Painted Rocks, above, courtesy of DD Jill who painstakingly decorated them
Michael Jackson's death got me to thinking:
- There was a time I wanted to throw a rock at MJ for his alleged sexual abuse of children
- As a 9 year old, I threw a rock at a male playmate. I was no David fighting off a Goliath, so he recovered quickly, and returned the favor by hitting me HARD on the arm. Ouch. He also threatened to never speak to me again. He made good on that threat, so in repentance I went to his house a few days later, with my tail between my legs, inviting him to play and to pick up where we left off.
- Boy, do I want to throw a rock at someone now. A certain member of my family refuses to see things my way, and does not realize that I'm perfect with no faults whatsoever. He does not panic when I tell him that the Devil is behind every bush and that the sky is falling; and yes, watch out for those people who are ready to stab him in the back. He refuses to believe that I'm also completely psycho, ehr... I mean psychic, and that the future is in my hands. What is HIS problem!!??
