when politics trumps morals

If you found out the local animal shelter took the unwanted puppies and kittens after they were euthanized and cut them up and sold them for dog food, would this bother you? Would you be up in arms, protesting outside the animal shelter?

Be honest. No one will know but you.


Tell me again how you are Okay with Planned Parenthood chopping up babies and selling their body parts.

Boo f-ing hoo, or How President Obama and his friends ruined my life

I met with the big boss from the German home office yesterday. He told me they are most pleased with my efforts. As a reward, my territory will double in January. The pay will remain static, mind you, but I will get to spend more time driving and traveling. I will rack up the hotel points. That means I can reward myself with a vacation from living my weekdays in hotels by going somewhere and spending time in a hotel! But I'm bitching over small things. I like my job and I am honestly glad to have it. I'm in a peevish mood this month. I need a vacation, but can't afford it. I have the aforementioned hotel points. I could stay just about anywhere gratis. But food and gas and activities take moolah. I can sit in a room and stare at the TV without leaving God's favorite state and it won't deplete my precious point fund. Anyway, at home I know who has handled what before they rubbed it on the remote. On the downside, If I take vacation days at home, the wife will put me to work doing stuff; cleaning the garage, yard work, painting something.

As mentioned the other day, today marks my youngest kid's 22nd birthday. He was just a boy when we started this blogging stuff. There are tales of his efforts in little league and elementary football there in the archives. Now he is a student at a major Midwestern university -- no, that is not the start of a "Dear Penthouse" letter. I will see him Friday. He is having all four wisdom teeth extracted. Sucks to be him. Since my insurance has a very high deductible, thank you Democrat Party, ObamaCare has been great (did the sarcasm font work?), my vacation funds will be spent at the dental surgeon's office.

See, it all ties in if you just stick to the end.

A Series Of Significant Signs Signaling Stupendous Stuff

a flock of geese just flew over the house heading...east. What does that mean? Are they heading south for the winter and made a wrong turn back in Albuquerque? Are they making a stop in Atlantic City before heading to Florida? Are the honking geese not migrating at all today and are merely heading for the retention pond in the apartment complex on the other side of the highway? I'm afraid we will never know. Frankly, I don't even care. I doubt you do either.

I had a weird dream that I knew the future, more accurately I knew what was happening now but was transported back in time. My Cassandra-like powers were not a blessing. It was terrible. No wonder Fate is often depicted as an ugly crone.

No travels this week. The boss is in from Germany. I'm off  to the plant for meetings this afternoon. 

I am awake and alive. God has given me another day. Hard to complain about that.

Odiferous Offerings

Once again it is Monday morning and my big bucket of blog ideas is empty.

The Pope has boarded his jumbo jet to fly back to his own private migrant-free country to settle in amongst his priceless artworks to pen another diatribe about global warming, the evils of capitalism, and exhorting every nation except Vatican City to take in more migrants.

The Cardinals, the baseball ones, not the Catholic ones who vote for the Pope, the Pirates, and the Cubs have the three best records in baseball. One of them will be eliminated in a one game wildcard playoff. Life ain't fair and it was never meant to be.

The Colts pulled off an ugly win Sunday. Scores throughout the season are not cumulative and a lucky two point victory is as much a win as a thirty point blowout in the standings. The team has serious flaws. I have no doubt the Patriots will drop sixty points on the Colts when they come to call in a few weeks.

I watched the eclipse on and off last night, between innings of the baseball game. Just as the Earth's shadow darkened the lunar body the clouds moved in and kept the moon hidden for the test of the night. I imagine that kept the werewolves at bay.

The big boss arrives from the Mother Country tomorrow. Expense reports are also due this week. I better get busy. Blogs don't pay the bills. Have a good Monday.

I conducted the same number of mammograms as Planned Parenthood did last year.

The Cubs have clinched a playoff spot. Life is good. Considering just how bad they have been for the past half-dozen years, making a one game do-or-die playoff is welcome.

The Pope has come to the US to lecture us on a variety of topics. When is he going to sell off church property, paintings, golden altars, relics, and antiques to start helping the poor? How many Syrian migrants is he going to allow to set up camp in St. Peter's Square? Is he going to quit traveling in that big jet plane and go coach? That's what I thought. A pointed hat does not always cover a pointy head. The United States Federal Government spent $949,000,000,000 in welfare spending in 2014. That does not include state and local programs or private charity. It does not include humanitarian aid we provide across the globe. This country helps the poor far in excess of a trillion dollars a year. Much of which we are borrowing, leaving the interest and debt to our children and grandchildren. When the Vatican can boast of similar generosity I will listen. Until then, the Pope can take his lecture and shove it.

The family will gather this evening to celebrate my kids' birthdays (is that the right syntax?). You read that right. All three of my kids have birthdays within a two week period. The boys days are actually just a day apart. The daughter had her day on the 14th. The boys will celebrate on the 30th and 1st. We are all going out to dinner for a joint celebration this evening. Life is good.

The sky is overcast this morning. I love this time of year. The days are warm without the humidity. The evenings and mornings cool and refreshing. It brings to mind campfires and cider. I remember the smell of burning leaves, a smell indelibly impressed on my mind that is as much a part of fall as pumpkins and Halloween. Alas, most people under forty have likely never smelled a leaf pile burning, experienced the low haze of smoke settling over the neighborhood. Kids today don't have to make a snap judgement -- do I ride my bike through that pile of leaves by the curb or are they smoldering underneath? Maybe that is just my memory and rampant leaf burning was just a tradition in my little hick hometown. I do know getting rid of fallen leaves was a little easier when you could just rake the leaves into a pile out by the curb and set them on fire.

Partying in a Pope Hat

Winter is coming. There was the faintest bit of russet and gold amongst the green of the trees in Minnesota and Wisconsin during my travels this week. Which brings us to this week's Friday music selection.

I had the Agents of Fortune album on 8 track back in the seventies. (Mmmm-click-click.. )I think I had it on vinyl too. While I might have dropped a couple of bucks on an LP, I was never a big BOC fan. There is a sketchy and tenuous link between the leaves dying and this song, but I'm not up to the task of fleshing out the idea. Just listen to the music and enjoy your Friday.

It was my intention to put up some Fleetwood Mac this morning. I think the harmonies on the song Dreams are beautiful. When I woke, BOC was playing in my head, so here we are.

I have questions

Hillary Clinton has finally stated her position on the Keystone Pipeline. Notice how she timed it to get buried under the Pope news? The Pontiff talked about "economic imperialism" and immigration. I'm not sure where those fall under the category of religion, but the Pope has spoken. Since I'm not Catholic, I can say that I think the Pontiff can be fallible. Maybe Catholics use a different Bible. It seems to me that the Old Testament serves as a cautionary tale against migration. The Jews found themselves in Egypt, in Assyria, in Babylon and in each case wanted nothing more than to get back to Israel. Every time they got away from the land of Abraham they needed prayer and martyrdom and God's intervention to get them back home. That seems a pretty clear object lesson. But, as usual, I digress.

Clinton has come out against building the Keystone Pipeline because of global warming. Now I have a serious question. How can transporting crude through pipes underground have a larger carbon footprint than toting it by truck?  Seriously, could someone from the "WeAreAllGonnaDie" global warming/climate change crowd explain this to me? Now I suppose the Teamsters are going to be OK with Hillary's position, but how does she explain to the tens of thousands of union construction workers that she is not interested in getting them "infrastructure " work?  How will she explain to the American people that she is more in favor of buying oil from OPEC and the Saudis, that she wants you and me to pay more for gas to fight global warming?  Of course as soon as the pipeline is dead look for OPEC to Jack the price per barrel again.  You do not think the current price is a coincidence do you? Of course no one in the media will bother to ask her these questions. Maybe the answer is lost somewhere in her secret email files.

Dear Indianapolis Colts

You went out and spent big bucks for a stud free agent running back. Why in blazes are you passing on third and two and third and one?

What a maroon

Apparently Lindsey Graham was spouting off on one of the Sunday news programs yesterday. He recounted a tale of a kid he met in Kabul, who moved to the United States and became a citizen. Graham said he hoped that wonderful kid could be president some day. To paraphrase a classic SNL skit; "Lindsey, you ignorant slut..." you have been in the Senate for how many terms? You have run for President two or three times. You swear to uphold the Constitution, yet you are too  stupid to know a naturalized citizen CANNOT become president? You are a fucking tool. If you are one of the leaders of the GOP, then the nickname of "stupid party" is especially apt. Since all of those old blond jokes are now probably verboten by the PC police, I'm going to recycle them as Lindsey Graham jokes.

For some reason yesterday's post reminded me of an old effort from back in 2012. Hunting back through the archives I found stuff I don't even remember writing, including a short story about a kid in junior high being abused by the class bitch. I had no idea I wrote that. I remember writing a half-assed tale about a mean old drunk, but not that one. Alas, like most of my literary efforts it died for lack of imagination and talent. Anyhow, the frame of mind that inspired yesterday's ramblings reminded me of This post

In the meantime, me and Elvis are off to Blue Hawaii.

North Star blues

I miss the stars. We moved to the suburbs almost two years ago. I love our house, the neighborhood and the nearness of shopping and dining options. Previously if I wanted to buy a pair of pants, for instance, I could go to WalMart, the farm supply store, or...no other choice unless I drove thirty or forty minutes to Indianapolis. Now, I can be at three different malls in fifteen minutes. There are many advantages to living here, the best of which is I am closer proximity to all of my kids.

Living amongst the more than eighty-thousand in my town, surrounded by the million-plus in the metropolitan area means congestion, people, crime, and light pollution. I miss seeing the stars.

Thunder rumbles in the background as rain taps a steady rhythm on the roof and gurgles in the downspouts. It is a good day for reflection. Last night I saw a snapshot from a long-ago family gathering. I don't remember the event. I was maybe eight or nine. Dead relatives smile back at me in the picture. I look at the photograph and I instantly remember the people as they were and as they are today. I miss my youth, but would not repeat it for anything.

I miss seeing the stars, yet would not move back to the small town under any circumstances.

I Nearly Forgot

It is Friday. This is music. Thus, this is your Friday Music Selection. You must listen and enjoy. The Obamassariat decrees it so.

Kerouac

I rolled out of Dubuque on old US Highway 52. The pavement rode the bluffs along the river; curving and climbing the Iowa coast. After about 30 miles the road turned east and I crossed the Mighty Missippi on a grated narrow bridge. I sloped across the northwest corner of Illinois seemingly alone on the highway. I turned on the baseball game and for a while felt transported to a time I never knew. I took a one block detour to see the birthplace of Wild Bill Hickok ( who wouldn't) before turning onto the interstate. I picked up U.S. 24 before rejoining US 52 near the heavily guarded Indiana border (just checking to see if you are paying attention). I eventually got home.  It was another day driving the heartland. It was yet another thousand mile week. I like my job. I don't mind the travel; the being away from home. It is the hours of windshield time each week that are sucking my life away. Thirty-four thousand plus miles since the beginning of the year is too much driving time. I get three more states at the first of the year.

The same, only different

My posts this week have been a lot like the weather, remarkably banal.  At least the weather is pleasant. I don't suppose my efforts are disagreeable, rather more akin to dry white toast.  Perhaps my automotive excursion today will provide the necessary chipped beef gravy, or blog fodder, if you prefer, to make the postings palatable.

Dang, now I'm thinking of gravy, and I'm suddenly jonesing for some biscuits and sausage gravy. Mmmm, gravy....

riveting

The sunrise is fantastic on this chilly fall morning. The day looks to be warm this afternoon. After yesterday's lackluster blogging performance you might think I would put up a strong offering today by way of atonement. You would be wrong.

Yesterday was my daughter's birthday. I plan on mowing the yard after work. Two multiplied by itself equals four. It is trash day. The granddaughter is here, she all stuffed up with a little baby cold. That does not stop her from smiling at me though. Mundane stuff.

I'll keep it short so you don't waste any more time. Have a great Tuesday.

Been there, seen that

Stuff that cracks me up:

A Chihuahua in Mexico -- Costa Maya 2015

Yo quiero Taco Bell?

I'm just a ball on Fate's billiard table

I feel awful. I forgot about you this morning. I could blame work or life. That would be a lie. The plain fact is I have nothing of interest for you or me. You will have to carry on without me. Maybe later.

Dear Girl at the Donut Shop

it serves no purpose to wear those plastic gloves to keep your germs off my donuts if you are going to wear them all of the time, like working the register when I pay for said donuts.

I will overlook the hygienic transgression because your donuts are so very, very, good.

Quit yer cryin' NOLA

Reunion Island once got 72 inches of rain in a 24-hour period. For my fellow history majors out there, that is six feet of rain in one day.

 Katrina dropped 8-10 inches of rain on New Orleans.

Today

I almost always have a post on December 7 about Pearl Harbor. Most years I recognize Memorial Day and Veteran's Day. Each year I am increasingly reluctant to write a tribute about 9/11. I'm sure an analyst could get to the root of the matter. Perhaps it is just the media saturation in the days leading up to the anniversary of that fateful day. There will not be a 9/11 memorial post this year either.

I have a post swirling in my brain about our blindness to the threat of Islamic Terrorism on 9/10/2001 and the Democrats who just armed our Iranian enemies -- ironically on 9/10. Once again my senator, Joe Donnelly, proves he thinks he is in Washington to represent the Democrat Party, not the people of Indiana.

Postcard from the road

Well I made it down to Springfield. The weather is great. I have to see a couple of customers this morning so I don't think I will have time to visit with Homer and Marge. I may or may not go out by the battlefield before hitting the road back home.

The drive down was uneventful. It rained on and off until I reached St Louis.  I listened to the end of an audiobook and started another before switching over to the baseball game. The Cubs bullpen blew the game in the eighth and let me tell you, the Cardinals broadcasters were going wild. I listened to radio music for the last hour of the trip.

I have to jump in the shower and see what the hotel has for breakfast. Then back on the road.

Hope to see you soon,

Joe

Lying liars and the lies they tell

Hillary's latest excuse is that illegally keeping Government email on her private server was OK because the State Department said it was OK. She claimed this in an AP interview on Monday. Too bad the reporter did not follow up with the unstated and obvious point -- Clinton was the Secretary of State at the time. That means Hillary Clinton was IN CHARGE of the State Department. It was only "Okay" because she said it was.

If Clinton did nothing wrong why is that server wiped clean? Why did she refuse to turn it over for months? I keep thinking of Nixon's blank tapes....too bad Democrats cannot muster the same outrage they managed in 1972.

Let my people go

The locusts are in the trees, telling the world they are as randy as a teenager. Their chirping song is the insect version of Frankie crooning at Annette out on the beach. I hear them every year at this point in the season and think nothing of it -- until the events of last night.

I had thawed some chicken breasts for supper yesterday. We spent the afternoon at Lowes, Menards, and Home Depot sizing up and pricing  various options and colors for full view storm doors. We did not buy anything because the one of us not named Joe cannot make a decision. After which, we came home. I plopped on the couch to watch the Cubs give a smack-down to the evil Cardinals. The wife decided to mosey down to the mall to look for some jeans or something. I wasn't really paying attention. Sometimes when she talks it is as if I am Charlie Brown and she is the teacher. She stayed late at the mall and called to tell me she did not want grilled chicken for dinner and let us meet down at Scotty's Brewhouse on 96th Street. We did. She ordered a grilled chicken sandwich. I said nothing about that.*

The wife wanted me to follow her to Target to look at a crib. As I got in my car to come home I could see some critter perched on my wiper blade barely visible in the last remaining twilight. I thought at first it was a locust, but closer examination showed it to be a wee frog. How it got there, I don't know. I was not parked anywhere near a tree nor water. As I turned onto the street he moved around and perched on my window, just behind the mirror to avoid the slipstream. When we got to Target I parked next to the wife and showed her the frog/toad on my window. She too thought it weird. I pried him off and put him by the cart rack.

We came home watched TV blah, blah this has gone on too long already. Fast forward to eleven-something. I am heading up to bed. I step into the kitchen to get a drink and notice something clinging to the screen on the patio door. Stupid locust I imagine. I walk over and no, it is no locust, no giant moth, but rather a frog! * *  I know. Two frogs are trying to kill me in one day cannot be a coincidence. It must be a plague. Frogs. Locusts. If the water in my little fountain out back turns to blood I'm gonna crap my pants. Did anyone hear tell of the authorities finding a baby floating down the White River in a basket? Are they building pyramids over at Conner Prairie? You decide: paranoia or pattern.




* none of this is relevant but "Dude, I found a frog on my windshield and then later a different one was on my patio door" seems far less interesting and a much shorter post to me. Skip to here next time if you are a Spark Notes kind of guy or gal.

** yes I know both were probably toads, but you have to go with frog for the second plague reference. Sheesh, lighten up, Francis.

i am sure

We have a digital scale in the bathroom. It does not speak, but it does exaggerate and lie every time I step on it.

Next verse same as the first

Remember yesterday's post? You did read yesterday's post, right? Just ignore all of the swimming pool party stuff. Pretend it did not happen because....it did not happen. Our friends live about an hour north and it was cloudy with a strong chance of rain yesterday while today is to be hot and sunny and dry. It is a much better day for swimming and such. Mentally cut and paste the pertinent parts of yesterday's post right here:



You can do the video too if you like.

We ended up going down to the local farmer's market and walking around. We picked up a cobbler and some apple butter and scored some sweet corn. It did cloud up here in the late afternoon, but it did not rain.

Have a good Sunday.

A little of this, a little of that

My granddaughter loves blueberries. She will gobble them down as fast as you can give them to her. Her fondness for blueberries extends to blueberry pancakes and blueberry yogurt. So it is no surprise the wife keeps a stash of blueberries in the 'fridge. I was tempted to snatch a few to put on my Cheerios this morning. Tempted is the key word. I did not do it. Stealing from your kid's piggy bank is one thing, copping the granddaughter's blueberries is a crime of a different level. *

It is nice to have good friends. It is even better when said friends have cool stuff. It is best when those friends let you share in their cool stuff. Our best friends just put in a new in-ground swimming pool. We are off today to take a dip in their new cement pond. We will laugh, drink a few brews, smoke a couple of stogies this afternoon and round the evening with a cookout and some euchre.

Our pool party will be NOTHING like this, but it does give me a reason to put up some gratuitous nudity on a holiday weekend. Click or don't click.

I'm off to the store to get the stuff to make a pasta salad and some lemon bars. I would not go to a cookout or pool party empty-handed. Of course, now the weatherman has changed a forecast that has been predicting no rain today for a week to a chance of rain this afternoon. Must I bring clouds into every life?

It is a holiday weekend, the traditional end of summer. What are you doing on the interwebz? Get out and do something. Shut of that computer, laptop, tablet, or phone. Have some fun.


* it is a joke, relax you micro-offended out there. 

Choices

A few years ago a group of Muslims objected to handling dog food and pork while working as check-out associates at Target. I said do the job, quit, or be terminated. I feel likewise about the Clerk in Kentucky. Gay marriage is the law of the land. You don't have to agree. If handing out marriage licenses to gay couples is morally objectionable, you can quit. There is no other legal choice and refusing to do your job should be grounds for termination. No one is forcing her to break her moral code. She does have an option, not a good option, but an option. It is no different than the Target Store workers.

When the man signs your check, you do what he says or quit. Life works that way.

It is going to be alright

Do not be too disappointed over the quality of today's offering. I went back and read the entries for every September 4th for each year in the archives. Not one of them was remarkable.

Inevitable Return of Friday Music

How about a trip back to the seventies today? I was not a huge Boston fan in my youth, but over time have acquired a better appreciation for their music.

It looks like a good weekend is on tap for the holiday weekend, though hot and humid. I have yard work to do, but plan to relax a bit as well.  How about you? Anything fun planned?

it might be, it could be, Home Run!

Now that we are into September, July weather has arrived. Temps are forecast in the nineties for the next several days. GlobalWarmingClimateChangeWeAreAllGoingToDie zealots will nod their heads sagely. They will wring their hands and exclaim that something, anything, even if it will not change the thermometer one fraction of a degree, must be done. The level-headed among us will just nod and muse that it has certainly been hot in early September in the past. Fret not, Climateers, like the Starks remind us, winter is indeed coming. I hope just not soon.

I went to the doctor this morning. My blood sugar is still too high, but much better. We will increase the dosage of medicine. Thank goodness we are bumping the cheap pill dose, not the expensive Lantus --for now.  This high deductible policy sucks. Thanks Obama and every fucking Congressional Democrat. You have managed to get insurance for a fraction of the uninsured on the back of my policy, premiums, deductibles, and wallet.

It rained buckets yesterday afternoon; so hard the gutters could not handle it. After the rain the temperature was a very comfortable upper seventies, but the humidity was downright Mississippi summer-like.

It is hump day and the long weekend is getting closer. I can't hardly wait. I need a vacation.

Why I hate Peter Frampton

It must have been my freshman year in high school. Frampton's live album was all the rage that bicentennial year. Perhaps it was the winter of '77. I was a scrawny short nothing: the quiet kid in the back row of the advanced English class. The weird kid who turned red whenever a girl spoke to him.

Miss Parker was teaching about poetry. She told how a poem came in many forms from traditional to the plays of Shakespeare to a song. Our assignment was to find a poem that we liked, that spoke to us as a person. We would read our poems to the class.

I had been reading a significant number of books about the Revolutionary War, it was,as I mentioned, the bicentennial. Somewhere I had acquired a thin tome of writings related to the Revolution: Patrick Henry's Liberty or Death speech, essays by Paine, and Emerson's Concord Hymn. Perfect. That was a poem!

The day came. The first girl stood up to read her poem. She read lyrics from a Peter Frampton song. I sat smugly, I had a real poem. Everyone would see how smart I was, finding a poem that marked our country's revolutionary struggles.

The next girl also read lyrics from Frampton Comes Alive. So did the next. A guy read lyrics from another song. My head began to pound. Another girl read song lyrics. Another student read more Frampton. Panic starts slow and builds. At fourteen embarrassment is the worst possible outcome to any situation.  More lyrics. I hated that fucking Frampton guy.

Just a few students left. Look down, Joe. Maybe Miss Parker will forget about you. No. My turn. My brain screams "Turn it to your advantage". I take a superior tone and tell the class I have a "real" poem of historical significance. I read my Emerson. Blank faces stare at me, even Miss Parker has that WTF? look on her face. Oh god, I'm the weird kid. Loser, geek, nerd, spaz, "didja hear about Joe Hoosierboy?", dork.

 The final two or three students read their poems to the class. All read song lyrics, my memory says they read Frampton, but I was in catatonic embarrassment shock. Woe. I was very short. Very skinny. Couldn't play basketball. Read some kind of weird-ass poem in freshman English class. It was going to be a long four years of high school, but I was sure of two things -- I would never ever knowingly take a poetry class in the future and  Peter Frampton was an asshole..