Dept. of Justice...considers racial profiling. U.S. to become fascist country!

Last Fourth of July to be truly free...



When I thumbed through the morning newspaper the other day and came across a report alleging that the Dept. of Justice is entertaining the idea of "racial profiling", I thought I plucked up the "ONION" Newspaper by mistake.

The report noted that the government is tinkering with new guidelines to allow the FBI to investigate Americans without any "evidence" of wrongdoing - allowing the agents instead - to rely solely on a "profile" that would put the spotlight on Muslims, Arabs and other racial and ethic groups.

Currently, agents of Law Enforcement require a specific reason - or proof that a law has been broken - in order to investigate U.S. Citizens and legal residents.

The new policy would permit the FBI to open preliminary terrorism investigations after they have sifted through public records and available intelligence and managed to sketch a profile of traits from the crumbs - that when taken as a whole - may be deemed suspicious and/or worthy of pursuing.

Sounds like the kind of sinister plot Adolf Hitler might hatch up in a bold-faced effort to secure the destiny of his perfect Aryan Race, don't 'ya think?

Heil George W. Bush!

From the get-go - no matter how you fathom it - the wild scheme is un-American.

We have only to recite the inscription on the base of the Statue of Liberty to get our bearings in this regard:

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Are we to amend that to read,

"Only if your a**ses are Lily white and foreign free?"

Notwithstanding, the whole "idea" flies in the face of the U.S. Constitution.

Does the Bush administration intend to toss the whole concept of "Due process of Law" out the window, too?

In that event, the presumption of innocence would be lost.

Golly, the Founding Fathers of this country must be turning over in their graves!

But, the Government's jaundiced view of things gets worse.

Factors that could make someone the subject of an investigation include travel to regions of the world known for terrorist activity and/or where there is access to weapons or military training.

In addition, a person's race or ethnicity would be a key factor in the decision to open up a clandestine investigation, too.

In fact, every citizen will be suspect under the new guidelines.

Whoa Nellie!

Are they daft?

The long and short of it?

I foresee a "controlled" society where the Nation's peoples - no matter their race, color, or creed - are not free by any stretch of the imagination.

Indeed - if any of the aforementioned guidelines are implemented - the U.S. may end up sliding down a slippery slope and along a dark and trecherous path to become a full-fledged fascist regime.

At that juncture - fear, suspicion, and uncertainty - will be rife around the Nation.

And, Americans will become the most-hated citizens of the world.

You can count on that, believe me.

If anything, I surmise terrorist threats will increase!

I also expect that there will be an uprising within unstable U.S. borders - and that just maybe - there may be an overthrow of the government, too.

One has only to look to the U.S. Constitution to understand why.

"We the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

Understandably - once there is a loss of "domestic tranquility" and irreparable harm to the "general welfare" of the people - the citizenry will pay heed to the prophetic third sentence of the remarkable - "Declaration of Independence" - and demand a call to action.

"That to secure these rights [to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness], governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; that, whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundations on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness."

As Edward Abbey once said,

"A patriot must always be ready to defend his country from his Government."

Amen!

Methedrine...Drug addicts unusual request. Party girl "Tina" prevails in West Hollywood!

After tossing my dirty laundry into the washer, I headed outside for the normal routine.

With dustpan and whisk in hand, I vigorously began to scour the inside of my vehicle, so that it would be pristine clean before the cycles in the laundromat were complete.

As I stepped over to throw some trash in a garbage receptacle a hop-and-a-skip away, I noticed two young men casually chatting in the front seat of a late-model Mercedes Benz.

The driver was kind-of cute with a distinctive gleam in his eye.

When I opened up the back hatch of the SUV, the duo pulled up alongside of me.

"This may be an odd question," the mid-thirties chap forewarned me.

"But, are you clean? I mean, have you been drinking or taking any drugs in the past two days?"

Say what?

I hesitated for a sec, then politely responded, "no".

"My friend," he uttered under his breath, "has to take a drug test. He needs some clean urine."

At this juncture, I peered in the front window and noticed an African-American male in dark wrap-around sunglasses sitting in the passenger side, with a two gallon plastic jug in his lap.

Without skipping a beat, the obvious rounder moved in for the kill,

"Can you give us some urine?"

"Sorry, No." I responded without skipping a beat.

Then, off they sped.

Unfortunately, the problem with "Tina" - Methedryne - has reached epic proportions around the country. So much so - that in West Hollywood and other gay communities in San Francisco and New York - a handful of organizations have engaged in an all-out effort to try to curb the insidious reach of the nasty drug.

A current billboard campaign says it all:

"I lost me to Meth"

The problem isn't necessarily the cost of the drug.

No, it's the addictive qualities of the sexual stimulant - both physically and psychologically - that make its effect so devasting in the community at large (both gay and straight).

Many addicts have lost their jobs, and their homes, as loved ones finally gave up in dismay and turned their backs.

The decline can be quick, too.

About eight months ago, I used to see a good-looking well-built young man around the neighborhood, the epitome of good humor and great health.

Gainfully employed, too.

Within months, I have noticed a marked difference.

For example, his hygiene has deteriorated rapidly, at times he appears to be disoriented in the street, and - judging from the tote bag he's been dragging around the streets - it is evident that he has become homeless, as well.

Lost his job, too; so the gossip-mongers say.

The rumor is that he is addicted to meth!

What are some physical signs that someone is using methamphetamine?

For starters, there is a lot of teeth grinding, obsessive picking of the face or body, hallucinations (in what one sees and hears), euphoria, extreme energy, inability to sleep for days, dramatic weight loss, paranoia and violent behavior.

I've witnessed six of the factors in the young man I just spoke of.


Methamphetamine is a stimulant that affects the body’s central nervous system.

Commonly known as - "crystal," "speed," "meth," or "Tina" - methamphetamine is an off-white odorless crystalline powder that tastes bitter and easily dissolves in water.

The popular high may be smoked, snorted, injected or swallowed.

Methamphetamine increases energy and suppresses appetite. It slows digestion and increases alertness and concentration. The effects last from six to twelve hours or more. Depending on how much or how long one uses, one can become easily agitated, which can sometimes lead to violent behavior.

Methamphetamine, like cocaine, strongly activates the reward and pleasure systems of the brain, particularly three important brain chemicals called neurotransmitters: dopamine, serotonin and norepinephrine.

As a result, methamphetamine elevates mood, induces euphoria, increases alertness, reduces fatigue, increases energy, decreases appetite, increases movement and speech, and/or provides a sense of increased personal power.

If you've ever met someone high on "Tina", they'll usually ask you if you "party".

No, this does not mean would you like to go "dancing" or indulge in a harmless social cocktail or two.

Essentially, when the question is posed, the addict is seeking another "tweeker" to share the experience (and the cost of it) with.

God forbid, you should meet someone high on the junk.

It's a very frustrating sexual experience - no matter what an Adonis they may be - to wait out the ups-and-downs of a rubber dick so the both of you can finally "get off" fourteen hours later!

I say, walk the other way.

After all, the drug eventually "hijacks" the reward and pleasure system.

In addition, Methamphetamine increases blood pressure, heart rate and sweating, and causes anxiety, irritability, insomnia, paranoia, and sometimes even psychosis.

Once the high wears off, mental and physical exhaustion set in, often with a deep depression that sometimes includes thoughts of suicide.

Methamphetamine is usually found in a crystalline powder form that is off-white, odorless, bitter-tasting, and dissolvable in water.

Ingredients used in methamphetamine production are highly toxic, potentially explosive, and/or flammable.


Methamphetamine emerged as a party drug for gay and bisexual men during the 1990s - and it is attributed to lowering inhibitions and contributing to high-risk sexual behaviors that often spread - HIV/AIDS, Hepatitis C - and other sexually transmitted diseases.

What can an individual expect when coming down or withdrawing from meth?
Methamphetamine withdrawal - or "crashing" symptoms - can last from days to weeks and involve loss of energy, depression, fearfulness, prolonged sleep or difficulty sleeping, shaking, nausea, sweating, hyperventilation, increased appetite, irritability and drug craving.

Methamphetamine causes long lasting changes in brain chemistry, particularly in the pleasure systems of the brain, as well. These dramatic changes impact abilities such as memory, judgment, and reasoning. Other long-term effects include extreme cravings for the drug and dreams of use.

These brain changes do not disappear quickly after an addict stops using methamphetamine and are important factors leading to relapse.

Once an addict discontinues the drug - and gets treatment - it is wholly possible for a normal lifestyle to return.

The sooner a user gets into treatment, the better; and, the longer a user stays in treatment, the greater the chances that treatment will be effective.

Treatment is possible for methamphetamine dependence through a variety of services, including residential treatment.

Because Methamphetamine causes specific problems for the user, the issues must be addressed in a treatment program that is customized for the individual addict.

A Methamphetamine overdose can cause serious damage to the individual's health - including failure of vital organs such as the kidney and heart.

For every pound of methamphetamine manufactured, approximately six pounds of toxic waste is created.

In the final analysis, this waste is often deposited in backyards, storm drains, parks, and along roadsides.

Yuck!

The California Methamphetamine Initiative (CMI) is a statewide effort created by the California Department of Alcohol and Drug Programs (ADP) to reduce the use and abuse of methamphetamine by Californians.

The CMI seeks to prevent methamphetamine abuse, encourage discontinuing use, and motivate individuals to seek help through community outreach and treatment.

The efforts of the CMI include education for practitioners on promising practices in prevention and treatment, as well as active local collaboration with existing anti-methamphetamine efforts by county programs and community-based organizations to address the growing methamphetamine problem in California.

Also, an important part of the CMI’s efforts is a research-based statewide advetising and public relations campaign, "I lost me to Meth".

Help is available for addicts at the following toll-free number:

1-866-STP-METH
1-866-787-6384

The Globe Theatre...star-crossed lovers! Curtain call...

The other day I was skimming through my resume, when I was reminded of a couple of stints I was involved in on the "boards" at the Globe Theatre in West Hollywood, where I honed my acting skills among other things.

In one of the productions (where I played a lowly messenger) I appeared on stage at the beginning of the production for about three seconds.

Then, did not make another entrance until the final act of the Shakespearean play.

So, for about an hour or so each evening, I usually twiddled my thumbs on the sidelines or rehearsed my lines in the parking lot out back ad nauseam.

How much drama can you dredge up from three simple lines, eh?

No matter.

During the course of the four week run, I managed to conjure up every conceivable nuance, all in the name of my craft and the great tradition of the Theatre!

As most residents of West Hollywood are no doubt aware, the Globe Theatre used to share a parking lot with the trendy watering hole, Hugo's.

One night, as I strutted about in the dark lot rehearsing my lines, a well-known celebrity (with date in tow) strode toward their car after a candlelit dinner at the chic little boite.

As I glanced over, the celeb must have been thrown off-guard.

For a mesmerizing second or two - our eyes locked - and pangs of desire fired up in my chest (and elsewhere!).

Sadly, the couple scrambled into the waiting vehicle and within seconds they were cruising off down the street, out of sight.

Meanwhile, I was left behind in a lurch fantasizing about what may have been!

Within minutes, I was back rehearsing my lines.

Suddenly, about ten minutes later, the Hollywood Star drove back into the parking lot, alighted from the vehicle, and shyly glanced in my direction.

Perplexed, I stared back.

For one egotistical moment, I assumed cupid returned for me!

"Forgot my credit card," the sexy thespian mumbled.

Foolish me!

After dashing inside, the TV personality strode back to their car.

I thought that was that.

But, as we stared in each other's direction, we were inexplicably drawn to each other for some strange reason.

Within seconds, we were suddenly standing face to face under the romantic starry night.

Then, found ourselves in a clinch kissing passionately.

Before I knew it, we were in the front seat of my car, going at it!

No mean feat - since I was dressed in full Elizabethan costume - with lace up boots, tights, and a nattily-designed jacket festooned with fancy doo-dads and restricting fashion flourishes here and there!

Notwithstanding, the intensity of the scenario was heightened by the fact I was due on stage in about eight minutes and my breath-taking tryst needed to get back to their date before suspicions were aroused - um - so-to-speak.

As my sexy companion drove off, I was in ninth heaven.

But, my high spirits quickly plummeted to earth when the irate strains of the stage manager's voice pierced the cool night air in search of me.

No acting required here.

The scene called for me to dash up to the King - out-of-breath - and report news of such great import that it would impact the Nation. In view of what had just transpired, and the dilemma I had just been in, I managed to pull off my moment in the spotlight "believably" for the first time on stage and without one hitch!

For a short time after that, my clandestine date and I would occasionally cross paths at A-list parties around Tinsel town. Usually, we'd just grin at each other sheepishly from across a crowded room, then go on our merry way with our dates.

Although the individual has since passed to spirit, I often recall that fated occasion when our lone ships passed in the night.

Better to have had one precious moment of passionate love in secret than none at all.

Star-crossed lovers?

You bet!

Tropical Birds...Polly want a cracker!

I was strolling down Kings Road the other night - minding my own business, as usual (Ha!) - when a tropical bird high up in the exotic foliage of an old banana tree actually whistled at me!

I looked skyward in amazement, as a couple sauntered by on the street and laughingly noted,

"That silly bird always does that!"

The surprise incident triggered a memory of one of my favorite jokes.

What does a forty pound parrot say?

Polly want a cracker right fu**ing now!


Putting on the Ritz...

Truman Capote...a brief encounter!

Years ago, I rented a small flat on quaint Flores Street in the heart of West Hollywood.


One of my favorite past-times was to slip into the Nicholas Wilder Contemporary Art Gallery on Santa Monica Boulevard right across from Circus Books (stocked with skin mags, mostly) where David Hockey was often spied in the backroom flipping through racy gay porn.


Talk about the distance between high and low-brow art!


Wilder's gallery was an oasis in a vast cultural wasteland long before galleries opened their doors along Melrose, La Cienega, and La Brea.


After mingling with the likes of Jack Nicholson at an afternoon art opening, I trundled on down the street to the Posh Bagel where I planned to snack on a couple of their house specialties.


As I strolled down the strip, suddenly I spied Truman Capote sauntering along in my direction just up-a-ways. Obviously, he was a friend of Nick's, and on his way to take in the stimulating exhibition.


As we were about to pass on the sidewalk, Mr. Capote half-turned, eyed me appreciatively up and down, and exclaimed:


"Oh my!"


I chuckled, gave a little nod, and went on my merry way.


Later, I could of kicked myself.


I guess I should have stopped and engaged in a little idle chit-chat.


After all, the celebrated author was quite a remarkable intellectual, and a fascinating complex person, to boot!


Ah, but I still have the memory of our brief encounter!


One of my favorites quotes pertains to his hilarious observations about Tinsel town.


"It's a scientific fact," he slyly asserted one day.


"For every year a person lives in Hollywood, they lose two points off their IQ."

Portrait of Nicholas Wilder by David Hockney

(Nick tried to set me up with the artist being blond, pretty & all!)

Elvis Presley...Lisa Marie and Priscilla shun efforts to raise funds for El's star!

Elvis in lanky handsome days...


Oh, pooh!

I read in one of the local dailies this week that fans have raised about $13,000.00 to honor the King with a star on Las Vegas Boulevard in front of the Riviera Hotel.

However, there appears to be a shortfall. Another two grand is needed to cinch the deal before El's much-deserved plaque may be unveiled in the desert oasis amid ten million points of glittering light.

Should be a simple matter to raise a couple of thousand bucks for the King, right?

Frankly, I was disgusted to learn that when Lisa Marie, Priscilla, and a major shareholder of the Elvis Presley estate were approached, the fans were snubbed. In fact, they didn't even get the courtesy of a reply.

Imagine that, the generous Hollywood Star and Vegas Legend filled their sow's purses. But, they can't cough up a few lousy pesos to assist his fans in reaching their cherished goal?

I find it incredulous that no one at City Hall - or even a handful of officials in government - have made any good-faith effort to pitch in, either.

What a nasty oversight when you consider that Elvis was a big draw in Vegas, lined a lot of pockets with cold hard cash, and made the city a popular destination spot for Entertainment.

Elvis memorabilia is a big seller on the strip, too. And, Elvis impersonators abound in lounges all around "show city", raking in the dough because of the enduring legacy of the "man".

But, no one cares about honoring the giant with a star?

He must be crying in his grave!

Although Elvis might say - "Fools rush in" - I have no qualms about doing so myself.

I say, shame!

What a bunch of selfish, inconsiderate, bast**ds they are in Sin City!

Boycott Vegas, folks, 'til Elvis gets his overdue star on the strip!

Liberace...King of Glitter's Museum sight-seer attraction in Vegas!

I was zipping along a busy Vegas street when I spotted the Liberace Museum out of the corner of my eye.

I did a quick u-turn, pulled into the almost-empty parking lot, then screeched to a halt.

Drats!

The Museum wasn't open yet. To make matters worse - all the windows were decorated with a sort of metal lace (Kinky!) - thus preventing any old hapless peeper from getting a whiff of what was tucked away on display inside.

As I plucked up a bottle of water to quench my thirst at the local convenience store across the street (the temperatures have soared in Vegas and revved up the mercury to a sizzling 107 degrees mid-day) the shopkeeper noted that busloads of tourists descend on the museum every day to take a gaggle at the Liberace memorabilia.

The next day, a gossip columnist in the morning daily, noted that Bette Midler (the chanteuse is in town performing on the strip) floated through the museum recently and raved about the fabulous jewels and luxurious furs.

That bit**!

Just kidding, Bette. Luv 'ya, every since I caught you at "The Palace" back in the seventies in New York City!

Years ago, after I first arrived in Hollywood with suitcase in hand, I was attending a chi-chi soiree in the oh-so-chic Hollywood Hills, when a young stud grabbed me by the arm and trotted me over to the edge of the patio.

"See those trees across the canyon? That's where Liberace lives."

We could only imagine what was going on right then and there in Lib's digs.

Having a cucumber facial, perhaps?

Or savoring an invigorating rub-down at the hands of a scrumptuous boy toy in the buff?

But life for Liberace was not always so open and carefree.

In 1956, when Liberace toured England - and subsequently played at the London Palladium - a reviewer at the Daily Mirror hinted that Liberace was a puff (English term for "fag").

The flashy entertainer was so appalled by the published comments, that he was inclined to sue the daily rag for libel.

Some of the mean-spirited comments the columnist levelled at Liberace sparked a lot of controversy at the time.

"He is the summit of sex - the pinnacle of masculine, feminine, and neuter. Everything that he, she and it can ever want," the journalist snidely accused in one segment of the "attack".

Then, as if to substantiate his claims by consensus, he noted for the record:

"I spoke to sad but kindly men on this newspaper who have met every celebrity coming from America for the past 30 years. They say that this deadly, winking, sniggering, snuggling, chromium-plated, scent-impregnated, luminous, quivering, giggling, fruit-flavored, mincing, ice-covered heap of mother love has had the biggest reception and impact on London since Charlie Chaplin arrived at the same station, Waterloo, on September 12,1921."

At this juncture, he launched ahead full throttle in what amounted to an outright character assassination,

"This appalling man - and I use the word appalling in no other than its true sense of terrifying - has hit this country in a way that is as violent as Churchill receiving the cheers on V-E Day."

"He reeks with emetic language that can only make grown men long for a quiet corner, an aspidistra, a handkerchief, and the old heave-ho. Without doubt, he is the biggest sentimental vomit of all time. Slobbering over his mother, winking at his brother, and counting the cash at every second, this superb piece of calculating candy-floss has an answer for every situation."

"There must be something wrong with us that our teenagers longing for sex and our middle aged matrons fed up with sex alike should fall for such a sugary mountain of jingling claptrap wrapped up in such a preposterous clown."

The man had quite the acid tongue, eh?

Needless to say, the lusty diatribe got his di** caught in a wringer!

Liberace sued. And surprisingly - when the case ended in 1959 - the glittering showbiz King was the victor with $8,000.00 pounds sterling bulging out of the rich lining of his pink velvet purse.

Of course, after winning the court litigation, he was inclined to chirp:

"I'm laughing all the way to the bank."

Although Liberace stated on the witness stand that he was not "homosexual" and noted to the Judge that sexual practices of that nature offended society (him too!) - curiously - he ended up in court a couple of decades later under related issues.

Scott Thorson - Liberace's "secretary-cum-chauffeur" - sued for "palimony" in 1982. In that case, Liberace settled out of court, though. Thorson was rumored to have received a settlement of $95,000 in cash, three motor cars (including a Rolls-Royce) and a couple of dogs.

At the time of his death in 1987, Liberace was living in an elegant home where the master bedroom was painted with a re-creation of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, the lawn was centrally heated, and an eye-catching piano-shaped swimming pool beckoned water sports enthusiasts out back.

In his final days, Liberace was known to have lamented,

"No one loves me but the public".

That may have been true.

In spite of a couple of unsavory scandals in his private life - and the whispers about his homosexuality at a time when the gay lifestyle was scorned upon by the public at large - fans adored him anyway.

Do you think the little old blue-haired ladies didn't know he was "queer"?

Impossible. They gracefully looked the other way.

The reason was quite simple.

Liberace not only acted with discretion, but in good taste; likewise, he conducted his affairs in a dignified, classy way.

Arthur Wellesley once said,

"Be discreet in all things, and so render it unnecessary to be mysterious."

Marilyn Monroe...crypt in Westwood tourist attraction!

After a delightful afternoon in Westwood at an art exhibition, I slipped into the Westwood Village Memorial Park Cemetery to take a gander at the crypt of screen siren, Marilyn Monroe.

Just as I expected, fresh cut flowers adorned her resting place.

Although the Westwood Cemetery stands in the shadow of the Oppenheimer Building on Wilshire - and is postage-sized - there are a number of heavyweights interned there.

Just a few steps away from Marilyn, for instance, tourists can take a peak at Producer Ross Hunter's plaque.

And, some of the headstones are etched with hilarious epitaphs.

For instance, on Merv Griffin's understated stone the script reads,

"I will not be right back after this message."

What would you expect from the loud-mouthed comedian, Rodney Dangerfield?

"There goes the neighborhood," he chuckles from the great beyond.

Dean Martin's last words are taken from one of his hit tunes.

"Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime."

I found it ironic that a couple of plots over from Jack Lemmon, Billy Wilder hails. If you recall, the dynamic duo teamed up on the hit comedy, "Some Like it Hot".

Other luminaries such as - Walter Matthau, Louise Jordan, and Mel Torme - attract a host of fans from all parts of the country each year - pining to pay their respects.

Across town, at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, fans of the great and not-so-great can whisper in awe at the tombs of - heart-throb Rudolph Valentino (we share the same birthday, May 6th), screen idol Tyrone Power, actress Fay Wray, dashing Douglas Fairbanks Jr., sex goddess Jayne Mansfield, screen tough guy Edward G. Robinson - and a multitude of others.

In fact - the grave sites have become such a ghoulish attraction in this regard - that it was only inevitable that sight-seers would be hungry to hover over the fated spot where they met their final demise, too.

So, enter - "Graveline Tours" - a company that takes you on a tour of the locations where celebrities gasped their last breath.

Along the way, you may stop outside of - "The Viper Room - to take a respectful glance at the spot where River Phoenix collapsed, for instance. Or, check out the mysterious garage on Holloway Drive, actor Sal Mineo stepped out of to meet his appointment with death.

For the longest time, I thought pilgrimages to grave sites were foolish, a waste of time. After all, weren't the precious memorials just a way to "mark" a sentient being's "time" on this mortal coil?

But, a couple of years ago, I was inclined to reconsider that notion when an eerie experience jolted me into reality.

One day, I embarked on a trip to Forest Lawn in Toronto, to pay respects at my own father's tomb.

Because "Victor's" stone had been a bit neglected over the years - what with my mother gone and myself residing in the U.S. - it had unfortunately slipped into the ground a bit out of plain view.

So, after the grounds-keeper assisted me in locating the plot, I proceeded to tidy up the vicinity of his marker and planted a flowering bush to brighten up the site a bit.

As I turned to stride off, I couldn't help but notice the stone adjacent to my Dad's was a bit neglected, too.

I felt a little pang in the deep recesses of my heart; it was as if someone was crying out to me, but who?

"Aw, what the heck," I said to myself. "Why not tidy up that stone, too?"

Shortly after I began to sweep dust and debris off the stone, I was suddenly taken aback when I spied the name etched on the marble placer for the first time.

Oh my God! It was my Aunt Louise's burial site!

A chill ran up and down my spine. Gosh, was she the one urging me from the eternal ether to take some compassion on her neglected stone, too?

Although the grave site may not be a soul's final resting place - undoubtedly - a grave site on this earthly plane is a place where a loved one may connect to a spirit that has passed.

Like humans, souls get nostalgic, too.

Walter Scott once said,

Death, the last sleep? No, the final awakening.

Kitty said what? Morphing cats!

Bisexuality...a definition!

A bisexual is either trying to get in on everything -
or grab-a-hold of whatever he can!

Julian Ayrs
The Daily Planet
Collection of Poems