The NBA, A Gateway to World Harmony Through Dennis Rodman?

Current history dictates the Middle East and North Korea are the biggest threats in the world, and I'm sure their leaders and middle class folk will claim otherwise.

Hall of fame NBA baller Dennis Rodman has been making recent headlines with his frequent trips to North Korea and paling up with North Korea's leader Kim Wong Un. Many Americans claim Rodman is a drunken buffoon. His drunken words that Kenneth Bae deserves to be in a North Korean prison and the fact he is not using his celebrity pull and friendship with Wong Un to help free Bae is not helping Rodman's case for being an upstanding citizen. Rodman has apologized to Bae and his family since his drunken outburst. (http://worldnews.new.nbcnews.com/_news/2014/01/13/22286285-dennis-rodman-apologizes-again-for-failing-to-help-kenneth-bae?lite)

Forty-four-year-old Bae was arrested recently in North Korea for crimes against it's nation. Among the allegations: Bae was setting up bases in China to topple the North Korean government; he was encouraging North Korean citizens to bring down the government; and he was conducting a "malignant smear campaign." according to Chelsea J. Carter's Jan. 7 article, "Who is Kenneth Bae, and why is he in a North Korean prison camp?" (http://www.cnn.com/2014/01/07/us/who-is-kenneth-bae/index.html)

In my opinion it's not Rodman's responsibility, nor any other celebrity to exercise political power. I do agree celebrities should use their influence in a positive way to sway justice in the political arena, but the facts are clouded in Bae's case. Maybe Bae does deserve to be imprisoned. If Bae is indeed imprisoned for the above allegations, then I think he should be a free man. One thing is clear to me, if you live in a communist country, you better choose your public words carefully and exercise your individual beliefs privately.

How can professional basketball bring peace to the planet? In reality nothing can beget world peace because humans for the most part are still primitive beings, technology wise extremely advanced, but sad to say in general we all lack meaningful soul. So much mind on the matter, the spirit gets forgotten about Neil Peart wrote for the Rush song "Grand Designs" in 1985.

I think Rodman bringing American basketball to North Korea is awesome. Sports are a fantastic outlet for world unity. The Olympics have been going on since the Greek era and wars were halted for Olympic events, so sports are a good thing in my mind.

Wong Un like his deceased father Kim Jong-il is an ecstatic fan of the NBA. Jong-il even had and autographed basket ball from NBA hall of famer Michael Jordan. The NBA regular season starts in November of every year and ends in June. In simple terms, the U.S. only has four months to worry about North Korea striking U.S. soil with missiles.

If the NBA, because of Rodman or any other representative from the league can bring any type of positive unity between the U.S. and North Korea, I'm all for it.

How can Rodman be friends with someone as nefarious as Wong Un some may state? Wong Un has made headlines recently when he had his uncle Jang Song Thaek execute for crimes against the state.

In a Hong Kong newspaper, Wen Wei Po, Wong Un had his uncle stripped naked and fed to a 120 hungry dogs. The Wen Wei Po news paper had no sources to the heavy claims according to the Jan. 3 article, "Did Kim Jong Un Feed His Uncle To 120 Dogs? Be Skeptical" by Mark Memmott. (http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2014/01/03/259386090/did-kim-jong-un-feed-his-uncle-to-120-dogs-be-skeptical)

Wong Un may indeed be and evil soul, after all he is a political leader, but the U.S. government is anything but saintly. How many Middle East women and children have been killed by U.S. drone missiles since the 90s and perhaps many decades earlier?

I'm not praising Rodman's friendship with Wong Un, but bringing the NBA to North Korea is a good thing.

Death II

 Mom

 

                                    Watered eyes and another sleepless night. On this

day one phrase in the bible is embedded in my mind.

                                    “Jesus wept.” All the lives you left your mark upon,

I feel the way you would.

When you left us your great grandchildren Whitney,

Alex, and Brandon were still preschoolers. At the time

they were too young to understand heaven, hell, and

all that my be in between. Sometimes all I want to do

is cry, then cry some more. Indeed the world is a

lesser place without you.

Mother’s day is officially the worst day of the year.

In a morose way Brooke is very lucky. She was yet to be

born upon your death. Brooke will never cry because

she misses you. Then again she will never know how

truly funny and inspirational you were. You touch many

hearts with words of wisdom and feeling. You made us

laugh time and time again. Tonight and many other

nights your spawn and friends will cry you a river to be evaporated into paradise.

Paradise; the waiting grounds for eternity in the bliss.

The dwelling den of the soulfully rich and heat felt

opulent. Paradise is where your heart beats steady

and your soul Runs free…….                          

Mark N Schurr / Neil Peart

 

 

Dad

 

            Joyful emotions have been swept away by  your

                                    death. Your passing has caused emptiness and

grief to shroud love and laughter today. I embrace

your souls yesterday. Yesterday, a metaphor for

the past. A past in which you thrust your wisdom

upon us. Yesterday your robust presence spawned

a family and instilled a passionate spirit yearning for

a world that ought to be. I remember how we

laughed and drank to Laurel and Hardy. Yesterday

was fantastic. Today’s tears are tomorrow’s laughter.     

Goodbye dad. 

                                                    Mark N Schurr

Farewell Ali, Revisited From January, 2014

Ali was for all intensive purposes my step daughter from the time she was 4-years-old till she was six. I remember the day like it was yesterday when Ali, her neighbor Randi and Randi's younger sister Michaela were with me at the Cedarwood Apartment complex swimming pool early one Saturday afternoon. One of the neighbors asked the girls to quiet down. Really? At 1 p.m., maybe 2 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon, your asking two 5-year-olds and a 4-year-old to be quiet in a public place. Petty stuff indeed. 

Dozens of times over an entire summer I was fortunate to witness little Ali Bear and her two next door neighbor pals laughing and having fun at the tenant swimming pool. Just added to my bucket list, a video camera rolling as me and several little girls are in front of the camera and doing nothing but laughing hysterically. 

From the years 2000-2004 I was a preschool teacher at the YWCA, A Special Place and three months before Ali was 3-years-old, she joined our school. Before she turned 4-years-old she was one of eight children in my group of kids, 'The Brown Bears.' Her smile back then was just as infectious from the above photo. 

The picture below features the two sister Randi and Michaela who used to swim with Ali bear. Their brother Nathan was not even born yet, this picture was taken 2-years after the the summer of laughs.  

Debby was gracious enough to give me Ali's last high school picture, her bracelet and her stuffed bunny rabbit. Obviously, the picture of Ali on the rabbits is not her junior year high school photo.

Again I thank Debby for giving me those things that once belonged to Ali who was a huge part of my life for three years. Suddenly she was gone of all the life's she left her mark upon...





Shrouded in doubt and caught in an onslaught of wondrous despair, left to ponder why for the rest of my life.

In July of 2009, I spent a whole month at Debby and Joe's place in Nevada when Ali was 12-years-old. One day, Ali and I took Irene, (my Saturn) out for a spin with their family dog in one of the many deserts of Nevada. I allowed Ali to drive while I sat in the passenger seat. Her step dad Joe must have taken Ali out driving many times, because she was a very good driver. I was only nervous once when Ali drove the green dragon up a large one lane hill and it dead ended, I taught Ali to make a 'y' turn. At one point I honestly thought the two of us were going to crash down the very steep hill. My inside emotions were frantic, but on the outside, I knew better then to freak her out, so calm (outwardly) 

"Hit the breaks," I said.

She took direction extremely well, was able to back Irene up without taking us down the other side of the hill, and slowly, but surely Ali bear made the 'y' turn and the both of us made it back to civilization unscathed.  Ali told on herself and Debby gave me an ear full for letting Ali drive, and Ali defended me by claiming I was good driving teacher.

"Mark doesn't yell and scare me when I'm driving like you do mom," Ali said.

The selfish side of me sees only the evils in the world; endless political corruption, the realization of only death and taxes, joy dominated by hopelessness and the unrelenting facts that I'll never share a laugh with Ali ever again. Ali's smile was infectious from the first time I saw her when she was just three-years-old.

As a sole entity with no immediate family of my own I sometimes have dark visions of Mother Nature getting so disgusted with the human race, she showers the entire planet with acid rain and meteors the size of mountains until every last human is gone forever. It's my only explanation why people as sweet and lovable as Ali are taken away, so she doesn't have to witness her own death as Mother Nature rids this beautiful planet of money, greed, power and rap music. I'm ashamed to be human right now.

Whew, I've vented some. The above mention of Mother Nature wiping out the entire human race was derived from some of my dark poetry written in the 90s which one of my then friends titled "Dark Mark."

Ali's step dad Joe Wyatt said Ali was looking to harness a scholarship to college playing soccer and that she wanted to be a psychologist in a mental institution. Who knows, If things would have worked out, I just might have been Ali's first patient.

Suicide Kids

Diversity, laughter, love, peace and harmony are often shrouded in the endless realities of prejudice, sorrow, hate and war.

Because large government in any part of the world has no interest in the good will of human kind, the world will never be a place that truly ought to be. World leaders interests are driven on power, keeping it and expanding its powers where ever possible.

Religious and many other extreme fundamentalist who insist on thrusting their beliefs on others are too often funded by large government. I don't know exactly how it works, but it's based on money and the false promise of Heaven, Paradise, Valhalla, Nirvana or any other name for the 'good' after life.

It's evil enough to be a fully grown adult and blow up innocent civilians including women and children along with yourself. Some people do this because they blindly follow their government. Other suicide bombers do it because words in an ancient book dictated how to think, feel and believe. Blinded individuality and wisdom caused by the outdated Bible has lead to the needless slaughter of children as young as six.

Last year Afghan police intercepted 41 children between six and 11-years-old whom insurgents were planning to use as suicide bombers according to the article "Afghan Girl Says She Was Sent on a Suicide Mission" http://www.cnn.com/2014/01/07/world/asia/afghanistan-girl-suicide-mission/index.html by Masou Popalzai and Mariano Castillod written on Jan. 7.

Using children as young as six for suicide bombing in the Middle East has been going on since 2007 according to Mia Bloom and John Horgan's article; "New Terror Weapon: Little Girls?" also written on Jan. 7. http://www.cnn.com/2014/01/07/opinion/bloom-horgan-afghanistan-girl/index.html

Suicide bombers will continue to get younger because it's easier to get children to believe in what is intangible and unrealistic, such as ludicrous afterlife promises. Islamic leaders promise 72 virgins for male suicide bombers.

Muslim scholars claim female martyrs who had multiple husbands on Earth will get to choose the best one in the afterlife. These women will also be beautiful, happy and satisfied to be with only one man eternally. Their husbands affections to them will never stray (aside from 72 virgin women) according to Denise Chow's March, 2010 article "What Does Islamic Faith Promise Martyrs?" http://www.livescience.com/6237-islamic-faith-promise-martyrs.html

The Bible states fornication is wrong, yet many religious zealots using the Bible as a guideline say it's OK to have 72 virgin women as your personal sex slaves if you murder others while killing yourself in the process who simply don't think and believe like you. How Christian like to brain wash and manufacture suicide killing children.

Death

Death can claim anyone at anytime, but it cannot wash away marvelous memories of laughter and love.

Although I had not seen 17-year-old Alondra (Ali) in five years, her delectable presence saturated my soul with sheer happiness for several years. When I was teaching at the YWCA, A Children's Place in the early 2000s, I had the privilege of teaching and caring for her for two years.

Alondra was in many groups during her two years at A Children's Place, including The Green Growing Things, Purple Dinosaurs, Yellow Sunflowers and ended up in my group, the Brown Bears. One specific moment embed itself into the deepest core of my memory bank.

During free play outside, Ali was one of the children seated in the large sand pit with several other children. I was kicking a soccer ball straight up in the air as high as I could and catching it, or at least trying to. One of my kicks was way out of range of catching the ball, but still very high in the air. The soccer ball hit Ali square on the top of the head.

Instead of tears and maybe a bruise on the head, which I expected, she just turned around mildly surprised as if someone had gently tapped her on the shoulder. When I apologized to her she nonchalantly smiled and continued to play with the other children.

Taking Ali and her friend's to the swimming pool at the then apartment complex was always a joy. Laughing preschool eyes and joyous shouts of gratification as she and her friend's constantly got out of the pool to jump back in again always put a smile on my face.

I dated Ali's mother for about a year and half, thus I got to spent a lot of time with her. From the time Ali was 3-6-years-old I was a regular in her life. To this day Debby and I are still friends. I helped Debby and her husband move to Nevada. I just wish I would have visited Debby and Joe a lot more than I did. When Ali was 12-years-old I spent about a month at Debby and Joe's house.

While at Debby and Joe's during that time, I reminded myself of "The Thing That Wouldn't Leave," a 70s Saturday Night Live skit in which John Belushi, portrayed a single man at a married couples house who refused to take a hint and over stayed his welcome.

Debby and Joe seemed to tolerate my presence very well, even capitalizing on it by taking a couple weekend trips to Reno, Nev. leaving me with the kids. Debby's son William was in high school at the time, so he required little if any supervision. Ali and I spent lots of nights watching kid movies including "Matilda," "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants", the Harry Potter movies, and several others.

The most fun I had with Ali at that time was letter her drive Irene, (my green Saturn Vue) in the desert of Fernley, Nev. She was a great driver for any age, let alone being a 12-year-old. Obviously Joe must have taken her out on a lot of drives himself.

Ali gave me one good scare when she got to the top of a steep hill and she had to make a Y-turn because the path was too narrow for a U-turn. As Ali was making the Y-turn, she started to panic and said where going to go off the edge, and I thought the same for a brief moment. Inside I was panicked, but outwardly I was calm and told her to brake, (she did) and put the car in reverse. With my sagacious coaching, she made an excellent Y-turn which had little room for error. An error may have sent us both off the steep hill.

Initially I drove off with Ali and the family dog with strict orders from Debby to not allow her to drive. Ali told on herself when we got back, and Debby gave me an ear full, and I assured Debby that Ali drove great. Debby said Ali scares her when she drives. Ali said to her mom that I was a lot calmer than her as a passenger.

"Mark doesn't yell or scare me like you do mom when I drive," Ali said.

After life or no, heaven or hell, the simple fact remains, even though I haven't seen Ali in half a decade, my life is a lot emptier with her untimely death. The passing of my father in January 2013 also shrouded my soul with gloom and tears, but with his death it was easier to embrace life again. My dad was 90-years-old and the night he died, he was in his bedroom in bed surrounded by most of his children, grandchildren, two of his great grand children and some very loving in laws.

My mom was 72-year-old, falling victim to leukemia in 1994. Yes, her live was too short, but she passed in the same conditions as my father. Days before my mom passed, she was in the hospital and was extremely adamant about wanting to get home and she did. What is really sad about my moms passing is that she never got to meet Brook, her great granddaughter, while my dad at least got to witness Brook getting to high school.

Of course my world would be a lot better with my mom and dad still in it, but in the big picture of life, they truly lived; marriage, witnessing there children becoming adults and to spend quality time with their children, grandchildren and some of their great grand children.

I can't even phantom what Debby is going through. My life is empty right now because of the few years I got to laugh with Ali. Now and forever just as the loss of my parents, Ali's absence without return has thrust an emptiness in my heart that will never return.

...until our final breath while our loving Watchmaker loves us all to death, Neil Peart wrote in 2012.

A Modern Moron Memoir

Wasted youth thrust into the pit of middle age caught in a wonderment of happiness despite having done nothing with my existence.

In my offal youth no adherence to goals or wisdom has landed myself in a void stream, complete with no tangible love, meaning or purpose. My awesome family and friends give me reason to laugh and bask in the entertainment of books, sports, comedy, news and "Rush," my favorite band. I'm still not working steady enough to afford the video equipment I need (want) to film and upload foolish videos I've written.

I'm just a boring old fool who day dreams about vast riches and living alone in a moderate sized RV. Because I completed three years of college (way to late!) doing journalism for a living is no longer in my deck of life. If I was extremely wealthy, I'd spent most of my money on local schools and bringing back the human element into job interviews.

Last year I literally had to compete with 25 other people to be a sole dish washer at Olivers Market. Thank the powers that be for Labor Ready. Pass a drug test and say yes to work; presto, I can pay my bills, because of Labor Ready.

All I want for myself material wise is modern video and still photography equipment, to live in an RV and travel the U.S. for months if not years at a time. Share the occasional weekend with family and friends and this simple soul is set. To spend the evening with a drink and a friend Neil Peart wrote in 1987.

Against doctors orders, I'm making another appointment to donate platelets again. It's been three months since my last donation. My doctor told me not to donate for six months. The blood bank is happy with six donation a year, I've topped more than 14 donations per year since 2010.

I donated plasma more then 60 times in 2010 while living in Utah. Donating depletes your iron, but just slightly. In September my doctor said my iron was low. Due to some cancers and accidents, some peoples life's depend on others blood, plasma and platelets.

I'm way over due for reading again and researching real news stories to write about. I'd write a review of the new "Rush, Clockwork Angels Tour," but I'm way to biased to write an open minded review. In the world of journalism, it's a conflict of interest. I also could never write a review of an Eminem concert. Without seeing a second of footage or hearing a single note from Eminem, my review would start out something like this: The soulless noise and vulgar lyrics displayed how musically retarded(c) rap music really is. I've heard better sounds from a baby banging on pots and pans with a large metal spoon.

If I ever wanted to write an article how a filthy minded second grade boy thinks, reading Eminem lyrics would be the perfect words for the research. If I live to be 2000-years-old and never hear one of  Eminem's vastly uneducated and simple songs, I would be quite content.

Life is short, get a woman (lover) before your 30, stay in shape, get rich, help others and laugh.