boring

Nope, nada, nothing. It is not writer's block, it is more a lack of ambition. I just do not feel like it. There are plenty of topics -- we are upon the anniversary of the sinking of the Indianapolis this past weekend. I started the research, I just do not feel like finishing. Barbara Tuchman once wrote that "research is endlessly seductive, writing is hard work." What you do not know Barbara Tuchman? Look her up. Whilst you are googling, look up Adrian Marks. I knew his son.

Lots going on this week, lots of travel. I will be heading to the Chicago area for a long up and back in the same day on Tuesday. On Wednesday I am off to Texas.

I am also busy here at the homefront. Kiddoes number one and two are off to college in a couple of weeks, so we have stuff to buy, pack and move to their respective living spaces. That is just the beginning.

Work beckons, I have to get ready for my meetings.

1304

I am in a shitty mood. I was yesterday too. I picked a fight with the wife. Then with my oldest son. Then another with the wife, this one a big one. When I went out to the porch to apologize, I started another instead.

Dragonlady said some nice things about me and I smarted off in the comments. I swear you would think I was a female on the rag or something. Need more proof I am a jerk? I purposely put up a post number for a title because I know it upsets one of my mostest very favorite reader/bloggers. I was going to change it, but I want you to know how it is today. I guess you hurt the ones you love.

* insert fifteen minute break*

Reading some other blogs, and I see I am not the only one in this mood. The one who cannot be mentioned by name or linked is too. (Hey, you are either in with the cool crowd or you are not!). Sometimes I think she is my twin sister by another mother.

I drank some OJ and had a couple of little chocolate donuts. Neither did a thing to change my mood or make my shoulder quit hurting.

The original intent of this post was to write about something funny I saw last night. Surfing the channels I saw that the Giants were on TV. The Marlins were finishing an at-bat and the announcer said Bonds was first up. I stopped, I wanted to see Bonds break the record (I want to see the event, historical-wise, not that I want him to break the record). The last commercial out of the break was a PSA about the dangers of steroids. I laughed my ass off. Did ESPN do this on purpose? I can only hope so. Bonds came up and walked. Did anyone else see this?

My boy is at Scout Camp

Dear Mom & Dad,

Our Scoutmaster told us to write to our parents in case you saw the flood
on TV and are worried. We are okay. Only one of our tents and 2 sleeping
bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on
the mountain looking for Adam when it happened.
Oh yes, please call Adam's mother and tell her he is okay. He can't write
because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the search and rescue jeeps.
It was neat. We never would have found Adam in the dark if it hadn't been for
the lightning. Scoutmaster Keith got mad at Adam for going on a hike alone
without telling anyone. Adam said he did tell him,
but it was during the fire so he probably didn't hear him.
Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas will blow up? Talk about cool!!
The wet wood didn't burn, but one of the tents did and also some of our
clothes. Matthew is going to look weird until his hair grows back.
We will be home on Saturday if Scoutmaster Keith gets the bus fixed. It
wasn't his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked okay when we left.
Scoutmaster Keith said that with a bus that old you have to expect
something to break down; that's probably why he can't get insurance.
We think it's a neat bus. He doesn't care if we get it dirty and if it's
hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the fenders. It gets pretty hot with 45
people in a bus made for 24. He let us take turns riding in the trailer
until the highway patrol man stopped and talked to us.
Scoutmaster Keith is a neat guy. Don't worry, he is good driver. In fact,
he is teaching Jessie how to drive on the mountain roads where there isn't
any cops. All we ever see up there are logging trucks.
This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out to
the rapids. Scoutmaster Keith wouldn't let me because I can't swim, and
Adam was afraid he would sink because of his cast, it's concrete because we
didn't have any plaster, so he let us take the canoe out. It was great.
You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood.
Scoutmaster Keith isn't crabby like some scoutmasters. He didn't even get
mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of time working on the
bus so we are trying not to cause him any trouble.
Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Andrew
dived into the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a tourniquet works.
Steven and I threw up, but Scoutmaster Keith said it probably was just
food poisoning from the leftover chicken. He said they got sick that way with
food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and became our scoutmaster.
He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was
doing his time. By the way, what is a pedal-file?
I have to go now. We are going to town to mail our letters & buy some more
beer and ammo. Don 't worry about anything. We are fine and tonight it's
my turn to sleep in the Scoutmaster's tent.
Love, Rickey

Friday Funny

A Cicada lies dormant underground for 17 years and then emerges only to say

More on pygmy sex

I love CDs for their size and convenience. I also love the clear sound you can get with just a little maintenance. MP3 players will eventually replace even CDs in the future. But I miss record albums. Especially the cover art. The tiny picture on a CD cover has no soul. Here is one of the greatest album covers of all time:

The music is pretty damn good too. What are some of your favorite album covers?

Half speed

I am chugging along at half speed this morning. The wife and I took the youngest to see a midnight showing of the Simpsons Movie. It got laughs from the opening and never let up. It was as funny as some of the shows back in the Conan O'Brien days. My only complaint the movie was only a little over an hour long. In all, one of the funniest movies I have seen in a while.

The Bamboo Garden

I am back in the office early. My customer visit was cancelled by the customer. After driving a big two plus hour circle through east-central Indiana I went had my hair cut instead. I ate lunch at this Chinese place. Do you find the sign as hilarious as I do? I guess it is better than "Our waitresses are flirty, the floor is dirty".

I was going to rant about the cost of higher education and student loans, but unless you have kids in college you do not care. If you have kids in college you do not need to hear my rant -- you know the score.

The Simpsons Movie hits theaters tomorrow. I am pumped.

I know it is Thursday, but lets all try to get laid tonight!

Heighooo

If you are not reading JamesOldGuy on a regular basis you are sure missing out. He says what he thinks and he is usually right. Here he is on Hillary Clinton:

She has no self pride her only thought is to be president , she would suck a donkeys dick in Time Square if she thought it would get her votes.

He cracks me up.

It is gloomy and rainy today, but I woke in a great mood. Payday will do that for you.

Bush planned 9/11

If you believe the US Government planned, initiated and carried out the attacks on September eleventh,then I have a message for you.

You are a fucking moron. You should not be allowed to breed. You should be immediately sterilized. You are a menace to decent society. You should be examined by competent psychiatric professionals to determine if you are a danger to yourself or others.

If you believe the US Government assassinated JFK, if you believe the US Government knew in advance and allowed the attacks on Peal Harbor to happen, then you are no less ignorant of history, of facts, of common sense.

Governments, including ours, have a history of lies and deceit. Power corrupts. But to blame our Government for the acts of murderous religious fanatics is the reaction of an individual that is either suffering from ostrich syndrome, an islamofascist himself, or a deluded nutcase that hates the United States so deeply that you border on traitorous behavior. To believe BUSHCHENEYHALIBURTON committed the 9/11 attacks and are currently planning another such attack in an effort to overthrow the Constitution of the USA in a mad power grab is nuts. If you believe this bull -- well I think you are insane.

My life in Jeopardy

I am up at 5:00 am, hanging out with my buddy insomnia. We spend a lot of time together these days. I guess it is time to finish the post I wrote yesterday, my own little game of Jeopardy. You have the answer, now the questions:

1. What are the odds Greyroostercock survives the beating he is about to get from Big Dick?

2. How are things going for Osama Bin Laden?

3. How are things going for Osama Hussein Obama?

4. How is HB sleeping these days?

5. How are the negotiations going with big customer?

Update

Not very good. But thanks for asking.

Todays simple life lesson.

Lets try a little home experiment. Watch your local weatherman every day for a week. You can also watch the Weather Channel. Track how accurate they are. Now ask yourself this question:

If the trained, educated meteorologists are incapable of predicting the weather twenty-four hours in advance, how can they tell us what will happen in fifty years?

Then ignore the hype and bullshit surrounding Global Warming. I know this is not an original thought, but it cannot be repeated enough.

Done with Harry Potter

I finished it. One of the best books I have read -- ever. Lots of action.

I am not a smart man

Math was never my strong suit, but I have a question for my local readers. With property taxes spinning out of control due to the new reassessment measures (30-100% higher in every county) why are local governments strapped for cash and looking for other ways to raise funds? Indy has seen property taxes double and more, but still raised the local income tax by 60%. I do not get it. Please help me understand.

Now leave me alone

There will be limited posting today. Why? Here is a multiple choice test for you:

HB will not be posting today because


A) Work, Work, Work
B) He is in the middle (page 446) of a certain just-released book
C) He has nothing vital to impart
D) All of the above

Step Into the Twilight Zone

I was over at my buddies house last night, he of the knee surgery in the post below. Since then he has had four more surgeries on his right knee. He is going next month to have his knee replaced. We drank a few beers and he asked if I remembered the time we took him out and got him wasted before he had surgery the first time. I just laughed. It is weird how the mind works. On Friday, out of the blue I had a starling clear memory of that distant evening. I tried to write about it, I just wish I had the literary skill to spin the story better. The next day he tells me he is going to have additional surgery and brings up the same memory. He said he and his wife were talking about finally having the knee replaced on Friday morning as he was leaving for work. do do dooo do

Sometimes there are weird coincidences in this universe.

One Night in Frankfort

The air is punctuated by the deep rumble of engines and glass pack mufflers. The shouts and whistles of the kids mix with an occasional car horn and racing engine. Some of the cars are parked, most are cruising at idle speed around Mac's Hamburger Stand. The cars are of many varieties, many are muscle cars jacked up in the back to accommodate the wide tires. Some are family vehicles or the old junkers the kids could afford. Being a rural town, there are a lot of pickup trucks. The music plays a cacophonous soundtrack, radios and eight tracks turned at various volumes -- loud and really loud. Nearly all are playing rock and roll. One of the stoners has a unique turntable mounted in an old marine compass in his van.

We cruise down the highway and turn into Mac's parking lot. Jeff's Camaro growls under the hood with power. We are not looking for a race, but we are trying to score some booze. As we slowing drive around the restaurant I scan the cars and crowd for someone who can score. Maybe they are old enough, maybe they have a contact. We briefly consider driving to Illinois, it is early enough to make the two hour drive each way, but we know we do not have the money to buy gas and beer. Besides, when we get back it will be too late to party it up before we have to go home. Jeff is not crazy enough to leave cases of beer in his trunk. I do not see anyone as we turn back onto the strip.

We join the line of cars traveling slowly down the highway. We make the turns through town and around the square. We head back east towards Mac's. Our vehicle is part of the summer conga line of automobiles cruising the strip through town. A girl in a halter top leans against the bridge. I whistle and call to her. She flips me off. The sequence is repeated by various cars and teen aged boys in our wake. She is there to be seen. We try and think of a source for beer. I wonder if my brother has any? We have not seen him cruising yet this evening. It is still early. I suggest we buy some cigars. As we pull into the grocery I spot Bill's Torino. As usual he has washed and waxed it to a brilliant shine. Jeff goes into the store to get some smokes, I head over to Bill's car. It is actually vibrating with the power of the speakers blasting the Rolling Stones. He turns it down as I ask if has any beer. After some teasing and giving me a hard time he says he will get us a case of Little Kings or Strohs. I give him a ten spot. He just made a couple bucks profit since those are the cheapest beers around. He says it will cost us six of the beers. I whine, but he knows I will give in. He is going to drink all night for free when he buys beer for the rest of us. It is only fair, he has the five o'clock shadow and fake ID. We agree to meet in an hour or so. He is on the way to pick up my brother.

We rejoin the line of cars and after some time park up on the square next to a cobalt blue Cougar. The driver asks if we want to get high. We consider it, but neither of us has much money left after paying for the beer. It is still a week until payday for us both. I was not much for grass anyway. We drive to the park looking for girls. We find a couple of other buddies, they ask if we have some beer and we tell them we have some on the way. They are going to pick up some as well. We park Jeff's car and get in with them. We get our beer and Brian drives to a seedy part of town. He goes into a house. We discuss the rumor that a guy walked through an upstairs window of the place while high on angel dust. Troy tells us he is going to the hospital for surgery in the morning. Ah, we are celebrating! Bill bought us Little Kings Ale, Brian drops a case of the same in the backseat of his big Buick.

Flying down country roads we throw the empties at mailboxes. Cigar smoke rolls out the windows and music washes over us. The smell of corn and farm mingles with our laughter. We head out to Michigantown hoping for a fight or at least a disagreement. The tiny burg is dead. We head back toward town and Mac's. We sit on the car and drink our beer from paper cups. We trade some of our beer for a pint of rum. We head inside to buy some cokes for mix.

Stars whirl through the night sky and the cars rumble through the parking lot. The music blares as the evening heats up. We discuss going to Lafayette, but we know we will sit and cruise and drink right here at home. Some girls stop and flirt, they are not interested in us as much as the rumor we have some booze. We continue to ply Troy with liquor, joking about our goal to see that he will not need anesthesia for his operation -- he will be feeling no pain!

After a bit we pile back in the car and cruise some more. As usual, Brian is low on gas. We all throw in a couple of bucks. We drink, we laugh and the the night rumbles on. The cars honk and music blares through the shouts and waves as cars pass heading the opposite direction on the strip. Four young boys, just on the edge of manhood, get gloriously drunk on beer, on rum, on summer, on the joy of being alive.

Love me do

I have an incredible craving for a gin and tonic. I do not know why. Normally I am a beer drinker, but a G&T sure sounds good. Yes I know it is 8 am.

I have been reading a biography of the Beatles. It is by a bloke named Bob Spitz. At more than 800 pages it is a big read, but so far very entertaining and well researched. This is the second Beatles book I have read this month. I tend to get obsessive about a subject and study it until my interest is satiated. In the past I have delved into the Boer Wars, The Civil War, The Zulu Wars, The revolutionary War and WWI and WWII. I read every book I could find on the US Indianapolis. Now I am stuck, I guess, on the Beatles. What is interesting is I have never been a huge Beatles fan. I think my CD collection consists of the Number 1 album. In the days I owned vinyl, a worn copy of Meet the Beatles stood gathering dust, passed to me by some unknown source.

I am at the part where the boys are in Hamburg, learning their chops. The are living the high life in the St. Paulie District (for those of you who like foreign beer do you know a St. Paulie Girl is a hooker?). The book talks about the Red Light district and the Reeperbahn. This area was/is a free wheeling entertainment and sex district since the middle ages. The part of town where sailors came to 'relieve the pressures' from months at sea. I have been to this area of Hamburg twice. I wrote about one such visit here. I remember yelling at Hans-Jurgen to "mach schnell mother fucker" as he stood by the car taking a piss as we stood freezing in the rain after a long night of drinking. The bars and strip clubs blasted electronic techno funk instead of rock and roll. I would have liked to visit in 1960, what a sight it must have been, as rock and roll began to grow up.

Skyrockets in Sight

Several ideas for posts have been rattling around in my skull like gravel in an old coffee can. Have you seen the Harry Potter movies or read the books? Dumbledore uses his wand to pull memories and thoughts from his brain. They look like milky spiderwebs. I need to be able to do that. Maybe I should forgo posting until I have my coffee. I do not doubt some medication would help as well.

Baseball is over for the year. We were knocked out in the semifinals of the SE State tournament by the same team that knocked out in the finals last year and the year before and the year before. Go read last year's post and the one from 2005. This year we came in third, all the previous we were second. The boy did not play much, the coach took out his animosity to me on my son -- a petty and small man indeed. That is what happens when you stand up to a bully -- he takes it out on those unable to defend themselves. Maybe I will tell you the story sometime. In the end, in a must win game, the coach swallowed his pride and put his best team on the field and suddenly there is the little one starting in his accustomed outfield spot, playing every minute of the game. Too bad the coach's son played like crap. He gave up six runs as pitcher in the final inning as we lost 8-2. You do the math. My kid scored one of our two runs.

As I look back over the mind farts I have wafted onto the blog page so far I detect a tone out of character in recent days here at Fat in Indiana. Time to inject a little more negativity. This is also a test to see if you have read this far, since I know none of you have any interest in my mundane life.

There are movies you hit while channel surfing you must stop and watch. There are songs you will always listen to on the radio. For those of us of a certain age it might be Stairway to Heaven, Freebird, or Turn the Page. But are there songs and artist you hate so much you will turn them off at the very first note? I will turn off the radio at the any hint of Afternoon Delight, but in all fairness, I would likely not listen to any station that would play such trash. I am talking about bands that would be included on the play list of your favorite station.

There are several artists I particularly hate. In fairness, if I listen to most of their work, I do not dislike any particular song, but something about the music turns me off. Foremost of those on that list would be Aerosmith. Stephen Tyler irritates the hell out of me. We were driving down the street the other day when an Aerosnith song came on. The boy reached up and punched a different station button. I asked why he did that and he said " 'Cause you hate Aerosmith and I wanted to save you the effort of changing the station." I also hate nearly any song by ZZ Top or Tom Petty. The king bee of my list of hated musicians has to be Steve Miller. I cannot think of a single song of his, going back to Quicksilver Messenger that I can stand for more than a nanosecond. How about you?

Just a post before I go

Legend has it that Graham Nash penned the tune "Just a song before I go" in about an hour at the end of a recording session. Well I will give you a post in the fifteen minutes before I hit the road to do my selling thing. I am in the midst of negotiations with one of my larger customers -- a multimillion dollar account. Several times in the last few months I think we are done, ready to sign the papers and a new wrinkle delays the deal. I hope we get it all resolved today. I am done negotiating after this meeting. I have one very small carrot left in my bag, and then we have given all we can.

My mood is no better than last week. Thunder is rumbling in the distance and the sky is dark. It looks like I face a wet drive. The visitors lot is far off at this customer, so I will have to use the umbrella and wet clothes for my meeting. Happy happy smile smile.

Kick a dog for me today, will ya?

I saw Harry Potter

Reading the last couple of posts you might think I am in a violent, angry mood. You would be right.

Just a little pinprick

I read the other day that China executed a government official the other day for taking bribes. Most news outlets in the US that reported this event did so with a tone of incredulity. After all, we are loath to even execute the worst scum and violent offenders in our midst. But I think I agree with the action. Those who work in the bureaucracies and elected positions in our Government do so ostensibly to serve us. When they violate that trust they are committing crimes against us all. It is time to send a message to those in Government and those who would pay our representatives for votes and favorable actions that we are tired of the corruption. How does one go to work in Government, never worked in the Private sector, and retire a multi-millionaire? I say we fry a few corrupt Congressmen and lobbyists and see what happens to tort reform and bills revising the tax code.

A day in the life

I turn onto I-57 from the Lincoln Highway heading south towards Kankakee. It is dusk, I have hours to go. I settle into that driving groove, the miles flying past my tires in an endless line. Road music soothes me on my iPod. Lots of guitar solos, classic 70's rock. I lock the cruise control at a slick 75 mph.

The red Nissan was driving in the left hand lane for no apparent reason. I pass on the right, noticing the tag on the back -- Michigan plates emblazoned 'DOBY'. Why do assholes from Michigan insist on driving in the left lane all the time I wonder. This is not the first time I noticed this. Soon DOBY was a spec in my mirror. The road cut its straight path among the farms and fields of Illinois. A car flies up my rear passing me. It is my buddy DOBY. He finally moves into the right lane in front of me. He promptly slows down to about 70. Urgh, I hit my turn signal and pass him again, muttering to myself about jerks in Nissans and their inability to use cruise control.

Ten minutes later guess who passes me again? Yep, jerkoff DOBY. I am getting a little sick of this. Is he playing some kind of game with me? The road was nearly deserted as the sun paints the sky in purples and orange. The clouds glitter with gold and I feel for the Colt 45 ACP under the armrest. The sky overhead was already a deep indigo as night drew near. Ten miles later guess who was clogging the right lane, running right at the speed limit? I passeed him again. Fifteen minutes later DOBY zooms by on the left, I now am so sick of that red Nissan.

Ten miles down the road I come upon a car swerving off the road on the right. It is my pal DOBY correcting when he hit the rumble strip. This guy is a menace. I think for a minute about pulling out the handgun and just shooting him. I smile, just for an instant, at the thought. I know I could never hit him with the handgun at 75 mph. The idea was crazy, I would end up in prison, the cellmate of a huge inmate named Bubba. I dismiss the thought. I impulsively reach over the armrest to backseat floor. The Browning model eleven 16 gauge would do the trick. I tapped the brakes and fell in behind DOBY and his strawberry red Nissan. I flick the safety and rolled down the passenger window. I looked around, no cars in sight. I pulled into the left lane accelerating slightly. The fucker will not look at me. I pulled even, then slightly forward. The gun was heavy in my hand as I pulled the trigger. Holy shit, what have I done? The kick nearly broke my wrist. Goddamn that hurt. The Nissan swerved for a moment than lurched to the right flipping in the roadside ditch. I turned up the radio and chuckled.

I pulled into a gas station to take a leak. I entered the restroom to find the one urinal was occupied. The stall was empty, but I wanted to use the urinal. I don't know what came over me, I stepped up and drove the asshole's head straight into the wall as hard as I could. I grabbed his hair and smashed his face about 6 times into the pipes above the porcelain. His blood looked pink on the white wall as he slumped to the ground. I pulled open my zipper and pissed all over him. It felt good. I did not take his wallet or anything. My wrist now hurt like a bastard.

I pulled back onto the highway, taking the exit onto I-74 heading East. Zepplin pounded through the speakers -- Kashmir. As I rounded a bend, trees in the median, there was a car driving just at the speed limit in the left lane, no other vehicles but ours on the highway. He had Michigan plates...

Insert your own clever title

Did you miss me? 1,200 miles of windshield time this week. My rear is numb. I have a few rants swirling in my fecund brain, only I am not sure if they are my thoughts or the compilation of hours of various talk shows that streamed through the airwaves into the radio in my shitty Taurus. Above is a picture of the sky I took from my window. The ground is flat, the phone was tilted. It is hard to take a quality photograph when you are barrelling down the interstate at 80 mph. I thought the clouds were cool. So far pictures of the world from my car seem to be the only use I have found for the camera attached to my phone.

As I was driving Wednesday afternoon I was thinking about an old friend and former customer. He used to live in the area I was passing through. I had not spoken to him in about three years. About ten minutes later my mobile rang. A voice said "HB, this is a voice from your past." I knew right away who it was since I was just thinking about him! Crazy eh? He is back buying my products and may become a customer again.

Work beckons, and I have many blogs to read.

stuttering

A teacher is explaining biology to her 4th grade
students. "Human beings are the only animals that
stutter," she says.

A little girl raises her hand. "I had a kitty-cat who
stuttered," she volunteered.

The teacher, knowing how precious some of these
stories could become, asked the girl to describe the
incident.

"Well," she began, "I was in the back yard with my
kitty and the Rottweiler that lives next door got a
running start and before we knew it, he jumped over
the fence into our yard!

"That must've been scary," said the teacher.

"It sure was," said the little girl. "My kitty raised
his back, went 'Fffff, Fffff, Fffff'...

And before he could say "F-u-c-k", the Rottweiler ate him!"

The Rain in Spain

Sometimes I get off track, especially when I get to telling stories. In the last post I meant to talk about my daughter, but ended up telling about Otter's dog. My brother is like that, it always has to be about him...anyway I was talking about my daughter. She is almost twenty-one, a Junior in College. You never knew I had a kid when I was ten, huh? Jeez, maybe a new paragraph will help keep me on track.

My daughter left yesterday for ten days in Europe. She is going to Madrid, Florence and Rome. She has only been on a plane a few times, I think she is a little nervous. The whole idea of what to do when she arrives -- getting to the hotel, checking in etc., I think is a little daunting. At least in Spain she will be able to speak the language. I am not thrilled with this trip, and I miss her already. Even though she is rarely home, we speak to her every day. Now we have to wait on her call.

I know how she probably feels. I have been to Europe ten or twelve times. Never as part of a tourist group, but for work. Sometimes I have been able to do some sight seeing as well. As far as being a fish out of water, the worst was one of my trips to Italy. I had spent several days at our plant, and on my last day the boss asked if I wanted to see Turin (Torino). I said sure. One of the guys drove me to the city, about 40 minutes from our offices. When we arrived he parked and told me some of the places of interest, and showed me a map (in Italian). He then told me he would me at this same spot at 7:00 pm. It was about 10:30 am at that point. I got out of the car and off he went. I thought he was going to give me the tour. I was on my own. I knew exactly ONE word of Italian -- grazie. What a long day.

I did see a couple have sex on a park bench behind the palace, but that is a post for another day. I will be traveling the length of Illinois for the next couple of days, so posting will be light to non-existent. Go forth, sit in the sun, and get laid.

Dog Days

Did you embiggen the picture below? That sour-looking young girl is my daughter. That picture was taken after a day at Disneyworld 19 years ago. She was almost two. We had gone to visit my brother Otter at his home in Florida.

Otter had this big chow that he loved like his kid. The dog was well behaved and lovable, as long as Otter was around. During our stay, Otter and his wife both had to work. One time while they were gone the doorbell rang. The wife grabbed the dog's collar and as we opened the door, the dog gave her the old buck and duck and he was out the door! I went after him, barefoot as usual. I forgot how hot asphalt gets in the July sun. Off we went, through yards, under bushes, across streets. I swear that damn dog was teasing me. He would stop and wait until I got close, then off he went again. Through apartment complexes, around the gas station, across the strip mall parking lot, down the median of the highway we ran. Sometimes, just for fun we would double back. That dog wanted to make sure all of Tampa knew I could not catch him. I finally got him turned back toward home.

I let the dog run through the apartment complex as I regrouped, and shod my swollen, blistered feet. The wife could not help me, we had a baby to tend. Finally after about three hours I got close enough to grab a handful of fur and then the collar. I have never wanted to kill an animal so bad. Unfortunately Otter was due home from work in a couple of minutes. Otter asked me later if we did anything exciting while he was at work. I swear that damn dog looked at me and grinned.

Happiest Place on Earth

1277

2:52 am. My old buddy insomnia has returned to pay me a visit. It has been almost a week, I would like to say I missed him. I am reading today's posts on the old blogroll and watching a rerun of Let's Make a Deal. It is sure good to be me. I just finished a book about the Beatles called "Ticket to Ride" by Larry Kane. The book chronicles the Beatles tours of 1964 and 1965. Kane was the only reporter to hit every stop with the band. The stories are interesting but he is not a great writer. In fact he sucks as a writer. I might even be better. The book is still worth a read, if you like that type story. Or not, I really do not care. Hanging with Mr. Insomnia makes me a bit peevish. Joy to you -- you get a live blog of my mind.

Monte Hall just gave away a brand new Camaro. It cost $4,400 dollars.

Hold on, I have to find something else to watch, I hate the Amazing Race. Preachers, Infomercials -- do any of those get rich quick schemes work? Do people really send their money to those guys for the tapes? Real Estate, weight loss, insurance, the silver bullet, some kind of panini press is there no real TV on late night any more?. Oh my God, is that Peter Fonda hawking 60s music? He looks like shit. How many face lifts can a person have? Poker, I would rather watch pool or bowling. Of course, maybe that would put me to sleep. Nancy Grace: can she really be the monumental bitch she appears on TV? Seriously, if there were a Mount Rushmore of Cunts, She and Hillary would be front and center. Sorry ladies, I know most of you find that word totally offensive. One day I am going to publish a post prior to spellcheck so you know what a moron I really am (tottalyy). OK, it looks like Emeril wins...Shut up and cook already.

3:14. At least no one is begging me to get off the computer so they can check their 'myspace'. The bad part is I am bored. When I am bored I eat. When I eat I get fatter. Well I could get one of those Rascal Scooters I just saw on TV. I see the fat cows driving them at WalMart.


There is a whole list of stuff that has pissed me off today. I am not going to bore you with it, but I bet tomorrow (today already?) will not get better. Emeril is not cutting the mustard -- hah a pun.

3:28/ Bored yet? I am. Good Night.

Friday Five

I sit here drinking my coffee and trying to find the words to entertain you. You are pretty damn demanding, you know. Clearly most of you are from the 'gimmee' generation. Well too bad, reader. You are going to get some tough love from the ole Hoosierboy today. I will not entertain you. I will not be your enabler. Find your kicks from some of the blogs listed over there on the right. Any one of them will do.

The boy starts down the state Babe Ruth tourney road this evening. It looks like he will be back in his accustomed outfield position. He prefers the action of the outfield anymore. As the kids get older and stronger he sees a lot more action. The full size diamond and outfield presents a challenge as he now has a lot more territory to cover.

I have not commented on the hypocrisy of the Clintons going after Bush for commuting Scooter Libby's prison sentence. That is a target too easy to hit. Heck, even the left-leaning MSM sees it as a joke.

We got some much needed rain the last two days. I mowed yesterday for the first time since before Memorial Day. The grass was brown and parched like you would expect in Mid-August. Crazy weather.

We have not done a Friday Five for a long time. The car driving down the street a moment ago brings a topic to mind. I could hear the bass thump-thumping, so let us discuss bassists. Name the five best bass players.

Here is my vote, in no particular order:

Chris Squire
John Paul Jones
John Entwistle
Paul McCartney (listen to some of the Beatles stuff closely, he is better than you imagine)
Greg Lake

How to compliment a woman

A woman, standing nude, looks in the bedroom mirror and says to her husband, "I look horrible, I feel fat and ugly - pay me a compliment".

The husband replies, "Well....Your eyesight's 'fuckin' perfect".

Thirsty Thursday

We went north to our friend's house to celebrate our nation's birthday. My buddy bought a mini keg of imported German Donkel beer. We polished it off. I ate a couple of Brats, and some of my semi world famous mashed potato salad and some deviled eggs and chips, and ...Let us say I drank and ate and had a good time. I smoked a Gurka cigar I had been saving and later had a nice H. Uppman. Today I feel like the Russian army did maneuvers on my tongue -- in their dirty socks. We lit off some firecrackers and bottle rockets and a few roman candles. Later we went to see the town's firework show and enjoyed ourselves immensely. The wife drove us home and I slept in the car. A great evening all around.

Did you enjoy my history lesson yesterday? Did you learn something? Now you can bore your friends, and coworkers with a little trivia. If you were to ask the average American what battle produced the highest casualty rate you probably get answers ranging from D-Day to Custer, to the Alamo, to Gettysburg or even a few might answer Antietam. Few would have mention St. Clair, Blue Jacket or Little Turtle. Why don't we teach this shit in school? I have always said history can be as exciting as any movie or book you can mention, because it all has happened before. Think history is boring? Go read this post by the Fat Hairy one. Would you have liked history more in school if it was taught in this fashion? That is enough of that, the height of this soapbox is making me dizzy.

Go forth and prosper.

In the Old Northwest

On July Fourth,1876 the nation was celebrating its centennial. Celebrating citizens were shocked to learn of the defeat of General George Custer just a few days prior. The event has been immortalized in history, movies and popular culture. Custer, Crazy Horse and the Battle of the Little Big Horn remain mythic icons still. But these events were minor in comparison to a defeat laid on the US Army some 85 years previous.

As settlers spread into the Northwest Territory (now Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan), the native inhabitants of the area resisted mightily. Attacks on settlers prompted action. A punitive expedition led by US Brigadier General Josiah Harmar was sent to deal with the Shawnee, Miami and Delaware in the Ohio country. They were soundly defeated by the Indians in October near modern Fort Wayne, Indiana.

President Washington was furious and charged Major General Arthur St. Clair, who was also Governor of the Northwest Territory, to do the job right. Congress agreed to finance the campaign and provided funds to raise a new regiment in the US Army for the purpose (doubling the standing army). St. Clair also called up the Kentucky Militia. The fall of 1891 saw St. Clair on the move. By the time he reached president day Fort Recovery, Ohio on November third, St. Clair's force numbered 52 officers and 868 enlisted men. He also had about 200 camp followers along.

He was opposed by Indians under the leadership of Blue Jacket of the Shawnee, Little Turtle of the Miami and Buckongahelas of the Delaware. The Indian force numbered around 1,100. The Indians attacked at dawn on November Fourth.

The casualty rate was the highest ever suffered by a United States Army. Of the 52 officers engaged, 39 were killed and 7 wounded (an 88% casualty rate).In less than two hours the battle became a rout. "It was, in fact, a flight," St. Clair described a few days later in a letter to the Secretary of War. The American casualty rate, among the soldiers, was 97.4 percent, including 632 of 920 killed (69%), and 264 wounded. Nearly all of the 200 camp followers were slaughtered, for a total of 832 Americans killed. Approximately one-fourth of the entire standing United States Army had been wiped out. Only 24 of the 920 troops engaged came out of it unscathed. Indian casualties were around 61, of which about 21 were killed.

St. Clair traveled to Philadelphia to report on the battle. He blamed the quartermaster as well as the War Department for not providing adequate supplies or soldiers for the task. St. Clair asked for a Court Martial to exonerate him from the defeat, but Washington instead demanded his immediate resignation.

The aftermath of the battle resonates today. Congress began its own investigation into the defeat (someone must be blamed!). These were the first ever Congressional Hearings on the actions of the Executive Branch. As part of the proceedings, the House committee in charge of the investigation asked for documents from the War Department. Secretary of War Knox sought the advise of the President. Washington summoned a meeting of all of his department heads (Knox, Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton, and Attorney General Edmund Randolph). This was one of the first meetings of these officials, and some scholars consider this the beginning of the Cabinet. This group decided the documents were protected under Executive Privilege. They claimed the documents in question should be kept secret for the public's good. This doctrine continues to divide us today as practiced by all subsequent Presidents including Reagan, Bush and especially Clinton.

In 1794 another army, this time led by General "Mad" Anthony Wayne, defeated the Indians of the Northwest Territory at the Battle of Fallen Timbers. The Indians ceded much of their land at the Treaty of Greenville. For the most part the Indian Wars were over in Ohio.

At least one bright war chief of the Shawnee recognized the tenacity and power of the US Army. He had participated in Harmer and St. Clair's defeats as well as the loss at Fallen Timbers. This young Indian knew all the Native Americans would have to band together to drive the white man back across the mountains. He began traveling among all the tribes of the Eastern US to form alliances. His name was Tecumseh and he will be the subject of another post.

Tuesday

I am ready for the fourth. Food, fun beer and a fine cigar or two are on tap.

Giddy up you old nag

It has been lonely in the saddle since my horse died. That will not keep me from beating this old Shetland pony. More than once I have been called a bulldog, and my good buddy Prozacula has brought out the worst in me.

For those of you who only stop by sometimes (shame on you, you should be clicking every hour on the hour. Sleep when you are dead), I published an email I received regarding illegal immigration. It was a parable. One of the big boy liberal leftist bloggers linked it in a lame attempt to make fun of me (he said I was one of the beefjerky brigade -- some insult huh?). This link brought me bunches of hits and a few commenters.

Most of the comments ran the typical -- you are an asshole/racist/I hope you die liberal response. One commenter said I was racist and used a 'yokel' (read Southern accent)to prove his point. I told this asshat he was using the same kind of stereotypes he found so offensive in my post and did not that make him a bigot and a hypocrite. He explained that he was using humor. Oh, and on the right our humor is just examples of why we hate brown people/black people/homosexuals/joos/arabs/kittens. We are just intolerant racists, you see.

I really hoped for a discussion on immigration, but all I seem to get from Mr. Prozacula is he is right 'cause he said so. I have invited him for an intellectual debate, but he says I will just call him names.

He went to another website and complained Big Dick and I were mean to him.

Here is my position:

I am against illegal immigration no matter if the perpetrators are Mexicans, Ecuadorians, Brazilians, Frenchies, Italians, Germans, Swedes, Russians, Chinese, Koreans, Congolese, South Africans, Hungarians, Hondurans, Cubanos, Peruvians, Martians, or Canadians or any other nationality, religion, or race. I have no issue with LEGAL immigrants, providing they come here to make America a better place. Unlike the assholes at Sadly No, I can see the difference between the Italians and Eastern European immigrants at the beginning of the 20th Century who came through Ellis Island, were documented and arrived in a legal manner -- those who came to become Americans, who assimilated into society. There is a difference in those who come illegally, crossing our southern border with impunity. I really could care less what color their skin is. A criminal is a criminal and not a legitimate or wanted member of decent society.

I am against taking the hard earned wages of American workers and providing welfare and other benefits to Mexicans, Ecuadorians, Brazilians, Frenchies, Italians, Germans, Swedes, Russians, Chinese, Koreans, Congolese, South Africans, Hungarians, Hondurans, Cubanos, Peruvians, Martians, or Canadians or any other nationality. Except Australians -- I like Australians. That last sentence was a joke, for the humor challenged progressives in our midst.

If this makes me a racist -- feel free to explain how and cite proof. If my position is wrong, feel free to argue your point. Facts and logic are required here at Fat in Indiana, not a mere statement that I am offensive, because you claim it to be true.

So I offer a direct challenge to you Prozacula, and your buddies at Sadly No! Argue, debate, prove me wrong. Dick says I am too nice to you trolls. I hold out hope that for once you will offer reasoned debate. Prove me right. Do not show up, shit in my living room and run off like a cockroach. Stand up, defend your position. I have devoted what, four or five posts in an effort to get you to stand up for yourself. Do not disappoint me. Could it be you just hate Hoosiers and conservative white people? Prove you are not the racist.

Ramblin' Man

Friday morning I was fed up with sitting still on Chicago's Dan Ryan Expressway. Who was Mr. Ryan, and would he be pleased to know he is cursed by tens of thousands daily? Is this the tribute the politicians of Chicago had in mind? I vowed not to make the same mistake on my return trip home. I tuned to the erstwhile WGN and the Cubs as I made my way to Lake Shore Drive and US Highway 41 South. The lake was green and the beaches empty on this cloudy cool Friday afternoon. I passed the remains of the Great White City from the Colombian Exhibition of 1893, now housing the Museums.

I curved through stately neighborhoods, once upper class. There is a wave of rebirth in some of these southside neighborhoods since I last came this way. The historian in me sees things the way they were, and I wish I could have driven these same roads 80 or 90 years ago. Further South I traveled through stoplights and zigzagging down the streets of Chicago. I pass under and along the Skyway, eschewing the exit to view the old road, once the primary highway southward from the Second City.

I cruised past the City Hall and what must be Hammond High. I considered staying on good old US 41 southward to connect with US 52 and on toward home. It is late afternoon and I am already looking at a 7:00 arrival. I jumped back on the interstate and set the cruise control for 83 mph. The balance of my trip will now be quicker, but I think I am a bit poorer in experience.

My side trip was faster than the 'express' lanes on I-94. I enjoyed it far more. As one who travels it is fun to take the old highways and byways, travel through the forgotten towns of America. I squint my eyes and see what was, what might have been, and I am happy.

Now let us calculate your reading comprehension score. What is the main point of the story above?

A. Dan Ryan Jr. was the President of the Cook County Board of Commissioners

B. The Cubs won a dramatic game with a walk-off two run homer in the bottom of the ninth inning

C. The Columbian Exhibition of 1893 was the last World's Fair of the Nineteenth Century

D. This is an amazing tale about a salesman who actually worked on a Friday afternoon.