CAT | The Left/Its Minions/Obama
During the time I had been without insurance (for the first time in my adult life), every trip to get pills was like embarking on an African (should we say Kenyan, maybe?) safari with no hat, canteen, or rifle: $600 for Xarelto (even with a Maricopa County Discount Card – free to own, just download!), $600 for Januvia (I stopped taking it), $30-$60 each for most of the other chronic conditions I have dealt with for the last 25 years plus plus plus. That doesn’t even count the mandatory bottle of Coke Zero at checkout!
Add to that an income that had dropped in one day from $$$,$$$ to $$,$$$ (under the halfway point, kiddos), and you begin to envision what a desperate, diabetic, hypertensive, permanently-clotting and ever-inflamed one-car pileup I had become!
But God was on my side. So was my Latina love Gabby, with her calm, sweet, and positive demeanor (“You are a good man, baby, a strong man, a smart man, we will be fine, our time is not God’s time”). And of course so was Barack Obama, his arms outstretched to yours truly with a fully-subsidized (my new income of $$,$$$ was well under the current Affordable Care Act Federal Poverty guideline of $94,200 for a family of four) Obamacare Maricopa Silver PPO of my own!
I won’t tell you there wasn’t some red tape involved – there was a lot actually, (with more to come, probably), and not everyone was onboard. (Picture my ex-wife, fangs bared, snarling at the gates of Socialism, pacing, not willing to settle for one penny or deduction less than currently allotted to her by the county and state judiciary. But fuck her – you can’t be scared about just that bitch when you are broke, busted, and possibly terminally depressed.)
The point is, life goes on after you lose your job, and even the best of us will latch on to the most expedient and least-costly way to survive. Don’t kid yourself about that. And although the following saga may be of limited use to most of you, it is a primer of sorts for all the rest of you soon-to-be-unemployed or under-employed schmucks who didn’t plan for the future, or maybe did, but made some mistakes along the way and didn’t anticipate the always annoying and sometimes debilitating road-closures of life.
Since it is usually best to begin at the beginning, let us hearken back to
September 3, 2013 (evening hours): I’m pretty sure God has me where he wants me. He had to get a little (righteously) pissed to get my attention, but, dammit, he does have it now, what with his knee – heavy, insistent, and massive – pressing urgently against my neck. His breath is raspy yet powerful, and blows forth like a mixture of carbon, cold winter rain, and Lake Superior whitecaps. I briefly consider the efficacy of marketing such an elixir as a unisex cologne, but then he leans into my windpipe just a tad harder, and my brain wants to explode into an infinite number of shattered cortical stars.
He leaps up/reaches down/hoists me up by my t-shirt. (In one fluid move, dude.) He is of course more muscular than any statue of any deity ever, and you sense the awful and absolute finality with which he could dispatch you – even though, in this case, he’s only trying to make a point.
He is not winded in the least. The tempest has passed…he is calm and magnificent in his bearing. But all the same…
I can tell he’s a little on edge, maybe even perturbed.
“You know, Johnny, I don’t really like to rely on my human attributes unless I have to – they are notoriously unreliable and create a lot of angst and…irritation, if I don’t mind saying so.
“But you are one of my more irritating creations, and it seems to be one of the few ways I can finally get your attention and stop having to minister to you all the time.”
He shoots me a nasty look. His eyes are dark and foreboding, his visage hawklike. My stomach turns into gurgling village-water.
We are in some sort of Roman gymnasium, maybe first century AD. There are no mats – only the hard cracked marble floor. There is a sense of decay in the abandoned building – big sections of the walls and ceiling have shed chunks of masonry.
“So without belaboring the point, here is why you are here tonight, Mr. John Nampion: You are clinically unable to make a change in your life without being forced, my dear boy.
“And whether you realize it or not, you pray to ME for that change every single day.
“Look at the last seven years of your life, ever since you moved to Phoenix. Divorce, financial ruin, loss of respect from your family, your bosses, your co-workers, even those few people who call themselves your friends. None of them could get you to eliminate or modify even one item in your code of conduct.
“Yet you were miserable. You ate, drank, and rutted yourself (in some very pathetic and disgusting ways, I might add) into oblivion, always hoping for some sort of way out.”
The Lord rocks back and forth on his heels, rhythmic and hypnotizing, then begins dancing in a Sugar-Ray shuffle, up and down on the balls of his feet, lithe yet menacing in his simple cotton Karategi, his arms pop-pop-popping in explosive jabs and uppercuts. Soon he is shadow-boxing his way around the gym, circling closer to me with each whoosh of his fists, his feet smacking and sliding, a whirlwind drum solo on the cold and debris-strewn floor.
He is now within arms reach of me. He stops suddenly, and I know something dramatic is about to happen.
And the God of all creation roareth thus:
“So, tonight, my dear Johnny, you will GET YOUR WAY OUT!”
I expect fireworks, or maybe to be immediately kicked from one alternate reality to another.
Instead we just continue to stand there, looking at each other.
“Well?”, I ask.
God stares back at me, quizzical.
“Well, what?”, he rebuts.
“What change is about to happen?”, I ask, resentment creeping into my voice.
It isn’t wise policy to be miffed at Jehovah, but he is making me cranky, after all. I had just lost my job (Operations Manager/Assistant VP of Collections) that very morning – My boss flew down from the home office and immediately fired the few remaining dolts who had lingered for far too long. No severance, no notice, no nothing. 20 years of loyal service smashed on the rocks of a very bad economy – and some stupid corporate decisions, to boot. (I was absolutely blameless.)
So I am in this place, not sleeping like I should be, fretting about my future, wondering what will happen to my kids and what will I do to take care of them, wondering if I had panicked right after getting axed by calling a rival Accounts Receivable Corporation and taking a desk job without even putting out a resume. It was easier than being unemployed – and I knew the owner and my immediate supervisor and many of the employees. Even though they hired me for less than I was making in my second year in the collection business (1992), there is commission and bonus opportunity. And I hear they have a health insurance plan, too.
God isn’t interested in any of that. He feints a quick left jab at my head then laughs, a bit too sardonically, in my opinion.
“You know that saying about change being good, right Johnny?”
I don’t respond. My underwear is sweaty and my t-shirt is a bit too tight in the belly, especially after the Lord of Hosts had yanked on it so profusely.
“Listen, Nampion. Don’t you get peeved with me. Although my main function here is to serve as a device, I am still the Lord Thy God, and I can still appear simultaneously in an infinite number of places and I can still definitely put a world of hurt on you if I so desire. So watch it.
“Over the next several months, and maybe even years, you will find out that life isn’t so easy. You went through the same thing in your teens and 20′s, but you have largely forgotten the lessons of that time.
“I am not doing this to you, you have requested it, and I do believe in honoring requests when they have some value.
“You must be careful to avoid a doctrinaire world-view, because many of the things that you are about to experience will clash with your conservative beliefs. That does not mean that those beliefs have no value – it just means there is more than one way to experience the world and the events that flow through it.
“So you will have to be fair – very fair. You will get to see life through the eyes of the least of mine. And ultimately it will empower you, and make you a better person. Especially when it comes to your kids. You have done an untold amount of damage there, but you will find a way to make it right.”
There is an awkward silence – at least on my end. He winks at me and is suddenly dressed like a really bad tourist – he has a powder blue shirt on, wrinkled and untucked, collar all hackneyed, with about a hundred white whales spewing an unknown grayish liquid from their blowholes. His brown stiff cargo shorts are turned a bit to the side, and appear to be unwashed. The Nikon hanging from his neck is definitely legit, and is missing the lens cover. Dirty brown deck shoes, no socks, and a Rasta hat over a suddenly straight and unkempt lump of brown hair (no beard! Weak jaw!) finishes out the ensemble. Oh, yeah – Ray Bans. Don’t ask me why. They are way too good for the rest of him.
“So goodbye – for now. You can always ring me up on the Blackberry – but keep those minutes to a minimum, my friend!”
Bet you can’t wait for instalación de dos!
Affordable Care Act · Barack Obama · Collection Agencies · CVS · Gabby · God · Insurance · Jesus Christ · Maricopa Silver PPO · Obamacare · Prescription Drug Costs · Sinaloa · Total Fucking Loser · Tufesa
Here is the link to the real post: ‘Chemtrails,’ Ron Paul, and the Cost of Conspiracy in Arizona
Please peruse it, enjoy it, and comment profusely…the finished product reads exactly as it should (due to Mr. Swindle’s exacting editing skills)…nothing needs to be added, and nothing needs to be taken away….
But there is, in most posts, stuff that ends up on the cutting room floor that is kind of fun and witty, and you sort of enjoy it – almost like the rough heel of the bread smeared with butter and honey…it isn’t good enough for the discerning reader, but it does have its charms, and you would really prefer to keep it out of the trash can, at least for awhile.
So here is a peek at the original postscript before it gets consigned, once and for all, into the rusty, clanky, and offensively scented garbage receptacles – no, over there – in the right-hand sideyard of the mind….
About 30 miles southwest of Sedona, just below the summit of Mingus Mountain, four Paulite Acolytes fan out, awaiting the impending carnage.
It is dark all around. The SORPS (Soldiers of R. Paul) are united only by their black stealthy clothing, walkie-talkies, and sense of outrage. They communicate fluently via a series of Aboriginal tongue clicks – because you never can tell who might be listening.
They know, as only a few others do, that there is a secret underground U.S. Military base in the nearby town of Cottonwood; it is from here that the nearly-silent helicopters and jets come, issuing forth night after night, to slowly annihilate the reasoning abilities of John and Jane Doe, Americans.
The Mission, as always, is not to interfere (How un-Dr. Paul-like that would be!), but to collect data – to accumulate and amalgamate enough evidence to bring the rotten-to-the-core Military-Industrial Complex to its knees once and for all.
Although the duty is dangerous (think about it, people!), there is a sense of honor and Esprit de corps among the volunteers – they know that any night could be the tipping point in the battle against the Huns of War.
A slight vibration is felt from within the mountain and out in the surrounding sky; it is almost unnoticeable, but our veteran spotters know it like their own heartbeats – the Cavalry is coming! The clicks escalate – the enemy will be here soon – but what an honor, to be here, in this time and place, during the battle for the collective soul of human-kind!
Arizona Department of Environmental Quality · Chemtrails · Contrails · Illuminati · Islam · New World Order · Ron Paul · Sedona Arizona · The Artist Formerly Known as Prince · Trevor Baggiore · Ty-D-Bol · United States Air Force · Weed-B-Gon
For the second time in the last couple of years, I have the opportunity to thank David Swindle for helping me out with my writing career.
He gave me a shot at NewsRealBlog back when I first started flinging my thoughts into cyberspace, and even though I didn’t usually get a ton of views, he continued to let me post there, and gave me lots of good advice.
Now he’s given me a chance to make a name for myself at Pajamas Media Lifestyle. My first post apparently did fairly well, lots of comments, and he is guiding me through my second, which is having more problems than one of those Obama-backed solar-powered start-up companies.
Oh, well – David is a good man, and a very patient individual. I hope I won’t end up embarrassing him too much.
Click the link to to get to the story – John Nampion vs. the Hometown Community Homeowners Association.
Hope you like it.
Time for the obligatory monthly post here on nampion.com.
Yeah, I know, I am not only really good at this writing stuff, but my output is Bunyanesque…right?
I actually did do this post on August 10th, but my dear friend and editor-at-large “B” quashed it on the grounds that…well, it doesn’t matter.
(Don’t worry, B, they can’t see it.)
I am feverishly re-wording, of course, and hope to have the sanitized version out sometime in November.
Maybe I (lots of Narcissism here, I know, sorry, it’s really all about me these days) could increase my posting frequency by doing a daily or weekly grab-bag of stuff ala my childhood hero Earl Wilson:
“His Hollywood friends have rallied to his defense by taking a long and anonymous moment of silence.”
Of course Earl would never limit himself to a rehash of current doings in the Entertainment Industry:
“After 2.5 years of resisting the advice of his family, aides, and the American people, our fearless Toiler-in-Chief has decided to take a much-needed respite on Martha’s Vineyard.
“Despite entreaties to ‘get off the grid’, his Huzzah will limit the sun and sailing to Saturday afternoon, and will begin a series of 11-hour daily brainstorming sessions that evening, culminating with a strategy meeting on bus deployment and neighborhood reconnaissance with loyal ally Maxine Waters next Thursday.
“Aren’t we glad he’s on ‘our’ side?”
It’s a really fresh yet Art-Deco way to approach the events of the day. I’m actually thinking about doing it, when I finally get around to blogging again.
“Greetings, Gotham! Appearing tonight, and tonight only, at the world-renowned Ethel Barrymore Theater on Manhattan’s Great White Way, is our fearless, pugnacious, and righteous Leader-for-life, Barack Hussein Obama, in rash, anyway?
ABC 15 · American Folklore · Art Deco · Campaign Bus · Conservative Outpost · David Letterman · Discover The Networks · Earl Wilson · Ethel Barrymore Theatre · Great White Way · Hot Air · LA Times · Martha's Vineyard · Maxine Waters · Money News · My Friend "B" · Narcissism · Nasty Rashes · New York City · New York Daily News · New York Times · Paul Bunyan · Terrorism (Islamic)
“This video is no longer available due to a copyright claim by MSA UCSD.”
One Google search and it’s obvious who the culprit is:
Now I doubt they picked on Nampion.com: It’s such a minor site that I don’t think even my sainted Mumsie knows about it.
So they probably got a court injunction to stop the video from being seen. Funny thing is, it’s still available on YouTube. ClickIslamists and their cohorts on the left. I’ve said it before in these pages and I’ll say it again:
What are they so damn afraid of?
Anti-Semitism · David Horowitz Freedom Center · Discover The Networks · Muslim Student's Association University of California-San Diego · Muslim Students Association · Palestinian Wall Of Lies · YouTube
Nampion’s public service buy/sell/hold tip of the week:
BUY JihJong Toys. The little-known company just released its 1st product line last week, and my cousin, the fearless Jack Harmon, was there for the roll-out:
CBN · Communism · Discover The Networks · George Soros · GI Joe · Hot Air · Iran · Jack Harmon · Jihad · Kim Jong-Il · Kim Jong-Il Looking at Things · Mahmoud Ahmadinejad · Muhammad al-Mahdi · Muslim Brotherhood · NewsRealBlog · North Korea · Shiite Islam · Wiki Travel · Wikipedia
Since the artery in charge of bringing fresh and creative ideas to my brain is still on some sort of extended Federal leave, I have decided to take my friend Shannon up on her offer to give me an easy and fixed subject to write about. She views it as remedial assistance in its purest form.
So what is on my blogging schedule for tonight?
Why of course! A post about Gnomes.
My tall and cheeky associate derives great mirth from reminding me of my, er, shortcomings ; and if I am forced to actually write about them, well, so much the better!
Buck McKeon · Cerebellum · Dana Rohrbacher · Daylife · Don Young · Elves · Foodstamps · Gnomes · Government Shutdown · Hobbits · John Boehner · My friend Shannon · Newt Gingrich · Outside The Beltway · POLITICO · Politicus Whisperacanicus · Republicans in Name Only · Steve LaTourette · The National Park System · Trolls · William Jefferson Clinton
Listen up, peoples: That chart you see above has NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with Nampion’s SEXUAL CONFIDENCE – he is a roving, tigerish legend in suburban bedrooms from Ahwatukee to Avondale – and those are just the towns on the MAP.
He will admit, however, that his belief in his writing skills is at an all-time low…he just doesn’t seem to have it…his, er, blogging instrument is little more than a dull and flaccid pencil, suitable for grocery lists (“eight-count bag hot dog buns, large box original Cheez-its, two packages of brats, soda, Ding-Dongs, commercial-grade bottle Ketel One….”), note-writing (“Dear Mr. Antwerp: My daughter will not be attending phy-ed class today due to a large, wartish spot on her left thumb-knuckle, which started small but then grew in intensity and magnitude until….”), refrigerator stickies (“Hands OFF the Kalamata olives, you three, or you will ALL DIE!!!), and maybe the occasional jotting down of a unique thought (“She was a dark and slippery wind through my mind”), but not much else.
AT&T · Begunga Mike · Cheez-its · Coffee · Ding-Dongs · George Costanza · Kalamata Olives · Ketel One · Low "T" · My friend Shannon · NewsRealBlog · Peanut Butter Yum Yums · T-Mobile · Tasty Wisconsin Bratwurst · Thumb Warts
Daisy Khan · David Horowitz · Department Of Homeland Security · Discover The Networks · Feisal Abdul Rauf · Gabrielle Giffords · Geraldo Rivera · Islam · Jared Loughner · Jewish Defense League · Kingman AZ · Montenegrin Separatists · NewsRealBlog · Peter T. King · Professor Alan Dershowitz · The Mongols Motorcycle Gang · The Red Brigades · Timothy McVeigh
The process of watching our citizenry slowly succumb to the Almighty power of the U.S. Government is at once frightening and fascinating – we of course notice the train wrecks (Obamacare) and 10-car pileups (the castration of SB 1070), but let’s not forget those little nails that are pounded, daily and ceaselessly, into the burial box of American ingenuity and initiative.
They do the most damage, after all, because they just don’t seem important enough to worry about when you take them one at a time.