2014 in review

Posted: January 5, 2015 in Getting FREE Stuff

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 8,800 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.


Here’s a List of 8 Phobias that have to do with Numbers

Learn how to deal with confussion

Do you have a phobia?

What exactly is a phobia?

Medical experts define phobias as a fear based on a “conditioned emotional experience”. A traumatic experience is most likely the cause of developing a phobia. Most times, something happened that has caused a tremendous amount of fear to someone when they were young and then developed into a phobia into adulthood.

However, some also believe that phobias may have been caused by biological evolution.

  • For an example, an individual develops a natural fear to things such as spiders, snakes, falling, &c.

It’s also possible that some phobias can develop from another existing phobia.

  • For example, a little boy buys a balloon and walks across the street without paying attention and almost gets hit by a car causing him to lose his balloon. This boy may have developed a phobia to balloons, then developing a fear of things that fly. The next thing that develops is a phobia of automobiles and all transportation vehicles. This boy could also develop a fear of people selling balloons as well.

Phobia #1

Fear of Numbers

Numerophobia

There are people out there who are afraid of a lot of little things. From mice to rats, dogs and cats, falling, flying, heights, &c. The list is long and has plenty of room for new phobias. But the fear of numbers? Now that’s a bit odd – don’t you think?

Numerophobia is the extreme and irrational fear of numbers. It’s a rare occurrence when a sufferer of numerophobia will run from a group of numbers, but most rather just look away. The fear is that they will start adding the numbers together in different various ways and won’t be able to stop until every possible equation has been solved.

Numerophobia: The Fear of Numbers

Numerophobia: The Fear of Numbers

Numerophobia is also known as Arithmophobia. However, those who suffer from Arithmophobia fear specifically arithmetic. They are able to look at numbers however, if the numbers are arranged in a way where it looks as if it is an arithmetic problem, severe anxiety may start to develop. 

Phobia #2

Fear of the Number Four

Tetraphobia

elevator-four

Tetraphobia: Fear of the Number Four

Thought to have originated in the East long, long ago. The fear of the number four is respected by all classes. The number four sounds much like the word that means ‘death’. For fear that the number four may bring misfortune, a lot of high rise buildings has excluded the number four to appear on elevator buttons and floor descriptions.

Building designers have purposely left out the number four, or have replaced the number with the letter ‘F’.

  • An interesting article written by Koichi about Tetraphobia can be read by clicking here.

Phobia #3

Fear of the Number Five

Quintaphobia

The fear of the number five was not thought to be a phobia by many people. It wasn’t until after more & more cases started to surface that Quintaphobia finally joined the ‘unofficial’ Phobia List. It just seemed odd that the number five could bring such an extreme fear to some people. Fact is, nobody really knows ALL there is to know about phobias. Why are some people completely terrified over such seemingly harmless things…? or inanimate objects such as clouds, horseshoes or garden hoses?

If you’re wondering, there’s no phobia name for the fear of the number six. However, there is a name for fear of the number 666 and it is called hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia.

Numerophobia is the extreme and irrational fear of numbers.

 Phobia #4

Fear of the Number Seven

Septaphobia

Septaphobia is another odd phobia. Most people consider the number seven as a very lucky number, but there are people who have an extreme and sometimes an irrational fear of the number.

Having a fear of such things as “numbers” is strangely odd. They’re unlike any other phobias, since phobias are mostly an extreme and irrational fear of ‘things’ & ‘situations’, but are treated the same as other phobias with therapy and facing the fear.

 Phobia #5

Fear of the Number Eight

Anything that represents a figure eight can set an Octophobiac off.

Anything that represents a figure eight can set an Octophobiac off.

Octophobia

Octophobics not only fear the number eight, they also fear the figure eight. The figure eight doesn’t have to represent a number in order for someone who suffers from Octophobia to start feeling anxious. Seeing somebody twirl their finger in a figure eight pattern, or watching someone or something move in a figure eight pattern can set things off with an Octophobiac.

 Phobia #6

Fear of the Number Nine

Neunophobia(?)

There isn’t a name for every little fear (or major fear, for that matter) that’s out there, but when a certain disorder becomes more & more common, experts will put a name for that disorder in order for other professionals to know what specific fear/phobia they are dealing with. Fear of the number nine isn’t popular enough to be considered a phobia, but it is suggested that it may come from Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia (fear of the number 666).

Almost all cases of people who are fearful of the number nine are also fearful of the number 666. So experts just labeled these people as Hexakosioihexekekontahesaphobiacs. However, there are those very, VERY few who just fear the number nine – that’s it. So few, that no name is given to this extremely rare phobia.

I suggest Neunophobia, simply because “neun” means “nine” in German.

 Phobia #7

Fear of the Number Thirteen

Triskaidekaphobi

Triskaidekaphobia: The Fear of the Number Thirteen

Triskaidekaphobia: The Fear of the Number Thirteen

There’s no doubt that the number thirteen may make some people uneasy. Almost EVERYBODY knows that the number thirteen represents ‘bad luck’. If you personally do consider the number thirteen bad luck, but don’t fear the number, you’re like most. Then again, even if you do consider thirteen as a bad luck number and you make a fuss about it, you still may not have a phobia. It’s when you develop an extreme and irrational fear about the the number thirteen is when you can diagnois yourself as having Triskaidekaphobia.

Why “13” is Unlucky

There are many reasons why we consider the number thirteen to be unlucky. Here are just a few:

1. It takes thirteen witches to make a perfect coven.
2. The murders of the Knights Templar were planned and executed on October 13, 1307
3. In a “Man’s World” the number 13 is considered a “girly” number so that alone makes it unlucky
4. During the Last Supper there were 13 in attendance, Judas (the 13th guest) was the first to rise and the first to die

 Phobia #8

Fear of the Number Twenty-Three

The ’23’ Enigma

The Number 23 (2007)

Fear of the number twenty-three does NOT have a phobia name but there are people that fear it…kinda weird. It’s called the “The ’23’ Enigma” instead. Sounds more like a movie, but…wait.

There is a movie about “The ’23’ Enigma”, it’s called (no surprise) 23 starring Jim Carey.

The ’23’ Enigma means that people believe that most things and events can be traced back to the number 23.

The Number 23 (2007)

Amazon Price: $2.99

This story is the second part of another story that happened to me.

Well, I did it…I ran myself over!

It finally happened

I worked a late night. I drove to the boss’s house because I was going to ride to the job-site with him. He moved his van from his back alley parking spot and I parked in (backwards) in his place. It was around 9 pm.

After three and a half hours at the job site, we ran out of material and had to wrap things up. My boss drove me back to his house and dropped me off. We said our good-byes and I closed his door. I walked over to my van and I crawled underneath it to start it.PEACE

Remember…? I have to start my van underneath it.
And yes, I haven’t gotten around to fixing that ignition problem.

I grabbed the tool that starts the van and was feeling around underneath the van with it. It being dark out, I was having a difficult time trying to locate the starter. I scooted a little further underneath the van thinking it would help me find it…and I did.

At first, the van didn’t start right up. I had to do it again. The van finally started and began to accelerate slowly in reverse. I was still underneath the van.

Quickly I tried to get away, but the right front tire pinched the material of my coat, trapping my arm in place. My upper arm was trapped underneath the tire of my moving van. It was obvious that the van was in reverse. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

I couldn’t sit up, I desperately grabbed for the slowly rolling tire that was gradually crushing my bicep. The pressure was immense. I thought that my arm was going to explode. All I could think about was having to amputate my arm. My face was inches away from my vans front tire. I watched as the wheel slowly rolled over my arm. All I could do was lay there.

When the van rolled over my arm I watched as the van back over my boss’s privacy fence. It continued to roll into the backyard and came to a stop when it crashed into a tree.

My boss jumped out of his van and ran over to help me up.

“Are you okay?” my boss asked in disbelief. “Did your van run over you?”

“Yeah…my arm.”My Arm

“Oh my God! Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No, no, I’m alright, really,” I said. “Sorry about the fence.”

“Forget the fence, how are you? Where did it get you?” he asked as he looked me over to see if I was okay.

“My arm. The van rolled over my arm,” I told him as I lifted it. It was weird that it didn’t hurt like you’d think it would. I mean, it was sore but strangely enough it didn’t bruise.


Totally True, but Extremely Exaggerated Tales:
Clowns in the Woods

by James Timothy Peters

I have never spoke of this – until now.

It was an unusually warm morning in late November back in 1982. I know this because I remember wearing all camouflage as I rode my bike to the Cook County Forest Preserve located in Calumet City, Illinois. The forest was only a few blocks from my house; straight down State Line Road.

I’ve played in these woods for as long as I can remember. It never got old, even by myself I was able to occupy myself. Building tree swings, forts and even traps kept me busy for hours on end.

State Line Road separated Illinois and Indiana

State Line Road separates Illinois and Indiana

As I rode up onto the trail from State Line Road I looked for a spot where I could stash and hide my bike. The high grass and tall brush made it easy to conceal.

I had school the next day, so I better get as much in as possible.
Whatever that may have been was yet to be determined but I had all day to think about it.

However, I didn’t get to think that much about what I was going to do, because the oddest thing happened.

I saw three men walking about through the woods. The big guy was dressed in overalls without a shirt, the small skinny guy was dressed in black and wearing a hoodie. The third guy, and obviously the leader , was dressed in an arm-less suit. His arms were muscular and he carried a suitcase…but that’s not the odd part.

The odd part was that they all had clown heads.

Just having the head of a clown without the whole attire looks a little disturbing – to say the least.

I noticed three men dressed as clowns walking through the Cook County Forest Preserve in Calumet City, IL

I noticed three men dressed as clowns walking through the Cook County Forest Preserve in Calumet City, IL

This was so strange to me and yet, very scary at the same time. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Luckily, none of the three noticed me.

But then I saw a small boy. He wasn’t anybody that I knew, he couldn’t have been any older than me. Then I saw that the guy with the suitcase was holding his hand and leading him down the trail.

The small boy looked scared and very uncomfortable and was slowly followed by the other two men dressed as clowns. I could hear the guy with the suitcase talking to the little boy as he sternly looked forward, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

I wondered what they were doing with this little boy. Just before they walked out from my view, the little boy and I noticed each other. I have to admit that it did startle me at first and I thought about running away; but decided to stay where I was instead. I feared that the little boy would say something and give me away…but he didn’t.

He looked at me as if he hoped that I would say something…but I didn’t.

Honestly, I was scared. I was scared that these men(?) would do to me what they were going to do to that little boy.

I gave it a few minutes before I decided to crawl out of hiding and quietly drag my bike from the tangled weeds. As I slowly crept to the forest trail, I cautiously peeked out from a bush to see how far down the clowns were with the little boy.

I could see them.
They were way down the forest trail.
I didn’t think I’d get a better opportunity for an escape, so I  jumped on my bike as fast as I could and rode out of there as fast as my legs could pedal.

I don’t know why, but something told me to turn around to see what they were doing.
When I did, it looked as though I brought attention to myself, because all I remember is seeing that hooded clown looking straight back at me causing me to wreck.

And let me tell you…when I noticed that hooded clown taking a few steps towards my direction, I swear, I’ve never gotten up and jumped on a bike so fast in my life – not like I did that day.

I've never spoke of this until now.

I’ve never spoke of these clowns in the woods until now

I took off. I didn’t stop pedaling like a maniac down State Line Road until I got to my block – good old Detroit Street in Hammond, Indiana. Well, that’s what I remember anyway.

I parked my bike in the garage and made sure I wasn’t followed. When I felt that the coast was clear I darted out for the house. When I got through the back door I quickly slammed the door shut. My heart rate was just starting to come down.

I stayed in the house for the rest of the day. I thought about what I saw and wondered if I should say something, but I never did.

I thought about all the next day as well, especially at school. Debating in my head, whether or not if I should tell someone, but again…I never did.

It really bothered me that day at school. I guess I seemed distant to my friends because some would come up and asked me if  “everything was okay?”

I told them that I just wasn’t feeling well and that I’d be fine. But the truth was that I really wasn’t feeling well. The sense of guilt consumed me.

I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I didn’t speak up for that little boy or said anything to anybody.

I never found out what happened to that kid and nobody ever spoke of it – nobody said a word. Nothing on the news or the newspapers. It was like it never happened.

But it did.
I was there.

But now I can’t help but wonder…what if?

I have never spoke of this – until now.

Aside  —  Posted: December 1, 2013 in True to Life
Tags: , , ,


The First of the MALTernatives

Beer is NOT suppose to be clear

…is it?

Zima01

Zima
1993 – 2008

You remember Zima…don’t you?

Here’s what I remember about Zima

It was the end of summer of 1994 when I first tried the alcoholic malt beer beverage known as Zima. It came out about a year earlier, but I had no desire to try it.

I know why too.
(I usually try new things at least once)

But the main reason I didn’t like Zima (without trying it) was because it was pretty much labeled a “girly-man” beer by every dude I came across. Whether they tried it or not (mostly NOT), I was told that it was considered a “woman’s beverage” – like a wine cooler.

Trust me – Zima was NO wine cooler.

I was 23-years-old when I bought my first six-pack of Zima…
curiosity got the best of me.  But for the record, I also bought a case of Old Milwaukee.
That’s right, Old Milwaukee – The Best Beer in the World.

I can honestly say that I thought that Zima wasn’t bad. It was zomething different (get it?)…I’ll give it that. It sure didn’t taste what I expected. It sort of reminded me of a flat Sprite, but beer…?

It didn’t taste anything like beer at all.

(become a FAN on my FACEBOOK FAN PAGE)
The Story on Zima

In 1993, the Coors Brewing company came up with a different way to brew beer. It had something to do with “charcoal filtering”, in which doing so removed that golden hue and MOST of that “beer taste“. Rumors went around that Zima didn’t contain alcohol and that breath analyzers couldn’t detect it.
These rumors were false.

This also started the “clear craze”. Miller came out with “Qube“,  Pabst Blue Ribbon’s “Izen Klar“, Stroh’s “Clash“, and even Pepsi came out with “Crystal Pepsi“. It even hit the deodorant department with a clear gel by Mennen.

Zima soon became popular among females, so that made it even more “untouchable” among those who considered themselves manly. Being male and seen holding a Zima wasn’t “macho“, in fact, it was reason enough to get ridiculed even by the closest of friends (even if it was under their breath and/or behind your back). Zima had no place in a “real man’s” fridge.

It became obvious that Zima was being considered a wine cooler, although it was not intended to be as such. In fact, Coors made sure that any business selling Zima was to keep it away from the other wine coolers.

Although Coors sold over one million barrels in its first year, after two years, they barely sold over 400,000 barrels. Being that females seem to be the only buyer of the clear malt beverage, it just wasn’t enough. It’s been reported that Coors spent anywhere from $35 million to $50 million in advertisements alone in its first year (more than their MAIN product, “Coors Light“) targeting young men.

Then came Smirnoff Ice.

Smirnoff Ice” soon hit the shelves and it soon got the impression that it contained vodka (which it didn’t) and this was about the time that Coors decided to boost the alcohol content in Zima to 5.4% and give it a golden hue – calling it “Zima Gold“. It tasted like a flat Sprite (a bit sweeter) but with a bourbon hint of flavor. It was all they had to give “Smirnoff Ice” a challenge.

It didn’t work.

Now Miller had finally pulled their “Qube” off the shelves as well did Pabst’s and Stroh’s, but Coors still had some ideas brewing in their heads and gave Zima another chance. So in the year 2000, they totally changed their formula, making it taste more like Sprite (but not quite), and also came up with a new ad campaign. They made Zima seem like the ideal beverage for really, REALLY hot days. It bounced back briefly, but just shy of a quarter of million barrels. Coors Light sold over 16 million barrels that same year.

But wait…Zima had another idea.
They made a variety of flavors – pineapple being the favorite.
They boosted the alcohol content in another brand of Zima to 5.9% and called it “Zima XXX” in the year 2004.

This didn’t work either.

By this time Miller and Coors merged together forming the MillerCoors, LLC and on October 10, 2008, they announced the discontinuation of distributing Zima in the United States. Because of its expensive process to brew Zima, along with the tax hike in Utah and in California (and California being the top marketing state) it didn’t make sense to continue on with the product.

That’s right…discontinued distribution of Zima in the United States.
Zima can still be purchased in Japan.


What is it?

What does it mean?

Posted near Randolph Street

Posted near Randolph Street

With a camera in hand and an hour to kill, I noticed this sticker posted on a lamp post. It looked cool; with the hash-tag(#) in front of the word RILLA; spelled out in lower case letters. The hash-tag in front of the word RILLA instantly made me think of Twitter. It was obvious an advertisement for “something” and they were going through a social network.

Cool.
I do that too.

So I took a picture – trying to be all “artsy”…
…I have to admit it didn’t turn out that bad.
I like it.

But what is RILLA? I have to know.

The Search Starts with Twitter

Tweeting into the Unknown
This is what I Tweeted

Walking around #Chicago and I noticed this sticker… #rilla
Thought I’d post it on Twitter and see what happens.
pic.twitter.com/M7tsTB33X5

At first it was quiet. I didn’t get a response right away, so I furthered my investigations onto YouTube.

The first video I watched that was associated with the word RILLA was a 2:45 video (rap) with an awesome piano riff. It was posted about 6 months ago and with the condition of the sticker on the lamppost – this could be a match…but I shall continue on.

Thumbnail 2:45Watch Later

RILLA – AINT NUTTIN NEW

  • by OFFTHISEARTH365
  • 1,212 views (at this time)

After watching the video and giving it a THUMBS UP, I went back to the #rilla tweet on Twitter to check things out.


everybody aint yo friend #Rilla

You would think that this would be a hostile remark. However, after watching the video on YouTube (RILLA – AINT NUTTIN NEW) this is somewhat what the song is about.

So far, I feel this strengthens my case that this RILLA sticker was intended for them.

But there’s MORE on RILLA on YouTube, to make sure my conclusion is correct I continued on. The next RILLA I got from YouTube was this 4:45 video (rap) that was obviously filmed by a buddy of his and was posted 2 months ago.

Cool song though.

Thumbnail Watch Later

Rilla – No Limit (Prod by So Sick) [Official Video]

  • by emkid626
  • 153 views (at this time)

After watching this video I went back to Twitter to see if anything else came up.

everybody claim they real but obviously not cus everybody falling out wit eachother #Rilla

depending on ppl will only lead to disappointments #Rilla

if you got a girl that’s riding for you & she loyal then keep her 💯 #Rilla factssss

INTERESTING

It seems RILLA is trying to spread “a word” of some sort…sounds to me a lot like LOYALTY. Like the three responses above:

  • “everybody claim they real but obviously not cus everybody falling out wit eachother”
    TRANSLATION: Just because people claim to be your friend, doesn’t mean they are
  • “depending on ppl will only lead to disappointments”
    TRANSLATION: You can’t depend on anybody
  • “if you got a girl that’s riding for you & she loyal then keep her”
    TRANSLATION: If your woman loves you, treat her right

Almost like I said in a Facebook post not to long ago….remember?

Loyalty

Very interesting indeed.
It’s like as if that RILLA sticker was talking to me…directly to me.

After certain incidences that have occurred to me in the past (those who know me KNOW what they are), it seems RILLA might be on to something.

But wait…
…there are other RILLAS on YouTube
  1. Rilla – Gone (Beat by Chris Calor)

  2. Rilla – Faded (The Prodigy)

  3. Rilla [H.L.]

MY CONCLUSION

Because of the baseball hat in the RILLA sticker

I’m guessing it’s these guys…

Thumbnail can anyone prove me wrong?

So all in all, it’s simple.

RILLA to me means this:

It's time to grow up.

A Nice Place to Visit…

…but I wouldn’t want to live there!

To_Chicago-SignIn the afternoon of September 29th, I decided to take a trip to Chicago. I called a few friends at the last moment to see if anyone would care to join me, but being a last minute decision, my invitations were declined. It’s not like anybody wanted to go with me…it was just too soon.

So, a solo adventure it will have to be.

A round-trip ticket only cost me $10.50 – not bad. I planned on taking the train all the way to Millennium Station (the last stop); stroll around & take a few snap shots; get a little writing done; get something to eat; then head home.

A Simple Sunday

Last Minute Decision

It’s Sunday…I’m bored.

The Hammond South-Shore Station in Hammond, IN

The Hammond South-Shore Station in Hammond, IN

Not really getting into the football frenzy like MOST everybody else I know this year.
In fact, one of the reasons my invitations were mostly rejected were because they already had planned on watching the Chicago Bears play against the Detroit Lions.

It was an away game so I figured that’d be one less thing to worry about. I mean, traffic and the sidewalks were still packed as usual, but it could have been worse.

Bears fans…whatever.

I’m an Indianapolis Colts fan and I like the Bears, but hey…I live in Indiana. As far as I’m concerned, I’m on the right wagon.

Traveling by South Shore
The Westbound 1:57 stop at the South Shore Station in Hammond, Indiana

The Westbound 1:57 stop at the South Shore Station in Hammond, Indiana

If you have never ridden the South Shore you have got to make plans to do so.

Taking trips to the Field Museum, the Museum of Science & Industry, the Shedd Aquarium, &c. is the ONLY way to travel to and from Chicago, Illinois.

“Yeah, but I’d rather drive.”

Shame on you.

Out-of-shape assholes. You’d rather add to the congestion and mayhem (not to mention the emissions from your car) than use public transportation?

I know, I know…there are weirdos that use public transportation.
I’ve run into a few myself, but still…it’s somewhat funny, most of the time – afterwards, that is.

While waiting in the Hammond South Shore train terminal I noticed there were other people waiting as well. I found it odd because it was only about 12:30 in the afternoon and the next train isn’t until 1:57 pm. And I thought I was an early bird. I sat at the very end of the wooden bench against the south wall of the terminal. I chose to sit there because it was next to an outlet. This came in handy because I needed to charge both my cell phone and my laptop. I plugged both my phone and laptop and and wrote a few notes.

A transit police officer walked in to check things out. He checked to see if the bathrooms were locked and that nobody was living in there. After awhile, I took some photos with a Canon PowerShot Elph 330 Hs and a fresh memory card, unknowingly leaving my cell phone behind (accidently) on the wooden bench, against the south wall right next to the outlet. I took the charger; I just forgot the phone.

Luckily, after I realized what I have done (5 mins later), I ran back to the terminal to find my phone laying there on the wooden bench, against the south wall next to the outlet.

Traveling solo you won’t have much trouble finding a seat.  Unlike if you were with someone or even a group of people, chances are you’re not going to be able to sit together. Fewer the people, better the chances. That is, of course, when you’re traveling solo and everybody has got their parcels (whether it’s a backpack, purse, or shopping bag) on the seat next to them.
I hate that.

The seating on a South Shore train. This particular passenger train had extra seats installed.

The seating on a South Shore train. This particular passenger train had extra seats installed.

I walk from train car to train car; opening and closing those heavy metal sliding doors that separate the passenger train cars from one another. There’s a lot of solo travelers, but they’re taking up two seats. Some people even have the nerve to lay down – wtf?
So train car to train car I continue on, trying to find a seat until at last!

I found a seat.
I placed my backpack on the seat next to me.

Oh well.

If you can’t beat’em, then join’em.

Arriving at the Millennium Station

FINAL STOP - The South Shore Millennium Station - Chicago, Illinois

FINAL STOP – The South Shore Millennium Station – Chicago, Illinois

It’s not like I’ve never been to the “city” before, I’ve been here plenty of times for lots of different reasons.
But this time…?

This time I’m going to try and look at it from an artistic point-of-view.

As I boarded off the passenger car of a South Shore train my memory kicked in. I remembered right away about the long walk if you happened to be riding in the last car. The platform for the South Shore train station reminds me of a movie set off of “Batman”. Yeah, it’s pretty cool.

Walking through the terminal I passed a Church’s Chicken restaurant and a Starbucks, there was even an area where you could do your banking (if you were a member of that particular bank), but there were plenty of Automatic Teller Machines just in case you weren’t.

Graham Crackers Comic Book Store - 77 E. Madison - Chicago, IL - 312.629.1810

Graham Crackers Comic Book Store – 77 E. Madison – Chicago, IL – 312.629.1810

As I stepped onto Randolph Street, I turned right and headed for Millennium Park. There was some kind of fest going on, so instead of crossing Michigan Avenue, I made another right and headed for Madison Street. I’m not sure what this event was for, but it was pretty much packed with pedestrians and patrolman. I occasionally looked to my left to see if I could see anything going on; some kind of clue that would tip me off, but frankly, I didn’t care.

However, all I could see was that GIANT chrome bean. I eventually went there, but if you want to see those pictures you have to go to my Facebook Fan Page.

Daredevil Comic Books

Daredevil Comic Books

I noticed Graham Crackers Comic Book Store and gave them a try.

I’m a huge DAREDEVIL fan (in case you didn’t know). Of all the superheros there are out there, DAREDEVIL is my favorite.

Hey, I know he’s blind, but all his other extra senses are super enhanced – plus he’s a lawyer by day (ka-ching)!

And I know he got beat up by a girl (Elektra).
Big deal, he’s blind.
He still put up a great fight! The total cost of the collection I bought to the right cost less than $20.00.
Not bad…I’m okay with that.

Now I’m Getting Thirsty
002RBAG

Rudy’s Bar and Grille – 69 E. Madison – Chicago, IL

After spending an hour or two at Graham Crackers Comic Books I developed a thirst. I needed something nutritious but has plenty of alcohol…BLOODY MARY’S! Perfect. As I stepped out, I noticed the sun going down and checked out the time…almost 6:30 pm. Not that it was getting darker, the shadows have shifted making it feel later than it actually was. It got a bit cooler, but I brought along “Old Grey” to keep me warm. This also means I missed my 6:22 pm train home.

Guess I’m stuck here until the next one…that’s not until 9:15 pm.
Perfect.

INSIDE INFO: “Old Grey” is a grey, long sleeved, button down sweater, with semi wide black stripes going down, made from the same material as a “baja hoodie”.

Chicago After Dark

Chicago After Dark

Getting Hungry – Again

FAMOUS STUFFED PIZZA - FRESH ITALIAN

FAMOUS STUFFED PIZZA – FRESH ITALIAN

I couldn’t help it.
I had a buzz, I was alone, and I had to make sure I made the 9:15 pm South Shore train back to Hammond, because the next one didn’t leave until 11:15 pm; then 12:45 am after that.

There’s noway I’m going to miss this train.

I was lucky to be able to get a seat at Giardano’s, it was packed.

If you like to no more about Giordano’s you need to check my Yelp Account.

The Most Unfortunate Incident

Chicago-Homeless_Sign

When I returned back to the place where I thought I left my cell phone, it was gone.
So was the homeless person sitting near me.

The most unfortunate thing happened to me.

I lost my cell phone.  That’s right…my cell phone.

It’s already taken care of, I have the same number and as a matter of fact, I have the exact same phone I had originally lost (only this one is in better condition).

I lucked out BIG TIME!
Thank you LEEZA’S SHOP, you were a big help!

When I realized I left my phone behind – I started to have an anxiety attack.  I knew right where I left it; on the steps next to a homeless person.

She was a young black woman that just sat next to to a dingy public ashtray asking for hand-outs, I ignored her and continued to text to make sure I had a ride waiting for me at the Hammond South Shore Train Terminal. As I went through my backpack, I placed my cell phone down on the steps and went through my backpack with both hands.

I got up and headed for the train – I left the cell phone behind.
DAMN!

Oh well…all I can do is hope that my ride is there at the Hammond South Shore Terminal.

And of course – she was!


Have you really thought about it? Sheriff Will Teasle or John J. Rambo…who’s the real villain?

Is Sheriff Will Teasle really a Villain?

Think about it for a minute.
Here’s a guy about in his mid-upper 50’s who has obviously built a successful career as sheriff in Hope, Washington – USA.  It’s a quiet little town & according to Sheriff Teasle it’s downright boring – and he gets paid to keep it that way.

Sheriff Teasle notices a man walking down the towns highway and decides to check it out.
Nothing wrong with that, he’s doing his job.  Teasle rolls up and greets the man with a “Good morning”, the man reluctantly nods back.  Teasle then asks the man if he’s visiting someone in town.  The man says “No”.

Now this is where some people say things start to brew.

Teasle then points out that the type of coat he was wearing (military issued) with an American flag sewn over the right chest pocket & looking the way he did (long hair, unshaven) was asking for trouble.  Sheriff Teasle didn’t say that HE had a problem with it, just that other people might.

If people in Hope, Washington have a problem with ANYBODY wearing an Army coat with an American flag sewn on it, that sounds to me like they have an issue with their country.  But hey, Sheriff Teasle is obviously aware that Hope, Washington has got their share of anti-Americans and he just wants to make sure that this stranger travels through safely.  He even offers to drive the man to the towns border.  What a nice guy.

The man told Sheriff Teasle that he was headed North, but then later told Teasle that he was headed for Portland, Oregon – which is South.

Is Sheriff Teasle suspicious?  He doesn’t seem to be.
He seems to be giving the guy the benefit of the doubt.

During the car ride, the stranger asks if there’s someplace where he could get something to eat.  Sheriff Teasle suggests a diner that’s approximately 30 miles up the highway.

The man then asks the sheriff if there was a law that prohibited him from getting something to eat in town…

Sheriff Teasle informs him that there was.

 

Shit goes South for Sheriff Teasle

When Teasle drops the man off at the towns border he offers the man a bit of advice.  He tells him that if he got a haircut and took a bath people wouldn’t hassle him so much.

That sounds like good advice.
I
n fact, Sheriff Teasle even asked another person earlier that morning if they were going to take a bath.

Before Sheriff Teasle drives away, he tells the man to have a nice day and hopes that the ride helped him out.

As Teasle is driving, he notices that the man has turned around and is heading back into town.  Teasle turns around, stops him and asks him for identification.  The man refuses, resists & gets himself arrested – as he should and is charged with vagrancy, resisting arrest and carrying a concealed weapon.

The man was later identified as John J. Rambo.

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When Rambo was arrested and brought into custody, Sheriff Teasle instructed Sgt. Art Galt to “clean up” Rambo because he smelled like an animal.

Needless to say, Sgt. Art Galt was less than friendly when dealing with Rambo because of Rambo’s lack of respect for the law.  He was uncooperative, aggressive and showed signs of paranoid schizophrenia.

After repeated warnings, Rambo remained being a regular “pain-in-the-ass”.

Rambo eventually escaped and eluded authorities and lead them into a dense part of the forest along the mountainside.

Sgt. Art Galt fell to his death from a helicopter when Rambo throughs a rock and hits the windshield, this caused the pilot to lose control, causing Galt to lose his balance.

MOVIE FACT: Sgt. Art Galt was the only fatality throughout the entire film.

The National Guard was called in to apprehend Rambo.  This outfit was lead by Lieutenant Clinton Morgan.  The National Guard chased Rambo in an abandoned mine.  After a brief gun battle, Lieutenant Clinton Morgan gave the order to use a rocket launcher against Rambo.  This caused the entrance way to the mine to collapse and Rambo was thought to have perished.

Sheriff Teasle then instructed Lieutenant Clinton Morgan to recover Rambo’s body.


The Shit We Pulled

Part of the “Shit Starting & Shenanigans” Collectionrailroad-54350_640

Being a 15-year-old male in “the Region” was an exciting time for me; being a policeman’s son, sometimes made it that much better.

I was daring, reckless, maybe a bit of an idiot.  Some may even say that I was a complete lunatic, but whatever it is you’re told, they’ll also tell you that they’ll never forget the shit we pulled – I made sure of that.

Jumping and Riding Trains

My two cousins (Mike & Bill) and I got this crazy idea about jumping and riding trains, we thought that it be a great way to get around – you know…free transportation!  The problem with that idea was that these trains didn’t go anywhere we wanted to go, so jumping and riding them was pretty much pointless and a waste of time, but we didn’t care; we jumped and rode them anyway.

PART ONE – COUSIN MIKE

One of the first incidents that almost went horribly wrong while jumping and riding trains was with my cousin Mike.  Mike and I talked and planned about jumping a train that carried brand new (tough built) cars from a nearby auto plant.  We thought that we could hop a train car that carried these new cars and then take the radios out of them.  I’m not sure what we planned to do with the radios once we got them…we didn’t plan that far ahead.

I mean, it’s not like we knew anyone that was in the market for stolen, factory built car radios…and besides, we never got that far anyway.

It was mid afternoon when Mike and I decided to head out towards the train depot.  Neither one of us have ever taken out a car radio before so we weren’t exactly sure what tools to bring – so we brought hammers.

Yes. Hammers.

Not the first tool of choice for most thieves.

These weren’t your typical claw hammers either, no, these were the odd looking mechanic hammers…the hammers with the ball point at the back instead of the usual claw.  Yeah, this was our tool of choice for such an operation, according to our calculations, we figured hammers would do just fine.

Oh, did I mention that this was our first time doing something like this?

…hammers are terrible tools to use when trying to steal a car radio. 
James Timothy Peters

mechanic-hammer-24230_640Our tool supply came from our grandfather, Grandpa Schreier (Mike’s mother and my mother were sisters and Grandpa Schreier was the father).  Grandpa Schreier had an ample supply of tools.  Masonry tools, carpentry tools, drafting tools, levels, ropes, chains, hooks and a single car garage filled to the rafters with wood.  He had a room in the basement/workshop that was totally dedicated to doors and an old bomb cellar dedicated to ladders.

When I asked my uncle why Grandpa had all that wood in the garage, the response was “In case the house burns down he’d be able to build another one.”

The Door Room: A room that is dedicated to just doors. It is filled with interior & exterior doors; closet & bedroom doors; French doors, Colonial style doors, &c.  Whatever door you may need…Grandpa Schreier just might have it.

The Ladder Room: An old bomb cellar that Grandpa Schreier built under his front porch, surrounded by brick 12″ thick (minus the entryway).  It may not have been able to take a direct hit or withstand the radiation from a nuclear blast, but you sure felt like it could when you stood in it.  After the bomb scare in the 1960’s, the bomb cellar eventually became the new storage place for all 30 of his extension ladders.

There was an opening in the chain-link fence of the train yard that was just big enough for us to squeeze through.  We brought along a pillow case that we took from our grandmothers linen closet.  We carried our hammers in them on the way to the train depot and we were going to use them to carry our car radios on the way back.

Everything was coming together.

As we crept through the hole in the fence and through the high brush and tall weeds, we moved slowly and made sure we weren’t spotted.

Now that I think about it, Mike was wearing all white.  A white tank-top; white shorts & boat shoes.  The perfect outfit for a stealthy operation such as this.

Luckily, a train carrying these automobiles was just on its way out of the train yard.  It was going so slow you could walk next to it and still keep up.  It was easy to hop on…very, VERY easy to jump and ride this train…almost too easy.

We quickly climbed on board and hid until the train made the turn at the bend in the gully.  We stayed hidden and made sure that none of the “yard guys” saw us.  As soon as we made that turn in the bend we went to work.

I instantly jumped up and ran next to the car that Mike was looking at.

“This is how you do it,” I said to Mike as I slammed a hammer against the car door window and smashed it.

“What are you talking about?” Mike said back. “That’s the back door.”

Wow.
He was right.

“Alrighty then,” I answered back.
So, as casual as I could make it, I went over and smashed the front door window.

We looked at each other.  He looked at me as if I were crazy; reached over and opened the door by the handle.

There was no need to smash the windows – the doors were unlocked.

Oh well.

I jumped in the car and went to town.  I smashed the shit out of that dashboard with that hammer trying to get at that radio.  I got it down to the metal…damn, all I needed was a Phillips screwdriver.  If I had that, I would have gotten that radio out a lot faster.

Oh yeah, that’s right…I got it out – with an ugly looking hammer.
And Mike got his out of the car he was in with his.

It was time to go.
We stuffed those two radios in the pillow case and when I was about to hit another car I heard Mike say something that changed everything.

“Jimmy. We have a problem…look!” Mike yelled as he pointed outside.
Mike was standing where we climbed on.  I walked up to where he was standing and looked out.
“The train picked up speed!”

Oh my God.  It was flying.
At the time, I would have said we were going 50 mph easy, but maybe now that I think about it, it was going about 25-30 mph – tops.  That may not seem fast, but try saying that while hanging on the side of a train.

We didn’t know what to do.  Things started to speed up.  We’re like “Okay, okay…be calm.”  Then we’d look out the train again and saw a sign that read GARY, as in Gary, Indiana.  We needed to get off and get off fast.

We got our thoughts together and decided to get rid of the evidence.  We’ll toss the hammers and the pillow case full of radios off the train and then if things go right, we’ll come back and pick them up.
Good idea.

We went to the other side of the train and looked out.  There was just another set of tracks and a huge field.  I tossed the hammers first.  I tried to toss them gently and tried to remember where I tossed them, but it didn’t matter.  I tried to toss them over the other side of the other set of tracks but I missed.  Those hammers hit those tracks so hard they bounced right underneath the train.  So much for those.

Mike tossed the pillow case of radios off the train and when they hit the ground, the whole pillowcase exploded.  Those two radios flew into pieces.

So much for our BIG score.

I thought Mike was going to bounce underneath the train just like the hammers.

I thought Mike was going to bounce underneath the train just like the hammers.

We had to get off this train because we’re headed for Gary, Indiana… and that doesn’t mean it’s going to stop in Gary either. With our luck, we’d probably end up in Ohio somewhere if we didn’t do what we did next.

Mike thought quickly and came up with the idea of hanging on the side of the train and try to run with it – while still holding on to the train.  When he thought the time was right, he would let go and just gradually slow down from running on his own.

At the time, it sounded like it’d work…
but it didn’t.

Mike took about three or four HUGE running steps and started somersaulting head-over-heels right next to the train.  His boat shoes flew off in opposite directions.  He had to have flipped six or seven times before veering off away from the train.

I had to have been at least 40-50 yards away before Mike came to a complete stop.  He stopped in a patch of sticker bushes just to make matters worse.

“MIKE!” I yelled out from the train to see if he was all right.  I saw him pick his head up and his arm signalling me he was okay.

I hung from the train like he did and decided that this was NOT for me.  I climbed back in the train and decided to just run and jump off.  That’s more my style.

I landed; rolled a little bit; jumped to my feet and ran over to see if Mike was okay.

Guess what?
He was a bit bloody, but he was okay.

PART TWO – COUSIN BILL

To be continued.


I will never ask the question: “How in the HELL can you run yourself over?”

If you’re guessing where this is going – you’re correct…
I almost ran myself over.

I nearly ran myself over!

I know what you’re thinking, “How can you run yourself over?”

It’s a little tricky, but it can be done!

I understand how it happened, I just can’t imagine what would have happened had my van actually ran me over.  If it wasn’t for my “cat like” reflexes and my keen “sense of aware“, I might have gone to the hospital.

I know, I know… whatever.

CLICK HERE

CLICK HERE

But if you’re interested in reading on HOW & WHY it happened, then by all means – please, continue.

Early one morning…

I was opening Lauers Pub in Calumet City, IL and decided to park directly in front of the tavern.  When I came to a complete stop, I turned off the ignition before placing the gear in park.  Quite simply – I forgot.  The van was off, but it was still in drive.

This is what it looked like before I had it repaired.

This is what it looked like before I had it repaired.

I know what you’re thinking, but before you decide that I must be FULL OF SHIT, let me just tell you that my van was once a stolen vehicle.  And in order for them to steal the van, they had to pop its ignition.

So now, that safety feature that disables any vehicle from starting if it is NOT in park…yeah, that feature has been disconnected in my vehicle and will now start in ANY gear (even reverse).

Needless to say, I jump out of the van and continued on with my day not realizing that I had not put the van in park.  So it sat IN GEAR for half a day.

When it was time to go, I dragged ass back to the van and used a screwdriver to enable the starter/ignition.  I crawled under the van and used the same screwdriver to jump the starter.  This is when everything went wrong.

When the van started it instantly took off.  If it wasn’t for my “cat-like” reflexes, this day may have ended on a more serious note.  Luckily, with my self-taught ninja skills I managed to roll out of the way of the out-of-control van.  Rolling from underneath a moving van while against a 6 inch curb was a bit tricky, but again…because of my athletic ability, I managed to avoid running myself over.

I sprang to my feet and started running after my van down the street.  Fortunately, it turned towards the curb and jumped it.  When the van hit the curb it slow down considerably making it possible for me to open the passenger side door and jump in.

The van was now heading towards a fire hydrant and I still wasn’t able to stop the van – just steer it.  I quickly turned the steering wheel to the left to get back on the street – missing the hydrant by inches.

When the van rolled down from the sidewalk onto the street, I jumped over to the drivers seat and was able to take control.PerfectlyNormal2a

I slammed on the brakes and took a minute or two to gather my thoughts.

Did that just happen?

I got my shit together and turned the van around.
While I was doing this, I noticed an old lady standing on her porch looking at me shaking her head.

You’re welcome, lady.
You’re welcome for the entertainment.

WANT TO READ PART II? CLICK HERE!