The reasons for war are complicated. One cannot simply cite that Germany invaded Poland and started WWII. Why did Germany invade Poland? If we dig deeper we find the harsh reparations of WWI caused many of the factors that led to WWII. And many of the issues that surrounded the Franco Prussian War instigated WWI and so on and so on.
When we look to the Pacific and Far East of the 1930s we see issues that led to the bombing of Pearl Harbor. It was not that Japan decided they wanted to start a fight with the US. That kind of pure aggression would have been crazy in either a person or a nation state. I am going to focus on one of the strands of the gordian knot that is WWII. And believe it or not, there is a modern political point I want to make. To get to that point I will have to undertake some background as much for my own clarity as anything. And yes, I can see your eyes glazing over in boredom already.
This isn't classroom history, there will not be a test and there will not be a list of dates and names to remember. It is Hoosierboy history and I hope to make it moderately entertaining. I will do my best to refuse to go down the various paths and tunnels that open up via my historical ADD and endeavor to stick to the main point. As always, I am certain there will be inaccuracies and errors and I welcome correction in the comments. Stay with me for a little bit and this long post will have a point. A long-winded point for sure, but that is my way. You should know that by now.
In the late thirties Japan was embroiled in a war with China. We will not get into the weeds with a discussion on that nasty bit of business, but only a passing mention that the aggression in China predates Hitler's European expansionism. If you want more information look up "Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere". I would have opted for a better and more accurate name for the doctrine had I been in charge of Japan like "What's good for Japan is good for the rest of you East Asians because we said so" or something similar.
Anyway, the Japanese were thrashing China like a schoolyard bully and worse (see Nanjing). In response, the good old US of A slapped an embargo in imports of oil and scrap steel to Japan.
So what you ask?
Japan is slightly smaller than California. A beautiful country, it lacks the natural resources of the Golden State. In particular, to feed their early twentieth century burgeoning manufacturing and increasing demand for war materiel, Japan needed oil and steel. Guess what pre-war nation had loads of oil and cheap steel? Ta-da, the greedy Americans. Our exports supported the Japanese economy. To show our disapproval of Japan's on-going nastiness in China we said we won't ship you anymore oil and scrap steel so suck it up Tojo.
Japan looked around and noticed that Malaysia and the Philippines and Vietnam and many of the countries in Southeast Asia had resources Japan could use. Much to Japan's chagrin, other countries like the British and French and the Dutch and the Americans were already sucking up those natural resources. Sure, Japan reasoned, we could just go and take what we want; all of those other countries have their hands full fighting that Hitler guy and the powerful German military machine. Who is going to stop us?
Wait, they discovered, those boys over in America are not at war. What if the Americans decide to intervene? "We cannot win a war with the United States long-term," said the military experts. Heck, the Japanese military leaders thought (but would never ever ever say it aloud), we are having issues subduing the backwards Chinese and Koreans.
One bright fellow said how about we destroy their navy? Either we will hurt them so bad it will take years to recover or maybe, if we are lucky, the Americans decided the pain is not worth the fight and we can work out favorable terms? We have nothing to lose, he reasoned. So the Japanese army and navy drew up plans to take over the Pacific and Southeast Asia in one fell swoop. They devised secret plans and camouflaged their training; a waste of time since no one was really looking anyway. The Europeans were embroiled in their own war, most of the Australian army shipped of to fight for the British in Africa, and the Americans were being Americans, too busy watching and secretly making side bets on that big to-do in Europe.
Then Surprise! on December 7, 1941 (I know I said I would not clutter up this already too-long post with dates, but that one is important) and the Japanese attacked our fleet at Pearl Harbor Hawaii and sunk a good chunk of the important ships. Except the aircraft carriers were not at home and the Japanese said "Oh Crap" and hightailed it to see what would happen next. What happened was lots of death and destruction.
Why am I telling you all of this interesting but perhaps not yet obviously pertinent information? Well I am glad you asked. Let's fast forward about 85 years. The big dog in Asia is now China. Their manufacturing plants spew out cheap goods of various quality levels ranging from excellent to poor. Many of those goods are shipped to the US to the tune of around 500 billion dollar's worth. That is about 15% of China's economy. To put that in scale, Walmart would be one of China's top ten trading partners if it was its own country. Don't think Target or any of your other favorite stores are any different (hello Family Dollar).
What do you think the world's second largest economy (and second largest military) will do when Trump slaps a 60% tariff on Chinese goods? They will certainly retaliate. Half of our soybean exports go to China. It is estimated that US exports to China account for 1.1 million US Jobs. China dominates the supply chains for critical and everyday goods into the US. China will not take destroying 15-20% of their economy laying down. In the best case, everything you buy will go up in price. A lot. Domestic and other foreign manufacturers will not be able to cover the increased demand and prices will soar. No one, even the Communists, can escape the immutable law of supply and demand. You will pay more for goods, supposing you can get them. Think inflation sucks under Biden? Try on Trump's tariff plan.
The worst case scenario is the Japanese approach from the last century. Desperate countries strike out. The last thing the Chairman wants is a billion hungry and angry Chinese peasants. Tiananmen Square scared the pants off the Communist Party in China. They are not going to let some stupid Americans foul up the works.
Whether we like it or not, since the fall of the Soviet Union, a big chunk of the world is sick of the United States lording it over everyone. Plenty of nations would not mind seeing our country reduced a size or two and if China started it, would certainly like to get in a kick or two while we are down. Can anyone be certain the French or Germans or Japanese would join in on our side? They may not jump to China's aid, but I bet there would be a bunch of neutrals out there.
History never repeats, but it does offer lessons.
In 2001 Muslim fanatics attacked the United States killing thousands.
Hamas and their supporters cheered in the streets.
Open borders and unfettered immigration is allowing who knows what potential terrorists into the country.
Never forget.
These are some of the policy positions Kamala Harris has supported:
Ending ICE
Increased taxes
Forced EV mandate
Ending fracking
Reducing drilling on Federal lands and voiding existing oil leases
Mandatory buyback of guns she finds scary
Free healthcare for all including illegal immigrants
Taxpayer funding for sex change operations for illegals in detention
Defunding police
Decriminalized drugs — including marijuana, heroin, crack, fentanyl, cocaine
Abortion right up to the moment of birth
If these seem reasonable and good ideas, vote for Harris. If you are appalled then you need to vote against this nonsense. I said it below, the election is about policies, not personalities. Vote accordingly.
There is one position Kamala Harris has yet to flip and flop on. Although to be fair she hasn’t flipped and flopped her spokespeople say she has, she’s not talking. That way she can go back to her far-left nut job positions as soon as she’s elected. Harris will anyway, she’s a lying politician just like the rest of them. Of either party.
Anyway, Harris will let the current tax cuts expire. Your taxes will go up. Yes, it wasn’t just the rich who got a tax cut when Trump was in office last time. You got a tax cut. Of course, in typical Democrat fashion they do not consider it a tax hike, after all, as far as they are concerned, you are just paying what they deemed was their money to spend all along.
So while you are considering the 25% more you’re paying for everything, be prepared to roll in a tax hike in your budget.
This isn’t an election about personalities, it is about policies..
It always is.
I backspaced over the entirety of my post this mourning before I hit publish. It was unimaginably negative, even for me.
Did you ever watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Yep, it’s the mean reds.
It is an another chilly day to start the week. The always accurate weather people on the local news promise summer will be back with 90F temperatures later in the week.
The grandgirls spent the night last night. We had a great time. We had Mexican from their favorite place for supper then came back and played games until bedtime.We are going to have fried biscuit donuts for breakfast. They like to help form the donuts.
The NFL is back in action today. Csn the Colts end a decade of opening day losses? I am not confident they can. So it goes. Life is better when your team wins, but it doesn’t really matter in the long run.
I’ve been a life-long Cubs fan. I’ve come to expect a high level of losing in my favorite teams.
Have a great Sunday.
I’m just not in the mood to perpetuate the normal flippant time wasting garbage I normally post at this here website.
Instead I offer up a forgotten but certainly not obscure bit of 70s glam rock:
Way, way back when this blog was young I used to have a feature called the Friday Five. I created the definitive list of stuff and ranked the results. If I remembered correctly, you hated it. You did not comment anyway. Since what I really want is an argument discussion, lack of feedback made me let it die.
Until now.
Yes, Dear Readers, I’m bringing back the Friday Five. I can feel your excitement.
This week- the five best Clint Eastwood movies.
1. Outlaw Josey Wales
2 Pale Rider
3. Dirty Harry
4. High Plains Drifter
5. A Fist Full of Dollars
I’m not going to lie, I really like Every Which Way but Loose, Trouble with the Curve*, and Heartbreak Ridge.
I suspect some of you will prefer Unforgiven.
Make your arguments in the comments.
*This didn’t do well at the box office but I liked it. It’s a baseball movie.
This older couple were sitting on the front porch in their rocking chairs talking about how they could save money on various necessities.
All of a sudden, the old man reached over, grabbed the woman’s breast and said, “You know, if these gave milk then we could get rid of the cows.” The old woman didn’t say anything so he moved his hand.It is chilly in the office this morning. Outside it is a mere 53F and inside it is cool enough I pulled on a sweatshirt. I was cold in yesterday’s shorts and T-shirt. Now I’m too hot. Clearly, I’m in Goldilocks mode. I need the temperature to be just right.
Need may not be accurate. Want is a better word. I want lots of stuff, but we all know what Mick and the boys said — you can’t always get what you want.
I have checked, but I know I have a bunch of work emails waiting. My phone beeped alerts all evening. For once I ignored them. They will be waiting when I log on.
I can hear the neighbor’s dog barking and barking. Why they cannot hear it is an enduring mystery. Perhaps they are in the shower. Maybe they are grabbing some morning nookie. It might be they are at a critical point in egg cooking. Perhaps they are mesmerized by Kamala Harris rhetorical skills.
Ok, I crack me up.
I think I have settled on the title of my next piece o’crap novel. I won’t share it because I’ve changed it five times already. It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s only half done with no prospect of finishing anytime soon.
The good news it is Hump Day already!
Have a great Wednesday.
What? You expected something substantial? You were sure you would be enlightened by words of wisdom and philosophical thought? You expected political analysis and keen historical insight? Is it your first time reading this blog?
I have been plagued by weird and vivid dreams the past few nights. Worry not, I’m not going to relate them here. This blog is boring enough without getting into dream nonsense. Freud must have had a streak of masochism to sit and listen to his patients’ dreams. No thanks.
Since it was a cool evening we had potato soup and BLT sandwiches for supper last night. Guess what is for lunch? Potatoe soup is always better the next day.
That’s it go forth and be productive.
This fits the weather theme. This was the hot local band when I was a teen. Too bad they never made it big.
It is Monday yet I’m not at work. It is a holiday! You knew that. You will find the obvious stated as if was great revelation here today. The sky is blue. It is cool outside.
Sheesh. I would backspace this whole garbage pile of a post and start over if I had anything better to write.
I did not so clearly I do not.
I can put up this video however:
Have a great day.
It looks to be a great day. Since it is a long weekend it is almost like an extra Saturday and we are treating it as such, heading off to hang with some friends.
Other than the opening paragraph I’m not feeling it today. You will have to settle for some music.
This is a little-heard track from pre-famous John Cougar. You know, that Mellencamp fella.
Have a great Sunday.
So why do we need to give first time homeowners $25,000 to help buy a house when you can get a zero down FHA loan already?
More importantly, where is MY $25 grand? Why should Kamala take my money and give it to someone else? I could use a chunk of cash to pay on my mortgage.
Starting tomorrow my first novel Suburban Moon will be discounted in the ebook format. If you have not read it and want to give it a try, you can get a few hours of mediocre entertainment for less than a buck. You can even score FREE e-reader. Who doesn’t like free?
Leave a review once you finish. Please note, I’m a big boy and a tough review does not bother me.
What did you say?
Well, it is off topic but I suppose we could listen to some Friday music while you jump over to make your purchase.
So Kamala needs to bring along a chaperone to her taped/edited CNN interview (with pre-submitted questions?) so he can mansplain her positions.
Whatever.
A three year-old was murdered along with his stepfather Monday Night. It was the little guy’s birthday.
There were weeks of outrage and thousands marched in protest when a criminal died resisting arrest. Cities burned.
Where is the protest, where is the annger over the slaughter of an innocent baby?
Why isn’t there a cry of “enough!”?
Someone in the community knows who did this. There should be enough people fed up, sickened, tired of it all to force the perpetrator to justice.
Where is the outrage?how many tears have to be shed?
I was walking through the Walmart parking lot last evening. A car drove past. The driver was all alone in the car and wearing a mask.
Whatever. I’m not sure who is going to infect you in your own car.
Perhaps she has an autoimmune disease and is taking extra precautions as opposed to being a panic-stricken nut.
It is no contest. From Russia with love is the best Bond movie.
Period.
Likes and dislikes are a personal thing and you may disagree and have your own favorite Bond flick.
You would be wrong.
BTW, it is the best of Fleming’s books too (and I include Chitty Chitty Bang Bang).
PS if you vote for Moonraker we can no longer be friends.
The boss says I need to think about my next company vehicle in the coming months. The lease on the Grsnd Cherokee is up on January. I have had a company car since 1989. This is the only company that lets me choose the vehicle. Usually, but not always, color is my only option. Rest assured I would never ever have chosen that crappy baby blue Taurus I had to drive for about five years in the past.
Yes, before you roll your eyes, I absolutely know how great it is to have a car supplied to me. It isn’t free, personal miles are expensive, but I can put wear and tear and miles on someone else’s car.
Not that you care about any of that.
You came for Friday music. I said you came for Friday music. Don’t argue with me. This is what was playing when I pulled in my driveway:
Have a great Friday.
So the Biden/Harris government has been bragging for the past year that the economy is WAY better than us plebes believe. After all, they claim, they have added more jobs than any president in history.
Except it was a big fat lie. The labor department just dropped a giant “sorry about that” fart in the bread aisle and announced they over-estimated the new jobs by a mere 800,000 plus. That is a 28% reduction.
The last time there was an adjustment this big was back when Obama was president.
Is there a pattern here?
I did not watch a single second of the Democratic National Convention last night. I don’t need to, I read Karl Marx in college.
Lest you think me a partisan hack, I did not tune in to the Republican Convention either.
I’m late to the old blog this morning. I had the annual “it’s time to sign up for insurance and benefits” work meeting early this morning. As usual the meeting didn’t go well and remote users missed out on most of the content for technical reasons. I do on-line meetings multiple times a week without issue, HR needs to do it once or twice a year and screws it up every time. There is another meeting later this afternoon I will attend if my monthly sales meeting ends on time. That is a big IF.
We separated out the automotive sales group and industrial sales group monthly meetings earlier this year in an effort to shorten the meeting. Somehow the discussion still goes two plus hours. If the industrial meeting only goes two hours today I can still listen in on the benefits call. That will be three hours straight of on-line meetings.
Some days it is good to be me.
We had a great weekend despite dodging brief bouts of rain both Saturday and Sunday. We went to the granddaughter’s soccer game Saturday morning then to a concert Saturday night. We got wet, but so it goes. The concert was great. I am not sure why we don’t go to more shows. One of the better outdoor venues in the country is about 15 minutes from my house.
Sunday I mowed the lawn and generally lounged around.
I need to get a coffee refill — I’m off to the break room or what you probably call “the kitchen.”
In those barely post dinosaur days, most venues had a live band as opposed to a DJ. There was a good band that served as the house band, at least that week. They played around the oool in the afternoons and in the club at night. One of the songs they routinely played in their set was this one:
I have always had a nostalgic feeling for the tune ever since.
I got a text yesterday from a number I did not recognize. The text asked “Guess who this is?”
Being me, I responded “A wrong number.”
Yes, I crack me up.
A few minutes later I was sent a picture of an attractive young lady.
I replied “Yep, wrong number.”
I blocked her.
It was for the best. I wouldn’t know what to do with something younger than my daughter. It was a scam anyway. The real caller was probably Ethel over at the nursing home looking to scam me for a few bucks. I have no illusions. I have seen both my reflection in the mirror and my bank balance.
I was sitting on the couch last night watching the Cubs lose yet another game when the idea for a good post plopped into my brain as if divinely inspired. Then I watched other drivel and slept and well, here we are. It is quite clear the inspiration slipped away into the place where all good ideas go.
I suppose the runaway post is sitting at some tropical bar surrounded by palm trees and the gentle sound of waves climbing the beach while drinking umbrella rum drinks along with the second half of my unfinished novel. I’m sure both are sharing a good laugh at my expense. “Look at his brain trying frantically to find us! Snort!”
“Order one of those frozen peach drinks!”
“No, I want a banana daiquiri.”
My vanished good ideas are assholes. I’m just sayin’. They always disappear when I need them most.
I picked up a package of thin boneless pork chops yesterday. I trimmed the fat and pounded them with a meat mallet even thinner. After I sprinkled them with salt and pepper I dredged them in a wash of eggs and milk I beat with a fork. I then coated the pork in Ritz Cracker crumbs. I covered the bottom of a big skillet with vegetable oil and after it was hot, fried up the breaded tenderloins. A pan of homemade Mac and cheese and a can of green beans made for a decent Sunday dinner.
After dinner I put the dishes into the dishwasher. The wife was outside messing with her flowers and I plopped in a chair on the be porch to read a bit in the perfect evening air. It was in the mid seventies with no humidity. This was not August weather for sure.
I surreptitiously checked out the wife as she bent over the flowers as the cicadas roared out their “I want sex” song in the maple tree.
When it started getting dark I washed up the pans and finished cleaning the kitchen. The wife was hanging up laundry when she walked over and gave me a kiss and said she loved me and it was a great Sunday.
There is a distinct fall-like feel to the air this morning. The sky is clear, but chilly for August. The weather readers say the high will only be in the upper seventies.
The youngest granddaughter has her first soccer game of the fall league this morning and with temps in the sixties I might need a sweatshirt.
I always have music playing in my head. Most of yesterday and last night it was this old favorite:
These days I wear headphones and listen to music while I mow the lawn. When I was a kid such a thing did not exist. I broke the tedium of mowing my grandma’s yard by “playing” music in my head and the intricate melodies and melodic structure of this song often kept me occupied.
Yes, my memory was better in those days, not only could I play back long musical pieces in my head, I could recite whole pages of books I read. I remember pretty well now, but the filing cabinets in my brain are stuffed with so much worthless crap that it takes longer to get access to what I need!
God blessed me with one gift: a better than average memory. My secret fear is that I will get a dementia type disease and it will all go away. Dementia and Alzheimer’s are the cruelest of diseases. I can think of nothing worse, mostly for my loved ones.
Friday!
That’s it, I have nothing more.
There was a thick branch in the yard yesterday. Its mottled appearance made it look just like a snake sunning in the grass (as viewed from an upstairs window).
Thankfully there are no wild pythons in Mudsock , Indiana.
Doubly thankful it was just a branch. I broke it in two and tossed it into the garbage can.
Here is some music for your Friday.
The area kids are back to school. The temperatures are lower than the normal August scorchers. NFL preseason games are started. Fall is rapidly approaching. It won’t be long before I’m complaining about taking leaves. On the bright side, perhaps one of the networks will debut something worth watching every week. There will be no post season baseball for the Cubs barring a winning streak of historic length. Again.
It is Thursday, I have faith I can hump it through yet another work week. I was talking with a buddy a few days ago. I admitted something aloud I had barely acknowledged myself; I think I could happily retire. Always before when I took a vacation I could not wait to get back to work. This time I’m having trouble getting motivated. This has never happened prior.
Of course retirement is no option at all unless I want to live in an old van down by the river. I suspect I will work until I die.
Most nights I turn on my Amazon Spy Speaker and listen to music quietly while drift to sleep.
It occurred to me last night that I now sleep to the music I used to party to.
 |
| Mine, all mine |
At the time, it was priced on the higher end of the spectrum and was considered a good cigar.
During this period I used to travel to eastern North Carolina on a regular basis. I usually flew into Raleigh and drove over to Greenville to the headquarters of my main customer. Not too far out of my way I could visit one of the outposts of the JR Tobacco company.
JR had these giant stores that sold pretty much everything at a discount, including cigars. You could get everything from clothes to books to perfume. But the heart of the store was cigarettes and premium cigars.
I often made the trip to JRs during my layover. I flew in one day, spent the night and flew out the next evening.
During one of these trips I picked up a box of H Upmann Chairman’s Reserve. They came in a beautifully crafted cedar box. I still use the box today to store my cigar smoking paraphernalia — cutters, lighters, matches, a small ashtray. That is my box in the picture, a little scuffed and worn.
I believe I bought this box of cigars around 2002 or 2003.
I tell you this because I still have a few of these erstwhile smokes in my humidor. You see, if I really like a cigar or if they were moderately expensive, I don’t want to smoke them. I keep them, often opting to smoke a cheaper or less quality cigar. Yeah, I don’t know why.
Well today is the day. I am going to have one of these fine H Upmanns. I doubt they taste the same as they did more than 20 years ago. They have been stored loose with a range of other cigars and are bound to have picked up other flavors. Tobacco also changes flavor as it ages.
Still, it will be a good thing to smoke an ancient cigar. After I share one with my buddy, I think I will still have two of the Chairman’s Reserve left. Maybe I’ll try them again in another four or five years.
Less you think this is a one-off, I have several others that I have in my humidor for more than a decade. Yeah, I’ll tell you like I tell my wife, it’s none of your business how many cigars I have in my humidor(s). The answer is not enough. I need more.
Big storms rolled through over night. Thunder rattled the windows and I could hear heavy rain bouncing on the skylight in the master bathroom. Oh, wait, I forgot we are not supposed to say “Master” when referring to a bedroom or bath lest someone whose great, great, great granddaddy was a slave and they become triggered to think they are now enslaved or something. Yes, this is how stupid the world has become.
After the trash man came on Tuesday, I went to drag the bin back into place at the side of the house. The bottom and interior was crawling with maggots and the bin stunk like a dead critter in Hades. It was gross. I sprayed bug killer into the bin and slammed the lid. A few hours later I washed the darn thing out. There remains a lingering stink around the can.
I don’t know if it was a long-repressed memory, but the whole thing triggered me — triggered me into gagging. I blame my great great grandma who was an orphan and probably had to root through the trash of New York City to survive. I suddenly had a repressed imaginary memory of her life. Oh, the trauma!
I suggest we ban maggots from trash bins lest I get triggered again.
Sounds dumb, right?
They say music soothes the soul, so here we go with some Friday music:
A deep cut. Have a great day. Let’s work on that maggot thing, alright?
I once won 1,302 straight games of free cell. My current winning streak is 11.
I once had a sales territory in excess of $35,000,000 per year. I am responsible for about $20 million in my current job. No, there is no commission.
I have flown approximately 1,000 times in a commercial airplane. I have driven well over one million miles. I could not even guess at the number of nights I have spent in a hotel room.
I have been to 16 countries and 45 states. I am on my third passport.
I have stuck at least a hand into each of the Great Lakes.
The first two times I was ever up in an airplane I jumped out. On purpose. With a parachute. I would go again.
I love zip lining. The idea of bungee jumping terrifies me.
I am very afraid of snakes. Spiders are a close second.
I am an Eagle Scout.
I wrote and published a novel. It is not great, but I did it.
The mascot of my high school was the Hot Dogs. Seriously. My college was Little Giants. Both are pretty dumb nicknames.
My first car was a 1966 Chevy pickup truck. I paid $400 for it.
The first “big” concert I attended was the Doobie Brothers. I am going to see them again in a few weeks.
I have been a janitor, a worker in a ketchup factory, a roofer, a librarian, a management trainee in a plastics factory, customer service manager, shift supervisor, master scheduler, general foreman, and salesman.
Did I mention I once won 1,302 straight games of free cell?
Apparently the only issue Harris can run on is killin’ babies.
The thing is, Congress could pass an abortion law. Could have forever. Could since Dobbs. It’s easier to scare women into voting for Harris. Of course the president can’t pass even one single law.
Instead they just blame the court for saying it is a State issue. BTW, SCOTUS did not outlaw abortion. If you claim that you are either ignorant or a liar.
So Biden thinks we need term limits for SCOTIS? Funny how that was never an issue when liberals were the majority, isn’t it?
Since term limits are the bomb these days, will Biden call for term limits in Congress? I mean if 18 years is enough, then…
I know, my side hurts from laughing.
Oh, Biden nor Congress can make term limits a thing for the Supreme Court. It will take a Constitutional Amendment. You see, in case you didn’t study civics in school, the Court, Congress, and Executive branches are Co-equal.
Besides, one would think, even for someone who graduated in the lower half of law school and who served his entire adult life in the service of the government., Biden would have a basic understanding of the constitution.
When we were on vacation, I think it was one of the comedy shows, and the host was asking if there were any newlyweds. He then asked if there were any anniversaries. Of course my shy wife admonished me to remain quiet. Being singled out by a comedian is one of her worst nightmares.
A couple nearby allowed they had been married thirty-some years. The comedian asked if the old couple had any advice for the young couple. The old guy replied with the old canard “never go to bed angry.”
That, my friends, is terrible advice. Look, when you are tired and mad you are apt to say things you don’t mean or maybe should not say at all. In an exhausted effort to end the argument you might just go for the kill. Some words you cannot take back.
I’m certainly no expert. What works for my wife and I may not work for you. Here is what I do know; most problems look better in the morning. Sure, there may not be a solution, but often you are over the raw emotion of the situation. Then rational thinking can come into play.
If you go to bed angry, you will likely still be mad when you wake up, but you can ponder your words, seek compromise, and remove the raw emotion from the equation. Often the light of day can illuminate a path through the obstacles and the mountain looks less imposing.
This true not just for relationships. Most problems look less insurmountable with a new day. Of course problems never go away, but you can better tackle them well-rested.
So yeah, go to bed mad. It might be better in the long run.
The Olympics have started and there has been significant electronic ink spilled over the drag queen opening ceremony. Rightly so. Further, the coverage from NBC leaves a bit to be desired so far. I suppose it is merely old guy grousing, but what does Snoop Dog know about sports and why is he sucking up so much air time?
Anyway, for the opening ceremonies, I turned it off. The boat parade was boring and thankfully I missed the disgusting drag show and Last Supper mockery.
I am reminded of a joke a German buddy once told me. Why are there trees along the Camp d’Elysee’? German soldiers prefer to march in the shade.
Somewhere in the archives there are several posts about my first visit to France. Perhaps I will repost some of them in the coming days.
Anyway, no one should be surprised by the leftist French hatred of the church and Christianity. I’ve said it here many times, if you want history to be a guide, then there is no better way to understand the leftist vision than to study the French Revolution. The very term “leftist” originated in that event. What the progressives wanted then is what they want now, and make no mistake, there are those in the fringe who would have no qualms at all about murdering you and I to get their utopia.
I guarantee more than one of your neighbors secretly wishes that assassin had been a little more accurate in Pennsylvania a couple of weeks ago. They don’t have the courage to say it out loud. It is an indication of how much they hate people like me and what I believe.
*Of course, in fairness, there were a lot of drivers in the French Revolution. One of them was the massive debt the government incurred loaning money, troops, and war materials to some rebelling colonies in the New World. When the political class started demanding changes, it was the radicals who took things way too far. So we Americans can be a bit to blame for what happened. Plus, two of the leaders in the early days of the French Revolution cut their teeth in the American War — Thomas Paine and The Marquis de Lafayette.
**I could fill the rest of my days of this blog writing about the history of the French Revolution. Years could not do it justice. I don’t have the will to do that much research and you certainly do not have the desire to read about it.
***The winners write the history, but Napoleon wasn’t attempting to take over the world as he is often portrayed. The idea that France overthrew the monarchy scared the bejesus out of Europe and succeeding nations declared war on France plus France was already fighting Austria when the revolution started.
According to Livability I live in one of the best places in the US. I think they have it backward, it is one of the best places because I live here. While Mudsock didn’t earn the top spot, it is in the top five.
Since most of you are probably not well versed on the geography of the northern Indy ‘burbs, Carmel and Fishers share a border in Hamilton County. I, in fact, live just on that line, so you might say I live in the very best place.
Yes, there are some unbelievable homes in this community. I, however, live in the cheap part of town, helping bring that average down.
Property is still comparatively inexpensive. The median house here would be at least twice that in many other areas.
Sure, we need some appropriate Friday music:
Grilled peanut butter on Wonder bread (same as a grilled cheese except, well, peanut butter* in the middle instead), pretzel sticks, and a diet Faygo grape soda.
*If you haven’t tried it you should. Add some ‘nanas for an Elvis special.
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| Click to embiggen |
It was an unexpected nature shot because the image I wanted to capture got away. There was a squirrel laying on the platform, his head resting on his paws relaxing like he was at the side of a pool in Hollywood or something. He was the definition of chillaxin’. I moved too quickly when I grabbed my phone from my pocket and scared him off.
Seconds after he left, the little yellow bird swooped down and grabbed a drink. Bird was probably glad I chased off the tree rat. “Stupid mammal hogging all of the water. “
*it is just a yellow bird. I don’t care enough to discover its breed. I am hot a big fan of birds in general. That squirrel, he is a hard ass. He will sit on the patio furniture. He’ll look in the back door. If animals had a name his would be Fonzie. The other day he was climbing the screen on the patio door. A few hours later he was on the roof looking in the window of my office. When the boy had his dog here, the squirrel would come up to the patio door and stare at the furious dog, teasing him behind the safety of the glass, confident he could be gone before we could get 5he door open to let the dog out. We have a hoodlum rodent.
So Biden is out. Freedom lovers all across the land should have wished the senile old coot stayed in the race. Now the election will not be about the economy, open borders, or disastrous foreign policy, but rather it will be about the wymens and the raysists, and the LBGQRSTers and killin’ babies. Suburban women and blacks will flood to the polls.
And for those of you concerned about soon-to be-forgotten Biden and his ability to communicate, you can have this to look forward to:
This woman polls lower than whale shit. Yet somehow people will vote for her — the same people who thought she was absolutely the worst choice for President when she tried to run four years ago. If she somehow beats Trump, she will be the first Affirmative Action President.
The wife said she wasn’t going to cast a vote for president, but she will now “so she can vote against that idiot.” I love my wife.
The Amazon spy speaker is giving me issues this morning. I can’t get it to play the music I want. I finally gave upon the new playlist and fell back on my old standby - 60’s rock. On the scale of things this is pretty minor.
I spent the morning yesterday watching old movies. I caught Butterfield 8 followed by To Sir, With Love. Let me state for the record, before the Hollywood excess, before age caught up, LizTaylor was drop-dead gorgeous. I’m talking the 1955-1965 version. I might watch Cat on a Hot Tin Roof today just see her walk around in a slip.
See what I mean? This is an image from Butterfield 8.
After I wasted the morning I spent the rest of the afternoon doing yard work, so Saturday wasn’t completely wasted.
Since I’m rambling here today, For What it’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield is playing. That song always reminds me of my youngest. I usually gave him his bath when he was very young, and I always sang that song to him in the bathtub. He knew all of the words!
The two oldest often got Civil War songs as their bath tunes. Both could belt the chorus to Marching Through Georgia. Yeah, it was a phase. I’d say the youngest benefited from the five year age difference.
That’s far more detail than you want or need to know.
Have a great Sunday.
It looks to be a perfect sunny summer day today. I suppose I will have to venture out later to do some yard work. I am in a lazy mood these days. I find little motivation to do anything. When I say anything I mean work, both the paying kind and the stuff that needs done around the house.
I did install a new shower head last evening, but let’s be honest, that is just about the simplest thing you can do around the house.
I’m blogging from a new iPad this morning. It is not really “new” since it used to belong to the wife. I switched out her girly cover for a plain black one I got at Amazon for $9. I have been using the old gen 1 iPad since March, when my old iPad Air died. I say “using” in the loosest possible terms. It would not access about half the websites I normally visit. I could not even sign into blogger from that old relic.
Blogging from my phone sucked. I wish I could blame the crappy content around here on that fact, but it was only partially to blame.
We got the wife a new iPad, so I got her hand me down. It was an upgrade for each, and yes, I am happy with how it worked out for both of us.
I intended to go politics free today. We all know how that goes. Let me say unequivocally, if you believe Trump staged that almost assassination, you are beyond dumb. I really do not want your stupidity to spread. Don’t breed. Have yourself surgically sterilized.
In fact, do us all a favor, don’t even come by here any more. You absolutely have the right to believe and say anything you want, no matter how incredibly stupid and ill-informed it may be.
Just not on my blog.
I have not written anything for my new novel in months. I am about 1/3 done. I have the last 1/3 written in my head. It is the middle stuff I’m struggling with.
I opened the file this week and am re-reading what I’ve written so far, editing a little as I go. Most of it I like. Some sections I think are above average, certainly better than my first book. It is more action, less navel gazing.
I’m no closer to writing the next third than I was two or three months ago. Maybe I’ll write the WWII section and fill in other chapters later. I don’t know. I wanted to finish the thing by the end of June. That was my goal when I started writing. Now I don’t know if it will be done by the end of the year. Maybe never.
But it is Friday. That is the good news.
You know what we need? Some Friday music.
My maternal grandfather and my paternal grandmother’s brother (my dad’s uncle) were in the same platoon at Great Lakes Naval Training Center in WWII.
Did they know each other before? They were from the same town. Who knows?
In any case one generation later the two families came together when dad married mom. Of course my grandmother and her entire large family hated my mother, so maybe the enmity came from those days at Great Lakes?
I always dig unexpected covers. Check out this version of Help! From Deep Purple.
Are you kidding me? Is really only Tuesday? I swear I thought it was Thursday already. But then if it was Thursday, I would have to sit through a two hour on line monthly sales meeting this afternoon, so I do get to escape that torture for a couple of more days.
There was lots of Trump talk throughout interwebz the past few days. Many expressed opinions far better than I ever could. I will say this, if you think the whole thing was staged you are an idiot. I’m surprised you don’t need written instructions telling you to breathe in and out.
Am I the only one who sees the coverage change slightly. Sunday there was a lot of questions on “how could this happen?” Now you are seeing less condemnation of the Secret Service already. I don’t care. I’m no gunnan. I never served in the military. Not covering the most obvious shooting site is incompetence at best.
Yes, back in the day I could put all of my shots into a two inch circle at 150 yards. But I never took a shot under duress and my target wasn’t moving. I bet yours wasn’t either. Trump is a lucky man. Trump is alive only through a turn of his head, a gust of wind, the hand of God. Maybe all three.
When Democrats and the press spend eight years saying Trump is evil, a danger to democracy, and must be stopped, then no one should be surprised when some nut takes the message seriously. How did this happen? Look in the mirror.
Dear Driver,
Have you always driven like an asshole, or did it start when you bought your Maserati SUV?
Oh, and a Maserati SUV is about as lame as you can get. I’ll say it.
One thing is for certain, no one is going to read this blog and think for even one second “I bet that is AI written.”
Only a human could write stuff this…mediocre and boring.
But here is some more eighties music.
Yes, I know calling the content of this site mediocre is generous at best.
We need some more warm eighties music to celebrate a summer Saturday.
We are off this afternoon to hang by the pool. Behave yourselves while I’m gone.
Good morning blog world. Be honest, do you feel better about old Biden after his mumbling screeching angry press conference yesterday evening. Sure he only misidentified the president of Ukraine and his own VEEP, but we all do that, right?
No we don’t. Dude can’t manage anything not on the teleprompter.
I’ve been working on a big spreadsheet with lots of macros, calculations, and XLookups. It gives me a headache and I am reasonably adequate in Excel. I thought this exercise was a one-off. Now the boss thinks I should update it every month. Anyway, I found an error right before quitting time yesterday, so now I have to recheck the darn thing line by line.
So yes, I’m blogging instead of working right now.
How about some Eighties music today? I e played this song before, but it is always worth a listen.
The wife’s alarm beeped for the third time at 6:00. A habit that has irritated me for forty years now. Just get up already. But it isn’t going to change. In the old days she would have her alarm go off every ten minutes for thirty or forty minutes before she got up. It was especially irritating when I worked second shift.
This morning she climbs out of bed and tells me she has to get the girls early today and oh, btw, she is out of gas could I go get her some? Another gust of wind splattered rain against the bedroom window. The sound covered my mumbled complaints.
I stood at the pump as a light rain lashed my back. The last remnants af Hurricane Beryl are moving on. On the scale of things, this is no big deal. I know she really hates pumping gas. We all have stuff we prefer not to do. I just wish she would have asked me last evening when there was a break in the weather.
Hurricane Beryl chased us around the Caribbean last week. We dodged and weaved like Ali and she never laid a hand on us. She was always a couple of days behind our ship. Somehow, Beryl is determined to rain on us, finally finding us a thousand miles inland. Drop your rain and move on. I get the last laugh, I had a great vacation.
Stranglehold is playing on my spy speaker this morning. I dig some Ted guitar, but it is somewhat jarring at six in the morning. Don’t get me wrong, back in the day I did plenty of rocking in the early morning hours. Mostly I was still up. That was long ago.
We went out for dinner with my daughter and her family last evening. The grand girls hugged my wife like crazy. I think they were glad to see me too. The wife has provided day care for both since they were born.
The youngest starts kindergarten next month. The wife is going to be lost. She will still watch them after school, but it is not the same as having them here all day.
Yes, I’m going to miss having a little one here too. Those girls saved my life when I was really down a few years ago. They kept me going. That and a lot of praying.
We are off to a rare Sunday pool day at our friend’s house this afternoon. It will be a fitting end to what has been a great vacation. Then it is back to work. More emails and issues than I care to think about await my attention.
Now I have to go pack up some stogies and get some ice for the cooler. Life is rough.
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| Not a pirate in sight |
So we took a little trip to celebrate our fortieth anniversary. Since my thoughts are always of you, reader, I made sure to can up some appropriate posts so you could get your daily fix of lousy entries from me. I’m thoughtful that way.
The cruise was a five day affair out of Tampa visiting Roatan in Honduras and Cozumel in Mexico. The weather was spectacular, but hot. We had a terrific time.
For the first time on a cruise we did not have an interior cabin. We did not get a balcony, but we did have a couple of portholes to let in light. Here’s the thing, we only use the cabin for sleeping anyway (yes only sleeping, dang it). An interior room has never bothered me.
The entertainment was good, the comedians meh, the food what I expected.
In Mahogany Bay we did some zip lining then spent the day on the beach. In Cozumel we snorkeled and then went to a beach. We had a great time on both excursions.
The drive to and fro Tampa went fine, we were delayed a bit for accidents on the highway both going and coming, but we’re only caught in the tail of the traffic jams.
What is up with bad drivers refusing to use cruise control? I’m not talking old beaters, but newer cars you know have speed control installed. If I could not hold speed better than that, I would not get behind the wheel.
I have driven in the range of a million miles. That is not an exaggeration. I spent thirty plus years as a traveling salesman. I can hold my speed pretty well . But the computer in my car can do it better. If you are that guy — speed up, slow down — just quit. You ain’t a good driver.
If I pass you and then you pass me and then I pass you again all in five miles, one of us is a bad driver. I have my cruise control on so it isn’t me. Do not be that guy. And stay the hell out of the left lane. If more than three cars pass you on the right, you are a tool.
Lecture done. Today I have a week’s worth of chores to do. Cut the lawn, pick up sticks, blah, blah. Too bad I have to work the rest of the year to have a great week of holiday.
So it goes. Some people don’t get that, I count myself blessed.
By the time you read this, the wife and I will be motoring home from what I hope was a great vacation. We took a Caribbean cruise and spent a couple of days in Florida to celebrate our anniversary. As far as past me knows, future me did not encounter any pirates of the Caribbean on this trip.
When the minister there at the Methodist Church said “forever” I didn’t know he meant this long..,
My wife doesn’t find that joke amusing.
Seriously, I’m lucky that I married my best friend. We have way more ups than downs, and contrary to several advice columns, I don’t feel like I have had to work at my Marriage much. Mostly, we save our infrequent arguments for stuff that is really important and let the minor stuff slide. After all, tomorrow is a new day.
Let me be clear, I know without a doubt, I am far more difficult to live with. The real me isn’t so different than blog me. Unfortunately.
Remember this old show?
I watched an episode Sunday evening. Wow it is cheesy. I dug the show back in the seventies, until they introduced the kid into the cast. What were they thinking?
As I padded down to the kitchen to throw a pod into the coffee maker early this morning it occurred to me that cardinals seem to get up early. The robins were a few minutes late with their morning chirps. As the morning sky erupts in hues of pinks and lavender, the avian gossip tree is in full voice. Chirp, chirp, chirp. At least the doves have taken their irritating cooing elsewhere so I don’t have to listen to that.
Speaking of irritating hooting, I won’t be watching the debate tonight. There is no chance it will be a real debate. The partisan CNN hosts will prop up Biden at every opportunity and Trump will make it all about himself. He is the ultimate self-centered me,me,me guy. It is never about the voters.
Biden? He is the poster boy for incompetence. The facts are in evidence all around. Is anyone surprised the president refuses to take a drug test? Of course he will be full of aderol or similar to focus his attention for a couple of hours.
Do you think athletes would voluntarily take a drug test if they had a choice? Don’t be naive. The president ain’t taking one either.
Since both candidates are turds as human beings, focus on the policies. Are things going great with Biden? Do you like open borders, inflation, disastrous foreign policy, nitwittery posing as green agenda? He’s your man. Biden promises he’s going to raise your taxes. It’s what democrats do. Not only does everything cost more under this administration, Biden is going to make sure you have less money to buy it. Sounds like a great plan. Well he will take your money and pay off somebody’s student loan. There is that.
Is he sarcasm font working?
You watch and let me know how it went, okay?
I woke up at 4:00 again this morning. I’m getting a little tired of it. It is like my body has adjusted to a new, most unpleasant schedule. It isn’t like I’m going to bed earlier either. For much of my life I operated on 4 or 5 hours of sleep. For the past decade or so I have done much better; around seven hours a night. I’ve popped awake between four o’clock and five o’clock nearly every day the past three weeks. What do you do? The downside is I fight the urge to dose in the afternoon.
In the other hand, this early rising gives me a topic to blog about. Anyone who has read this piece o’crap blog for long knows I really like to complain. Complaining may be my one true skill set.
Have a great whatever day of the week this is.
My morning routine is pretty simple and unvaried. I get up, throw on yesterday’s clothes and stumble downstairs to make coffee. I trudge back up the stairs, plop in the office recliner and peruse the interwebz. Then I do my best to crank out a post. That part is increasingly more difficult.
If the last thirty-seven years (hyperbole) of blogging are any evidence, I will get over it this spate of non-creativity. Every time I decide I’m done, finished, over it, I get a surge of “I need to write about that.”
So what? Indeed. How about some music?
It occurs to me that I might be one of four people in the world younger than 90 who actually likes ginger snaps.
A summer thunderstorm rolled through in the pre-dawn hours. A cold less hot front is supposed to follow. Of course, I cut the grass yesterday. I don’t mind. Generally speaking I’m fine in the heat or the cold. Sure I get hot, but I can survive. It is the same with cold. Don’t get me wrong. I prefer to be in the sir conditioning when it is 95 with 98% humidity, but sometimes life doesn’t give us what we want. If it did, a check for $500 would show up on my mailbox Monday.
I will get an electric deposit of $4.24 on the 30th. This is a royalty payment for selling a couple of books in April. Thanks to whomever bought my collection of words, sentences, and paragraphs. Hey, drop an me a review. I appreciate my reviews, but let’s be honest, I wouldn’t give it five stars and I wrote it!
Have a great Sunday.
I stared at the old blinking cursor for a bit today and decided instead of a weather report or something equally as boring I might try something a smidge creative on the old blog this morning.
Okay, “creative” might not be the best word, “innovative” perhaps? Maybe that is too ambiguous as well.
Look I was feeling lazy and I decided to cut and paste an old post from June 22 from the archives. Haha wouldn’t that be funny? Reality says “nope.” Clearly, I have a life-long mental block when it comes to this date. Every single post from June 22 sucked.
Yes. I know, suckage is not just on June 22 in my blog history. Dude, I need an editor. And someone who is erudite, pithy, and knowledgeable to write the content.
But I have accomplished something today. I can certainly cut and paste this entry next year on June 22.
I could pretend I’m pseudo depressed. After all, the days are getting shorter. There will be fewer hours of sunshine today than yesterday. Sniff. Sob. Hey, it’s true. Would I lead you astray? It is only 187 days until Christmas. Ponder that.
It is supposed to be hot today. Not only in actuality, but more so because it is SUMMER. The media acts like it is a new thing to be hot in the summer. Panic! In 200 days or so they will be surprised to discover it is cold! Who knew?
Anyway it is Friday and I am ready for the weekend. I have nothing planned, but I won’t be staring at a spreadsheet.
Have a great Friday. Oh, as a parting gift you can have this stuck in your head like I have for two days:
You are welcome.
Every bird in the Mudsock zip code seems to think the thing is their personal water fountain and bath tub. I have to routinely fill it with fresh water and clean out the filter on the pump because, well, they are dirty filthy nasty birds.
What is the thanks I get for giving our avian friends access to water?
This, on my patio door:
Splattered through the screen.
Stupid birds.
Happy Summer!
Today marks the federal holiday of Juneteenth. No mail today. Yawn. I have to work. No holiday for me! I have no issue celebrating the end of slavery in this country. That holiday should be December 18. But, whatever.
Of course accompanied with Juneteenth are the never-ending calls for citizens who never owned slaves to give money to people who never were slaves. The mayor of Chicago is the latest to take up the call for reparations.
One of the few legislative victories of the dysfunctional Congress of the Confederation of the US was the Northwest ordinance of 1787. It formed the Northwest Territory comprising the area that would come to encompass Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan,Wisconsin, and parts of Minnesota. In case you are Geographically challenged, Chicago would lie right in the heart of that area.
Here is the thing, slavery was illegal in the Northwest Territory. Chicago was incorporated in 1837, some fifty years after slavery was outlawed in the area. What reparations are owed by Chicago to what ancestors of slaves that never existed in Chicago?
Now if you want to talk about the onerous Treaty of Greenville…
Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me again asking why I didn’t do something useful with my time.
Like sitting around the pool and drinking wine is not a good thing, I said.
Talking about my “doing something useful” seems to be her favorite topic of conversation.
She was “only thinking of me” and suggested I go down to the senior center and hang out with the guys.
I did this and when I got home last night, I decided to teach her a lesson about staying out of my business.
I e-mailed her and told her that I had joined a parachute club.
She replied, “Are you nuts? you are 73 years old, and now you’re going to start jumping out of airplanes?”
I told her that I even got a membership card and e-mailed a copy to her.
She immediately telephoned me, “Good grief, where are your glasses! This is a membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club.”
Oh man, I’m in trouble again; I really don’t know what to do… I signed up for five jumps a week.”
The line went quiet and her friend picked up the phone and said that my daughter had fainted.
Life as a senior citizen is not getting any easier but sometimes it can be fun.
I had a great Father’s Day. My boys called me up to wish me a happy day. My daughter made a great dinner with steak and spuds. Desert was peach cobbler - she knows I love peaches. In fact, the wife took me for ice cream in the afternoon and I had…peach ice cream!
In other news the Cubs are sucking these days. It’s not a new thing, they’ve been bad for most of my life. I don’t expect them to win a World Series every year. Actually averaging more than three hits a game would be nice.
It is going to be hot this week. Temps are forecasted for the 90s with high humidity. The weather people want to panic. I opine it is summer.
Since I regularly comment on the weather when I have nothing to write about (most days) a perusal of the old blog for June of most years will show entries complaining about the heat.
So it goes.
I have a conference call with some people in Germany. Gotta go. Have a good Monday.
It is a glorious Saturday here at the old homestead. Birds are singing, rabbits are hopping, squirrels are chattering, and chipmunks skulk around the flower beds. Classic rock plays softly on my spy speaker while I hunt and peck on the keyboard.
What? I see you waving your arm in the air. Yes, you can go to the restroom…no? Oh, yeah, I did say not to expect a post today. Hm. Well, Surprise!
Geez, now what do you want? Uh huh. Yes. Well actually I never promised a quality post, now did I?*
And you aren’t getting one either: a quality post. You are getting words and paragraphs. Hey, sometimes in life you get what you pay for. At least I’m not spinning around that tablet looking for a tip. I’m not saying I would not welcome some cash if you want to send it, I’m just not asking. I suspect not many of you would look askance at an unexpected windfall.
I am reminded of a time back in junior high. I found a five dollar bill in the hallway. I took the money to the office. It was probably somebody’s lunch money. All I could think about is how I would feel if I lost my lunch funds. Some of my friends thought me a fool to give up found cash. Some fifty years later I still do not regret my decision. Of course ever-cynical me is pretty sure the lady in the office pocketed the fiver thinking “Hey, free money!”
B This attitude probably explains why my bank account totters on the edge of negative far too often in the days prior to payday. That and Bidenomics. But you knew that.
* read this if you want a quality post.
My writer’s block extends to this journal. Here is some music:
Have a great Friday.
I wouldn’t get my hopes up for a Saturday post.
The press propaganda arm of the Democratic Party wants you to believe all is well with the economy. They shout to heaven that inflation was only 3% last month and that is good because it could have been higher. What it really means is that figurative dollar on your debit card bought you 3% less than it did last month.
Me? I bought gas and groceries. Don’t try to tell me everything is rosey and all we need is a little more Bidenomics to make everything glorious. I doubt you are that dumb either.
The bottom line is everything is up 20-30% since Biden took office. Don’t believe the talking heads when they try to convince you that our senile chief executive is doing a great job. Look at that receipt from the grocery store and make an informed decision come November.
I was set to write a screed about one Biden guilty of gun charges while another bumbles through a “we need more gun control laws” speech on the same day. I won’t. You can find just such an editorial all over the web,
Instead, let’s just listen to more music.
This is quite possibly one of the saddest songs ever penned:
If you stopped by for meaningful content today you are out of luck.
Listen to some old rock music instead.
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| June 2024 |
Today it is expected to be chilly for a Monday in June. I’m not worried, regular summer heat is forecasted to arrive my mid-week along with lots of sun.
The day lilies along my patio sure do not mind the weather. I snapped this picture yesterday while I was relaxing with a nice cigar on the patio.
We had a good weekend, I cooked up a birthday dinner for the wife Saturday. Sunday we went to have a steak at Texas Roadhouse. We used a gift certificate sent by the oldest boy for his mom’s birthday.
Work entered my head early this morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep. So here I am typing boring drivel for you in order to avoid firing up the laptop at 5:30 am. The good thing is I have a weekly afternoon meeting with my boss on Monday afternoon, so I will not have to fight the urge to fall asleep at my desk this afternoon!
Sixteen year-old William Ayres was sure he could be one of the greatest gunfighters of all time. He longed to see his name and exploits written about in the dime novels. Just what he would do to become famous, he was not sure, but he knew it involved being good with a gun. He practiced every day with his old Navy Colt, drawing and dry firing until he was sure he just might be the fastest man alive with a gun. All he needed was cartridges and opportunity to prove himself.
Every day William went into the woods outside of Jefferson
and practiced. He would draw and pull the trigger in one smooth motion. He mimed
firing until he could save up for ammunition. William was worried
about his nickname. Billy the Kid was taken. He thought he would go by Six Gun Bill
or maybe the Jefferson Kid. Ayres was
reluctant to refer to himself as “Kid”. He was slight and small of build. His features
were boyish and a bit feminine. His gun was manly enough he thought.
Ayres took a job far beneath his self-worth when he agreed
to drive some hogs to the railroad chute on the west side of Jefferson. His
handful of greenbacks allowed him to buy a box of shells. He was amazed when he
finally got to fire his revolver that he could not hit his target. He learned
from the dime novels that all of the great gunfighters could hit an ace on a
playing card with their six-shooter as easily as pointing a finger. He tacked a
playing card to the trunk of a slim maple tree and convinced himself he just barely
missed and he was fast enough to fire twice while his opponent was still
drawing his gun from the leather holster. Finally, William Ayres hit the trunk
of the maple right above the playing card and the Jefferson Kid knew he was
ready to take on the wild wooly west.
He didn’t want to ruin a playing card anyway, he convinced
himself. William had never played poker, but he knew the rules and was sure he
would be good at it. There was no reason to ruin a deck of cards, he decided.
After a while he became sure he missed the card on purpose. William stood and emptied
the gun quickly into the trunk beside the other bullet from a distance of about
eight inches. He smiled smugly. It felt good. That’s the way a true gunfighter
can shoot.
The next morning William walked into the bank, pointed his gun,
and robbed the teller of just over forty-five dollars. Ayres stole a horse and
rode rapidly out of town. He first headed east then circled back to the west, sure
he outsmarted any Sheriff’s posse. The self-minted Jefferson Kid was convinced
he was now on the road to fame and fortune.
Two weeks later The Jefferson Kid spent the last of his
coins to pay a fare to cross the Mississippi River into St. Louis. He was broke,
tired, and humiliated. Bad luck started when he lost almost twenty-five dollars
somehow. It must have fallen from his pocket buying supplies. Then, who knew it
cost so much to stay in hotels and eat in dining rooms and boarding houses? The
last place he stayed wanted a dollar to put up his horse in the livery barn for
the night. Then his horse threw a shoe and he had to pay a blacksmith to
replace it.
William rolled a drunk for a crumpled banknote and pocket change. He made a dry camp next to the
Missouri River in St. Charles, shivering in his blankets in the damp air. That
evening The Kid entered a poker game in a riverfront dive and lost all of his
cash in just a few minutes. He accused the winner of the hand of cheating. “You
want to take that back, boy?” asked the man in the nice black suit, his eyes
narrowed in anger. “I will allow you spoke in haste, being so young and all.”
William greedily eyed the modest pot in the center of the
table. “I ain’t no boy, I am the Jefferson Kid, also known as Six Gun Bill, and
I don’t take kindly to cheaters,” William spoke, his voice cracking just a
little. Two players on either side of the poker table scooted away out of the
line of fire. The tall man in the suit stood up. William palmed his gun as he
half-rose from his chair. He felt the slug hit his gut before he had his gun
half out of the leather. He fell
sideways from his chair, the shock and pain beyond anything he ever imagined. Tears
filled his eyes as he moaned in agony. His stomach felt like it was on fire.
“Six Gun Bill? More like Slow Gun Bill,” quipped the tall
man. The laughter hurt the kid almost as much as the bullet lodged in his
abdomen. The tall stranger gathered up
the pot and walked calmly out of the tavern. William Jefferson died three days
later, crying for his mother, in intense pain. He was buried in an unmarked
grave.
Fifty years later, Jacob Wyatt winched the trunk of a big
maple tree onto the slide and adjusted the saw blade. He began to cut long
boards from the heartwood. He heard a strange metallic sound on the previous
cut. He leaned over the trunk to watch the blade as he pushed the log forward
again. The big blade hit a chunk of lead from several bullets buried deep in
the heart of the tree. The log kicked back suddenly and with force, striking
Jacob in the head. He fell back, the saw blade screaming into the afternoon. A
bullet from the gun of the Jefferson Kid had finally killed a man.
