The year comes to a close. I have great hopes for the next one.
If you go out tonight, don’t drink and drive.
So long ‘21. This is my last post this year. It marks 309 this year. Take that 2019, you slacker of a year.
If you go out tonight, don’t drink and drive.
So long ‘21. This is my last post this year. It marks 309 this year. Take that 2019, you slacker of a year.
Here we are, December 30th. Time for the annual year-end retrospective. (Aside, in my head this paragraph sounds like Howard Cosell is reading it. I don’t know why)
Nope. Things happened. They did to you too. I will leave the analysis to someone for more talented and wise than am I.
It remains semi-unseasonably warm but cloudy here at the homestead. I can live with temperatures in the forties in January.
So far we have no big New Years Eve plans. Our normal New Year couple is not an option. He died. She will hang with her family. Our other good friends are in sunny climes enjoying a mini-vacation this week. I guess we will grab some dinner and maybe a movie. Life is sure boring when you are old. Could you imagine me and the wife out at a club grooving to hip hop or whatever they listen to these days? We are many decades removed from the big holiday bashes at the Holidome in Lebanon, replete with live bands and plenty of booze. *
We need to make more friends. Too bad one of us is anti-social and the other is one of the sweetest women you will ever meet.
That is tomorrow’s worry. Today I have important stuff to do like…or maybe…
Have a great day.
*of course that reference has no meaning to any of you.
We’re eight months into this pandemic,” Biden said weeks before the presidential election, “and Donald Trump still doesn’t have a plan to get this virus under control, I do.”
Brandon Joe, it has been almost a year. Do you think it is time to reveal your grand COVID plan?
Christmas is now in the rear view mirror. What a good one it was. The wife went way overboard, as usual. I think she even realized it this year when the gifts for the grandgirls barely fit in the Escape, even with the seats down. I will through in a caveat, a couple of the presents were in very large boxes, and neither cost a lot. But still.
We went to my daughter’s for dinner. She fixed an incredible beef tenderloin. After we ate we opened presents. It was a great day to celebrate the birth of Christ. I got a T-shirt that reads “bookmarks are for quitters”.
The wife gave me some new ear buds and a nice leather travel case for cigars I have coveted for some time. I gave her a new bracelet and a red and white mixing bowl for her stand mixer.
I hope your Christmas was as great as mine. If it wasn’t, look at the bright side. I won’t post any more Christmas music until next year.
Christmas in my hometown
On a tour of the facilities, the CEO notices a guy leaning on a wall.
He can’t believe this guy would just stand around on the job.
The new CEO walks up to the guy leaning against the wall and asks, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m just waiting to get paid,” responds the man.
Furious, the CEO asks “How much money do you make a week?”
A little surprised, the young fellow replies, “I make about $300 a week. Why?”
The CEO quickly gets out his checkbook, hands the guy a check made out to cash for $1,200 and says, “Here’s four weeks’ pay, now get out and don’t come back.”
The man puts the check in his pocket and promptly walks out.
Feeling pretty good about himself, the CEO looks around the room and asks, “Does anyone want to tell me what just happened here?”
From across the room comes a voice, “Yeah, you just tipped the pizza delivery guy $1,200.”
Kinda like that, I’m gonna need a bigger desk. My new work computer gear arrived yesterday: laptop, docking station, and two monitors. It is never going to fit on my cheap old WalMart desk. Further, a bigger desk isn’t going to fit in the corner my current one occupies. It looks like a complete changeover is needed for my office. My trusty, well used recliner may have to go.
I’m going to need my old work truck back to get rid of some of this furniture. You think my old employer would go for that?
The price of change.
The wife is headed over to bake cookies and make candy with our daughter and her girls today. Great fun, and probably a great mess, will be had. The wife will have to hide a couple of cookies for me because otherwise the girls will douse everything in sprinkles. I don’t do sprinkles because they are nothing more than candy-coated mouse turds. Plus, who wants crunchies on an iced sugar cookie? Not me and not you, unless you want to be wrong.
I may, if things dry out, make an effort to rake or mow the thick layer of leaves that still cover the backyard. There are a lot of them. The great disadvantage of a privacy fence is that stuff can’t blow away. We shall see. It is not like I can claim I need to watch football. My team played last night. I do think I will wrap up the wife’s Christmas presents while she is gone. She will notice them right away under the tree. Hers all look like they were done by a professional. Mine will look like a four year-old’s holiday art project. I flunked scissors and tape back at Samuel Kyger P. Elementary.
This post is like a SNL skit. I don’t have an ending. Nor a point.
Have a great Sunday.
The Waltz by Anders Zorn is in the Biltmore House. I dig this painting.
Of course I’ve said before if I went back in time it would be the gilded age.
But only if I was wealthy. It sucked for poor people.
From 1993 to 2014 I sold widgets to large OEMs (Original Equipment Manufacturers). My customers were big companies you have heard of in the industrial, agricultural, automotive, and commercial vehicle industries. I worked for salary, not commission. In 2014 my territory was more than $35 million dollars. I loved my job.
The company I worked for was sold and I found myself out of work. Since then, I have had several jobs and even more bad luck. Each succeeding position a was little less responsibility and a lot less money than the one I had before, until I thought I would never get a sales job again after the last layoff.
In September, a good company offered me a job, back on the road, selling aftermarket parts for a low salary and a lot of commission. I am more grateful for that job than you can imagine. Today is my last day there. I offered to stay to the end of the year. They weren’t interested.
I start a new job with the New Year. I will be calling on very large OEMs selling widgets. My territory will be more than $20 million dollars. I will travel around the US and have some international travel. I am more excited than you can imagine. For seven years I’ve been looking for this job. I finally found it!
A lot of this year has been lousy. The last quarter has been pretty good.
I am truly blessed.
Today marks the eldest granddaughter’s seventh birthday. How time flies! It seems but yesterday I was bragging on her birth in these pages.
In other news, nothing! Well I have news, but I’m not at liberty to divulge yet.
That is not true. I could tell you, but I won’t. Not yet anyway. Maybe tomorrow. Keep checking. Feel free to speculate.
No, I’m not having a baby. I’m not having a sex change. I’m not running for political office.
My wife was dying. I was by her bedside. She said in a tired voice, “There’s something I must confess.”
“Shhh” I said, “there’s nothing to confess. Everything is alright.”
“No I must die in peace. I never really loved you and I had sex with your brother, your best friend, his best friend and your father!”
I took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes and whispered, “I know, that’s why I poisoned you, now close your eyes and die already!!”
I can still hear it from my youth, straight from my Dad’s giant console turntable.
One of my favorites
I really do not understand the world I live in. The news had a story last night about some safe injection sites the have opened in New York City. Officials were bragging that drug users could come there and shoot up in a safe space using needles provided by the city.
One “patron” (read addict) said it was great, he could shoot up with a fresh needle and have no fear of over-dosing since medical help was on hand!
Somehow, the official in charge said this program would eliminate illegal drug use. Yup, and free wine will cure alcoholism and defunding police will eliminate crime.
In a world where I’m told that sex is an artificial construct and that we should elect a female President in the same breath, I’m not surprised by any of this. Confused, sure.
My visits in southern Indiana finished earlier than expected yesterday, so I decided to take the long way home. I headed east from Evansville right past a customer in Booneville I visited on my way south Monday, and then on into rural, hilly Hoosierdom.
Anyone who has read here for any amount of time knows I dig historical sites. Lincoln’s boyhood home was my destination (I said an audible hola to reader Hey Teacher as I cruised the general area). The country was heavily wooded and the National Site was pretty much empty on this chilly December morning.
I have to admit, I’ve grown skeptical in my old age. Maybe this was the site of the Lincoln cabin. I will not dispute it. Maybe that is the burial site of his mother. It is acknowledged her grave was unmarked until long after Old Abe met his fate in Ford’s Theater. In any case, you get a sense of how small pioneer cabins were in the old Northwest Territory of the early 1800s.the Lincoln cabin was maybe 12x12.
Mostly, I will state that of all the many historical sites, battlefields, homes, and parks I have visited in my life, I would rank this one pretty much last. Maybe if you are staying in Santa Claus and hanging out after a day or two at Holiday World amusement park you could drive over and force the kids to absorb a little history. Not if you have to drive more than twenty minutes out of your way, though.
|Bronzed mudsill and fireplace of Lincoln cabin|
|Abe’s Mother’s grave 100 yards or so from the cabin|
A woman walked up to a little old man rocking in a chair on his porch.
“I couldn’t help noticing how happy you look,” she said.
“What’s your secret for a long happy life?”
“I smoke three packs of cigarettes a day,” he said.
“I also drink a case of whiskey a week, eat fatty foods, and never exercise.”
“That’s amazing,” the woman said. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-six!” he said.
I stayed at this Hampton Inn last month and found the breakfast offering a bit inadequate. It was this morning too. I will survive. I’m now in the toe of Indiana’s boot doing my job this morning before heading home. The big question is do I take a scenic route or head straight up the interstate? These are the decisions that weigh on my mind this morning.
Many, many years ago I stayed in a hotel and when I came out in the winter morning the employees had scraped my windows, and everyone else’s in the parking lot. That is service. I’m not sure why I just remembered that. I guess because I wish someone would go scrape my truck windows this morning. I wish I could remember where the great customer service happened? Maybe it was a HoJo in or near Franklin, PA? It doesn’t really matter.
For you young readers, Howard Johnson was an iconic restaurant and hotel chain back in the day. I think they are all gone now.
I’m off to do my Willie Loman thing. Have a great Hump Day.
I find myself once again in Western Kentucky on the far side of both big lakes. I saw a couple of customers on the way before holing up in my hotel for the night. I will venture out for some dinner later.
I went to the foot doctor this morning prior to hitting the road. There is not much change. The break is still not completely healed. Short of another surgery there is not much to be done. I am going to have to live with the mild pain. He said given my slow healing and the way I walk on the outside of my foot there is no guarantee another surgery will heal either. The real question is can I live with it, the pain and occasional limping, or not? We will re-examine things in three months.
I broke the foot in April. Got a boot in May. Had surgery in July. Was completely off the foot in a boot and on crutches until September. My foot still hurts akin to a cramp in the arch of my foot. Sigh. I know, there are a great many people far worse off than I am. Here I go complaining about a little ache in my foot.
I have been re-reading Arthur Haley’s “Hotel”. A book I last read in about 1974 or 1975 maybe. I don’t remember all of the details, but as I read along I remember what is about to happen in the plot right before I get to that point. It is strange. For instance when they go to a guest’s room I know generally what is going to happen, just not the details of the scene. In my memory’s defense, the mid-seventies were a very long time ago, and I was just a kid. I probably had no business reading the novel anyway.
I usually stayed up most of the night reading and would grab whatever book Mom was reading and go through it. She probably wouldn’t have been pleased to know her 10 or 12 year old was reading novels written for adults.
Boy, I’m in a Chatty Cathy mood. That is enough of this nonsense today.
So the wife and I ventured out late Friday evening to grab a burger. We went to the chain Red Robin. It was around 8:00 or so. When we went in there were a few people sitting in the lobby. The hostess said it would be a 45 minute wait.
Let me diverge here. My wife is one of the nicest, sweetest people you could ever meet. She doesn’t ever say an unkind word. Yes, opposites do attract. She is never snarky. Sarcasm is lost on her.
Back to the lobby of Red Robin. The wife looks around and sees that at least 75% of the tables are empty. She said simply “There are a lot of empty tables”.
The hostess replied “Unfortunately, like a lot of places we are short on wait staff”. All was fine if she left it there. It is a common occurrence these days. Sometimes we wait it out, Friday we were both hungry.
The wife said nicely “OK we will go somewhere else”. No problem, just a business deal that didn’t happen. No one was angry. My belly was a bit disappointed, but that was a First World problem that I would not have a cheeseburger with a fried egg on top for dinner.
A I turned to leave the hostess said “Feel free to fill out an application for server if you don’t want to wait next time”. If life was a cartoon you would have heard screeching brakes from my shoes as I came to a stop. The wife pushed me out the door before I could respond. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe it was a frustration from turning away patrons. Maybe it was the smart ass comment it sounded.
What it really was, as the wife said to me as we walked to the car, a “guarantee we will never, ever go there again”. When you anger the wife, it is forever.
Yeah, yeah, there will be more music posted later as the Christmas juke box continues in an effort to get above 2019’s low post total of 302. Will I make it? Does anyone care? After all, it is only my white privilege that entitles me to author this blog anyway.
I’m up early again. Statement, not complaint. I’ll nap later, I presume. I am not sure what is on the agenda today. At some point later this morning the Social Director will let me know the day’s activities. Should it involve shopping I just might opt to rake the leaves again instead. Of course I was at work as temperatures hit near sixty the past couple of days. Now that it is the weekend, we are looking at the forties. So it goes, it is December after all.
Before I do yard work or whatever, I have some time to kill. It is a dark, foggy five aye-em after all. I have last week’s episode of Yellowstone queued up on the DVR. Then I may dig out some of my holiday classics. I haven’t watched Holiday Inn yet this year. On the other hand, I’ve been listening to some Sharpe audiobooks in the truck lately on my business travels, so I’m in a bit of a Napoleonic War mood. I might drag out my version of Waterloo on DVD.
We will just wait to see how it goes. I’m not sure I should watch either movie. The Bing Crosby classic that launched the tune White Christmas has a cringe-worthy blackface number in it. The historically accurate Waterloo is notably missing any people of color in the cast. For goodness sake both lead characters, Napoleon and the Duke of Wellington are portrayed by white men. Can you imagine? Even the bit players, the soldiers who die at la Haye Sainte or in the cavalry charges on the British squares are all white men. There are no POC actors, no women soldiers, not even a trans artilleryman. The movie should rightly just be banned altogether. Perhaps there is a trans person waltzing in an Empire dress at the party scene early in the movie, but I have missed it. Certainly that character would have been highlighted?
The problem is I don’t spend sufficient time looking to be outraged. Re-education and my diversity training probably need to be updated. Instead, I have been focusing on working hard trying to make a better life for my family.
It is Friday. It is a very, very good day. I’ll tell you why later.
No, it has nothing to do with nekkid wrestling. Unfortunately.
For now, I’m off to a machine run-off.
Enjoy your day.
Life is a mountain we all have to climb. Not all of us summit, yet endeavor we must. Some people have a smooth and easier path to the top. Some have a steep treacherous rocky trail. Life isn’t easy. But we all have an opportunity to reach success. Some just have to work harder than others. Life isn’t fair.
When people are told every day at home, at school, on TV, from our politicians, that they fail solely because of their skin color, that creates an attitude of why bother? It creates envy. It generates hatred for those that are further up the mountain.
It does everyone a disservice, it cheats them. It ensures they remain in the shadowed valley.
I find that sad.
Yesterday evening the daughter and her family swung by to pick us up to take us along for a drive-through Christmas light display. We stopped for some Shake Shack burgers on the way to eat in the car. The display wasn’t as good as the one we did last year at the State Fairgrounds, but we enjoyed it and the grandgirls had a ball.
After we got home we got out the ornaments and decorated the tree. I must confess, hanging the ornaments is not one of my favorite tasks, but I do enjoy looking at them and the nostalgia they stir. Starting as far back as the earliest Christmases, we have bought each other ornaments. In the past few decades that has evolved to the wife buying a new one or two every year. At this point the tree is crowded with well more than a hundred ornaments of every variety.
We still need to put the garland on the stairs and mantle. Then the wife will start placing her collections of snowmen and Santas, turning the house into a Christmas wonderland.
Most of the shopping is done, so that will soon be out of the way.
I’m sure I will get a few not-so-veiled hints that the leaves need raked again today. I will probably ignore the suggestion. In the meantime, my coffee is getting cold.
Have a great Sunday, meine freunde.
I do have plenty to be thankful for.
Thank you all for reading my drivel.
Now I have dinner to cook.
Get of the internet and watch a parade or something.
I ain’t happy about it. It cannot be helped. Here I am up at way too early. I have already done a couple hours of honest work. Quotes sent, orders entered. Now I turn my attention to the old blogeroo.
I still have to make a feeble attempt to entertain you, take a shower, and hit the road to Louisville for a couple of meetings this morning. The challenge will be staying awake on the drive home. If you see me weaving across lanes on I-65 northbound this afternoon give me a wide berth and cut me some slack.
The boss and I made a fruitful visit to the greater boot toe region of Hoosierdom yesterday. A new equipment order came out of it. More expensive capital equipment orders are likely to follow. That is a good thing when you are grubbing for commissions (spit). I hate working for a commission. I never understood why companies think a salesperson won’t work hard unless you pay him extra? We don’t put engineers, accountants, or HR people on commission do we? No, we expect them to do their dang job.
Sure, I probably missed out on some giant payouts when I worked most of my career as a salaried salesman*, but I like the regular paychecks.
Lest you think I complain too much (I do), I am more than grateful for my current job, low base pay plus commission. It is far, far better than the big box home improvement store or the short-lived lizard insurance gigs I toiled at for the past couple of years.
I’m off to get ready for my road warrior act. Have a great day.
*What is 1 or 2 percent of a $35 million dollar territory anyway? Yeah, now you know why I was on straight salary.
Just think, George Jetson is probably alive.
Flying cars and Rosie haven’t been invented yet.
Two Crocodiles were sitting at the side of the River. After a few hours just lying about, the smaller one turned to the bigger one and said, ‘I can’t understand how you can be so much bigger than me. We’re the same age, we were the same size as kids – I just don’t get it.’
‘Well,’ said the big Croc, ‘What have you been eating?’ ‘Well, mostly politicians that come here with their mistresses, same as you!’ replied the small Croc. ‘Hmm. Well, where do you catch them?’ ‘On the other side of the river near the car park.’
‘Same here. Hmm… Tell me your method. How do you catch them?’ asked the big Croc. ‘Well, I crawl up under one of their big Lexus, BMW or Mercedes cars and wait for one to unlock the car door. Then I jump out, grab them by the leg, shake the c*ap out of them and eat ’em!’
‘Ah!’ says the big Crocodile, ‘I think I see your problem. You’re not getting any real nourishment. See, by the time you finish shaking the c*ap out of a Politician, there’s nothing much left but an a**hole with a briefcase.’
A man and a woman were sitting beside each other in the first class section of an airplane. The woman sneezed, took out a tissue, wiped her nose, then visibly shuddered for ten to fifteen seconds.
The man went back to his reading. A few minutes later, the woman sneezed again, took a tissue, wiped her nose, and then shuddered violently once more.
Assuming that the woman might have a cold, the man was still curious about the shuddering. A few more minutes passed when the woman sneezed yet again.
As before she took a tissue, wiped her nose, her body shaking even more than before.
Unable to restrain his curiosity, the man turned to the woman and said, ‘I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve sneezed three times, wiped your nose and then shuddered violently. Are you OK?’
‘I am sorry if I disturbed you, I have a very rare medical condition; whenever I sneeze I have an orgasm. ‘
The man, more than a bit embarrassed, was still curious. ‘I have never heard of that condition before’ he said. ‘Are you taking anything for it?’
The woman nodded. ‘Pepper.’
I rear-ended a car this morning.
So, there we were alongside the road and slowly the other driver got out of his car.
You know how sometimes you just get so stressed that little things seem funny?
Yeah, well I couldn’t believe it – he was a dwarf!
He stormed over to my car, looked up at me, and shouted, ‘I AM NOT HAPPY!!!’
So, I looked down at him and said, ‘Well, then which one are you?’
I mentioned the other day my lowly blog output. We might as well collectively brace ourselves for a record low number of posts this year. You will be OK.
Taking off much of January and February contributed mightily. In review, I probably should have just retired my electronic pen. It is clear I am like that aging ball player that has tried to stick around long past his prime. Acknowledging in my case that my prime was in lowA ball or the Independent Leagues. Perhaps semi-pro even. Anyway, you get the point.
The “good” news for you is I do not have to hit the road until a little later this morning, so I have time to pen this nonsense.
Can anyone explain how Kyle Rittenhouse is a white supremecist racist when he shot white people?
Wasn’t Biden going to bring civility back to the White House? Why in the world is he attacking Sarah Palin, who hasn’t mattered in politics for a decade? Plus, he screwed up the joke.
Did you miss me? I just stepped away to plop some Doughboy cinnamon rolls in the oven.
Time to shower. Then eat a tasty hot roll from a tube.
Boy, this was worth reading. Eh wot?
There is a thin dusting of snow across the patio furniture, like a bit of powdered sugar sifted on a scone. The ground and sidewalks are just wet. It’s cold. I can feel the cold air seeping in through the windows as I sit here on the wife’s end of the couch. New windows at sorely needed but not in the cards any time in the near future. But the coffee is hot and the conversation satisfactory. I like the answers I get when I talk to myself.
I’m not sure what is on tap today. Ok, that is not true. I am going to watch some football. Before and after? Perhaps I will help do a little cleaning. The place could always use a little Lemon Pledge and a thorough vacuuming. I am more than capable of slinging a dust rag and wrangling a sweeper.
LA Woman was the last album released by The Doors collectively. Singer Jim Morrison died just after its release in April of 1971. Contrary to the Oliver Stone movie, bandmates and engineers on the album say Morrison was mostly sober and hard working on this, the band’s sixth studio album. Along with Love Her Madly, Riders on the Storm hit chart success. Based on the old country hit Ghost Riders in the Sky, the tune evokes disturbing imagery of a mass-murdering hitchhiker.
While I have always dug that tune, I think it is the title track and longest song on the album that deserves more attention. A love song to Los Angeles, the song has a solid blues beat and according to guitarist Robby Kreiger, is the quintessential Doors song. Have a listen:
The Doors are one of those bands people either love or hate. My wife cannot stand their music. Me, I really enjoy it. I don’t know where you stand.
Have a great Sunday.
I had a customer visit yesterday afternoon. I know, a Friday afternoon. I got home late, traffic was awful. The wife had something to return to the mall. An hour later we sat down to a quick burger.
After we came home, I finally plopped on the couch. I flipped through the channels and found a movie. I’d seen it before, but so what? I dozed off with ten minutes to go. The wife woke me and I ambled out to the kitchen to swallow a handful of prescribed meds.
As I paused to look outside at the foot of the stairs I noticed it was snowing. Hard. I knew it wouldn’t stick, but it brought joy to my face. Somehow the first snow always evokes memories of my youth.
More importantly, that snow pushed me into the Christmas spirit. I will likely drag out the decorations next weekend. Lights on the house, trees in the corners, snowmen throughout the home, and the place will be festive and bright. I won’t turn the lights on until Thanksgiving. I have standards.
That also means I’m going to start dropping Christmas music. I just know you cannot wait.
Have a great Saturday, blogging buddies.
I just realized what a lazy blogger I’ve become. Unless I get busy, I won’t even crack 300 posts this year. My lowest output ever was 302 back in’19. I’m a long way off from the 450-500 posts in the early days. I still have 17 readers, despite my output, be it high or low.
Thanks for that! In most cases it is the same 17 readers from the early days that read out of habit rather than interest.
I know this because I have not written anything interesting for a long time. My writer’s block is a six ton slab of granite.
But look! A post: make it 72 posts to go by year end.
Spend a moment thinking of those who fought for your freedoms.
We zipped down to the boy’s new house yesterday to help move a few last items too big for him to carry by himself. The house is small, but renovated in the past several years. His roommate seems nice. She has the place fixed up neatly.
The place is in the general Fountain Square area, and the neighborhood is poor, but the houses are taken care of; no junk cars in front yards, or boarded up windows.
We picked up a couple of things for the Granddaughters’ Christmas, came home and I fried up some breaded tenderloins. I made a pan of homemade mac and cheese and sliced up a few of the last tomatoes I picked from the garden before last week’s frost. A right feast by anyone’s standards. That is if you like comfort food.
I’m in the office the first half of the week. Day trips at the end.
There. You are caught up on the minutiae of my life. Riveting stuff, I wager.
221 days until real baseball starts.
I’m glad it is Saturday. It has been a long week. It looks like we will finally have a dry weekend and I can get some fall chores done. I need to mow and pull up frost-dead flowers and plants. Patio furniture needs to be stored for the winter. Most of that will have to wait until tomorrow. We have a wedding to attend up north in the early evening.
I have a Boston Butt in the freezer. I may try to smoke a little pork one last time Sunday while I’m working outside. Maybe. The boss will let me know. That’s how things work around here.
I know I won’t get everything done I want. I just remembered I promised the boy I would help him move the last of his furniture into his new house tomorrow. Yes, I forgot to mention he moved out last weekend. It was nice having him and his little dog around, but I am glad to get my office back.
I can’t believe we are but a couple of weeks from Thanksgiving.
Have a good weekend. I hope it is less busy than mine.
What say we end on some music. It’s not from ‘71, but it has been stuck in my head for some reason:
Man, I played the heck out of that Greatest Hits album back in the day. It was the soundtrack for Friday night parties when just-married us lived in an apartment across the hall from our best friends. Both our wives worked late on Friday evenings and my buddy and I would sit on the balcony, drinking beer, smoking cigars, and listening to Hank while waiting on the girls to get off work.
Funny, he is still my main drinking and smoking buddy to this day. We just do it a little more laid-back these days. Kind of like the song says, if I think on it.
It seems the Democrat response to losing the governor’s election in Virginia is to blame it on racism. Of course that is their response. Everything is racist. Except the last governor wearing blackface. Not that.
How is it that any of us who happen to disagree with leftist policy are painted as racist hooded-up KKKers straight out of the 1920’s? You would think it was the Republicans who starred in Birth of a Nation and fought against every single Civil Rights Act from the end of the Civil War into the 1960’s. That is what happens when you quit teaching history as history but instead as social studies.
BTW it was the Democrat party who founded and made up the KKK and fought against Civil Rights. It was a Republican President and administration that freed the slaves. It was a Republican President who sent in troops to force integration in the Little Rock schools. Bull Connor and George Wallace were Democrats.
Anyway racists whiteys and a whole bunch of people of color voted for Republicans. And if in this Alice in the Looking Glass world the far left lives in means not wanting your kids to be taught they are inferior or evil or guilty by association of crimes against humanity based on their skin color is wrong, then I guess we all know who really is racist.
I guess that whole judging people based on the content of their character is out of style now days.
Edit. I just realized four of my last eight posts have titles that start with the letter “W”. Is that an unrealized subconscious white supremacy symbol?
Yes, that is how idiotic things have become.
Here I am live from the boot toe of Indiana, about as far south as you can get without actually entering Kentucky. I may or may not do that tomorrow. We shall see if the day is as unfruitful as today was. At least it was sunny for my drive through the hinterlands of Hoosierdom.
I’m glad to see our betters climb into their private jets and limos so they could meet to lecture the rest of us on how we are poor stewards of the environment. You know what? Let me know when the Third World and places like China India cut their emissions 50%, then I’ll be glad to vote to destroy my standard of living, my way of life, and our economy in the name of the Green Religion. Until then I wish Biden and his ilk would just go away. And I especially mean that for the petulant teenager from Scandinavia. Your 15 is up Greta, you may exit stage left. Watch a movie. Read a book. Drink a beer. Just lighten up. No one likes you. No one wants to be scolded and lectured 24-7. I bet Greta couldn’t even phone a friend should she find herself on a game show.
Greta has become so overbearing, so tediously single-minded that even her family are starting to roll their eyes when she starts in. Thornburg, hah: more like thorn in the world’s butt. A real pain in the ass, if you know what I mean.
I think I will take a nap before I make the day’s big decision - where to eat dinner.
It is November first. I still have day lilies blooming in my backyard. How strange is that?
I had four plants leftover last year when we redid the front flower bed. They sat in their plastic store pots for weeks. Almost dead, I finally stuck them in the ground next to the patio out back. I watered them when I remembered. I was frankly shocked when they popped up this spring. Those hardy little guys have been pumping out a bloom or two per plant since early June.
Sub-freezing temperatures are forecast for later this week. Mother Nature will win over the flower’s best efforts, I’m afraid.
Those four little yellow day lilies are now my favorites.
Little Orphant Annie
The Democrats are talking about what they call “infrastructure” bills. Only one sorta deals with roads and bridges and such (it’s loaded with pork too). The other is no more than a socialist wish list - green energy, free money to some people, programs, and favors to lobbies. Bernie wanted to spend 6 trillion. The Progressive wing will settle for a tad over 3 trillion. Biden might compromise for 2 trillion.
Do those people grasp just how much money that is?
I wrote a post describing the mountains of debt that tried to put it into perspective. It was a decade ago, so some of the references are dated, but I hope it helps describe just how much money a trillion dollars is:
Biden administration in talks to give illegal immigrants separated from their families $450,000 PER PERSON.
OMG. Read here. Remove breakables from reach
Sorry. I’m trying hard not to swear, but this is beyond fucking ridiculous.
This is my X-ray from Monday morning
Kinda gruesome overall isn’t it. And yes, that is how big the screw in my foot is