August 31, 2012

A glimpse into the life of an Average Joe

I drove over a thousand miles this week. It was through some of the most boring, flat, nondescript landscape in this wonderful nation -- the breadbasket of the world; the cornbelt.

I ate too much fast food and spent nights in different hotels. That is my job, and I am OK with it. It is the occasional semi-interaction with fellow humans that makes the job worthwhile. For instance, I overheard the following quip while standing at a line of urinals at a rest-stop somewhere along I- 57 in nowhere Illinois:

"My urine smells like beef jerky"

It took remarkable self control to contain my laughter until I was back in my car.


Another one bites the dust

Ed went the way of Fred.

Not even a courtesy goodbye.

Don't you people realize you have an obligation to entertain me?

Seriously, I hope all is well.

Friday Hippie Music -- a special post for the upcoming Democrat Convention



I wrote a paper on the Chicago Seven back in college.  Learning the real background and agenda of the anti-war crowd did more than anything to move me towards conservatism. Those guys and their ideological adherents are now the leaders of today's Democrat Party.

Here is a hint for the lazy among you: the Soviet Union provided a great deal of funding for the anti-war movement in the 1960's.

August 30, 2012

Dear Republican Party

Things seem to be going so well. I hate to drop a bag of barbies on your big convention.

I feel obligated to point out I do not really need you.

I don't think you can say the same.

We aren't at the break up stage, but our relationship needs some work.In this case it really is you, not me.


August 28, 2012

Truth

If you find yourself disagreeing with most of my thoughts and opinions, it is a very good sign you are just wrong.

August 27, 2012

Do that mean what I think it do?

A recent commenter implied my usage of the term "Bitch Slap" was offensive. Since I am an old guy and sometimes do not keep up with the changing definitions of words and phrases in today's fast paced world, I though perhaps I did not understand the meaning of the term.

According to the Urban Dictionary:

1. bitch slap

To open handedly slap someone. Denote disrespect for the person being bitch slapped as they are not worthy of a man sized punch. Suggests the slap was met with little resistance and much whining
 
Nope, it means what I thought it did, and I used the term in the manner I intended.

 
 
PS. Two points for you if you get the movie reference in the title of this post.

Hello Monday

Shall we review?  Sometime Saturday afternoon or evening the air conditioner quit. Rather the blower motor conked out. Repair guys have been dispatched and will arrive in their own good time sometime today.

I was up late last night.  The boy played in a battle of the bands last night and showed up to lend my support. They move into the finals next Sunday. If you are in the greater Indianapolis area feel free to show up at Mo's Irish Pub in Noblesville on Sunday night to vote for the greatest band you have never heard -- Fossil Generation. I was sitting at the bar next to the lead guitarist from the band that had just finished when Fossil Generation took the stage. After the first song he looked at me and said "Damn, that fucking guitar player can shred". High praise from a fellow musician.

Here, I have published this before:



They are loud. They are tight.  They have fun. They are talented.They play too late at night for this old fart.

August 26, 2012

RIP

Reluctant hero

The next time

some moron liberal pro-occupier starts in with their 1% bullshit, I am going to bitch slap that mofo so hard with my John Corzine bat he or she won't know what hit them. That criminal (alleged) is one of The Obama's biggest fundraisers.

Is it a coinky-dink the corrupt Eric Holder-led Justice Department will not prosecute?

We will not even get into Solyndra, GM, etc. 

August 25, 2012

August 24, 2012

Bingo!

Democrats are obsessed with making sure we all get abortions because they know with The Obama running the economy no one will be able to afford to have kids.

Anti-Hippy Music Friday



Since we already had our weekly dose of hopey-changey hippy music this week, I offer for your amusement the antithesis of hippy music. Makes you want to head down to the recruiter station doesn't it?

Just wondering

If the words of one idiot Republican means every Republican is in favor of rape and forced pregnancy, does the actions of one Democrat mean all Democrats are child molesters?

August 23, 2012

Here is an answer, now what was the question?

I have known for some time that I just do not get it. I do not consider myself a moron, but I know what I don't know, if you catch my drift.

I have tried to understand quantum physics. I can grasp the basic underpinnings, but the actual understanding at a deep level is beyond my ken. I can live with that.

I have always thought I have a firm grasp on history and to a lesser extent politics and economics. Again, there are experts in these fields, but I have a basic grasp of the fundamentals.  I am not the sharpest blade in the drawer, but I am not a spoon.

That said, today's political environment leaves me more than confused.  I really truly cannot grasp how anyone can advocate an anti-capitalist, anti-freedom agenda. The entire concept of socialism, communism, whatever -ism term you want to use leaves me lost.  I might as well be dropped into the Amazonian rain forest without a map to do spinal reconstruction surgery with a Boy Scout pocket knife. I have no fucking clue.

How anyone can believe the best course for America lies in taking the hard-earned wealth of one individual and giving it to another escapes me. How can a Government provide for the General Welfare when no one produces is beyond my understanding.  Nothing in history suggests the at the dream of Marxism is functionally feasible. It is not possible for the Government to distribute largesse to the people without taking the product of another's labors.

The early settlers at Jamestown tried this "each to his abilities/each to his needs" concept and it failed miserably.  Robert Owen tried it again at his Utopian experiment at New Harmony without success. The USSR, East Germany, North Korea: the list of places this great experiment has been tried and found wanting is almost endless.  Why would anyone advocate a failed economic system?

In a perfect world there would be no hunger, no sickness. We as humans would look after our fellow man. I like to think the best of us, but humans are animals hell-bent on survival. Often the very progressives who advocate a Marxist-type economic model are strong proponents of a Darwinian "survival of the fittest" philosophy of human origin and evolution . How can the notion that we all strive at a molecular level to improvise adapt and overcome in order to survive co-exist with the concept we should give up every advantage to a 'weaker' human? 

In France during the Revolution, society was determined to promote liberty, equality and fraternity. In the end, common citizens resorted to not bathing and wearing rags lest they be perceived as trying to be "better' than the poorest of the poor. The French Revolution was the ultimate experiment in progressive liberalism. God was banished to the point of changing the names of the days of the week.  The calendar was changed to match a decimal system.  The metric system replaced the crazy Imperial measure. Aristocrats joined the mob or lost their head. Eventually, even the zealots were destroyed by the mob. The result was a 15 year World War and a stricter Imperial rule than the French originally overthrew. 

In reality,  I will sooner understand Born’s probability interpretation, Feynman Diagrams, and Neutrino Mixing long before I understand how any thinking person can promote, advocate and believe the Socialist/Communist/Liberal/Progressive economic fantasy will ever work. 



Stuff I find amusing that will make you shake your head and click away as fast as possible because your really don't love me like you should

I was out and about this week doing my job, making money, doing my best to overcome the Obama economy. I was sitting in a parking lot yesterday in Charlotte, NC*.  I had the radio on 'scan' trying to find a station that suited my fancy. The radio paused on a station and I caught this quip before it moved on to the next available signal:
"...the problem with putting it on a cat is he will lick it off right away..."
The radio had already moved to another station by the time I stopped laughing. That is all I heard, and the product discussed is lost to the airwaves.  I got out my phone and recorded the exact phrase for your amusement. I am giving like that. Ladies, you can thank me later. Men,  a cold beer or fine hand rolled cigar from the Caribbean will suffice.



* Day to day you never know if things around here are live or Memorex..
This one is live.
Maybe.

August 22, 2012

Capitalist Mofos strike again. I need to go occupy someplace.

The wife and I went to the grocery last night*. We bought a cartload of foodstuffs.  I needed some coffee so I hit the appropriate aisle with trepidation.  If you have purchased coffee in the past year or so, you know even your Folgers and Maxwell House have more than doubled in price. Current coffee prices are at the levels only a few scant years ago was reserved those rare coffee beans culled from the turds of ballet dancing Indonesian marmots. Now coffee is priced higher per pound than a good beefsteak.

The sneaky evil capitalist overlords at Maxwell House have found a way to fool the less-than-attentive shopper. The price is roughly the same as I paid a month or so ago, the can has shrunk again!

Just a few years ago the common package size for coffee was a two pound container.  That venerable packaging changed to 34.5 ounces when the price of coffee began to skyrocket.  Now we find our favorite morning pick me up is offered in a puny little 30.6 ounce plastic can. This equates to 30 fewer cups per container. But the price has remained the pretty much the same.

I think this whole coffee situation is really a model for the Obama Administration.  It costs more, you get less, and no one really likes the way things are trending.



* I am not one of those old guys who follows the wife around at the store telling her what to buy.  I have done most of the grocery shopping for a long time --I do most of the cooking, it only makes sense.

The truth hurts

H/T Doug Ross

August 21, 2012

I bet their parents are so proud



There you have it, two living, walking, talking pieces of shit.

h/t Hyperbolic Chamber

Wow, that will leave a mark

Check out this comment on a post from 2006 that showed up last night in the spam filter queue:
I haven’t checked in here for a while since I auto insurance thought it was getting boring, but the last several posts are great quality so I guess I’ll add you back to my daily bloglist. You deserve it friend :) My page : car insurance online
 I guess it is time to hang it up when even spammers call you boring.

Hippy Music Friday -- Tuesday edition




Scott Mckenzie, writer of the ultimate Hippy Anthem has died. This was going to be my Friday selection this week.  The Grim reaper moved things forward.

August 20, 2012

Dear You

Gone again!

Shoot me an email: hoosierboy62-at-hotmail-dot-com if you start reblogging.

The new poll tax

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Seriously, you have to read the above link.

Now read the comments to this post and then join me for a gratuitous laugh as I light up one of the cigars I just got in the mail!

God Bless America

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha  my side hurts...

Nope, we do not need Voter ID 

Laughin' it up here, Boss.

August 19, 2012

Nope, no liberal bias here, just move along

Did you notice how fast the news coverage disappears when a Democrat Liberal Progressive Leftist nutjob goes on a political shooting spree?

August 18, 2012

It seeps into your brain at night

I don't think I have OCD tendencies. I like to do things a certain way, and I keep stuff in a certain place, but organizing according to a particular whim and obsessing are very different. And we all do stuff out of habit and familiarity. Perhaps that I always put on my left shoe before my right shoe may qualify, but I think we all have some idiosyncrasies.

But...sometimes at night when I am sleeping I get a thought in my brain and I worry and obsess with it in my dreams, in those half-awake/half-asleep stages.  It remains a worm in my brain when I wake to pee, it remains a ghost of thought when I wake up. I cannot shake the thought from my brain. I have solved many a problem with this skill/curse. Sometimes the obsessive worrying takes a more ridiculous turn.

Last night the only theme in my brain was that I was researching why cartoon characters wear white gloves on their hands, but no other clothing. I was consumed with finding the answer.

I know!

But for some stupid reason that is all I could dream or think about all night long. 

Why do some cartoon characters wear gloves?

August 17, 2012

Pioneering Audio




I worked my ass off and purchased one of these with funds saved from my first job. Mine was circa 1977 or 1978, but looked exactly like that.  Do you have any idea how long you had to save  to get $300 bucks when you made minimum wage? It is a long damn time when minimum wage was about $2.30 an hour.  This is especially true when you only worked 15 hours per week. I also had to buy gas, have spending money, and buy the occasional six pack of beer pop on a Friday night.

This receiver pumped into a couple of Utah brand speakers with 12" woofers.  I later added a couple of Pioneer speakers with 10" woofers.  I could shake every window in the house. I sold the whole set around 1990 along with a very nice turntable and a cassette player.  The whole stack took a lot of room.

I wish I had it back.

Hippy Music Friday



Obama and Marxists all over the planet are holding hands and humming along!

August 16, 2012

That 70's Show -- the other one

Horshack from the old ABC sitcom Welcome Back Kotter passed away a few days ago. Rather the actor who pretended to be Horshack passed away.

Kotter ran from 1975 through 1979. When it first came on the air I had the hots for the actress who pretended to be Kotter's wife.  Marcia A. Strassman played Mrs. Kotter, and in retrospect was not that sultry. But at 13, I had the hots for every chick on TV not named Maud or Endora. 

I remember watching Welcome Back Kotter for the first season or so, but the humor tired quickly even for a a boy strongly possessed of a 7th grade sense of humor.

Sign of the times

My local Optimist Club has passed a resolution to disband if The Obama is re-elected.

Even the Optimists cannot find anything positive about the current administration.

August 15, 2012

I know what I know -- a follow up post for my Wife



I think I will play this at full volume every morning until the Wife relents on my right and justifiable desire to put a wooden cigar store Indian in my home office.

Delivered

We successfully delivered the Boy to college yesterday. His dorm room is tiny and the furniture is beat to hell. I have seen small dorm rooms before, but this is pretty bad. I think the room at one point was designed for a single and now they have space issues so two are in the room.  There is only about a foot and a half between the end of the beds and the closet. In order for the door to open, the two twin beds have to be placed side by side, almost like a king bed.  There is a gap of about 6 inches between the beds.  They are going to have to bunk the beds, even though neither wanted to before they saw the room.  In the best University tradition, you have to pay to have the beds bunked -- $75. The 'Man' has the metal pins and you can't have 'em for free.There is no dresser for either roommate, only a small nightstand pushed into the closet for each.

He could be one of the students assigned to sleep in the common room/ lounge. There is that. He did not seem too upset about the situation.  We will see when the roommate arrives today.  A small room gets much smaller when two occupy the space. 

We were terrible parents, our boys had to share a room growing up. The boy is used to sleeping in a bunk bed and sharing a small space.  He will be fine.


August 14, 2012

How I wasted my time before I started blogging

Original pen and ink c.2005

I know what I know

The wife and I are having a weeks long running dispute. She is unshakable in her hardheadedness. .More importantly she is just wrong. If you have spent any time at all reading my collected works, you know I am determined to prove my superior worldview.  In this case, there is no political philosophy at stake, no historical interpretation, no mathematical principles to be argued. We are not in disagreement over religion, philosophy or child rearing.

Quite simply, she refuses to understand the absolute necessity of purchasing a 6 foot tall wooden cigar store Indian for my office.

August 13, 2012

Bad vs. Worse

This will mark six Presidential Elections in a row where my vote will be against the other candidate as opposed to for a specific candidate.

Cats in the cradle...

The wife is tense. The boy is filled with nervous excitement. Tomorrow we take the boy to college.  He is the last one at home. My daughter headed off into college and marriage and a job, that journey started just after I started this blog-o-rama. The oldest son headed off into the world two years later. Now, after a five year gap, it is time for the baby of the family to leave the nest.

I rarely see him these days.  He works, hangs out with friends and comes home after I go to bed. Sometimes he stays the night with buddies who have pools or other cool stuff. But I still know that most days he is home, even if he is asleep in the room right next to my office. Now, he will be away for weeks at a time.  Indiana University is a mere 1.5 hours from the old homestead, a short trip to be sure, but still a lifetime away.

He is not even gone yet, and I am already counting the days until he is home for a few weeks at Christmas break.

August 12, 2012

The Olympics are nearly finished and so is my coffee

I was not sure if I was going to put up a post today. My weekend readership is pretty low. Only my most faithful of followers make an appearance.Thanks, if that is you. I suppose life is more important than me. I know! Such a philosophical outlook is hard to imagine.

I hate to cover up the previous short story post. Not because I think it is especially good writing or entertainment, but for the memories of an 8 year old boy it invoked in me for an unknown reason yesterday morning.  I am fully aware of my limitations as a writer and long ago came to grips with the notion I am a hack at best. I wish I had the skills to transfer what I have in my mind to electronic paper, but I come up short every damn time.  No patience, no editing skills, and no spelling skills all come in to play. Mostly I lack the patience to work and massage a post to total coherence. Oh, I know what is good.  I read enough and have studied enough to appreciate the writing art. Just because I can listen to Rhapsody in Blue and enjoy every nuance does not mean I can play anything beyond rudimentary Chopsticks on the 88 keys of ivory. I can see the grass, hear the birds, see my Mom in my mind.  I just lack the skills to present it in a accurate, entertaining way. Such is life.  I guess its is my typical long-winded way of saying sometimes I write stuff for me. Besides, for most of you yesterday's post is just like this one -- TLDR.

We went to dinner and a movie last night with some friends. I am not much of a Will Ferrell fan, but his new flick The Campaign is funny and entertaining. I strongly recommend it. There will be some who try to draw too much political connotation from the movie, and the rich power brokers are clearly based on the Koch brothers, but so what? Hollywood is left leaning and you should just get over it.  The film is not really political, both candidates are exaggerations and unlikeable. You cannot spend every minute of every day worrying about Obama or Romney.  Life is good, it is OK to take a moment and laugh. 

August 11, 2012

Saturday morning musings

He woke with a sneeze, quickly followed by two more. He blew his nose on the soggy, snotty handkerchief from under his pillow. His eyes were stuck shut with snot and gunk. Joe managed to pry open the right one as he stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. Warm water unstuck the left as well as a few eye lashes.

He padded to the kitchen. His pajama top was snapped crooked.  "Good morning sunshine" his Mom happily intoned.  She was sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. He got a bowl and the box of Quisp cereal from the cabinet. His Mom poured the milk. He could hear the washing machine running. He scratched his thick dark hair. He sniffed.  His Mom handed him a Kleenex, without saying a word.

After breakfast he brushed his teeth and pulled on cutoff jeans, the legs fringed. He remembered he forgot to take off his pajama shorts first and had to start over. He searched through the drawer looking for his favorite red tank top. Joe would wear it every day if he could.  He settled on a blue one. Snot was running down his nose.

"Mom, can I go over to the park?"  Yes to the park, no to the dime for the concession stand. He knew it was a long shot first thing in the morning. The spring on the wooden screen door stretched and the door banged closed as he went into the garage.

As he mounted his red stingray bike he heard his Mother yell at him from the laundry room "Joe, put on shoes if you are riding your bike". He pretended he did not hear.

He jumped the bike over the curb and tried to pull a "wheelie" as he pedaled faster. The sissy bar was too far back on the banana seat to help. No one was out playing as he rode the three blocks to the park. The park was likewise empty. He looked back across the wide open grass toward the railroad tracks and the drainage ditch. He rode towards the culvert that went under the tracks.

Dismounting, he crushed a few crawdad holes and poked a stick in another. None came crawling out. He squished his bare feet into the mud and soggy grass at the edge of the shallow water. No fish were to be seen.  There never were. He rinsed his feet in the thin stream. As always, he peered up into the murky depths of the large sycamore near the ditch. Billy McKenzie said he caught a bat there. Joe had seen the bat, wrapped in netting. Having a bat would be cool. None was to be spied.  The boy absentmindedly pulled up the tail of his shirt and blew his nose.  Only then did it occur to him he had a handkerchief in his back pocket. He used it to smear the snot on his shirt.

The boy picked up a thin stick and swished it through the air like a whip. He mounted his red bike and pedaled around the neighborhood, whipping imaginary horses. Mostly he liked the sound it made whistling through the air.. Bored, he threw the stick into old man Vice's yard because he knew the old man would freak out about it.  The old man yelled at any kid who came close to his grass. Old man Vice mowed every day and was a fanatic about his yard.

Joe noticed some empty Coke bottles tossed out from a car, near the stop sign. He skidded to a stop and studied them. Three bottles, that was nine cents in returnable deposit at the supermarket.. He tried wedging one of the bottles into the bike frame without success. He could not think of a way to carry three empty bottles on his bike. He left them beside the street and peddled on.

As he neared the Redmond house he instinctively stood up and pumped the pedals as fast as possible. As he zoomed past, their collie-dalmatian mix came tearing around the corner barking furiously at the bike rider. Joe was past before the dog got a good run at him.  The dog stopped, panting. The mutt gave a last bark, acknowledging today's winner.

It was just another summer morning.

August 9, 2012

Corn rustled, crickets chirped and fireflies lit the night sky

It was in the backseat of a Chevy Monte Carlo, parked on the edge of a cornfield off of county road 250 North. I think it was in August, but the night was chilly. It might have rained earlier in the day.

Meatloaf, the artist not the food, might as well have have sung the script.




How about you?

August 8, 2012

More than a difference in opinion

We can agree to disagree on many things: Chevy vs. Ford, the designated hitter, pulp or no pulp in your morning glass of OJ. You might like mustard on your hot dog. It could be a preference for Miller over Bud or black ink compared to blue ink pens. You might secretly dig kitten boxing, or Japanese cartoon porn. Some people actually root for the New York Yankees and New England Patriots.  There is no accounting for individual taste.

But on one subject there can be no mistake. If you choose something besides smooth Jif peanut butter on white bread, you are just plain wrong.

Is there no shame?

The Obama Campaign's Super  Pac released a shameful ad yesterday accusing Romney of Murder. It claims he closed down a plant and a short time later the wife of one of the employees died of cancer because the family did not have "health care".

Only Romney was no longer at Bain when the company closed. And the wife died 5 or 6 years later.  Oh, and she did still have insurance...

I have been lukewarm at best to Romney. These attacks have led me firmly to his camp, if for no other reason than to get these thugs out of the White House. This ad, and Harry Reid's despicable "do you still beat your wife" type accusations leave me disgusted.

If this is today's Democratic Party, then I want nothing to do with them.

August 7, 2012

Options taken

I had a full plate yesterday. You can just scroll down a few centimeters to see what I am talking about. See how I am getting in the global moment of the Olympics, using metric and all?

Anyway, with the help of the magic internet the tech support guys at work signed onto my 'puter and did their secret massaging of the inner workings of my laptop.  Now I am running full speed again.

I skipped taking the car into the shop and opted for a half day of vacation instead. We went here. A great time was had by all. I guess my spirit of adventure has not mouldered and withered in the half century I have walked the Earth.

I am off this morning to get the car checked out. The check engine light is now glowing an ominous orange in my dash panel.  I am starting to think I have ignition problems. That is not cheap.

Look Ma, almost a week and no comment on the Chik-Fil-A controversy. That is right, I do this all freestyle, no nets, no wires, no trick camera work.

August 6, 2012

Inadequate

Last week my car started to randomly behave badly. I would be driving along and suddenly the engine would cough and die just as if I was out of gas -- cough, shudder, shudder, cough -- dead.  I would wait a minute and it would start up and run perfectly. It has done this four times in the past week. I am off to the garage in a bit to see what is going on.  Ignorance of vehicle repair is a curse.

The company VPN has quit working. I have tried all I can, now I am waiting a call from IT to help me. Ignorance of computers is a curse.

I was thinking about taking a half day of vacation to do some stuff with the family. Since two of the primary tools of my job are not working as advertised, the 'puter and the car, it is quite possible I will spend the day getting those issues resolved instead.

August 5, 2012

A casual brush with ignorance

I suppose I outta publish something before my last three readers give up on me.

I spent a good part of last week on the left coast. I am way cool with that, the Cascades and Columbia River area is by far my favorite place to visit in the world. I was tied up in meetings the whole time, so  Idid not get to do any sight seeing, but such is life. When the man signs your paycheck you are at his pleasure.

There were no significant travel issues worth mentioning. A certain airport design used in a certain Northern Midwestern city (or twin cities, if you will) still sucks. The airport is nice, the layout is horrible. I landed at the "F" gates and had to trek to the "B" gates. If you have been to MSP you know that is a long haul. It was OK, my layover stretched from a bit over an hour to three and one half hours -- reason unknown.

After a leisurely late lunch I made my way through the concourse, battling idiots who cannot operate the moving WALKway. This is amazing in that at MSP the moving sidewalks are labeled every three feet or so with a 'walk" and 'stand" designation separated by a solid yellow line up the middle. The concept is just too hard I guess.

While waiting at the gate for my connecting flight, a breathless couple came running up to the gate. They pulled up short as the woman breathlessly gasped "It is delayed". The man let forth a string of loud profanities at the counter clerk. He wanted to know why not one bastard bothered to tell them the flight was delayed? "They just ran through that whole G-d mother fucking airport to get to a flight that was fucking delayed". The airline representative told him that the flight was marked delayed on the monitors posted throughout the airport. MSP has a lot of these monitors I will add. The man said the "bitch flight attendant" told them they would have to check at the gate, why didn't she know their connection was delayed? The lady calmly replied that the attendant was in the air and had no way of knowing the situation of other flights. 

The man and woman fumed and complained in their seats but they got no sympathy from the rest of us. I suppose most in the gate area thought as I did, if you don't know enough to check the monitor,especially if your incoming flight is late, you probably are of the same breed that stands blocking the moving sidewalk...

August 1, 2012

WTH?

My desk faces the back wall of my office. There is a window just to the right of my desk. A Japanese maple is to the right of the window, outside. The electric meter is to the right of the maple.

This morning I was doing some emails when movement outside caught my eye. I leaned over and looked out the window. A guy was doing his rounds, reading the electric meter. He wrote the numbers, then walked back.  He stopped to peer in my window.

WTH? He saw me and jumped back, startled. He then moved on towards the neighbors'. I started to chase him down to see what he was up to, but decided he would just deny he was peeping.

It is not like he saw anything of interest. A treadmill faces the window, and behind it is a closed closet. My desk, file cabinets and a printer/copier round out the furnishings.
Consider everything here that is of original content copyrighted as of March 2005