Just one vote

 Benjamin Franklin Wade missed out being President of the US by one single vote. Al Gore has nothing to complain about. You see, in the years after the end of the Civil War there was major disagreement on how to bring the recalcitrant Rebel States back into the Union. Lincoln believed that since the States were not allowed to leave in the first place, then there was nothing to 'bring back". Hard-core Republicans like Wade thought the South should be punished.

Benjamin Franklin Wade was as partisan a Senator that ever walked the halls of the Capitol Building. He makes Kennedy and Reid look like mere pikers. Franklin Wade was an ass and hated all who did not agree with him. He rose to become President Pro Tempore of the Senate after Andrew Johnson took over the White House following Lincoln's death.

Johnson took a soft approach to reconstruction and the hard-line of the Republican Party thought he was falling back on his old Democratic Party leanings. They felt he should be impeached. Not for any crime, but because he not following the party line. The Radical Republicans thought impeachment should be like the term of office for the British Prime Minister -- when the President lost the support of Congress he should be let go. 

Congress passed a bill saying no appointees to a cabinet position could be fired by the President after they had been confirmed by Congress. Johnson fired Sec of War Seward and that was the excuse Congress needed to begin impeachment. Johnson thought the firing would be challenged in the court system and he would be supported by the Supreme Court, but Congress moved swiftly. The overwhelming majority of the House were Republicans and Articles of Impeachment were voted quickly.

The trial moved to the Senate where our good friend Mister Wade failed to excuse himself, even though he had everything to gain by Johnson's impeachment. There was no Vice President, so Wade was next in line should Johnson be impeached.

Just enough Republicans felt that a real crime should be committed before the President was booted and that using impeachment as a political tool would set a bad precedent. Most importantly, a vote against impeachment was a vote against Wade as President. One newspaper at the time wrote, "Andrew Johnson is innocent because Ben Wade is guilty of being his successor" [Trefousse, Hans L. Benjamin Franklin Wade: Radical Republican From Ohio. New York: Twayne Publishers Inc., 1963. p. 309.]The Senate failed to impeach Johnson by one single vote. Johnson remained in office, and Benjamin Franklin Wade missed out on being President.

This is a re-run of a post from February of 2009. 

I used to put effort onto this piece o’crap blog

A Little Night Dancin’

 Small town, long ago. 

High school social life revolved around football and basketball. After every home game a dance was held in the cafeteria. Usually it was guys playing records — real vinyl. Occasionally there was a band. In those halcyon days of the late seventies every town had bands that could make a living playing bars and dances. 

Teenagers boogied and swayed to the hits of the day. Bands played covers, DJs played what they had in their album collection. Inevitably the unmistakable opening bars of  Stairway to Heaven would draw couples to the darkened dance floor to sway in pseudo box step until Jimmie Page cut lose midway through the song. Then we just tried to figure out how to dance to the rock and roll. Lacking any sense of rhythm at all, I usually gave up and headed for the wall to stand with my buddies or huddle in whispers with my girlfriend. 

If it wasn’t Stairway, it was Freebird. Same problem, slow to fast mid tune. 

The BeeGees would intermix with Kansas or Toto as the music pulsed and the bass pounded making us forget it was just hours earlier when we sat before compartmentalized melamine trays eating meat loaf or fish sticks in that very room. 

In the parking lot muscle cars rumbled through glass packs in the mufflers as kids chugged Strohs or rolled weed for a quick high. Boston jammed and Styx and REO played rock in those pre-ballad days on loud car stereos. Boone’s Farm got many a date drunk.

Girls came to be seen. Boys came to look. We knew everyone. Six hundred students spread over four grades meant secrets were hard to keep. Teachers were old: probably thirty or so. Maybe younger. The really old ones wouldn’t chaperone on a dare. 

Most of us had part time jobs: farm, retail, fast food, gas pump jockeys. Friday nights were the times to party, to celebrate life, and display a little school spirit. I had a good time. 

I wouldn’t go back for any sum of money. I lived it and I have no doubt at all my memories are way better than what I actually experienced.

You can tell by the size of the gym the role of basketball  

Knowing me, Knowing you, uhh huh

It is strange that on weekdays I need the alarm to wake, yet on a weekend I wake up on my own, earlier than on a week day. It isn’t like I am excited for Saturday adventures. I pass most weekends doing nothing beyond reading or watching movies. I occasionally help out with chores. In the summer there is stuff. Now, it is still cold and blah outside. 

I have ABBA music stuck in my head this morning. I don’t know why. I don’t want it to be bouncing around in my cranium. 

Yesterday was a most productive day at work. I’m starting to understand what is going on. Well, a little, which means I have so much to learn. The big news is we wrapped negotiations with really Big Customer  and a new agreement is in place. That is very good. I will readily admit my boss did pretty much all of that, but like the Shake N Bake kids, I helped.

I ordered a new winter coat off the Big River in Brazil. I know, spring is a month or so away. My coat is at least ten years old and it is thin, really more of a medium weight coat. In the olden days I was always warm. I wore short sleeves all winter and it took sub-zero temps before I even zipped my coat. 

These days I am always cold. I wear a sweatshirt most days. I wear a fleece or sweatshirt under my coat when I go out. I just need a warmer winter coat. I just hate spending the money. Anyway I ordered a nice Columbia coat. 

It didn’t arrive. It was delayed. They couldn’t find it. They finally told me to just cancel the order for a refund.  I finally got my money and went to reorder. Guess what, the price has gone up more than $50! Coincidence? Yes. Irritating? Yes. I now have a different coat on the way. So it goes. The new one is cheaper than the original anyway. Nope. Canceled the order. They have given me an APRIL 1 delivery. No point in that. 

I’m off to find some breakfast. My heart says donuts. My brain says Raisin Bran. The imp in me says rum and orange juice. 

I guess I’ll have a granola bar. The other three of you personalities can just suck it. 

The Smell of the Glove, the Crack of the Bat

Millionaires and billionaires continue to sorta argue over how to slice up the MLB pie. At this point it seems they cannot even agree on which knife to use. They have yet to argue about what plate to put their respective slice. 

For a league that claims they want to attract a new crop of fans, they are trying as hard as possible to fail.

I was one of the few who stuck with professional baseball after the last strike. My closet full of various Cubs T-shirts notwithstanding, I will find a new hobby going forward should they cancel a significant portion of this season over money. 

Certainly, we do not have skin in the fight, but without the fan, MLB and players are arguing over air and fluff. Who is speaking for us?

Anschluss North

Half of my life was lived under the shadow of war with the Russians. After the Berlin Wall fell, followed by the rapid dissolution of the USSR, it seemed the specter of war was in the past. Today it seems the Russkies have moved to bring the Ukrainian homeland back into the fold. Will war once again break out on the European Continent? It seems they cannot avoid mass killing every century or so, going back a millennia (except the plague years, when Ma Nature was killing enough to satisfy everyone’s bloodlust). 

First the world will try sanctions until a rogue nation or two - ahem, China - decides a buck or Euro or Yuan is worth the weak disapprobation of the sanctioners. How long before the lack of oil and raw materials brings the Germans to the realization they don’t really care that much who rules Ukraine? In the end Britain and the US will be holding the bag with nothing to show for their efforts except pride in doing the right thing. 

The ineffectiveness of the UN will never be more apparent when Russia vetoes any UN sanctions or actions on their aggression. 

So either Putin stops there, or moves on to reclaim the Baltic States and then we will see if the Euroweenies have the stomach for another World War. Putin is betting they don’t. 

Truth be told, I’m not sure America has the stomach for it. The President lacked the fortitude to even rescue Americans from Afghanistan. We haven’t fought to win a war politically for 75 years. I think Putin believes that we are lacking the political will to fight. It only took a few months after 9/11 for the left to go all anti-war. No reason to think the Democrat Party isn’t ready to go all in on Sixties  war protest nostalgia once more. Does anyone have Cindy Sheehan’s phone number? 

In all honesty, I don’t think I care enough about Russia attacking Ukraine to encourage risking the young men and women of our military either.

Pay up

 A police officer is walking his beat when he catches with his eye a trail of $50 bills leading into an alley. Curious, he immediately goes in and finds an old woman with two bags of trash dragging on the ground, one of them leaving $50 notes in its wake.

He calls the woman to halt and approaches her.

“Excuse me Mam, but one of your bags has a hole”. He points out.

The woman thanks him profoundly but he, still curious, asks:

“Hope you don’t mind me snooping around but where did you get all that money?”

“Well, you see Mr.Officer,” the old lady explains, “I have a lovely house at the end of the street and it just so happens to be right next to a very famous bar. I don’t mind the noise but every night there are always some drunkards that piss all over my garden.” She said, her voice shaking with indignation.

“So, yesterday night I stood there with my pruning shears and whenever someone got their thingy out I’d say: ‘$50 bucks or I’ll cut it off!'”

Laughing at the amusing idea of those scared drunkards handing their money, the Police Officer lets her go about her way. But as she turns to go he jokingly asks:

“Is the second bag filled with money too?”

“Well, you know Mr. Officer, not everyone pays.”

Strip

 There was a bit of confusion at the Bass Pro Sporting Goods store this morning.  When I was ready to pay for my purchases of gun powder and bullets, the cashier said: “strip down, facing me.”

Making a mental note to complain to the NRA about the gun control whackos running amok, I did just as she had instructed. When the hysterical shrieking and alarms finally subsided, I found out that she was referring to how I should place my credit card.

Asking for a friend

So is there anything that can get a NCAA basketball coach fired besides losing?

Bonus question: what would have happened had the white skinned coach hit the black coach?

Huh?

I was scrolling through my channels yesterday. I see I now have something called the Black News Network. 

I was not aware the news of the day differed based on melanin levels in your skin.

Is there a news network predicated on blue eyes?

Yesterday’s Post Today

Before you totally distracted me yesterday I had some interesting stuff in mind to discuss. Yes, it was interesting because I said so. 

Don’t cop an attitude with me this morning. I’m in a good mood and I need not your gruff. 

Anyway, the wife likes to watch Wheel of Fortune with dinner. Since the Olympics have taken over the local NBC station, Wheel has moved to a subsidiary channel. 

Sorry to interrupt, but just how much ice skating can we stand anyway?

Switching over, Happy Days was on prior to Pat and Vanna. The wife pointed out that Happy Days was filmed in the seventies and was set in the fifties. That is roughly a twenty year gap. If Happy Days was filmed now it would be about life in 2002. Ponder that. 

“Think about this” she said, “Back in the day, when your old truck had an AM radio and all you could get was that oldies station from Chicago (WLS), those songs were only fifteen to twenty years old. Your so-called classic rock you listen to is fifty and sixty years old”. 

I did the math. Yup, she is right.

Consider this, I graduated  high school in 1980. We are further removed here in 2022 from 1980 than 1980 was from the Great Depression. And trust me, the Depression seemed like ancient history to high school me.

No wonder you roll your eyes when I mention Reagan or the Cold War. 

For goodness sake, the Clintons came in to power almost thirty years ago. No wonder I wish Hillary would go away. She has been cackling her way into the news far, far too long.

Geez, I feel old.

Thou Shalt Not

Here we are on a very cold Saturday. Posting has been light this week. The reason is three-fold. I had a two-day prep for the anal probe. I was buried at work.* And the biggest reason I’ve been lackadaisical about the old blog is I always get this way around this time of year. Last year I took almost a month off, if you recall.

To illustrate this point, I had a political post semi-written and just deleted the whole thing. Politics was a staple of my writing for most of the life of this blog and these days I just cannot muster the will to pontificate. Lefties are going to lefty, and reason has no place in the argument. 

Look no further than our northern neighbors to see what happens when you defy the leftist government types.  Bank accounts stolen, police in riot gear move in. Make no mistake, the police will always be on the side of their government masters. The next time you dream of a civil insurrection keep that in mind. They will control your finances. They have better war paraphernalia. They have better communications. Those cameras are everywhere.  

History never lies. The left is always intolerant and hates freedom. The evidence is there going back to 1793 France right through the twentieth century to this week’s Justine Trudeau’s Canada. Toe the leftist line or pay the price. 

Ah, you made me do it anyway. This isn’t what I wanted to write about at all today. I guess I’ll save it for tomorrow . Or another post today. Who knows? Click back often. Every hour. My blog visits are way down. I’m sure it has nothing to do with content or quantity of posts. It is your fault. 

Have a great Saturday.

See you in an hour!

* We are in the middle of negotiations with our biggest customer, which just happens to be my customer. Gigantic macro spreadsheets are involved. I am the global key account manager so currency, tariffs, and international logistics are all involved. The customer is a huge industrial and consumer products manufacturer and if I told you who, you would say “wow, those guys?”. 

Things to remember

 It takes guts to be an organ donor.

Cigarettes and coffee for breakfast

 My Mother was a conundrum. She could be a stern taskmaster and incredibly loving and kind. She had remarkable patience.

Mom was a hard worker. When I was a kid she sewed to bring in extra money. I can still remember lying in bed and hearing the sewing machine purring on and off in the next room late into the night. She made most of my shirts until she took an outside the home job when I went into middle school.

Mom did not drink alcohol. I can remember seeing her drink only a couple of times in my life. She drank copious amounts of coffee and had a Coke on hand every waking hour. And she smoked cigarettes. Lots of cigarettes. My mother woke in the night to have a cigarette. I would venture there was a lit cigarette almost constantly in the brown metal ashtray she always used, especially when I was younger.

There was never anyone better at organizing. She was active in the community. She was the ultimate room mother and PTO president. She put the Boy Scout Troop’s accounting books in order and later, when Dad was the treasurer of the Masonic Temple, it was Mom who really did the bookkeeping.

She loved animals and could never ignore a stray cat, often “just giving it water”. Then it was food and the next thing you knew she had yet another pet.

While she could be demanding, she had high standards for herself. She expected to be perfect and wanted everyone around her to be too. My mother had perfect handwriting. She was ever annoyed at my scrawl.

Mom also had a great sense of humor. I remember dad coming home from work furious. She packed his lunch and one day left the cellophane on his cheese sandwich as a joke. She even put on the lettuce and mustard. The guys at the lunch table found it funnier than he did.

Mom could bake a pie. She won awards for her apple pie. Her black raspberry pie was famous in the family. She always baked me a peach pie for every Christmas and Thanksgiving because she knew it was my favorite.

Mom could fight like a lioness to protect her kids. Her punishments were often harsh. She was slow to forgive. She was full of love.

Mom was complicated. I miss her. Today is her birthday. She would have been 82.

A Jewish Widow

 A widowed Jewish woman, mid 50′s, went to a Tel Aviv beach for the first time since her husband passed.

She was still attractive and looked good in her bathing suit.

On the same beach was an attractive man, mid 50’s, getting some sun and reading a book.

She put her blanket down next to his and began a conversation.“Whatcha reading”

“A book”. Not much of an answer, she thought to herself.

She pursued, “My husband passed several months ago and this is the first time I’ve been to this beach since then.”

“I’m a widower too and my wife passed several months ago also.”

He continued reading his book, seemingly not in the mood for further conversation.

Frustrated, she asked, “Do you like pussycats?”

With that, the man put down his book, joined the lady on her blanket, took of his trunks, ripped off her bathing suit and the two went at it, right there.

Out of breath, the lady asked, “How did you know that’s what I wanted?”

The man responded, “How did you know my name is Katz?”

Oh, probably not safe for work…

 

Strip Search

 There was a bit of confusion at the Bass Pro Sporting Goods store this morning.  When I was ready to pay for my purchases of gun powder and bullets, the cashier said: “strip down, facing me.”

Making a mental note to complain to the NRA about the gun control whackos running amok, I did just as she had instructed. When the hysterical shrieking and alarms finally subsided, I found out that she was referring to how I should place my credit card in the card-reader.  I have been asked to shop elsewhere in the future.

I’m hungry

The Big Game was entertaining. I didn’t really care who won. 

It is the Big Hallmark Holiday today. The wife made me agree to no cards, no flowers, no nothing. We would go for dinner tonight. Of course, I thought that was a great idea.

I have to do a colonoscopy on Wednesday for reasons. Reviewing the paperwork, I realized I have to start my prep today. I am banned from solid food starting this morning. 

So what? That means no cards, no flowers, no gifts, and no dinner. 

Being a resourceful couple we just went to dinner last night. It didn’t matter. The fake holiday is just a day on the calendar.

I’m a Woman’s Man, No Time to Talk

My iPhone had some issues and I had to get it replaced a month or two ago. Thank goodness for insurance! While setting up the new phone I noticed a substantial amount of music had disappeared from my iTunes library. Over the years I had downloaded huge amounts of music from my large CD collection and now all of those songs were gone.

To be fair, I think the “lost songs” disappeared long before this new phone. I haven’t listened to much music on my phone, instead opting for audible books and podcasts when driving the past few years. I know there was a huge issue with iTunes on the ancient laptop I used for years as a personal computer. The music could have been lost then. 

Yesterday I dragged the big storage bin out and pulled a few of my favorite albums from among the hundreds of stored CDs and downloaded them into iTunes. The whole process to get them into my phone library was harder than I remembered, but I have updated my phone through the cloud for years. 

A few of my favorites are back on the phone, and that was the point. 

What I didn’t remember was not only do I have a lot of CDs, I own some terrific music I forgot I even had.  There were albums I don’t even remember buying! I know at one point I got rid of a lot of music from my phone when I had close to 1,000 songs taking up memory. Now I have around 400. That is probably enough. 

I do need to go through those hundreds of CDs and give some of them a listen. I am missing some good music for sure. Then I can selectively add a few more good tunes. 

Who knew I owned the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack? Not me. And no, that wasn’t one I added yesterday.

I blame it on Friday Afternoon

The coffee is hot. The sky is cloudy. Classic rock plays quietly in the background as I type this one-fingered on the little iPad keyboard. 

We had a great time with the granddaughters last night. We took them to an Italian restaurant, the big National chain. Both girls were angels, even the two year-old. Sometimes she gets bored and antsy at dinner. She rarely eats at supper time so dining out at dinner can be a challenge. She is two. She isn’t bad, just wants to bounce around. Last night she sat and colored and then ate her entire plate of pasta when it arrived. 

I haven’t mentioned much, but I dig my new job. I’m ready to travel, but that is more the COVID state of things. Hard to visit people working from home. 

I did get annoyed yesterday. I asked my engineer to examine a customer drawing to make sure the part we quoted matched the requirements. She told me I was good to go. I duly informed the customer, copying my boss and a bunch of other folks in the customer’s engineering department. About 45 minutes later my boss, who used to be an applications engineer, sends an email informing me that the seal we quoted was different than the customer spec. 

Yes, I cursed out loud. I then had to send an “upon further review” email to everyone. Of course, I’m the one who looks bad here. A reasonable person will interpret that the dumb salesman forgot to check with engineering first. No I wouldn’t throw the engineer under the bus in front of the customer. Her credibility is more important with the customer than mine. Besides, she is fairly new too. And yes, with my experience I should have caught the difference.  Blame it on Friday.

Now it is Saturday. Have a great one.

Where the heck are the Rice Krispies?

 There is a cold rain falling. This time last week it was snow. That white stuff is still on the ground, at least for now. We shall see if the rain melts it or puts a protective layer of ice on top as temperatures hover just above freezing. 

It seems my worst fears are coming true. MLB is going to institute the Designated Hitter *spit* in the National League. They will likely continue with the little league softball rule by putting a “runner” on second base to start extra innings. *double spit*. I do not possess the vocabulary to properly voice my disdain for both rules. I loathe the DH. Is there a stronger word than “loathe”? Substitute it for me. 

Hold on. 

Sorry. FedEx dropped off a box then the boss called.

I’ve been reading a book about Napoleon and his 100 Days return after exile. It is a slog. At this rate it will take me at least 100 days to get through it. To be fair, The book really is engaging, I do fine once I’m reading, I just am reluctant to pick it up. You readers will know what I mean. 

We are watching the grandgirls this evening while my Daughter and SIL go out for his birthday. I’m sure we will have some fun. Unfortunately, they aren’t spending the night. We are just babysitting. 

There you go, a real post, not some music video.

Really worth waiting for, wasn’t it?

Friday Music

 

On a pitch count

When the youngest was a boy he loved baseball. He was an above average player and he loved to hit. As crazy as it sounds, he loved practicing, especially hitting. Several days a week we would be at an unused ball diamond, me pitching balls for him to hit. I had a five gallon bucket of balls and we would pick them up and then I’d throw them again. I would throw 100 to 150 pitches every outing. As he got older, that meant throwing harder to replicate what he would see in a game. 

Last night I dreamed about pitching to him. 

I woke with a sore shoulder. 

All I can think is that I slept with my arm above my head and my sleeping brain associated the pain with the old pitching days. 

I miss baseball. I’m ready for the season. Too bad greedy players and greedier owners cannot remember for whom they are playing.

Yeah, yeah, I know it is a business. That business model is based on entertaining fans. Leave the fans out and all you have is guys playing a game for free and fun. Or as it really is, millionaires and billionaires arguing about who gets a bigger slice of pie while no one plays baseball. 

Cowboy Up

 A sheriff of a small town is patrolling the town one night when he comes across a cowboy walking up Main St.

The cowboy is wearing nothing except his hat, boots, and gunbelt.

The sheriff is a bit surprised at first but gets over his initial shock and arrests the cowboy for indecent exposure.

The sheriff locks the cowboy in the cell with a pair of pants, then turns back and asks him, “How is it I came across you walking around naked like that?”

The cowboy says, “Well, sheriff, it went like this. I was out at a bar earlier tonight and I saw this gorgeous girl sitting at the bar. We got to talking, danced a while, had a few beers, and next thing you know we’re making out in her trailer. She took off her shirt and told me to take off my shirt, so I did. Then she took off her shorts and told me to take off my jeans, so I did. Then she took off her bra and her panties and told me to take off my boxers, so I did. Then she went and lay down on the bed, spread her legs, looked at me kinda sexy and said ‘Now go to town, cowboy!’And, well, here I am!”

Turn out the lights…

 A woman marries the man of her dreams, but on their wedding night he will only consummate the marriage under the sheets with the lights off.

The woman thinks this is a bit strange, but she figures he’s just shy about his first time and doesn’t read too much into it.

Over the next 30 years, the couple builds a life together.  They buy a house, get a dog, and have three amazing children, but the woman has just one problem.

Her husband will still only have sex with her if they’re under the sheets with the lights off.

One night, the woman has had enough and decides to get to the bottom of things.

She hides a flashlight under her pillow, and just as things are heating up she throws back the sheets and shines the light at their bodies.

She is amazed to discover that her husband has an incredibly tiny penis, and is wearing a very realistic strap-on over it.

The woman feels betrayed and starts screaming at her husband, asking him how he could lie to her for 30 years and telling him she feels like a fool for believing him all this time.

When her husband finally gets a chance to speak, he responds:”I’ll explain the toy if you explain the kids.”

So says the snow

 

It is supposed to hit 40 today. 

We will have icy roads in the morning.

I’ll count to three to give you a chance to just walk away

Lee Child’s Reacher books are among my favorites. I’ve read most of them at this point, picking them up mostly when they are on sale for my Kindle. Reacher is Travis McGee without all the introspection. 

In all honesty, the two film versions of Jack Reacher novels are pretty good. Tom Cruise gets the personality of the character down perfectly. He portrays the silent menace and just-below-the-surface violence Reacher radiates . He just cannot fit the bill physically. Reacher is a hulk of a man, Cruise is like 5’7”. 

Amazon Prime channel has released a new Reacher series. I caught episode one yesterday morning. Yes. That is Reacher on film. The series covers book one, The Killing Floor, one of my least favorites, but so it goes. I am finding the show entertaining. So far.

I suppose it is important to someone in the government to point out I am not compensated in any way to tell you I like this show. Quite the contrary, I am paying to watch it.

The neighbors are all on the move this morning

The azure sky is reflected in the whites of the snow as a cold breeze drops wind chills below zero. The maple in the front yard beckons bare limbs to the boreal winds. The neighbor’s truck warms in the driveway, now the snow crunches under tires as he pulls away.  I sip coffee and muse on the simple but generous gifts God has given me. 

I type away in my office recliner today, the upstairs warmer than the lower story, even with the vents shut. Warm air rises and science wins here at Chez Joe. 

The oldest boy sent me his W2s, so I will fire up the desktop and do his taxes this morning. 

I finally got my office arranged in the guest bedroom. The office has been in that room for a couple of years, but I needed a new desk to accommodate my new computer gear. The old desk had a hutch and while I miss the shelves and nooks, I like the new big monitors. Hard to believe I worked for two decades with just a laptop. 

Blog buddy Jean will love the framed newspaper above the TV

Why yes, I hate the brown walls. They will be repainted after the kitchen and family room. When we moved here my office was in a different room and this was just a spare bedroom we used as a sorta den.The wife chose this color. Now we have spoiled granddaughters who each have their own bedroom for the little one’s nap and the elder’s occasional sleep over. Why not? We have the space*. Thus, I moved my office to the front bedroom instead of the one in back overlooking the big willow. That’s fine. This room is bigger anyway.

I need more coffee and you are tired of my rambling.

Have a great Saturday.

*the granddaughters each have there own room, but growing up my sons had to share a bedroom. This was a source of constant tension and a fact I am reminded of every time the oldest comes to visit. We “downsized” into the largest house we have ever owned when we moved up to the northern ‘burbs. But the yard is much smaller, does that count?

There Snow Problem

Let me just say from the top that I have great neighbors. The guy across the street got out three times yesterday and cleaned everyone on the cul-de-sac’s drive. How awesome is that?

The winter storm has exited stage right after a couple days of weather. We got the whole gamut — rain, sleet, and snow. It appears we have around eight inches of snow on the ground. North of us got more, south less. I’m not sure this weather event lived up to the hype. We have had bigger snowfall totals in the past for sure. Many times. 

I will venture out later and shovel off the walk to the porch and a path to the garbage cans. Of course the driveway is clear, but there has been nary a sighting of a snow plow for the street. That is typical too. The good news is I only have to navigate less than 100 yards to get to a main artery. It will be cleared. I have nowhere to go anyway. The wife, she is sure to be stir crazy and ready to go somewhere, anywhere, by this afternoon. I suppose I outta clean off the Jeep in anticipation when I am out shoveling. 

What say we venture back to the eighties for a little music today?

Is there any tune that sounds more “eighties”?

Have a great Friday and stay warm.

Good for me, not for you

Isn’t ironic the sixties lefties who sang protest songs about getting the right to express ones opinion are now leading the charge to stifle free speech? 

Well, not really, totalitarianism is what lefties are best at.

Who is the boss?

Jack was going to be married to Jill, so his father sat him down for a
little chat... "Jack, let me tell you something. On my wedding night in
our honeymoon suite, I took off my pants and handed them to your mother,
and said 'Here try these on.'

So, she did and said 'These are too big. I can't wear them' So I replied
'Exactly. I wear the pants in this family and I always will.' Ever since
that night we have never had any problems." "Hmm" says Jack. He thinks
that might be a good thing to try. So on his honeymoon, Jack takes off
his pants and says to Jill "Here try these on." She does & says "These
are too large, they don't fit me." So Jack says, "Exactly, I wear the
pants in this family & I always will, and I don't want you to ever forget
that." Jill takes off her pants and hands them to Jack & says, "Here you
try on mine." He does and says, "I can't get into your pants." Jill
says, "Exactly. And if you don't change your smart ass attitude,

you never will." 

Gloom, Despair…

 “Helen,” he said, “We’ve been through so much together. Do you remember when the shop burned down, and we lost everything of value we had in this world? We had to start over from nothing, but you were by my side.”

His wife solemnly replied, “I remember, dear.”

“Helen,” he continued, “when our son was killed in that terrible car accident, I was heartbroken. I didn’t think I could go on, but you were by my side.”

His wife began to softly cry, “I know, dear.”

“And now,” the man went on, “I’m about to leave this world. In my final moments, where are you 

His wife sobbed, “Right here by your side, dear.”

“Helen,” the man said, “I’m beginning to think you might be bad luck.”

Reasonable

A big winter storm is brewing. We are all set here at the compound. Snow shovels are staged. A big bucket of ice melt is on hand. We have milk, eggs, and bread. The Jeep is in the drive gassed and ready. We have bottles of water. Blankets,  candles, and flashlights are available. I have guns and ammo in case unruly neighbors try to steal my extra jar of spaghetti sauce. 

We have all of that  stuff available any time. 

I stuck food and water in the car. I don’t know why, but the news assures me that is essential. 

No I didn’t. I have common sense. I am not going anywhere. If I was, then yes, I would prepare. I was a Boy Scout.

It reminds me of an encounter with “that guy” when I was doing my stint at Lowe’s. He came in looking for “a big ass space heater” a few days before a predicted storm. He wanted one big enough to heat the house if the power went off. I showed him the kerosene heaters. He didn’t want to mess with that. “I want the biggest electric heater you got”. I asked if he had a generator. “I ‘splained  it already” he said. “I want a big plug-in heater to warm my house when the power goes out. I don’t wanna fuck with no gas or kerosene “. 

I pointed him to the electric space heaters. I’ve no doubt he returned it later because “it didn’t work”.