Weekend Funny

Here kitty, kitty...Look what we found..Aren't they cute?...Can we keep 'em...Please, please, puhleeeeeze?...Daddy?...Are you all tight?...Mommy, Daddy fell over again just like he does when he drinks his beer...

What is up with my brain? I cannot wake up on weekdays, yet every weekend my eyes pop open at an unGodly hour. Ok, I admit it -- I crack me up. I guess most of you did not find the T-shirt thing very funny. You have no idea how long it took to find the celebrity pictures. Oh, well, I entertained me, and that is what it is all about. I bet you thought I was supposed to be all about making Your day better. You have not been reading here long, huh?

A ton of travel is on the schedule for this week. Posting may be spotty. There will be a big, and I mean Huge, very special post here tomorrow. It would be best if you click on this website early and often. You do not want to miss out. A clikee every seven minutes or so would be about right.

I though my coffee maker was dying yesterday. It worked fine today though. The sky has a steel gray light this morning. I suspect we are in for a day of rain. The yard is soaked and the creeks and streams are already swollen from the heavy rains last week. If it keeps it up I will have to mow the lawn in early April. We have some of those giant decorative grasses. My Mom says I need to cut them back. How far? Do I just cut the tall part of the whole thing? How do I cut it? Will hedge trimmers work? Look at that: three separate ideas in one little paragraph. A clear example of poor writing and the dysfunctional ramblings of my brain. I am sorry to say a conversation with me is about as random. I think I am losing it.

The boy is off to DC tomorrow. We have to leave for the airport a little before four in the morning. After that I have a long day of driving in front of me. I probably should try to go to bed early this evening. That means I will have to skip my Sunday afternoon nap. Man, the sacrifices I make for my kids.

Here is a random fact about me -- I blog on a black, wooden chair. That means after a couple hours of reading your blogs, my ass gets tired of sitting. I guess that means your blogs are all a big pain in the ass! Hah! I crack me up, really I do.

Friday I watched The Song Remains the Same The Led Zeppelin movie chronicling their 1970's era concert in New York. The movie is interspersed with fantasy scenes. That is one band I would have liked to seen back in the day. I am sure a lot is lost in the transition to video, but wow. I first saw this flick back in the 1980's on VHS. The kids bought me the remastered version on DVD for Christmas. I will let you borrow it, just let me know. You have to send me a picture in a plain white T-shirt though. Yep, like a bulldog, I let nothing go. I know one other thing, this whole post stinks. Look back at the top -- life is a full circle, baby.

The Hoosierboy Army

Here is a famous Hoosier who could not wait to get his Fat in Indiana T-shirt. He wears it with pride:

This guy insisted he wear his in a movie. Watch for him to give fellow members of the Hoosierboy Army the high sign early in the third act:

These famous actresses are often seen sporting the sexy HB Honey Tank Top:

This hot Hollywood couple is seen wearing the Top Selling HB Signature Formal Shirt for her and the classic Fat in Indiana Tee for Men in this picture:

Have you ordered yours? All the cool people are wearing it!

I am so excited

I have decided to take this old blog to a new level. I have developed a semi-devoted following and in order to get my readership levels higher I need to do some advertising. In that spirit, I have introduced a new line of Fat in Indiana T Shirts. I know you will be proud to wear a shirt that proclaims to the world, I read Hoosierboy! Be the first on your block, in your school, at WalMart to be part of the Hoosierboy Army. What is really cool is you do not need to go to some fly-by-night dot com or hit a paypal button to get these shirts. I promise to make them available right in your town!

In keeping with my sooper sekrit identity, these shirts proclaim your allegiance to this site, while keeping our anonymity. Hoosierboy T-shirts will be hiding in plain sight. You will know when you see a fellow HBer, you will be in your own secret, mucho-exclusive club. A subtle nod, wave or high sign will seal the unspoken pact -- I read Fat in Indiana.

Here is the Men's version:

It is also available in the popular V-Neck:Ladies, I have not forgotten about you:

Maybe you prefer a Tank top shirt for summer wear:
And finally, I know some of you hot ladies have a secret crush on the old Hoosierboy. What better way to live out your fantasies than by putting my clothing line right on your most erotic girl parts. Just for you, there is a line of Fat in Indiana undies. These are emblazoned with the same super secret non-viewable image found on our T-Shirts. You can sleep with your man, and HB at the same time! Your love life will never be the same:

This exclusive line of clothing can be found at WalMart, K-Mart, Walgreens or at most major department stores. I can also ship direct, Just send $29.95 (cash only) to me and I will ship a preworn, autographed shirt to you.

Do not miss out. Order now, supplies may be limited. Hurry, if you buy in the next week or two a special three pack can be yours.

Support the Hoosierboy, order now!

As a special bonus, send me a picture wearing your Fat in Indiana T-shirt and I will post it. You are part of the Hoosierboy Army!

For Sieg

1602

I wish I had something to say today. I have no anecdotes, stories, opinions, rants, lies or bullshit to fling in your direction. Some of you may think that a good thing. I have one last picture/cartoon for weekend funnies. I think it is the best of all. Should I go ahead and publish it?

Preparations

No, not the H kind.

The boy is getting ready for a school trip to DC next week. I have to have him at the airport by 4:45 in the am Monday. He will hit the sights of the Nation's Capital and return Wednesday evening. Arlington, Mount Vernon, the White House, the Mall, the Capitol, the Pentagon, the Smithsonian, and a dinner cruise along the Potomac are all on tap. The cherry trees might even be in bloom if the weather warms a bit. He is excited about the trip. He will be bummed when he returns and realizes he spent half of his spring break actually learning something. Education and knowledge sometimes sneaks right up on you when you least expect it.

I know he will be safe, but a little prayer that the terrorist stay away next week might be in order. That very idea is a sad commentary on the world of today, isn't it?

Say it ain't so...

I am low today. My faith in humanity is crushed. I will no longer trust in anyone.

Read this.

I am shocked. Words cannot express my complete dismay to find out a Clinton lied about something. I had so much respect for the entire family prior to this. What next, will we discover Bill cheated on her?

I going to hide my belts and shoelaces. I am officially on suicide watch...

Imagine

Let us envision a scenario where the current economic fuzziness continues down the path of a true recession. The dollar keeps dropping, inflation slices through the marketplace on the back of rising oil and food prices, and consumers lose confidence. As factory orders drop, layoffs hit the local factories. Unemployment surges to levels we have seen in this country for a generation. What if 6,8,10% unemployment hits your community?

What if you were a young American struggling to provide for your family and the local parts plant begins a series of layoffs? The plant does the right thing, laying of the newly hired first. What if you were out of work and the next guy on the line who had been there a month or a year longer kept his job? What if the still employed worker was an illegal alien, or maybe just working on a green card?

I am thinking the beatings the old-time Steelworkers put on scabs at the Homestead Strike could be mild in comparison.

I am certainly not advocating such recourse, merely pointing out that I have spent my life around manufacturing and I could see such things happening.

Weekend Funny

Probably not appropriate for Easter.

Weekend Funny

Insanity

Lately I have taken great delight in totally fucking with the minds of strangers. I will see a person at places like the grocery, the library, the video store or WalMart and I will give them a wave or greet them with a hearty "Hey, how are you"? It puts them in an uncomfortable position of having to acknowledge me. Of course the stranger has no more idea of my identity than I theirs. They spend the next several minutes trying to figure out who I am and how they know me. I did this several times on my trips last week. There is a nice old lady in Davenport, Iowa still trying to identify the middle aged guy at the steak place. I left a guy dumbfounded at the library last night.

What is amusing is that 99 times out of 100 the stranger will greet me back. Many times they have a confused look on their face, but they offer a cheerful "What's going on" or "Hi" or at least a nod.

At this stage in my life I have to look for thrills where I can get them. By the way, How's it goin'?

One April Morning

He opened his eyes and for a moment and did not know where he was. It was the grey twilight of predawn. The dew was heavy and there was a thin veil of fog drifting from the river. He heard the snap of twigs and the hard breath as someone blew on the previous nights embers. A few more huffs and he heard the pop of the wood as the fire caught hold of the kindling.

He rolled from his blanket and made his way through the thick underbrush behind the camp. He unbuttoned his fly and relieved himself. He pulled up his suspenders and buttoned the top button of his shirt. As he walked to the fires he picked up a few sticks for fuel. He stopped at his blankets and pulled on his jacket and wide brimmed hat. He shivered a little as the eastern sky grew pink. Jacob Hoffert offered a prayer of thanks for the new day.

Steeling himself, he reached for his haversack and moved toward the nearest fire. He saw Jonathon there. Jonathan was the last of his original mess. His pard Isaac had gotten bronchitis and was left behind 12 days ago. Seth had simply disappeared. Along with Jonathan, the four had been childhood friends back home. Jonathan had always been kind of a bully, teasing him about his size. As Jacob approached Jonathan said something to the man across the fire. The man turned to look at Jacob and rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. Jacob dropped the armful of wood next to the fire. "Watch it runt" said William Hazlett, who was even bigger than Jonathan. As Jacob squatted next to the fire the wind changed, blowing the smoke from the green wood into his face. Jacob tipped his canteen into the lidded coffee boiler and set it near the flames. Matthew Walker joined the others around the fire. He stirred the embers and knocked a large piece of wood into Jacob's mug, knocking it over. "Hoffert, you are just a Jonas" Walker said, shaking his head.

Jacob reached deep into his haversack and found a cotton poke. In it was a handful of coffee beans he had roasted the previous evening. He had taken the beans and placed them in his rubber blanket, then pounded them into rough grounds with his rifle butt. He righted his cup, added some more of his precious water and dropped in a scant handful of coffee. Jacob noticed the others' envious looks and reluctantly offered the bag. He knew these men, who treated him so badly, would not hesitate to use his whole stash. When the poke was returned, only a thumbwidth of coffee remained in the bottom of the bag.

Walker placed a skillet on the embers and began slicing some salt pork. Jonathon was breaking hard tack into pieces to fry in the grease of the pork. In the distance they heard the sentries fire off the charges from the night before. A few more shots sounded up and down the line. They all looked toward the Southwest as a few shouts were heard, but the call was too far off to make out the words. Motion and more shouts were moving up the line as the firing began to grow heavier than merely the pickets clearing their Springfield rifles. The firing grew into a steady roar as the sound of the long roll was heard. More and more drums took up the call. The soldiers snatched up their accoutrements as their own drummer beat his skins. The officers echoed the shout of "Fall In" as the men raced to the stacked arms, breakfast forgotten.

The bullets began to crash through the branches as the men fell into a rough line before the stacked muskets. "Take arms" was followed by a hasty "load" as the shouts and shots of the Rebel soldiers became clear to their right and front. At the far left of the line --the 'short' end -- Jacob felt the First Sergeant at the left end of K Company move in line next to him. Everyone was loading in haste as the men in butternut erupted from the treeline 30 yards away. They stopped in a rough line and fired a volley. Half of Jacob's own C Company and all of K Company turned and ran. Jacob hastily brought his rifle to full cock and fired a shot without aiming. He turned and ran towards the ridge behind him. The hungry Southerners stopped to loot the camp and pluck the burning bacon from the fire.

The company reformed and fell back to the treeline. A clearing was before them. The armies stood toe to toe, the shots buzzing through the trees and undergrowth like a swarm of hornets around their nest. Jacob fired. His shoulder ached and his face and mouth were black from the powder as he bit into the cartridges. Constant curses and shouts of "dress center" and "close up" came from behind him with numbing regularity as his comrades bled and died in the line. After a few hours there was a lull in the fighting. The shots and killing did not stop, it just became less heavy. Ammunition was brought forward and Jacob took a drink from the brackish water in his nearly-empty canteen. He could see the Rebels rolling artillery into place across the clearing. The sound of battle was so loud he was nearly deaf. He heard a thump like a dropped melon and saw Matthew Walker's head explode in a red mist.

Suddenly the late morning was split with a mass barrage of cannon shot and shell. Branches fell from overhead killing the lieutenant. Pieces of wood flew from the trees as parts of bodies erupted in fountains of blood. The smoke hid the carnage as Jacob Hoffert loaded and fired, loaded and fired. The big guns spurted flame as if the gates of Hell were opening, men died calling for their mother and a few crawled to the rear and hopeful safety. With a blood curdling yell a wave of men in grey and butternut uniforms erupted from among the canon. With bayonets fixed they charged the Union line in the treeline. Jacob Hoffert felt a stinging blow across his side as he was grazed by a musket ball. He did not notice the blood crusting his head from a falling chunk of wood, blasted down by the case shot of the Confederate guns.

The line fell back again. This time to the river. A short heavy officer with a dark beard directed him into line with other troops he did not know. Units were mixed, makeshift regiments formed from individual companies and soldiers. Jacob was hungry and thirsty. As darkness fell, the firing to the front slowed and finally ceased. He fell into a restless sleep born from exhaustion. Suddenly the night sky blazed in red as the gunboats in the river began firing on the Confederate lines.

A body dropped down beside him, it was Jonathan. "God, I am glad to see you" Jonathan said. "I thought we were all gonners". Jacob Hoffert could only nod his head in the dark. He hurt all over and the pain in his skull only seem to intensify the burning crease on his side. Jonathan handed him a damp piece of hardtack. It had a bitter taste, from mud or blood, he did not want to know.

"What happened?" he asked his childhood friend. "The Rebs were supposed to be in Corinth."

"I guess they was here instead. They must of not got the message". deadpanned Jonathan.

"And where is here?" Jacob spoke the words so softly he was barely heard.

"Well the sign on that little white church back by camp said Shiloh Meeting House. I guess that is where we is". Jonathan looked at his scrawny friend, sighed and rolled his eyes.

Happy Spring

It is 12:05 am, the first day of spring. Friday is a Holiday, so I might just knock off early today. I already know what I will be having for dinner -- beef and noodles, my most favorite meal ever. The wife has promised to make a chocolate cake. I deserve it.

It is my Birthday. 46...I don't mind saying. I never thought I would make 25.

Confessions of a bigot

I was driving back from the Quad Cities yesterday listening to coverage of B Obama's speech on race relations. I became so angry and agitated I actually pulled over at the next rest stop and dashed out the Where do you stand post below from my phone. I guess I am different, but if I heard my white grandmother, my brother, my pastor, my friend utter the phrase "God Damn the United States of America" and mean it, I would have to seperate ties. I am serious. There are some things in life you cannot pass off as eccentricities, or background or the mutterings of your crazy uncle. You cannot call my wife or daughter the c-word, and to side with those who want to destroy my Nation would fall into that category. My eldest son has rarely pissed me off more than when he claimed that Japan was in every way superior to the United States. He can have his wrong notions all he wants, but I will not listen to them in my house. If that makes me close minded and a bigot, I can live with that.

Obama talked a lot about race relations in this country. I have some comments on that subject and a commentary has been spinning in my mind since yesterday. I am smart enough to know what I want to say, but I am afraid my communication skills are not good enough to get my point across.

I grew up during the 1960's and 1970's. This was the time of dramatic changes in race relations in this country. My brother and I were raised that all men were equal, that skin color was no different than hair or eye color; mere genetics. We were taught to pick sides in hide-and seek or sandlot baseball games using the rhyme 'eenie meanie miny moe, catch a tiger by his toe'. When the neighbors subsituted 'nigger' for 'tiger' Otter and I would correct them, explaining that word was not nice.

I grew up in a unique situation. You see, while there were many Hispanics in my small town, there were no blacks. I do not think there were any in the entire county. I had my first conversation with a person of African-American decent while at Boy Scout Summer Camp. A troop from inner city Indy was the next campsite down the trail at Ransburg Reservation. I was disapointed I could not have cornrows too. I admittedly approach race realtions from a one-sided and narrow point of view. I cannot have the benefit of the other side of the argument.

Do not get me wrong. I am no saint. I have told my share of jokes denigrating persons of color. I have also joked about Poles, Italians, Germans, Frenchies, Russians, Californians, Indians, Chinese, Mexicans, Japanese, Kentuckians, Hoosiers...well, you get the idea. I have used the "N" word. I have also said spic, wetback, chink, gook, kraut, commie, sambo, mavro, polock, jap and other denigrating terms. I also inhaled.

Are race relations in this country perfect, no. Are things better? I hope so. As a Conservative, I believe the Constitution offers all an equal opportunity for success and happiness. It does not guarantee that success. Today there is no excuse for any person, regardless of color, to be uneducated. No one is condemned to a life of crime or poverty or welfare. There are twice as many scholarships available to blacks as there are for whites. Any of you who have gone through that process or who have kids in college can attest to that fact. If you are poor, the Government (ie the rest of us) will pay for your education. And unlike my kids, who will be burdened with education debt the size of a mortgage, you will enter the job market debt free.

As a white male, I am tired of shouldering the blame for the ills of the Black Community. The first Hoosierboys to arrive here were pushed from their German homeland because they were Protestant at the end of the Thirty Years War. Arriving here in the ealry 1700's there is no record of a member of my family ever owning a slave. The other branch of my family arrived in the post Civil War. As a child my Great-Great Grandmother was orphaned. She was placed on a train and sent westward, dropped off in Boone County, Indiana. She was 'adopted' by a family. In reality, she was free servant labor throughout her youth. The only difference between her lot in life and that of a slave is if she ran away, likely no one would chase her. I do not shout and scream and Blame the Germans or the Catholics or the well-intentioned (or not) Clergy that sent my ancestors from their homes. We moved on.

For those like the Reverand Wright that bemoan the white man for slavery he should consider a few facts. Nearly all of the successful slave traders in Africa were fellow Africans. I am not talking about the white colonists of South Africa either, I am talking about fellow blacks. Instead of damning me and every other 'whitey', the Reverand Wright should get down on his knees and thank God every day his ancestors were ripped from the heart of Africa and brought to these United States where the life in even the worst neighborhoods is luxury compared to most of Africa. Like the Jews who wandered the desert behind Moses, the Reverand Wright's ancestors suffered so he could have a better life. Is it perfect -- No. We all wish it were better.

Two great-great granfathers were veterans of the Civil War. Andrew Hoosier enlisted in Company I, 150 Indiana. John B served in Company C, 7th Iowa Cav. I firmly believe these men gave up their youth, their innocence and in the case of Andrew, his health to end slavery. My family made their payment for Slavery Reparations 140 years ago.

My long-winded point is the Reverand Wright and Al Sharptons and Jessee Jacksons of the world need to take a hard look at themselves. Is it my fault that a 'gangsta' culture has permeated the Black Community? Is it my fault that education is decried and anyone who wants to escape the mind-numbing cycle of drugs and poverty and gangs and welfare and lack of hope is branded an Oreo? And you B. Hussein Obama, how dare you blame Reagan Conservatives. Prior to the Great Society of LBJ were black families fatherless? True study shows the crime rate among blacks was lower than that of whites prior to the advent of the Welfare State. Mr. Obama you only want to perpetuate that policy, and increase the dependence of your Black Community on the Government. I understand you are running for President, and your whole speech was mere politics, but shame on you, sir.

Am I bigot? Maybe. Do the young black men with their hats askew and pants belted below their ass sauntering through the mall cause me to watch warily? Yes, so does a bearded tattooed white guy in biker leathers. It is my duty as a husband and father to protect my family from possible danger. Do I look with disdain on those who speak Ebonics and fail to learn the rudiments of American English? Yes. I speak with a certain patois with my friends and family. You could easily hear me say " We was goin'..." or "ain't got no" in an ordinary conversation. But with strangers, or with customers, I speak with correct grammar. Certainly, if you cannot speak the language, your ability to get a job is limited.

What I am trying to say, unsuccessfully, is if there is a race relations problem in this country, I am not sure the white guy is the culprit. Not this one anyway. Help me Obama Wan Kenobi, show me the way. In the end, I confess I do not get the hate. How have I caused Black-on-Black crime? What have I done to create a culture where one in four Black men spend time in prison? How am I responsible for the explosion of teen pregnancy and broken families in the Black Community? According to the Reverends Jackson/Sharpton/Wright even asking those questions makes me a hate-filled bigot. I guess I am guilty as charged.

Edit I guess I could have saved a lot of time and word-heavy effort and just told you to read this. There is always some smart one out there that says what I want sooo much better...

Questions, questions

If a white candidate for the office of President of the US had Fred Phelps on his Religion advisory committee or David Duke as a political advisor or one of those preachers that shouted the racial slurs at those little girls in Little Rock as the schools were desegregated do you think B Obama would have the opinion that "that is their nature" and "part of who they are" and that discussing those political views does nothing to move forward race relations? Just a thought.

Where do you stand?

I joke around a lot here. I want to make a statement in as clear and straight forward language as possible.

Any person who states that the 3,000 innocent victims of September 11 might have deserved to die because of the domestic or foreign policies of the USA is despicable human being and no better than the terrorist who committed the cowardly murders.

Any politician that excuses, justifies, and overlooks such hateful commentary because of real or perceived racism is just as evil. The condoning of murder can never be excused.

Never mind Obama lied all weekend about knowing his pastor held anti-American views. Never mind my profound differences in politics. The tacit acceptance and refusal of B Obama to disown a supposed minister of God for saying innocent people got what they deserved just for living in this nation is inexcusable.

If you agree with the Reverend Wright, you are also a hate-filled evil person. This is not politics or a question of free speech. This calls into question your decency as a human.

Learn Something

A year or so ago I read David McCullough's book about John Adams. McCullough has long been one of my favorite historians. He writes history like a fiction novel. Well-researched, his books are always great reads. If this author can make the building of the Panama Canal exciting, imagine what he can do with one of our Founding Fathers and Abagail Adams. Mrs. Adams was a brilliant educated woman.

I watched the first two episodes of the Tom Hanks produced miniseries based on the book John Adams. It is terrific. It should be required watching in every school in this nation. Every elected official in the nation should be forced to watch an endless loop until they understand the role of Government and the Rights of Man.

Too bad the show is on HBO. I do not get that at home. Unless the box price is too high I will own this series when it comes out.

What I saw on Mulberry Street

As I stand on this big blue ball we call home, I remain in place because of a mysterious force we call gravity. I am glad because I get to see some of the strangest things. On Friday I bopped to the local, non-chain grocery to pick up some Rice Krispies and marshmallows for the wife. ( Put on your chef's hat and guess why she wanted those ingredients).

There was a hand lettered sign on the magazine rack beside the register:

The Sports Illistrated Swimsuit Addition is at the front office [sic]


I tried to take a covert picture, but the line was short and the clerk was giving the eye. I guess laughing to yourself in the checkout line makes you look suspicious. I may go back today for another attempt.

Then last night I pulled behind a car. In huge letters that covered the back window was a message written in that window chalk/paint. It was decorated with little hearts. Here is the message:

I (drawing of a heart) titties.

Me too. But I do not paint it in foot high letters on my rear window.

Good morning world

I have been awake since a little before 4:00am. Not out of necessity, but because my old buddy insomnia stopped by again for a visit. That is always a great way to start a day when I am facing a five hour drive. It looks as if the entire drive will be in the rain. I do not posses the vocabulary to express how thrilled that makes me.

The NCAA brackets are set. Did your team make it? Did they get screwed by the seedings? Have you filled out you guesses yet? Do not bother, the lady in accounting who has never watched a college basketball game in her life is going to win the office pool. It always works that way.

I did not win the Powerball Jackpot Saturday. I am not surprised. I did not buy a ticket. Make that about three years in a row now I have failed to make a contribution to the redneck retirement plan.

It was chilly yesterday, but the sun was out. I grilled some steaks and made a nice salad and some baked spuds. I had originally planned on making beef and noodles, but the steaks looked pretty good when I went to the store.

Are you bored with this yet?

Weekend Funny

This week's Weekend Funny is dedicated to the late great Big Dick's Place. Those of us who were regular readers miss his humor and wit. Those who never read it wish they had.

A big mix up

My wife has the worst luck sometimes. A few years ago she actually was pulled over and issued a warning ticket for going 67 mph in a 65 zone.

Three weeks ago while I was travelling she was pulled over. The cop told her her right headlight was out. She said she did not think so, usually you can tell if the right light is out. He walked around the truck and looked at the lights. He tapped the headlight and shrugged. He said it was working bow, but it was out before. He gave her a written warning. He was nice about it and apologetic, but that he was required to report and document every stop. He said the local police were no longer able to give verbal warnings. Let me say again -- the light was ON. She was outraged, I almost went to the police station to complain. I pulled, tugged, hit, tapped, and did everything possible to see if the light had a short. For the past three weeks it has worked fine.

This morning, I was parked behind her SUV when she had to go to work. I had to move my car so she could get out. One of life's great mysteries was solved. Her right BRAKE light is out. I guess from the time he spotted her to when he walked up to the window the policeman forgot the infraction. I checked the warning ticket and it clearly says right headlight.

Sometimes Life is funny. Especially when it happens to our spouse.

Illegal Immigrants go home

I just read in the Indianapolis Star that efforts to stem the tide of illegal immigration to the State of Indiana has failed in committee. legislation was proposed taking away the business license of any business that knowingly hired illegals -- after third offense. My only complaint was why not after the First offense. Representatives from both parties gutted and killed the bill in conference committee. The people of Indiana have been screwed. A Hispanic Lobbyist claimed a great victory.

Am I the only one sick of our politicians selling out the American People?

Return of the Jedi

I wrote three posts while I was traveling. Mobile Blogger said all was fine, but they disappeared into the Ethernet. I do not know where they posted, but it was not here. If you are having random posts appear on your blog, let me know.

Anyhoo, after several visits to my customers and lots of driving I am home. Here are a few highlights. I drove down the narrow and very rough Indiana Toll Road. I followed a Semi in the left lane going exactly 65-1/32 mph. He was passing a truck in the right lane going exactly 65. It took nearly 20 miles for him to pass. The line of cars in the left lane stretched as far as I could see in my review mirror. I nearly stroked out screaming and yelling at that jackass. It kept me awake at least.

As you probably know you curbside waiting is no longer allowed at American Airports. Most airports have officers that walk the terminal sidewalk enforcing the rules. In typical Chicago fashion they drive around and pull behind the offending vehicle and blow the siren and use a loudspeaker to issue the "move on" warnings. I was picking up the President of our company. I had already made a couple of circuits around lovely O'Hare and he was walking across the inner road to the outer island so I could pick him up. I pulled to the curb when he was about 30 yards away. The police van followed me to the curb. As soon as I stopped he blew his siren a short blast. I pointed at my passenger. The cop told me to move on from his loudspeaker. The boss approached the car and I popped the trunk open. This infuriated the officer. He blew a longer blast and shouted for me to close the trunk and move NOW. I got out and told them my passenger was right there -- pointing to the 6'4" person TEN FEET from my car. The cop leaned out and said "I don't care, drive around". The boss threw his bag in the trunk and jumped in as the cop was getting out with his ticket book. I threw the car in gear and left. I was at the curb less than one fucking minute total by the dashboard clock.

I broke from staying at my traditional Hampton Inn and stayed one night in a brand new Hilton Garden Inn. The room was nice, comfortable and spacious. Cool LCD screen TV, mini-fridge etc. My only complaint was the $5.95 for a continental breakfast. The room was only five bucks more than the Hampton one block away, and I got a heap of bonus points for staying there.

More travel next week. It is good to be me.

Waiting

Here I sit drinking a cold Bud and waiting on my bacon cheeseburger. I am in one of the west 'bubs of Chicago. It will be another night in another hotel. I can look forward to the same tomorrow. Just a different town. I am not complaining. Just saying posting will be light. Treo blogging does not lend itself to long posts.

Learn Something Today

Thomas Hendricks lived a large portion of his life in Shelbyville, Indiana. He was the twenty-first Vice President, serving under Grover Cleveland. He died after serving just a few months in office. His distinction is he is the only Vice President of the US (that was not later President) to have his picture placed on United States Currency. Here is his silver certificate. Notice the picture is shaped like a tombstone.



You can see a better image of the front and back here.

See, you learned something...Me too.

Up yours Ben Franklin

Thanks Daylight Savings Time for making the kids go to school in the dark. It was nice in the last few weeks that I could see the kids at the bus stop and it was light enough I did not have to worry about picking off youngsters walking to school in my neighborhood. Now it is again pitch dark as the kids head to school.

It was nice that it did not get dark until 7:30 last evening. Of course the energy I saved by it being light in the evening I compensated for by having to turn more lights on this morning. At least the golf industry will make more money since now players can get in nine before dark -- if it was not wet and cold and in some cases snowy.

Ben Franklin was a genius, but DSL DST was not one of his best ideas.

On a completely unrelated note, I thought I would never be surprised by the nerve of the Clintons. They must both have steel testes the size of bowling balls. They are LOSING in the race for the Democrat Presidential nomination and they firmly believe B. Husein Obama-rama should give up and accept the job as VP. If he is so stupid to accept this role, He should be very careful about accepting any plane rides. After all, the Clinton;s will be in charge of the White House travel office...

I am just sayin'.

A post for Sunday

In 1980 I was working a summer job at a local ketchup factory. My job was to sweep, clean, and run the various machines while the regular operator was on break. I rotated down the line giving breaks until I reached the last station and then I took my break. Since everyone else already had a break, I usually ate alone at lunch. It was not a bad job as far as summer employment went. It was a Teamster shop and I made decent money.

One day I was eating my lunch when one of the maintenance guys walked in. He was tall and thin and about middle aged. At the time he was one of the 'old guys' to me. He was eating late because he was working on a piece of machinery at his normal break time.

I was nearly done when he walked into the break room. He stopped in surprise when he saw me there. He peered at me under the rim of his green hardhat (I wore yellow as a worker bee). "Good", he said. "I've been looking for you."

"You Have?", I responded.

"Yes. God told me to talk to you. He said you need to hear his Word." He told me this with such a complete tone of sincerity, it made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. To be honest, it scared me a little. I made my excuses about having to get back to the line, blah, blah. He handed me a pamphlet and said he would talk to me tomorrow.

I went back to work with the arrogance of my agnostic youth. Later, I found the incident humorous. For a long time I laughed about it. Over time I grew, if not atheist, at least indifferent to God. Eventully, I came to grips with my beliefs. I began to pray, to believe again. It is hard to hold a newborn child and not believe in a higher being. Now, I thank God every day for the wonderful things he has given me. I pray to be a better person. I do not go to church. I wish I had taken my kids to church. The background a religious upbringing can offer is essential. But, to mix the metaphor -- it is just spilled milk under that bridge.

Today, I am comfortable with my God. I know what I believe and you can worship as you will. I do not buy into the Christian doctrine that is my job to convert you. I do not need you converting me. I will go to Hell for that maybe. Some days I am concerned about my earlier rejection of God. I once read a passage in the Bible that states that God has no time for those that heard the Word, believed, and rejected It. I have asked for forgiveness. I guess when I reach the Peal-encrusted entryway Old Moses will let me know.

I did not mean to write a post on religion. I wanted to tell the story about the guy at work. He told me with such absolute sincerity that God told him to talk to me. I still think about that moment. I handled it very badly.

A few weeks ago I had lunch with a major customer. In the course of conversation it came up that we grew up at the same time in the same area. He told me that back when he was a line supervisor he had a maintenance guy who worked for him that was from my little town. He said this particular maintenance guy used to work at the ketchup factory before it closed. I told him I worked there for a summer. Mr. Customer said "This guy was strange. He was good at his job, but was really religious. He once told me God told him to talk to me." After he described the guy, I knew it was the same man. I related my break room story.

I guess the maintenance man eventually packed it up and moved to an Indian Reservation out west and opened a church. Sometimes life is really weird.

Weekend Funny

Weekend Funny

That is what I just might do today. It is friggin March. Come on Mother Nature. Spring is in days, people. For the sake of AlGore why is there 4-6-8? inches of snow in my drive? If you did not know, it is really flat here. Not Kansas or Iowa flat -- they have gently rolling hills. I am talking the flat of North and Central Ohio/Indiana/Illinois. That means I have drifts you can measure in feet. I will give you an example. My patio table is protected on three sides by the house and a privacy fence. The prevailing winds are blocked. One end of the six foot table has about two inches of snow on it. This is the exposed end. The other side of the six foot table has about 8 inches of snow. I know some of you have it worse, this amount of snow is no big deal. It isn't here either, in January. It is March already, AlGore. Bring on the global warmin'.

Casual Friday

D'ja miss me?

Lots of travel this week. Even more next week. I was going to go off on a rant about how stupid the weathermen are, but I have done that and everyone agrees. Suffice to say that the weather quack actually cut his forecasted snow totals in half from the beginning of the news to his allotted weathercast at 14 after. Unfuckingbelievable.

One cool thing about travel is that I get to see cool stuff like this:


Can anyone guess where I was Wednesday/Thursday based on this image? I will give you a further hint. Did you watch Jeopardy last night? The city/county was the answer to one of the clues.

Wednesday Wanderings

Here I am multitasking through nearly a dozen open windows on my PC. Work calender here, dealing with a Request for Quote from two different customers (sadly I have to offer a "cannot help you" to both), arranging a visit with another. The blog and both personal and work email programs are running. I have dropped several non-sensical comments at various blogs. Living examples of why I do not, and should not, comment too often. Strother Martin is screaming deep in my cerebellum that I 'have a failure to communicate' with every stroke of the keyboard any time I try to leave a comment. I am also doing a couple loads of laundry. There is one in the dryer and one in the wash. I know, I just made a number of women horny...

I am leaving later today to the northern part of my little state. There is a meeting with a potential new customer first thing in the morning. I will be back to the same town, same hotel in exactly one week. Sometimes customers do not arrange meetings to my whims. Oh, well, windshield time pays the same as face time with customers.

I was glad to see Hillary win yesterday. The longer the two leftists fight for the Dimocrit nomination, the money they have to spend. The more it tears the party apart. My wife echoed the sentiments of many when she said " I do not want any of them".

Is winter over yet?

Arrrrgggghhhhh

Last Thursday I was preparing some thin sliced ribeyes to cook on the grill for steak sandwiches. I smothered them in Dale's Sauce. I cleaned out my fryer to make some french fries. I scrubbed it out and added new oil. When I turned it on the lights all worked but the oil did not get hot. The 'ready' light was on but when I dropped the basket there was no pop and whoosh you get when you put frozen french fries into hot oil. I waited a while still nothing. I dropped in a drip of water -- nada. The sides of the fryer were cold. I dipped a handle of a wooden spoon and touched it. The oil was room temperature. I guess the shock of cleaning the little bastard was too much. I baked the fries.

My deep fryer is dead and I have a jones for some french fries and a burger for lunch. Persnickety fate, why do you frown upon me?

Terrorism in America

I did not really get a chance to fully review Don Brockette's debut novel, America Falling earlier. Let me begin by saying I am really pissed at Mr. Brockette. His book kept me up late. It was so good I could not put it down.

This book describes the threat of Islamic Terrorists we all know is out there. This is the world the average American citizen fears and expects. The Government may try to tell us we are fighting the WOT, but any thinking man or woman knows we are involved in a religious war. Don brings this idea home in his novel of terrorist attacks. One average man thwarts an attack, and then it becomes personal. Buy It, read it. The novel is a great page turner, I cannot wait for the sequel. The plot is realistic and terrifying. Every page is a real future look at what the terrorists have in mind for America. Are you prepared?

Making sense of the consumer price index

Back to the grind. Monday, Monday indeed ( I always channel the Mommas and the Poppas on a Monday morning). The weather was beautiful yesterday. Baseball starts in less than a month. The boy and I tossed around a ball for a while yesterday. It above sixty for the first time since, well a long time. I swept out the garage and smoked a cigar while the boy got out his dirtbike and rode around the neighborhood. It took both of us kicking the starter in turns for about 20 minutes to get it going. I was out of starting fluid. Back to winter beginning tonight, with highs in the thirties the balance of the week. Mother Nature you are one evil fickle bitch.

Posting may or may not be slow the next few weeks. I will be busting my hump. I have been tasked with visiting every customer in the next two to three weeks. The message I will be delivering will not be welcome. You can guess the details. Let me say that steel makes up the largest percentage of cost for the products we produce. This is why I get the big bucks. Bad news is a tough sell in a down economy.

Now that we are into March, it is officially my Birthday Month. Time to start thinking about my gifts. Only a few shopping days left! Remember, if you are not actively working to make my life better -- you should be helping someone who is. It is all about the Hoosierboy, people. Go forth and prosper. As my buddy says -- Prosperity Now!

Here is a thought for those of you in Ohio and Texas. Hillary bills herself as the candidate of experience. B. Hussein Obama has actually spent more time as an elected official. Look it up.

Oh, and are these intermittent chest pains natural?

This one was too good for weekend funnies

Tick Tock of the clock

I woke a little after five this morning. I have a pounding headache in the front right forehead. It is probably the onset of a stroke or tumor or something. I am not whining, just sayin'. On workdays, I cannot get awake. On weekends I wake up early. A weird mindset. It is the inner bulldog in me -- I guess I cannot help but be contrary sometimes.

I am tired because I stayed up late finishing Don Brockette's book, America Falling. If you have not read it, you should. The scary part about the book is we can all readily accept the plot could be true. Buy the book and read it.

It is supposed to get into the fifties today. A little warmth would be a welcome sight. It has been a long winter. One more week and my two oldest come home from their various universities for spring break. It will be nice to have the whole family back together again. My daughter is taking summer classes and moving to an off-campus apartment in May. This could be one of the last times the entire family is living under the same roof. She will visit and still officially live here, but it will not be the same. Taking her clothes and all to school is one thing, actually moving her furniture and bed and stuff will be really hard. The wife had a hard time sending the kids off to college, this, I think, will be much harder.

I just read of this post so far. Holy shit, when you are a hunt and peck typist, you should really not attempt writing in the dark. You know what? That is pretty profound. It may be the metaphor for my life so far. I think I will stop there.

A life lesson

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, 'What is Politics?'
Dad says, 'Well son, let me try to explain it this way:
I am the head of the family, so call me The President.
Your mother is the administrator of the money, so we call her the
Government.
We are here to take care of your needs, so we will call you the
People.
The nanny, we will consider her the Working Class.
And your baby brother, we will call him the Future.
Now think about that and see if it makes sense.'
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up
to check on him.
He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper.
So the little boy goes to his parent's room and finds his mother
asleep.
Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny.
He gives up and goes back to bed.
The next morning, the little boy says to his father, 'Dad, I think I
understand the concept of politics now.'
The father says, 'Good, son, tell me in your own words what you
think politics is all about.'
The little boy replies, 'The President is screwing the Working Class
while the Government is sound asleep. The People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit.
NOW THAT'S POLITICS

Patriots Suck

Humor has no season.

Happy March Fools Day. It looks as if we will have fine, seasonable weather today. I tried to find John Belushi's SNL March comes in like a lion" piece on youtube, but no success. Those of you that remember it will have to just play it in your head.

Go forth and have a good day.

EDIT OK, here is the scrip:

Chevy Chase: Last week we made the comment that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. Now here to reply is our chief meteorologist, John Belushi, with a seasonal report.

John Belushi: Thank you Chevy. Well, another winter is almost over and March true to form has come in like a lion, and hopefully will go out like a lamb. At least that’s how March works here in the United States.

But did you know that March behaves differently in other countries? In Norway, for example, March comes in like a polar bear and goes out like a walrus. Or, take the case of Honduras where March comes in like a lamb and goes out like a salt marsh harvest mouse.

Let’s compare this to the Maldive Islands where March comes in like a wildebeest and goes out like an ant. A tiny, little ant about this big.

[holds thumb and index fingers a small distance apart]

Unlike the Malay Peninsula where March comes in like a worm-eating fernbird and goes out like a worm-eating fernbird. In fact, their whole year is like a worm-eating fernbird.

Or consider the Republic of South Africa where March comes in like a lion and goes out like a different lion. Like one has a mane, and one doesn’t have a mane. Or in certain parts of South America where March swims in like a sea otter, and then it slithers out like a giant anaconda.

There you can buy land real cheap, you know. And there’s a country where March hops in like a kangaroo, and stays a kangaroo for a while, and then it becomes a slightly smaller kangaroo. Then, then, then for a couple of days it’s sort of a cross between a, a frilled lizard and a common house cat.

[Chevy Chase tries to interrupt him]

Wait wait wait wait. Then it changes back into a smaller kangaroo, and then it goes out like a, like a wild dingo. Now, now, and it’s not Australia! Now, now, you’d think it would be Australia, but it’s not!

[Chevy Chase tries to interrupt him]

Now look, pal! I know a country where March comes in like an emu and goes out like a tapir. And they don’t even know what it means! All right? Now listen, there are nine different countries, where March comes in like a frog, and goes out like a golden retriever. But that- that’s not the weird part! No, no, the weird part is, is the frog. The frog- The weird part is-

[has seizure and falls off chair]