Before the war
Before the medals
Before the Greatest Generation became great
—there was a boy on a dusty Indiana backroad with a truck full of moonshine and everything to lose
*thank you Nathan
Before the war
Before the medals
Before the Greatest Generation became great
—there was a boy on a dusty Indiana backroad with a truck full of moonshine and everything to lose
*thank you Nathan
There are murmurs, whispers, and threats the Chicago Bears might move to NE Indiana. I am beyond skeptical.
Fuzzy has a great breakdown at his place. The Mayor of Hammond (the basis for the fictional town in the movie A Christmas Story) thinks the stadium will generate significant new business, a “Bearsville ” outside the stadium.
Does he realize the team will only play 8 or 9 games a year in that stadium? No Ruth’s Chris nor high rise hotel can survive on traffic from game days only. Has he driven to Chicago and looked around st the entertainment offerings right around Soldier Field?
Exactly, and Chicago has far more going on than Da Region.
I think the Bears are using this offer as a velvet hammer to force Chicago and Illinois to a weaker negotiating position.
I’ve run across this strategy more times than I can count in negotiations. “We.don’t want to change, but your competition has a better deal on the table…”
If I was a betting man…I am pretty sure who is getting played here.
I took a late lunch yesterday afternoon and smoked a small cigar out on the patio. With the temperature in the upper sixties, I perfectly comfortable in a sweatshirt. Are those things bad for me? Yes. Do I care? No. I’ve been smoking cigars since I was about eight, so I think I’ll be okay.
Yeah, I worked late to make up for it.
No Friday music because Google is being a jerk.
Temperatures will push the 60s for the next couple of days before snow flakes fly this weekend.
'Nuff said.
From Thhe Godfather to Lonesome Dove he was excellent. I particularly liked him in Open Range.
He may have appeared in an occasional bad movie, but he was never bad in a movie.
Ahhoooga.
Dense fog blankets the neighborhood this morning. The neighbor's porch lights are fuzzy lights in the distance. I'm not worried about my commute in the low visibility conditions, I walk down hall to get to my office.
I got ambitious and made a pan of lasagna for dinner. Actually, I made two pans since I divided it into two baking dishes. We took the extra pan over to my daughter's. The wife and I still have enough leftover for lunch today.
After dinner I baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies while the wife did laundry. Normally baking is her purview, but she asked and I did.
Today is my mother's birthday. I miss you mom.
We have once again reached that time of year in mid-February were I need to make a proclamation. No, not Happy Valentine's Day (sure, that too), no, IT IS TIME TO TURN OFF YOUR CHRISTMAS LIGHTS.
Look, you don't have to take them down, but you can unplug them. It's not hard.
I rant on this every year. There are three houses within a block fighting hard to maintain the Christmas spirit. Whatever, time's up.
I'm convinced the lady on the corner believes you just leave the lights on until they finally burn out sometime in April or May and then just replace them next November.
Side note: are you OK Freddie?
Would you read this book?:
In rural small-town 1930's Indiana, a boy becomes a bootlegger-- and a man too.
Fifteen-year-old Matt Wyatt knows the Depression is squeezing the life out of his family's farm. When the Crawford clan offers his father a lifeline -- cash in exchange for quiet runs of moonshine--Matt becomes the least-suspected bootlegger in Polk County. What starts as a thrill soon plunges young Matt into a world of violence, loyalty, and moral compromise.
Anchored by the girl who steals his heart, Matt navigates dusty back roads, outlaw justice, and the thin divide between right and wrong as one run goes terribly wrong and the consequences will follow him far beyond the Indiana flat lands he calls home.
Spanning the last days of Prohibition to the shock of Pearl Harbor and World War II, Hoosier Flats is a coming-of-age novel about duty, family, and the heavy price of growing up in hard times.
My wife has the right to criticize me. It may be true I have bad breath, an inability to fold towels to her standards, or fart too much, but I have a reasonable expectation she isn't detailing my shortcomings to a random stranger in the cereal aisle. There is a time and place.
Likewise, athletes are entitled to an opinion. As an athelete you might think Dave's Coffee is bitter swill. You might even express this opinion to your friends and family, but when you are in public, Dave's Coffee has a strong expectation you tell everyone within earshot Dave's is the reason you get out of bed to train eight hours a day. They are sponsoring you and that is the trade-off. Every athlete understands this dynamic.
When you are at the Olympics the USA is your sponsor. The Dave's Coffee logo isn't on your sleeve. The uniform says USA right there on your chest. The Dave's Coffee jingle does not play when you win, it is the National Anthem. You can have an opinion. Leave it at home.
There is a time and place.
We have to be quiet this morning, the granddaughters came for a sleepover and they are still asleep. Turn your TV down. Whisper.
We had a great time last night. I made spaghetti and we played games and watched a movie while munching popcorn. Once they are up and hungry we will make fried biscuit donuts. I miss seeing those girls every day.
This evening I will watch the Big Game and root for both teams to lose. I have not had so little interest in a Superbowl in a very long time and I have even less interest in the halftime show. A dude in a dress doing hip-hop in Spanish? I will pass.
Have a great Sunday.
We find ourselves on a Friday morning. We may break above freezing for the first time in a couple of weeks after some snow showers this morning. It's winter.
The wife is getting vacation fever. She wants to go somewhere warm. What she really wants is another cruise. All it takes is money. I have earned a good bonus at work. I exceeded every one of my KPIs (goals). Whether the company pays it out is another question. The automotive division had a rough year, so we will see. When I exceeded my goals a few years ago I got bupkis because the company did not do well. I will be angry if that happens again, but my only recourse is to quit. It took me so long to get this job. I really like my job, except the pay. Anyway, vacations come from the bonus pay, especially a big one like a cruise.
I told her to stop looking. She never pays attention to me. "But you get to go places," she says. Like New Britain , CT or Valley City, OH, or St. Louis are ideal destinations. I may "get" to go to Grand Rapids in a few weeks. Western Michigan is a joy to travel to in the winter.
Is the sarcasm font working?
More importantly, why would anyone care about any of this?
One final thought, it is egregious Reggie Wayne is not in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
Idiot Target employees in Minnesota (where else) are protesting outside of Target headquarters demanding management refuse to let ICE officers into the stores.
I suppose if you want to also invite the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice to go after your company, you could ban Federal Officers, otherwise these leftist asshats display an astounding ignorance of the Constitution.
You might think March or perhaps October has the craziest weather here in the Midwest. You would be wrong.
February clearly suffers from short man syndrome since it only has 28 days. It over compensates by throwing extremes of weather in our faces. The record low for February in Indianapolis is -21F. The record high is 77F. Based on my history major math that is a temperature variation of nearly 100 degrees (98 degrees if we are going to be all scientific and mathematically correct). Yes, bow down, I did that calculation in my head. I win math this morning.
I'm sure February weather would be far less schizophrenic if we would just pay the global warmingcoolingclimatechange tax. February wants to know why January and March don't pay their fair share, whatever that means.
No matter how many times I tell February that it has plenty to offer, it still feels shorted. "Look," I say, "You have Groundhog Day, Presidents Day, Valentine's Day, The Superbowl, you even have Black History Month!" I tell February it is special because every four years it gets an extra day. June does not get that. April doesn't. All January offers is a let down from glorious December and cold crappy weather. And clouds. Lots of clouds. We all hate January.
I think February merely likes to complain. "I'm spelled funny. I only have 28 days. Everyone dislikes me because I'm still winter."
Boo freaking hoo, February. I've better things to do than pump up your monthly self-esteem. Maybe if you gave us more of those 77F days we wouldn't loathe you so much.
Randy Newman had it right. Short months got no reason...
Dear Billie Eilish,
If you are so sure we are all occupying "stolen land", stand up for your beliefs. Give any property you own to the nearest recognized tribe. You should also give up all of your earnings, to compensate for your privilege.
Otherwise shut the hell up you leftist fool.
A two-fer-- polka for Cappy and a tribute to Kevin's mom.
John Candy filmed all of scenes in one day and reportedly ad libed most of his dialog.
And for the polka part:
PS stupid groundhog
I've always believed the best Pink Floyd album is Wish You Were Here. Like the author in the link, I think the album has depth beyond any preceding music from the band, including Dark Side of the Moon. Conversely, Wish You Were Here avoids the pretentiousness of the later hit album The Wall.
Of course most casual fans of classic rock will find my position curious. After all, Dark Side spent decades on the charts, The Wall is, well, The Wall.
I won't pretend I've always felt this way. Forty, twenty, ten years ago I would have unequivocally stated Dark Side was the pinnacle album in the Pink Floyd discography ( I never did care much for The Wall as a whole). Further listening to Wish You Were Here over the past few years has changed my opinion.
Perhaps as I grow older and have lost loved ones and seen changes in my life that occasionally cause me to look at the past with nostalgia, makes the music resonates more. Who knows?
Music is subjective and that is what makes it so wonderful. My musical mood changes. Today i might be listening to progressive music, tomorrow country, the next Sinatra. But always, since I was a young teen, music has been part of my life. It plays softly in the background as I work, it plays as I type this post. It always plays deep in my brain as I slouch through life.
Apparently I had a dyslexia moment last week. I claimed a post was number 8951.
It wasn't. I transposed numbers. The actual post number was 8591 I have published 8,598 posts, counting this one. There are an additional 109 posts in draft form. I know, how crappy must a post be to not get published?
Mea culpa.
Quitcher complaining, I dropped multiple posts this week. Sure, it was quantity over quality, but that has ever been the case around here.
Look, if you are that upset that i put up a music post I'll refund your subscription.
Exactly.
Listen to the music, return to (or discover) the '70s and relax. It's Friday. It's payday. Life is good.
I know you don't click links. I don't either. Do it. Turn on the sound. Laugh and laugh.
President Trump wants to give every kid born in his term $1000. A couple of banks have pledged to match it.
I don't want my hard-earned wages confiscated to give away to some kid to make his life easier in 18 years. Screw that. $1000 will make my life easier today.
I don't want my tax dollars used to pay off student loans, and this give away is just as wrong.
As I look over a wonderland of snow and subzero temperatures, my heart is warmed by the knowledge pitchers and catchers report in two weeks.
Spring is coming.
I will say it. The Velvet Underground is probably the most overrated band in rock history.
You might disagree, but then you would be wrong.
By early Sunday evening we had more than 11" of snow. I shrugged on my coat , pulled on my sheepskin mittens and grabbed the snow shovel. Of course I am more likely to spot a purple spotted monkey in my front maple than a plow in my cul-de-sac.
I was finishing the bottom third of my drive, anticipating the end, when my neighbor got stuck at the bottom of his driveway. Of course he did not shovel, he tried to drive his front-wheel drive van through it. I don't mind helping my neighbors, but when they won't help themselves...
I went over and pushed him. I pushed again as he got stuck in the street. I had to gently admonished him to keep the wheels straight. In the end he finally made it out and I finished my drive down to the apron. There is no use doing that part by the street until the plow comes - probably around Valentines Day. I'll brave the cold and do the last three feet at lunch.
Earlier this week she told me in jest she thought our house was haunted. She claimed she candles were coming on at random. Behind her back I scoffed at the notion.
Alas, I was plopped on one couch and noticed the candles were on. I did not turn them on. The wife was upstairs. WTH?
I turned the candlesticks off and went back to whatever nonsense I was watching on the television. The next time I looked the candles were back on.
Challenge accepted.
I won't bore you with the details beyond confirming without a doubt there is no ghost. There is, however, a Vizio soundbar. Every time we turn down the TV, the candles go on. Volume up does nothing, only volume down. And yes, as confirmation the "on" button for the candles turns down the soundbar.
I tried the remote that came with the speaker. It turns on the candles. I tried an old Comcast remote we used to use. You guessed it, down volume turns on the candlestick. Short of scrapping the candles or buying a new soundbar (my vote since I'll convince the wife's a new soundbar can only work with a new TV), we are just going to have to turn off the candle every time we turn down the TV, otherwise we better buy stock in AAA batteries.
It sure looks like we are in for some rocky winter weather this weekend. You probably are also.
Interestingly enough, this weekend also marks the anniversary of the Blizzard of '78, one of the biggest storms to hit this part of the country. That storm is memorable around the old homestead. The wife's father passed away at the height of the storm. This was before I met her later that same year.
Anyway, before you diverted me, I was discussing the expected freezing temperatures and forecasted 5-11 inches of snow. As evidenced above, it is January, these things happen. Besides, for some places around the Great Lakes that amount of snow is just another day. Ho hum.
For those of you who refuse to pony up the cash for my mediocre first novel, there is a description of the Blizzard of '78 in the book.
We need to take over Greenland for the long-term security of the United States.
Now substitute "Ukraine" for Greenland and "Russia" for The United States.
If you don't like that analogy try ,Sudetenland, Alsace-Lorraine, the Balkans, or Tibet...
This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary Notwithstanding
Article VI clause II
Seriously, it’s been three days. Sure, it might be desert, but dry heat is no excuse. How hard is it to think up a name for a horse? Blackie, Red, Trigger, Silver, Man O’War, Secretariat — how about something mundane like Bob or even Joe?
It seems like it happens this time every year. That old ennui sets in. I am bored. The cold short days are often cloudy. Football is pretty much over and my team once again missed the playoffs. Real baseball is a couple of months away.
I’m bored by work. I’m bored with TV. I’m bored by this blog. I have a proof of my second novel on the corner of my desk. I’m sick of it too. You can only read something a few dozen times before it becomes a blob of familiar words. I find I’m even bored by music. While I love reading, I’m kinda bored by that too.
I know, boo freakin’ boo.
I see lots of Democrats, elected and voters, protesting the enforcement of immigration laws.
I have yet to see a single bill introduced to overturn those laws.
Maybe it’s all just theater.
Scott Adams has passed. The world of office humor is diminished.
His Dilbert cartoon entertained me to no end.
The good news is I was excused from jury duty after voir dire. That’s when the attorneys for either side can ask for your dismissal after questioning. I suspect the defense in this drug case were not keen on me after learning I voted to convict in two previous drug trials. Maybe collectively the State and Defense thought someone else should get a chance.
It might have been my response when asked about my opinion on automatic license plate readers. I said “I’m not crazy about the amount of surveillance you see everywhere. That said, I willingly put a cell phone in my pocket. I have an Amazon Alexa in every room and a video doorbell. So welcome to 2026.” The prosecutor may not have liked that answer.
I am pleased I don’t have to serve, but a tiny bit of me is miffed at the rejection. My objectivity was called into question.
This is a pre-recorded post. I’m off to jury duty this morning. Yes, it is my civic duty . Here’s the thing, I’ve done my part.
In the late 1980’s I served on a Federal Grand jury. That was 3-4 days every other week for about three months, then 1-2 days every other week for another month or two, then 1-2 days a month for another six months. It was 12 months of jury duty.
In the late 1990’s I served on a trial jury. In 2011 I served on another trial jury.
In between I was called at least four additional times but did not have to serve. I believe I’ve done my share, but I’ll buck up and do it again if called to serve.
But hey, I’ll make $30.
The whole thing might have been a comedy act, but that band was real musicians and they could really play.
Indiana sure put a beatdown on Oregon in the football game last night.
I never thought I’d see the day when IU became a football powerhouse.
If you show up with the intent to interfere with police, whether at the local, state , or federal level, it is not going to end well. You will not come out unscathed. You do so to elicit a response, because there will not be a favorable outcome.
If you choose to interfere with police you are either a fool or a tool of others, or both. This is true of the stupid, foolish woman in Minneapolis.
Let me say, I believe the ICE officers were overly aggressive. No one needed to be in front of the vehicle, she wasn't going anywhere. The street was blocked.
That out of the way, the stupid and foolish woman made three choices that determined her fate. 1.She showed up with the intent of interfering with law officers. Of that there is no doubt. People "visiting relatives" do not block the street with their SUV and they move when told by police. 2. She refused to exit the vehicle when ordered so by officers of the law. 3. She stepped on the gas.
I don't know if she intended to run down the officer or try and make a run for it. Either way, she compounded her foolish actions and wound up dead. Did she try to run down the agent? I don't know, but he clearly felt in danger of his life or he would not have shot his gun. I will go with that until someone presents evidence the ICE Agent is a murderous psychopath.
If you want to give your hard-earned money to nearly two million dollars to the family of a stupid fool and tool, that is up to you. No one should be rewarded for criminal acts.
I think if you donated, it makes you a fool and a tool also.
ICE is out rounding up illegals. Ok, we can discuss tactics and goals in a later discussion.
Here is my question; when are we going to see arrests of the employers who hire and pay those people under the table? They are stealing (by omission) tax dollars on the same scale as the illegals collecting benefits. They are criminals as much or more than poor illegals who are trying to better their lives.
Sheesh, is it Thursday already? We’ve had a spate of mild weather this week and yesterday I thought I might shrug on a jacket and have a rare winter stogie out on the patio. Alas the boss gave me a project so I worked instead of playing hooky. The Company puts money into my bank account. Cigar manufacturers take my money, so my priorities are clear.
If we have wherewithal and ability to go to Venezuela and arrest a commie dirtbag, surly we can arrest some of the criminals who frequented Epstein Island for wild orgies with teenagers.
It is the first Monday of the New Year. I’m back at it after being off pretty much the past two weeks.
I love my job. Let me be clear about that. I also could retire if my personal financial situation would allow it. I started working at 14. At this point I’ll have to work until I die or win the lottery. So I’m back at it.
Okay, we’ve seen the report by the independent reporters. We have seen the fraud. When are we going to see cops knocking on the same doors? When are we going to see people perp walked? When are we going to see bureaucrats fired and arrested ?
This is my money and your money. Why are we voting for anyone who thinks $20K a year is acceptable for child care? I want to see elected reps defend this nonsense.
And when ANY politician claims that fraud is just part of going business then he should be impeached and run out of town on a rail after a good dose of tar and feathers. And I’m not joking.