Posted: Saturday, February 27, 2010
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Am I in love or just spaced out??
I got lost  driving to the monthly meeting of UFOG. I can't find a community college in the suburbs, yet I'm supposed to believe aliens travel billions of light years across infinite vastness of outer space and land in your yard. On purpose. UFOG is the Unidentified Flying Object Group. And this is not my first visit. Call me crazy. Last year I listened to Ron H. of Molalla, a normal-enough-looking guy, talk about the time he saw  a 50-foot red ball hovering over his car, as he drove down Highway 213. In the next few days, beautiful, wrinkless humanoids visited him in his living room. In 1982, the aliens said the United States was headed toward nuclear war... within three years. That's when Ron first went public with his experiences. His phone was tapped, he said, and his mail intercepted. Visitors - government types, think men in black - stopped by his place of business. The aliens told Ron they want humans to continue to live on Earth (how generous!) But, if we destroy ourselves, then, well, the planet will be re-populated by you-know-who. They are not gods, more like science officers working on a specific project. And we are it. Ms. Layne D., a hypnotherapist, has never personally experienced a UFO contact. But a number of her patients have. Like the woman who was visited by a little man. After some testing, she gave him "one of her eggs." Another patient, it seems, was not a normal female, but the offspring of her mother and an alien entity. Probably answered the wrong Personals ad. By now, you are doubtlessly wondering, DO SPACE FOLKS FOOL AROUND? This month's program is entitled "Alien Abduction for Crossbreeding Purposes." A total of 428 homo sapiens showed up. Snicker if you must. But, given the sheer number of planets OUT THERE, anyone who plays the national lottery should probably believe in UFOs. Initially, Bruce S. thought his experiences were nothing more than very unusual dreams. Then, just a year ago, sleeping in a mobile home in Matena, Washington, the bearded, burly Bruce awoke, glanced out his window and saw a UFO. His first. He tried to move, but couldn't. When he finally forced his right hand to lift off the bed, the spaceship disappeared. Blinked off. The next three days, he'd wake up in the middle of the night, fully aroused. He just knew there was an alien woman out in the woods behind the house. He knew she'd come in, if he asked. "I felt debauched, so I went out to the kitchen and made some tea." Bruce told his therapist about his sexual longings for a space female. The counselor pointed out that his personal life - he was going through a divorce - was not fulfilling his needs, so his subsconscious was creating an imaginary love interest. Bruce wanted to believe this was true. Then one night - accompanied by "two little guys" - an alien woman showed up in Bruce's bedroom. She - he calls her his honeybun - was about 5' 6", naked except for a black wig. "Not bad looking," with very wierd eyes. (Sounds just like a lady I used to date.) She comes into his bedroom in the middle of the night... romantic music up, fade to black.  Soon thereafter, Bruce heard the story of another man who'd had experiences just like his own. Bruce burst into tears. Emotion, relief, flowed out. "Those tears are my proof," he said. "I knew then that my alien sex life was real." Whew! I suddenly had an incredible urge for a cigarette.  And I don't even smoke. I was willing to take the man's testimony at face value, but then... "I'm proud they picked me," Bruce boasts. "I've got kids in space." But no Earth children. Go, figure. According to a mental voyage he took to a galactic nursery, Bruce has 30 to 40 alien offspring. How many mixed-species children in this crossbreeding program, you ask? Either 340,000 or 34 million. The message was unclear. According to Bruce, the offspring will be the "second generation," which will colonize Earth in 2020-2030. Around about then. Bruce believes he has been abducted by "the government" - I assume ours - because the Feds want to know what the aliens are up to. He believes there are underground bases in Los Alamos that are operated jointly by aliens and U.S. authorities. He now believes he lost his virginity at age 14 to an alien. He also believes his tentmate at Boy Scout Camp was an alien. I find myself hoping this was an innocuous coincidence. Do I believe him? Well, I was never a Boy Scout. To be honest, the idea of spending a week in the hinterlands with a bunch of adolescent males in uniform always seemed, well, alien to me.
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Posted: Tuesday, February 23, 2010
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Wisdom of Wolves by Twyman ToweryThe attitude of the wolf can be summed up simply: it is a constant visualization of success. The collective wisdom of wolves has been progressively programmed into their genetic makeup throughout the centuries. Wolves have mastered the technique of focusing their energies toward the activities that will lead to the accomplishment of their goals. Wolves do not aimlessly run around their intended victims, yipping and yapping. They have a strategic plan and execute it through constant communication. When the moment of truth arrives, each understands his role and understands exactly what the pack expects of him. The wolf does not depend on luck. The cohesion, teamwork and training of the pack determines whether the pack lives or dies. There is a silly maxim in some organizations that everyone, to be a valuable member, must aspire to be the leader. This is personified by the misguided CEO who says he only hires people who say they want to take his job. Evidently, this is supposed to ensure that the person has ambition, courage, spunk, honesty, drive - whatever. In reality, it is simply a contrived situation, with the interviewee jumping through the boss's hoops. It sends warnings of competition and one-upmanship throughout the organization rather than signals of cooperation, teamwork and loyalty. Everyone does not strive to be the leader in the wolf pack. Some are consummate hunters or caregivers or jokesters, but each seems to gravitate to the role he does best. This is not to say there are not challenges to authority, position and status - there are. But each wolf's role begins emerging from playtime as a pup and refines itself through the rest of its years. The wolf's attitude is always based upon the question, "What is best for the pack?" This is in marked contrast to us humans, who will often sabotage our organizations, families or businesses, if we do not get what we want. Wolves are seldom truly threatened by other animals. By constantly engaging their senses and skills, they are practically unassailable. They are masters of planning for the moment of opportunity to present itself, and when it does, they are ready to act. Because of training, preparation, planning, communication and a preference for action, the wolf's expectation is always to be victorious. While in actuality this is true only 10 percent of the time or less, the wolf's attitude is always that success will come -and it does.
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Posted: Friday, February 19, 2010
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Another true story from the Wild Dog's past. 11 a.m. In the morning. A sizzling, steamy Sunday in a scorching summer. Hot. Humid. Hot. Humid. Real hot. Real humid. I walk into the house after a ten-mile run. I'm all sweaty, dripping on the hardwood floors. I hear my girlfriend on the phone with one of her girlfriends. These are really attractive women. Both in their forties. Both feminists. I strip out of my wet clothes. My girlfriend laughs. And she says, "String him along. Meanwhile, you'll get your brains humped out, which is all you're really looking for." I get a tall beer out of the refrigerator. "Cheat all you want," my girlfriend advises. She jumps to her feet and starts waving her empty hand in the air like a preacher on the television. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." I go take a cold shower. 
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Posted: Wednesday, February 17, 2010
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There was a blind girl who hated
herself
because she was blind. She hated
everyone, except her loving boyfriend.
He was always there for her. She told
her boyfriend, 'If I could only see
the world, I will marry you.'
One day, someone donated a pair of
eyes to her.. When the bandages
came off, she was able to see
everything, including her boyfriend.
He asked her,'Now that you can see the
world, will you marry me?' The girl
looked at her boyfriend and saw that he
was blind. The sight of his closed
eyelids shocked her. She hadn't
expected that. The thought of looking at
them the rest of her life led her to
refuse to marry him..
Her boyfriend left in tears and days
later
wrote a note to her saying: 'Take good
care of your eyes, my dear, for before
they were yours, they were mine.'
This is how the human brain often
works when our status changes.
Only a very few remember what life was
like before, and who was always by
their side in the most painful
situations.
Life Is a Gift .
Today before you say an unkind word -
Think of someone who can't speak..
Before you complain about the taste of
your food - Think of someone who has
nothing to eat..
Before you complain about your
husband or wife - Think of someone
who's crying out to GOD for a
companion.
Today before you complain about life -
Think of someone who went
too early to heaven.
Before whining about the distance you
drive, think of someone who walks the
same distance on their feet.
And when you are tired and complain
about your job - Think of the
unemployed, the disabled, and those
who wish they had your job.
And when depressing thoughts seem to
get you down...
Put a smile on your face and think:
you're alive and still around.
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Posted: Monday, February 15, 2010
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I do not think of myself as a gambler. I do not think of myself as a gambler, despite three marriages, three business start-ups, elephant racing, drunk driving, stock market short selling, bar fights, cliff diving, sports betting, drugs, blind dates.... I do not think of myself as a gambler, despite some stuff I can't talk about.  I don't much like risk. Risk avoidance seems like a major hindrance to poker success. Losing just hurts too much. Certainly, losing feels far more painful than winning feels good. But I realize if I am going to be a winning player - and I am going to be - I have to learn to take more chances. Psychology professor Elke Weber said something helpful. "Attraction to risk is not an innate trait that some people have and others don't. Mostly we're chance-takers in some areas of our lives and not in others." Which suggests to me I can learn to be more daring. In poker at least. "The difference," Professor Weber continues, "is in what we perceive to be risky. For example, you might take fewer risks in a certain aspect of your life, but not because you're more scared, but because you see a greater potential downside. It's all about perspective. Most rock climbers think rock climbing is pretty safe. People who don't climb think it's pretty dangerous." Drunks don't seem to think drunk driving is dangerous. But then they're not thinking. Maybe I think too much. Maybe I think too much about losing. It can't be the money. My wife spends more in one afternoon's worth of shopping than I lose at the tables in a bad month. I think I just hate to lose. But I'm learning. I'm learning, if you're afraid to lose, you have no chance of winning.
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Posted: Friday, February 12, 2010
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Okay, it's an e-mail. But your life will be better for reading it. - JDW by the way, new article appears here: http://www.grinderschool.com/poker-strategy-article-job-hunting-and-poker.shtml He was the kind of guy some love to hate. Always in a good mood, always with something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he'd reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins." Seeing this style really made me
curious,
so one day I went up and asked him, 'I
don't get it!'
'You can't be a positive person all of the
time. How do you do it?'
He replied, 'Each morning I wake up and
say to myself, you have two choices today. You can
choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad
mood. I choose to be in a good mood..'
Each time something bad happens, I can
choose to be a victim or...
I can choose to learn from it I choose to
learn from it..
Every time someone comes to me
complaining, I can choose to accept
their complaining or...I can point out the
positive side of life.
I choose the positive side of life.
'Yeah, right, it's not that easy,' I
protested.
When you cut away all the junk, every
situation is a choice.
You choose how you react to
situations.
You choose how people affect your
mood....
You choose to be in a good mood or bad
mood.
The bottom line: It's your choice how
you live your life.'
I reflected on what he said. Soon
hereafter, I left the that industry to start
my own business. We lost touch, but I
often thought about him when I made a
choice about life instead of reacting to
it.
Several years later, I heard he was
involved in a serious accident, falling
some 60 feet from a communications
tower.
After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of
intensive care, he was released from the
hospital with rods placed in his back.
I saw him about six months after the
accident.
When I asked him how he was, he
replied,
'If I were any better, I'd be
twins....Wanna see my scars?'
I declined to see his wounds, but I did
ask him what had gone through his mind
as the accident took place.
'The first thing that went through my
mind was the well-being of my soon-to-
be-born daughter,' he replied. 'Then, as
I lay on the ground, I remembered that I
had two choices: I could choose to live
or.....I could choose to die. I chose to
live.'
'Weren't you scared? Did you lose
consciousness?' I asked.
He continued, '...the paramedics were
great.
They kept telling me I was going to be
fine. But when they wheeled me into the
ER and I saw the expressions on the
faces of the doctors and nurses, I got
really scared. In their eyes, I read 'he's
a dead man'. I knew I needed to take
action.'
'What did you do?' I asked.
'Well, there was a big burly nurse 
shouting questions at me,' said John .
'She asked if I was allergic to anything.
'Yes, I replied.' The doctors and nurses
stopped working as they waited for my
reply. I took a deep breath and yelled,
'Gravity.''
Over their laughter, I told them, 'I am
choosing to live.
Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead.'
He lived, thanks to the skill of his
doctors, but also because of his
amazing attitude....I learned from him
that every day we have the choice to live
fully..
Attitude, after all, is everything.
Each day has enough trouble of its own.'
Matthew 6:34
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow,
for tomorrow will worry about itself.
'Yes, it is,' he said. 'Life is all about choices.
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Posted: Monday, February 8, 2010
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Some notes from The Wild Dog Archives. I'm standing there... trying on asbestos jumpsuits and asbestos helmets and asbestos boots and asbestos gloves and an air pack and a gas mask. Still, I am thinking something is missing. What, no asbestos underwear? Somebody hands me a "Hold No Harm" form, which The City seems to think will protect it while I attend Fire School. I signed it. If I am merely injured - trust me - I'll still sue. Somebody should definitely have stepped in and stopped me from doing something this stupid. If I die, I am coming back from wherever totally charred humans go when their bones turn to briquettes. And I'll put razor blades on the poles they slide on down to the firetrucks. You know the poles mean. We are welcomed by a man in uniform. I look good in a uniform. I also look good with many days off and a secure job with great benefits and a generous retirement plan. "Next, we are going to have you put on a turn-out, a flame retardant suit and have you race up two flights of stair in a burning building, find the dummy in the smoke and race back down with her - all 107 pounds - on your back." HA! I'm thinking, no, you're not. No way. 'Cause then I'd be the dummy in the smoke. Call me crazy, but I have a predilection against flames. I tend not to rush toward them. My parents, bless their hearts, taught me to head in the opposite direction. The guy is still talking. I don't pay attention to a couple of gruesome, but nonetheless amusing, incidents that have occurred with this organization in the past. "Today, there will be no mistakes," he continues. I am heartened. Can't tell you just how much. Okay. A lot. "Thirty-two firefighters have died in the line of duty in this city." He might have waited until after the day's activities before sharing that tidbit. I am thinking, you hardly ever meet an old firefighter. The first event is Ladder Climbing. "We'll be going up to the top and then doing a 360-degree turn." We will? You can't even see the top, which seems to disappear into a cloud. The instructor offers a comforting thought to me and my partner, Linda. "There nothing to be scared of." It's a 100-foot ladder. I let Linda go first. "Can we go higher?," I hear her ask, as she starts climbing. Extrication was cool. We got to use the Hurst Tool - known as the Jaws of Life - to take the roof off a 1975 Mercury Marquis. These powered pryers exert 12,000 pounds of pressure. That's six tons. The instructor explains, "I've never seen anything withstand this machine." Later. "It will go where it wants to go. Don't fight the tool. Go with it." Always good advice. Don't fight the tool. Next... The LIVE BURN ROOM. Frankly, that's three words I have never before seen amicably linked together. "Temperatures can reach 2,000 degrees inside a building building," the instructor says. That's about 1,928 good reasons not to enter one, I say. It's dark. Except for the flames. It's smoky, too. My face mask is fogged up. I don't have medical insurance. "Okay, get down on your knees," we're ordered, "and crawl towards the fire." I let Linda go first. "Jack D." "What?!?!" "You forgot the hose." Right. Next is a lecture about why it isn't stupid for firemen to knock out all the windows and chop a huge hole in the roof. Sometimes they look like they are trying the house instead of saving it. This is ventilating. So, we are given an ax and directed to chop a huge hole in a roof. Real axe, simulated roof. "One of the best things about this job," says a younger member of the faculty, "is you can break crap." I went first. During Apparatus Familiarization, we get a tour of one of the newest fire trucks, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I ask if I can take it for a spin. They say "No." Well, then, can I just hit the siren a couple of times? We learn maybe 70% of all fire runs are for medical emergencies... car wrecks, baby deliveries, drug overdoses. All of the firemen are Emergency Medical Technicians. Paramedics. Men and women we can count on. Next..what we've all been waiting for... the SMOKE MAZE IN THE BASEMENT. Seven minutes in there. About the time it takes to jog a mile. A lifetime, it might as well be. The remainder of one perhaps. We step through a trap door and take a ladder underground. Where we end up is a place you wouldn't hope to find your worst enemy. I let Linda go first. The instructions are to put your right hand on the wall and your left hand on the firefighting student in front of you. Listen to our leader. He'll tell you when to turn, when to duck, etc. I am thinking I'd like to know more about 'etc.' I've got a gas mask on, a helmet, flaps over my ears. And I can't hear a word the man is saying. I can't see doo-doo. Then my right hand loses the wall. And the person under my left hand moves off. And I am alone. By myself. I can smell oil burning billows of smoke. I suck it up and tell myself, "If Linda can do this, then so can I." Then she came back and led me out. At the end of the day, there was something of a final exam. I am part of a Search And Rescue Team. We're supposed to rush into a burning building, run up a couple of flights of stairs, find the dummy in the smoke and carry her out to safety. I went first. But - surprise! - there was no second day at firefighters' school for me. That's right. Linda's on her own.
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Posted: Friday, February 5, 2010
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Posted: Thursday, February 4, 2010
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A woman awakes during the night to find that her husband was not in their bed. She puts on her robe and goes downstairs to look for him. She finds him sitting at the kitchen table, with a cup of coffee in front of him. He appears deep in thought, just staring at the wall. She watches as he wipes a tear from his eye and takes a sip of coffee. "What's the matter, dear?," she whispers as she steps into the room, "Why are you down here at this time of night?". The husband looks up, "Do you remember twenty years ago when we were dating, and you were only 16?" he asks solemnly. The wife is touched to tears, thinking that her husband is so caring and sensitive. "Yes, I do," she replies. The husband pauses. The words are not coming easily. "Do you remember when your father caught us in the back seat of my car making love?" "Yes, I remember," says the wife, lowering herself into a chair beside him. The husband continues..."Do you remember when he shoved a shotgun in my face and said, "Either you marry my daughter, or I will send you to jail for 20 years?'" "Yes, I remember that, too" she replies softly. He wipes another tear from his cheek and says..."I would have gotten out today!"
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