This is my life. Now you understand

As far back as I can remember, I have always cheated death or should I say, life has cheated me. I am a true believer that all things happen for a reason. I was only three when the neighbor boy and I were playing in our yard which was connected. The folks were having a get together. I remember the kid walking over to me carrying a one inch thick board, raising it over his head and slamming it down on mine as hard as he could. I also remember seeing stars, actual stars like a freakin cartoon. The lump raised on the top of my head was the size of a baseball. I ran to good old Mother, and she was talking. I was crying, and all she could say was, I must have done something to deserve that.

I was allowed to skip the second grade for reasons of the adult world but I had The others were eight in the third grade. Ok, by the time I was in the fifth grade, being now, ten, while most of the class were twelve and so much bigger than I, I was the target of bullying, big time. I am talking about a rough neighborhood to begin with, and getting at least a beating a day, I was afraid to head outdoors. The bully’s would actually chase me home and if I was lucky they did not catch me. no argument at that age, I was only six six. The thing was, at the age of six, to skip, placed me into an older class. These beatings would take place until I was ten or twelve.

So when one combines the attacks I received as a kid, and parents who were constantly fighting, a father who was drunk for as far back as I can remember, I was the one they always put in the middle to measure who was right. No child should ever be put in that situation, but I survived. My father would call for me personally when he threatened to cut off his feet, having me get a towel, a pot, and two sharp knives. He would make me watch but he would never go through with the act. But at that time, a ten year old should never be put in that situation wither. Basically, I felt so alone in the world so I kept to myself pretty much.

At eleven, I remember riding my bike, alone, when an older kid started to chase me for my two wheeler, stingray with the banana seat and whammy bar. I never received presents for any occasion, but a neighbor gave me his old bike when he got a new one. This would be the start of me, feeling deserving enough to own anything or except gifts graciously, go figure. So this older kid chased me into a school yard and I hit a wall head on. The bike raised on its front wheels and my head hit the wall, hard. That must of scared him because he left. I road home in a daze but before I got their, another kid walks up to me, grabs the bike, and punches me square in the nose, breaking it. When I got home, all my mother said was, how did that happen, then she walked away. I was eleven, no love was lost.

Now in middle school, we called it Junior High back in the day, I remember three different teachers beating me up at separate times for no reasons. I went to a very bad school where the kids were running rabid. I was a good kid, kept to myself, and always taught to respect elders, and ask questions when I didn’t know or understand something. Those teachers felt I was being a wise guy so that was their excuse for beating me up.

At twelve, my brother hit me in the head with a rock. I needed three stitches which cost my Mom ten dollars at that time. She was furious with me for getting hit with that rock and refused the doctor when he offered anesthetic which would have been an additional ten dollars at the time. Are we beginning to see a pattern here? Then they send me to a two week summer camp for twenty five dollars, not to better my life but to get rid of me I am willing to guess. This was the camp where the counselors wheeled canvas belts and used them to keep us in line and as far as I could see, we never did anything wrong. Maybe it was the time my brother, me seven, him twelve, placed shards of glass into my glass of juice causing me to almost die, well, I was told to suck it up by dear old dad.

I have been hit in my head so many times, the doctors say, one more time, and I will die.

One day we moved. I was thirteen years old at that time. I was left a note at the old apartment where to go. I rode my bike thirteen blocks and found the new address, which is how I even found out we moved in the first place. The house was a three story building with basement. My brother and sisters had their own rooms, I had the unfinished attic complete with bats, squirrels, and possums. I learned to cope by slowly finishing the attic in an artistic way. The home was a duplex and the neighbor took the time to talk with me at times. He found out I was interested in writing and I had shown him some of my stories. He gifted me a typewriter. He was kind and caring and I will never forget the man for taking time on me. By the way, this happened between the time my mother threw me down the fifteen stairs for no apparent reasoning, and the time my Father came home stinking drunk and attacked me with a hammer, just because.

I have always been a smart child and despite all the roughness in my world, I always was able to articulate on paper what I was feeling. This is my forte. I believe I am here for a reason, to write, and let others enjoy what I have written. I feel as if I live on borrowed time and use it all to write. I have managed to write seventeen books with three in the works. I have written for news, media, and comedians and not to mention tens of thousands of articles. I feel lucky despite what has happened to me. By the way, those bully’s from back in the day, have since passed away which is all the revenge I need for closure. My siblings, well, who knows where they are or how they are doing. I separated from them when I found the love of my life and married. The grandparents didn’t care enough to know my kids, and as for the siblings, they are only in it for themselves. I found out during a heated argument that I was never a wanted child. They also told me, I was the reason they grew up poor. I would receive wrapped up used socks for Christmas as gifts, my own used socks go figure. Birthdays, not even a “Happy birthday Rob.” I have always d=id well for myself and writing this was sort of a therapy for me. I am for the underdog, the weak, the challenged. I fight for those who cannot. That which did not kill me, did make me stronger and believe me, I still have a lot more to say and do. Thanks for the read and google me for more insight into why I am.

Mothers Day Wishes

We tend to send out random mothers day wishes to anyone who is a mother. We need to rectify this error with new rules. Any woman from the age of puberty can mother a child but a real mother nurtures their children. A good mother will watch over, protect and support their children. A real mother spends time with their child, yes, even with all the other things she has going on in her life.

There are good mothers and despite what you here on mothers day, their are bad mothers too. A good mother will tell their child that they support them no matter what they decide and never tell them they cannot, or no to anything that interests them.

A good mom will always take that time out of a busy schedule to hug at least once a day. A bad mom will ignore, beat, and even reject a child for no other then selfish reasons. A good mom will raise their sons and daughters and never pawn them off with a Grandparent or an Aunt. A good mom will never take alcohol or drugs, or even a man over their child.

So, now that we are straight on what a good mom is and a bad mother is, we can now go forth and give the good moms a very happy mothers day for a job well done, and for all the others, you get nothing, nada, ziltch, zip,zero and butkiss. No pat on the back for delivering a child, but a huge pat on the back of mothers everywhere for a job well done and thats how it should be, always.

Haleigh Cummings Spirit Talks

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Haleigh. She is still missing and has been for a long while.  Like all little children, we all live life in “the norm” although the norm in reality is abnormal. What children know is life is what it is.  Often we grow up and find out in the process that life is very different in other homes.  Haleigh knew no better then what she had.

Men are very different then women.  A woman is a natural born nurturer and a male simply is not.  A mother goes through the pain of childbirth and that fact is real.  Some would compare kidney stones to the pain of child birth but as we all know, a kidney stone can only pass if it is small enough.  I stand firm in saying that having a child is very painful and that creates the first sign of the bonding process between a mother and child.

Let’s just say a male will never bond with his child as much as a natural mother would.  Let’s also say, we have a situation, a child playing house with a man who is just not capable of coping with every day life’s issues.  So we have two playing house, a male and a female.  When the male is the older and the wiser and that is a stretch, while the child is under the control of the male things are less then perfect.  Now enter the pawn.  The pawn is an innocent child who was happy in her life but through trickery, she is snatched from a real life family situation and tossed into a couple playing house.

The daddy gets a job like all dads do, while the mommy, still a teen, does what teens do.  The play mom will only play her roll while daddy is home, for what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

The game gets old fast.  Now the child is getting older and wants more out of her life but Daddy is tired and can’t cope with her whining.  He wakes up with a child complaining, a girlfriend who is not mature enough to do things on her own and he snaps.

One back of the hand to a small child can kill.  Now we have a situation of one dead child, a immature girlfriend and a daddy who is not coping very well.  The daddy who needs to control every situation in this game does what he does best.  He tells the teen what to say and do and she resents it.  The child bride has visitors and they have a little party.  One of the visitors knows how to push the teens buttons especially when she is stoned.  He pushes her with words, he pushes and pushes until she starts to buy into what he says.  “Your husband controls you and you cannot do anything to protect yourself.  That little girl over their gets more respect from him then you do.  The teen walks over to the little girl and in a rage she kills her.

The daddy arrives home and orders the girlfriend to call 911 when the teen tells him his  child went missing while he was at work.  The girlfriend isn’t bright enough or creative enough to stick to the story so it obviously changes.

The daddy married the teen to keep her from testifying against him but he doesn’t really know the law because this just is not so.

If you take a step back, the daddy has a rap sheet as long as your arm and the play mommy is just a stoner who is doing what she is told.  The police won’t find any leads in this case because they are being mislead.  They turn left, the daddy steers them right and so forth.  Daddy should have never  been granted sole custody with his criminal record.

The people who really care about this case needs to only listen while they sleep.  This child cries out, “Mommy, where is my mommy this person hates me, I want my real mommy?”  she cries, she wonders, she is lonely in a dark place now thanks to peer, her teenage pretend mommy.  She will show us signs but we are focused on Daddy because he demands it.  “Daddy, why did you let this happen?  Didn’t you love me anymore?”  Daddy never loved her, he only wanted revenge on the mother of this child which halted all protections against her.   The teen never loved her, she was only jealous of her.

The sad truth is that the child will never be found.  People who lawyer up, usually has something to hide.  Innocent people stand on the truth and nothing more.  The only innocent here is a small child we know as Haleigh and she is a lost soul with no one to stand by her side because the truth in her case is so damaged.  I am a firm believer in karma and one day at least, it will smack Daddy right in the face.  The teen will fall under pressure.  The little lost soul will be scooped up by God and be taken care of.  In time, hells wrath will see to it that all involved will suffer accordingly.  Misty is a murderer, Ron is a fool, Family will protect this murderer as long as they can hold out, after all is said and done, Family will go  the way of, “Every man for himself.”

“Haleigh, you precious soul.  You are in the hands of whats right now, God hands, and all who were involved in your demise will fall for God doesn’t let evil deeds go unpunished.  God bless you Heleigh and may you now rest in peace.

Allen Klein- Manager to the rockers died

Allen Klein, manager for the Rolling Stones among other great rock bands in the late sixties and early seventies died today on the Forth of July.

He was hired by john Lennon to get the Beatles financial affairs in order late 1969.  Paul wanted his father-in-law, Eastman, to keep the Beatles financially sound but John was skeptical of that. 

Klein got to work right away skimming off the top and selling promo copies of Beatles recordings which cause a lot of friction between the Fab Four which single handedly led to the bands break up early 1970.

Klein stole millions from the band and although many blame Yoko Ono Lennon for the break up, but it was Klein who was the true cause.  He was accused of stealing more them $250, 000,000 from the band which cause fighting and chaos between the four. 

 

The King of P ed OP hiles is Dead

The modern day pan

What can I say about the death of Michael Jackson, plenty. In my opinion, while only a few years ago when the media was ripping Michael a new one for having children sleep in his bed after giving them wine, they now are acting as if they were best of friends and as the fake tears flow, so many of the innocent were forced to grow up prematurely.

Yes the popular self proclaimed king of pop, went broke trying to put out fires he created and has done more of that them creating music in the past fifteen years.

Those without the all mighty buck, hold out candy to lure our children away but not Michael, he designed a ranch, a complex just for that reason.  He went so far as to use plastic surgery to look like the Disney cartoon, Peter Pan, because as we all know, Peter also lured children away from their innocence. 

Pedophiles come and go and yet we all wish them death.  The difference here is that Michael sang songs which don’t make him any less guilty. 

Remembering all the fake marriages putting up a front for his lifestyle, one should wonder what his real agenda was, I don’t it was the children.

Now we are slobbering all over a person who made his own choices in life.  We all must die, that’s life and for me, one less person preying on our innocent children is not going to be a factor any longer. 

Michael might have saw a man in the mirror, but all I saw was a kid toucher.  I won’t be hypocritical as most, no; I refuse to honor a person like that.  As far as I am concerned, there is one less predator among us.

For those who serve this country

Memorial Day is a day for remembering those special people in all of our lives. We have to remember those extraordinary men and women who protect us from all of our enemies, those who hate everything we stand for, freedom, rights, and caring for our fellow mankind.

Fallen heroes are sometimes forgotten as we go about our daily life which is a shame. It is not only the military, but all of those who serve to protect and die in the face of freedom and who really know the meaning of those broad strips and white stars.

Here is to all the policemen who gave up their lives to protect us, the firefighters, who risk their lives to save us, and the military who goes that extra mile to fight the good fight without asking for a thank you. For all of you out there who cared enough to do for others, I thank you with all of my heart.

To the men who fought in our civil war and first world war, I thank you, for those who fought and died in the name of liberty in the second world war, I thank you, all eighty million who defended this nation and died in the name of freedom. For the Korean War and the Viet Nam vet I thank you, and for all of those who fight against the unseen enemy, the terrorist, I thank you all. God bless all the troops and the families whom always known their child was special.

We need not shed a tear for these hero’s but ever so often, as our eyes look up, and a smile comes over us, a remberance is a small price to pay for all they have sacfrificed for us. REMEMBER, THATS ALL THEY ASK IS THAT WE REMEMBER. Lets not let the memories of the forgotten soldiers simply fade away.

Ernie Dankovitz My Old Friend

Years ago I met a guy named Ernie Dankovitz. He in turn introduced me to Bob Hunlock, Richard McKanka, and together we formed our first garage band playing everything that was popular in 1969. We also formed a comedy group and although there were no venues to showcase out funny at the time like today, we did do parties and even a live show in front of three hundred. I did a parody on Groucho’s “You Bet Your Life quiz show” and Ernie played the sidekick. Even though we formed all of these things the greatest formation that came out of this meeting was indeed our friendship. This was a bonding of four souls that could not be broken.

Ernie was a quick wit. If one of us was stuck for a line, he would ad lib and save the day. He was also the true king of song parody. He was best at taking two songs that sounded the same and turning them into one, like, “Don’t Pass me By” by the Beatles, and “Brand New Key” by Melanie. When we played in front of people as a band, people would actually think he was Alvin Lee of Ten Years After because he looked just like him. I would put on a Led Zeppelin record and he would say, it was Janus Joplin on fast speed.
Ernie was a funny man and a very good friend. He taught me how to drive, how to live life, and how to welcome friendship into my heart.
As time grew the four of us apart, we knew, like long time relatives, that although we married and moved away, the bond is still there and always will be. Bob married and moved to Georgia, Richard died years before his time and Ernie passed yesterday. Yes, years ago I met a guy named Ernie, he was a best friend, and as my tears fall, I know in my heart, he is in much better place now. Ernie Dankovits, as I raise my glass I look up, all I can say is here to you bud, it was one hell of a ride.