Topping the blog lists!

You made Thinking Out Loud one of the top ten conservative blogs on "Top Political Blog" site (on April 28, 2012) with an international audience. On February 18, 2013, we hit in the top 50 of ALL political blogs. (This changes all the time, so keep reading.) Thank you.

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Tell Them to STOP on the Replace and Repeal Nonesense

On the issue of Republicans wanting to start the Repeal and Replace thing all over again. ("Repeal of Affordable Care Act Is Back On The Agenda", as reported by the New York Times)

Why?? Because their guy is facing an embarrassment and their leadership is facing calls for them to step down.

But again, why?? Its all a political charade. Its all about THEM and its supposed to be all about US! So here is a quick editorial opinion on it.

OPINION - DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ IT - Contact your representation in DC! Dem or GOP, doesn't matter, call them, email them, twitter them, Facebook them . . . hell, go stand at the door to their offices! Let them know that the repeal crap they are trying is NO GOOD! The legislation they keep trying to write to "replace and repeal" is NOT THE WAY TO GO! Tell them to work on individual legislation to FIX the problems with Obamacare! The House started doing this with H.R. 372 and 1101! Tell them that THAT is the way to go! Make them understand this is not a thing that is a prize to be won between the political parties, this is something that affects the lives of Americans and it is OUR wishes, not theirs, that need to be listened to!

If you want them to keep doing this instead of their job, if you think that one party MUST prevail over the other no matter what it does to the American people, then go ahead and encourage this bad, immoral activity in Washington DC.

But if you, like me, want it to STOP, then do something about it. Don't wait for someone else to do it for you. Thai is the government of the people, for the people, by the people.

But hey, thats just me Thinking Out Loud!

Wednesday, March 8, 2017


A painter paints, a musician makes music, an actor acts and a writer writes. But why? What process do these artisans go through? And why?

Words. I seek them out like a deer seeking nourishment through the cold winter. Every step leading me through the vast white wilderness, not knowing where or if I will find the victuals that will carry me onward. As they escape me, I struggle on, hopeful and desperate. Weak and soul weary, I can not go back, yet I fear I can not go forward. Fear and panic lead me to despair. Hope and the promise of life lead me down the next path. Blindly I search.

The page before me is as blank as the deepest snow, no familiar landmark nor trail to guide me. Yet it is in this vast empty wild I find the solace for which my soul yearns. Even in its vacant form, it yields the promise of things to come. For without the unfilled page, there is no canvas which to lay bare my soul, no field for the seeds within my mind to bear flower.

Then, as I despair most, they come unbidden and whole from within me.

Words, the paint that colors man's tapestry from centuries past. The whole of humanity's experience that give meaning to life and love and desire and pain flow from me.

Then comes the fear. Fear of acceptance, of rejection. Who will read, why will they read . . .will they want to read. Yet does it matter? Though it shouldn't, it does. Fear. It is the killer of dreams, the torturer of dreamers.

Am I a dreamer; are my thoughts the dreams? What vanity makes me believe my words matter; that I matter? Do I? Do they?

Doubt creeps into the darkest corners of my soul. The corners from whence no good comes, where even I fear to peer. It spreads, like a vile disease, devouring hope and dreams.

The words falter, my chi suffers a grievous blow. I am undone.

But am I? A new thought springs anew within.

No, I do not matter; my words and dreams and hopes and desires do not matter.

For they are me whether the world exists or not. My essence flares again as I regain this simple truth. Though I do not matter, nor do my words matter, they are mine nonetheless. And I have no choice but to do what I must to survive. The words must continue to soar forth from me. If they do not, I die. For it is who I am. I can be nothing less than who and what I am.

I am a writer. I have always been a writer. I must always be a writer. For a writer writes because he must, and for no other reason.

And so the words continue, free from the doubt, free from the vanity, pure and complete.

I am at peace.