April 26, 2018

Leftists killed millions in tne last century, what is one more little boy?

Alfie Evans is sick. He is going to die. The British NHS has determined this is so. They have pulled him off the ventilator. Stopped feeding him.

In case you do not know the story, plenty of articles are out there. Read several, I don't want to bias your research. You will have a hard time finding any that make Great Britain look good. In a nutshell doctors cannot identify the brain disorder affecting little Alfie and have stopped treatment. The parents object. The British courts have sided with the doctors, just like they did on the Charlie Gard situation last year.

An Italian hospital thinks they can treat 2year-old Alfie. There is a plane waiting to fly him to Rome. Alfie has been granted Italian citizenship to smooth the paperwork. The treatment will cost the NHS nothing.

The hospital and courts will not let the parents take Alfie for treatment. I don't get it.

I can say this, my grandson lived 21 hours. I would have taken just one more minute, hour, day. I know his parents would too, even knowing the outcome. Every one of those 1,260 minutes Sawyer lived was precious. If another hospital could have given him 60 or 90 or 1,000 more minutes I would have sold my soul to get them.

Read about Alfie then tell me the wonders of single payer healthcare. Tell me about the joys of socialized medicine.  Explain again how death panels are a figment of the fertile imagination of the former governor of Alaska.

Read about Alfie today. Tomorrow read about Venezuela. Then let me know in the comments why anyone would vote for the Berniecrats in the next election. Alfie is what the Democrats want for your kids and grandkids.  Don't fool yourselves. Read their words, listen to their speeches.

April 25, 2018

It's time for lunch

For most of my life I have not dreamed, or I cannot remember them after I wake. For the past few weeks my nights have been filled with rapid-fire vignettes, like a permanent sketch comedy show playing in my skull.

Last night I dreamt I was back in school. I did not dream I was late for class, that I missed the big test, that I was naked and unable to open my locker. No, I dreamed I got mugged and missed lunch.

Psych majors all over the country will scratch their heads over that one.

April 24, 2018

Where have you gone Joe the Blogger-O?

It is clear I have lost what little blogging mojo I ever had.

Like Brenda said...

But the title is pretty clever, eh?  *

Well, at least compared to my usual efforts.

*try singing it

It is Tuesday and I ain't paying for that hamburger

Good morning fellow Earthlings. It looks to be a cool wet day here in Hoosierdom. April showers and such are on tap. I'm feeling better. Thanks for all of your cards and flowers.

In other news...yeah. I'm just burnt out on politics.

It seems those guys may have been loitering around in that Philly Starbucks for as much as 45 minutes without buying anything before being asked to beat it. Keep in mind the guys refused dto leave before the cops were called. They still refused to vacate even when the police asked. I smell a BLM stunt here.

What other restaurant would let people take up a table for 45 minutes and not order anything? It is not race, it is business.

Or maybe the Starbucks manager is a Grand Dragoon of the KKK. We will never know, because like everything in today's America it has to be political and racist and probably somehow Trump's fault.

The Cubs are back in The Mistake by the Lake for a rerun of the '16 Series tonight.

Have a great day.

PS to my Cleveland Indians fans -- I'm wearing my 2016 World Champion T-shirt today, well aware that we were one little rain delay from switching roles.

April 23, 2018

I would skip reading this post if I were you

It is possible this post will be less intelligent than usual.

I spent most of last night crapping my brains out.


12 hours of diarrhea can't be good. I think it is medicine related as opposed to food related. I ate nothing my wife did not also eat, plus there is no abdominal pain, just copious amounts of butt soup.

TMI? I venture the answer is a certain "YES".

Assuming I have not contracted a stray strain of cholera I will probably survive.

I'm afraid to fart though.

April 22, 2018

Gaia Goodness Glorified

Today is Earth Day.

I will celebrate by spraying chemicals on the weeds in my yard. It is an annual tradition.

April 21, 2018

Peeling back the layers of the onion

I write pretty much like I talk. Slowly. Hah! No seriously, my writing and speaking styles are similar. I think that is why I have always written posts and letters and even term papers fairly quickly.

Back in the day I would research term papers, read the sources, make notes of pertinent facts and quotes I wanted to use. Then I sat down and generally wrote the entire effort in one sitting. I could compose a ten or even twenty page paper in this fashion. I could often outpace my typist (my girlfriend / now wife would type for me).

I think this is one reason my pathetic attempts at fiction have been so lame. I can get a good start, but the mental challenge of writing an entire short story or novel in my head is too much. I'm just not that smart.

I'm always fascinated by the creative process. In honesty, most of my blog posts take anywhere from ten minutes to thirty to compose (I know, you can tell). A good chunk of that time  is deciding what to write about. I have discussed this with my musician son. What comes first for him, the melody or he lyrics? For him it is either, or, and both. Sometimes he will get a cord progression, or musical phrase. Other times it may be a lyric. Sometimes a bit of melody is the foundation.

Often my posts work a little better if I read them out loud. Yesterday's musings are a good example. I hear the Animal House cast chanting "Toga, Toga" when I read that. Take a slightly sarcastic tone coupled with a "south of 70" Hoosier accent* and slightly slow and even cadence and you could be me talking in my definitely not radio-ready voice. I guess you could call my style self-deprecating sarcasm covering an under-layer of indignant righteousness.  Long-time critic EOB labeled it as "smug". Yep.

I like to think of my musings as a conversation between us.  I started blogging because I worked alone in an office. There was no one to talk to. My boss and support was in Italy. I needed an outlet for my jokes, anecdotes, and political rants. I still work alone, now from a spare bedroom. I still need an outlet for my stories, jokes, and outraged rants.

I'm glad we have a chance to talk.

*that same accent can be found south of 70 in Ohio and Illinois too. It is strange I have it since I grew up in north central Indiana far from I-70. My brother and parents don't have it. Go figure. Linguists are right, we learn speech from our peers, not our home environment.

April 20, 2018

The conversation in my head

Yesterday was the first time I failed to mark the anniversary of the beginning of the Revolutionary War at the old blog.

OK, that may or not be true, the first time I failed to mention part, not the anniversary part. Frankly, I'm too lazy to go back through 37 years of archives to check the veracity of the statement. Let's just stipulate that it is true -- the first time omission part.

Are you as confused as I am right now?

I will comment that the sole purpose of the British incursion into the Massachusetts hinterlands was to seize a cache of arms. In other words, to confiscate guns. See how that worked out?

What? Look it up. Do you think the Lobsterbacks were just out for a stroll in the countryside? Have I ever led you astray?

That was a rhetorical question. I don't need your long lists of proof for every time I was wrong. Or even your short lists. My wife already keeps tabs. Not of blog wrongs, real wrongs. I admit to none. That is how I roll, to trot out a phrase that certifies me as an old geezer and out of touch. Whassup? Thirty-eight skeedoo. Like, far out, man. Groovy. Toga, toga.

I tell you now, I'm this far into this nonsense post and I have no title, nor any idea what the purpose of the post really is. The truth is I'm bored with the blog. I'm bored with my job. I'm bored with politics. I'm bored with life.

I probably just need some nooky.

This post is example 154 of why subscribing to this blog is worth every cent of the purchase price. No refunds. No exchanges. Do not spindle, fold, or mutilate your receipt. All items must retain original packaging or warranty is void.

Oh well, how about we all have a great Friday anyway?
Consider everything here that is of original content copyrighted as of March 2005