I live to be able to speak as I will. But sometimes freedom to speak can have someone killed.

To carry an opinion on a matter of consequences. Can lead to devastating circumstances.

If a silent note was carried through a mind of being seen, it would have saved all of the souls that were lost in between.

Yet, deep down inside someone had to be heard. To change history, to create sanity, to make sense of what is absurd.

For that we tip our hats to all of the brave orators in our country today. Stand, Speak, and continue to Evolve us in an American way.

Much as I hate

Relying on cold calculators

They keep me company

And don’t ask for much

The not so silver screens

With their artificial lifeforms

Fill gaps in a vacant space

That would otherwise collapse on itself

White noises whispered at night

Mingle with voices in my head

Overcrowding in a thick skull

I can never bring myself to cut the cord

It would only leave me lonely

In a mute world that no longer sings

They switch on and I forget

That someday there is an end

Everything forever sliding downhill

They give me something to do

Too busy for anything now

All time is occupied

Shunning silence

Disregarding the quiet

Pretending not to hear

When I’m being called back

They execute time quick and easily

Exterminate echoes of emptiness

Spreading through my life

Like pests in a decaying house

Things I’d rather kill than face

So as much as I hate it

I lie

Down each night

Asleep with some machine

I'm a brick

I am strong solid stable.

I can be the lasting cornerstone walls edifice.

I am the Khasekhemwy–Hierakonpolis still standing over 5000 years.

I am common.

I have been used ancients and architects alike.

I can also

to beat you bloody

wound torture extinguish

with one swift blow

or if I choose

with many.

I like an ax. I like the heft of the head, and the smooth ergonomics of it’s shaped hickory haft. I like the power conveyed when one is cocked overhead, lightly balanced, playing you like a fulcrum. I like the speed with which one falls, the weighted head using gravity for assistance.

An oddly shaped knife is all it is, forged for chopping. A billet of iron, or dense steel shaped and forge welded to a sharpened steel bit for penetration, and an eye pushed and punched through hot metal by a leathery-skinned artisan wielding a ball-peened hammer.

And with it the iconic images of Honest Abe building a cabin, George Washington owning up to the Cherry Tree fiasco, or even Lizzy Borden, who might have just been a crazy woman, or whose Poppa might have been a mean, mean man… history has left us uncertain as to which.

Either way, Lizzy undoubtedly shared mine and Abe’s love for the versatility and practicality of a good, old fashioned ax. Her daddy must have gained a newfound respect for it’s abilities too, right there at the end.

Monetary systems are typically created to benefit an entire group of people. Sadly, they are inevitably manipulated to mostly benefit only a portion of that group. One of the many reasons the human race is horrible in my mind.

Now let’s talk about what I think should come to everyone’s mind when asked such a question. LASER BEAMS! They can do things like give the family a great show or show the family to a great enemy. Correct a person’s vision or blind them. Remove tattoos from skin or emotional support animals from the living. Kill deadly bacteria or happy, healthy kids. Show what bullet your talking about during a presentation or present where the bullet you’re firing will show. We would all love to think that lasers are only going to be used for good but like the wheels on a bus, they go round & round…. and sometimes kill kids.

It was just on a news channel I watch

and I sat captivated

as this man

I vaguely had seen for decades

spilled his entire life

in paused pieces for hours

holding me there.

It could have been acting

it could have been a PR move

but I found myself spellbound

to the point

I looked up his films

and paid to watched three

on Prime

all so different

he was unrecognizable

when in character.

No matter the legal outcome

I'm guessing his singular soliloquy

will earn him a Robert Downy Jr. comeback.

The American people loves its tarnished heros

the flawed and flayed brave enough to reveal themselves

are not only forgiven but embraced

for the dents and dings

that make them all the more beloved.

I am not familiar with the term “hustle culture.” Sounds a bit like a disco re-revolution.

I once worked for a big company that sent me to a small town. There were many great employees there who were smart, who worked hard, and who could have done anything they wanted to do within that company, but many of them chose to stay at the bottom of the pay scale. They loved their home. They did not want to leave their extended families. They didn’t want a salaried position, or a bunch of overtime. They wanted to fish, hunt, visit their parents on the weekend, go to the high school football game, and eat fried bologna whenever possible. They were happy. They did not bitch because they didn’t have as much as some others. Nothing wrong there. They still worked hard and earned their dollar. This decision has it’s rewards.

That is not me, though. I don’t mind long hours. I’ll accept responsibility. I have a competitive streak a hundred miles wide. I believe anything can be accomplished with the right attitude and behaviors. I enjoy the rewards of leading a successful team.

This motivates me, and I use it to motivate others. I seek out energetic, positive people who fire me up; supervisors, subordinates and peers. Those are the people I want to spend time around and engage with. This behavior also has rewards.

At that same company I worked for, at the place where I first hired on as an associate, there were five or six of us who pushed each other every day. It was friendly competition, but we also helped each other, and cheered each other’s successes, even when they got promoted ahead of us. I knew that if they beat me they had to deserve it. They were working hard! And because they made it, I knew I would too. My time would come. I didn’t resent them at all.We stayed peers at every level, all the way to the top. We called each other every day. We shared successes and failures. They are the closest people I have to call “friends” to this day.

No one owes anyone anything. Our society is hung up on this concept. Neither you, nor I, deserve anything (excluding the debt we rack up). We don’t deserve a new phone. We don’t “have to have” a new car. We certainly don’t “need” that credit card. And we are not “in line” for a promotion. We literally get what we pay for. What comes out of any endeavor is exactly what you put into it. A business that promotes based on anything other than effort and attitude is a failing business. If you work at a place like that, go somewhere else quickly. And if things don’t change at the new place… look in the mirror. You just might be the problem.

If you don’t get paid enough it is your fault, no one else’s. You sound like a fool when you go around whining about it. You accepted the job. You agreed to the salary. If you want more… earn it. Outshine those who make more and you’ll get your compensation. Employers pay people to help them. If you are helping, it will get noticed. Complaining only makes you one of those people that your supervisor will avoid spending time around. Don’t be that guy. That guy will never get anything. If the job you have is the best option you have, then work that job. If it’s not your best option, leave it. But whining isn’t helping anybody, least of all you.

It is harsh, but I dislike those who do just enough to get by. Dislike is a strong word, but a real one. I dislike those who act and talk like they do everything and then bitch because they aren’t successful (as if bitching were everything). You know who I‘m talking about. I’m talking about the guy who has no sick days accumulated. And the guy who says stuff like, “I can’t believe they promoted Sally, she’s just a brown-noser,” when he didn’t even have the gumption to apply for the damned job himself. I dislike the, “that’s not my job,” guy, and the, “I would, but it‘s time for my break” guy. (You know who you are, Slacker.) None of those guys are going to be successful in my business.

And being the old, politically incorrect bastard that I am, I have very little pity for those who do even less than that lazy guy and still expect a payday at all.

So if any of what you just read is part of this “hustle culture” you speak of, then show me to the dance floor kiddoes, and back off! I‘ll show you how to step to that old hustle tune.

Shooby do, doobie-do, shooby doop, doobie-do staying’ alive, staying’ alive!

His words muffled in the back of her head as she watched him stir her remaining creamer into his pathetic coffee cup, yet she was unphazed. This was the thousandth time she had been robbed of her morning sweetener. Unknown to him, a little something was added the night before. This was Dave’s last day.