French fries and their taint...

I'm going to need anyone who bothers to read this to stay with the entire thing, it'll all be perfectly clear at the end. I refused to put this on Facebook mostly because of length, but also because I get tired of drama there. Moving on...

 Two days ago upon returning home from work one of my tires went flat due to an alignment issue that can never be properly repaired. This in itself is a stressful experience for a man in my position. I have four children and a wife to maintain on half an income. An incredibly meager income I might add, but anyways. I spent most of that day back at my house and in somewhat of a tizzy regarding a personal matter directly linked to my finances. It was a rather rough day. During which my lovely wife was trucking about town with three kids in a car with a donut and no cell phone because I'm an asshole. Fortunately they were all fine and dandy and returned home without a problem. So finally I wind down and go to bed. I may have gotten four hours of sleep that afternoon before waking up to go to work.

 Still with me? I hope so....

During work that night I accepted all kinds of suggestions as to where I should go for cheap tires, most of my choices lied in the city of Lakeland, maybe 15 miles away, I dunno, google it. I finished my job that night surprisingly early so I opted to go home and surprise my wife. That all turned out pretty well and was quite possibly the only good part of what turned out to be a shitty day. My wife Rainbow didnt get a whole lotta sleep herself that night so it caused a degree of irritability on both our parts. Nonetheless we rope our three kids (Please note that my fourth child stays with his mother) so three kids one of them being a six month old child and paced them all in our car to head towards lakeland for what shouldve been a thirty minute to an hour affair. Much to our collective dismay it turned into at least a two hour fiasco of driving to three or four different tire places before finally settling for one that ended up being 10 minutes from my house. During this hubbub my kids, Rainbow and I decided we were hungry coupled with the the screaming infant it became quite a fuckaroo. In our haste to appease everyone and given our limited finances we dropped in to a nearby McDonald's for something quick, not a meal, because we have all that at home, but something to keep our stomachs busy. Two small fries, two chicken sandwiches and a large sprite totaled to a little over five dollars, which is actually not in our price range, but you do what you must when things get hectic.

 Now pay attention because we're getting into the reason I've bothered to write this in the first place.

Gabriel is six months old, youngest and last of my children, and he is blossoming wonderfully, Crawling, growing and eating. It's a joy to watch all of this happen. Most particularly the food part, my first born and second of my four kids has extremely picky nature regarding food, we're working on it though. Gabriel however eats anything an infant is allowed to eat at his age given restraints regarding manual dexterity, low control of his throat muscles, and lack of teeth. Everything he eats has to be somewhat mushy. The prospect of not having a picky eater thrills me. Gabriel's mother Rainbow doing what she has done with her other two children sticks mostly to breast feeding but has begun to supplement Gabriel's diet by pureeing produce we buy at the grocery store. In extreme cases he gets a jar of baby food when time doesnt allow Rainbow to make his food. I think that this is a fantastic way to do things given the motivation and resources.

Ahem.... We gave the children their small bag of fries and ate our sandwiches. They were about as good as I expected them to be given that they are 99 cents. We decided that now would be a fantastic opportunity to see if our son would eat a french fry. Just one. Of course he gobbled it up. We took a picture of this moment because we take pictures of our son nearly everyday and subject our friends on Facebook to them daily as well. So we're back at home, noting particularly eventful happened after that so I went to bed, it was probably three or so before I fell asleep.

If you've made it this far I'm quite pleased the story portion is almost over...

Gabriel is quite enamored with his mother, so much so that he rarely gives her a moment to herself without carrying on loudly. This is a source of frustration, but one we're capable of dealing with. I'm accustomed to coming out of my bedroom at roughly 8:30pm to see kids doing what kids do and Gabriel screaming his brains out while his poor tired mother prepares dinner. Tonight was slightly different because Rainbow spent a very good deal of time arguing back and forth with an old friend of mine about the perils of french fries. Oh, and the hormones associated with the monthly hemorrhaging of uterine blood from her nether-regions. Rainbow was quite distraught over the ordeal as she viewed my friend's dialogue as an attack on her ability to raise children. I read the entire thing and I really do get both points of view. My friend was trying to get the point across that french fries are toxic and linked to many types of illness including cancer. He demonstrated his point by referring to a study that further seemingly proved his point. I absolutely do not approve of his disrespectful methods to which I intend to address soon, but for the sake of the story I'm going to continue. My wife and many others who are her friends made the point that people have been eating these things for years and all it's done is made people fat. Which is common sense logic and while it may prove later on that it is fallacious, right now it's good enough for the mother of my child and matriarch of the household. That was the basic gist of the whole argument with lots of one person calling another person stupid and another calling the other side obsessed. I opted to not chime in immediately mostly because I had to be at work and I needed time to do other things.

What happens after that doesnt matter, I spent all night throwing around bags of dog food... typical walmart stuff.

If you've managed to read through that entire deal without closing the window and giving up I will now present my retort, this is the good part in my opinion or it is the reason I even bothered to write the whole set up.

Here goes.... I don't give two flying shits about the contents of McDonalds french fries. That's the short version. Just like hot dogs, I know what's in them and I eat them anyway it doesn't bother me at all. I have read the facts as noted by my friend and while it's probably true I'm going to explain why I still just don't care.

In the pantheon of things that I'm responsible for and the things as a father I have to worry about, french fries are easily at the bottom three things of my quite extensive list of dangers. I akin the french fry danger to cellphone usage giving us tumors or standing too close to a microwave and all sorts of other "dangers" that have never really done a significant damage to our population. I literally just googled "deaths related to french fries" and the most that shows up deals with fat content and heart disease, Two things that also are low on my list of concerns. Here's some of my real concerns:

-Homelessness: This one is a very real scenario for us because without the help of my best friend this is exactly what would occur. I mean I'm sure there's other methods, but this one is what's working.

-Eating in general: I make DICK financially, what little I make I contribute as much as I can sparing car insurance, gas and sundries. Food is provided by the State of Florida through their program. This upsets me to no end because it really screws with my "provider" role that I'm supposed to play

-Maintaining employment: Isn't as rough as one may think because I'm fantastic at my crappy job. But I have to work at it and show up and such so yeah....

-Maintaining transportation: Keeping up with my wife's vehicle and insuring it lasts till we can afford a new one. Granted I'm not allowed to drive because of some financial obligations, we get by with Rainbow carting us EVERYWHERE.

-Dangers in my house to my infant son: He crawls now and for the life of me I can't get my hard headed children to understand they can't leave small things on the floor. I scour Gabriel's play area several times a day to make sure he can't pick anything small up and choke on it.

-Keeping Momma happy: Because if she's not... no one else will be. -Public school related issues: Like poor education, bullying, etc...

-Dangerous flora and fauna of central Florida, child predators, alien invaders, home invaders, domestic terrorists, foreign terrorists, oppressive government, religious fanatics, religious anything, watching shitty kids shows, nerf herders, aggressive advertising campaigns, zionists, internet policing, world bankers, local bankers, people with terrible body odor...etc...etc...: No brainers here.

This is a small sampling of things that I really deal with. Parenting takes up a great deal of time so much that I don't do anything for myself or with my wife hardly at all. That's not a complaint, I'm happy to do this job because I worked hard to get here, I went through hell for a while and was not capable of being a father to even my own son, much less three more kids. Suffice it to say that if I spend time worrying about every single thing that is potentially dangerous to my kids I would literally have to close them in a room, make my own bread, and feed the bread and water daily. The bread is even questionable, actually the water could be to. I think someone needs to continue the fight over fluoridated water. Actually lets just research regular water, eventually we will find some kook scientist who could make the case that even OXYGEN is a carcinogen and holy fucking shit STOP BREATHING!!!! Oxygen is flammable ya know....

Am I making it clear? I really do get it. The reality is this: Even if I wanted to feed my kids french fries I literally can't afford to. It's bad when McDonalds is a luxury. Where I live I can't grow a crop to ensure my kids eat completely natural food, such is my lot at the moment. Fuckin' A I can't even afford "organic" food. Has anyone considered that just maybe it's the same thing with a different label and a higher price tag? Let's get into this.... Let's say this stuff is better for you. Why is it more expensive? Maybe it takes a great deal to make it, I'm not sure but I know one thing, food that's not "organic" is considerably closer to my price range. I simply can't afford the lifestyle. Which in itself could actually be a way for rich people to continue to kill poor people slowly, simply make healthy food more expensive. Here's one more thing, my walmart employee discount covers all manner of junk food, but not legitimate food you have to prepare and serve. Why?

 I got off subject but I'm wrapping it up now. Fallacious thinking or not I'm gonna do what I gotta do to feed my kids, a french fry treat once a month, while potentially hazardous, in my opinion is worth the risk. If this is a problem, make your own kid and good luck making him eat what you do.

That's basically it. If you made it to the end you get four internets and a cheesy grin in person from yours truly.

Holy crap, I wrote a blog!

It's been a while, Internet. I've spent a good long time on the bad side of poverty and unable to afford much internet. That being said I should cover a few things that have occurred. 1: I impregnated and assisted in delivering my second biological child. Yep. I named him Gabriel Steven Wade and he truly is a sight to behold. Unfortunately it seems he's going to be cursed with my terrible looks. But if he's anything like me, I'm sure he'll blossom sometime after the age of thirty. I'm excited about having a second chance at raising one of my own. I missed a lot of things with my first born son, Isaac, after his mother left me when he was a year old. I don't intend on getting into any of that though. Suffice it to say I'm elated and I couldn't be happier for my wife, Rainbow. 2: I moved the entire Wade family back to my turf in central Florida. It was a move of necessity. I absolutely loved southeast Georgia, but there are things that needed our attention here in Florida. Mainly my son, Isaac, our phone conversations had become shorter and he seemed more distant. I refuse to let my son forget about me. He means too much to this family and myself. The welcoming committee here in Florida has been amazing and Rainbow, while being terribly homesick, feels at ease here. After a week of absolute chaos we seem to be going full speed towards whatever the future has in store. 3: I started a book: Then suddenly all motivation and inspiration to keep going got lost in the shuffle. I really feel like the premise and plot of the book would be compelling too. I don't know if I've just been too busy, or too trapped between a rock and a hard place, or just mentally exhausted from everything. I just can't get moving... It's like being positive your hose is on top of a gold mine, but someone stole your pickaxe. I need a new Pickaxe... I'm sure there's a lot more, but anyone who reads this will just have to accept this paltry offering of a blog for the moment. Look out for more in the near future, I'm sure something will irritate me...

Bathtub reveries (part of Atheism and me?)

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Atheism and me. Part I beginnings.

Atheism blog.

I've put off writing this blog for a very long time for a couple of reasons that I aim to cover as I go along. I'm going to try to be as coherent as possible and not spiral into ranting madness, like I've been known to do. If you think you can hang around and read for a while, I'll be sure to inform you of why I've chosen faithlessness, and the steps leading up to this decision. 

I was born to a Christian family, the majorly of them as far as I know believe in Yahweh and his earthly manifestation, Jesus. This has worked for them forever, and I'm glad that that's the path they most enjoy. 

My mother never forced any of us to go to church, not because she didn't believe, because she does, but because she has never liked her experiences in church, she's quoted various hypocrisies and such as her reasons. I think to a degree that kept at least myself pretty level headed over the issue. Most of my church going in my younger years was done when I had visits with my favorite aunt and uncle. My uncle committed his life to working for god at a young age. So anytime I went to stay with them, which was often, I had to go to church on Sunday. I don't remember a whole lot about it, I can't recall having a significant amount of fun there. But I mean this was when I was small. 8ish? It's unclear at the moment. 

When I got into middle school we were visited by a youth group from a local church, they had their own van and had absolutely no qualms with driving way out to pick us up if we were inclined to go. One of the girls in this visiting group was a girl I was quite fond of. I won't forget that day. Anyways, as enamored as I was with her I decided it'd be cool to go church, at least then I'd get to see her regularly. So my first conscious foray into church going was simply to chase a female. A formula for any endeavor in my life even up until today. Doing things for women, I mean. I went to that church for a couple of years, i had several different girlfriends thanks to the gig. And I think a part of me wanted to believe it all. It was mostly all taken as fact because belief in god was something that was instilled in me by my family. I was saved shortly after my first visit to this local church, interestingly enough by the father of the girl whom I had initially went to the church just to see. Her father gave a big talk about being previously hooked on drugs and such, and that when Christ comes into your heart he forgives you of sin, and replaces such vices with joy and love. I wasn't concerned with any of that, I mainly just felt guilty and I didn't want all the other kids to think I was a tool for not voluntarily getting saved. I dont recall ever feeling an overwhelming joy at any of these events, including my baptismal. The feelings that were described by others I was unable to feel myself. I had always thought that that was weird, but it seemed awkward to question any of it.

As I transitioned into high school I started rejecting Christianity in a rebellious fashion. Holding an atheist idea to a degree but more from the stance that I just completely disliked religion in general. My current viewpoints will be tackled later, I'm trying to maintain a steady thought process. Anyways, I hated god about as much as any moody, angsty goth kid of the late nineties. I figure it was all for show in retrospect. But this is around where things got even more complex...

Due to some unfortunate circumstances in my home life I spent a short time as a transient of sorts. Albeit a short time. After that I moved out of town to stay with my aunt and uncle. The same aunt and uncle I previously mentioned. My uncle was the pastor of a church up north and they were the only family I was inclined to stay with. It was a change of pace for sure, I expected to not have to attend church for every service, but my uncle insisted that I did. After a few months I was pretty used to everyone that attended and they became like an extended family to me. I was only slightly forced to play the drums in church, mostly because I picked it up ok, and my cousin was tired of their current drummer. Over the course of the few short years I was there, I embraced the life, though I only believed it halfheartedly. I've always been one to do my own thing, even through use of hypocrisies, Behaving one way at school and another at home. 

In a need to feel accepted i went further into belief. The church was a Pentecostal church, if you're not familiar, google it. Though anyone reading this should already be familiar. We went on a youth retreat of sorts for a weekend once. You do activities, get prayed up. Talk about love of god, etc... The last night of the retreat things were going really well. People were getting worked up, as pentecostal people tend to do, so I decided to give it a shot and try to wholeheartedly pray for forgiveness. My church group in particular noticed me at the altar doing my thing and crowded around me to pray as well. Oddly this filled me with an uncontrollable rage that built up slowly and manifested itself about five minutes after they gathered. Its sort of a mystery to myself, but the others being young and headstrong were convinced I was possessed by a demon of sorts. I dunno if I was or not, in hindsight I'm inclined to think I wasn't, But I was definitely not in the right frame of mind for that sorta thing. I worked out a great deal of energy in what seemed like thirty minutes of thrashing about. Lots of crying and anguish etc... When that was all over we all wandered to bed, got up and left the next day. I can't really say I felt different afterwards. I outwardly expressed that I did to others, but maybe I was just being an attention whore. I think that I really did want to believe. I made the effort, I even prayed for faith, because that's the sorta thing you're supposed to do apparently when you're having a hard to buying into it all, but that didnt really seem to work.

There was another instance where I was being prayed over during a revival and I started acting the fool again. I don't really feel that I had control over it. It pretty much went the same as the last time, me beign enraged, young people trying to cast demons out, so on and so forth.I got through all that at a great expenditure of energy. Afterwards the visiting preacher to our church sat down with me in an attempt to explain why I was being the way I was. His explanation was that the over zealous youth weren't necessarily praying a demon out of me, but misunderstanding signs and praying a demon INTO me. O.o <<< that was my face when I was told that. 

After a bit of time, a cousin of mine took a day of the week when we had no church to start his own weekly service. This put the amount of times I was going to church at about three, four depending. One Sunday before these services had debuted he was preaching instead of my uncle. We did the usual playing of music followed by fire and brimstone preaching and a subsequent music session to guilt people into repentance. When out of the blue he claims that god has told him that I, mark wade, was called to preach. You see in the Pentecostal community you don't really get to just tryout for that sorta thing. I mean you can, but to be taken seriously you have to have the calling... Now whether or not this calling was legitimate or not at the time was left up to whoever happened to hear it that day. My little 17 year old brain was barely comprehensive of such things, but being the good little soldier I was I rolled with the punches. Before you start thinking that 17 is a bad time to start preaching, you also have to understand at that time many young people were obtaining fame for their love of god and their willingness to spread the word. Our youth pastor himself was only 19 and was and no doubt still is a great preacher. Preachers talents are gauged by being able to work a crowd, don't let the sanctimonious part fool you. From my experience it's just another show, Even if the performing monkey is unaware that that's he's an unwilling participant. 

So I was scheduled an evening to preach. The first service I did was pretty good. From what I remember. Not a huge turnout, but when you're doing a service on an odd night of the week, I think it was Thursday's,  you can't expect much. I don even remember what I preached about. I know it wasn't long, and my cousin came in after and supplemented it with his own. My uncle didn't attend. I never did figure out why, but I sorta figured he didn't agree with it. Or at least that's how I felt. This feeling was reinforced on the second and final time I took to the pulpit. I didn't even pick a topic, or even read. I guess for some reason or another I thought I had some sorta hotline to god and what was needed to be said would just pop into my head magically. I suppose my relatives and other preachers made it look easier than it actually is. So once I finally got up to the pulpit to deliver, I had nothing. I Broke down and cried in front of probably not even twenty people. Of course crying in a Pentecostal church is almost an expectation, so everyone rolled with it. That was when I stopped trying to be something I wasn't. 

I got lazier about doing anything church wise. Pursuing whatever fancied my short attention span. Mostly playsation and when I was fortunate, a girlfriend. In my senior year I met a girl who would completely throw me for a loop and challenge me in every way possible. We connected quickly, and I was hooked on her solid. I'd do virtually anything for her at the time. I should maybe stow that story away for another day, as it's not really pertinent at all to this particular blog. Soon after I finished high school, doing whatever I really felt like doing, I decided to move back to Florida. That was really the extent of my church going after that. My first wife went through a Christian phase after a bad trip on nitrous, but managed to recover eventually. As badly as she wanted to commit to god at the time, I had pretty much gave up on the idea that Christian living, belief or not, was not for the likes of me. But this wasn't really when I had lost faith at all. I still believed to some degree, though I was of the opinion that supernatural forces were against me. 

I think around my divorce is when what little faith I had started waning....

Continued whenever....

Why I refuse to sign "Caylee's law"

There's a big hullabaloo the past few days surrounding the acquittal of Casey Anthony, who was accused of murdering her three year old? daughter, Four? I dunno, Tiny girl-child. Anyways the nation is up in arms naturally because everyone is convinced that Casey Anthony did it. Whether or not she actually did will probably never be revealed except by the few that actually know, or even Casey herself. Me? I'm inclined to think that she did do it. But in all honesty I'm not going to get into that at all. All those angles were covered by the media, whose sole purpose was to smear this person. The negative publicity garnered from this fiasco is exactly what has prompted caring parents and U.S. citizens to dream up this knee jerk reaction law, "Caylee's Law" The knee jerk response is my primary reason for not signing this law. The website puts it as such, "Caylee's Law, contact your Senator and Representative: there should be a new federal law created called Caylee's Law that will make it a federal offense for a parent or guardian to not notify law enforcement of a child going missing in a timely manner."

This in itself is far too vague. Especially with regards to divorced parents. If a mother lets her kid stay with her dad and dad keeps the child longer than what was originally planned, is it wrong of the mother to wait an extra week to see how it goes down? Perhaps dad went on an extended trip without his cell phone. Maybe he killed and ate her, do we still punish mom in that case as well? I mean this is just one what if. If i really felt inclined to think more about it, I'm sure I could think of different instances where an innocent parent can be thrown in jail over a misunderstanding.

People that are for less government should really look at this harder as well. You know what other knee jerk reaction laws have really screwed us over? Prohibition. and more recently the patriot act. I don't know about you, but I don't need a law to govern something that's common fucking sense. Just because one idiotic bitch cant call the cops doesn't mean we're all suddenly culpable. It really takes the "innocent until proven guilty" and rubs its nose in shit. Maybe I'm crazy. Actually, I am. But I really think that people should wait about a month or so after cooler heads have prevailed and sit down and work this thing out properly. Maybe I've chosen the wrong law to stand against in my tirade against government control. But to use a quote from mainstream christians against homosexual marriage, "It's a slippery slope" and quite frankly I already feel as though state and federal governments are already way too far up our asses about how we raise our children. So nope, no "Caylee's law" for this savage.....

The end is nigh.... every effin' day....

I'm exhausted by all the end-time prophecy. Wars and earthquakes and misery in general has been going on forever. We just have more ways of finding out about all these things. I'm sorry if it de-mystifies your life. I'll do some predicting for you, tomorrow people will be killed, maimed raped and and screwed over. The rich will continue to amass riches and the poor will scrape by and hopefully survive to see another sunset. I will love my family and do what I can to keep our ship sailing forward. As cool as it would be to receive help from some metaphysical entity that is purportedly in control, I will not waste any time asking for it. It's hard to scream from beneath the mire and be heard and if there's any sort of larger plan that benefits some supreme creator, benevolent or otherwise, this being is going to do whatever it wants to do anyway. Don't mistake that last part as a kernel of faith mind you, I'm merely looping this whole thing back around to the irritant at hand. Vague prophecies are a dime a dozen, ask any Nostradamus enthusiast. Ask Pat Robertson, he's probably got another doomsday date, but is too scared to fail again. Don't cancel your insurance plans just yet, that's certainly not what Jesus would do.


Buy your weeks worth of groceries, make plans to see your dentist. Make an appointment to have your prostate checked. Invest in a start-up company, because before you came around and discovered that your book had warned you about signs of the times, there were thousands or even millions of people before you that insisted that they too were in end-times. Perhaps the ending of the world is something as simple as just the ending of your life. Where your automatic functions cease and your mind embraces sweet oblivion. If the rest of us move on don't worry, you won't feel a thing one way or another. I'll end by quoting Mark Twain:


"I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it."

No, you're not a bitch, just an idiot....

We live in a varied society. People of all types of creeds, colors, and cultures live amongst us and interact with us daily. If you leave your house, chances are you have to deal with people. Whether it's at work, school, or the store... or any other place, be they family, friends or complete strangers. So what I aim to bitch about today will certainly hit home. You'll either relate to my story, or you'll identify with it because this personality type just happens to be the one you possess...

I've had the misfortune in life of having to deal with the self-proclaimed "bitch" multiple times in my short time on earth. I've even dealt with the self-proclaimed "asshole", the male gender type of this personality. These people must not be construed with actual bitches or assholes which are just as annoying, but they usually have no control over their impulses....

Self-proclaimed "bitches" run around life with a chip on their shoulder, maybe someone didn't love them enough, I'm not really sure. But they still wanna maintain the capacity to have friends and family that will not completely disown them. As a defense they go ahead and tell you upfront about how big of a bitch they truly are, and usually have some anecdotal reference to sometime in their past that you were not around for. They use this as an implication that if you were to somehow cross them, that you should worry about the consequences. In most cases when backed into a corner these people move into the martyr stance "Why are you picking on me?!" and generally clam up to you, but run around behind your back and shoot their mouths off about how they should've told you off, but spared you. These actions are immature, and completely unwanted by anyone, ever. Most decent folk will just ignore what these people say and quietly laugh to their friends about how big of an idiot these ego-maniacal mendicants actually are.

"Bitches" and "assholes" are the worst sort of coward. One step below the self proclaimed "crazy person" on the ladder of life. "Crazy people" have gone so far as to proclaim their selves bi-polar, but are really just moody. These people usually never even bother to go to a psychiatrist because they're too afraid to find out that there's actually nothing wrong with them, they're just dicks. Some self proclaimed crazy people actually do bother with the mental health field and visit a doctor frequently. They often rail other folks with their mental illness and boast about how they take zoloft or prozac, or any number of other anti-depressants/ anti-psychotics, all in the name of getting some sort of shocked response out of you to work themselves up to bad-ass status. This slightly rarer beast sometimes has anecdotes about their visits to mental health facilities or a concerned family member Baker acting them for three days. Sure, perhaps these people have problems, but is boasting about them and trying to make people fear them really doing anything at all? I say no.

The proper way to deal with all the people that I've chose to rant about today is to confront them. Call them out on their bull-shittery. To simply smile and nod at these fools only leads them to think that you actually buy into their pseudo-lunacy. 80% of the time you'll find that the a fore mentioned persons will walk off with their tail between their legs like the cowards they actually are. But I digress....

People will be quick to note that I've named my blog "Madness Inc." and that I've never been shy about some of the details of my sordid past with various mental health issues. I note the apparent hypocrisy that this blog conveys but I offer this bit of knowledge: I've never used my illnesses, real or trumped up, to instill any sort of fear into another person. In all honesty I do as much as humanly possible to maintain normalcy, and stay off of anyone's radar. It's a daily effort, and if anyone has ever had a reason to worry about me all they need to do is ask me something, anything, and I'll be more than happy to oblige.

If you managed to take any sort of offense to what I've stated today, keep it to yourself. Chew on some xanax and take a nap. I, nor anyone else is scared of your huff n' puff.... while you're out, GET A LIFE! Don't come looking for an apology, there are none in Darth Mizzark's apology jar for you. Have a magical day.