Happy Halloween

All we need is some Donovan in the background

I am in one of those moods today. As I stood in the kitchen I sipped my coffee.  I looked out the window on the door to the deck. The eastern sky was painted in shades of lemon and orange as the rising sun crouched below the horizon. Above, shades of blue deepened as I looked further heavenward. I thought it would be nice to sit on the deck and drink my morning brew. The thermometer on the old iPhone told me it was a brisk 29 F out there.  I decided to drink my morning coffee at my desk.

Mom did not raise two idiots.  (haha take that Otter).

A rip in the fabric of the space/time continuum.

The old iPod is on shuffle and Bob Marley is playing quietly in the background over the speakers. My coffee is hot and steamy in my Chicago Cubs mug. I drink it black. I deviated from the norm and ate an apple danish with a cup of milk for breakfast instead of oatmeal or cereal. My blood sugar tested good this morning.  That has not been true most morning for the past few weeks.

The air outside is crisp and cool, a mere 37 F. The sky is cloudy. To the best of my knowledge there are no antelopes playing in the yard. The music has switched to Stranglehold.

We do not have much on tap for today.  I think we might meet up with some friends to play some Euchre. Maybe I will drink a beer. Perhaps not. If the day warms up a bit, my buddy and i might herf a cigar. Maybe not. I like it when my life is uncomplicated.

I have been called for jury duty Monday.  I have to check in Sunday evening to see if the litigants have reached a settlement. I have been to this rodeo before. I have been part of the jury pool at least a dozen times.  I have had to go sit to be chosen a couple of times. I served on a petit jury in a drug case. The dude was growing pot in his garage.  Lots of pot. I also served on a Federal Grand Jury. for 18 months. We met three to four days at a time, every other week. Although after the first six months it slowed to about three days a month. My employer was not pleased. Grand Juries are a strange thing.  You only decide if there is enough evidence to charge the person with a crime.  Often the accused does not get to testify.  There are no defense witnesses.  A judge can compel a witness to testify.  hearsay is allowed. The State presents its case and you decide.  It does not have to be unanimous. We heard dozens of cases and needless to say, with the deck stacked the decisions were easy.

We all have to do our part. I feel I have served my time. But I will do what I have to do. Passing judgement on another human is harder than you think, even when they are clearly guilty. It is a heavy burden to send a man to prison.  Sometimes, like this morning, I still see the pictures of those pot plants growing in the garage next to a pink bike with training wheels, tassels in the handlebars.  A plastic Big Wheel sat nearby.  Oh, I know the old adage,  "if you can't do the time, don't do the crime".  Still, I sometimes wonder what became of those two kids with their daddy in prison.

Sinatra is crooning now, I guess he is bringing out my soft side.

I have put myself into a somber mood. My coffee cup needs refilled. Have a great Saturday.

A blog full of Spammy goodness

I love Spam -- the ham-like meat product, not the internet kind. The former I just might fry up for lunch today. Lots of the latter arrived in my comments yesterday. The food Spam comes in convenient cans.  The comment spam came by the bucket loads.  Seriously, yesterday brought a veritable flood of comment spam to my site. Luckily, the filter caught it, and it was a mere click or two to make it go away, but WTH? It was not all attracted by one single post, but a blanket covering recent entries and those from the murky distant past.

Usually I get three or four comment spams in a 24 hour period.  Yesterday saw ten times the number show up in my comment spam filter.

What good can it do to drop spam comments on a post four or five years old, that gets no traffic? Will some of you interwebz experts enlighten me?  I really do not understand the marketing concept. I see the potential of dumping an internet advertisement on a post others might read.  I think the return at this old blog is pretty low, advertising-wise. I understand it is quantity versus quality. If you can get your ad to six people, so be it. Putting your ad (or spam, if you will) on a blog that gets maybe 80 hits on a good day, on a post five years old is the equivalent of investing in a billboard on a untraveled gravel road in the hinterlands of Sheridan County, Nebraska.

Call me perplexed. Call me confused. Call me for lunch -- if you are having Spam.

Peeking in through a slit in the curtains at my exciting life

I went through the drive-thru at McDonald's for lunch today. I rarely eat out for lunch when I am not travelling. I had a Big Mac.

I ate all of the french fries before I got home.

Mumbling rants directred at the stray marmots in the neighborhood

I spent some time this morning writing a post. This is not it.

After proof reading and fixing the typos and correcting the spelling, I realized the damn thing had no point and made no sense.

I had my usual two cups of coffee, so it was not that. I guess I have some sort of interwebz Turret's this morning. How can it be possible to spend 15 minutes writing a hundred words of complete incomprehensible garbage?

The beginning and end were good though. There is that. I think I will blame my inability to form a coherent thought on complete despondency over a certain frog princess closing up her blog. Yeah, that is the answer.

Yesterday was seasonably warm, albeit a tad windy.  I considered spending my lunch hour burning a quality hand-rolled stogie. Instead I took the opportunity to walk and exercise. Now today is cold and rainy. I suppose I will give myself a couple of credit points for doing the right thing.

Gotta go, the work phone is ringing...

Karma Chamelion

I believe I  have been suitably chastised for my bitching and complaining in yesterday's post.  Perhaps with good reason. Whining about the old blog is reason enough to strap on a maxi pad.


Anyway...

Let me tell you about my Monday. I swear on a stack of whatever religious tomes you choose the following is true.

My cable/internet was out much of Sunday night. I was not able to print out my boarding pass for my Monday airplane trip until early Monday morning. Imagine my surprise to discover I was upgraded to First Class.

I have traveled First Class and Business Class a bunch in my career.  Back when I was flying 125 plus trips a year I had top tier status and was automatically put in First Class every time I bought a ticket.  These days I am a lowly Silver Status guy and just get to board slightly before the couple heading to Cancun for their honeymoon.

I arrived at the rental car place and my name was not on the preassigned tote board directing to my car. Crap. I went to the counter and after a short wait was sent to slot number 99. There, was an upgraded car -- full size, leather, sunroof -- the works.  All for the price of my reserved midsize!

I arrived at my hotel.  The Hilton Garden I usually stay is nice and I anticipated no issues checking in.  Get this, when I checked in the Desk Clerk told me I had been upgraded to the President's Suite.  No shit!

I do not know what Karmic forces were swirling about my person Monday, but it was nice to have everything go right for once. Now I am sitting here waiting on the other shoe to drop. No good deed goes unpunished and the Karma backlash is coming.

It is that time of the month

It seems to occur with alarming frequency these days. I think it is my personal blogging menstrual period; the four five days each month were I am bored by this piece o'crap blog. The old ennui sets in and nothing springs forth from mind to virtual paper.

In those days I look at the damn blinking cursor and seriously consider shutting down the whole enterprise.

This is one of those days.

Thank goodness my cable was out for the whole first half

I have seen some god-awful football teams in my day. Last night was the worst effort by any team in my life.  The Colts could not have beaten a mid-major college football team with their effort last night.

At the half, the coach said the players were not executing, could not do the "little things" right.  I say the coaches did not prepare the team. Despite being down 34-7 at half, the coaches made no adjustments, they stuck to the anemic offense and inept defense that has kept them winless this season.

If the Team does not ax the Defensive Coordinator TODAY, then it is clear they are not serious. The players have about 20 combined Pro Bowl appearances among them, these guys know how to do the little things.

Changes have to be made, if only for changes' sake.

I probably shouldn't write this post

Those of you who do not have the good fortune to reside in the great state of Indiana may not be aware the entire state is NOT farms and flatland.  There are things to do here that do not involve a giant oval raceway and fast cars. The southern third of the state is hilly and often covered in forest.  In fact, the terrain is very similar to what you would find in much of Kentucky. One of the centers of the tourist area in these hills is Brown County.  There is a large State Park there and the community of Nashville is known for its arts and craft boutiques. I think it is safe to opine that the place attracts middle aged women like ants to a picnic.Especially in the fall.

So yesterday I found myself wandering around the streets and alleyways of Nashville with my wife. I did not really mind.  It was pleasant sweatshirt weather and the sky was a brilliant Prussian Blue for those of you who were fortunate to have the giant 64 count box of Crayolas as a kid. As the wife perused the various shops and stores I stood or sat if a place was available.  I watched the people. Apparently boots are the fashion this year.  I saw boots of all kinds. Short ones, high ones, leather and fur, some with heels others flat like moccasins. A significant portion of the female sex sported boots of some kind -- both the young in age and young at heart.

Ladies, here is some advice from the other side of the aisle. If you stand before a mirror and notice the mound of your boobs swells somewhere south of the bottom of your ribcage you probably definitely need to invest in a good brassiere. Purple hair is not natural. If you have traveled the Earth for anywhere close to a half of a century, it does not matter how tight your jeans are, how firm your breasties, how much you work out, how high you wear your heels, dressing like an 18 year old makes you look silly and you are not fooling anyone.

I am not the most handsome guy to enter the room -- ever. I doubt another human has  had a wet moaning fantasy about me, including my wife. In days past I toted a spare tire about my middle. I have faults, OK?

That said, I saw this woman she had short blond hair. I imagine her dark roots were courtesy a trained cosmetologist. She had new white running shoes branded Nike. Her jogging suit matched the trim on the shoes. The only problem was her rear end resembled a pair of bowling balls coming up the return chute at the same time. I thought a pair of raccoons were wrestling under that navy blue nylon every time she took a step. Her girth strained the zipper of the jacket which she could only zip a few inches. Further zipped  and I am confident her upper body would rip the strained fabric like an angry Incredible Hulk. If you are going to wear exercise clothes you should look like you saw a gym in the past few years. I don't care what someone weighs, it is none of my business. But even my practically non-existent fashion sense was offended by this female's attire.

As we were driving home the wife and I were discussing the various things we saw. She described a lamp she liked, I talked about various people I observed. I mentioned one guy walking by talking on his phone. "...every store is the same. I go in and it is crafts. The next one is the same crafts.  I don't get it..."

I said to my wife, I saw this one blond lady..."

She interrupted to say "The one in the track suit?"

I guess sometimes we do have some things in common after all.


PS -- If any of the people I described above was you.  Sorry, but someone had to tell you.

Gurgle phlaaat splash moan

I have been up since about four in the ay-em crapping my brains out.  I know what you are thinking. Given the material, it should not take that long.  Hardy har har.

Have you ever been making rock candy and burnt the sugar? Do you know that smell?  Now imagine you are burring that sugar syrup and add in some garlic. Toss in a healthy dose of burnt rubber and Naphtha gas. Now imagine those odors all mixed together. My butt explosions smelled like that, only if you added ingredient 'X' that magically intensified the worst of the smells tenfold. Ponder that for a moment and then picture yourself in the hall bathroom with me,  my stomach gurgling, bowls rumbling, and my anus spewing repeated explosions of gas and semi-solid fecal matter. My fetid butt gravy is not so funny now, is it Laughing Boy?

Between trips to the can I watched some infomercial selling knives. The pitchmen were horrible, the production values worse.  It was like a bunch of swap meet neighbors got together and filmed the deal in their garage. Yet somehow I found myself tempted to pick up the phone and order some. How does that happen?  I have never ordered anything off the TV. I did not this morning, but it was close.  I guess I really did nearly crap my brains out.

There is a heavy coating of frost on the pumpkin this morning -- the grass and windows of the car too. I moved the wife's giant potted mums up to the porch last night, I hope that was enough protection as the nighttime temperatures dropped to freezing. The leaves on the oaks and maples will really start to turn and fall now.

We have no plans for the day.  At least none the Boss has sen fit to share. I suspect a long nap in the recliner is in order. I suspect just reading about this puts you on the edge of your seat in excitement.  Just one more entry in a long list of reasons you wish you were me.

A Musical Interlude

It is Friday, I need some music to soothe my soul. Here are The Outlaws, inspired by my internet pal Yabu::



And how about an encore:



Take the rest of the day off. Start the weekend early. 

Gadhafi cracked corn and I don't care

 I do not care if Gadhafi is dead either..

The evil Mohamar is sleeping with the fishes. Or the deserty equivalent of sleeping with the fishes.

So what?

America is no more dangerous or safer than it was before Gadhafi assumed room temperature. Gadhafi quit being a thorn in our side after Reagan bombed him.  Gadhafi became an old junk yard dog, growling in the corner after we kicked his buddy Saddam's ass. Even a dictator can read writing on the wall.

So why are we involved in Libya anyway? What is it to us?  Why are we not hearing the Cindy Sheehans and the Democrats in general shrieking and moaning about our little illegal war? If Bush had violated the War Powers Act like The Obama has,  we would already be deep in impeachment hearings, the Evening Anchors purple with apoplexy over the administration. What is the vital American interest at stake?

Anyone?

I fully expect to see protests in Washington, mourning the death of Gadhafi, just as we saw when Hussein reached ambient temperature. I am waiting, breath held in anticipation for the outcry.  I expect Dick the Turban Durban will have a few words to say. I am sure we will see some saggy naked boobies from  the Code Pinkers.

Any minute now...

You cannot say hypocrite without invoking a filthy hippy, so I am not surprised we hear nought but crickets chirping.

Excuse for an Alibi

I should use the voice memo function on my phone. I seem to always come up with brilliant, pithy posts while staring out my windshield. My writing is remarkably mediocre, my typing skills are poor at best, and I am among the most inept texters (is that the word?) ever, so trying to compose while driving is a non-idea. Besides, I will not even talk on my phone without my bluetooth while driving, so really there is no other option. I could pull over, but I would never get from here to there and back if I stopped every time an idea popped into my head.

I-70 has to be the most boring highway in all of the miles of the nation's interstate system.  It travels straight and smooth like a belt around the country's midsection.  It crosses some of the flattest, most fertile farmland in the world. Other than its eastern and western ends, scenic it is not, unless you love the subtle breaks of farms and fields interlaced with the occasional small copse of wood or ravine. I do. Unless you find the hidden beauty in the way the sunlight plays on the clouds dotting the distant horizon, you will not find I-70 endearing or lovable. I fear future singers and poets will never pen stirring odes to old number 70 as they have her curvaceous cousin Route 66.  The I-70 roadway cuts through the cities of the heartland: Pittsburgh, Columbus, Indianapolis, Terre Haute, St Louis, Kansas City, and Denver to come to an inglorious end in the mountains of central Utah. Its path is as straight and unimaginative and as devoid of character as the cities it cuts on its journey westward.  She is a perfect thinking man's highway.

I-70 is the road to dream of your future, to ponder the past, to compose blog posts to your heart's content. Her multi-lanes of concrete and blacktop are the perfect medium to play mental gymnastics with syntax and humor and political truths. Then you arrive home, weary from the day. You hustle to the store, make supper, watch TV and sleep.

This morning I am awake once more. I stare at the keyboard, trying in vain to remember the brilliant words that spun in my mind yesterday as I raced homeward on the back of Interstate number seven-oh. Instead of wondrous stories and biting commentary, I have naught but a flat nothingness in my head reminiscent of I-70 and a very long excuse for lack of content.

This post represents 49 seconds of your life you will never get back, unless you read real slow or real fast. In that case your suckage may vary.

It is hump day. I have plenty to do, not much I want to do. It is just like my dad always said, "You do not have to like it, you just have to do it". OK, I do not remember him ever saying that, but I know he would agree with that sentiment. insert long pause here while I stare at the blinking cursor  I have lost my train of thought, if there ever was one on this post.

The wife and boy are home starting tomorrow for fall break. We thought about taking some hotel points and going somewhere, but the boy has to work. We don't have a lot of extra cash hidden in the mattress anyway.

The weather is in full sucks mode.  Fall has arrived, and I do not mean that crisp air and turning leaves like on your desktop background either.  Not the imaginary football weather from your old college days. I am talking steady drizzle, wind, and chilly air. Yep, THAT fall weather.

I have stalled enough.  I have a conference call this morning and a customer visit this afternoon to prepare for. Have a great day.

Observations of a road warrior

There are many people who spend more time on the roads daily than I do. Most of my trips are distance trips, here to there and sometimes beyond. I spend four, six and sometimes ten hours at the wheel at one time. It may be true my commute is about twenty feet, but often my drive is measured in hundreds of miles. That said, I still put between 50,000 and 75,000 miles on my car in each of the last 16 years. I maintain I know a little about driving the nation's highways.

Whatever politician or engineer or traffic expert decided to create a different speed limit for tractors/ trailers and passenger cars was a fucking moronic idiot who clearly has never spent one minute driving from Indy to Chicago. The long stretches of Interstate where one half of the vehicles are mandated at a slower speed than the other half is a recipe for disaster. If you have ever driven that stretch, you know exactly what I mean. The long stretches of I-65 South of Indy are often just as congested. The same is true of the other Indiana interstate roads as well.

I chalk it up to example 3,379 of governmental stupidity.

I never get tired of preaching to the choir

I will make more money this year than I did last year. Both years are significantly more productive, earnings-wise, than the pay cut year of 2009.

I tell you this not to brag.  My annual income is fairly meager.I tell you this to illustrate a point.

Just because I make more money this year does not mean anyone else made LESS money. The few thousand dollars in bonuses I earned this year for busting my ass and doing a good job in no way diminished the earnings or lowered the lifestyle or prevented one single person from getting a job.

My wages did not have any effect at all on one single person occupying Wall Street or Cleveland, or Washington or Boston, except that I will pay more in total taxes.

Unless you believe wealth is finite, I see no correlation between Bill Gates and his $30 billion, the athlete who earns $30 million and my neighbor who pulls down $30 thousand.  The gap between the richest and poorest of us is getting larger. So what?

In the time of Robin Hood the richest were getting richer on the backs of the poorest, taxing the poor into starvation.  The "occupiers" cannot make that claim today.  The lowest 47% of earners not only pay NO taxes, they sometimes get a "refund" on taxes they did not pay! The millionaires and billionaires so criticized by The Downgrader-in-chief pay nearly 30% of all taxes collected by the IRS, despite being less than1% of the population.

I understand class warfare as a political gimmick. In real-life economics is just does not stand up to scrutiny or reason.

Meet the OWS Crowd

'Nuff said.

Mauled at the Mall

The wife wanted to go to the mall last night.  Since I am a good sport, I agreed. She did her thing, which involves looking at every piece of clothing in every store, then going back to compare. I took a quick turn through the sporting goods stores and found a comfortable place to sit.

It must have been drop-your-teenager-at-the-mall day yesterday. Packs of loud obnoxious youths congregated in every conceivable area of the mall.  Mostly these herds of kids decided to stop and yell across the way wherever the kiosks and construction of the storefronts afforded the narrowest possible opening, forcing old farts like me to squeeze through where we could.

The mall cops on their Segways tried breaking up the roadblocks, but no one can take them seriously in their little mushroom helmets. Honestly, the crowd was Christmas-like. 

I sometimes say words around here and in my house that are not appropriate. I know most of the four letter words that make little old ladies blush. I do know also when and where these words are appropriate. Sitting sideways in one of the stinky mall chairs yelling "Fuck you n---er. I ain't lettin' you use this phone, my bitch is gonna text me" is not what most of us would consider polite conversation.  Later a congregation of youngsters stood right behind my chair carrying on a loud conversation. This sort of freaked me out, because I do not like people standing right behind me. But anyway, after some of the pre-pubescent girls moved off leaving behind a cloud of cheap perfume, one of the guys asked the other "You gonna bump that?"

"I dunno", he mumbled, "She is only fourteen."

I am pretty sure polite citizens do not stand in the doorway of the candy store and shout across the mall "Hey Jimmie, Fuck you, man". Not even when the words are said with good nature and true bon hommie.

Later in the evening, the mall cops worn to a frazzle, I heard one tell a group of a dozen or more teenagers who were standing and talking and blocking one entire side of the walkway to "shop or leave". A couple of the girls thought this was an invitation to debate the issue. Soon Metropolitan Police joined the white-shirted mall security forces in escorting them from the building.

Heck, I wanted to go to a movie instead of the mall.  I got all of the entertainment I could stand without even having to buy popcorn.

Ch-ch-changes

It is a chilly start to a Saturday morning.  The perfect weather of the past few weeks has been replaced by - well, fall. I can hear a cold wind rattling the eves. OK, I am not even sure what that means in this modern age.  The wind is blowing hard this morning.

I updated my trusty iPhone to the new OS yesterday.  I did not turn on the "cloud".  I dig gadgets. My first cell phone was a full-sized phone in a bag. I had a Palm Pilot (TM) back in the day and and bought the succeeding new models up through the TREO.  This is my second or third iPhone. I have a Kindle and an iPad. I bought and installed a wireless printer for my office yesterday!  But the idea of my backup being stored out there in the ethernet...well, the concept does not give me the warm and fuzzy. If I lost the data on my phone, I would be sunk.

Like most old dogs, it is not the idea of learning a new trick, it is understanding why I need to learn it.I will adapt to change, it just may take me a bit of time.

This morning I will be updating the wife's phone and iPad while I peruse the interwebz. Have a safe and wonderful Saturday.

10 sure ways to cure procrastination

I will finish this post tomorrow.

How to lose a Republic in a few easy steps

We all know the Democrat Party is the Party of Big Government. The far-left wing has taken over in recent years. In the past few weeks we have seen prominent Democrats propose tyranny of the worst sort. The Democrat Governor of North Carolina proposed suspending Congressional Elections. Jesse Jackson Jr. suggested the Obama just ignore Congress and act by fiat to implement his agenda.

I have stated often I do not believe history repeats itself. As a student of history I am aware there are lessons in the past that show us how to interpret the present. It was but a short step from a republic to a dictatorship in ancient Rome. The Senate determined it was easier and more expedient to appoint a consul to handle the reigns of Government during a time of crisis. We all know the wheels of Democracy turn slowly.


Over time every day emergencies became crises and soon the very act of decision making was a crisis.  The next thing old Julius led his army across the Rubicon and the Empire was born. We saw a similar scenario in the rise of Hitler, Stalin, Mugabe, Castro and Chavez as they become leaders for life. Tyranny and loss of freedom always begins with suspension of elections or by giving increased and extra-constitutional powers to a single individual.   Hell, for you kids that do not study history, look to the plot of the first three episodes of Star Wars, for goodness sake.

It is starting. When the political class starts to ask for the protections of freedom to be subverted in the name of expediency, the Republic is lost. That duly elected representatives who have sworn to uphold the Constitution would suggest such actions is beyond my comprehension.

That there is no immediate hue and cry to recall these elected officials just saddens me.

Dear GOP

Perhaps I missed it.

Unless I hear Romney clearly and specifically disavow RomenyCare and promise to dismantle ObamaCare he will not get my vote. I need a commitment to scale back the EPA. I would rather watch Obama continue to destroy America as we know it rather than submit to the same results in  slower fashion.

I am sick of holding my nose and voting for a Democrat-Lite. Most Americans are conservative. Politicians with conservative leanings WIN elections. Take a look at the results of the 2010 elections -- the message was sent.  Are you listening?

The 2012 elections are your last chance. Offer up another Bush/Dole/Bush/McCain type candidate and the GOP will be sitting on the 2016 sidelines looking in just as the Whigs found themselves a century and a half ago when they became indistinguishable from the Democrats.

editied to add more.

Look, the GOP does not have to swing to the left to garner the vote of the Independents. Obama's popularity is quickly reaching GW levels. A great number of Americans are going to go into the voting booth and pull the lever for any name that is not Obama. We do not need more "moderate" candidates no one can get behind. Wake up, GOP.

Damn You Little Chocolate Donuts

I see you there on the kitchen island, mocking me, calling me, begging me to eat you. I hate you Hostess brand little chocolate donuts.

And damn you genetics for denying me the pleasure of munching away at that sweet, wonderful, synthetic chocolaty goodness that is little chocolate donuts.

Stupid diabetes. Stupid little chocolate donuts.

A beginning

Even in the dim light of the bar, one could tell she was beautiful. Her green eyes sparkled and provided a stark contrast to her auburn hair. That hair was of medium length, and it fell in soft curls along her face. The lips were a faint dusky rose, unadorned by lipstick.  Her straight nose was perfect for her face, sprinkled with a light dusting of freckles. If she wore makeup, it was so perfectly applied to be unnoticeable.

She was known among the bar regulars as the Red Baron. Not completely for the hue of her locks, but as much for the number of attempted suitors she had shot down.
---2008

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As I looked at the stars I saw the mighty hunter Orion, standing his winter sentinel.. His bow perpetually drawn across the Southern sky in a cold lonely vigil flanked by the brightness of Mars and Jupiter.
--2010

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I sat alone in the middle of the crowd.
--1987

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Phillip Mabry was a lonely man.
--1982

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Through the epochs of time cats have played an important role in history.
--1983 (from a short story called the cat Modeling School (a parody of the 1920's Berlin Modeling School movement)
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The silence of the pre-dawn morning was broken only by the occasional car or truck passing on the snow-slick two lane highway. A car slowed to a crawl as if closing in upon its prey. The rear end slid a little as the sedan skidded to a stop. The darkness was broken by the white flash of backup lights as the vehicle slowly backed up four dozen yards and turned into a narrow driveway. The sounds of a straining engine could be heard through the barely falling snow as the car lumbered through the mud and slush. The headlights bounced up and down and side to side in duplication of the rutted road. Snowflakes danced in the twin beams like chorus girls in the spotlight. Round and round the spun, climbing and falling to the ground in the wake of the slowly moving automobile.
--1992 (the whole first chapter was published here once, but I can not find it in the archives. Maybe I imagined it)  Edit:  here
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If, for some unimaginable reason you ever wanted to read more of my juvenile and unfinished scribblings you can find them in an old notebook, the cover yellowed by time, in my top dresser drawer under some stuff. I have not added to it in a while, this place gets my attention now. But one or two posts I thought were not too bad have been printed and thrown in the back to be discovered by history after I am dust. Worse, the first few pages of the notebook are filled with some god-awful poetry from the early 1980's.

I am Wall Street

credit http://curmudgeonlyskeptical.blogspot.com/

If you own stock, you are Wall Street.  If you participate in a pension plan, you are Wall Street. If you have a 401K, you are Wall Street.  If you have an IRA, you are Wall Street.

Frankly, I am a little miffed Wall Street is not making more profit.  That means more money for me.

It is time for the Commie Hippies to leave. If they put as much effort into looking for work as they do complaining their lives would be better. It is time to Occupy Mom's basement once again.

I get it.  Times are tough.  They were in 1984 when I graduated college with a worthless degree too.

Buck it up, take an entry level position and work hard. Rake leaves. Wait tables. Stock Holiday shelves. Handle boxes at UPS or FedEX..Get a CDL. At the very least, spend your time as a volunteer, help society instead of bitching about it.


Edit:  She is right   This is my last post about the idiots for a while.

Edit of the Edit:  Freddie is right  -- this is too good to pass up -- Thanks, Fred!

Click to embiggen

Dear Progressives

I know a secret. I did not think it was a secret, but I guess the truth has been hidden from many of today's youth, Democrats and welfare queens and liberal in general.

I am going to let the "Occupiers" in on the secret.  You see, businesses exist to make money. They do not exist to create jobs, to protect the environment, to help the disadvantaged among us. If they can make money and do those things, so much the better, but the first and foremost goal of any business is to make money.

How about I back up and start at the beginning? Let us say you want to make some money mowing lawns. Many of us did that in our younger days. You determine how much you should charge your potential customers to cut the grass. Do you do it for free? Only if it is you grandma's yard and you are a good kid. For the neighbors, you determine how much gas the job will take, how much time it will take and determine a price. In the end you hope to pocket some cash. You are now a businessman or businesswoman. You are making an evil profit.

Let us go one step further. You think you could make some serious money if you could mow more lawns.  To do that you need a better mower and maybe some other equipment. Your parents decide to chip in some money to buy the new mower in return for a percentage of the profits.  You are now (unofficially) a corporation. That is how it works.  Shareholders own a portion of a business in return for a percentage of the profits. If your mowing business does not make money the shareholders do not make money and will invest their money elsewhere.

At some point you get more and more yards to mow and you cannot keep up. You need to hire some help. You have ten extra yards a week to mow, enough for one person.  Both of your buddies Dave and Joe need a job. You can hire one to do all ten yards or you can hire each part time to do five, but you would not hire them both to do ten yards each would you?  You do not have enough work.  Now you have become a greedy corporation who only wants to make more money and not create enough jobs.

Business remains good.  After several years in the lawn care business you have expanded into snow removal, weed treating, tree trimming and landscaping in addition to mowing.  You might have ten or twenty employees. You make more money. You put it back into your little corporation and think life is good.  Now you hear the President call you greedy.   You hear him and his Democrat buddies threaten to increase your taxes. They claim they are going to increase your business taxes too.  The new Healthcare laws will add a significant cost to your business. State and local governments are trying to tax you more also.  The new Energy Department rules are going to increase the cost of electricity. Mandates for engines, exhaust, braking and fuel consumption are going to increase the cost of replacing your aging truck fleet by twenty percent.

You know your costs are going up, but you have no idea how much. Should you hire a new employee? Do you expect everyone to work harder, even if that means you make more money (and so do your shareholders)?

Guess what?  A bunch of unemployed college kids, Union agitators and far-left radicals are now sitting outside of your business, calling you evil, greedy and worse.

They also want use your bathroom.

Welcome to today's America. 

Wake Up

There are some people who like to make lists.  They put the "Pro" on one side and the "Con" on the other and tally the results to reach a decision.

The "Occupiers" are against the capitalist economic model. Here is a partial list of the nations that have and/or are attempting to use a anti-capitalist economic model:

Zimbabwe, Cuba, North Korea, Venezuela (and previously) The USSR, Cambodia, Vietnam, China, Laos, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Poland and East Germany -- among others.

In each case the nations that tried to live in an anti-capitalist economic system ended up with poorer living conditions, tyranny and a thriving (re: capitalist) black market.

Unless you are truly a die-hard Marxist you understand the east Germans did not build that wall to keep out the flood of capitalists from West Berlin? Those boatloads of people who left S.E Asia and Cuba -- they were not leaving a worker's paradise to come somewhere where the standard of living was worse did they? Were they seeking less freedom and a lower standard of living?

Here is the list of successful anti-capitalist economies:








.

I am

The 53 percent.

You know, the taxpayer. The one supporting the turds crying for Marxist intervention, for forgiveness of all loans (now there is a brilliant economic model), for a barter system, for the end to all corporations. 

I am not a black helicopter kind of guy.  The left sees the end of the Marxist experiments worldwide.  Socialism has bankrupted much of the world, and led to unsustainable welfare states. They will burn the place down rather than admit they were wrong.

I expect massive riots and looting in the coming months as the American left tries to save their failed politicians and policies.  

Yep, I agree

It is Sunday.  I stayed up way too late reading. I am mildly angry at myself.  I always do that -- rush to finish a book.  I want to get finished, but am sad when I am. So, I have knocked of three books in just over a week and am wondering what to read next. They were the first three installments of Michael Connelly's Lincoln Lawyer series. I have never been a big fan of mystery/crime thrillers, but these books kept me flipping the pages. Well, pushing buttons on my Kindle, anyway.  They were part of a three volume set I bought cheap.

I am pleased to know this author has a bunch more books available. If you have kept up with the program you will know I like to read the heck out of an author once I find one I like. Unfortunately, many times I read faster than the guy (or gal) can write or else the author has had the unspeakable bad grace to die before I become bored with his works.Such is life.

I read a few pages of a Mickey Mantle biography while eating my breakfast. I may keep on with that. Perhaps I will jump back into a western or two.  Maybe I will go with something more contemporary. I don't know and I am certain you don't care. I scored the Mantle book free on the Kindle just after it was published.  If you watch the internet there is some good free stuff out there!

There is nothing of significance on tap for today, just the kind of day a lazy bastid like me enjoys most. I mowed the yard Thursday evening and spent most of yesterday doing yard work.  I trimmed the bushes (I hope for the last time this year) and cut down the flower beds. I put some stuff in the attic.

Rereading this post, I can imagine all three of you saying to yourselves "so, what?" I say, look at the title.

I'm on my way to occupy Wall Street too!

Fucking Corporations. They suck the life right out of America. The banks are just as bad.

found many places

I wish they were all outlawed, then I would not have to worry about my car payment or my mortgage. If we could shed the corporations I would not have a car, a stove, a refrigerator, a furnace in the winter or air conditioner in the summer. No corporations means I do not have to worry about replacing ,my hot water heater in a few years. My clothes washer and dryer (and dishwasher too!) were made by evil corporate-types

Without corporations I would not have to take my diabetes meds, and a corporation-less society means my wife would not have the medicines she needed a couple of weeks ago while in the hospital. I would not have this computer or my phone. The calculator on my desk and the very clothing on my back are products of an evil corporation. My employer is a corporate entity. The company that made my desk, the carpet on the floor and the shoes on my feet are from an evil corporation.

I am with you Wall Street campers.  A barter society is what we need. Why I could trade my meds for a blanket. I could give up my laptop for some food. Brilliant idea!

And those who want the Government to take over the whole economy need look no further than the success of the old USSR, Cuba, Columbia and Central Africa to see the success of socialism and central planning. Walking to the store to stand in line for my one roll of allocated toilet paper and my few weekly ounces of meat has unappreciated health benefits!  Americans need more exercise! And if the Government provides only one model of car, I do not have to haggle with greedy capitalists on price. Plus, if there is a multi-year waiting list, I can hold off those impulse automobile purchases. If the Government controled my life, I could look forward to living like this:

A perfect day

This was my view as I sat on my deck at lunch and munched a tuna salad sandwich. Too bad my photo skillz and my iPhone capabilities are not up to the task of depicting truly perfect weather.

Picking a perfect pumpkin

It is finally Friday. This has been a seemingly long week.  I think it is because I had to leave very early Monday morning for a customer visit.  I then stayed up late that evening watching MNF. After the game I was not in the mood for sleep, so I read or a bit.  The end result was I started the work week with a 20 hour day followed by less than 4 hours sleep to start Tuesday and I have not recovered since.

I spent a good part of the week crunching numbers, never a favorite task of this old history major and the week has crushed my soul. I sit here and stare out the window at absolutely the most perfect weather one could imagine and pine to be one of Obama's hated millionaires and billionaires. Not for the money, but the idea I could skip work for the day and lounge on my deck in a cloud of cigar smoke and beer farts. I would read and listen to music and talk radio and just laze the week away in perfect bliss. Instead I am trying to determine how many HM5184410's each customer is planning on using next year.

On the plus side, it is Friday. We have fresh bread and I think tuna salad is on the menu for lunch -- unless I choose peanut butter instead. I hope you have a great day.

Fox News Sucks

I am always hearing from the liberals Commies socialists Progressive types how biased an uneven the reporting can be at Fox News. Some have become as shrill as a plastic cuckoo clock, chiming Faux News every time a report is given that portrays the Downgrade-in-Chief and current occupant of the White House in a negative light.
 

Take a look at this , my Progressive friends. I am sure you will have some comments.  I look forward to your opinion.

Homosexual pygmy sex

Every day the posting section is a blank slate waiting for me to type words of wisdom or entertainment or commentary for your enjoyment. Today, I have nothing.

Free Wall Street

Enough already.

It is time for the filthy, hippy, rat bastard commies to go somewhere else.

Frying potatoes in bacon grease

This week looks to be one of those two or three weeks we get in the heart of the nation with absolutely perfect weather. Things around here are usually TOO.  As in too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry. This week we are looking at bright blue cloudless skies and temperatures in the 70s and low 80s: Chamber of Commerce weather.You get the idea.

The weather is perfect and I am stuck in the office working on my 21012 business plan. Am I bitching -- nope, I am glad to have a job. While I complain about work, I have worked at a few worse places and not many that are better. I think it is our nature to complain, to look for the best in life and work.

This week the city is picking up nearly anything you want to throw out on your normal trash day.  If two guys can lift it, you can put it out by the curb. Nothing hazardous is allowed (tires, paint, etc), but all else is fair game. The city will even take old appliances, as long as the doors are off the hinges and coolants are removed. Old furniture, boxes, junk of all kinds ends up by the curb. Last night we put out some stuff -- things we could not sell for even a dime at the last garage sale, an old ottoman, the cloth torn and spitting out stuffing, a smashed remnant of a long-ago received fruit basket.

I was not surprised to wake this morning with most of my "trash" neatly stacked and picked over.  The late night trash vultures came through the neighborhood, headlights off, scanning the curbs and drives for the good stuff. Most of the junk my neighbors and I put out is gone long before the city employees make their pickup. I don't care, as long as the junk is out of my garage I am a happy boy. But the trash vultures do crack me up. The twice yearly heavy trash pick up days is living proof of the accuracy of the old adage "what is one man's trash is another man's treasure".

Reason 1,277 you wish you were me

Working on my 2012 business plan.

It is not fun.  There are no games (except the ones in Management's estimates for my territory). Someone has been looking at the world with the rosiest of rose colored glasses.

Now I have to have a big ugly reality fight.

Do you want to take bets on who wins?

Just getting it off my chest here boss...

This is a post about last night's Monday Night Football game. It is merely observations and rants from a biased perspective.

Curtis Painter was so-so at best. He gets credit for some great running after the catch by Garcon. In fact, if you look at the line, he was bad, no better than Collins in the previous starts.

Garcon makes some great plays and drops some easy balls.

Austin Collie made a great shoestring catch.

The offensive line was terrible.  Mike Pollack is just bad.he has a future as a matador after he retires from the NFL.

Note to Coach Jim "Punt the ball" Caldwell : you cannot win games punting the ball. Grow a pair. Late in the game, score tied and the ball was near midfield. On 3rd and and inches the Colts try to pass the ball. Incomplete. It is now late in the game, ball right at midfield still, it is now 4th and a cunt hair, and Caldwell PUNTS! I looked at my dozing wife and in a curse-laced tirade pronounced the game over and lost.

The Colts prevent defense does nothing but prevent the defense from getting off the field. How many times do we have to see little slants and dump passes to the backs 6-8 yards in the middle to understand we do not have the scheme or the players? How about an occasional blitz? Why in the hell did the team cut one of their better corners last week?

It is becoming increasingly apparent the Manning is one of the greatest signal callers in history. With nearly the same roster he led them to the brink of an undefeated season two years ago and to double digit wins last year. He covers up a lot of weaknesses that are now glaring on this team. I think there is little doubt he deserves each of his MVP awards.

This Indianapolis Colts team is bad.

Does this post make my butt look fat?

Sooo, we find ourselves fresh and ready for the work week, right?

There is no Ella Fitzgerald warbling in the audio soundtrack of this post, no wine glass exploding in multitudinous shards of crystal before your very eyes, but you need ask yourself the vital question of the day: is it real or Memorex? You see I occasionally write posts days or weeks in advance. Some I spit out on the fly, others are stored and massaged and edited for content like a TV Movie.

I often think my best efforts are those produced in the moment, when my fingers dance a Texas Two Step across the keyboard, the space bar chiming in at random premature intervals.

Space bar issues. The bane of my life.You have seen this tendency in my seldom offered commentary at other blogs and the occasionally poorly edited offerings around here.For some reason my thumb hits the space bar at random and premature intervals. The tendency highlights and magnifies my already sketchy spelling skills.

Sometimes there is a hint as to the spontaneity of the textual offering. If it is a YouTube posted midweek the odds are 50/50 it is a canned post. If the writing contains bad syntax and is filled with sarcasm and vitriol it is probably live and unrehearsed. The "monkey in the brain" post I wrote last week was done in about two minutes and was live, with little or no editing except for spelling and space bar. In fact everything you have read here since the post of September 21 has been freshly produced. No reruns, no old efforts stored away waiting for their big blogosphere debut.

Probably 98% of the content that barely passes for entertainment around here is live. Rest assured the meager creativity and low quality writing you find around here is not the work of careful editing and polishing. That would be too sad to to ponder. I would hate for you to think this is the best I could do, the words massaged and reworked: the sentences crafted and honed to the best of my abilities. Like my job and my life, most of the meaningless and nonsensical utterances you read here are ad libbed, off the cuff, diarrhea of the brain exposed for all to gape and wonder and click exit as soon as possible.

Except this post. Though it lacks polish and refinement and especially content, it was written on a Sunday morning in the not too distant past and saved in a cyber closet for just this occasion. I have cut off the tags and smoothed the wrinkles and thrown it on for you to enjoy.

Is my slip showing?

Have a great Monday, I have made other plans.

Secret Talks Indicate Spice Girls Reunion

I am a bit late getting at the old blog this fine and sunny Sunday morning.

I have a confession, I really have nothing of note to offer.

Hey, I can hear you. "Nothing new in that". Nice, real nice. Here I sit, my coffee is growing cold. My brain hurts from the tremendous effort of trying to entertain you and all you offer in return is sarcasm. Well here is some news, sport, sarcasm is the protest of the weak.

And yes I stole that quote.*

Is is another NFL Sunday. Speaking of football -- welcome to the Big Ten you Cornhuskers.

I do not think I did a post on politics all week. That could be a first in more than six years of brain dumping.

If this blog post was a fine wine the review would read something like "Starts off weak and kind of fizzles at the end. A leathery note of bad apples, rotten tomatoes, and sour grapes leaves a lingering taste of wasted effort on the palate".

* John Knowles

A post where I ramble a bit and then come to a weak finish. You will want to read it though, because there could be some really good stuff in the middle. Or maybe not. You will not know if you do not click and read.

I woke up early this morning. The bladder is the most efficient alarm clock in the world. It may not keep good time, but it lacks a snooze button.

I had an argument with the coffee filters and lost. Hey, I don't need your scorn. Maybe I wanted two filters.
 
I went out to fetch the paper and Orion stared down at me through the chilly fall air. That, my friends, is as sure a sign as you will find that the cold winter months are not far in the future. The Big Dipper pointed at the North Star just above my roof as I trudged up the driveway.

My youngest child has to go take the SATs this morning. Secretly I agree, what a way to ruin a Saturday.

It is a special day around here. It is my Son's birthday. No, I do not repeat myself. I said I do not repeat myself. Yesterday was my youngest kid's birthday, today marks my middle child's anniversary of sliding headfirst through the birth canal. Yep, we have back-to-back birthdays around here (in fact, if you scroll down a bit,  you will find all three of my progeny have birthdays within two weeks of each other). Not that you care, but you should. I have said it many times in the past, if you are not actively and directly working to make my life better, you should be helping someone who is.

Birthdays -- do you think it strange we have a custom of celebrating a trip through nature's most traumatic water slide? I find it curious we mark with pride the slow march toward the end of life, and celebrate the completion of each step on the rocky path. Maybe I am looking at it all wrong. Subconsciously we must view the passing of each of the mile markers along life's highway with joy, since we avoided Death's Merry Band of Highwaymen yet one more time. In that light, I suppose a celebration is in order.

Anyway, today marks my oldest boy and middle child's 23rd trip around the sun. We will not see him today, he lives about 1-1/2 hours north of me, but the entire family is going to meet up in the Big City tomorrow to have a celebratory dinner.

At this point I have no plans for this Saturday. I have a bunch of movies on the DVR. I am in the middle of a kick-ass book -- The Lincoln Lawyer. Perhaps I will change the furnace filters. I have the wife convinced that  is a big and difficult task that consumes a lot of time. I suspect she lets me believe I have her fooled. I might just find time to take a nap. In retrospect, I do have a busy enough day in store.

I hope you enjoy your Saturday.