Wednesday, June 06, 2007

The Fear of G.O.D.

Hi All!

Well I've managed to sink to less than 20 hits a day (heck I don't even get trollers from China much anymore) but I know my writings will make my kids rich once unearthed and edited. I have even taken the precaution of mirroring Wogsblog on two different PCs and wasting money on overpriced HP INK (and the libs think the OIL Companies are screwing us) to make good old fashioned hard copies.

As I struggle with trying to do right by my three rebellious teens, I have resisted, pretty much, using my end-stage liver disease as a guilt cudgel.

However, I just receive a new book called "Dadditude" in time for Father's Day and on first review, I have been "right" with my kids more than half the time in past, more so now. Of course, our relationships are at a low ebb, but I take comfort in knowing that it is not too late for disabusing them of the false impression that life is a carefree breeze. Drill sergeants don't have any problem breaking even a 21-year -old down and building back up. And my eldest is but a tender 19.

Not that I am gonna be daddy drill sergeant, but I am leaning more in that direction.

So I came up with the concept of using my hopefully not but likely too premature demise to lay on a wee bit of guilt. It is an easy concept to grasp, but will be hard to flesh out in practice.

I am gonna put the fear of G.O.D. in those urchins.

Ghost of Dad.

Gosh it's so tempting to just wake them up early every day and say, "(short quick breaths) "I think the sudden acute liver failure is finally happening and before I lapse into my coma I just I want to say goodbye. I will return as G.O.D. (hee hee!)

To be honest, I was diagnosed a couple of years before my catastrophic second DWI as chronicled in the Archives (look for a gap in 2004-2005) that would be hospital , treatment, jail, threat of restraining order, still drank after that until a bit into '06. (My "just average" little brother is a sober millionaire).

So I keep telling everyone that I am like a worn out fan belt that can go at any time, but somehow I open my yellow eyes and stubbornly drag my very tired and failing grossly bloated body out of bed almost most days (sometimes I just can't).

'Cos I gotta live to do the best I can to start each day as a new beginning in child rearing and trying to get into their muddled heads how they need to get a good jump on adult life. So inspired, and with a bit of self treatment with an illegal herb for the physical manifestations of Liver Gone Bad, on I go.

Will learn if I will be accepted for the national transplant registry in July. I've heard many anecdotes of people on the list who get excited to hear about car crashes and murders and wonder if they are the right blood type! I am an O, which is the most common and in-demand, hence the longest wait.

Maybe I will turn my stats around by posting more frequently (I go thru stages of wanting to quit and wanting to tell the world my "Lifestory"). Who knows -- some day I will get back to 30 good hits a day! Cripes, I give almost that many to Mitch of, who is admittedly WAY better a thinker and writer as he still has most of his generous brain capacity left. And to think that way back, I was just as good, and even better, but I decided to make money and drink instead.

Now, why did I just leave the room and come back and where the hell did I put those keys, and what am I writing about?

No luck on rooms and keys but I remember to say that I will tell me kids that the G.O.D. will haunt them all their days as they regret ignore the lessons he imparted that fell on deaf ears.




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