The music's over, turn out the lights

Personal and work events have combined to make this the last post at Fat in Indiana.

These events began some months ago, and came to a head at the beginning of August.

At this point I have to be out of my house by Monday.

Oh, I guess I need to be more clear -- we are moving into a new home (new to us). Packing, moving, all of that good stuff will take up my time. Internet will be off until the cable guys find time in their busy schedule to hook us up again. I will post again after that.

This whole post reminds me of an old college drinking song called "I'm an asshole." You sing it to the tune of Darling Clementine (you know like Huckleberry Hound used to sing):

I'm an asshole
I'm an asshole
I'm an asshole 'till I die
But I'd rather be an asshole
Than a Beta Theta Pi

What can I say, I'm an asshole. At least the post has a title, not a number, Freddie!

Enjoy the holiday weekend and I will be back as soon as possible. The best option is to click several times an hour to see if I am back yet.

Otter, you have the keys to the place if you so desire to hang out and entertain in my absence.

Salute to Unions

Here is a post for Labor Day.

Many years ago I worked at a factory that employed over 600 people. I worked in what the union guys would have called management. After I left, I still had many friends that worked there, both blue and white collar. New owners had purchased the plant. They called in the Union President, and officials from the Union local. The company explained they were losing money. They asked for a relaxation of job classifications and concessions on benefits. At the time the union workers had a $5 copay and paid ZERO towards their health/dental/vision insurance. This was as little as 10 years ago, so it was a sweet deal even then. The company did not ask for wage concessions -- just pay some towards the insurance. A week later the Union President came back and said no to everything. He would not even budge on the job classification issue which would have improved production. The company promised no lay-offs would occur with job changes, but it might over time reduce the total workers by five or six (out of 600). The company promised this reduction would come through attrition. The Union said NO.

The next week the company announced that the plant would close and the production would move to a plant in another state. That factory had been there for more than 30 years. The wages were in the 12-15 dollar range plus benies. The jobs were gone. Never to come back. The average age of union workers in that plant was over 40. Few found jobs that could compete with what they were being paid. The salary employees lost their jobs because a schmuck with no education thought he was a big-time negotiator. He was heard to lament later " I thought they were joking when they told me one of the plants was going to close". He told a friend of mine the reason he wanted to President of the Union was that he got first choice on overtime, and then could not work, claiming he was doing union business. "I get paid OT for drinking coffee and shooting the shit." he crowed.

So this labor day when you think about unions remember the jobs they have cost. Remember the added thousands in the price of your car because of the unions. Ask where the American steel industry has gone. Thank the unions for the destruction of the textile industry.

Unions did much for the working man. They had a vital role in the past. Now I wonder if they do more good or harm?

Indiana, my Indiana

There is nothing I could add that would make this more amusing:

He's a good driver

Wednesday Interlude

I drank a couple cups of java this morning before I left on my trip. About an hour into the drive I had the need to relieve myself so I stopped off at a rest stop. While standing at the urinal I felt the need to pass wind, but stopped myself just in time -- a little old turd was playing whack-a-mole with my sphincter. I went to a stall, wiped the seat and did my business. While I was sitting there listening to the music in my head, I began to tap my toes to that little ditty "I Am Sixteen" from the Sound of Music. I love that song. Next thing I know the guy next to me is tapping his toes with me, only he has stuck the end of his black, tasseled loafer under my side! Then he reaches under the partition and gives me the come hither finger wave. Holy shit what is going on. He then slips me a business card with the US Government seal and tells me if I let him in he will do unspeakable acts to my private parts. I got the heck out of there fast, his last words lingering in my ears -- "Hey, I ain't no queer..."

Hip hip hooray for hypocracy

I thought the press, the Today Show, the Democrat Party, Soros, Kos and the liberals all were firm in their position that one's sexual life was private and had no bearing on political life.

Personally, I think a guy getting his jollies in a public restroom is sick, but far less disgusting than an elected Representative taking bribes and getting caught with the marked bribe money in his freezer. I am pretty firm in my belief that the guy taking bribes is a far, far greater danger to the Republic. The restroom guy should just go away for being stupid.

But that is just me.

Overthrow the Government

The left in this country has become so off-kilter, so deranged, so much the rabid dog I fear for the future of our nation. Never in the darkest days of the Clinton Criminal co-Presidency did any sane person advocate a traitorous act of sedition. Martin Lewis advocated no less in the Huffington Post Saturday. This crazed left-winger has asked General Pace to actually arrest the President for conduct unbecoming an officer. First, the President is a civilian. While he is the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces, he is not a commissioned officer. In the second case being a bad CIC, or making poor decisions regarding the use of the military has become a tradition for a few decades now. Could the mis-management (or micromanagement) of the war in Vietnam be a better example? Every life lost by an American is precious, but this administration has about 47,000 lives to go before it reaches the gross incompetency of that of LBJ and company. Do we need to discuss the horrific decisions made by the previous administration in Somalia or the Balkans? If we are going to allow the military to decide what is sound policy, we become no more than a banana republic. When the Praetorian Guard began to decide who would be Caesar, the end was in sight for the Roman Empire.

The military decisions in this country are taken in this nation by civilians, not the military command. There is good reason for this. Go read or rent Flight of the Intruder to get a view of this. In the movie Fred Thompson of all people explains the whys to young Jake Grafton in one of the most moving parts of the movie. We all understand why Grafton did what he did. We also all know it was wrong.

The hysterical rantings of Mr. Martin are a sign the left has finally lost control. If a right leaning reporter had suggested a similar act under the Clinton Presidency he would have been jailed for sedition, the NY Times and ABCNBCCBSCNN sounding the charge. The airwaves would be choked with invective against right wingers. Matt Lauer would look at the camera grave faced and ask where we are as a nation. This article stirs not a feather in the mainstream media. That tells you where the left and the Democrat Party has gone. They court the crazies at HUFFPO, KOS and their ilk because they believe what they say. Go read the article and convince me I am wrong.

If you would vote for these people you are a nut job. You are trying to destroy the basic freedoms of this nation. Treason is not free speech, sedition is not a right. The only positive is the fact that most right-leaning citizens also support the Second Amendment. We will protect our nation. We have the guns.

edit. Read through the comments on the article, now Lewis claims it was all satire and irony. Funny he was defending the position to the end on Saturday. Perhaps he read the Constitution? Perhaps he spoke with a lawyer? BTW, in all seriousness, could someone explain to me the laws Bush has broken? On what grounds should he be impeached/arrested/removed from office? Did he lie in open court? Did he sell US Military secrets to the Chinese? Did he rape someone? Did he sexually harrass an intern? What has he done that so inflames the moonbats?

Hoosier Beachfront

Here you have real pictures of the Indiana Dunes. See the Chicago skyline in the in the distance in picture #2. It may not be the Jersey Shore (there is not New Yawk pollution washing ashore), but it beats the hell out of Sheepshead Bay (That name really makes you want to go wading).




clickee makee bigee

Leonidas likes it Greek Style

I crack myself up, really I do. You have to read that "really I do" with that east coast Vassar accent the ladies all used in old-time 1920/30's movies. You know that snooty accent? Could you stand bedding a chick with an accent like that? "Oh Charles, You make me all tingly. We simply must get Carmen to clean this mess. Tennis anyone?" No, you are right. I am not sure where that was going. Maybe it is time to get back on the meds.

Jeepers the Lions are pathetic. Manning put up stats in the first half that many quarterbacks would wet their pants if they could do it in a whole game. Man, that is a poorly written sentence.

Do not tell anyone -- I am drinking coffee at the computer. A HUGE no-no at the HB homestead.

I have some good stuff going on today. I do not think I will discuss it with you. Not even if you send me hot naked pictures.

Sorry, but the picture of the "Restored Indian Village near Lafayette" -- that cracks me up. Now you know what kind of humor gets me going.

Go forth, good readers and enjoy yourself this Sunday. Report back here and let me know what you did, especially if you got laid, or fantasized about doing the nasty with a certain Spartan King (YOU know who you are!)

More Hoosierboy Travelogue

An example of why New Jersey is known as the "Garden State"
This is THE tree that once grew in Brooklyn. A book was written about it.

More Indiana Landmarks

Versailles (Ripley County),IN
Restored Indian Village near Tippecanoe Battlefield -- Lafayette, IN
Fort Wayne
Chapel at a well-known University in South Bend
Fire tower in the Hoosier National Forest
Office park on the north side of Indianapolis
Founder of Evansville,IN

Further proof

New Jersey:

Brooklyn:


Indiana:

Live blogging, and NSFW

Periodically we bloggers ponder why we do this goofy hobby. For me it is a place to spew the unfiltered thoughts that rattle in my skull like pebbles in a coffee can. Here is one of my favorite post subjects -- live blogging my thoughts:

I cannot believe someone from Brooklyn, New Yawk Freakin' City makes fun of someone from New Frickin' Jersey. Here is a Jersey Beach:Here is a Brooklyn Beach: Now compare that to the beach front in Indiana:I would venture neither has much to be proud of. Like the song says "Jed move away from there, Indiana is the place you outta be..." Here is a further example of the scenery you could find in the Hoosier State:Or this:"I believe you have proven your case Mr. Mason..."

It is hot. We have missed almost all of the rain that is socking the Midwest

Can we just forget the farce that is preseason NFL?

Man I really, really hope I did not get Freddie in trouble joking around in her comments. That is why I rarely comment.

I just shat a turd that looks like a crawdad.

I have to pay the electricity bill today

Here is a picture of the Michelin Man's Mom:
I heard from an old friend this week, It was way cool.

The oldest boy seems to be doing fine at college. He says he has made some new friends. He gets pissed when we ask him what he calls stupid questions like "are you eating?" or "are you sleeping OK?" Someday he will be a parent.

It is ridiculous in today's age, coupled with the cost of a University education that dorm rooms are not air conditioned. These same universities scream about how our world is warming, yet they do nothing to protect their students from the heat?

Friday. Friday. Friday. And yesterday was payday!!!

I have again achieved perfection, a whole post with nothing of substance. I am developing a true art form here. I know, I know, you wish you could be more like me...

One sweet ride

This is the car described by Eric in in the comments to my post below. Man, at one time Detroit had a great sense of style.

Truck is on fire...

Erin, who is a real writer and has serious talent (she makes me jealous) writes about your car and what it says about you. The first vehicle I ever owned was a 1966 Chevy C10. It looked like the one there in the picture only it was black and the stripe down the side was red. The roof was white though. I paid $400 for it. It was a total piece of crap. The floorboards were completely rusted away, you could see the middle stripe in the road from the driver's side and the right hand stripe from the passenger side. Through the floor. I taped rugs over the holes in the winter to help keep out the cold. The gas tank was in the cab, behind the bench seat. It was partially rusted so that if you had more than a half tank of gas you were nearly overcome by fumes. The bed was plywood over rusted beams. The truck was a three speed on the column.

I bought it from a mechanic. The bumper and front end was dented in from pushing cars and buses. The headlights pointed in different directions, never at the road. It ran like thoroughbred. It would speed down the highway at 70 or 80 mph without a hitch. I do not know how fast it would really go because the body would shake and vibrate so bad at 80 you would have to hang on to the wheel for support. The passenger door had neither a window crank nor door handle. I had vice grips in the glove box if you wanted to roll down the window. I usually just threw my empty beer cans on the passenger floor.

Once my dad and I were going to Otter's to help him move some furniture. We placed a cooler in the seat between us and started off in the light rain. I had filled the tank full for the drive, so gas fumes were strong. I stopped at an intersection and noticed smoke coming up through the floor behind me. I shouted that we were on fire and bailed out of the cab. I forgot there was no door handle on my dad's side. The seat was blocked by a large cooler. He began to shout for me to let him out. I started laughing as I realized the situation. Water in the bed had sloshed when I stopped, hitting the hot exhaust, sending steam through the rust hole in the floor.

Climbing back into the drivers seat as I explained it all to my dad. He did not find it amusing. Ashen-faced he cracked open a beer as we accelerated onto the highway. He called me an SOB and a few other select names. He was shaking as he asked if I thought it was safe to light a cigarette. I laughingly told him to go ahead, we would know in an instant if the fumes were too strong. When you are young you really do not give a shit about stuff like that -- you think you are immortal.

I had a lot of adventures in that truck, including the time I drove over a cow. I will tell you about that sometime. The truck finally blew the engine a gloomy fall day as I drove to work. I sold it for $50. I would like to say I watched it go teary-eyed, but that would be a lie.

What was your first car?

The government outta...

I threw a couple of Brats on the grill and opened a can of kraut to heat for lunch.

I guess the grill was too hot because I split the skins on the brats. That pissed me off. If I was a libtard Dimocrit I would blame YOU. I was reading blogs when the splittage occurred. Since I take responsibility, it was my fault. What the heck, the sausages and kraut still tasted great.

A Night with Hoosierboy

I am rereading the Da Vinci Code. I really do not buy the premise, there are too many holes in the history. The book is a good read anyway. I decided to hop on the internet and look at an image of one of the paintings Brown was discussing. I found myself drawn to various websites debunking the book. Then, as usual, I was distracted into side research. This was always a problem in my budding historian days. I was always sidetracked by interesting side stories.

Quick interlude: I do have to say that the internet has simplified research so much. Kids today do not know the joy and anguish of going to the library and researching the subject through dry and dusty tomes. While one needs a jaundiced eye while researching on the web (you needed one with books too), it is a great starting point.

I click and read as Leno faded to Conan. I jumped back to the novel. I jumped back to the computer and stopped myself. I turned off the lights. I turned off my son's TV and watched him sleep for a few moments. I crept to the bed and snuggled down into the soft mattress. I pulled the pillow under my left arm, sleeping on my stomach. I put my face under the pillow and sprawled my left leg against my wife's butt. She was inher usual sleeping position, curled like a fetus, her back to me. Her warmth on my leg was a nice contrast to the cool sheets. I uttered a quick prayer of thanks as I drifted off to sleep.

Cell Phone Self Portrait

Here is a picture I took of myself while sitting bored at the mall a few weeks ago while we were doing back-to-school shopping.

It is funny, we all have an image of ourselves. We view in our idols and heroes traits we have or would like to have. Many manly men identify with John Wayne or Clint Eastwood. When I was younger I idolized Errol Flynn. His dashing good looks coupled with a daring audacity appealed to me. As I read his autobiography I came to know he lived the adventurous life he played in the movies.

I am not Errol Flynn by any means. I am short and overweight. I do not carouse, womanize and party like the legendary swashbuckler. "In like Flynn" was just not a term, it described his legendary prowess with the ladies. I can only laugh when I compare my own life.

These days I am not sure whom I idolize. I wish I was more like my own Dad. He has worked hard, enjoys life, and was an exceptional father. I guess it is sad that at some point I gave up the fantasies of sailing the high seas rescuing maidens or walking the proud side of the law with the Duke. I am not Dirty Harry or Big Jake or Don Juan or Robin Hood. I am just a guy trying to make a living, raise his kids and find some humor in life. I can live with that. After all I really would not look good sporting a pencil-thin mustache.

Rambling Man

Bend you arms at the elbows 90 degrees so your hands are in front of you. Put your elbows close to your body. You should now look like you are ready to catch a large beach ball.

Is there anything natural about this position? Have you ever assumed this stance during a conversation? Me neither. Why do car salesmen on TV assume this posture during commercials? It annoys the crap out of me. Watch and see if at least eleventy-five percent of the talking heads on car ads adopt this position. Someone somewhere must have done a study that says this makes one look sincere or honest or something, because they all do it these days.

I said previously, is there anything more dreadful than preseason football? If you watched the Colts subs vs. the Bears subs last night you saw the Colts starters beat the Bears starters. Man, if I was a fan of da Bears I would be worried as heck about giving the reigns of my team to Rex Grossman.

Is anyone else sick of Vick? T.O. must be livid that someone else is getting all of the NFL publicity these days. I am sure he is plotting some outrage to recapture the headlines. If I were Michael Vick I would be pissed. He takes his old neighborhood homies, lets them leach off his fame and fortune. He sets them up in business, they are his boys, his posse. At the first sign of adversity they turn and rat him out. That my friends is a definition of scum sucking fair weather friends. On a completely different note, Peyton Manning is on the radio right now, he is funny as hell. He comes across as a very personable guy.

I hate to repeat myself. Seriously, I hate to repeat myself, but #@#$%$#& Cubs. I titled this post 'rambling man' because that is what this post is about -- rambling thoughts.

A Day in the Life

Last week the daughter dropped a jar of salsa that smashed on the floor smothering the walls, the floor, the door to the garage, and her Nike Shox with red gooey mess. We cleaned up, swept the floor, mopped and swept the floor again. I threw her shoes in the washer and amazingly the came clean.

The next morning, despite our extraordinary efforts, I stepped on a sliver of glass. The tiny puncture wound seeped blood for a couple of days and despite my best efforts the glass remains in the ball of my foot. The wound is healed over, but I feel a slight pain in my foot when I walk. There you have it -- an example of the drama that is my life.

ch-ch-ch-changes

I finally broke down and entered the mysterious and evil template to make some changes and add some links. The best way to see what is new is to click each and every link over there on the right. You will not be disappointed.

If you want a link or want to be removed why don't you drop me an email or a comment and I will do it while I am in the mood.

The perfect post

I should just quit. The perfect blog post has just been written. Go here to read it.

When you wish upon a star

I am sitting here daydreaming. It is one of my favorite pastimes. Old Walter Mitty has nothing on me. Like many of you I wish I had more money, or sex, world peace, or the opportunity to punch Hillary right in the snatch...

Today I have a very simple wish. I say it is a simple wish because I could easily make it come true with just a little effort. I just do not want to do the work. Here is my wish:

I wish someone would fry me some bacon.


What do you wish for?

Diversity

So the spouse and I were at Wal-Mart the other day. I know -- hot time in the city, but that is just how we roll. The lines are long as usual. Our local Wal-Mart boasts at least forty check out lanes. you can never find more than six open at any time. There are two women standing next to a cart overloaded with cases of bottled water. Under the basket, in the seat, tossed willy-nilly in the basket. Lots of water. The women are wearing burkas, sans the face covering, but they are Indians or Muslims of some kind.

Without missing a step the wife mutters, "They would not be so thirsty if they took of all of those black clothes."

We visited some friends of ours this evening. They related a story about their six year old daughter. The couple was recently taking a walk with their daughter. They passed a house occupied by a group of Hispanics. The Hispanics were playing music and dancing in front of the house. The little girl exclaimed " Look Momma, They are having a fiesta!"

You cannot beat Hoosier women of any age.

Pygmy Sex Pictures

Saturday. I should update my template, but I just do not feel like it. I owe a bunch of you some links. Pygmy Sex remains my number one search term. I am number two on Google for that search.

Can anyone explain why Smoky Joe Wood is not in the Hall of Fame? Also it is a crime that Gil Hodges and Ron Santo are left out.

The little brook in the backyard is dry as a popcorn fart. The flowers are wilting. This has been as dry a summer as we have had in a long while. The crops do not look so good, the corn is browning already. The beans look worn out.

We saw the movie Superbad last night. It is aptly named. There are lots of teenage-boy-wants to get laid movies out there. Watch American Graffiti, Dazed and Confused, or any of the American Pie movies instead. Trust me on this. In fact, I think I am going to pop Dazed and Confused into the DVD player right now.

Looky there, a whole post with nothing of consequence. I have developed an art form.

The King

I like Elvis Presley music. I love Elvis movies. His acting is not as bad as critics would like you to believe because he was the same character in every single movie -- Elvis. I heard an anecdote about Elvis that sums this up. Supposedly he was talking during the break on the set of one of his movies. The director called for Elvis to return to the set. He stood up, shook hands and said " Time to go be him." Most of us do not know what Elvis was like in real-life. I cannot believe he was 'on' all the time.

I have been to Graceland twice. The first time was just a couple of years after he died hugging the toilet in the upstairs bathroom. The house had just opened for tours and docents led the tour through the house. I was struck by several things, the absolute worship of Elvis by many on the tour. As the guide pointed out the horses in the meadow behind the house, one of the tourists asked if those were Elvis' horses. The guide said that they were not, but they were just like the ones Elvis had. The tourist wanted to know if they could pet the horses or cut some hair from their manes. Good Gosh, they are not the same horses! I was struck by the racketball court filled with gold and platinum records. I laughed at the white jump suits tailored to fit around Elvis' gut. I marveled at the people sobbing and crying hysterically at the grave site.

I returned a few years later with a friend. The tour was partially recorded and a guide spoke at certain points in the tour. "Here is the piano where Elvis spent many an evening singing gospel songs with his closest friends." Sure, while he was eating handfuls of bacon and Quaaludes. "This is the Jungle Room. Elvis bought all this furniture in a twenty minute shopping trip to Memphis." You can tell. Graceland looks like it was decorated entirely by purchases at garage sales. My friend thought it looked exactly like it was decorated by a guy who was born in a dirt floor shack in Tupelo, Mississippi who suddenly had more wealth than he could spend.

In the end, perhaps only the Beatles could understand the life Elvis was forced to live. The immense fame eclipsed his talent, his personality. He was forced to be Elvis twenty-four/seven. Even when he served his country he was "Elvis". He had given up his life years before. I can understand the rumors of Elvis working in a gas station in Michigan, a Burger King in Maine. He must have longed for a private life, yet he was constantly pulled by the most powerful addiction of all -- fame. No wonder drugs and booze and peanut butter and banana sandwiches claimed his life.

I spent a good portion of last night watching Elvis movies. I looked for no lessons in life, no hidden meanings. I wanted to be entertained. Elvis came through. He always did. RIP Elvis.

Lucky Man part two.

I wrote this post back in June describing what a lucky man I am. I will wait while you go reread it. This was one of my most popular posts ever in terms of comments. I promised a photo. I forgot to do it then, but here you go. See it while you can.



too slow. Just another exmple of why you need to check fat in indiana several times a day

Danke, Merci, Grazie, Gracias, Obrigado, Thanks

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Pledge Week

I do not ask for much from my readers, but now is time to step up to the plate. According to the little counter down on the bottom of the page I am about 125 hits from 50,000. I am not a patient man. Call your friends, call your neighbors, click and link and let us see if we can turn over the old counter as soon as possible.

I know 50,000 hits is the work of days and weeks for some of you, but for this little old blogger it is two years of working my typing fingers (both of them) to the bone. Only through your generous support can I keep providing you with the programming you love. If you want to keep getting high quality posts you can find nowhere else on the net, you should click often over the next twenty-four hours.

Hey -- if you will not do it for me, do it for the children, the puppies, the kittens, and for environment. Thank you in advance for your help in this difficult matter.

Go elsewhere for meaningful stimulation

Two down, one to go to school yet. He leaves tomorrow. It is sure going to be quiet around here with 2/3 of the chillren gone.

As I sit here contemplating my work for today it occurs to me I sure do need a vacation -- at the beach, in the mountains, anywhere but here.

!@#$%^& Cubs.

Three fer

My daughter returns to college today. She will be a junior. It was nice having her home. She is already talking about getting an apartment next summer, as she will have to take a summer class. That I do not like. You see, she will always be this girl in my mind:

Damn Computer

FINALLY, after going through:

A virus attack
Losing a hard drive
Fighting off hackers
Upgrading all my software
Installing firewalls
Being threatened with cut-off by my email provider
And a host of other problems...
I have fixed my computer... and NOW it works exactly the way I want it to!





---Otter

Smokin', indeed

I have told you before about my boyhood crush on Esther Willams. As we discussed yesterday, here is another of the old dames that was quite hot in her day -- the star of Bewitched, the deceased Elizabeth Montgomery. Hot, I am sure you agree.

Monday Musings

Coffee is done. I may make some bacon in a while.

Preseason football is tedious. There is no more to be said on that subject.

I had something important to write and by the time I got to the create post section, it slipped my mind. I must be getting old.

Carl Rove is making like horse shit -- hitting the trail. Who will the Dems claim is the evil genius behind the throne now?

That NASCAR race yesterday was fun to watch.

*&%$@#*&! Cubs.

Do they still make the Alley Oop comic strip? I read that thing from the time I was about eight until we moved here in 1989. My Mom and later my girlfriend used to cut them out of the paper and mail them to me every week while I was at college. Even my roommates were getting into it.

On the global warming hysteria front, summer continues. It is hot and humid. It is also still August. The little brook in the back yard is dried up. No snake sightings in months.

The little one started school today. He is not pleased. He is a big Eighth Grader. Next year he will be in High School.

I made lasagna for dinner last night. I served it along with a salad (with homemade dressing) and garlic bread. All five of us sat down and ate together -- the first time in ages. It was nice. I ate the last piece of garlic bread at about two in the am. I am not sure that was a great idea. What? You were not up watching the Rocky Marciano retrospective on ESPN Classic?

That chick that played Samantha on Bewitched -- she was hot.

Life lessons learned from a big rock

Stone Mountain, Georgia is this giant rock that pokes out of the ground near Atlanta. Internet sources I refuse to name claim it rises 825 feet above the surrounding plain. It is five miles in circumference. It is a big f-ing rock.

On the side of the mountain is a bas relief carving of three heroes of the Confederacy, Lee, Jackson and Davis. One could call it the redneck Mount Rushmore. One could, but I won't, it would be rude. You can ride a sky lift to the summit.

The family visited this attraction during a mini-vacation over spring break back in 1994. We hit Hotlanta and viewed the sites and this was on the agenda. We were checking out the area as my company was considering moving me to the Gainesville/Flowery Branch area. That is another post, we are talking about Stone Mountain here. The little one was really a little one then, he was not even a year old. The two oldest were five and seven. The little one was sleeping, so the wife stayed in the van with him ( the real reason was she was not remotely interested in Stone Mountain -- a sleeping baby was just an excuse) while I took the kids to the top.

We were riding to the top and the guide was talking about the carving. Since the kids were small, the kind people let us in the front so we could get a good view. The guide told us the carving covered three acres. The carved figures are nearly 90 feet tall. A man could stand inside a horse's ear. This sucker is huge. We are more than halfway up the mountain, the guide is telling us facts about the carving and I feel a tug at my elbow.

"I can't see it." says my son (5). The passengers move to give him an even better view. "I can't see it." even louder. I hold him up. Still he cannot see it. His sister, the guide, fellow passengers point to it. Talk about the inability to see the forest for the trees. The carving was so large he could not see it. He saw rocks, lines and shapes, but he was unable to see the carving. It was larger than his little mind could grasp.

We walked around the top and boarded the tram back down. Suddenly I heard a cry, the boy was pointing out the window. "I see a horse on that rock." he said. "Oh, there they are, three mans." I guess it is all a matter of perspective.

That young boy leaves for college this week. He is my cute little boy no more. He is a fine young man now. He is unprepared for life at college, for living on his own. He will survive. He will learn. At first, college will be like Stone Mountain, huge and imposing. In time he will see the details. He will succeed. I wish him joy, happiness and fun.

Boy, I am going to miss him.

A Personal post for Cappy...

Cappy, you have to check out Ralphd00d's pictorial of Girls of the Big Ten. Friday he did Purdue and Ohio State.

Saturday, in the park...

Smell that? Yep, those are brownies in the oven. I got up early to do a little baking. We are off today for a little get-together with my wife's family.

There is an air of gloom settled over the house. The youngest starts back to school on Monday. He is not thrilled. This past week he has had football conditioning every day. He sleeps till well past noon, and football from 3-5 every day he thinks he lost a week. I agree, mid-August is too early to go back to school.

The daughter returns to college Tuesday and the oldest boy moves into his college dorm on Thursday. It is going to be quiet and lonesome around here. It will be interesting how the youngest handles his brother moving to college. The boys have always shared a room. Lately they are not as close as they used to be. The five years difference is marked as they reach their teens. It will be interesting.

Zombie Snakes

I have said it time and again. These creatures are beyond foul and evil. They are even powerful as zombies. Kill them all -- just stay away from the bodies afterward. Bury them immediately.

Lunch with Jerry

I met Jerry from Back Home Again for lunch yesterday. What a great guy. It was strange, as soon as we sat down it was like talking to an old friend. I think it is a lot that we grew up at the same time in the same area. He went home and wrote some really nice things about me and my blog. Now I have to come up with something decent and inspired in order to live up to the hype. Damn you Jerry! I am just the proverbial monkey at the typewriter, and now I need to put random letters into Hemingway-type prose.

Jerry said he has the ultimate gross-out post in the can. He is right. Big Dick you have a challenger.

It is a shame Jerry and I have not met up sooner, but we will do it again soon.

I do believe in Global Warming, I do, I do

It is hot. It is August. It is summertime. It gets hot. It has to do with the tilt of the Earth and the relationship to the sun. It is cold and wintery in Argentina.

Get over it people. This happens every year.

I know you wish you were me

Travelled to Michiana today (Hey Freddie!). Got your handy-dandy atlas out? Not the home of the Studebaker -- east. No not that city -- further east. Yep, there I was. I would like to offer a special apology to the people in Elkhart, Warsaw, Wabash and Greenfield, Indiana who had to follow me in the various restrooms of gas stations, Arby's, and McDonalds. It seems my stomach problems from Monday revisited today. You DO NOT want details, trust me. I did manage to get through my customer meeting and plant tour without filling my khakis with butt gravy. Good for me. At least the car does not smell like rotten eggs -- I was afraid to fart.

On number 755

I decided I do not really give a shit if Barry Bonds breaks Hamerin' Hank's record. The Hall of Fame and the record books do not need to add an asterisk either. You see, I will know. In my mind Bonds is not legit. I believe he is a cheater, a drug user. They showed a graphic the other day and when the mentioned that Sosa was fifth on the homerun list my son glanced up at the screen and said Sosa was a cheater too. The kids of today know. For the next generation the records of the last twenty years will be a joke.

Baseball is a game I love above any other. There is something perfect in the symmetry of the diamond. The straight white lines, the precise measurements...sixty feet six inches... The almost fanaticism about statistics. The game is a mathematician's dream. Yet the symmetry, the preciseness of the field are balanced by the absolute randomness of some of the rules -- three strikes, four balls. A foul is a strike unless it is the last one, unless you foul bunting on the third strike. You can run if the ball is dropped by the catcher, if there are less than two outs and first base is unoccupied. There are entire pages in the rule book on what constitutes a balk! Let us not even discuss the infield fly rule. I was once asked to give a quick lesson in baseball to some European colleagues over lunch. We were going to a Phillies game that evening. Forget it. It was too complicated. Baseball is one of the few sports without a game clock. It is the only sport where the defense has the ball. It is all too crazy. That is why it is the perfect game -- precise, geometric randomness. Chaos with rules. Baseball was never made for TV. The subtle movements of the players, the shifts in and out right and left based on the batter, the situation and the pitcher all come into play. TV can never highlight these subtleties.

Yet, for a chance at success, at wealth, at fame the athletes have cheated. I suspect the same is true for every sport. I watched a series on steroids a year or two ago. I think it was Bob Costas' show on HBO. He interviewed baseball stars from the past. Almost to a man they agreed that if steroids had been around in their day they would have considered using them. If it meant running faster, hitting better, playing longer, they would have done it. This drive to be the best, the "by whatever means possible" attitude is perhaps why they were enormously successful athletes to begin with. How many of us have that drive to win, to succeed?

What would you do for fame, for money, for glory? Can we really blame Barry?

Happy Anniversary

Maybe this will remind the world not to start a war with the USA

TMI Monday

Thunder rumbles, but the rain is no more than sprinkles. I woke early again this morning, but as I sir here in the dark reading blogs and online news I realize I still have nothing to offer. I could update my template, there are few of you I need to add.

Saturday I had a call from Jerry at Back Home Again, but we were unable to meet up as we were just heading out the door to go back-to-school shopping. Whoo wee and whoo hoo. I do not possess the vocabulary to describe the fun we had.

We went to the root beer stand for lunch yesterday. The old fashioned kind, where they bring out the tray and hang it from your window. I deviated from my usual coney dog or double cheeseburger and ordered a BLT. I forgot to tell them no mayo, my error, so I scraped off what I could. As soon as I ate the sandwich I developed a pain in my gut. I spent most of last evening farting heavy foul smelling plumes of sulfuric gas that hung suspended in the air for minutes at a time. Even I thought they stunk. After watching the Cubs and the news I went to bed where the malodorous mustard gas woke me on occasion. This morning the gas has turned and churned in my intestines to create a tepid oozing diarrhea that explodes into the bowl. I am now forced to endure cramps, massive double-flusher shits and the indignity of having to clean the bowl after every dump. Bending over the lingering odor makes me want to barf. I think I may be sick.

I have been outed

I got out of bed this morning only to dicover:

I am outta coffee
I am outta orange juice
I am outta bacon
I am outta eggs
I am outta cheese
I am outta money (but I have bread)
I am outta patience
I am outta reading material
I am outta my mind
I am outta jokes
I am outta ideas
I am outta blog fodder

Dreams and Fantasies

Velociman wants his Popeye. Me, I want something a little more, shall we say "curvy"?

I told my wife she would make me a happy man if she bought me this. She just rolled her eyes. I guess I will have to take things into my own hands. After that, I might just order these bathing beauty movies myself. They will take the place of honor right next to my Rat Patrol DVD set.

Hello Blog World

Friday morning dawns bright and clear and I have nothing to say. Maybe after I peruse a few blogs over there on the right and read the fishwrap I will have something to entertain you. Maybe not. But don't be alrmed. I have other ways to spend this fine day -- there is always work.

Shark week

So, if I were a troll I would think twice before I insulted Kelly or antagonized Big Dick. Wonderful people. I just would not screw around with Dick. I cannot express my thanks to these kind people who spent their evening entertaining this traveler.

I saw a sight this morning that just cracked me up. I went down to the hotel breakfast. As I was finishing up a guy came in the breakfast room. He was middle aged. He was wearing highly polished black loafers and black socks pulled above his calves. I knew this since he was wearing plaid shorts. At first glance I thought they were boxers. He was also wearing a white V-necked undershirt. Comical.

WE had a big disappointment yesterday morning. Every time it looks like things are turning, the old Hoosierboy luck kicks in and the worst always happens. Some days it is hard to count your blessings as you are again beat to the canvas of life's boxing ring. I am a stubborn donkey and I get up, always fighting.

The Dallas Cowboys suck

I have arrived in the Big D. It looks like rain. The flight was the normal aerial bus, crowded. The lady sitting next to me stunk, she smelled like fish. You get the idea. Meeting Big Dick and Kelly later. I suspect a few drinks will be consumed. I am just guessing. If you are in the area come on down. Just call me and I will tell you where.

Maybe more later.

Run, MIke, Run

On getting old

I left home a little after seven in the morning yesterday. I returned five minutes before ten in the evening. My butt was sore. The meetings went well. As I pulled into the driveway I realized I forgot to put out the garbage cans before I left. I am not sure how I missed the others in the neighborhood as a reminder on my way out of town. This is the second time in three weeks I have missed trash day. Of course this means my garage will be filled with smelly trash bags until next Tuesday's pickup. I must be getting old and senile to forget basics like that. Perhaps I better stock up on adult diapers, I will soon forget what I am doing and shit my pants.