"If you can't control your fear, you can't control nothing."
--My dentist…but it also applies to Monster Hunting
Dateline: N 43° 42' 35" W 73° 56' 11" Elev: 1131 1:05 am EST

Everything is green.

Gen-3 Night vision green. Night vision so powerful, a firefly becomes Mothra-like.
When the bug's rear end light goes on, the flash temporarily blinds you.
An up-to-no-good green.

The forest to my left, with an open meadow beyond, all bathed in florescent green. An empty drainage ditch to my right, same freakin' green. An area that Bigfoot Hunter/possible D.O.D. spy guy Denver called a perfect Sasquatch Freeway. "They'll come right down this track here," he said.

And "here" is exactly where I'm standing. On a Blair Witchy green abandoned railroad track. All alone. Tonight, I'm a Bigfoot roadblock. I'm 50 yards behind the Bigfoot Hunters, and they have guns. I have a plastic telescopic Wal-Mart hiking pole for protection. And something just howled in my right ear. And no one else heard it. But me. Me and my adjustable stick. "Denver…Spinner…ah, little help, dudes." I know I said it, but I never heard the words. I did hear a beep, then two beeps, and then three.

On the fourth beep, the super duper sort-of-borrowed-from-a-state-police-fugitive-squadteam Gen-3 night vision, went out. Darkness swept in, so thick, so black, the only thing visible is fear. That's when the howl began in my left ear. On the Sasquatch Superhighway. The only movement was my walking stick thing, shaking. Then I see my son, Jimmy, break off from the group and run back my way, straight into the howls.

I sold my blood in college to buy textbooks. 

Back in the late 1970's the going rate per textbook was about 2.135 pints per USED book…only 2 pints if the textbook had passages highlighted.

If I was short on pints that week I just brought my own highlighter to the UB bookstore.  You gotta do what you gotta do.

I don't have enough blood left in me to fund my National Traveling Internet Columnist w/o A Travel Budget Tour.  And besides, God knows what has been added to my own personal blood bank between now and my college days.

Think Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young on tour…all in one body.  Mine.

So this is my, db's, Economic Stimulus Plan:  SEND ME MONEY.  And taking a cue from all those successful companies out there getting all the rest of your cash, I won't be sending it back to you either.

I will send you a Hula Girl though.

Pretty much guarantee the banks or car companies can't match that offer.  Go ahead, call GM, ask them exactly this:  "So Mr. General Motors, ah, since you just got a bazillion dollars of my taxes, any chance you could send me a couple rear-view mirror air fresheners for my Dodge."

Expect to be put on hold…for years.

You might call Congress and ask them exactly this:  "Ah, Mr. Uncle Sam, being related to me through taxes and things, and since most of us think this bailout stuff stinks, any chance you could send me an air freshener to, you know, get rid of the smell."

If you make that call to the feds two things will happen:  You'll get an $800,000,000 non-smelling air freshener in the mail, and, an audit.

I'll send you the same thing for about $799,999,995.00 (plus shipping) less.

And it smells.  Like coconuts.  Or Hawaii. 

Or maybe even a real Hula Girl, but I can't advertise that since I've never actually been downwind of a grass skirt that's been gyrating around all day for tourists, and if that's the smell you are looking for my CPA, Dawn, says I need to be up front and say that this only smells like a real Hula Girl if real Hula Girls are made of flat paper that smells like dollar store bad "fruity" sunscreen with a SPF value of 1.

Now, for those of you who want to help the National Traveling Internet Columnist w/o A Travel Budget Fund, but are not necessarily thrilled about having something stinky show up in your mailbox and thereby driving the neighbor's dogs and all the outside cats crazy, you can just flat out SEND ME MONEY AND NOT EXPECT ANYTHING BACK.

If I had a flag, I'd be just like the feds huh.

Here's some legal stuff you need to know before pretending I'm an auto manufacturer or a mortgage company that qualified applicant's PETS for sub-prime equity loans based on the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, & 5th mortgage of your neighbor down the street who was told it was okay to sign since it was pretty much just "a bunch of paper signing stuff like that clearinghouse prize thing…"

Legal Stuff:  Even though I'm pretty much perpetually broke, the government still refuses to believe that, in the truest sense of the word, I'm a NON-PROFIT, since pretty much any PROFIT I seem to stumble over always ends up on the "Gimme it" line of some 1040A form, and since they never seem to return my emails in which I explain that if it wouldn't be for the fact that there was a GOVERNMENT I would indeed be a for profit kind of guy since most of my money would in fact be MINE.

But it's not.

So, if you hit that DONATION button, you need to know that you are sending it to the government of db, and like you are long accustomed to, you will get no goods or services upon sending the money.

And don't even think of trying to write it off, because frankly, there's a 50/50 chance I may NOT EVEN REPORT IT, depending of course on whether the government actually finds this website, or not.

Thank you for your support,