Some Changes at 618Rants

I have spent virtually my entire working life trying to help people, to make them safe, to make sure they go home to their loved ones at night. All too often, though, I put the needs of the many ahead of the needs of the few, or of the one, as Mr. Spock might say. My career in law enforcement and private-sector security cost me two marriages, a couple of intervening relationships, and almost cost me my life. It left me an alcoholic, vicious, mean, bigoted bastard; it took me almost twenty years to recover from that (I haven't done any drinking since 1989, and had it not been for the lovely yet talented Mrs618, I might never have recovered).

More recently, I've been engaged in firefighting and yet another round in EMS (my third). Because these are paid-on-call jobs, they weren't as time-consuming as police work, but I still tried my very best.

No more.

A couple of things happened yesterday, including hearing my alcoholic, psychologically-abusive father tell my drunk junkie brother that HE was the reliable one... after the lovely yet talented Mrs618 and I left a pair of $50,000-a-year jobs and moved to Maine to take care of my parents. After I've been fixing their house -- at MY expense -- for six years. After putting myself in the hospital a bunch of times with exhaustion, chest pains, bad knees, pneumonias, and a few things that looked like strokes or heart attacks.

Plus, I've been getting some really snotty emails from the local logistics person at the Red Cross, who seems to feel it is MY job to verify all the logistical issues for a class (if that is the case, why do we pay a full-time logistics person? And what does she do to earn her keep?).

I lay awake all night, thinking about things. About 4:00 AM, I felt a door close, then I got really cold, then everything just kind of mellowed out.

I had made my decisions:

• No more caring about anybody other than the lovely yet talented Mrs618, Emily (the Lab), Joey (the cat), and my son.
• I will continue to do the best job I can with the FD and EMS, but that's all it is now, a job. If you live, fine. If you don't, well, sucks to be you.
• Someone else can do the 14 or 15 different functions I'd been filling at the Red Cross for the last six years, including getting up in the middle of the night to go to house fires (I'll still go for the FD, cause they pay me).
• No feelings, no emotion, no empathy, no sympathy. Talk to the hand, dude.
• Ditto with their cultural norms, belief systems, languages, religions or other ethnic crap. You live in the United States, you adjust to OUR way of life. You don't like it? Go back to Trashcanistan.
• I'm not going to worry about watching my tongue anymore. Fat-Ass Paul LePage is a fat-assed teabagging douchbag. So is his fat-assed daughter. So is Rafael Eduardo Hijo de Puta Cruz, Canadian-born anchor baby spawn of cigar-sucking Cuban émigré, Castro supporter and Desi Arnaz wannabe Rafael Bienvenido Chinga tu Madre Cruz. So is Bible Spice and her oxygen-thief brood. And all the other cretinous yahoos who need to chlorinate their little corners of the gene pool, like the various Kardashians: Kleenex, Klepto, Klamato, and Klimax. Half of those fucks oughta be shot. Hell, most of 'em oughta be shot.

I don't know if this blog is going to continue. I may post again, I may not. I don't know.

For those who have stopped by and commented in the past -- the folks like BadTux, Jurassic Pork, The Dark Wraith*, skippy the bush kangaroo, the gone-but-not-forgotten Firestarter5 -- thank you. You gave me the encouragement to continue, and you let me think that maybe I had something worthwhile to offer. For the newer folks, the medical and fire service folks like Michael Morse, Justin Schorr, and Curt Varone, we may not agree on everything, but we tried. By God, we tried. To the folks on the old Yahoo wildlife groups, DLP in particular, thank you for the encouragement (and the occasional ball-busting).

BTW, I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Jurassic Pork and his missus are in pretty tough financial straits; if you can toss a few coins his way, please do. They really do deserve to have a roof over their heads.

* The Dark Wraith has been missing in action for a couple of years now, and Google is now showing his old site (and the companion site BigBrassBlog) as possibly infected with malware, so no links. DW, if you should happen to see this, you are missed. Same for Firestarter5.

_

Special Guest Blogger: Emily

Hi, furless ones, this is Emily. I'm Mr618's celebrated Labrador whom you may have read about, back when Mom and Dad thought about things like pet blogging, instead of all that political crap.

A couple of days ago, dad was reading Michael Morse's blog, Rescuing Providence. Captain Morse had a piece about my cousin, Mr. Wilson. Cousin Wilson allegedly asked, "What's a dog?"

It appears Cousin Wilson forgot what the Head Beagle told us as pups, which is that we give the humans a reason to live. Humans, of course, are significantly inferior to canines, but they do serve a useful purpose in that their opposable thumbs allow them to open cans and bags more efficiently than we can with our teeth.

Captain Morse, God (which is, after all, dog spelled backwards) created dogs so firemen could have heroes too.

Despite what the beer companies (and Ben Franklin) say, dogs are the REAL proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

Oh, and here's a picture of Cousin Wilson:

I guess his hair got so white worrying about his dad. Not easy trying to take care of a fire captain in a big city like Providence, I guess. (Hey, Cousin Wilson, when my dad comes down with lobsters for your dad, I'll send down a nice fresh Maine bone for ya, 'kay?)