Round Two.

[Doc]

Newsflash. Update. Whatever.

After much chatter... It seems the plan of attack will be a direct one. A lot has changed since Round One. New weapons.

The most likely plan is as follows. Five small cuts into my torso. One in each arm pit, one in my back, two in my chest. Jam in microscopic camera thingamajiggers. Jam in high tech newfangled lasers. Burn the Hell right out of that little bugger and his nasty little tendrils. Burn away tissue from the surrounding area. If all goes as well as hoped, that's it. I can be home by Thursday. However, once they get in there, and if they see more needs to be done, like say, fishing out a lung, micro-surgery could turn into full blown gutting. The option is there. There is a chance they can still work through the five small holes if some tissue needs to be removed, like a small section of lung cut away and then the rest of the lung grafted back onto my wind pipe. More will be known when they actually get in there. Most of the procedure will actually be experimental. New lasers, new types of cameras, basically small portable tactical pinpoint nukes in the arsenal against cancer, rather than the big fat dirty A Bomb that was unleashed last time.

As for the nice issue... My wife and I are with out a doubt, soul mates. We are two bodies made one. We are a collective unto our selves. We are single minded as a couple. She is the nice. I am the not so nice. And we both understand that, accept that, and cover each others bases. We both lack certain functions, both of us being somewhat broken in our own fashion. There is completeness in unity. We are as God intended. Two bodies, one flesh. I am satisfied with that. I don't expect anybody to understand.

I hold contempt for actions. I hold contempt for deeds. And society as a whole. People, as in singular form, I love. Human beings as a whole, as a species, I am not terribly fond of. It is one thing to hate the actions but love the person. But mixing contempt and hate in the same paragraph is dangerous, as they are in no way related. People are still worth saving. The society that I hold contempt for still has worthy people. I realize it is a fine line and I expect nobody to understand what it is exactly that I mean. I am not a simple person. People confuse contempt with other emotions, think more of it then it is, and allow a neutral emotion to bleed into negative territory. As for playing nice, I tried that once. Been there, done that. To quote Ash; "Good? Bad? Who cares, I'm the guy with the gun."

John Lennon said it best.

As soon as you're born, they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Til the pain is so big you feel nothing at all

A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home, and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Til you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules

A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

When they tortured and scared you for 20 odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear

A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion, and sex, and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see

A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

There's room at the top, they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill

A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

If you want to be a hero, well just follow me
If you want to be a hero, well just follow me

Been listening to that a lot lately for some reason. Keeps popping up on iTunes.

[Ozymandous]

Hmm, what's so great about being a working class hero? You never get ahead, you're always barely scraping by on the peanuts you make, etc. On top of that he call's everyone peasants? Working for whom, the government? The 'man'? Yeah right.

He has no clue. We're only limited to what we hink we're limited to. "Being a 'working class hero' seems a dead end place to be" would be a much better chorus to that song me thinks.

[Doc]

Ozy, wrong thought.

A working class hero is pretty much a peasant that rises above his station. New money. Like John himself for example. He came from a dirt poor steel town.

When you make something of your self, the Old Money folks hate you. New Money sucks. All that crap. And your former peers resent you for making something of your self when they could not.

I am something even worse... a Minority Class Hero. Go me. I am an uppity mongrel person with money... Something that nobody is bound to like!

More money, more problems. You don't know headaches till you have to deal with having money. The social pressures, the financial pressures, the pressure you put on your self to always remember "where you came from" and satisfying your guilty thoughts by giving back.

Contempt of self is also a good motivator to keep one's self in line.

[Doc]

I am signing off. Officially going AFK for a while. Not totally sure how long.

If all goes as planned, and the very best happens, it will still be a very long healing process, the worry of infection, concerns over coughing tearing up delicate tissues, even at best, so much can go wrong. At worst, well, I don't want to think about at worst. At worst means an extended hospital stay and lots of pain and suffering. Or death. Or wishing that I had died perhaps.

If all goes as I hope, I will probably be home in 2 days. I will most likely try to return to keyboard next Monday. As stated, I want to make sure I am mostly in the clear before I post something stupid that proves to be false. If everything goes to Hell, well, I don't know when I will be posting. I will arange something, some sort of message.

Last time involved peeling and burning and cutting. This time, it's boring holes and burning I think. If all goes as planned. I am not sure I am comfortable being set on fire deep inside my body. Something about that makes the hackles on the back of my neck stand up. I know I wont know it's happening... But when the burning happens, where will the smoke come out? Will I fart two days later and poof out a little cloud? Will I burp up a burnt taste? I have been on fire before, in laser surgery, but also in actually set on fire, stop, drop, and roll sort of thing. Something about burning on the inside makes me cringe... Trogdor the Burninator set loose in my chest, burninating the tumor... Ick. Being set on fire is my least favourite form of abuse. I can deal with impalement, gouging, lacerations, crushing, and even being bit. I can think of those things and only think about "It'll hurt more in the morning" but not be terribly concerned. But being set aflame? I am just not comfortable with that. Not at all. Gives me the damn willies. Oh sure, when I die, I want to be burned to a crisp out on a viking long boat. But that's different. The lights will be off and nobody home. Don't mind being set ablaze then. I hope what ever part of me is out of body is around to see the grand finale. But to be ignited while still alive... I am just not dealing well with the thought of that. I am not sure, but, I think I have some sort of phobia. Or perhaps it is the fear of the whole situation manifesting in some small minute detail. But then again, I have never been fond of being set on fire. Something about the smell of my own flesh burning that makes me unhinged. Ew. I am such a wuss, afraid of such a stupid little thing like being burned alive.

Good night folks, big day tomorrow. Off I go. Tootles.

[Ozymandous]

Ah, ok that makes sense.

Hmm, why would someone with 'new money' attempt to mingle with 'old money' anyway? For status, an attempt to validate themselves, what?

If I had a lot of money I had worked for, won, whatever, I wouldn't really care about trying to show off, eat in fancy resturants, buy expensive clothes or cars, nor would I try to move into some ritzy community because that's where all the 'rich' folks were.

Seems to be people are trying to make themselves fit in with all of that as some sort of way to justify their existance. *shrug*

If you had money but never acted as if you did, would that still cause problems? Seems to me the 'problems' come with people finding out you have money and always wanting something form you, debt/creditors or some other BS where people think you're an easy target because you have some cash.

As a side question contempt might work for yourself, but how do you ever motivate others with it? That's the hard part.

[Doc]

How do I explain this in the current doped up state I am in.

Hmm.

Old money is a valuable resource. They have well established connections to power and resources. A type of infrastructure if you will. A solid foundation. Charitable causes, social lists, the who's who and who does what. And when one wants in on those resources, say, somebody trying to remember where they came from and help others escape poverty, one has no choice but to mingle a bit with old money and rub elbows with the Blue Hairs. Old money, like anything else, is an expendable resource, one that any wise person can and should tap into. Once you have enough money to buy a ticket to play the game, old money has to let you play. If not. they run the risk of being showed up by the new guy starting a new game, and falling out of social graces by not being "In" on what might be a new social fad. If you have enough money, they come to you. They hate you. They speak of murder behind shiny store bought smiles. It's all fake and phony coming from them, a game, a contest of oneupsmanship. If you know what you are doing, you can exploit this.

Money is, above all else, a headache.

I have money. I live as if I don't, most of the time. I shop at Wal-Mart. Almost all my clothes are nearly rags. 80% of my wardrobe is tshirts of the rock bands of the 80's. I have one suit that I think I might have worn two or three times... It's a classic piece of antiquity. Silk shirt, crushed velvet coat with tails. Classic southern style. Makes me look like a funeral director. Has pants, little suspenders that hold up the socks, and even has three pockets for guns, for the stylish river boat gambler. According to the little solid silver business card that came with the whole outfit. I am to afraid to wear it. And it's hot and uncomfortable. But Civil War era suits are what passes for high class fashion around here. Ew. Give me some shorts, a shirt, a nice vest with some practical pockets, sandles, and if I am outside, a good pork pie hat. Maybe a well pressed fedora for special occasions.

I make my own butter, cheese, and collect my own eggs. I milk my own goats. I walk around bare footed most of the time. I am constantly covered in animal hair and feathers. Looking at me, you would think I am some dirt poor dirt farming hick. I have a garden where I grow most of my own veggies. I plant my own corn. And berries of all kinds. And the hottest peppers grown this side of Hell. I have my own pecan trees, and grow sweet potatoes out in the strips of dirt lining the front walk that lead from the driveway to the front porch. I think sweet tater plants look pretty, and a bit less pretentious then some fancy flowers with big names that most folks line their front walks with. It's an obvious statement of who I am. The chickens keep everything mostly bug free, eleminating the need to spend money on expensive pest treatments. I live a simple comfortable life. I don't even own a car. Status? What status? Life is good the way it is. I don't try to do anything to make it more complicated then it needs to be.