Anchors Away

Executive Orders are a loathsome way to legislate. Originally designed to lay the foundation for executive philosophy -- ie.; a call for a general day of Thanksgiving -- they now serve as a means for the President to legislate outside of Congress.  Why the Legislative Branch hasn't gone running to the Judicial Branch to get these kind of EOs stopped remains a mystery.  

Well not really, the Judiciary is doing their best to usurp the Legislative Branch's authority too. 

Trump has floated the idea he may try to stop birthright citizenship for illegals via Executive Order. It does not work that way:

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the state wherein they reside. source

The language of the 14th Amendment is plain as can be. The President does NOT have the power to alter the Constitution. Anyone born in the US is a citizen. EOS.  

There is a means to get rid of anchor babies. Executive Order is not one of them.

Stay Classy Lefties

No, it does not take a village

There is evil in this world. We are each responsible for our actions. The Pittsburgh Synagogue murderer is one of the evil ones.

Anti-Semitic Democrats and haters like Louis Farakhan are not responsible for the murders any more than President Trump is responsible for the pipe bomb mailer, or Bernie Sanders for the guy who shot Republicans practicing baseball.

As a conservative, I believe in personal responsibility. Put the blame where it belongs. If the news organization you read or watch finds a way in one of the three cases cited above to blame a third party for an act of evil,  I would seek an alternate source for my news.

But then you are responsible for the misinformation you choose to ingest.

Rambles for posterity; a long post written for me

It is strange to go back to the old hometown. People who grew up on my street with me showed up to Mom's funeral. These are folks I  have not seen in decades. It is a tribute to the respect many held my for my mother.

 It demonstrates yet one more time my lack of empathy. Had I heard of the passing of some of their parents I would have thought "That's too bad" and went on with whatever I was doing. It is certainly a character defect on my part.

I rationalize things by imagining that had I stayed in the small town where I grew up I might keep in better touch or be more aware of the community in general. In my shrunken heart I know better. There are many reasons I have never attended a class reunion. It is further evidence that while I am trying to be better, I remain an asshole in a world of good people. I clearly have a lot of work to do. Many commenters over the years have tried to tell me so.

Yeah, I'm probably not going to change. And no, I don't want to be hugged by old ladies, or people I don't know, or by people I haven't seen or spoken to in forty years. In fact, outside of my wife and family, I don't really want to be hugged (or touched) by anyone. I told you I am an asshole. But I was a very good boy yesterday. Mom would have been proud. Oh, and I got that "don't touch me" thing from her, so...

Lots of people showed up for Mom's memorial. A score of old ladies said "You must be one of the sons, you look just like your Mom". No, I'm standing up front in a suit and I'm the right age. Good guess. Besides I look nothing like my mother. I am the spitting image of the milkman though.  Honestly. My dad was a milkman when I was born. I know, no one knows what to say, so that " you look like your mom" is a good opening.

Upon re-reading I can say the whole preceding paragraph is even more evidence I need to change.

The minister clearly knew my Mom. His eulogy was spot on. No canned "funeral sermon" from him. My mom was hard, exacting, unbelievably kind and loving. There was but one way to do stuff and she had no problem telling anyone, and I mean anyone, they were doing it wrong. Her standards were high, and she helped anyone she could to meet those standards. She helped charities and people in the small ways she could. Her organization skills were enormous and she could bring order from chaos wherever it was needed. I'm am certain co-workers, friends, and people she knew called her a bitch and the most wonderful person they had ever met all in the same breath. Sometimes I did too.

I'm gonna miss you mom.




*you are going to read that part at the end and think I am unbelievably mean and cold. I typed it with an enormous amount of love and respect. And I wager that anyone who knew my mom would agree with the sentiment wholeheartedly.

Disco Stu

I took my wife to a disco last weekend. There was a guy on the dance floor giving it large; break dancing, moon walking, back flips, the works.

My wife turned to me and said, “See that guy? 25 years ago he proposed to me and I turned him down.”

“Looks like he’s still celebrating!!” I replied.

Ch-ch-changes

It is raining today. I'm sitting here in my office. I've been up since around three. Now I need a nap. So it goes.

It has been a week of highs and lows. The lows you know. The good news is I have accepted a new job. My last one was not my dream job. I won't disparage my employer. Suffice to say I have moved on. I'm excited about this opportunity. A little more travel, but not excessive. A little international travel too. Back to what I have done for much of my career -- calling on big companies managing large sales and big contracts ( multi-millions). It will be new widgets and products for me, but close to the products I have sold for almost 25 years. I also hope I have found my last job: a place to work until I retire or die.

Things will change. A lot. I last worked in the same building as my boss in 1993. I last worked in an office-type environment in 1997 (when I worked out of the manufacturing plant). Since then I have worked alone in a rented office or from home. I will now go to a real office and work along with real people, including my boss. That means shoes. That means no more shorts and T-shirts. That means a shower before noon. That means real office hours, not lunch when I want it. It means a commute of more than down the hallway. That sadly also means I won't  be interrupted by my granddaughter coming in my office to visit her "Paw". That means the morning blogging break will be hard to manage.

We will see how things shake out going forward. I don't start for a week or so. But don't be surprised if posting becomes a little less than every day.

So today I will sign my job offer and then go to a funeral. How is that for a dichotomy? Life is strange.

What is all about, Alfie?

For the more than thirteen years I have been writing here I have tried to come to terms on what this blog is about. It isn't a political blog, although we discuss politics.  It isn't a humor blog, though I think I am occasionally amusing. It isn't a hobby blog. I guess it is just a slice of life blog, or at least the sliver of my life I choose to share nearly every morning.

I write about politics or the events that affect me at a given moment in time. I guess it is a near-anonymous journal where I leave out most of the personal details that are interesting, salacious, embarrassing, and trite.

A few weeks after I started this blog my grandmother passed away. I chronicled my kids as they graduated high school and college. My mother-in-law died after a long bout with cancer. I had grandchildren born. My mother died. My grandson died. We played sports, watched movies. I argued with idiots in the comments. I had some great discussions too. We have learned a little bit in our regular  communications. I have started and lost jobs. We have moved houses and even cities of residence. I have chronicled vacations and business trips. In short, I have offered a peep show through a tiny fish eye lens set into the steel door of my real life.

I guess that is what this place is about: Life. It took me almost a decade and a half to figure it out.

I guess I am a bit dense at times. On the other hand, I don't suppose it matters to you a whit.

Thank you for all of your thoughts and prayers. We are all doing fine. The funeral is tomorrow. It will be tough, but I have had a while to prepare.

I have a canned joke ready for Saturday. Normal nonsense may resume Sunday, unless I need to blow off steam in the interim.

Tears on my pillow

Posting has been light. It will continue to be that way for a few days.

My momma passed away early yesterday morning. She had surgery a few months ago and never completely recovered. She was back in the hospital the past couple of weeks. On Wednesday they sent her home with hospice care. She lost her fight in the early morning hours yesterday.

She hated being in the hospital with a passion. I'm glad she spent her last days at home even though it was hard on the family, especially my dad.

It has been a most crappy year. Next month will mark the one year anniversary of the death of my grandson.

I'm not special. We all lose our parents. I'm lucky to have both of mine so long. Mom was 78. If you are a praying person ask for comfort for my Dad, please. He is lost after losing his wife and companion of more than 61 years.

If you won the big lottery or if you just have some extra cash, send it to your local hospice organization. They really do the Lord's work in the most trying of times. It takes a special group of people to attend the last days of patients and their families.

Scatter

If we ever get into another war with Mexico I am sure the US would win. The strategy that leads  to victory is clear. When confronted with the Mexican Army, our troops should just scatter, run through the enemy lines, and reform. The Mexicans will just give up, say "We tried" and head home for some delicious enchiladas and a cold Tecate. I bet the Demons of Camaron wish they had tried that instead of fighting to virtually the last man.

There is no reason to study Clausewitz. Sun Tsu is for chumps. Clearly the only training one needs to make it through Mexico is an afternoon viewing of the cult classic The Warriors.

Who knew I was a military genius back in my youth. In those days a bunch of neighborhood boys would ban together to do Halloween mischief. When a porch light would click on we would shout "run" and scatter through the neighborhood. Old Man Vice couldn't catch us. I just never knew he was heading up border enforcement for Mexico as his day job.

I just hope when the band of criminals arrives at our border brandishing their flag, we treat them like the invading army they are. I hate to think the US Army or Border Patrol can be defeated by the Cockroach Theory of Attack.

#MeNeither

Amy Schumer has announced with great fanfare she will not be in any Superbowl ads this year.  Guess what? I will not appear in any of those ads either. She claims her absence is in support of Colin Kaepernick. I suspect the real reason you will not see her in ads is the same as the reason you won't see me shilling goods -- no one hired her. The last time she was in a Superbowl ad was 2016. I guess she must have been protesting something else that past couple of years?

Maybe she is just an attention whore. She isn't funny, her acting is wooden. Her recent movies have bombed at the box office. Her political stance has alienated half the country. Who wants to hire that shrew to promote your products? 

So in the spirit of the times, I join with the talentless d-list celebrity Amy Schumer. I will not be in any Superbowl ads. I also will not accept any Oscars, Tony Awards, or Grammys. I will not make vast audiences laugh. I will not because I am a no-talent schlub. That's pretty much why she will not do those things either. 

I just admit the real reason and it ain't some noble cause.

Join with me and Amy. Refuse to be in a Superbowl ad.  Just say #MeNeither.

Unless someone actually hires you. then go ahead.

Weekend Funny Encore edition

A wife went to the police station with her next-door neighbor to report that her husband was missing.

The policeman asked for a description.

She said, “He’s 35 years old, 6 foot 4, has dark eyes, dark wavy hair, an athletic build, weighs 185 pounds, is soft-spoken, and is good to the children.”

The next-door neighbor immediately saw a problem with this, and began to protest:

“Your husband is 5 foot 4, chubby, bald, has a big mouth, and is mean to your children.”

The wife replied, “Yes, but who wants HIM back?”

We don't need no stinkin' badges

A DEA officer stops at a ranch in Texas, and talks with an old rancher. He tells the rancher, “I need to inspect your ranch for illegally grown drugs.” The rancher says, “Okay, but do not go in that field over there,” as he points out the location.

The DEA officer verbally explodes saying, “Mister, I have the authority of the Federal Government with me.” Reaching into his rear pants pocket, he removes his badge and proudly displays it to the rancher. “See this badge? This badge means I am allowed to go wherever I wish… On any land… No questions asked or answers given. Have I made myself clear?” The rancher nods politely, apologizes, and goes about his chores.

A short time later, the old rancher hears loud screams and sees the DEA officer running for his life chased by the rancher’s big bull. With every step, the bull is gaining ground on the officer, and it seems likely that he’ll get gored before he reaches safety. The officer is clearly terrified.

The rancher throws down his tools, runs to the fence and yells at the top of his lungs: “Your badge! Show him your badge!!”

Live blogging the overnight

Present and accounted for. I'm up. Not willingly. Every time I lay down I hack and cough. What joy! I am ensconced in the recliner in my office. I am fine up to the point where I doze off,  then it is hacking up a lung. Music is quietly playing on my Alexa and I am pecking this out. I have no doubt typos will abound (even more than usual) since I am working sans glasses. 

I can see reasonably well without them. I probably  could have passed my vision test when I renewed my license last March, but for my severe astigmatism. After so long I am used to them, I suppose. I thank the good Lord every day for my restored vision. 

It seems like I get this cold that settles into my chest every fall. I have fought off pneumonia a couple of times over the years. I think I get more susceptible. The severe allergies that left me a perpetual snot-nosed kid have mostly faded except in the fall when the leaves turn, mold forms, and the farmers are in the fields. I have travelled in farm country a lot this week. Allergies coupled with the cold passed on from my wife and granddaughter I am not surprised to find me a little sick. 

I am sporting an awesome deep voice, so there is that. Well, up to the point it goes away completely from hacking and coughing.

I going to try and grab some sleep. Goodnight.

The post has been done for ten minutes, it is inspiration for a title that I need now

Wow, Thursday already.

It remains seasonably cool here at the old homestead. Sub-freezing temps greeted me when I checked my phone while the Keurig peed coffee into my mug.

If you haven't figured it out over the past two decades, I lead with a weather report when I am struggling for content. Weather and sports are old and trite and yet still effective conversation starters. Why you would care about my weather conditions remains an unanswered question.

No, it doesn't, upon reflection. You decidedly do not care. I don't really care about your weather, unless you are in a place I am going. I may break down and buy a couple of lottery tix this week. Then I will care about the weather --in tropical island locations.

I would quit work should I win a lottery. I won't quit blogging, at least right away. I am just childish enough to rub your faces in it. Then I will quit blogging. I will be too busy sipping rum drinks in some place with palm trees to bother with it. I wonder what it costs to develop my own personal cigar blend...?

For now I will complain about the weather and get to work. That is a far more realistic reality. The Masters of the Matrix have no incentive to reward me with untold fortune. I would probably lose my money investing in Nigerian Bonds or something anyway.

The cure for the blues

The granddaughter came in this morning, her normal ebullient self. She is the happiest little girl. She said " We had a great day yesterday. Can we have the same day?".

I could only mutter a near-silent "I hope not". Ah, that girl makes me smile anyway. She is the remedy for all that ailes you.

A most disappointing turn of events

The day started off with promise. Since then it has slowly turned to shit.

Consider your attention grabbed

I'm a mouth breather from way back. I was the very definition of "snot nosed kid". Allergies left me perpetually with stuffed sinus cavities. The only way to breath as a kid was through my mouth. Fortunately, the allergies have abated over the years. I learned to breath through my nose. Except at night. Then I must fall into old habits. Pokes in the ribs occasionally inform me I am  snoring.  In recent days I have woken to a sore throat. The big question is it an on-coming cold or just a result of very dry air and open-mouth breathing? Hypochondriac me says I am on the brink of.a cold so bad normal humans would beg for a hospital admission. After all, the wife spent the end of last week with a cold. My head says I'm fine, it is just the lack of humidity. Time will tell.

It is a chilly 33 outside this morning. Brr. OK,  I wouldn't know. I'm inside where it is a semi-comfortable 68. But I bet if was outside sans shoes and coat I would be cold.

Look, do you want a blog post or not?

I could bore you with the minutiae that is my life. Aside, yes there are things even more boring than the opening paragraphs. I don't think I will do that to you. Instead I hope you have a great day. Rest assured I will be back if real inspiration strikes. It would be best if you check back often. 

Ironing out the irony

After reading the comments from Hillary, Holder, and leading Democrats, it appears the new Democrat Party strategy is that unless we stop calling them a mob they are going to riot in the streets and attack those with whom they disagree whenever and wherever they find us.

Weekend Not So Funny

Yesterday's post reminds me of a true story. Back in the Jurassic Era I worked in a plastics factory. We molded stuff (duh). One of the workers was a hard working mold tech. He was tapped for promotion to a line leader position. This necessitated a move to an off shift. His wife worked at the plant too, so they didn't get to see each other much.

One night Ken was not feeling well so he went home early.

You know where this headed, right?

Sure enough, he caught his wife in bed with his old boss; the one who promoted him to second shift.

Funny enough, Ken was blonde. Not so funny was he punched his old boss in the nose and ended up divorced. Ken found a new job at the factory across the highway.

Sometimes I miss the soap opera that is the factory floor.

Not really.

In the shuffling madness

That post just below? It is canned: steam-packed to appear fresh for weeks, months, and even years. On the other hand, in a few days when blonde jokes become the next hashtag evidence of patriarchy, hate, cruelty and oppression, it will be further evidence of my unfitness to exist since I am an old white guy. No doubt legions of SJWs will be hounding me while wearing blond wigs and shouting "me too also".

This post? Fresh as that steaming pile of dog poop the neighbor's mutt left in your front yard.

Fall arrived with a vengeance in these parts yesterday. Wednesday it was a balmy eighty-something. We had sleet yesterday. The temperature in the house had dropped to 63 by bedtime last night. Since the weather lady told us it will not break 60 for a week or more the wife insisted I turn on the heat. Sigh. No break on utility bills this fall. It is straight from A/C to heat. A week ago it was 90!

I decided to take a break from POBs Master and Commander series. Volume 17 is on the coffee table ready to be re-read. Instead I picked up my Kindle for the first time in months and started a Bernard Cornwell novel about Shakespeare. It started a bit slow but is getting better. Like most of his books, it is eminently readable and will be a quick read. I will then head back to The Commodore, or I may crack Jeff Shaara's tome on the Korean War -- The Frozen Hours.

In the meantime, I have stuff to do outside later today. I need to empty out the little fountain, put away the chair cushions, and finish a little fall yard work.

Do not fret, I have a bunch of old jokes sealed up in electronic Ball Jars ready to be cracked open every Saturday for weeks to come. I am sure I can find something to offend just about everyone of you who desperately seek to be angry and offended at every turn. The rest of you I hope have a great Saturday.

weekend funny

Three girls worked in the same office for the same female boss. Each day, they noticed the boss left work early. The girls decided that the next day, when the boss left, they would leave right behind her. After all, she never called or came back to work, so how would she know they went home early?

The brunette was thrilled to be home early. She did a little gardening, spent playtime with her son, and went to bed early. The redhead was elated to be able to get in a quick workout before going on a dinner date. The blonde was happy to get home early and surprise her husband, but when she got to her bedroom, she heard a muffled noise from inside. Slowly and quietly, she cracked open the door and was mortified to see her husband in bed with her boss! Gently, she closed the door and crept out of her house.

The next day, at their coffee break, the brunette and redhead planned to leave early again, and they asked the blonde if she was going to go with them. “No way,” the blonde exclaimed. “I almost got caught yesterday!”

'Cause you asked for it

Friday Music, the feature that will not die.

I like it. One of my thirteen readers likes the feature.  Since we strictly follow Roberts Rules of Order here, abstentions go with the majority. I guess that means you all vote for more -- absent evidence to the contrary.

The Nutmeg of Clarissa Oakes

Up early today. So it goes. Sinatra is crooning softly in the background. My trusty and ever-listening Alexa just told me it is fifty-something outside. It was in the seventies when I went to bed some five hours ago.

I had a dream my wife was pregnant. She informed me of the news while we were on a camping trip, so I know it was all a dream, not a premonition. That and it is impossible for her to be preggers. Her important parts are gone, and I'm pretty sure we have to actually, you know, slap our boy and girl parts together. Besides, she loathes camping. She went camping with me once in about 1986 and declared never no more ever and ever and don't even ask. Therefore any idea that she went camping and delivered the "Guess what, Honey?" news is purely the stuff of imagination.

It was not that I did not make camping comfortable (as comfortable as tent camping can be --  a camper is not camping). I am an Eagle Scout of the old school type where camping and hiking was part of the scouting curriculum -- year round. I know how to make camping easy and fun. She hated all of it, starting with the tent itself. No matter how many times I explained that no crazed killer was going to drive out to the middle of nowhere to find our campsite when so many victims were readily available in cities and towns, she couldn't get past it. The blood-stained hook we found on the door handle of my truck the next morning probably did not help.

I made that last part up.

Anyway, here I am chatting electronically with you. I could be reading. I'm a little bogged down in the Aubry/Maturin Series right now. I have been through the entire series three or four times in the past 20 years. These same installments drag for me every time; the part where the lads are on the long voyage through Java, Indonesia, Australia, a made-up Pacific Island and Peru. The never-ending year of 1812. The events fill three or four books and frankly I think O'Brian ran out of material and was just writing books because they sold rather well. A lot of nothing happens. I mean one can only read page after page about reefing the topsails so many times.

Kind of like this blog.

My wife endorses this joke

A woman was walking down the street when she was accosted by a homeless woman who asked her for a couple of dollars for dinner. The woman took out her wallet, extracted ten dollars and asked, “If I give you this money, will you buy some wine with it instead of dinner?” “No, I had to stop drinking years ago”, the homeless woman replied. “Will you use it to go shopping instead of buying food?” the woman asked. “No, I don’t waste time shopping,” the homeless woman said. “I need to spend all my time trying to stay alive.” “Will you spend this on a beauty salon instead of food?” the woman asked. “Are you NUTS!” replied the homeless woman. “I haven’t had my hair done in 20 years!”

“Well,” said the woman, “I’m not going to give you the money. Instead, I’m going to take you out for dinner with my hubby and myself tonight.” The homeless woman was astounded. “Won’t your husband be furious with you for doing that? I know I’m dirty, and I probably smell pretty disgusting.” The woman replied, “That’s okay. It’s important for him to see what happens to a woman who had to give up shopping, hair appointments and wine.”

I'm jonesing for some pecan pie

Humpity Humpity Hump Day is upon us. It is a transition day in more than one sense. We have enjoyed August-like weather for a while now. The upper 80s will give way to more seasonable, in fact cooler than seasonal temperatures starting tomorrow. We will go from pushing 90 to near-freezing almost over night. Shorts to jeans and a jacket. But we won't have to deal with real weather like hurricanes, so I ain't complaining. Much.

A spate of cold weather will make the wife's pumpkins and gourds on the porch look a little more seasonal. It will maybe kick-start the leaves into turning. The Bradford Pears didn't drop their leaves until December last year. It is not that I want to rake leaves at all, but let's get it done with. 

Oh, and regarding the title, it is PEE cawn not pee CAN. 

Et Tu, Cleveland?

Fall Break is a thing. Just like spring break only...duh...it is in the fall. That means no granddaughter today.

Just to clarify, I am not on fall break. I gotta work. And when I'm not doing the paying boss' stuff, I need to do THE BOSS' stuff, like mow the yard, get things from the attic, and be an all-around sexual satyr. OK, I made that last one up.

The wife bought me a new grill over the weekend. My old one has been unusable all summer. The bottom rusted away completely last winter and the burners were rusted away as well. This time we went to a better model that did not seem like it was constructed from Chinese aluminum foil deemed too crappy to sell at the Dollar Store.

You get what you pay for. The unwritten corollary is that sometimes in life you pay for what you can get. We bought that crappy grill because it was what we could afford at the time. Now I have a box of parts sitting in the garage waiting on me to turn them into a metal box for cooking steak, chicken, and burgers.

Say, Grandpa, what's for dinner?

The boy's car keeled over on the highway at rush hour yesterday evening. He was sitting at a stoplight and the car died and won't start. It will not even turn over. We called a tow truck: $55 to have it towed less than 1/2 mile to the Kia dealer. The car is under warranty for big stuff. I hope it is nothing expensive if it isn't covered. Neither of us has the cash for auto repairs.

It is always something.

Ocean blue and all of that stuff

It is Columbus Day, celebrating the man who lead the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria ships into the Caribbean Islands more than 500 years ago. Bankrolled by Spanish Royalty, Columbus was searching for the Far East. Instead, his little vessels became the first of many cruise ships to dock at Nassau.

Sure, Columbus wasn't the first to run his ship into the Americas. After all, there were people already living here. The Norse and maybe the Welsh likely were visitors long before Columbus, but he had a better press agent. You know how it is; you discover a beautiful little place to vacation and the next time you go back there is a paved parking lot, admission fees, and that asshole Jimmie has carved his name into one of the trees.

Some people refuse to celebrate Columbus Day, instead calling the demi-holiday Indigenous People's Day, a mouthful of syllables that indicates we should honor the natives instead of the Dead White Guy who brought disease, death, and other white people to North and South America. OK. I'm good with that. Let's not take things too far. Indigenous People, Ohio just doesn't roll off the tongue.

I think the mailman has the day off. I do too, because I want to. Does that mean you get a bevy of postulations, opinion, humor, and pithy commentary today? As Big Jake said, "Not Hardly".

If time was in a bottle, yesterday's would just be filled with air.

Holy Crap, it is Sunday already. How did that happen? Where did my Saturday go?

Let's see, the granddaughter spent the night Friday, but she went home pretty early. I surfed the interwebz, watched some TV, read a bit. I trailed along with the wife to a small festival up in Noblesville. We were only there about an hour or so; long enough to score some kettle corn. She brought me home while she went shopping. Then I ...or maybe I...perhaps I took a nap? Insert shoulder shrugging motion. I dunno. She came back to get me and we went to dinner. I had a cheeseburger, I do know that. I opted for fresh fruit instead of fries.

And here we are, deep into a post as boring as the weekend so far. but you have been updated.

Regarding the politics of the day, I was surprised to hear my wife opine strongly on the Kavenaugh thing several times in the past week. She said the whole thing left her angry enough to vote in the midterms, and she usually doesn't bother. She made it clear her vote was directly because of the Kavenaugh fiasco.

Yes, she is heading to the polls to vote against Joe Donnelly, our Democrat Senator who cast his vote along party lines. As she put it, "I don't want some unsubstantiated attack from 35 years ago to ruin my boys lives." those are her words, not mine. This from one of he most apolitical (unpolitical?) persons in the world.

Anecdote is not data, but I find it interesting.

Saturday Humor

A renowned psychologist was conducting a group therapy session with four young mothers and their little children.

After a few hours of talking and analyzing their words and behavior, he said: “I believe that you all suffer from some obsession.”

He turned to the first mother and said, “You obviously have an obsession with food. You’ve even named your daughter Candy.”

He turned to the second Mom. “Your obsession is money. And it manifests itself in your child’s name, Penny,”

He turned to the third Mom. “Your obsession is alcohol. Again, it manifests itself in your child’s name, Brandy.”

At this point, the fourth mother got up, took her little boy by the hand and whispered, “Come on, Dick, let’s go”.

Dear Joe

What were you thinking? You are smarter than that.

I know you love the Cubs. Your closet full of T-shirts and Jerseys, your collection of hats, shows it to the world. Sure, Tuesday's game was important. It went into extra innings and you had to watch it all. As the clock ticked past midnight you should have gone to bed and checked the score in the morning. Staying up until 1:00 was a bad decision on many levels.

You had to get up at 5:00 AM to drive to Chicago. Add up the hours of sleep -- that would be one, two, three, four. That is just the same amount of time it takes to drive to the NW 'burbs. You had a day of important meetings. You had to drive home. So, 8+ hours of driving and 6 hours of meetings makes for a 14 hour day on four hours of sleep.

Joe, you are a moron.

No animals were harmed in telling this joke

A man walked into the bar and saw an old friend of his, drinking by himself.

Approaching his friend, he commented, “You look awful. What’s wrong?”

“My mother died in May and left me $15,000,” the friend answered.

“Boy, that’s tough,” the man replied.

Continuing, the friend said, “Then in June, my dad died leaving me $50,000.

“Gosh, both parents gone in such a short period of time? No wonder you’re depressed,” said the man.

“Last month my aunt died and left me $10,000,” the friend added.

“That’s a lot to deal with. Losing three close family members in three months, is terrible!” replied the man.

“Then this month,” continued the friend, “nothing! Not even a single dime!”

And another thing

put down your phone and drive

Murder, Inc.

The Chicago Cubs are going to be the death of me.

Lines form on my face and hands

Today is my son's birthday. No, that is neither a repeat nor a mistake. My boys' birthdays are a day apart. Today marks my oldest son's thirtieth birthday. Unfortunately, he lives in Colorado so we won't get to celebrate with him.

In other news..I have nothing to report. The Cubs and Brewers play later today to determine who is the Divisional Winner and who will be the Wild Card entry in the playoffs.

Have a great Monday

More:

I have said all I intend to on the politics of the day. A few weeks ago I discussed the rancor that is prevalent in today's culture and then went and helped perpetuate it.

Nothing has happened to change my opinion. There is no need to hammer it every day.

I have always maintained that reasonable people can disagree. The sole caveat is that both parties must be reasonable.

We all get to choose which side we think is being unreasonable.