A[nother] Day that Shall Live in Infamy

If I have done my math correctly, I was married 26 years ago today. Like most married couples, I spend my time alternately loving her and plotting her demise. Should you be called to testify, that was a joke. Honest.

Seriously, I thank God every day for my wife. She puts up with a lot of crap from me. You know how I behave here, How would you like to deal with that all day every day? Chew on that for a mere three seconds and you will realize my wife is a damn saint. I married up, believe me.

Here is a rerun of a post I published back on June 30, 2007. I called it Lucky Man:

The shoes hurt my feet. I was a bit aggravated. I had to tell one of my buddies he should not be drinking beer in church. He did not see the problem. I told him the Catholics may not mind, but the Methodists had issues with alcohol in the church. I was half irritated because I wanted one of those beers myself.

I had been in an argument with some other people who wanted to mess with my car. Permanent marker does not come off of windows.

The whole thing was becoming a real pain. I cut myself shaving. The photographer annoyed the shit out of me with the stupid poses. Everyone wanted to talk to me tell me this or that, tell me a story or anecdote from their own experience.

I was pissed because I was standing there waiting. I have little patience now. I had less then. Otter was there. So were some other buddies. Finally the ladies came through the doors, things were finally moving.

I could not help smiling when she came through the door at last. She was beautiful: freckles and all. Her hair, her dress, all looked great. My irritation vanished as the organ switched tunes and the audience stood. Even though this all happened twenty-three years ago, I remember many of the details. The minister seemed to drone about the Galatians or some such. We dated six years before we got married, I guess I do have patience when it comes to certain details. At last the deed was done. We were off to the reception and then the best part -- the honeymoon!

Here I sit, twenty-three years later and I remain married. I am short tempered, I find myself incredibly amusing. My hair is graying and maybe even thinning a bit on top, but I really do not care to investigate. Bifocals are on my nose, my gut has grown. I fart a lot. She sports some gray when she does not keep her hair dyed. Her vision is getting bad too. She cannot decide if she needs longer or shorter arms to read a menu. She thinks she is fat. She complains about getting old. I still think she is beautiful and sexy. Some days I look at her and I am filled with desire. I thank God for her every day -- even those when she pisses me off. I suspect I anger her far more than she does me.

I wanted to post a picture from that day, but my scanner is again on the fritz. Trust me, she was the most beautiful woman in the world standing there in the Methodist Church -- June 30, 1984. I am a lucky man.

The potholes in memory lane

I think it was my second full day, maybe the third. There I was in a small mid-western liberal arts college. In those days ninety percent of the students lived in fraternities. The first days were rush and you moved in a few days before school started. I had already pledged over the summer, so I moved right in. Pledges were assigned rooms on the second floor. They were small rooms just big enough for two desks. We pledges were to sleep in a cold dorm across the hall. Next year we would be in the 4 man suites.

I was sitting in my room alone, wondering what the hell I was in to. Here I was living in a house with 70 guys. I did not know anyone well, just a passing acquaintance with a couple of older guys from my hometown. From one of the freshmen rooms next door I heard some familiar music -- Close to the Edge. Drawn like a magnet I went next door. I struck up a conversation. Bud and I hit it off right away. We both loved the same music. That was enough for a couple of 18 year olds thrown together.

I think it was that afternoon. Bud came over and asked me if I was cool. I went with him downstairs to one of the upperclassman's suites. One room held four desks, the middle two sets of bunk beds and the other room was fixed up like a living room. Five or six guys were in the room. The windows were open to the warm August sun.

Someone dropped the needle on Donovan's Mellow Yellow. Soon a bong was fired up. Woo, White, Hokey, Sean and others proceeded to make me welcome to my new home. From somewhere beer appeared. A mellow afternoon party moved into full swing. People came and went. I got to know some of my new brothers. I learned I was in the chucklehead suite, another name for the stoner's room. I remember the guys sitting around with pillows on their heads. We laughed at the joke they needed the pillows to protect their skulls from bumping on the ceiling, they were so high.

The second semester rolled around and we could choose our own roommates. For the next 3-1/2 years Bud and I roomed together. He was in my wedding, I in his. We still keep in contact, more than 30 years since that day he cranked up Yes on his stereo.

I was never a regular with the chuckleheads. I preferred to get my highs through beer. I enjoyed a cigar far more than a doobie. But I knew the door was always open. I am forever indebted to those guys for making me feel welcome. I tried to invite some incoming freshmen to my room as I became one of the 'old guys', sharing a few beers and conversation in an attempt to make the new guys feel a little less alone in a strange place.

Wish you were here

Last night was almost Chamber of Commerce perfect. The temperatures were finally in the mid-seventies and the humidity dropped below 90. It was a most pleasant evening. The wife was in wedding planning mode and to be honest I am just tired of the whole thing. Two more weeks.

I moseyed out to the deck and lit up a nice H. Upmann Chairman's Reserve Robusto. I tuned my iPhone to the Cubs game and spent a nice hour puffing away. I came back in around 9:45 as it started to get dark and the mosquitoes began to hum around my ears. For some reason they like to fly around my head, but they rarely bite me. I assume I am as sour to mosquitoes as I am to most humans with whom I come into contact.

Here is a photo I took between innings. This is the view of the sky to the north from my deck. Too bad you couldn't join me.

Wake me up before you go-go

An old buddy stopped by last night -- insomnia. I have been up since 4:00am. Now that it is time to start the work day, I am ready for a nap.

Today's earworm

Hard to find better guitar work anywhere. This tune really hit home as I was driving last week. I cranked the stereo and it got me through 100 more miles. This tune was written by Peter Green of Fleetwood Mac before he went bonkers.

Since I am a nice guy, here is the original:


I bet some of you did not even know Santana's version was a cover.

No tears over this Byrd's death

Robert Byrd is dead.

Now even more shit in West by God Virginia will be named after him. They might as well just go ahead and change the name of the State altogether.

On the bright side there is one less liberal asshole waiting to vote for the Obama agenda. I think Byrd's aides just raised his old dead hand to vote on health care like some Governmental version of Weekend at Bernie's anyway.

I hope Nat Turner and his boys are waiting on you in Heaven to atone for your KKK days, Senator.

My sympathies to his family. It hurts to lose loved ones.

Tap, Tap, Tap

testing

testing

1 2 3

Is this thing on?

Hello?

Weekend Funny

The end of Don't Ask Don't Tell

***Note: this post was meant to be read aloud*****

Now that Don't Ask, Don't Tell is no longer the policy regarding gays in the military, homosexual men are flocking to enlist. The numbers are reportedly so great that the Pentagon is thinking about changing the motto of the Army/Navy/Air Force/ Marines to "We will never leave our buddies behind.

That joke works best when read aloud. Fill in your least favorite branch of service when repeating this joke. Don't look at me like that, you will repeat it.

Fact of Life #319

If you coach youth sports -- Little League, Pop Warner, Boys Club, etc.-- and you keep track of your "career" wins, you are a dickhead of major proportions.

If you brag about your number of "wins" you are just a total loser and douchebag.

The Hangover, a movie review

******************warning*************spoiler alert*************

If you have not seen the movie The Hangover read no further.




I was sitting in The Cracker Barrel. I was deep in Kentucky. I was eating supper. Near my hotel was the Cracker Barrel and a truck stop. The original KFC was just down the road, if you need to work out a more precise location.

If you have been to a Cracker Barrel you know the tables in the middle of the dining room are placed close together. Sometimes you cannot help overhearing the conversation at the next table, especially if you are alone and not having your own conversation, as was my case. Three older people sat at the adjoining table. A couple, probably in their sixties, and a single woman, also in what looked to be her sixties.

The single woman asked her companions if they have seen the movie The Hangover. They had not. The following is as close to a verbatim rendering of the conversation that followed as I can offer. I went right back to the hotel after eating my catfish and turnip greens and wrote it down so I would make sure and report it correctly.

You have to see the movie The Hangover. I laughed and laughed. It is kind of raunchy, but still funny. These four guys go to Vegas for a bachelor party and it all goes downhill from there. The groom gets locked on the hotel roof and the rest of the movie is about the other three trying to find him. But it ends OK, they make it back in time for the wedding. You have to see it, it is so funny.

If you have seen the movie, you know why that is hilarious. I think that lady should get her own movie review column in the local paper.

Today's movie is Citizen Kane. It is about this rich guy and his sled...

If there were tornado warning sirens for the blog world...

So I had lots of windshield time this week. That is good or bad depending upon your viewpoint. You see, when I am in the car I have nothing to do but listen to the radio and think up stuff I should post. Throw in the mix my company has "summer hours" (Translate very short workday on a Friday).

"So what" you say. The what is that I have many posts swirling in the open sewer that is my brain. Since I was gone most of the week I did not have time to look up Friday Covers or Friday Five material. I know few tears will be shed over that situation. But like last Friday, you can expect several posts today.

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

According to the local fishwrap we have had more than 14 inches of rain dumped on our fair city since the beginning of June. That is precipitation of Johnny Holmes proportions. My side yard is under water. Local rivers are in flood stage and corn is turning brown on the bottom leaves as the standing water in the fields rots the roots of the young plants.

I read a heartbreaking story this morning of a couple (he is a Marine) who bought a house last week. They moved in Friday afternoon. Friday night we had a deluge of rain -- 4 inches. Saturday morning they awoke to find their house surrounded by 18 inches of water and the garage flooded. According to the article, authorities assured the couple this was not unusual. The previous owners made no mention of the flooding problems. The house does not get wet, but the surrounding land is covered by water every time it rains. I am a firm believer in caveat emptor, but that is bullshit. The previous owners knew there was a problem and so did the Realtors involved.

The storms we have seen in the past few weeks are not just the hard rains we see crop up in the summer as the temperature rises and the humidity soars. These are authentic storms -- wind, rain, thunder, lightening, tornado warnings, and floods.

Some might claim that this is just another symptom of global warmingcoolingclimatechange, but I say Mother Nature is a fickle bitch and takes delight in screwing with our best laid plans.

Who wants to drive to Iowa or Tennessee in the sunshine anyway?

Roots

I have been looking into my family tree on and off for the past several years. Luckily others in the various branches have done the legwork and research. Since the Hoosierboy surname is not common, and in fact is a bastardization of the original German, such research is fairly easy. All of us came from a common ancestor who changed his name when he arrived in what became the good old US of A.

The Hoosierboy's of my particular branch have been on this Continent for 10 generations. My ancestors did not come over at Jamestown or on the Mayflower, but they have been Americans for a long time.

Here is to you Johannes. Thanks for getting kicked out of Germany.

The rest of the story

Perhaps you say the news articles from a few months ago detailing Dr.Kevorkian's Death Mobile was for sale (link). You might have wondered why the famous assisted suicide advocate was selling his mobile killing machine.

With apologies to the late Paul Harvey, here is the rest of the story.

Kevorkian sold off his machine because he found a better, more effective means of helping those people die who no longer want to be a part of the mortal world. He gained an added bonus in that he could no longer be tried for killing the willing victims.

What is the Doctor of Death's new suicide machine? Quite simply, he puts his patient into a nice recliner. He turns on the World Cup and lets the the viewer just be bored to death.

If I had a time machine

I dig the show Bewitched. I will admit I have a secret mild crush on Samantha. If the 1960's Elizabeth Montgomery came to the house I have permission from the wife to have a sordid affair. An easy decision since I cannot time-travel to the 1960s and the loverly Ms Montgomery is dead and doing her magic in the afterlife.

I will say this though, I do not get her asshole husbands on that show. Durwood marries a smoking hot witch. He could come home from work and in just a twitch of his wife's cute nose find himself laid back in the recliner with a cold beer in one hand and a bowl of cashews in the other. Dinner of his choice could be ready with a wave of Samantha's hands. He could have roast beef or hot dogs, hamburgers or pork loin. She would not mind. Who wants to slave away at a hot stove all day making beef burgundy or roasted chicken?

Instead, Darrin Stephens is the ultimate male prick. The poster boy for the birth of feminism. His wife will do things his way and only his way. No magic. No twitching of the nose, no help from the black powers. Not from a religious sense of duty, oh, no. Darrin wants things done according to his lights. "Scrub that oven with your hands Missy". "Breakfast better be ready when I come downstairs and I want dinner on the table when I get home". By the way, old Darwood might be bringing home his asshole boss and some sleazy client so Samantha better be prepared to fix dinner for six or eight with little notice -- but no magic, bitch. If Mr. Stephens had his way, he would prevent his wife's relatives from ever stopping or dropping in. He hates their magic and is beyond rude whenever they appear. Yet his own Mother is an overbearing, intervening, snob. He makes her welcome any time.

Good old Darrin hates his wife's magic powers until he gets in a pickle and then he is all for her using them. Every show is the same. Darrin gets himself behind the 8 ball and Sam saves his sorry ass with her magic and awesome good looks. I may have made up that last part.

The first husband -- greasy hair Darrin -- has some real anger issues. He is always gripping about Samantha's mother. He never seems to understand that if you are rude and pisss off a Mother0in-Law you are asking for trouble. Double that if she is a witch. A smarter less domineering asshole would have learned his lesson the first time his MIL zapped him off to an iceberg.

Samantha's second husband, who is mysteriously also named Darrin Stephens is an asshole too. I can only guess she married him only so the monogrammed towels could still be used. If anything he is a bigger jerk than greasy haired Darrin. He is always giving Sam that arched eyebrow glare of disapproval, even when her magic saves his bacon.

I just do not get why some hot chicks are drawn to the wrong kind of man. I have to agree with her family -- she could have done so much better. Perhaps a 1980s or 1990s Hoosierboy. There is no way I frown at that hot magic mama.

Happy Father's Day

Happy day to all you Dad's out there. I hope you get time to kick back, drink a beer or watch your favorite movie today.

Liars and hypocrits

The print media and the dying network news organizations just cannot understand why Americans are no longer reading their papers and watching their broadcasts. For me I don't read the paper as often as I like because apparently the concept of putting a paper in every red plastic receptacle is too difficult for my carrier. But most of us are turning away and tuning out because the reporting has gone from biased to outright playing for one of the teams.

One Republican Senator tap dances a super secret gay code in a restroom stall and it is the lead story for weeks. A Democrat Congressman commits assault and battery on a college kid -- on film -- and it is brushed under the rug. A Republican Representative sends text messages to an 18 year old page saying he wants to hook up (they never did) and he is booted from office. A Democrat Congressman runs a gay brothel in his basement and the result is cricket chirps in the media.

A Republican Congressman is caught taking bribes in California -- out he goes. A Democrat Congressman is caught taking brides and even has the money in his freezer -- why that is just racism.

I, for one, am fed up and sick of it. I have not watched a nightly news broadcast in years. I am glad to see the hacks and party supporters at Newsweek and the NY Times lose their jobs. I have a friend who works at one of the large weekly News Magazines (does anyone know what time it is) and he said he gets unbelievable pressure to frame his articles in a certain way. He sticks to the facts, but the editors often change the wording of his articles to bend the content to fit a certain editorial bias. He is senior enough to get his way, but as he tells me, some fights are not worth having. As we all know a troublemaker does not last long in any corporate environment. News organizations are a business too.

The reporting of news has always been a powerful force for shaping public opinion. Long before Goebbels and Pravda, the machinations of Hearst and Pulitzer dragged us into the Spanish-American War. Hyperbole and yellow journalism on both sides of the issue had a great deal to do with encouraging the Southern States to secede from the Union. The idea that journalist should present a far and unbiased viewpoint is a recent construct. While through much of the 1960s and 1970s the news media made no real effort to provide just the facts, we thought they did (hello Mr. Cronkite you leftist bastard). Only as reporters told us one thing about the Reagan Administration and we saw another did this great fallacy begin to fall apart.

Limbaugh, Drudge and others came along and began to tell the other side of the story. Rush may be as biased in his reporting as the Times, but at least he will admit it. He will tell you what he says is opinion, the WAPO just puts the opinion into the story and pretends it to be fact.

Today the legacy media does not get it. They haven't a clue we are on to them. They keep trying the tactics of attempting to hide their bias as news. The less we believe them, the harder they try, until today the news media is no more reliable than the yellow journalists of yesterday. Let us be honest, how can we expect any different outcome when the media honors the "best" reporters with a prize named after one of the most biased yellow journalist of the time?

Keep along this path media of today. We are on to you. Just try and convince us that taking a large bailout from the Government will make you more independent. Even those of us with a non-Ivy League public school diploma can see through that steaming pile of crapola.

Weekend Funny

All the cool kids are doing it

Summer comes and readership is down. It happens every year. Summer comes and I would rather be outside. Summer comes and politics dies down a little and we get worn out a little. Summer comes and the bloggy thing is even less cool.

Many of the cool kids are moving to new addresses. Dax did it a while ago. Leeann did it. Ellison just moved to a new site and Joan says she is moving soon. I have updated the links, find them over there on the left.

I have another site. I like the title and persona of the author over there better than here. I do not like the wordpress functions. As an old fart, change is not my strong suit. The other site has been up for a while. There is a link on my sidebar. I don't post there much, but I could if I wanted.

These crazy movers will prosper in their new homes. I will visit them as I have in the past.

You can rest assured, at least for today, I am not going anywhere. I will keep posting right here. I was never in with the popular crowd in school, preferring to go my own way. I might have moved a week ago, but now that it is popular, I am staying put. I am quirky that way. If possible, I would have lost my nose decades ago.

games people play

The phone buzzed with a text earlier.

"hey what was his name?"

??? I did not recognize the number. Trying to bring some good Karma my way I texted back:

"You have the wrong number"

The phone buzzed again. "quit bullshitting wit [sic] me its tina"

As I mentioned earlier, I am not in the best of moods.

"Quit texting me. "You have the wrong number bimbo"

buzz.

"u better watch who u saying i has the wrong number cuz u will get yours calling me a bimbo"

With remarkable self-restraint I refrained from any reply. Several pithy, vulgar, and mean rejoinders were racing through my mind, fingers poised above my tiny keyboard.

A few minutes later my phone rang from the same number. I assume it was Tina. She hung up when I answered. I guess she finally understood she had the wrong damn number.

See what I get for trying to help out a fellow human? I should have ignored the first text and let her think her friend was ignoring her.

So if you are reading this -- bite me Tina.

Thursday, the new Monday

I just ate a bacon sandwich with some Cheetos and a piece of Co-Jack cheese on the side. I washed it down with a can of generic Hawaiian Punch.

I have to admit, I have a very, very bad attitude today. Work sucks, life sucks, this blog sucks, our Government sucks,

It is probably best if you don't screw around with me today.

If I was a female you could say I have a case of PMS. I don't feel bloated, just mean and irritable.

Random Ramblings

I once spent 9 hours in a Chevy van with a guy who would only listen to Ray Stevens recordings. He had two cassettes that he alternated. Let me repeat -- NINE HOURS.

I have jumped out of a perfectly good airplane two times. In fact, I took off in an airplane three times before I ever landed in one. My first commercial flight was from Indy to Pittsburgh, on my way to Albany, NY. I guess that was around 1988. Since then, I have flown in excess's of 500 times.

I returned last night from a trip to Detroit. I drove 11 hours to sit in a conference room to watch an online meeting. Think about that for a minute.

I can (and have) started a fire at least three ways without using a match or lighter or even a road flare.

What is with the hairs growing out of and on my ears lately?

I graduated high school in 1980. For the reunion committee -- I have decided I will attend my 80th reunion. Not before. There is no point contacting me until the year 2060. Save yourself the postage.

Why is it that liberal left-wing fruitcakes make the best music?

When it comes to sex

I like to think inside the box...

Impeach Etheridge

Why is Bob Etheridge, Democrat, still a member of the US House of Representatives?

Arrest Etheridge

Why isn't Rep. Bob Etheridge, Democrat, in jail?

Put Etheridge in Jail

Why isn't Rep. Bob Etheridge, Democrat, in jail?

Impeach Etheridge

Why is Bob Etheridge, Democrat, still a member of the US House of Representatives?

Arrest Etheridge

Why isn't Rep. Bob Etheridge, Democrat, in jail?

Impeach Etheridge

Why is Bob Etheridge, Democrat, still a member of the US House of Representatives?

Jail Etheridge

Why isn't Rep. Bob Etheridge, Democrat, in jail?

Impeach Bob Etheridge

Why is Bob Etheridge, Democrat, still a member of the US House of Representatives?

Jail Etheridge

Why isn't Rep. Bob Etheridge, Democrat, in jail?

And another thing

Why is Bob Etheridge, Democrat, still a member of the US House of Representatives?

Tell me why

Why isn't Rep. Bob Etheridge, Democrat, in jail?

Deciphering the Liberal Position

As I understand things, BP is a greedy corporation displaying the worst of the capitalist system. Their only concern is profit, profit and more profit. The result is careless and shoddy work that resulted in the worst oil spill in the US.

BP is not trying to stop the oil spill even though it is costing the company millions of dollars every hour the oil flows. The cleanup costs could be staggering and the US Government led lawsuits will likely bankrupt the company. The Obama Administration has decreed all deep water drilling should stop, based on fabricated evidence, and BP has been ordered to pay for those unemployed workers too.

Ok, let me try again. We need to stop importing oil now. For national security reasons. We cannot drill for oil on land, in the Dakotas, in Alaska, off shore.

We need lighter, more fuel efficient cars. The only way to make cars lighter is to use less metal and more plastic.

Plastic is made from oil.

Natural gas is a perfect alternate fuel for automobiles. We cannot drill for it either.

I guess we will have to take the bus. Except for the people who live in rural areas and small towns.

Never mind, I can't make sense of the progressive position.

Dear Blog

You are becoming a bit too needy. I cannot continue to check on you multiple times a day. You are always demanding content, comment responses and fresh new ideas.

You are more than five years old now. This crying for attention act is wearing thin. I am attending to you morning, noon and occasionally at night. Sometimes I even look in on you while on work break. You even want me to pay attention to you on weekends and Holidays!

You are going to have to attend to your own needs on occasion. I know, I understand, but as a parent sometimes we have to demonstrate tough love.

You will be OK for a few days.

Weekend Funny

Gary Coleman's final resting place.

His Casket even has his name on it.



I know it is wrong on so many levels.

You laughed anyway.

Someday Iwill wake up and this kind of idiocy will have been a dream

I want ot be an illegal alien.

Bingo, movie night, free postage, hanging plants...

Sounds like a nice vacation spot to me.

The fact these people are CRIMINALS seems to be lost on some Americans.

I do not think I am alone believing this, but if you are not a citizen, you have no Rights under the Constitution. Taxpayers should not be funding your legal challenges, postage and movies.

Weekend Funny

Friday Five

There is that song. It comes on the radio while you are driving to Grandma's, or WalMart, or cruisin' the highways. You hear the first few notes and reach for the dial -- to turn it off.

There are those songs that litter our collective memory and the slightest sounds of the notes send foil-on-fillings cringes up your spine. The songs you loathe so much you would rather pierce your eardrums with icepicks, rusty hangers and screw drivers rather than endure. We are talking songs that make you wish you had spiders or small mice chewing the flesh of your inner ear rather than hear even them one more time.

You know the songs I am talking about. What songs do you hate most? I am not talking The Chicken Dance or The Hokey Pokey, but real songs that actually made the charts for some unknown reason?

I think we can all agree that Muskrat Love is number one, but what do you really hate?

Here are my five in reverse order:

5. Black and White as performed by Three Dog Night
4. Midnight at the Oasis as sung by Maria Muldaur
3. Billy Don't be a Hero by Paper Lace
2. The Joker by Steve Miller
1. Afternoon Delight by the Starland Vocal Band. May the author and composer rot in Hell.

With the exception of Number 1 and Number 2, I could interchange dozens of titles. I am sure some of you will remind me of other abortions of music that I will wish I had added. Some might say we could fill the list with Nickleback. Since I am in charge of this particular Friday Five Feature, I reserve the right to modify my list any darn time I feel like it. Don't push me or I will start posting videos of these songs. None of us wants that.

Play along or puppies will die, the terrorists will win and evil people will cut the whiskers off kittens. Void in Rhode Island. Failure to put your thoughts in the comments can put you on the author's shit list. No purchase necessary to play. Do it for the children. Playing may or may not help cure cancer. By playing along you acknowledge the author is correct in his declaration that Muskrat Love and Afternoon Delight are among the worst songs ever written and performed. Submitted written arguments proving otherwise will be considered. You will be wrong,and I will consider you a dip. Failure to provide a listing of five worthless songs indicates you hate babies and daisies. You would do it if you loved me. I will not tell anyone. Please, you don't understand how it hurts if you don't submit to the Friday Five. Do it for the children.

OK, you forced me:



Do not make me bring out Afternoon Delight.

But it is Federal money...

In my small town no kid goes hungry. For the second or third year in a row any kid under 18 gets a free a sack lunch every weekday all summer long. NO questions asked. Rich or poor. The school prepares the lunches and hands them out at a couple of different sites. These lunches are not bologna or peanut butter. They are ham or hot dogs or chicken. They even publish a menu.

We are laying off teachers, but passing out lunch in the summer time.

Yes, I know the lunches are being provided under a Federal Grant, but it is still taxpayer money, a fact that seems to be lost on many people. Someone is still paying.

Why are we passing out free lunch? One argument is some cannot afford to provide lunch for their kids. I call bullshit. If you cannot afford food, we the taxpayers, are subsidising your food through WIC or the Food Stamp program. There is no excuse for not having food for your kids. With a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread you can provide lunch for a week for two people for about $5. That is about $0.35 per day or around the cost of two cigarettes.

Of course eating peanut butter every day is not fun. But a peanut butter sandwich is nutritious and fills you up. I eat a peanut butter sandwich at least once a week for lunch.

Look, I am not against offering a helping hand. But this is not a poor community. If there was a demonstrable need to provide lunch I might go along. But we as a nation need to learn to say NO. Just because someone wants to give out free Federal money does mean we have to take it. The Government is beyond broke. We are borrowing money that will take generations to pay, if we stopped now. Despite what our local schools system believes, there really is no free lunch.

Who is really in charge?

I have never been a CEO of a company, or a top level manager. I have held low and mid-level management positions. I have supervised departments of three to eighty people. I have supervised salary and hourly workers. I have coached and managed and supervised.

One of the first basics of leadership I learned as far back as patrol leader of the Wolverine Patrol in Boy Scout Troop 338 was you have to give those around you clear objectives and the means to complete those tasks. Emotion plays no part in leadership. Like or dislike, political or moral differences have no role in performing the task, the work, the hike, life, or any other objective

There are books and seminars and classes to teach someone to manage and lead. The military has perfected the technics.

My leadership philosophy can be summed up neatly: We made a mistake -- you did a great job. Simply, when working for me, the task was not completed, the work was not done, it was because I failed to give you the direction, support, information, skills, or tools to complete the assignment. I failed you in leadership and management because I allowed you to fail. If the task was completed, then you did it.

This attitude has never failed me.

Politics aside. the President concerns me. It is becoming increasingly clear he lacks the leadership and managerial skill set to be President. He is not the first to be elected based on charm, or reputation, not on his leadership abilities. It may be acceptable, or even admirable as a community organiser to proclaim you are going down to City Hall to "kick some ass". That approach rarely works in a corporate environment. It may be effective organizing to appologize for actions you cannot control, but in the real world it only makes your adversaries and co-workers think you are weak.

I am not saying you have to be a self-righteous asshole, but finger-pointing and blamestorming are not effective leadership technics. We have all worked for that guy. Did you respect him? Was he a good boss/supervisor/leader? Say what you like about Pallin or McCain, again leaving politics aside, at least they have demonstrated leadership abilities. Running for election is in no way the same as running and air wing or a city or a State. On that there can be no argument.

President Obama to date has shown very little leadership. He cannot govern his emotions. He jumped the gun in the Harvard case, he has been "angry" at not only the Israelis but the officials at BP. He has stated he is in charge, but now wants to kick some ass. Part of the issue in the Gulf are that the problem is beyond fixing in a few days. The next problem is the very burden of the Federal Buaracracy. This stymied the efforts to recover from Katrina, and is an issue now.

Some in a position of power will accept responsibility. Other people want to point fingers and get all angry, like a four year old who does not get his way.

Which, I ask, is a real leader?

As a brief postscript, For those of you who would argue the point. Would your opinion of the President change if I told you, more than 50 days into the oil spill that President Obama has yet to have ameeting with the CEO of BP?

Dear Eggo Obama

Once again I am confused. You have assured us you are in charge, that YOUR administration has been on the scene directing things since around day two.

Now this

If your man is in charge, there is no question which ass you should kick. If things are not being done as your experts maintain, why not? You are in charge -- you told us so about a week ago.

The fact you have never managed anything but a campaign is becoming ever clearer to us all.

Extra, Extra get it while its hot

The wife, the youngest boy and your humble author. I leave it up to you to decide who is who.

Am I a stupid fat fuck or what?

A centipede walked right past my big toe while I was taking a crap last night

I usually consider myself historically aware. I completely blew the anniversary of D-Day Sunday. That is the first time I have failed to mark the occasion since I started this piece o'crap. I had every intention of correcting that failure early yesterday, only Blogger was down. Excuses, excuses. I am not sure when it came back up, but by that time, I was on the road making my living. When I got home we loaded up and went to dinner to celebrate a day early the Wife's birthday. Everyone came, kids, fiancees girlfriends. We had a good time, nary an argument among the kids.

The oldest boy is set to head off on tour this week. He is excited. I am concerned his already weak voice will not hold up through ten straight days of performing. He is too. We are trying to decide where would be best to go see him. The closest venues are out of the question since I have to be at a sales meeting. If anyone knows anything about a place called Pats in the Flats in beautiful Cleveland, shoot me an email.

Mucho Thanko for all of you fine birthday ideas. I had about decided Sunday to check into spa packages (great minds, eh wot?) when the wife announced she would like a new watch for her birthday. Done and done. So a new timepiece sits in my desk awaiting presentation later this evening. Again, thanks a heap for your kindly advise, blog Brothers and Sisters.

Insert pithy title here

I am a little ashamed of myself. I accomplished absolutely nothing yesterday. I parked my ass and was a lazy. lazy grasshopper. Well, I guess I did make a spinach dip in a bread bowl, but to be honest, that took like seven minutes. The wife said everyone at the bridal shower ate it like it was ambrosia (not her words).

It rained on and off yesterday, and looked like rain all day, so I have a slim excuse for not mowing the yard or working on the weed beds. I could have dusted or cleaned, but I just did not feel like it. I guess I did do a load of towels! I even folded them and put them away, so the day was not a total bust.

Mostly I just watched TV: saved biographies from the BIO channel...Movies...Cooking shows. When the wife got home we went to see the new movie Killers. It was funny and entertaining fare. It will not win any Academy Awards (insert copyright), but was a nice diversion on a Saturday evening. When I got home I watched another movie on the boob tube. It was a completely wasted day.

I had a great time.

I notice I am cleaning my glasses a lot lately on my shirt tail. This really hit home when I was washing the cars last Saturday. Some people I know stopped by and I was standing on the curb talking to them in their truck. I reached up to clean my glasses and realized I was not wearing them. I guess I need to face reality that the blurriness I see with or without the glasses is not a case of greasy lenses, but poor vision.

I have had these glasses since late 2004 or early 2005. I know I had them before I started this piss-poor excuse for a blog. I know my current glasses need updated. Not only are they out of style, I need a stronger prescription and they are too wide for my face. I have dropped nearly 60 pounds in the past few years (I guess now I am smart -- right Dave?) and my face is now thinner too. If you have ever had to purchase bi-focals you know how expensive they can be. After the wedding next month I hope to see the eye quack.

How about doing this old blogger a solid? The wife has a birthday Tuesday. I will not say her age, but I will confirm she won't be fifty yet. You cannot be much closer, though. I have no idea what to get her. She has offered no ideas. She is not a fan of jewelry. Experience tells me I should not choose clothing. Since I do the cooking any kitchen ware would be for me. I am really truly stumped. The kids and I am taking her to dinner already. I will remember to get a card. I don't know, maybe she will get some flowers.

Have a great Sunday.

Shotgunning my thoughts

F-ing Cubs. Look, I know Lou Pinnella forgets more about baseball each night when he sleeps than I have ever learned. But can someone explain why we have a guy batting .161 hitting cleanup? Ramirez has not hit all year. This is not a slump. If you have to play him, at least put him where he cannot hurt you.

I had the misfortune to have to go to WalMart last night. I could tell the weather is getting warm. Let me be clear. Some of you people smell. You stink. You smell bad. take a shower. Since it was a Friday night some of you may get to that today, but hitting the tub after work may not be a bad idea for you the sake of your fellow citizens.

Speaking of showers, the wife is off to another Bridal Shower for my daughter today. I have to make a spinach dip in a bread bowl this morning in anticipation.Later, if the rain holds off, I may use the Roundup method of weed control in the big flower beds out front. I have to get that jungle tamed, even if it means sacrificing some lollies and daisies and other good plants.

RIP John Wooden. You were a great Hoosier, coach and man. You did it the "right" way.

This clip needs no comment:


h/t GOC

Have a great weekend.

Ramblin' Man

I got back late last night from another plane trip. That is three in three weeks. I feel like I am back at the old job, travelling four nights a week and flying some 100+ plane trips a year. Yep, you do the math.

I saw the usual assholes that seem to congregate in plane terminals these days. There was that one guy. You know him, mid-thirties, little dick/big watch type. He had on his flippity-flops and a visor. Of course, he had his shades propped up on the visor, you never know when the light will become uncommonly bright in the Charlotte-Douglass airport. Be, be , be prepared I always say. This guy was talking in that "I am really important voice" on his cellphone. He wanted everyone to know that even though he was dressed casual (visor and all) he was still on top of business.

In case we did not notice him, he walked up in down the terminal in front of the gates. He was mindlessly wandering up and down the walkway, stopping at random to to turn around, weaving slowly right and left. He was oblivious that other people might actually be trying to get to their flights or to baggage claim or just home. This dirtbag did not care that he stepped in front of golf carts, that he cut off old people. He walked right in front of strollers and travelers of all stripes. He was important, he was on the cell phone, he was probably named Joshua or David. Visor Guy did his "look at me" dance for about 15 minutes before deciding others in the airport needed to see how important he was. You will likely see him if you go to the mall this weekend. Kick him in the nuts for me...

An elderly guy sat next to me. He seemed flustered. He said he was coming in from Paris and his flight had been delayed. He asked me if he could borrow my cell phone to call his wife so she would not be worried when he did not arrive in Kansas City on time. I said sure. I showed him how to dial and call on my iPhone. He tried a few times and I could see he was flustered. I asked if I could help him. He said pleases, he was so tired he could not think. I placed the call for him. He sat in his seat, feeling no need to parade up and down the hallway while making his call. A while later he thanked me and moved on to his gate. I was worried about that Gentleman, he looked exhausted. I hope he got home OK.

I arrived at the old homestead around 11:00 PM. I was a little tired myself.

President Eggo Obama

Remember how the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz was confused about how to get to the Emerald City and pointed first one direction, then the next and finally pointed in two directions at once? That is how The Obama is starting to look. He said emphatically that the Feds were in charge of the BP oil spill. He assured us that the Government was calling the shots, that BP could not take a dump without his OK. I may have paraphrased that last part.

Now, The Governor of Louisiana is trying to do something to prevent disaster. The last Governor of Louisiana sat around and did nothing before Katrina, This guy wants to be proactive. He wants to build some sand barriers to protect the marshlands.

Now he is getting the runaround, BP says the Feds have to OK it, The Feds say BP has to OK it, the EPA says it might do harm to the environment. Those clueless bastards. Sand cannot possibly do more harm than f-ing OIL. Wait, the EPA are the same knuckleheads that claim our own breath should be regulated.

Just build the damn sand barriers. Someone, anyone, take charge. Bush may have been a lousy President but at least he could take a decision. Come on President Eggo Obama, do something. There is a pattern here. The Waffler in Chief took months to decide if he should follow his military leader's recommendation to send more troops to Afghanistan. It took months to decide what type dog to choose. Clearly decisions are tough for the old Eggo in charge.

One last word to the idiots that dressed up like plants and protested at a BP station in New York -- get a life. We are all concerned, but this kind of nonsense just makes you look stupid. That station owner has nothing to do with BP, he just sells their gas. He likely is not making much from fuel sales anyway. This is the equivalent of dressing up in a fish suit and protesting at Kroger because you oppose tuna fishing. Take a bath, get a job and stop being stupid hippy fucks.

Today's earworm

Classic

Why would they lie?

So let me get this straight. The White House asked President Clinton to go to Joe Stestack and try to get him to not challenge Arlan Specter for the Democrat Senate seat in Pennsylvania. They offered a non paying job on one of The Obama's advisory boards. A job he could not accept if he kept his seat in the House of Representatives?

The Obama Administration sent one of the most powerful men in the Democrat party to offer Sestack the political equivalent of a chicken bone if he would not eat the steak? What was the Administration holding back to sweeten the pot, a positions as Assistant Scoutmaster for Troop 336, maybe Honorary Fundraising Chairman of the United Way of Washington County, manager of a Little League team?

Does anyone, of any political persuasion, believe this stupid story? The Obama Regime had three months and this pathetic fairy tale is the best they could think up? This makes the Watergate burglars look like friggin' geniuses.

Hope and change and transparency, indeed

Like you really care

Happy Tuesday. I hope you had a great long weekend and found a few minutes to thank those who have given their lives so we can live in the greatest country on Earth.

I got the yard mowed yesterday. The boy helped. He complained "Didn't we just do this last weekend"? I pointed out that it has to be done at least every week during the summer.

I decided to Bar-B-Q some chicken on the grill along with some grill potatoes. You spay some foil with PAM, chop a nice Vidalia onion. Cube a big chunk of cheddar or Colby Cheese and slice up a bunch of potatoes thin. Wrap the whole shebang in foil and cook on the grill for 45 minutes to an hour. Turn every so often. I had the spuds on the grill for about 1/2 hour and went out to turn them. Just as I open the grill the flames sputtered and went out. Damn it, I knew I was about out of gas. I put the spuds in the oven and grabbed the tank. I got it filled quickly, but supper was delayed and the timing was off. Anyhow, we had a great meal of chicken, potatoes and corn on the cob. The corn was not too bad for early spring Florida corn.

Just as we sat down the rains came in sheets. I got soaked just turning off the grill.

The oldest boy has finalized his tour schedule. He will be the opening act with a band from St. Louis hitting some bars and clubs in the Midwest. He will be gone about ten days. Playing music is how he wants to make a living and this will show him a glimpse of life on the road. My fear is that he will like it. He is already rumbling about quitting college to pursue music full time. I have tried to convince him that he needs a back-up plan and finishing college is essential. So far we are at a mild impasse. I think he knows I am right, but he really does not like school at all. Correction -- he likes being AT college, just not the studies and classes that go along.

Here is his schedule:

Muncie, IN, Ft Wayne, Detroit, Cleveland, Columbus, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Louisville, St. Louis. I do not have the exact dates or venues, but If you are interested shoot me an email. His musicianship and songwriting skills have improved dramatically.

Here is a link where you can get some of the tour schedule and hear some of his music. Let me know what you think -- even if you hate it. Me, I really think the tune Large Oceans is kind of catchy.

Don't tell him I sent you...