You shall speak my name with awe

I voluntarily took the grandgirls to Chuck E Cheese yesterday. 

No more needs to be said.

Weekend Funny

 A man and a woman were driving down the road, arguing about his deplorable infidelity when suddenly the woman reached over and sliced the man's penis off. Angrily, she tossed it out of the car window.

Driving behind the couple was a man along with his 6-year-old 
daughter. The little girl was chatting away at her father when all of a sudden the penis smacked their car windshield, stuck for a moment, then flew off.

Surprised, the daughter asked her father, "Daddy, what the heck was that?"

Shocked, but not wanting to expose his little girl to anything sexual at such a young age, the father replied, "It...it was only a bug, Honey."

The daughter sat with a confused look on her face, and after a 
moment she said... "Sure had a big dick, didn't it?"

*i actually published this back in 2005, so it is a very old rerun.

** probably NSFW

Why not me on a rainy day?

Happy Friday! It has seemed a long week for some reason. Work has dragged. From being inundated a couple of weeks ago, the emails and phone calls have slowed considerably this week. So it goes. 

The granddaughters are coming over tonight to spend the weekend. That will be a blast.  By Sunday, the house will look like a Barbie store exploded and scattered tiny shoes and clothes all over the house, but that is what it is all about. 

What? Sure, I’ll post some Friday Music, since you asked nicely.

I was going to put up some CCR, but this song popped in my head.

A popular unpopular position

 At the risk of inviting trolls of every stripe, my position is clear. If you cannot legally change your name until you are 18, then your name is your name. You will have to use whatever name your mom gave you while you are in school, even if you feel like a Betty now instead of a Barney. If your parents are cool with you being Betty, I am fine, but no secret names while you are at school. You are the name you were registered under. 

Ditto your bathroom. Use the “family” facilities, I don’t care, otherwise, your junk specifies which restroom you use. 

neighbors

The house to the left of the old homestead has been a mess and eyesore since we moved in. For most of the time it has been a rental. I think the current guy bought it a couple of years ago. He treats the property like a renter. Early last winter his garbage can blew over and trash spilled out, blowing all over his backyard. The trash is still there.  Currently there is trash in my front yard from his garbage can. He put it by the curb yesterday, on trash day. Too bad they had picked up the trash four hours before he dragged the bin to the curb. I will clean up the mess when I go to get the mail. There is zero chance he will pick up after himself. 

One renter did not have room for all of her junk, so she piled couches and furniture in the side yard beside my house. After a few days it rained and ruined everything, so she did not bother to take it in. It sat there for nearly a month. I tried to talk to her about it, but she refused to answer the door. I left notes. Both the neighbors across the street and I made numerous calls to the HOA and the city. Finally, it alol disappeared one day. 

At least the current guy mows the lawn. The previous occupant didn’t. The bright spot is that that house keeps me from having the worst lawn on the cul-de-sac.

Pardon me, sir

 A man and a woman were having a quiet, romantic dinner in a fine restaurant.

They were gazing lovingly at each other and holding hands.

The waitress, taking another order at a table a few steps away,

Suddenly noticed the woman slowly sliding down her chair and under the table but the man stared straight ahead.

The waitress watched as the woman slid all the way down her chair and out of sight under the table.

Still, the man stared straight ahead.

The waitress, thinking this behaviour a bit risque and worried that it might offend other diners, went over to the table and, tactfully, began by saying to the man:

“Pardon me, sir, but I think your wife just slid under the table.”

The man replied:

“Naah, She just arrived at the restaurant..!”

spring!

It is the Equinox, and I am not talking about the car model. Today, the earth is tilted more or less upright, bring on warmer days and longer sunlight for those of us who reside in the northern hemisphere. Sorry you south-halfers, winter is coming. 

With the first day of spring there is the promise of warm breezes, sunshine, days with friends at the pool and smoking cigars on the patio. Not yet, but soon. The neighbors daffodils are blooming. 

Oh, and it is Monday, back to work.

Technicalities

I guess I cannot complain, it is still winter. Spring does not start until tomorrow. Seriously though, it is 17F with a windchill of 5! We got about an inch of snow last night. What the heck, Mother Nature. Enough complaining, I suspect it is unseasonably cold at your house too. A quick check shows today’s highs will only be the 60s in Orlando. 

In other news, Hunter Biden is suing over the release of materials from the laptop that wasn’t his. You remember, the information that was fake and Russian disinformation? Weird to sue over fake stuff from something you don’t actually own. Funny, I have yet to see a retraction from NBCABCCNNCBSMSNBC and the Washington Post, forget the Silicon Valley censors or the lefty talking head “experts”. I guess it was in the name of no more mean tweets or something. 

welcome to purgatory

As I look outside and see the ground covered in snow I remember my neighbor telling me yesterday that it would be a cold day in Hell when Purdue lost to a sixteen seed.

And all them stonies are dancin' to the radio

Everyone I need to talk to took the day off. Everyone who needs to talk to me has buried me in phone calls and emails today. 

It is cold out. If there was moisture it would snow. Hey Ma Nature, spring starts Monday!

How about some Friday music? What happened to you Hey Teacher? You are the only one who liked this feature.

Getting humped on hump day

The Big Basketball tournament is starting and I don’t care. I filled out zero brackets, failed to enter an office pool. I simply do not care. I am aware I may have to give up my Hoosier citizenship, but so it goes. Basketball has not been king in the State for a long time. 

In other news, inflation is not getting better, any trip to the grocery conforms this fact. If the fed ups interest rates to fight inflation, bank investments become weaker, possibly leading to more bank failures. The effects of Fifteen years of cheap money and printing cash are now being felt. 

Twenty bucks

 A man is walking home late at night when he sees a woman in the shadows.

“Twenty bucks,” she says.

He’s never been with a prostitute before, but he decides what the hell.

They are going at it for a minute when all of a sudden a light flashes on them—it’s a policeman.

“What’s going on here, people?” asks the officer.

“I’m making love to my wife,” the man answers indignantly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says the cop,

“I didn’t know.”

“Well,” said the man,

“To tell the truth neither did I until you flashed that light on her face.”

Jumping into the wayback machine to the glorious days of 2008.

I woke yesterday to about an inch of snow on the grass. It melted in the course of the day, but it remains cold. Today, it has snowed off and on without sticking. Hello Spring. 

The bank failures have a decided 2008 sense to them. They should. The same guy helped sink Lehman Brothers was a big honcho at the SVB bank in California. As an additional kick in the teeth, everyone at Silicon Bank got a bonus right before it collapsed. How about regulators pull back that money? 

Biden has decreed deposits over the insured limit will be guaranteed. 

Good luck collecting extra funds if you need your insurance above the stated limits. I’m a certain, nay positive, that the fact the major depositors and investors in SVB are among the largest Democrat donors had nothing to do with anything. Nothing to see move along. 

GM is laying off hundreds and offering voluntary “retirement” to thousands. 

Biden is ensuring we continue to have high gas prices by closing off prime oil fields. High gas = high inflation. 

This stuff seems to happen every time a leftist Democrat (redundancy warning) gets elected. 

Women want me, men want to be me

I made love to my wife for one hour and three minutes last night. Who’s the man? 

Sure it was during the change to DST, but whatever...

I'm very tired and I'm not feeling right

It is a blustery, chilly Friday and I anticipate a blustery, chilly, rainy, and snowy weekend. It seems like a stay inside weekend for sure. I had hoped to do some yard work. The backyard is a mess. Several large limbs fell from the big willow last month and I need to get them sawed up. I am talking very large limbs: four or five inches in diameter. Getting rid of the wood once it is cut up is another matter. One problem at a time. The flower beds need cleaned. The whole thing is a mess. But it won’t b done this weekend, that’s for sure. 

The wife is off Saturday to a baby shower. She will b gone a good part of the day. I guess I could clean house while she is away. Or I could read and watch old movies. Life is full of decisions.

How about some Friday music? I have the Hollies bouncing around in my head this morning, but we have done them before. How about we jump into the eighties with an MTV staple?

Help me, Rhonda

Can someone, anyone, explain why we are sending hundreds of billions of tax dollars — taken yours and my paychecks  —  to Ukraine?  When will it stop? 

What vital US interest is at stake? 

Maybe if we stopped giving money away to settle Hunter Biden’s debts, Papa Joe wouldn’t have to ask for tax increases. 

On being

 I look out the window and appears to be a beautiful spring day. Too bad it is barely above freezing. So it goes in March.

I have about two dozen emails I need to answer. I need information from internal sources, primarily engineering, to respond.  I get answers to questions I did not ask, but on key stuff, nothing. I have resorted to sending the customer email so there is no confusion on what is needed.  Small complaints. It beats the hell out of breaking my back at the Big Box. Pays significantly better too. 

In other news, I hate every elected politician from very party on every level. The bureaucrats employed in government are not any better. 

Except for you, whatever government employee/agency tasked with monitoring this drivel. You do a great job and I respect the heck out of you. You are wonderful. If  knew who you were I would send a fruit basket; out of respect, not a bribe. You would never take a bribe. 

Highchair Mysteries

I have been a semi-absent landlord of the old blog for a spell. So it goes. I am sick of politics and my life is boring. That does not leave much to write about. I could tell you I installed a new garage door opener last weekend. The previous one consisted of me opening the door for my wife and the mechanical one before that quit working back in about July of last year. I think I only cursed out-loud one time and in my head there were perhaps a half dozen mutterings.

Part of the big sales meeting last week was working as a group to compose a written sales strategy. I am not always right. I am not the best writer out there, but let me say some of my colleagues are wordy. Anyone who reads here regularly knows I am generally of the Hemingway school; short sentences. 

I declare I love short sentences with a long string of words. Appropriate. 

Since we are on the topic of words, the novel is right at 60,000 words. That equates to around 250 novel pages or 130 plus regular pages. After almost flowing from my brain, the story has hit the proverbial wall. I know where I want the characters to go, but the words will not come. I need to figure out Fuzzy’s secret, he is pumping out novels right and left.

I am considering scraping the whole thing and rewriting the tale as a coming of age story incorporating the short story I published here years ago about a teen who was bullied by his crush. I don’t know. Mostly I am going to leave things sit until the muse returns. Parts of the current story were written a decade ago, a few weeks will not matter. 

Enjoy your Sunday. 

I-70 is the most boring road in the nation

Hola readers. I’m back from a four day business trip. It was good to be on the road. Unfortunately, it was a sales meeting. I should not say that, this was one of the more productive and fun meetings I have attended. Not only did we get a lot of work done, we had a good time. 

We went to hockey game, played at Top Golf and ate some great food. Despite the fact I have not swung a golf club in at least 15 years, I won one of the games. Maybe because I was rated “beginner” and it was easier for me.

I also saw a couple of customers before and after the meeting. A good trip all around.

I  glad to be home, though.

Wives

Michael was thinking about how good his wife had been to him and how fortunate he was to have her.

He asked God:

“Why did you make her so kind-hearted?”

The Lord responded:

“So you could love her my son”

Next question:

“Why did you make her so good-looking?”

Reply: “So you could love her my son”

Third one: “Why did you make her such a good cook?”

Response: “So you could love her my son”

Michael thought about this for a while, and then he said:

“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful or anything. But why did you make her so stupid?”

Without hesitation came the answer:

“So she could love you, my son.

Horrible rotten sucky awful terrible despicable

 It was only a couple innings of pre-season ball, but I hate, loathe , and scorn the new pitch clock rule in baseball. 

To tell you how much disdain I have, the pitch clock is worse than the designated hitter rule. And the DH ruined baseball.

I spit in your general direction Rob Manfred.

But there are no more mean tweets

Biden has released at least four terrorists from Guantanamo so far this year, with no conditions. We paid Belize $300,000 to take one of them.

That is your tax money. . 

Do you feel safer? 

Something to ponder

More broadly, the overall number of immigrants — legal and illegal — working was up 2 million in the fourth quarter of 2022 compared to the same quarter of 2019, before the COVID pandemic hit, according to a CIS analysis. That analysis was based on the Current Population Survey collected by the Census Bureau for the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Meanwhile, there were 1.9 million fewer U.S.-born Americans working over the same time period.  source

Emphasis mine. Offered without further comment.  Draw your own conclusions.

What I think

 Just because you are offended, it does not make you victimized.

If you need additional explanation, you might be the problem.

This is what the old blog has become. A joke

 A guy walks into a bar with his dog but the bartender says,

“Sorry, we don’t allow animals in here.”

The dog replies, “Hey, I’m tired of being discriminated against. Just give me a drink.”

The bartender says, “Oh, no, not another ventriloquist with the old talking dog trick. Both of you, get out of here!”

“No, no, no, this isn’t a trick, I promise you,” says the man,

“I tell you what, I’ll go for a walk around the block and you talk to Rover here.”

The man leaves and the bartender sees him turn the corner.

“Now, can I have my drink.” says the dog.

The bartender is amazed.

“Sure you can and it’s on the house! Listen, can you do me a favour? My wife works next door at the cafe. It’ll make her day if you go in and order a cup of coffee.” Here is ten bucks and you can keep the change afterwards.”

“Okay.” says the dog and he takes the ten dollars and leaves.

Ten minutes go by and the dog doesn’t come back.

The owner returns and asks where is the dog.

So both of them go off to see what has happened to the dog.

As they approach the cafe, they see Rover going at it hot and heavy with a French poodle in the alley between the bar and cafe.

The owner shouts, “Rover! What are you doing! You’ve never done this before!”

“The dog shrugged.

“Hell, I’ve never had any money before.”.”

True life adventures

 A man and his wife were sitting in the living room and he said to her,

“Just so you know, I never want to live in a vegetative state,

dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle.

If that ever happens, just pull the plug.”

His wife got up, Kissed him ever so gently,

unplugged the TV and threw out all of his beer.

Exciting Weekend guaranteed to make your heart race

Happy Monday Hoosierboy fans. I hope you had a great weekend, I did. Nothing was accomplished, but it passed pleasantly nonetheless. 

On Saturday the wife babysat in the afternoon and while she was gone I sat in front of the Tv and watched something and napped and watched more stuff. In the evening we went to visit some friends. We ate Mexican food and played cards. I drank one whole beer! It was a wild Saturday night!

Sunday I watched tv and napped and watched more stuff. The wife went to a pampered chef party. 

The amount of sheer excitement likely leaves you overwhelmed.

Now it is Monday. The  fun rolls on like a runaway freight train filled with toxic chemicals. 

PSA

 If you choose to watch the Hulu series about 1619, be warned, you will be dumber and less educated after viewing it. 

Posting with my phone and it will not format right

In all honesty, I do not have anything to write about here at the old blogeroo. Politics bores me. You do not care about the weather. I do nothing of interest. 

Lately my creative efforts have gone into writing and rewriting on my novel. In truth, that thing will likely never see the light of day. I am afraid I have written 55,000 words of drivel so far. I have sent off my efforts to a very good friend who writes for a living. I trust his opinion. You have likely seen him on TV or read his work. He is a terrific journalist. While we probably don’t agree on stuff politically, that does not mean he isn’t a talented writer. 

Anyway I need affirmation or tough love from an honest critic and he will provide that input. I am sure he will find a nice way to say “juvenile and hackneyed “ without sounding mean. 

Have a great Friday.

On this day

 Happy birthday, Mom

I miss you more than you can imagine

Indecent Proposal

 A boss said to his secretary, “I want to make love with you, but I will make it very fast.

I’ll throw $1,000 on the floor and by the time you bend down to pick it up, I’ll be done.”

She thought for a moment then called her boyfriend and told him the story. Her boyfriend said, “Do it but ask him for $2,000. Then pick up the money so fast, he won’t even have enough time to undress himself.” She agrees.

After half an hour passes, the boyfriend calls the girlfriend and asks, “So what happened?”

She responds, “The …bastard…..used …..coins”

Smile

 Happy Valentine’s Day to all f you lovers out there 

Women

 Joe was sitting at a bar. He was totally depressed. The bartender, serving him a drink, asked what was wrong.

“I’ll never understand women.” – said Joe.

“The other night on my birthday, my wife said as my gift, I could do with her what I wanted.”

“Wow! That’s quite some gift.” – said the bartender.

“So why are you so dejected?”

“Well I thought about it for a while” said Joe, “and decided to send her home to her mother, and now she won’t even speak to me!”

You may or may not be curious

 I’m not dead. I am busy doing other stuff 

Thank you for stopping by

State of the Union Recap

 i didn’t watch. I don’t care what that bag of wind had to say. I know the state of the union when I go to the grocery or I buy gas. 

Noticed

 It will be warm today but it will rain this afternoon. 

I started growing my beard on a November 1 last year. I kept it neat and trimmed. On a whim, I shaved it off February first. On Saturday, February 04, my wife said “Hey, you shaved!” I’m glad she noticed.

Speaking of noticing things, did you know it is Black History Month? There has been nothing said about it in print, television, news stories, or posts on social media. I don’t want you to miss it. 

The next Raoul Lufbery

There has not been a Balloon Ace in more than 100 years. Some anonymous pilot has his first kill.

Meanwhile, in the far distant past

 Near the end of July, Jeff announced he was having a party at his parent’s lake house to celebrate “graduation, the end of summer, going off to college, and the last high school fling.” The first weekend in August, Sarah and I piled into the back seat of Tim Flynn’s car. Jenny Moore was in the front chattering away with excitement. Tim was driving his mother’s new Pontiac Bonneville. Rock music exploded through the stereo speakers as we flew down the highway. A faint smell of corn and dirt seeped through the open windows.

We pulled into the yard at the lake house and parked beside several other cars. Sarah and Jenny went inside to change, Tim and I went around to the back. There was a tub of beer on ice on the deck. The Bee Gees were playing at high volume while Jerry Schwartz tried to imitate John Travolta’s solo dance steps from Saturday Night Fever. He was not good at it.

I reached into the ice and pulled out a beer. “Turn that crap off!” I shouted. “Disco Sucks” echoed Tim, pulling the tab from his own beer. Sarah walked out of the house wearing a strapless red bikini. She looked stunning. I promptly gave her a wolf whistle.

Sarah struck a pose and asked, “Buy me a drink, Sailor?” I asked her what she wanted and she said beer was fine. Jenny was pouring vodka into a plastic cup half-full of orange juice. She watched Jerry for a minute and shook her head. Some people were splashing in the lake and jumping off the dock. There was a group of kids playing volleyball at a net set up in the grass.

Jeff appeared around the corner. “Get over here, Wyatt” he shouted. Sarah and Jenny walked down to the dock where several other girls were sunning. Tim and I walked around the corner. The Anderson brothers were throwing horseshoes. “Come on, let’s play,” said Bill. Tim grunted that horseshoes was an old man’s game. “Not if you make it into a drinking game,” laughed the elder Anderson brother. Someone finally turned the radio to a rock station.

Later in the afternoon someone went to town and brought back buckets of chicken and slaw. I sat with Sarah and Rachael Morris on the edge of the dock. Jeff plopped down and spilled half the coleslaw from his plate onto his lap. We all laughed. He slipped into the water to rinse off. “No Problem,” he said.  Asked him if we could go skiing. He said his parents had forbidden use of the speed boat.

As I walked to the garbage bin to throw away our collected plates, I spied a canoe upturned by the house. I chugged my beer and grabbed the canoe and dragged to the water’s edge. I went over to my clothes and found a cigar and stuck it in my mouth, unlit. “Sarah, my dear, shall we go boating?” I asked with a terrible British accent.

Sarah shook her head. “You do not know how to paddle a canoe.”

I straightened to attention. “I will have you know I earned my Canoeing Merit Badge as a Boy Scout. I am an excellent canoer, uh, canoeist, um, canoe driver, ah, canoe captain. You will accompany me, woman,” I ordered. Sarah laughed and followed me to the edge of the lake.

I pushed the canoe in and held the stern while she climbed in. “Hold the gunwales, that is the sides, and walk straight up the middle one foot behind the other,” I instructed. Sarah reached the bow and turned and sat in the seat facing me.

“I hope you are not planning on me helping paddle this thing, Mr. Expert,” she intoned. I told her to have no fear. I was in command and control.

I pushed the boat off and jumped in. I paddled a few strokes to get us past the dock and then turned the canoe parallel to the shore with expertise. “You might really know what you are doing, even if you are half-wasted,” she said. I assured her I was highly skilled. Sarah leaned back.  I couldn’t help but admire her body.

“You look ravishing, My Dear,” I told her, still staying in character. The water sparkled with reflected sunlight. Sweat droplets ran down my back. I stuck the cigar back between my teeth and rocked the canoe side to side.

“Stop. You will tip us and I do not want to get my hair wet.” I rocked again, laughing. “Stop it, Sam,” Sarah said sternly. She gave me a mock angry look. I do not know why; at that very moment I deliberately tipped the canoe over.

Sarah came up from the water sputtering and spitting. “Sam Wyatt you are an asshole,” she shouted.

I dog paddled a few strokes to her. Using my best Dudley Do-Right impersonation, I shouted “I’ll save you, Penelope.” I reached across her chest, pulling her onto her back, life-saving style. I took advantage of the situation to grope her breast and began to kiss her in mock mouth-to-mouth breathing. She pulled away and swatted at me. At this point she was laughing. She told me I really was a jerk. I stood up. The water only came to my chest.

Sarah swam around and put her arms around my neck and wrapped her legs around my waist. I supported her bottom as she kissed me. “You are really a jerk,” she whispered, “But I love you anyway.” She gave me a quick peck and a crooked smile. I could only grin.

Evening came. The sun painted the horizon with orange and purple hues. The drinking tapered off as we helped clean up the mess. The girls changed and we all piled back into Tim’s car for the drive home. We had the windows open, enjoying the cool breeze after the day in the sun. Jenny was pretty drunk from the screwdrivers. She swayed a little in the seat as she tuned through the radio stations looking for something that pleased her. She looked over at Tim, her face pale. “Honey, I think I am going to be sick.”

Tim started to slow the car looking for a safe place to pull over. “Do not puke in the car!” he ordered. Jenny promptly reached into her bag and threw up into her damp beach towel. The car was still moving fairly quickly down the highway, there was no shoulder, only a ditch beside the road. Tim accelerated trying to find a pull-off.

Jenny took the towel and shook it out the window. Instantly, the slipstream grabbed the mess of half-digested chicken, chunks of slaw, and alcohol and splashed it into the backseat and directly onto my face. I promptly vomited all over the floor. “Not in the car,” wailed Tim. The odor of vomit engulfed the back seat. Sarah took one look at my vomit-splattered face and promptly threw up on her lap and all over the floorboard. “Not in the car, not in the car,” cried Tim. Jenny turned to see what was going on and promptly puked again, this time all over the front seat. Tim found a place to pull over. He put the car in park and held his head in his hands. “Not in the car,” he moaned.

Don’t Look Back

Thanks for the great response to my writing attempts. 

I’m going to post another section from the book tomorrow, it is much longer and quite different in tone. I woke up Friday morning at a little after 5:00 AM with the passage I will post very nearly written in its entirety in my head. 

Do not be afraid to offer criticism. I am a big boy.

Here is some music for your Saturday.

Glimpse

I sat on the edge of Carrie’s old twin bed. Weak sunlight filtered in through the opening of the pink curtains. I unsnapped the plastic case and took out Dad’s old pistol. It was a snub nosed .38. The chrome was worn in places, but the barrel was clean and the gun was oiled. The weapon was the very definition of a Saturday Night Special; compact and deadly. Dad used to keep it in his desk at the bank, I suppose in a misguided notion he could foil a holdup or something.

The pistol had a reassuring heft. I had fired it many years ago. It had a little kick for such a small gun. The hole it left in the paper target was serious enough. I held the pistol to my head and pulled the trigger. Snap. I opened the box of shells and counted them. There were nineteen. I fed five shells into the cylinder even though I only planned on using one.

I had never felt such…despair was not the right word…hopelessness. I was drowning in my very existence. For the first time in my life, I just did not care about anything. It was as if weights were on my legs, my shoulders, my arms, my fingertips, my lungs, and my heart. I was pressed down by the enormity and futility of it all. It was like that touch of panic claustrophobia you felt when you found yourself in a dark tight spot -- the crawlspace under the house, in a closet, or crawling to reach something that rolled under the bed. It was like that panic, only magnified – it was the claustrophobia of living.

“Not here,” I thought. Not on Carrie’s bed. I walked down the hall. I could never leave such a mess in the bedroom I shared with Sarah.  I went outside to the backyard. I sat on a chair, cocked the gun, and held it to my temple. I heard the kids next door laughing and splashing in their little blow-up pool. For the next sixty years, to those children, I would be the neighbor who offed himself. I gently squeezed the trigger and lowered the hammer with my thumb.

I sat on the patio until darkness fell. I walked inside and unloaded the gun and returned it to its plastic box. I put the shells back into the carboard carton. I sat in my recliner and opened a bottle of bourbon.

Three Rednecks

 Three Rednecks were working up on a cell phone tower: Cooter, Ronnie and Donnie.

As they start their descent Cooter slips, falls off the tower and is killed instantly.

As the ambulance takes the body away, Ronnie says,

“Well, damn, someone should go and tell his wife.”

Donnie says, “OK, I’m pretty good at that sensitive stuff, I’ll do it.”

Two hours later, he comes back carrying a case of Budweiser.

Ronnie says, “Where did you get that beer, Donnie?”

Cooter’s wife gave it to me,” Ronnie replies.

That’s unbelievable, you told the lady her husband was dead and she gave you beer?”

“Well, not exactly,” Donnie says. “When she answered the door, I said to her, ‘You must be Cooter’s widow’”.

She said, “You must be mistaken, I’m not a widow.”

Then I said, “I’ll bet you a case of Budweiser you are.”

Because you asked nicely

 I’m drinking French Roast this morning.

That is all.

time to make the donuts

 Sorry, I have not forgotten you. My creative energy is still going to my story. I am more than 35,000 words in and I have yet to hit a wall. Certainly even writing that last sentence will engender writer’s block.  My biggest problem is lack of feedback. I have no idea if the story is any good. I’m thinking about creating a blog and posting the thing a chapter at a time. We shall see. I have rewrites first. 

The grandgirls spent the night. As soon as everyone is up the oldest is going to help make fried biscuit donuts. 

I hear someone coming down the stairs. Time to cook.

Have a great Saturday.

Snowmeggedon

Weather forecasters hyped a big snow event for today. We were told to expect upwards of a half-foot of the white stuff, and they really meant it this time. We still have many hours before the day is done, but it better get started soon. That 1/8” on the grass and wet pavement is making all those administrators who canceled school look like fools. 

I might be wrong, it may really come down between now and early afternoon. We shall see.

In any case, 45 years ago we were hit with theBlizzard of ‘78, now that was some snow.  My wife’s father died during the blizzard, so she remembers it well. 

So What?

There is a light dusting of snow on the ground; less than an inch. A few flakes continue to fall. I am inside where it is warm, what do I care? Why should you? The short answer is you do not. 

I slept in again this morning. That is two days in a row. I have climbed out of bed between six and six-thirty without an alarm, almost without fail, for decades. Now I find myself still in bed at 8:00! I wonder what is going on. 

I almost shaved my beard yesterday. I like having it, but it just isn’t me when I look in the mirror. I trimmed it up. I will certainly be back to my clean-shaven self by spring. 

The wife suggested potato soup and BLTs for dinner. I think beef and noodles sounds good. 

There. You have an entire post filled with trivialities and stuff even  I do not care about. It takes real skill to be this boring. 

Have a great Sunday.

Think about that on April 15th

We have given around $150,000,000,000.00 to the Government of Ukraine in the last year or so. There is no accountability for any of that money. For all you and I know, a good chunk of that cash is now in somebody’s Swiss Bank account. 

Most politicians are lamenting we need to increase our federally mandated debt ceiling. “we have spent that money, we need to pay our bills” they tell us. BTW don’t you wish you could spend with impunity and then demand the bank increase. your credit card limit based on the fact that “you have already spent the money”? A more apt description is you spend someone else’s money and then want the bank to increase their credit so you can spend more. 

Anyway, for those politicians worried about “paying our bills”, how many bills would that Ukrainian money cover? 

Finally, one last thought: do you realize we are borrowing the money (and paying interest on that money) we are sending Ukraine? If Ukraine is a good investment, Ukraine should take out their own loans, or at least sign a promissory note to the US taxpayers. 

Mr. LePew is in the House.

We went to a local pizza joint last night for dinner. The food was great. The service was wonderful. The price was...fair and competitive. The hostess that led us to our table stunk. Not at her job. Her body. She stunk bad. It was more than one day’s worth of BO. You could smell her when she walked nearby. It almost made one lose an appetite. 

I’m not sure, in today’s world where every possible thing is viewed as an offense, how a manager or coworker addresses a stinky employee?

If she worked for me I would find away, because that kind of odor drives away customers.

Another great one is gone

Another great musician has left the building. David Crosby has passed away. I have always enjoyed the Byrds and especially CSN.

No one can claim Crosby did not enjoy himself. His life  was the definition of hedonism.

RIP

and here we are

 Sorry about the old blog. I have been consumed with a long, for me, creative period and I have been actually writing. I have resumed work on an old story I started a decade ago. The story is just coming to me. I am even dreaming about what happens next.  I am 20,000 words in and I like where it is going. 

Is it any good? Probably not. Does it need a professional editor? Undoubtedly. I am enjoying living with these characters, even if they will never see the light of day beyond this bare mention in a most obscure blog. 

The old blog is a distant priority behind work and the story for now. Sorry about that. 

Tuesday Joke

For Michael’s birthday, his wife wanted to surprise him when he came home from work.

After some careful consideration, she decided to strip naked and wrap herself in saran wrap from her shoulders to her ankles.

Pretty soon Michael enters his house exhausted from a tough day at work.

He walks through the kitchen, places his lunch box down, and hears his wife say,

“Honey! I’m in the living room.”

Rounding the corner, he spots her all wrapped up in plastic.

After a quick peek,

he immediately says,

“Leftovers again!”

A post for me

Today would be my dad’s 85th birthday. 

I miss you, Pop.

Of pots and kettles

It looks like Biden stashed top secrets documents in a closet, in his garage, and the laundry room. His first excuse was he didn’t know he had them. That reinforced the whole “he’s senile” perception. Now the White House claims that the documents were accidentally packed because aides were in a rush in the closing days of the Vice Presidency. 

Really? Biden knew for two months four years he had to vacate the Blair House and his office. It seems like his exit from the VP office was executed with the same foresight, planning, and lack of success as the withdrawal from Afghanistan. 

And Biden had the temerity to claim Trump was irresponsible. Trump admitted he had documents. He just believes they were his. Biden just hid his until after the mid-terms. 

Of course, both are mere amateurs when it comes to keeping secret papers. They should have checked in with Hillary on how to really hide a stash. 

Acting Out

We went to see the new Tom Hanks movie last night. If he isn’t the greatest actor since Spencer Tracy, I don’t know who is. 

Hanks is a true once in a generation talent.

The movie is terrific.

Fridayliscious

 Happy Friday. It is still dark. It is the expected January cold. It could be worse. 

There the normal blog start is done. 

I feel lousy today. Not your problem. I’ll be fine. 

I have routine stuff to do today — submit expenses, paperwork, blah, blah. 

Yes, my life really is this boring.

How about a little music to get the day going?

the great ones are dying off

Jeff Beck, one of the great musicians of our time, has passed away.  The world is a little less colorful today. 

If you are not familiar with his work, I suggest you head over to YouTube right away.

Evaluating Memories

I have a call scheduled with my boss this afternoon for my annual performance review. I’m not too worried about it. Clearly he thinks I’m doing OK, since he protected me from the end of year layoffs. Of course there will be things I need to do better. I hope there are things he believes I do well.

Reviews are interesting. I have not had a performance review for twenty years. My last company didn’t do them. Everyone in the company got the same raise, if one was given. Yes, it was run by New York liberals. There were no merit raises. 

I would venture my best review, as in very well done, was by probably my worst boss. It was thorough, and provided examples. That was back in the early 1990s. I still have a copy somewhere.

Back when I had direct reports I used to start the process with an explanation of my grading criteria. If the scale was 1-5, I rarely gave out fives in any category. I also rarely gave out ones, I believe if someone is performing that far below expectations I should have already addressed it. 

At one company I had an employee who did her job better than the rest of my employees. She was on-time, her work product was perfect, she took responsibility and helped out proactively. She had a shitty attitude about life, and probably with reason, but it didn’t affect her job performance. As far as work, she came close to getting fives. Pat didn’t do small talk, she wasn’t gregarious, she would not go on break with her co-workers,  she just did her job and did it well. She wasn’t someone you would hang out with, but she was very good at her job.

On her “self-assessment” portion. Pat listed she had no goals. She had nothing to improve. Marked everything average. All Pat wanted was to come to work, do her job, and get a paycheck. She made that clear. Her responses enraged the HR manager. When it came to raises, HR wanted to give Pat nothing. I wanted to give her the highest percentage of my budgeted increase in the department. To me, Pat was great at her job. To HR, Pat had a bad attitude. Finally, I reached a compromise with HR. Pat had to redo her self-evaluation and “take it seriously “. 

I wasn’t surprised when Pat told me “fuck it, keep your raise” when I explained the situation. Later that afternoon she brought me a revised evaluation. That experience has colored my attitude of HR mangers since. 

And I still think self evaluations are pointless. I filled mine out last week.

Don’t Look, Ethel

So Biden took Top Secret Documents after he was VP and carelessly left them in a desk. 

I suspect the outrage from the press and Democrats (redundancy warning) to start immediately  never. Only Trump is held to a higher standard. 

My agreement is done with Really Big Customer. It shouldn’t be that easy. Now I think I left money on the table. I gave less than I budgeted, leaving room for negotiations that didn’t happen, so maybe I just hit that very narrow win-win the books talk about. Maybe I’m just good. Maybe the other guys just didn’t want to argue. Who knows?

Starting tomorrow the primary street that feeds my neighborhood and several others will be cut off from the main highway. A major rebuilding project has been ongoing for years to the highway, with one interchange left. Now they have run out of money. So tens of thousands will have to drive miles out of the way to eliminate a stoplight that has been there for decades. An estimated 67,000 people use that intersection every day, but we are just going to close it until they do rebidding this fall. That means at least 2024 or 2025 until the new elevated roundabout will be complete. Sorry, it sucks to be you taxpayer. 

We have money for a new art center and bike trails no one uses, but the funds are just not there for a damn street. Oh, and sucks to be you small business owners in the strip malls that line both sides of the highway. And the only other way into the stores and neighborhoods goes through school zones. That’s a great idea, feed traffic through schools. 

F-ing bureaucrats and politicians.

Enough rambling on about nothing, I have to get to work. I have a long commute. It is all of two steps from my office recliner to my desk. 

can’t be bothered

Good morning. We find ourselves on a gloomy Sunday. I wish I could report a fun and active weekend so far, but that would be a lie. I accomplished absolutely nothing yesterday. It was the very definition of a lazy day. I sat on the couch, a veritable couch potato all day, occasionally dozing and flipping channels. I also read a bit. I was too lazy to wander upstairs to grab the iPad to post random nothings to waste precious seconds of your day. I thought briefly about going for a walk, but discarded that notion quickly. Lazy. I did sit n he opposite side of the couch for a while. 

I wish I could tell you I have big plans for an active and productive Sunday to make up for my wasted Saturday. Nope. I will throw a chuck roast in the Crock pot later, so theoretically I can claim I will spend the afternoon cooking. I will watch some football. I might think about fooling around with the wife, but certainly my thinking about it will be as far as that notion goes. 

I have serious nothing to accomplish today and I can’t let this blog stand in the way any longer this morning. 

Enjoy your Sunday.

Oh, Judge!

 Here we are, Friday at last. I made my contract proposal to Really Big Customer yesterday with very little pushback. The little voice in my head says that means maybe I left money on the table. I gave up less than we budgeted, so I guess it will be OK. Of course, nothing is signed, so we shall see. 

As far as I know we have no plans for the weekend. I guess that means helping the wife put away the rest of the Christmas stuff. That means more trips to the attic.

Temperatures have returned to normal, no more 60s. So it goes.

This has been stuck in my skull since yesterday afternoon. Great blues, hilarious lyrics:

I see the future

 In a dark and hazy room, peering into a crystal ball, the Mystic delivered grave news:

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’ll just be blunt. Prepare yourself to be a widow. Your husband will die a violent and horrible death this year.”

Visibly shaken, the wife stared at the woman’s lined face, then at the single flickering candle, then down at her hands.

She took a few deep breaths to compose herself – and to stop her mind racing.

She simply had to know.

She met the Fortune Teller’s gaze, steadied her voice and asked:

“Will I be acquitted?”

I set my sights on Monday

 I scrubbed the outside of the house of Christmas decorations Monday. Last evening we took down the tree, boxed the ornaments, and removed the lighted garland from the stairs. There are still some Christmas decorations around the house, but the wife will put those away this week. The house is returning to normal. The bright cheery lights are put away in time for the gloomy days of January and February. 

In a like manner, the warm weather of the past few days will move east after today and seasonal temps will return. There is even a chance for snow on Thursday. 

The Republicans continue to beclown themselves in Congress. Democrats stick together like Gorilla Glue in a dipshit’s hair. Republicans eat their own. They truly are the Stupid Party, ever seeking to snatch defeat from the edge of victory. As much as it pains me to say it, Republicans are the Chicago Cubs of politics. 

The good news is that it is already Wednesday. I present my contract proposal to Really Big Customer tomorrow morning. My self-assessment for my annual review is due Friday, and I have an engineering review this afternoon to go over all of my open projects. 

I have no idea why I am blogging instead of working.

Have a great hump day.

its not the hippies, it is their grandkids

Back to work. I’m sitting in my new office chair; my Christmas gift from my wife. It is cushiony and comfortable. The back broke on my old one some months ago, so I couldn’t lean back. That made for long days. 

The tragedy at the NFL game last night reminds us the players are all humans, playing a game. My level of disgust for the Giants player who made “snow angels” while the Colts QB writhed in agony Sunday was increased in light of the carting off of a Bills player in apparent cardiac arrest last evening.  The Giants DE’s happy celebration Sunday afternoon on the sideline as he learned the Cots player was out of the game shows the brutal side of the sport. You are not human if you find joy in hurting someone. 

Speaking of disappointment and disgust, I increasingly find politics disagreeable. I hate both parties. The left continues with their tyrannical rule, their climate change hysteria will destroy our economy and way of life. And make no mistake, that is the goal. The right only wants to squabble among themselves, content for decades to be the minority party. Both only looking to make as much money individually as possible. 

We cannot win against the woke, leftist agenda. Already my 8 year-old granddaughter says stuff I cannot believe. She didn’t learn it at home. One generation already has bought in, and are indoctrinating the next. Old farts like me have no chance. I am glad I’ll be dead before they gain complete control. 

After watching the New Year’s celebrations I am not convinced the folks who put on the Times Square celebration really know what they are doing. They keep dropping the ball.

Lazy River of Life

 Good morning and happy new year readers. Since I failed to post yesterday, I guess we are not starting the new year off so well. Oh, it was no hangover, no overindulgence, no wild romps extending into the new day. Nope, I just didn’t want to post anything. 

It’s not you, it’s me. Ha ha.

To be fair, I accomplished absolutely nothing yesterday. I did shower. I’m not that much of a heathen. I didn’t even cook dinner, we went for Mexican instead. It was the most laziest of lazy days ever. I liked it. 

Today? We will see what transpires. I’m off work. I may take down the Christmas lights outside. It is supposed to be warm. Right now it is foggy. 

Have a great Monday. I intend to.