I asked him how he enjoyed his life.
He told me he was free. He ate well. He did whatever he wanted to do.
He said, sure, some times were tough, but for the most part, he had no complaints.
He said he had kids, was married, had a good paying job, but he wasn't happy.
His kids hated him for working all the time. His wife constantly criticized him, and she had affairs.
His job was mundane and unappreciative.
He decided that his life was being wasted.
He decided that the people he loved didn't care about him.
He realized he had no reason for loving the people he thought he cared about.
He took off one day, and never came back.
He discovered how easy life could be if you just let it happen.
Then, he read me an article he found in a newspaper.
It was about the economy, and he commented on it. He was well educated and very articulate.
I realized he was much more intelligent than I was. He had chosen his life, and he was living free.
Compared to my life back then, I was working 6 day a week, 12 hours a day.
My best posssession was a 1972 Mazda Rx2. I had a beatiful girlfriend, but I knew we were destined to go separate ways. All of my friends in Las Vegas were passer bys. My concept of happiness came in the forms of drugs and sex. If I had a goal, it was to have sex with as many women as possible.
Its hard to say whose life was better, them man in the dumpster, or me, drinking a beer watching him scavenge.
I suppose it doesn't really matter does it?
We both considered ourselves to be happy.
The difference between the two of us was he was honest about his nature.
I was drowning out my nature with drugs, alcohol and sex.

We entered the airport with 2 bags, one box, and a violin. The checked us in, but said I had to wait while they checked my baggage. I asked why me?
They said because I was SPECIAL.
I still don't know what that means. So, they asked me which bags were mine, and I said, I suppose all of them, but then I pointed to my Caesars bag and a taped up box. They went through it all. I told them I was confused about all of this airport security stuff, why we couldn't bring hair shampoo, underarm deorderant, toothpaste or any kind of gel. The guard referred me to a website.
Sonny asked, well, is it okay to bring Gum?
The guard said yes. Then I jokingly said doesn't C4 (plastic explosives) look like gum. About then the security guard told me if I said anything else, they would have me thrown in jail. At this point, I felt like my first amendment rights were being violated. I hadn't said anything that might cause harm to anyone, therefore, my speach should have been protected. I just kept quiet, however, I hate to be bullied and was very tempted to call my lawyer just to see if I was being victimized.
Sonny shot through the gates, after taking off his shoes.
I had to take off my shoes, and be frisked from top to bottom. They missed my exploding underwear, ha ha ha.
Is it just me, or did all of this sound silly?
I could have brought my laptop onboard. It could have been filled with liquid. BTW-They broke my camera.
A stupid little thing like a high wattage lazer pointer can bring down a 747, so, why play these games at airports.
I suppose what I'd like to say at this point is, the 9-11 terrorist succeeded in their goals.
It wasn't the destruction of the twin towers, it was the loss of our freedoms in the United States.
Our rights have been trampled and we've been set back decades in our fight for freedom.
The first trampling I got at the airport was my freedom of speech, which is protected by the Bill of Rights.

We used what little time we had to visit Presque Isle Park. It was a nice drive. There's the bay on one side and Lake Erie on the other side.
There was even a big monument to a guy name Perry (born August 23, 1785). Perry had entered the navy when he was 13 years old to work with his dad. He bopped around the world Europe and Africa, and at 20 he became lieutenant in command of a small schooner.
At 24, Thomas Jefferson gave Perry command of a gun vessel called the Revenge, which he wrecked. Anyway, he recieved a promotion to Master Commander.  Perry was the first in history to defeat an entire British squadron and successfully bring back every ship to his base as a prize of war. Perry, at the age of 28, was hailed by the public as a national hero for his victory on Lake Erie. He coined the phrase "We have met the enemy, and they are ours".
I mention this because at the age of 13, all I could think about was girls.
Its impressive that in those days, a father and son could work together without all of the connotations associated with promoting family members. I wish Dad had taught me something about brick laying. It would have saved me years of searching for a suitable profession.

We ate dinner. Sonny and I got Dads violin, and various other pictures and memorabilia, which, I will hold on to for life.
I hadn't seen a lot of these pictures, so I was in awe. Dad, as it turns out, wore my size clothes, so, now I've got a lot of classy clothes.
All in all, I cried about 3 or 4 times in private.
It will be sad not to hear him call me anymore.
I will miss him. That leaves Sonny, Kelly and Linda (if she's still alive).
The world is turning into a very lonely place.
Sometimes I hope my turn is next. I hate saying goodbye to the people I love.
I'm glad Dad surrounded himself with wonderful people. 
Everyone we met there was great!
Our conversations went from practical to wild, and there was a lot of laughter in between. I'm not sure thats the way Dad would have wanted it, but we had a lot of great things to say about him.
I'm going to miss his calls so much. *sniffle*sniffle*

Sonny and I tried to see some sites before the funeral. We went down to Lake Erie's Liberty Park...however, instead of going through the park, we climbed a steep hill across the road to get a bird side view. Unfortunately, there were a lot of red juicy berrys along the muddy climb. Half my face was covered with red dye. By the time we got down, we were late for the funeral, and my face and hair were bright red!!!
A lot of the pictures they had displayed were pictures I had taken.
I was really surprised about that. Everybody was very nice and very friendly. My eulogy was pretty much that Dad may have like believing in the far side of things, but, he left his mark in ways he never even counted. I mentioned the house he had built in Paducah, Kentucky. He got the design from a magazine cover. I guess you'd call it a Southern mansion, but on a smaller scale. Keep in mind, when he built it in the 70's, the houses in the neighborhood were wooden shacks. Today, for an area that covers at least 3 square miles, there are houses that all duplicate his design. His was the first and I'm sure it set the pace. Dad....it seemed...made his mark on the world.
Afterwards, we all ate at a really nice restaurant and as usually.
Aunt Tass paid for it all and I feel really guilty about that. I don't know how my conscience will deal with the fact that I already owe her so much. My carma insist I keep an even slate with very one.

Our plane was an exciting turbo prop. It was extremely cramped. I had a terrible time breathing. The interesting thing about this flight was unboarding the flight. We actually got to walk on the runway.
Inside, we got our rental car, some kind of Chrysler convertable. It was zippy and responsive.
Navigating around Erie was another story though. The streets change names just like in Las Vegas.
Where Dad lived (New Perry Highway), does not officially exist on any map. We got lost, a lot!
We arrived at Dad's house, finally, after a bunch of UTurns.
Honestly, by the time we go there, we were too burned out to look through his things.
The car, they said could be ready to drive back in two days, but by then, it was too late. We'd already spent a fortune on round trip tickets...the moment had passed. On the other hand, the car was a tank. It would have cost $1,000 to drive it back to Vegas. Plus, it would have taken day to get there.
Judy, by far, was my favorite person there though. She could make you laugh at the world exploding. Everybody there was great!!!
Tass, unfortunately, was paying for the whole shabang, that is, except for us. She offered, but, we just have too much pride to start excepting help now. We've been self sufficient for decades. But, she's a real sweatheart for offering.

Louis, (my dad), was an professional violist, and an accomplished brick mason for most of his life.
He is survived by his wife - Lottie, two sons - Louis and James, two daughters - Linda and Kathren, grandsons - Eric, Daniel, and granddaughters - Jessica, Grace.
Condolences at bruggerfuneralhomes.com. Sign the guestbook at www.GoErie.com/obits.
Published in the Erie Times-News on 9/7/2006.
Please sign the Guest Book

Its 1023 pm.I approached the littler trailer in the dark.  Right now, I have a flashlight in my mouth, and yes, I am  in a state of drunkeness but I still have 1 and a half damn beers to my imbibage. I checked the first row of outlets on the the trailer to which in a prevous time I had chatted mundanely with a man who had worked for thie outfit way too many years and who was only trying to say that on THAT day they guys in the trux were letting out some slough , into the river.  ... by which I pitched my stay under the radar of the upwardly immobile dogs of attitude and authoritay beneath a series of hwyz overpassing.
  The first box was blackened and I figured that juicegez would not be quarried there.  But the second of the 5, like a bingo.  I was on the backside of the temporal workmans office by the railroad trax, and my bicycle did prove worthy of enough aptitude to allow my a moment of balance to get this laptop to the ruf wjile charging and to my delight logging on.  But to actually get to the roof of the structure with myself  where I might better sink a feathrr into the faithhaveneast wifi signal? I would have to append the front of the strukture.  So I did attempt and twice did I attempt. At first I had no notion of the peculiar physical unrestraints set up of the  stairwell that graced the front of this trailer ,,, so in the 1st up in a minute I  begAN with a footing that sent me and the construction, westwardly and to the ground accompanying a frightening unwanted entire throe.  Nuffsaid I finished a severe yet enlightened 'oh shit' and crawled up again to  aright the stairwell with a hearth of blue ribbon impulse. .. back to near abouts the door it was saddled up to originally. and then I began what was to be  a very simple access to this roof I now sit at with a nearly inhessitant singular motion  aND ease.  and yes the signal is better.  and I still have 1 beer left but no one to share this moment with. crap.  Shivering, winded and without a noble immediate futere I now am possessed with a sped away itinerary of mind that this is none much more than just sitting drunk in the wind on a roof.
Now to get down again...

Earlier, we went car shopping for the heck of it. These car lot owner/dealers crack me up!!!
"Yea, those Porsches, Mazdas, Toyotas, and Hondas are a death trap" this one dealer said while smoking a cigarette.
"You should spend $7,000 on this safe Mercedes that gets 8 miles to the gallon and has 180,000 miles on it."
I told him "If we did, and I only drove it 1,000 miles, it would have cost us $10 a mile to drive it, and we could rent a limo for for that price."

Labor hard Jimmy....

You got $200 cash and someone's paycheck? And if you have their paycheck, what is the story? They signed it over to you (third party)?

Any news on the Tampa front with John Winn?

Doesn't surprise me. Rents going up at lease renewal time is nothing new. And Camden is just following industry standard procedure. If real estate trends were not upping the price of real estate in the Lost Wages area (it was remaining stagnent or it was going down), I wouldn't necessarily surprised if rents remained flatter. Question is: What was it before it went up to $905? If it was $885, would that be all that bad? Gee, I don't remember paying for water when I was in (what is now a Camden) property on Torrey Pines in SW end of town back in 1997 (MGM days). I'd be willing to bet that the $150 is a misunderstanding. I was told, with no uncertainy, that I would not have to pay any fees to renew the lease on this 2 bdrm, or on moving to the 1 bdrm. It is apparently a one time thing. At least, if you don't move out and want to come back.

Call it "Squirty's Mobile Notary". Whoops, that doesn't do it for you? How about "Mike's Notary"? Still no.. Well, then go with a S-Corp as in "S" for Squirt. Great way to make business decisions, isn't it. 

Sounds good. Kinda like Jeffwee's "Pubelicks Market". Right? I'd still think doing it right, as some sort of corporation is best. That is, if any of this is going to lead Rebecky to have assests, but if so, then you gotta do corp. Take a little extra time now and do it right. How about your old CPA?

We went to Lowes to pick up a replacement doggie door. Found one.
The cashier we went too was on the phone. We stood there.
She got off and I said "Didn't your mom tell you to stay off the phone when you have company".
She said "NO, and my father was a drunk, so if he said it he mumbled".
I said, "Your mother did too tell you that! I know she did! Call her right now!!!"
She said, "But if I did that, I'd be on the phone when I have company".
THEN, we went to Smiths. Becky got some sour cream and chive crackers.
The clerk said "I love those", and showed us a variety box of crackers that he eaten all all the sour creams out of.
I told him, "Yea, Becky loves to eat them as she sits around on the couch all day watching soap opera's".
The bagger said, "OMG-I love those".
I said, "Wow-You mean Days of Our Stupid Lives and As The Stomach Churns".
Now, I didn't think that was all that funny, but three checkers started laughing.
What do you do when you tell a bad joke and people are laughing.
I just stood there with a stupid (unavoidable) grin on my face.

Yesterday, I took 2 Porsche 914's out for a test drive.
These cars offer a wonderful road experience.
They're capable of going 150mph, and get 33mpg.
They're a dream venture between Volkswagen and Porsche, and I believe in the next couple of years,
That they were the cars of the future.
One was a '74 Porsche 914 1.8 ltr.
It was at a car lot.
I could have taken it out the door for $2,500. It looked like it was in excellent shape.
The salesman was reluctant to let me take it anywhere further than around the block.
I didn't even get it into 3rd gear. The steering was hard, the shocks were mushy, the transmission ground a lot.
When we came back, I talked to the manager. He insisted we take it out for a longer test drive.
This time, I got it in to 3rd, and I'd figured I'd seen enough.
The next one was across town. It was advertised on EBay, as in good condition.
The pictures on EBay looked pretty good, but they skipped all of the can spray painted areas that were more than obvious.
The rubber seals on all the windows were shot.
I took it for a test drive, and through the first mile, something was clanging around until it fell off.
It was beautiful ride though...It drove like magic!
However, the generator light kept coming on, the blinkers and break lights didn't work, the left headlight didn't pop up, the stereo didn't work, the door handles didn't work. Not much worked on it.
He had the windshield wipers off for some unknown reason.
When I got back to the owner's house and started to back up, the engine died.
It wouldn't start again for another 30 minutes. The gas pedal fell off while he was trying to start it.
During this time, I the owner talked about all of the things he was going to fix in the car.
He said he was a helicopter mechanic and knew electrical systems. That's just plain scary!!!
Now, why, why, why, do people, when they sell a car, turn into complete liars and assholes?
I just don't get it.
If I knew honestly what was wrong with the car, I could make an honest bid.
Now some poor guy in California is going to win the bid on EBay, come all the way out here, just to find out the seller was lying about almost everything, and all of that time, money and effort will have all been for nothing.

Damn, I am one cute doggy....

When I'm hungover I hear voices. I like them.
Anymore, I'd rather be hungover than drunk...now ain't that a kick in the head.
These voices sound like a TV that has its volume to low to make out whats being said.
They seems to be mumblings, like the sound of people talking in a cafeteria.
I assume they are generated by my subconscious and therefore I can control them.
If I listen closely, I can hear them when its dead quiet in the middle of the night.
Its like those dancing lights that we all see, that a few notice, and even fewer talk about then.
I was researching the euphoria epileptics have before having a seizure.
Overwhelmingly, many of them have this auditory hallucination.
From what I've read about them, they are exactly like I just described my voices.
What do you call it, when a group of people have the same hallucination?
I've always said, I'll believe in ghosts if I see one. I would love to see a ghost. Are these ghosts?
It would be nice to see something of a supernatural nature before I become a ghost.