You will always have Tara

I love history (especially the Civil War), literature, and old movies. It may come as a surprise that I watched Gone With the Wind for the first time ever yesterday. I know that sounds crazy. I may be one of the last people of the Boomer age to say that. 

GWTW remains, if adjusted for inflation, the best selling movie ever. The original novel remains one of the best selling English language novels ever. I will confess I also have not read the book. 

I will say that the character of Scarlet could just be the biggest bitch ever in film. Rhett gave a damn far too long. 

I got the requisite lecture on racism before the film aired on TCM (on the Max streaming service). In this case there is a significant amount of racism in the film, but to portray that society in that time any differently would be wrong. 

I will say, tongue in cheek, Prissy deserved to get slapped for her voice alone. 

I’m surprised it isn’t a cheese jingle

How. about some eighties today?

Enjoy your Sunday 

I call her on the telephone, she says be there by eight

I fried up some breaded pork tenderloin  — a Hoosier staple — for supper last night. I also baked up some homemade mac & cheese. I don’t enjoy my own cooking much, but it was a pretty good meal on a hot Thursday evening. I would show you but blogger won’t cooperate. After dinner I settled on the couch and watched the Cubs trounce the Cardinals. Ho hum, ho hum.

It is Friday, I have a regularly scheduled conference call this morning with big customer number two. 

I’m not sure what the wife has planned for the weekend. I have some yard work need to do. 

How about we wrap this up with a little music? Have a great Friday.

Just a thought

Maybe the USWNT should focus a little more on soccer and a little less on politics…

An Open Scandal

Wikipedia 

 Artist George Romney’s favorite model was Emma Hart (née Amy Lyon). She started posing as a teen and was a sensation. Emma was a known mistress and consort for the rich and famous of British society until at aged 26 when she married Sir William Hamilton, British envoy to the Kingdom of Naples. 

In Naples Emma became a friend and confidant of the Queen, the sister of Marie Antoinette. She also met there the love of her life, Lord Horatio Nelson, who would become Britain’s greatest naval hero. 

Nelson and Lady Hamilton carried on an open affair, eventually moving into a London house together and having a child out of wedlock. 

After Nelson’s death at Trafalgar in 1805 Lady Hamilton was left poor and destitute. Without the status of her husband (he died in 1804 and left her very little in his will) and Nelson’s heirs ignored her. Lady Hamilton fell to heavy drinking and died penniless in Calais, France in 1815.

There is no doubt she was a ravishing beauty in her prime.  Lady Hamilton was portrayed by Vivian Leigh in the 1941 film That Hamilton Woman. 

sheep

It sure seems the Democrats in charge are determined to make USA a Third World Country. The California climate czar opined last week that it may be necessary for Californians to just accept that blackouts are a way of life if that meant implementing renewable energy sources. Ponder that. 

At the same time, experts are warning we do not have enough power in the grid, yet leftists are insisting we move to outlaw everything from gas stoves to pizza ovens. More demand equals less electricity. Just wait until we are forced into driving electric cars that all need charged. 

Now the Biden Administration is proposing new rules that will limit gas generators. No generator on the market currently will meet the stringent new emissions standards. 

The greenies are going to force us into rolling blackouts, then prevent you from providing your own power. 

I suspect that the politicians will keep their own power on. That’s the way it works with those f-ing  Commies. 

This is what you voted for. But hey, there are no more mean tweets. 

The Garbage Man Cometh

It is trash day and I can hear the hydraulic whine and diesel roar of the approaching truck. I have two bins curbside this morning, one with garbage, one with yard waste, primarily large cut up branches from the big willow in the backyard. Some are three or four inches in diameter that I cut into lengths to fit in the bin. 

I have no idea why you would care about any of this. 

What is in a name?

It is time for another pathetic post at this one minute time waster. I will forego the normal opening weather report. Unless you live here in Central Nativeamericanstan you will not care. If you do live here, you already know the forecast. 

Speaking of the Hoosier state, why are we allowing it to be called an offensive name? While we are busy changing the name of anything remotely offensive to anyone, why isn’t there a hue and cry to change the name of Indiana? It means land of Indians. While there is a significant number of residents from the Subcontinent in the state, I think the nomenclature stems from the aboriginal denizens. Something must be done. 

To more properly honor the Native Americans we should rename the state after one of the local tribes. It seems “Delaware” is taken. “Miami” would draw confusion with the city in Florida. “Kickapoo” is out, that name would generate too many juvenile jokes. We could call the area Shawnee, but in today’s environment, only those who used to be slaves are allowed to be honored. 

We could name the state “Walker” after CJ Walker, one of the first black female millionaires. We could call the State “Leviana” after Levi Coffin, one of the great conductors on the Underground Railroad, only he was a white guy. How about “Bird”, after one of the greatest basketball players ever? Never mind, Larry was as pale-skinned as Snow White. Well, the cartoon version of Snow White anyway. 

what he said

Dang

Since I was a young boy I have loved Jujubes candy. I dig me some Red Vines. I will always eat a box of Dots, but the tiny little Jujube was always my favorite. 

Even as an adult, my mom would buy me a box or two whenever she found some. She liked them too. In fact, besides cinnamon or gummy bears, Jujubes is the only candy I remember seeing my mom eat. 

I remember a time I met an engineer for a customer visit and he spied that bright green box of Jujubes in my car. “What are you, eight?” He asked. I laughed unapologetically. I like what I like. 

I have been unable in recent months to find Jujubes at my usual sources like Walmart or CVS. I figured it was a function of post pandemic shortage.

On July 4th we were visiting friends in my hometown and stopped by the little grocery there to pick up some diet grape Faygo*. There, in a bin, were a few boxes of Jujubes. My wife scooped three of them up. I protested, but she said I could ration them slowly to maintain my blood sugar. She knows how I love my Jujubes.

A little research explains why I have been unable to find Jujubes in my area. It seems they have been discontinued by the manufacturer. 

I wish I had rationed out my boxes a little more. 

* another brand getting more difficult to find. 

Hey grandpa, what’s for dinner?

 Last night’s supper: fried chicken, mashed spuds, gravy, fresh ‘maters from daughter’s garden, green bean casserole. 

I slapped some gravy all over that chicken breast after I took the picture. 

I’m not the world’s best cook, but I have my fried chicken and homemade gravy techniques down. Of course, neither is too hard to make. For the mashed potatoes, it is all about the butter, baby.

Live and Learn

I usually get my coffee pods from Walmart. The store brands are cheap and frankly, I like them. Sure, I like Maxwell House, but not twice as much which is pretty close to the price difference. 

A few weeks ago we were at the store and one of the big name brands, Folgers, was on sale. It was cheaper than the Walmart brand, or close anyway. I bought a box. Now I remember I don’t like Folgers. It is a matter of taste. Now I have about a month of crappy (to me) coffee to drink. 

When Gummy Grizzly Bears Attack

Wind and rain and a hail all swept down on the homestead yesterday evening around dinner time. It was a fast moving front and was gone in an hour or two, leaving behind cooler air and high humidity. I suspect you had weather at your house too. None of this is interesting. 

I do find it interesting that my readership has returned to normal levels with the turning of the calendar page to July. For the month of June my daily hits were anywhere from five to ten times normal. Instead of 15 hits on a good day, I was getting 150, give or take a zero or two as it suits the narrative. This trend continued throughout the month. There was no increase in comments, each individual post got the same average visits, but the blog hits each day were astronomical, at least for for me. It was probably average for you. I assume the bots were looking for something, the blogger algorithms were wracked, or some combinations of both. I don’t care, I am happy when anyone stops by, real or robot. The old ego likes getting fed. 

How about I exercise a bit of prose that popped into my head Friday while driving down the highway. It is always good to trot words and phrases around the arena before taking them off the leash. 

Iceberg clouds drifted haphazardly across an Arctic blue sky.

Yeah, I don’t know what it means either, but I like how it sounds. 

Kids and their cars

When I was a young man muscle cars were the rage. Nowadays, inspired by the nearly countless iterations of the Fast and Furious movie franchise, it is hot little Japanese branded cars the youth like to modify and race. 

Last evening I saw a perfect example. I was driving in the northern ‘burbs so I could not snap a picture. There was the little black Toyota, an aftermarket spoiler on the trunk, white flames painted on the quarter panel behind the front wheels, loud stereo thump, thump, thumping with amplified base. 

It was a Prius. 

Yes, all 98 horsepower inspiring fear and awe in the street racing community. 

The sad thing, as I thought about it later, was this optimistic young Paul Walker wannabe couldn’t even sit at a stoplight and race his engine — you know; batteries. 

I really, really wish I was making this up for entertainment purposes. 

Look it up yourself

For outright sex appeal and drop-dead beauty you cannot beat late fifties or early sixties vintage Liz Taylor. Check her out in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Cleopatra, or Suddenly, Last Summer. 

Oft-admired Marylin Monroe is a hometown slattern in comparison. 

German Press Agency/Corbis

something to think about

If that mysterious baggie in the White House Situation Room contained anthrax rather than cocaine, do you think the Secret Service would tell us they have no idea how it got there or who brought it? 

Me neither.

Crash Course in High Speed Aviation

I knocked off work a little after five yesterday evening. I moseyed downstairs and was sitting on the couch ignoring the explosion of dolls and doll clothes littering the living room floor that hurricane granddaughters had left in their wake.

Suddenly, I heard a loud thump on the front door. As I walked into the entryway I noticed a large smear of bird poo on the transom window. I opened the door and lying on the porch was a robin. He had bounced a good two feet. He was young, his chest spots just starting to turn orange. Apparently, he had careened head-on right into the window at full speed like an avian James Dean. 

I don’t know if the bird defecated on the window in an aw crap I’m gonna crash moment or if the  impact knocked the shit out of him. In any case there was a lot of goo on the window. 

I left him lying there in the very small chance little Rockin’ Robin was merely stunned. Alas, Robin Redbreast was dead when I went to clean up the stiff after supper. The flies and ants were already at work when I dropped him in a plastic WalMart bag. Nature is relentless. 

i need to cut the grass anyway

I will open by claiming I won’t divulge the contents. There. 

I had the weirdest dreams last night. I usually cannot remember whatever I dream, but these dreams are still fairly clear in my mind this morning. As I said, I’m not going to describe the contents, there is nothing more boring than someone else’s dreams. It was nothing nefarious, nothing pornographic, nothing interesting. Trust me. I only comment because I rarely dream and even more rarely remember the dream at all. 

We are considering a short weekend road trip, the wife doesn’t have the girls Friday and we thought we might do something. It appears most of the drivable part of the country is going to have rain. At least anywhere we might want to go.We thought about getting Cubs tickets, but I’m not going to pay the ridiculous Wrigley gate cost only to watch the infield tarp collect rain water. Add in the cost of a hotel and it seems like a busted weekend. 

We considered the Florida panhandle or Lake Michigan beaches but face the same rain issue. As an added disincentive, we won’t have a ton of extra cash to spend once we get wherever we will not end up going. So I will work Friday and we will spend a boring weekend at home. Where it will rain. I will save precious hotel points and we wont spend money we shouldn’t. A lose/win proposition.

The Truth Hurts

Stolen from here.

 

At the movies

Two older gentlemen, Fred and Sam, went to see a movie.

Merely minutes into the movie, Sam heard Fred rustling around.

It appeared that he was reaching under all of the seats.

“What on earth are you doing, Fred?” asked Sam.

Fred indignantly responded,

“I had a caramel in my mouth and it dropped out. I’m trying to find it!”

Annoyed, Sam told him not to worry about it — they could get him another caramel later since that one was ruined by now.

“But I’ve got to,” said Fred, exasperated.

“My teeth are in it!”

Cathartes aura

When I went to bed last night I had a great idea for today’s post. It was flip and pity and...lost in my dreams. So it goes. Yet again your subscription price was wasted. Perhaps in need to institute a “True Scouts in Action” type feature where loyal readers write in their Hoosierboy-like adventures to fill content. 

Should I be concerned? There is a vulture sitting in my big willow staring at my back door this morning. I first saw him yesterday. I turned the corner out of the cul-de-sac and he was right there in the street eating what was left of what I think was a bunny. The turkey buzzard reluctantly hopped over the curb and out of my way, but gave me a look of disdain as I drove past. Now, he is perched n my backyard and staring at my patio door. Does he know something I don’t? The raven might say “never more”, this guy seems to be telling me “bring it on, meat”. 

I think this is going to be a weird Sunday. 

don’t peek

In a metaphor stolen from some story I read once upon a time, the thunder sounds like god is bowling overhead as rain falls on the parched grass. I do not want rain, but we need it. Last night I decided I would venture to the farmer’s market this morning to find some ‘maters. Not in the pouring rain. 

Last evening I was passing through the channels, looking for something to watch and stumbled upon Jurassic Park; the first one. The movie was somewhere in the middle. The wife looked up from her iPad, watched a little, and said “I can’t believe we let the kids watch this movie”. 

Indeed, when our kids were small, we bought the move as soon as it came out on VHS. They had to be less than 10 when we let them watch it. We absurdly ordered them to “close their eyes” in the scary parts like when the guy gets chomped in the outhouse.  We were terrible parents. 

We drew the line at nudity or drug use in movies. But clearly violence was okay. What were we thinking? 

The curtains flew and then he appeared

I love mid-week holidays, especially when I take Monday off. Here we are Friday already. The weather is fine. I believe the wife is taking the grandgirls swimming today. I will have to work. As far as I know, we have nothing planned for the weekend. 

My new neighbor just started mowing his lawn. It is 7:15 am. He does this nearly every week. Personally, I find this a jerk move. It is far too early to bring that kind of noise. I might be wrong. 

I clearly am struggling for content today. Let’s have some music instead? Have a great day!

My first copy of this album was on 8-track. Later I got the vinyl.

Can’t you see?

I may have mentioned in passing that for the past year or so I have seen a retina specialist about small leaking blood vessels in my retinas. Thanks diabetes! He has lasered those bleeders to cauterize them closed. For the most part, things are under control. In fact, I was to go back in a couple of weeks for a routine checkup. 

Note the “was” in that past sentence. Saturday a couple of small floaters exploded into black lines across the vision in my left eye. These lines were then accompanied by a big black spot in the lower left corner. For comparison, if a floater is a pencil dot, this spot was a Sharpie. By evening my vision was cloudy and brown like mud. 

Since I’m no doctor, despite spending many nights over the years in a Holiday Inn Express, I could not know if my cornea transplant had failed or it was a retina issue. By Sunday my vision in my left eye was like looking through smoke or maybe a spider web. I called my regular eye doctor Monday to have her determine which specialist I needed to see. The verdict was transplants fine (good), but massive hemorrhages in the back of the eye. I could get in to the specialist on Wednesday. You know why the delay — Fireworks Day. 

This post is going on too long. In summation, my vitreous gel separated right where one of those last little bleeders was located, tearing open the blood vessel. The doc took a needle and poked it in my eye to stop the bleeding with magic medicine. My vision should clear in X number of days. Then, after things clear up a bit I go back next month for more fucking laser treatments. 

I ain’t blind. Not yet.

Fortune Teller

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?”

On this day...kinda

 

Easy Potato Salad

I’m on vacation today. That means from this blog too. Listen to some music instead of reading my nonsense.

Observations on the human condition

Anecdote is not data, I understand. 

The oldest granddaughter (8) participates in a summer swim league. The suburban neighborhood pools compete against each other. Yes, it is a thing. The teams around here are from 4-14 years old. Boys compete against boys, girls against girls in each age class (7/8, 9/10, etc.). The season consists of dual meets, pool team vs. pool team. 

Thursday was the big final meet, all of the teams competed in a big invitational-type tournament. There were hundreds of kids competing in the high school pool. Here is the thing, in every single age class, in every different stroke, the boys’ average times, and especially winning times, was faster than the girls’. I will leave it to you to draw your own conclusions about trans athletes and sports. *

One final observation. The teams are coached by high school kids for the most part. At the end of the tournament there was a coaches’ race. In this one, the race was not segmented by gender nor age. The male coaches won every single race. a couple of the female coaches from granddaughter’s team are varsity swimmers on the Carmel High School girl’s swim team. They lost to the boys as well. 

So what, you say? The Carmel girls swim team is No ordinary program. You read that right, if you clicked the link, thirty-seven straight years. Reagan was President the last time someone else won. Ponder that. They still lost to the teenaged boys. 

Tell me again that gender is a construct. 

*yes, some of the girls beat some of the boys’ times that is not what I wrote.

The Answer is Blowin’ in the Wind

Thursday evening a storm front raced through bringing 70+ mph winds in straight line fashion. Trash cans blew, shingles flew, and branches and trees fell. Somehow, the dying big willow survived without any large branches falling. It was my maple in the front yard that took a beating. The whole middle section and top broke and crashed down. The mess was too big for me to deal with, so we had to hire a guy to cut down the broken branches and haul away the detritus yesterday.

Those of you incensed over the SCOTUS affirmative action decision should read Justice Thomas’ decision. Those of you pushing the reparations agenda better pay attention, that issue is the flip side of the same coin and will run afoul of the Constitution in the same manner. If you thought the Sons of Liberty were angry over a three cent per pound tax in the Boston Tea Party, wait until you try and force me to pay people who were never slaves my hard earned money when my ancestors did not own slaves and fought to great hazard of their life to end slavery. 

While I am on the Court, the decision on student loans was right also. Sure I would like my parent loans wiped away. I want my kids debts erased. It shouldn’t be at the expense of the rest of America. If the government wants to help borrowers, lower the interest rate, get rid of the capitalization of interest on the government loans. That is what is killing people financially. 

The big neighborhood fireworks shindig is slated for tonight. We will see if the weather cooperates.

Happy Saturday.