for what?

Only to stop again.


for bill and elle dee, who do not deserve any capital letters

they tried to silence my voice over a stupid little troll
(note to self: 1960s paranoia works again; he was out to get you)
like a bunch of jackbooters and they left me no choice
but to join the blogging looters

they have no victory, as such,
my voice rings on elsewhere
and they are shown to be soulless, typical mercenaries
out for their own buck, while dispensing pennies

they hide behind stormy towers
and don't take our call
they are not so important,
in fact, they are nothing at all

anonymity, we think, keeps us safe;
and maybe to a degree it does,
but it also allows dark and deadly creatures to prowl;
at night, you can hear their knuckles crack,
you can hear them glare and growl
they wait to pounce on you
and take everything you have

and then of course, the eternal plotters:
brazen thieves;
they put their heel on your neck,
and ask if you would like to leave;
just as long as you leave your work behind
for them to monetize
and they wonder, they really wonder,
why many want to pop one,
right between their eyes

for shame, bill and elle dee, for shame:
when you look into a vacant mirror,
you will have only yourselves to blame

December 11, 2008

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


Some people on ThisIsBy.Us have not yet received invites to TIBU2, because no email addresses were able to be found for them. Unless an email address was listed on a user's ThisIsBy.Us profile- or they responded to one of Dr. Larry's comment posts- they were not invited, and it would be a a shame for someone to be left behind for that reason. All that's asked is that people be made aware that the opportunity exists, should they elect to go with it.

If anyone knows how to contact Bostongirl, Maggiemae23, MaryRose, Amtrak To Hell, Freddy, Bleachercreature (or any one of a host of others), please refer them to TIBU.TWO@GMAIL.COM for an invite. We're not looking to spam anyone, but some folks are genuinely NOT aware that TIBU2 exists and seem pretty bummed about losing their community. We'd like to include them here.

Thank you.

Chu-ing over Obama’s Energy Policy

What a relief I had when I read that Obama has named Dr Steven Chu as his new Energy Secretary. Having the person in charge of America’s Nuclear policy, someone who can actually say the word.
America’s old energy policy was best described as Arrogant in its Ignorance. The “Drill, Baby, Drill” idea of focusing our entire energy policy on off shore drilling that wouldn’t add any oil to America for 10 years, and even then wouldn’t generate as much oil as could be saved by having properly inflated tires is dead.
America, and the World, faces a huge energy crisis. Since the industrial revolution humanity has been increasing its energy consumption by 1.5% per year. This year the world was no longer able to increase its production by that amount, and we saw the effects of our withdrawal with skyrocketing oil prices that led to a huge economic crash.
If we follow the old policies of waiting for the world to recover with the lowered oil prices, the cycle will merely repeat itself. The economy will start to recover and oil prices will shoot through the roof and the economy will crash again. This cycle would repeat over and over with less oil being produced at the top of each cycle until civilization as we know it is destroyed in a few decades.
With a Noble Prize Winning Physicist heading America’s energy policy, we can look forward to policies based on reality, instead of wishful thinking.
We can look for ideas to start replacing oil with a different kind of mobile energy, and not just more farm subsidies. We can look at new ways of generating electricity and not just give large corporations tax breaks for spraying oil on coal, which doesn’t change the way it burns, but allows it to be labeled “Clean Coal”.
On the nuclear energy front we can look forward to redesigned nuclear plants that are quicker to build and more efficient. Not just throwing research dollars into trying to make reactors that have better safety than our current dismal, zero deaths in nearly 60 years of running nuclear power plants.
While we’re at it we might just look at the dangerous side of Nuclear Power, which is the mining and processing of uranium.
Most importantly, we will have a Physicist determining our policy on Alternative Energy. There are a lot of Alternative Energy ideas out there, some good and some merely reworked perpetual motion machines. The way research dollars were doled out to these projects in the past was by who had the best lobbyists. Now we might have that money given to the ones that have the best chance of working.
With Obama placing a Physicist in charge of our Energy policy, we can finally stop treating the fundamental driver our technological civilization as just a magic force that will always be there, and start looking at our current energy sources from a scientific standpoint and look for solutions based in reality for our current crisis.


he tinkers and tweaks
he tries to perfect
his randomly put-together plan
he struts and frets
over nothingness
but that is something
to his addled and pickled brain
this is what he is
who he was this thing
this pile of nothing
this monument to futility
it is who he was
who he became
a part of his past
a bit of his future still
it is him
a reflection of his cobbled-together self
you want to know him, see him
read between the lines of code
eat it Ala mode
devour his words
and you will see his view
understand his reasons
partake in his lifes work
up to this point
see him
for who he is
don't just eat this treat
feast upon it


Flint and Spark

none that I wrote;
the ones that escaped my throat:
I said to you,
My dear, was more than true;

have all that I am,
Quickly as you can,
As I lie fading from this life;

all you can dream
All that it may seem,
As I go tumbling down the hill,
Wishing it were my will,
But going nonetheless, still;
Wanting you there,
Not leaving a care,
But being only in my arms;
Giving me all of your charms,
Saving me from the alarms,
Keeping me from all harms.

what do I know about life,
Struggles and silliness and strife;
I know only you at this moment,
You who holds me through this torment,
who are my candle in the dark,
You are the flint for my spark.

what do I know about love?
Why should I, among all people,
Ring like a bell, high in a steeple?
Because you
have enlightened my heart,
Tore it down a few times,
And then remade it, as art.

Time erodes, and life goes,
But one thing remains ever true,
I have never loved another,
As much as I love you.

December 11, 2008, for Jan.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

the trolls

Given recent events over at nearlydefunctare.we, I mean, thisisby.us, I thought it might be instructive, or maybe even enjoyable, to post a poem here that I posted over there in January 2008 after a particularly bothersome outbreak of trolls. Enjoy a golden oldie from my vault, and remember, the troll you save may be thrown in front of my car:

the trolls

there are some trolls
out there in poetryland
wherever the fuck that is;
probably stuckuptheass
of some
overeducated, spoiled little fucks
smaller than the
i have every morning.

they are going to teach me
The Error of My Ways.
like some pseudo-Charlton Heston
waving his wobbly, withered dick in my face
and jamming his stupid fucking rifle in the air
pitchforks and oil-rag torches
filling the night air
they will come up the hillside
looking for my sorry ass
to teach me
The Error of My Ways.

stand back
you smarmy, squinty-eyed little pricks
before I open a can of whupass
the likes of which
You Have Never Seen Before in Your Miserable
Dick-Thumping Lives.

not only are these poorly-weaned little turds
Going To Teach Me A Thing or Two,
they are so
Ambitious and such literary geniuses
that they are going to teach a bunch of other writers
the same lessons they are going to teach me
and all of it for free
just because they care
just because someone forgot to take the keys to all the cells
and they are now in charge:
Masters of All They Survey
in their little 6 by 9 lockup in the Central Jail
where the crackpipe is still warm
the needles are all bent
and only blisters remain where their hearts used to beat.
so bring it on, you vile little vipers
you little bags of snot,
step the fuck up – puff out your sunken little chests
as best you can
sitting on top of your rock for a change
like a fucking cocksucking politician
trying to score --
looking for some ladies, maybe?
i got some of them for you too – nice girls
all of them clean
with stilettos, sombreros and switchblades, baby
the Big Three:
and any of them will cut off your junk
and feed it to you with a side of Scottish bonnet
and laugh while you write down your feelings
and teach me
The Error of My Ways
as you pass out from exsanguination
and Bolero plays real LOUD.

and you bother no one again.

* * *

(in honor of the publication of The Pleasures of the Damned: Poems 1951-1993 by Charles Bukowski)

January 26, 2008. Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved. Did you read that Bill and Lauren?


The Evil Atheist Agenda

There is an evil plot afoot, funded by a small minority of 20% of Americans.

            Some parts of this plot are well known. For Instance, It is well known that the Evil Atheists have a series of satellites circling the globe beaming down mind rays that can penetrate tin foil and stop children from praying in schools.

It is also known that the Evil Atheists have shipped drugs to zoos around the world that will turn 10% of penguins gay. They do this to promote Gay Marriage, as children see Gay Penguins coupled together as normal, they will then think seeing two men in tuxedos coupled together is normal as well. Even though the bible clearly states that homosexuality is almost as bad as eating shrimp.

They have also traveled back in time and written into the Constitution that “…no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.” By traveling back in time and putting that into the Constitution they are setting up an evil plot to get Atheists into government.

They have already started this process by getting first Catholics and then Jews elected into to Government. They have even infiltrated the Supreme Court and got them claim that the Constitution would allow Atheists to hold public offices just because they are qualified and received the majority of the vote. 

Of course everyone knows how the Evil Atheists have taken over the nations schools and are brainwashing kids about things like “Gravity”. After all “Gravity” is merely a theory and not a fact. Yet all children are required to learn about it and aren’t presented with alternatives likeIntelligent Grappling.

But even worse than teaching about Gravity and other mere theories, there is a whole branch of teaching that goes against our Protestant values. That is known as math.

Under this “Math” idea there are two things when taken together is used to undermine our good Protestant values, and that is addition and statistics.

Under this “Math” idea someone could look at the polls saying that the United States is 20% Atheist/Agnostic, 23% Catholic, 2% Jewish, 2% Unitarian, and 5% other and add them up and come to the ridiculous conclusion that the United States doesn’t have a Protestant Majority.

Every Protestant knows this isn’t true, so the whole concept of “Math” must be false.

For Abby

There lingers in these pages,
The voice of a woman whose visions
Are filled with tender mist and softness,
Which I have not known for long.

There is no pain, no joy, but hope:
The feathers, the silk, the secretive place;
Places in her mind or her experience?
I cannot know without knowing her.

Her skin would be soft to the touch,
Her eyes knowing and understanding;
Her spirit warm and alive:
The distance narrows but still she is far away . . .

When you sing the songs of treasures,
Sing the songs of treasures to me;
From a place with soft red lanterns,
Lighting paths of rust and rubies;
It is then my spirit wanders,
With the thrushes in the moontide,
To the places of your longing,
And my longing, in the meadow;
Magic meadow, where the harps play,
In the dusk, the dusk of roses.

The hearts come,
When I am not looking;
Bring their golden arrows,
The Gods abandon for them,
To pierce the love
I keep knowing.
Someday it will find me;
It has not left me here,
Here, in a garden of circles,
Of glorious colors,
Without radiance;
Someday, even today,
As I dance with a stray shadow
On a gondola cruising space:
Wait for the song from the harp
Of winter.

Now, as the leaves
Forsake the summer juices,
And burn to the kiss of autumn,
I no longer care,
And the flutes play on
With or without me.

But I stay awhile,
In the shadow of evening;
To remember each moment
Of nothing in the starlight:
For the joy that it gives me,
When I am unhappy,
Is the gaze of the prophet
Into the eye of the sun.

The thing that divides me,
Holds my hand instinctively;
Dumps me from the crest of the wave,
And guides me to the bottom,
Covered with erotic shells.

I cannot stay here with you,
In this silver room of no answers,
Bending to the twilight in hats
Embroidered fine and feathered fair;
We talk of things that are not there;
That only exist in the distance between us.

A visit from Heaven,
Mother of Nature;
How truthful the Goddess;
Heed yes the Goddess;
For truly the vision
Supersedes the moment
That a friend goes forever,
Or we part not friends.

Orange candle dreamer:
Of lovers, of passion,
Of blessings of the daylight,
And dark secrets of the night:
When only under the covers
Is the lesson learned:
A womb free from fright;
Concealment of the mind,
Purple musical notes,
Your inhibitions.
The warmth of a dynamic memory:
Faded pink silk, amethyst boudoirs;
Silver feathers by the window,
Staring through me:
Jade in a jar, the door open.

Yet as the moments vanish
From the window sill,
And the tart colors of sunset
In Japanese fans amuse me,
I slide away in the moments of
Your satin hands, for the time gone by
Abuses me, and remembers that now
I am better than I was,
For I love you.

Velvet orange words,
Dripping from the candle;
And though we have not
Nor touched
Nor hibernated together,
In the silken folds of timeless dreams,
I still have your glance
Beneath my eyelids,
Ravishing in the saunas of my dreams.

How strange,
For now that you are not with me,
The purity is a product of dissolution,
And spiritual enterprise;
Essence for the love we have
Like in a bubbling burlap bag,
With silky tassels,
Presses against me,
When I am not with you.

November 4, 1976.

Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.