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This post was published to Technocreep at 12:12:20 PM 8/28/2008

GOOGLE NOTES - TWO IRANINES AND A CAT

 

 

 

That’s an interesting screen that popped up there Google.  That you already took me for $120.00 and now you need to Verify my B. Of A Visa.  Pretty stupid looking Google!

I hope you keep with that $200.00 before you ‘give up on me’.  Maybe you should just let it ride up to 20,000 or so if you see (eye) something of value in my Website.

Googads! Isn’t owned by some Fat Guy like the Beefy Knowles of that Clown who’s trying to be Paris Hilton… No Clay is Attractive and 44.  Bachlor.  Gay or something.

Not sure yet, is all!

 

Clay out.

 

 

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

7:53 PM

 


Please verify your bank account.

 

Before you can begin paying by bank account, you must verify your account. You should expect to see a small test deposit appear in your bank account within the next three days. Please check your bank records for this small test deposit, then log in to your AdWords account and enter the amount on your Billing Preferences page.

 

Pasted from <https://adwords.google.com/select/snapshot>

 

Thanks for waiting that '7' days for my payment of $120.00 or something.  Thanks for those overdraft charges, oh about $36 dollars is all.  Well since you paid off now, can I go to the $200 dollars as promised before you charge me?  Or are you going to 'let' that one go as well?  You haven't been very pleasant to me Google.  I am a Commission Junction 'Biggie' you know.  Check my stats.  At any rate I hope you still want my money... I'm just testing you out for a bit is all... I do have a rich daddy somewhere...gay or something!

 

All kidding aside I really hope you can get that 'pic' of the ad on.  It is rather original... public domain, you know... Total Eclipse movie

with him in it.  Just using the kids dick for clicks.... we are adults aren't we?

 

Pretty good star as well.

 

 

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One of my all time favorite memories is when I was with an old friend of mine. Erich Harris was his name, he was black and very gay, but we sure weren’t ‘playing by the rules’ set down for us, by white guys getting married and trying to be Christians!

No we were into stuff you really wouldn’t want to know much about! We had much fun I can assure you, every night we’d travel the gay bars, hustler bars and the homes of Nefarious Drug Dealers, all sorts of “High Roller” stuff. Stuff that you won’t be seeing on dateline or 60 minutes any time soon.

You can bet your life that most of the exciting parts of our lives of the past weren’t anywhere near a television set. Still Me and Mr. Harris had some times that I can’t help but remember fondly. It’s funny but I haven’t seen any of my friends from back then, it’s getting close now to being 20 years in the past. And I did have to ‘Bolt’ from just about every association.

We weren’t ‘thinking’ right. We weren’t much concerned about the future, to us it was just outside the door, we knew it would come crashing through someday, but we knew further that it would take some time to arrive. It did and it took everyone by surprise!

But still, this isn’t about any of that past in particular, I’m just leading up to a new post here on Googads! Love Page, about Modonna! Now Madonna sure did come on strong, and be assured that this ‘lil’ lady wasn’t always so mature in thought and or deed.

I’d been living with Mr. Harris in Pacoima, of all things back when Madonna had her Eroica album out. She also came out with a book in the same vein of that Album. At that time Madonna was double H Huge with gays, as you have named us! And of course, I’m not a Fan of anyone, but I do enjoy a show! So it was cool to actually have someone as very powerful as Madonna, who amazingly stuck to her guns. She didn’t change her viewpoints because of her religion is what I’m saying. I don’t mind that occurring but it is interesting, to me, when it doesn’t happen. It’s not a simple thing to deny that ‘thrust’ as it were. So I knew that Madonna was Legit of course.

Her music was and is cool. I’m with The Doors mostly so you understand that I’m not really into the ‘chick’ scene on the music end. I love a girl that can sing though and of course Madonna was one hot chick back then!

So anyhow, all this was coming to a head during these times when me an Mr. Harris were actually living together. Which didn’t last long, of course! I put my fist through one of his large plate glass windows, if I remember correctly. But that was a bit later, during this time Erich, had just bought her book, which was a very exclusive book even back then, with nudity and Madonna being pretty unhappy. That’s what I knew, of course, that Madonna had really captured my attention for a little while. Her Eroica album was terribly impressive to me. And it wasn’t the grass, of course! Even though we were smoking ‘the finest green’! as the song goes…

So I remember spending some cool days and nights with this Eroica album and with Erich on top of the hill at his house in Pacoima. It was really very nice to have this all to ourselves. Gosh it was fun! One night I’d been putting the moves on Erich, as we’d occasionally have sex, when we couldn’t get a boy for the night, which was all we were really ever doing! We were pretty competitive about it. I made sure to remain discrete mostly, but Erich was just as fun as you’d imagine. We’d dance all night, drugs, drinking just about anything… but anyway, like I said sometime Erich would have sex with me, and boy it sure was hot! But it was actually never enough, I’m not someone who anyone could sleep with more than twice, and I mean way back then! It would be a bit more than you’d be able to imagine.

Still life is all about Fucking, of course… the rest is just ‘unheard of’ when life is good that is! So on this night I’m in my little room off to the side and Erich he walks in completely nude. Dios The Devil! What a hot tight nigger ass and such a big dick! Smooth and Silky. Very amazing to not be black and suddenly be ‘thrust’ upon with such a wonderous sight! It was hot sex for just a bit, of course, but then Erich and I really knew we weren’t lovers… but boy I’m sure glad I lived those days. And lately I realize that most of those very few close friends, back then, their were 4 really, may be looking back on our collective past without this wonder. They may regret those days as having taken away from themselves. Indeed, I see people who have grown to be over 40 who are, of course, very different from then. Many do grow to adulthood with many times in the past regretted. I can’t think or be that way however, but I can understand why there is that trepidation to ones youth in many a mans mind.

Well anyway, I suppose Madonna got a bit left out of this post here. But that was where we had Madonna mostly, just on the surface of those times. She realizes like everyone, over in that big ole biz machine, that it doesn’t and won’t last. I hope that she embraces those ‘bad old days’ quite completely. I’m almost sure that she has. I’m sure that she probably won’t even talk about much of her past which would not be such a bad thing. She was really alive to me most when she was really having a bad time. I seem to be big on bad times, is all. So I do respect Mrs. Madonna and wish her all the best of course. But it was during this time that me and Erich went over to the Beverly Center Movie theater to see he movie ‘truth or dare’… I’ll never forget that me and Erich walk in there, not unlike that night with Cruise and the Industry at Altman’s The Player, we walk in there on the opening of Madonna’s ‘truth or dare’ and as usual we pretty much owned the very scenery of anywhere we were. We sit down and I notice that Madonna has some of her fans here, teenaged girls who weren’t far from our ages at the time we were about twenty somethings then… After about 5 minutes into the movie Erich says rather loudly to the screen: “Show Us Your Tits!” and boy, you should have heard these girl fans scream at Erich for talking down their big time chick, Madonna. I, of course didn’t reveal anything about my own feelings on the matter, me being me.

I must say though that although I sat there quietly while Madonna’s girl fans screamed about their hero’s womanly virtue being compromised, I couldn’t have agreed with Erich more… you see we really weren’t sweet on Madonna. She was really just another Cunt another Slut who really got around is all… just like any popular girl she was simply more grist for the mill.. and me and Erich being from another world… it just seemed like a very ballsy and very cool thing for Erich to have said… that he was Black made it all the more attactive, and boy, I’d never met anyone quite like Erich before… he could really have fun!

So I don’t regret a thing, of course. And I’ll never have even one complaint about my time with Erich or my other close friends from that time. Now 20 years later I do sometimes wonder where they are… I know one went back to Arizona… and that one the Mafia/Killer one may be dead from aids, and the other one the former manager of a gay book store, is probably very different these days, and Erich, of course… it really amazes me sometimes that I wielded all this influence back then. Of course now, no one but myself knows what happened after and unlike someone, like James Fry, who had to ‘make up’ the ugly details, I really don’t have to. I’d have enough trouble back then to give you ten thousand books. That I’m still here is something that is surely damn interesting. That I’m actually alive pumping away at this thing amazes me at times. Simply because I wouldn’t be here unless their was something pretty big at the end of this whole life business that is going on. These days you’ll hear just so much about how great or cool this is, that life is better here and there. Semantics is all it is, to place smiles where tears ought to go is better for us and the world to come.

Still I know that there are good things to this whole life business, just is that I can’t seem to touch any of it anymore. I left this world long ago is something that I’ve recently written, and it is pretty true about myself. I don’t feel as if I’m really here yet, but that I’m actually putting all these things together really does amaze me. I don’t seem to lack Power or something. And the unfortunate thing about me is that I can’t allow a mankind to place me in it’s usual parameters.

Man doesn’t seem to know me, he acts all the time like he doesn’t want to, but on this end I don’t want to either. You don’t want to know me, then I don’t want to know you.

I’m one of the very few people who can actually live with never needing to meet any of you. I can live without all of you in fact, and in every way unto Death.

It is becomming more and more interesting as I begin to often wonder these days if life is bigger without all of you.

j03.jpg

Date of Death
5 July 2000, Los Angeles, California, USA (shooting)

Birth Name
Eric Leon Harris

Trivia

Eric was shot in the head and killed by someone outside his house on the morning of July 5, 2000.

As a writer, he wrote many screenplays and a successful book entitled “African-American Screenwriters Now: Conversations with Hollywood’s Black Pack” in 1996. He also wrote for MovieMaker magazine and had some minor success as an actor.

————————

After writing the above I placed Erich’s name in Google and the above is what if found.

My response is here….

Jul
07

THE MURDER OF ERICH LEON HARRIS

This site  The Web 

CBS Store
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lincoln_abraham_photograph-thumb-425x563.jpg
The Art of Growing Up
Published: June 6, 2008

In January 1841, Abraham Lincoln seems to have at least vaguely thought of suicide. His friend Joshua Speed found him one day thrashing about in his room. “Lincoln went Crazy,” Speed wrote. “I had to remove razors from his room — take away all Knives and other such dangerous things — it was terrible.”

Lincoln was taking three mercury pills a day, the remedy in those days for people who either suffered from syphilis or feared contracting it. “Lincoln could not eat or sleep,” Daniel Mark Epstein writes in his new book, “The Lincolns.” “He appeared at the statehouse irregularly, hollow-eyed, unshaven, emaciated — an object of pity to his friends and of derision to others.”

Lincoln was taking three mercury pills a day, the remedy in those days for people who either suffered from syphilis or feared contracting it. “Lincoln could not eat or sleep,” Daniel Mark Epstein writes in his new book, “The Lincolns.” “He appeared at the statehouse irregularly, hollow-eyed, unshaven, emaciated — an object of pity to his friends and of derision to others.”

Later, Lincoln wrote of that period with shame, saying that he had lost the “gem of my character.” He would withdraw morosely from the world into a sort of catatonic state. Early in his marriage, Epstein writes, “Lincoln had night terrors. He woke in the middle of the night trembling, talking gibberish.”

He would, of course, climb out of it. He would come to terms with his weaknesses, control his passions and achieve what we now call maturity.

The concept of maturity has undergone several mutations over the course of American history. In Lincoln’s day, to achieve maturity was to succeed in the conquest of the self. Human beings were born with sin, infected with dark passions and satanic temptations. The transition to adulthood consisted of achieving mastery over them.

You can read commencement addresses from the 19th and early 20th centuries in which the speakers would talk about the beast within and the need for iron character to subdue it. Schoolhouse readers emphasized self-discipline. The whole character-building model was sin-centric. So the young Lincoln had been encouraged by the culture around him to identify his own flaws — and, in any case, he had no trouble finding them. He knew he was ferociously ambitious and blessed with superior talents — the sort of person who could easily turn into a dictator or monster.

Over the course of his young adulthood, Lincoln built structures around his inner nature. He joined a traditional bourgeois marriage. He called his wife “mother” and lived in a genteel middle-class home. He engaged in feverish bouts of self-improvement, studying Euclid and grammar at all hours. He distrusted passionate politics. In the Lyceum speech that he delivered as a young man, he attacked emotionalism in politics and talked about the need for law, order and cool reason.

This concept of maturity as self-conquest didn’t survive long into the 20th century. Progressive educators emphasized students’ inner goodness and curiosity, not inner depravity. More emphasis was put on individual freedom, authenticity and values clarification. Self-discovery replaced self-mastery as the primary path to maturity, and we got a thousand novels and memoirs about young peoples’ search for identity.

In the last few years, we may be shifting toward another vision of maturity, one that is impatient with boomer narcissism. Young people today put service at the center of young adulthood. A child is served, but maturity means serving others.

And yet, though we’re never going back to the 19th-century, sin-centric character-building model, for breeding leaders, it has its uses. Over the past decades, we’ve seen president after president confident of his own talents but then undone by underappreciated flaws. It’s as if they get elected for their virtues and then get defined in office by the vices — Clinton’s narcissism, Bush’s intellectual insecurity — they’ve never really faced.

It would be nice to have a president who had gone to school on his own failings. It would be comforting to see a president who’d looked into the abyss, or suffered some sort of ordeal that put him on a first-name basis with his own gravest weaknesses, and who had found ways to combat them.

Obviously, it’s not fair to compare anybody to Lincoln, but he does illustrate the repertoire of skills we look for in a leader. The central illusion of modern politics is that if only people as virtuous as “us” had power, then things would be better. Candidates get elected by telling people what they want to hear, leading them by using the sugar of their own fantasies.

Somehow a leader conversant with his own failings wouldn’t be as affected by the moral self-approval that afflicts most political movements. He’d be detached from his most fervid followers and merciful and understanding toward foes. He’d have a sense of his own smallness in the sweep of events. He or she would contravene Lord Acton’s dictum and grow sadder and wiser with more power.

All this suggests a maxim for us voters: Don’t only look to see which candidate has the most talent. Look for the one most emotionally gripped by his own failings.