Turn out the lights

 

Demons of Camerone Part II

 Elements of the Third Company First Battalion of The French foreign Legion were surrounded by Mexican Cavalry. More than 2,000 Mexicans faced less than 46 Legionaires posited behind the crumbling adobe walls of the Hacienda Camerone. Mexican snipers occupied the upper stories of the ruined buildings, while the determined Captain Danjou elicited a promise from his surviving troops that they would fight to the end. A running firefight had erupted at around 7:30 am. At 9:30 the embattled Legionaires refused to surrender.

Around 11:00 am Captain Danjou was hit by sniper fire while scurrying across the courtyard. He was rescued by two men, but died less than five minutes later. Shortly after, The Legionaires heard bugle calls and prayed it was a relief column or the convoy coming to the rescue. A sergeant in the Legion climbed to the stable roof. He reported that the Mexican Cavalry was being joined by approximately 1,000 infantry. Local guerrillas swelled the already impossible odds. Still the Third Company refused to surrender. The noon sun baked the interior of the hacienda. The remaining soldiers and the wounded alike began to suffer from thirst. The North Africa vetrans drank their own urine to fight dehydration. Ammunition began to run low. At 2:00 pm the second in command Lt. Villain was killed. The attackers threw smoldering bales of straw over the walls. Smoke, heat, thirst, fear and exhaustion preyed upon the defenders. Repeated assaults brought the Mexicans close enough to batter holes in the ramparts. Still the defenders held.

At 5:00 pm The Mexican Commander called upon the remaining Legionaires to surrender. Only twelve remained on their feet. They again refused. Colonel Milan harangued his Mexican soldiers on the subject of their national honor and launched a full assault on the hacienda. After a desperate hour-long fight the Mexicans controlled the entire compound except the stable. Lt. Maudet and and five unhurt survivors were all that remained. Their ammunition was all but gone, they were dying of hunger and thirst, but they remembered their promise to Captain Danjou. Throwing aside the barricades, these six brave men launched a bayonet charge against the massed Mexican infantry!

Maudet and two others were struck down in a hail of gunfire. The remaining three brave soldiers formed back to back, bayonets lowered. They were ready to kill and be killed. The awed Mexicans could only stare. Finally the three were convinced to surrender. Unable to believe there were only three survivors Mexican Colonel Milan responded "Pero, non son hombres -- son demonios" (truly, these are not men -- they are demons).

The Mexicans treated the wounded. The three survivors and the 16 that were cut off in the earlier retreat to Camerone were later exchanged. Estimates are that the Legionaires inflicted more than 300 casualties. The half company had fought at more than one hundred to one odds for almost 10 hours.

Later, the wooden hand of Danjou was found amid the ruble of the buildings at Camerone. Every year the hand, in a little glass coffin, is paraded to the First Battalion of the French Foreign Legion as a reminder of their heritage and the standards they should attain. April 30 remains a holiday for the Legion.

Have you perviously heard of the Demons of Camerone?

The last two posts are reruns from 2005. Compare to the crap I publish these days. 

I need to get some mojo back.

Demons of Camerone

 The French have a well deserved reputation for surrendering in the face of the enemy. Not since the days of Napoleon have they offered an effective fighting force. This is a fact they realized themselves over 160 years ago when they were forced to form the French Foreign Legion. The Legion was the brainchild of Marshal Soult, one of Napoleon's Field Marshals. At the time of its formation most French thought the Legion was a disgrace and were offended that mercenaries had to be used to fight the Nation's battles.

The Legion was given the dirty jobs the French regular Army was too soft to handle. They subjugated North Africa, they were rented to Spain, they carried the brunt of the French fighting in the Crimea and Peidmonte Wars. The Legion was only for the strongest. Discipline was brutal. Soldiers from the Legion were separated from their homeland and family. For them, the French Foreign Legion was "Legio Patria Nostra" -- The Legion is our Country.

By 1860 Mexico had finished a bloody Civil war. The economy was ruined. The Government could not pay its debts(some things never change). President Benito Juarez suspended payment of all foreign debt. French Emperor Napoleon III took strong exception. He invaded Mexico with the intention of installing his own puppet government under Archduke Maximillian. Wait a minute you might ask? What about the Monroe Doctrine? Well you see the French did not have to worry about the US as we were in the middle of a little altercation already -- our own Civil War.

The Legion was given the duty of guarding the supply lines in the malaria zone of the coastal plain from Vera Cruz to Cordoba. Legionaire ranks were soon depleted by Malaria, Typhus and Yellow Fever. On April 20, 1663 a convoy of artillery, ammunition and paychests left Vera Cruz. The Mexican army soon caught word and set out to attack the convoy.

The French learned of this impending attack and sent the Third Company of the First Battalion French Foreign Legion to scout the route back to the convoy. This reconnaissance in force was to travel down the Vera Cruz road to Palo Verde, a trip of about 20 miles. The Third Company had a nominal strength of 120. Disease had thinned the ranks to just 62 men when the march began. All the officers were sick, so command was given to Captain Jean Danjou. The Captain was a longstanding veteran who had lost his hand in the Crimea. He sported a wooden left hand held on with a leather cuff.

The Company left their post at Chiquihuite around just after midnight on April 30. They passed an abandoned and partially destroyed hacienda called Camerone. The traveled on a few more miles to Palo Verde even more ruined and deserted. This was the limit to the patrol. Danjou allowed the men breakfast, but they no sooner lit the cookfires when Mexican Cavalry was spotted to the West.

Danjou moved the men quickly back in the direction of Chiquihuite, using the scrub away from the road as to avoid detection. Just past Camerone, the small column was attacked by Mexican cavalry. The pack mules with the spare water and ammunition fled in panic. Danjou retreated south of the road where he beat off another attack by forming his company into a square. The company moved toward the ruined hacienda at Camerone for protection, and 16 stragglers were cut off. Danjou got his company to the safety of the ruined adobe walls, only to find Mexican snipers have occupied the upper floors. A long fire fight ensued. By about 8:00 am The remaining 46 Legionaires are surrounded by about 800 Mexican Cavalry, snipers cover most of the courtyard where the Legionaires are holed up and an unknown number of local guerrillas have joined the fray.

At around 9:30 a Mexican Army officer came forward under a flag of truce. He informed the Legionaires that they were now surrounded by more than 2,000 soldiers. He offered generous terms of surrender. Danjou replied that he had plenty of ammunition and he would never surrender.

Welcome to psychedelia

Of course it’s not really live

Oh Frankie

Can you dig it?

When?

 I’ll ask yet again. We are rounding up the illegals. When are we going after the real problem, the employers? No jobs, no illegals.

Look, those employers are not paying taxes. They need to feel the wrath. I want perp walks — small business, CEOs. I don’t care. Arrest them and throw them in prison. 

They are stealing from me and you. 

Pepe le Pew thinks you reek

 The wife and I went to a sit-down burger place for dinner last night. Everything was going great until the hostess sat some people at the next table. I’m not sure what brand perfume the lady was wearing but she sure had a lot of it on. 

A lot.

And it was strong. My eyes started to smart like I was spraying Roundup, the real kind that kills everything.  Think flower-scented ammonia.

What possesses people to slather themselves in perfume snd cologne  that permeates the air within a Fauci-like six foot circle? 

If it’s you, just stop. 

Hobbies should not be habits

Happy Sunday. 

A couple of weeks ago we drove past what used to be Camp Kickthawenund, an old Boy Scout camp. I went to summer camp there several times. One summer I went twice, once with my troop and once with another troop. It was Okay, I knew those guys, I lived in a small town. In fact, I went through the Firecrafter ritual there. 

I sometimes camped with other troops. To celebrate the nation’s Bicentennial, the local Boy Scout council held a giant camperee for the whole council — BiJambo. I don’t know why my troop did not participate, but the troop from Mulberry did and I went with them. My dad was good friends with that troop’s Scoutmaster and arranged it. 

By coincidence, after college I served as an Assistant Scoutmaster for that troop before I had kids. 

Most of the time, as a kid, my troop went to Randsburg Reservation. Anyway, by the time I was 16 or so I quit going to Summer Camp. I had a job, and then there was girls, and cars…and I had earned my Eagle by yhen.

I remained active in the Scout Troop, serving as a Junior leader until I left for college. 

I never lost my love for camping. Unfortunately that passion was never shared by my wife and only my oldest son had any interest in scouts. I did take him to Weeblos camp at Kikthawenund a couple of summers when I served his pack as Weeblos Leader. He was done with it by the time he could move on from Cub Scouts and Weeblos. 

So it goes. 

When you see the Southern Cross for the first time

 

Dr. Green to Trauma 2, Stat...

 I've been watching old episodes of ER for the past week or two. I forgot how good the show was. I've also noted there were 20+ episodes in a season, not the 13 or sometimes fewer we are offered these days from both broadcast TV or streaming services. 

She sits alone waiting for suggestions

 

Don't skip on this one, listen to the bass line. That's quality folks.

Monday on Wednesday

 I’ve lollygagged enough. It’s back to work. I extended my glorious Independence Day holiday from last Friday until yesterday. I did not do much beyond watch old episodes of ER and relax . It was wonderful. 

Now I have to work on my presentation for the big sales meeting next week. 

I never travel these days and here I go for a few days next week after spending a week on the road at the end of June. Three days in the greater Detroit area. It’s good to be me, right?

Asked and delivered

 I told my Amazon spy device to play some 70s rock. It played Stairway to Heaven immediately followed by Free Bird.

That's about as 70s as you can get.

Dear Nabisco

 We went to pool.party on Friday. As I put together a batch of mini cheesecakes to take, I noticed the Nilla Wafers are significantly smaller than they used to be. Once upon a time the circumference of the cookie was nearly the same as a muffin cup. Now they maybe 3\4 of the size. It still.works, but the bottom crust for the cheesecake is a bit lacking. 

I suspect the health Nazis are responsible. In order to.make the serving size look better on the nutritional label, Nabisco might have made the cookies smaller. 

Or maybe it is just more shrinkflation. Who knoes?

We had a great time at the pool and the cheesecakes were delicious. Smaller cookies isn't life and death and I'm not angry. Just a bit of mild complaining.

I'm good at that.

Independence Day

 

Happy Birthday America 

Good morning, America, how are you?

 

It ain’t the drifters

 

Here we are, a pseudo-Friday leading into a glorious holiday weekend celebrating America’s birthday. 

I took off Monday and Tuesday for good measure. Sadly it looks like rain in the forecast, but what does a boy do? 

Hello Summer

 

So Worth It

I’m full of it this morning, if “it” means last night’s dinner. The wife and I had quite the repast. We spent too much, but it’s only money. I don’t need that electricity anyway. 

Oh wait, it is fry an egg on the pavement hot (aka summer). 

I guess I don’t need water.

Oh, in all that heat I sweat and need to shower…

Okay, I guess it means hot dogs at Costco snd Spam for the next month.

But boy was that steak good…

Duck quacks don't echo

Hey! It is summer. That means reruns. Yeah, I reran it in 2019 too. The blog was better in those halcyon days.

June 30, 2011

It would be cool if some bright young genius would find a way to insert a little code into Blogger that would allow me to type with an echo. You know, like the recording of Lou Gehrig when he says "Today...ay...ay...I consider myself..elf..elf..The luckiest man...an..an... alive...

Because today's post would be rife with that cool echo thingy. When I write "Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on Earth" I too, like the Iron Man Gehrig, could have that awesome echo.

You see, today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth (OK, just pretend there is the echo thingy). Today is my 27th anniversary. Yep, 27 years. I verified the math on my calculator. The wife and I stood in the Methodist Church back on June 30, 1984 and we mutually pledged to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.

Hold on, the Founding Fathers made that pledge. The wife and I pledged our love and marriage.

So far there has been a lot more health than sickness, and the poorer has far outweighed the richer. I will say this, the next time I get married there is going to be some kind of codicil in the vows about nookie. I'm just sayin'.

Seriously, my wife is a saint.  If you think I am irritating and obnoxious around here, you ought to try living with me. I am hard-headed, opinionated and find myself really amusing. There must be some redeeming qualities I fail to recognize when I look in the mirror, because the wife has stuck with me through a lot of thin and a little thick.

Woops, sorry about that. I just realized I forgot to turn off the imaginary echo thingy feature. Anyway, the whole point of this post is to tell you I am a lucky man.

Thinking back on the events of that warm June day in 1984, I have to question my wife's judgment. Not only did she agree to marry me, but she made the groomsmen wear light blue tuxedos. Clearly the woman has some flaws. But in all, I made a much better deal than she did.

I am a lucky man, indeed. But you have to admit I would be bordering on true greatness if I had an echo thingy for my blog. 

Oh, and duck soounds do produce an echo. 

Edit: it is now...ow...ow been 35 years...ears...ears...today 

Edit of the edit: it is now 42 years…ears…ears…today

Has it really been fifty years?

My little hometown went all out for the Bicentennial celebrations back in 1976. 

The big city park was filled with people as bands played in the bandstand and vendors sold pork burgers, roasted corn on the cob and lemon shakeups. 

Kids played and cars cruised slowly through the park. Teens and adults tossed firecrackers and smoke bombs. As darkness fell fireworks lit the night. At some some point in the afternoon some fool set of a military style smoke bomb and thick clouds of red smoke billlowed through the crowd. 

It seems those celebrations far eclipsed what we are seeing today but it may be the perspective of age. Back in 1976 in my hometown the fire hydrants were painted to resemble Revolutionary figures.

Later that year I attended a massive Boy Scout Jamboree -Bijambo over in Henry county. I went with another troop for that event, I don’t know why my own troop did not go. Of course I took every opportunity in those days to go camping. That might have been the year I went to summer camp twice - once with my own troop and once with a different group. It was OK, I knew all of those guys. 

 

It sure ain’t Mudsock

 

Looking west from the roof of the Londonhouse Hotel, Chicago, IL.

Sunday

It is good to be home.  Rolled in around 8 Friday night. It was great to lie down on my old lumpy mattress. 

Clearly the photographer can’t hold the camera straight and level.

Paging Sarah Connor

 

Sure it is cute and fun.

Didn’t its creators ever watch The Terminator?

Beautiful

 

I saw this was my view every day as I walked out of my hotel this week. 

Dang Dixie

 

Yes that's Dixie McCall (Julie London) of "Emergency" smoking up the airwaves.

I don't wanna know your name

 

Happy Father's Day

to all you dads out there.

I miss you Dad.

Chitown Bound

Posting will be light next week. I'm heading out in the morning for the big robotics show in Chicago.  

woot

Can you feel my excitement? 

I'm searching for a a word..loathe...that's it! I loathe trade shows. 13.6% of the attendees are there to learn something or find a new supplier. 11% are there because it represents a small work vacation. 9% are there because their boss said they had to go. 31% are there to sell something to ghe exhibitors but don't want to rent a booth. The balance are looking for free stuff. 

The exhibitors are just there to sell something to people who are not interested in buying.

Time moves slower at a trade show. Four minutes may pass in the outside world while only one minute passes in a trade show. Fact. 

I will have fun hanging with my work coleagues who I rarely see in person. 

I will not enjoy standing 6-7 hours a day. Did I mention Chicago? McCormick place? If you know,you understand. 

A couple of years ago when the show was in Chicago we went to a Cubs game and that made it all worth suffering through. Alas, the Cubs are out of town next week. I'm confident the boss has some fun things arranged and I know we will eat well, but the show...

You got a thing about you

 

We didn't even get a lousy T-shirt

If this agreement with Iran is the results of a master negotiator, then I need to apply for the job. 

The reported terms of the Memorandum of Understanding seem pretty one-sided and Iran is the big winner.

They get paid $300 billion bucks, their assests unfrozen, and all sanctions lifted. They promise not to work on nukes (sure). They won't  charge tolls to go through the Straight of Hormuz for 60 days. Irans keeps their ballistic missles. The Iranians  will "discuss" the nuclear material they have already developed. All fighting has to stop in Lebanon. Of course Hezbolla will shoot missiles at Israel in about nine minutes after the 60 days, so the Iranians have an excuse to ignore the "we will stop trying to make a nuke" provision. 

The US and our allies get....*crickets chirping*...

Seems like the Art of the Deal got us a win/didn't lose proposition. We were in a better position before the start of this so-called war. 

Maybe I'm missing something or more will come out of the sixty day discussions. 

Per reports:

Iran’s top negotiator, Mohammed Bagher Ghalibaf, boasted in comments to state TV that the deal had given them even more than they set out to achieve.

“Everything we sought to achieve through military action, we obtained several times over through negotiation; it was not even comparable,” he said.

You can stop worrying now

We avoided the nasty weather that raced across south central Illinois and Indiana last night. The big red scary "you might die" blob originally was forecasted to go right over my house. Instead, Mother Nature steered the whole thing southward. I pray for those who got whacked by storms and tornadoes, but I'm glad it wasn't me. We had lots of thunder and a few quick moving showers. In all, not bad. 

I think we need a laugh today

 

Scary encounter

 The youngest called in a panic very early this morning. A couple of what he called meth-heads tried to break into his apartment this morning -- while he was asleep right there on the couch! They tried the door and finding it locked tried to come in the window. He'd heard them break into the empty apartment next door, so was awake. He said his dog slept through it all.

While he was on the phone with me talking himself down from the adrenaline rush he heard them come back next door again. I told him to call 911 pronto. 

I offered to see if he wanted me to check the river where I lost my guns in a canoeing accident and bring him a pistol, but he declined. He has his trusty Louisville Slugger. 

Poor kid can't catch a break. They've broken into his car twice in the last few months and now they have tried to come in the windows of his apartment. He's scared and he is sick of it. 

Indianapolis has become a blue city shit hole. There, I said it. 

Edit. He called the police at the time (around 5 am) as of 10 am they still haven't arrived 

It is true

 Watching the grass seed sprout that I planted in a bare spot interests me more than the World Cup. 

Frankly, I'm not too invested in the bare spot.

They cannot be this stupid

 It is a beautiful Saturday here in Mudsock. We are heading off this afternoon to have a beer or two, smoke some fine stogies, and hangout poolside with our best and longest friends. It is good to know people with nice stuff. 

Given the positive vibes I am feeling I really don't want to delve into politics.  But here we go. It must take a special kind of stupid to not understand anything at all about wealth and assets. For goodness sake I have neither and trust me, I've made more stupid financial decisions than most. 

But the politicians and lefties screaming and crying about Elon Musk becoming a trillionaire are beyond the pale. "Millionaires" Elizabeth Warren  and Bernie Sanders should (and do) know better. 

Musk doesn't have piles of money in some giant vault. He doesn't ski down slopes of gold coins like some modern Scrooge McDuck. His wealth (like Jeff Bezos) is tied up in stock he holds in his companies. Musk cannot just write a check to pay for daycare for everyone. 

If Musk sold all of his stock, the value of his companies would collapse and he would have far less wealth. 

Look, there are lots of farmers in my part of the country who are "worth" millions. They have to get loans to buy farm equipment. A couple of bad years could ruin them. Their wealth is in land. Musk's is in stock and assets. And no he doesn't pay taxes on those assets because they are really just pieces of paper, not worth anything until they are sold. 

Let me put it this way, if you own a house, it is worth a certain amount. Is that value of your house in your checking account? No, your house only generates cash if you sell it. 

If your panties are in a wad over SpaceX going public and selling stock, then you are more economically illiterate than your average Democrate Socialist, and that's saying something.

Now I'm going to go choose some cigars and pack a cooler.

Though I try how can I carry on?

 

Once more we step into the 1970s

On the news

 Many reports claim black families feel like they need to have a talk with their sons after the Karmelo Anthony guilty verdict. They should. White, brown, and purple parents need to have the talk too.

Murdering someone because they pushed you in an incident you provoked is not a proper response. 

There, it is easy, and it has nothing to do with race. 

Boo Hoo Scott Pelley.

I've been reading about the histronics from fired journalist Scott Pelley. Things may be different inside a newsroom (I doubt it), but the reported insuborination would get 99.999% of workers fired on the spot. When the boss says to do something, you might respectfully offer an alternative and then you go and do exactly what you are told to do. 

Here is an example. I'd been in sales a good while. I was respected in my industry and considered an expert in a specific application. I was appointed a new boss to oversee my activities. He knew nothing about the industry. 

He went on a series of sales calls with me and my largest customer was first on the list.  We had discussed before the meeting the topics and agenda before we went in. I thought the visit went well. After we got back in the car he asked me how I thought it went. I told him it was a productive meeting. He agreed with me and then asked if I ever created a script and read from it during a sales call. 

With great restraint I did not laugh in his face. "Did I miss somthing we should have discussed?" 

"No."

"Did I not express myself clearly?"

"No, you were great. I was just bothered that you did not bring notes or take notes during the meeting." 

"I learned in college that if I concentrated on note taking I wasn't listening, so I have learned to work that way. I usually make extensive notes after the meeting or later that day." I explained.

"I always read from a script." 

I thought the idea was ridiculous,  my customers would laugh me out of the place. Do you know what I did? After we got to the hotel and before the next day's customer visit I wrote out a script and laid it out on the table during our meeting and pretended to glance at it occasionally during our next sales call. I wrote down random notes during the meeting.

I never did it again unless he was with me because a script is for telemarketers and morons. But he was the boss and my mom didn't raise an idiot. I was convinced his did though.

What I DID NOT do was tell him he was ruining my reputation, he was an idiot, that he was unqualified to be my boss. I did not go off on a rant about the stupidity of the management that put him in charge. That would have gotten me fired. Instead i started looking for another job.

Scott Pelley did those things. He was fired and rightly so. 

On Philosophy

 As I poured a bowl of cereal this morning I had a three decade flashback to me telling my son "You can't just eat the Charms, you have  to eat the Luckies too." 

Much older me realizes this sentiment pretty much sums up life. 

On this day

Today is one of the most important days in my life, because clearly everything is about me. It is my wife's XXXX birthday.  What? I'm not stupid. Even though she does not read this one day someday she might. 

She claims it always rains on her birthday. It is supposed to rain today. Guess what? According to AI:

In Indianapolis, June 8 has the highest probability of rain of any single day of the year, with a historical 42% chance of a wet day. [1]

I don't say it's true, the internet does, and the internet is always right. In any case there is high probability it will rain today. 

Shopping for a present was easy, she picked out an outfit. She came home with the bag and said "You can give me this for my birthday." 

Okay. I'm good with that.

I will go get her a card. I might make her a cake at lunch. 

Anyway, it's my girl's birthday and if she wasn't born I wouldn't be, well,  me. I wouldn't have my kids or grandkids and my bank account would be full and my life empty. 

Reviewing the review

 An old friend sent me some fair and honest reviews of my two efforts at novel writing.

He says Hoosier Flats is a better story, it has the twists and cliffhangers that keep you reading. Suburban Moon is better writing. The prose is stronger and more complex.

Sububurban Moon needs some strong editing (both books do); there are some redundancies that need to be cut. There is no  "twist" until late in the book, and it is rather weak. There are some very strong scenes however.

Hoosier Flats reads like three short stories linked together. He says it works, but can be jarring or confusing for a few pages. He liked each part or era for different reasons. He said the first section is a coming of age/crime drama, the second part feels like a post-war movie plot, and the third section reads almost like a western (in theme, not locale).

My friend thought the double timeliness in Suburban Moon offered great contrast and each showed a different side of a unique character. 

In all, he said the books are not bad for an amateur effort.

I'm sure if you suffered through the books you would agree this is a fair assessment. 

D-DAY, The Sixth of June

 

Soldiers, Sailors, and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months... We will accept nothing less than full victory! Good luck! And let us all beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking."

Older than oldies

 

It probably was not worth mentioning anyway

Yesterday I had a great post idea. It was my thought to write it this morning. 

Yeah. I have no clue what I was going to tell you. Nothing, zip, nada. 

If something occurs to me I'll write it down. Check back later and often. 

Wayback Wednesday

 

You Have to Know Your Limitations

Many posts in the early days of this blog mentioned my experiences coaching youth sports, especially baseball.  It is a thankless job and the parents were the worst part of it. Mostly the complaints from the stands were my failure to recognize that little Billy was the next great shortstop, if I only gave him a chance. Why don't  you let my left-handed superstar play second base, and why is my kid sitting out  (every kid sat out equal innings by the rule of the league). Never once was i irritated by a parent in tbe stands saying "Hey, do you need some help?" So it is with trepidation that i complain about the granddaughter's softball coach. 

I will admit I was not the greatest coach, especially when the kids got older. When they were small I could teach the basics - catching, throwing, and especially hitting. This coach has done none of that. These are six and seven year-olds, they need constant instructions and reminders, especially when it comes to hitting.

"Elbow up. Look at your feet. Swing through the ball." Etcetera. The only girl who gets this help is the coach's daughter. Most important at this beginning level (coach pitch) is someone who can consistently pitch a hittable ball. The girls need to see the same pitcher every game who can get the ball across the plate. Ideally, this pitching coach can adjust to each girl's swing. It is hard, and frankly, my ability to do this is why I was originally asked to help out in baseball when when my oldest boy was six or seven. On this team they have changed pitchers almost every game, sometimes midgame. The head coach wants to pitch, but bounces the ball in front or on the plate nearly 100% of the time. The girls get 5 pitches or three strikes and every unhittable pitch is a killer. 

Last night the coach struck out the side because not a single pitch was hittable. That is great if you are pitching for the Chicago Cubs, not so much against little girls. No one, not even Babe Ruth, can hit a ball that bounces in front of the plate. *

One mom pitched some games earlier in the season and did a great job, but she is not in with the three official coaches (who are all buddies) so they refuse to let her help. Likewise, they told my SIL, who was an all-state baseball player, they had no need of his help either. It may be the Best Place to Live, according to many reports, but they are still Suburban Moms. Mean Girls goes way past high school.

The result is girls who still cannot swing the bat and  who have no idea where to throw the ball on defense. This important because at this age is when kids become frustrated and never come back when they cannot hit. It is incumbent on anyone who coaches at the early levels to do everything to make the experience positive. Help, instruction and positive support are essential.  It is okay to have no idea what you are doing at that level as a coach. You are there for your kid. It is not okay to refuse help because your ego gets in the way. 

Luckily I know enough to whisper my mumbled frustrations in my lawn chair or in the car driving home. I don't want to be "that" grandparent.**

*how hard is it to pitch it to bounce two feet behind the plate if you can't get it right? Pitch to a spot, not the hitter. 

**see my novel Suburban Moon for what happens when you are.

If you are that person, well, I'm not sorry

 Let me say from the start I love animals. Growing up we had a veritable menagerie; dogs, cats, guinea pigs, birds, turtles, goldfish, a chipmunk, chickens, ducks,  even frogs as house pets. In the house. For most of my teen years my dog slept with me. I like animals and they generally like me.

I don't like animals in stores or restaurants.  Animals are dirty. I wouldn't want you standing barefoot in my grocery cart and your hairy, shedding dog's feet are even dirtier. You do not need to take your pet to the hardware store nor the department store nor a restaurant.  

I'm not talking about legitimate service dags. You know what I am referencing. 

I saw a twenty-something toting around a cat in a baby carrier at Meijer last week. Give me a break. Emotional support cat? Your cat doesn't even like you. And it sure does not want to be cuddled in the canned goods aisle.

If you are so emotionally needy you can't go into public without your dog, cat, monkey, turkey, snake, whatever, then get some counseling.  I'm serious. If you cannot separate from your pet to leave the house, then order your food and groceries delivered. Have Amazon bring it. If society is too daunting without clutching something furry, buy a little stuffed animal to hold on to like a three year-old. 

So many of the jerks who dragged their dog of every size to Lowes when I toiled there were of the "Look at me"  narcissist type. Your pug doesn't need to help you choose a new appliance. Your beagle has no opinion on 2x4s, and your Great Dane cannot help you pick out a new grill. If your poodle needs exercise, then go to a dog park, or a jount around the neighborhood.  Yeah, it is cold or raining - welcome to pet ownership. 

We were at the flower store last week and an old lady asked us for help when she couldn't get her pot onto the counter. The wife gave her a hand. The old lady couldn't handle her stuff because one hand was holding a leash attached to a little dog. There was no reason to bring her little yapper to the garden center. 

You may disagree. You are wrong. 

It's been a long, cold, lonely winter

Around 8PM last night I decided I was taking today as a vacation day. I want to spread some mulch and after the heavy rains Wednesday I need to mow. I have to cut back the neighbor's weeds that are growing through my fence. Things are slow this week at work anyway. I might even get ambitious enough to power wash the porch and patio. Probably not. But I might over the weekend.  

How about a nice tune hearalding the coming summer? 

Inspiration fails me.

 I don't know why I'm up just before 5 aye em, but I am. We got beaucoup rain yesterday, but things look better for the next week or so. I hope so, my humidor is calling me. 

Gurgle gurgle goes the gutter

 It's probably raining at your house too

And I sprayed some unwanted weeds in the flower beds.

 Yesterday morning I put out my American flag and then I dragged out the smoker. I drove down to the grocery.  I threw the stuff for a perfect Memorial Day dinner in the cart.

Around noon I got things started. By supper time it was all ready; pulled pork (from a small pork shoulder), baked beans, cheesy potato casserole, and corn on the cob I cooked in the husk on the grill. Sunday we picked up some strawberries from the farmers market and we had strawberries on pound cake for desert after I washed up the dishes. 

In Memorium

 

They gave the ultimate sacrifice so we can be free.

For the birds.

 The wife has a "summer" wreath on the front door. As I walked up on the porch I saw a bird dart from behind it with a flutter. Sure enough, there was a nest. I grabbed so gloves and pulled it out. Then I saw movement and the remains of little blue shells.

Crap.

I carefully put the nest back behind the wreath. I told the wife to be carefull going out the front door. We will shake the door before opening it so the stupid bird does not fly into the house. 

Birds, bunnies, chipmunks, squirrels,  racoons, foxes, and coyotes -- the 'burbs are teeming with nature.  And that is just my tiny portion. 

Saturday Smiles

 No, Alice Cooper is not going to growl out his hit tune, but school is out for the summer. The oldest granddaughter is moving to middle school and had some friends over for a slumber party. As a consolation prize the youngest came to spend the night. 

Luckily she views it as a good thing to come o er and is overjoyed to get all of the attention. We went to her favorite restaurant for dinner (The Old Spaghetti Factory) and then came home and watched a movie.  

Life is good

Friday Music

 

Mellow Me

 So I was at the grocery grabbing stuff for supper, I did not have a lot of stuff but I did have 5 pounds of potatoes and a gallon of milk plus some other things, so I selected a cart instead of a little carry basket, 

I grabbed my stuff and went to an open self check-out line. I paid and as I gathered up my bags I placed them and the milk and potatoes in my cart to push it back to the lobby. At that time a middle-aged woman came up behind me. 

"Hey you," she said in a snotty tone, "Are you just going to just walk off and leave your basket?"

I turned and she was pointing at a hand basket someone had left next to the checkout.

WTH?

I gave her my best look of disdain. "Clearly, I have a cart, it is not mine," I silently added you f-ing busy-body self-important Karen. I resisted to urge to flip off this haridan and left the store. 

I bet she is a real joy to her kids and husband, if she has either.

See, I am getting more mature and easy to get along with in my old age. I avoided an easy confrontation with a real bitch. 

Sheesh

 I've been at this far too long. When I started this piece o'crap blog my youngest kid was 12. 

My eldest granddaughter "graduates" from elementary school Friday.  She will be 12 in December, 

I've been posting here for an entire generation.  No wonder I can't think of anything to write about.

Here's about 20 seconds you will never get back

 I'm back after a quick trip to Grand Rapids to see a customer yesterday. It was a nice and productive visit. 

I wish something interesting and blog worthy occurred on this trip. It rained. I doubt that piqued your interest. 

It is supposed to rain some more today and all week. It is May. 

The Cubs are 3-7 over the past 10 games. *@$%.

That kind of Monday

 

Final historical comment

 Sadly, the garbage in the past five posts is more accurate than the communist shit written by historian Howard Zinn

Here is a palate cleanser,  Dolly doing Jerry Lee:

Have a great Sunday.

A Thousand Years of History in Five Short Posts

To recap, A Norman Bastard invaded England and claimed the throne. For the next seven centuries, France and England fought over who was king of their respective countries. Their bitter feud came to a head when a bunch of rebel colonials declared independence from Great Britain and France stepped in to help. The Americans defaulted on their loans and the result was one of the causes of the French Revolution. In the ensuing wars, French General (and later Emperor) Napoleon rampaged through Europe, humbling the militaries of every continental power (except Great Britain). After the fall of France, Germany rose to power and influence in the next decades. 

In an ill-advised pissing contest, France declared war on Germany and it took the Germans about six months to utterly defeat France. The French were so humiliated and embarrassed they vowed to never forget. 

The French lost the Seven Years War, so helped the Americans defeat the British in the American Revolution. The French lost the Napoleonic Wars, so were jealous of the rising German Power. They lost the Franco-Prussian War, so demanded harsher-than-harsh terms on the Germans after The Great War (WWI). 

Economic conditions in Germany were so bad following WWI that the nation was in economic collapse. The currency was not worth the ink it took to print it. Unemployment was at astronomically high levels, exacerbated by a Global Depression (the Great Depression wasn't just an American thing). An articulate orator rallied the German people, exhorted them to greatness and promised a future where the Germans would rule Europe for a thousand years. People with no hope will follow anyone who promises a light at the end of the tunnel. It is a little-spoken truth that the best way to boost an economy is war, and well, those damn French (and the Jews) caused all of this economic pain so...

Germany invaded Poland on the way to France and the world exploded into war. 

And that is how an ambitious bastard Norman sort of, kind of, started WWII.

Why do you vote Democrat?

 177 Democrats voted AGAINST a resolution honoring fallen police officers. 

They did not abstain. They did not avoid showing up for the vote. The actively voted no. 

I am sickened. 

If you support this vote you are uncordially invited to never visit this blog again. 

Good riddance. 

Part Four, or a race to the finish because I am getting bored.

 In summary, by the end of the 19th Century, the French so loathed the Germans for their humiliation in the Franco-Prussian War that after nine hundred years, they make a treaty of friendship with the British.

All of the European powers looked askance at the upstart Americans who are raking it in economically without the divine guidance of a king, and as a result, all those Royals have given up power to elected representatives in order to maintain their way of life -- you know, living like royalty. 

There remained a bunch of crazy leftists who actually believed that insane economic theory crap spouted by Karl Marks and Frederik Engels. Far left anarchists believed they could bring on a perfect society by killing political leaders, especially kings. 

Now the Austrian Empire is by this time is a frail and wasting empire run by a weak and inbred family. Disgruntled people throughout the edges of the Empire are in a mild state of revolt. One leftist knucklehead murders the Archduke of Austria and his wife.  That assassination will lead to the deaths of 80-100 million people. Damn leftists.

The treaties kick in. 

Austria declares war on Serbia. Russia declares war on Austria. Germany declares war on Russia. France declares war on Germany. Germany declares war on France. Great Britain declares war on Germany. Turkey wants some of those Russian Black Sea territories so they declare war on Russia. No one cares much. The Americans are like, how can we make some money out of this situation?

What followed was four years of unmitigated hell. It was war at its most evil. Modern weapons against 19th Century tactics. Poison gas, tanks, aircraft -- all new advances in warfare entered the scene. The Germans unleashed the most evil weapon of all; they sent Lenin and Trotsky to Russia. The Germans considered Vladimir Lenin so awful, so terrifying, they kept him in a sealed, locked train car until they released him inside Russian borders. That evilness accounted for millions of additional deaths in the 20th Century.

Eventually, the French reminded the Americans about their aid in back during the Revolution, and the Americans stepped in on the side of the French and English and Russians. The Germans surrendered and the French remembered how humiliated they were by the Prussians in the Franco-Prussian War. They demanded such harsh terms on the Germans that an entire generation would suffer. These harsh terms would, more than anything, lead to WWII. 

Yeah, Yeah Part Three

 By the end of the American Revolution most of Europe viewed France's King Louis like their idiot cousin at the family reunion; he was going to double dip in the nachos and "forget" to pay his share for the hamburger and hot dogs. 

The fledgling Untied States was broke, the first government they formed under the Articles of Confederation was so weak it could not govern itself, and the new government it formed pretty much told the French "I know I owe you, but, I just don't have any extra cash this month". 

The French King was broke, he raised taxes on everyone and borrowed money from his neighbors to make ends meet. Instead of paying off his debts, King Louis partied. Hard. The French people were taxed out and starving. They looked across the Atlantic at the Americans and said "Hey, we could do that. We don’t need no stinkin’ king.”So the French tossed out the king and instituted some radical, far-left craziness that included chopping off lots of noble heads. 

European royalty looked at these events with alarm.  No one was a fan of crazy Louis, but he was their crazy Louis and if beheading Kings became a thing, well that was unacceptable to the kings of every other European country. That crap needed to end, like yesterday. As other kingdoms started attacking France, a remarkable Corsican rose through the ranks and became large and in charge. This guy was a brilliant strategist and tactician. He whipped the Austrians, then the Italians, then the Austrians again. He defeated the Prussians. Then Napoleon crushed the Prussians, Russians, and Austrians yet again -- and all at once at the Battle of Austerlitz. 

Eventually, after about two decades, the combined European powers defeated Napoleon and restored France back to a Kingdom. For the next fifty or sixty years France flirted with democracy and monarchy, changing governments every decade or two. 

Meanwhile, the Prussians started to consolidate power in northern Germany, ultimately defeating the Austrians in a little war. Alarmed, France told the Germans they better not, and I mean it, try to bring the German-speaking areas of southern Germany into the Prussian alliance.  Otto von Bismarck laughed at the French, stuck a rock on his shoulder and told the Frenchies, "I dare you to knock it off." 

France declared war on Germany. 

Germany defeated France in six months, one week, and two days. Pretty much five months of that war was Germany straddling France, dangling a big hocker over France's face telling France to say "Uncle." Historians call this conflict the Franco-Prussian War. I guess the Six Month One Week and Two Days War was not as catchy as the "Hundred Years War."

Germany forced France to pay an indemnity in exact proportion to the that imposed on Prussian by Napoleon. Those Euros have long memories. 

Hoosierboy Guide to History Part Deaux

 The English had just fought a war in North America to protect their colonies from the evil French and their Native American (no one called them that) allies. British politicians asked themselves why their constituents needed to cough up more taxes to pay to protect colonies from the French and the Indians when those colonists paid no taxes. 

The Parliament said the colonists needed to pay some taxes going forward. The American colonists replied that if we are going to get taxed we should get a vote on it. the Parliament said "You will take it and you will like it." 

The Americans replied "F@#k you." The King pointed out his army had cool red uniforms. The Americans told the king where he could shove those red uniforms. "Are you ready to rumble?" They demanded. War was on.

Now at this point in history the British army and navy were the most powerful in the world.  While the plucky Americans continued to fight, they lost most of the battles, but just like Cool Hand Luke, the embattled colonials refused to stay down.

Meanwhile, the Americans sent  smooth operator Ben Franklin to talk to the King of France. "Hey King, your cousin King George is a real dick." he told the King of France.

"I hate that guy," said French King Louis, so Ben explained that if the French would just give the Americans a little bity loan, the colonists would knock that bully George down a peg or two. Oh, and if Louis threw in some ships and sailors to sail those ships and a few regiments of infantry, victory would be guaranteed. "And money, don't forget the money," Franklin's buddy John Adams added.

"I hate that guy," Louis said again. "Do you promise to pay me back?" 

Ben Franklin looked over at John Adams and winked. "Sure, with interest."

So the French gave troops and ships and money, lots of money, to the Americans. Finally after seven years of war, Parliament looked at the recalcitrant Americans like a parent sick of arguing with their teenager. "If you think life is so easy out there in the adult world - good luck," and they took back the cell phone and kicked the ungrateful jerks out of the British Empire. 

Then those crazy Americans formed a country and established a government without a king. Heck, there was no nobility at all. 

The rest of Europe looked on in alarm.

Hoosierboy Guide to History

 About a thousand years ago a French Guy invaded England and proclaimed himself King and that is why WWII  (as in World War two, not, ahem, eleven) happened. 

For the next few centuries the king of England and the King of France fought over territory, over money, and over who would be king of France. Several English monarchs in these years could not even speak English, only French. In fairness, I cannot understand Old English either. 

Things grew so bitter, the French and English fought a war that lasted one hundred and sixteen years, but that conflict goes by the nickname The Hundred Years War, I suppose because some dorky historian believed it flowed off the tongue easier. Ultimately, the French kept the French throne and the English the English throne, and British monarchs then spent their time fighting their relatives, the Welsh, Irish, and Scots, the Dutch, and the Spanish and anyone else that irritated them. Basically the English were soccer hooligans before World Cup soccer was invented. 

Then the Spanish started bringing boatloads of gold back from the New World and both the British and the French wanted in on some of that sweet "exploit the natives" action. 

In North America the French went for trapping and trading furs and the British started sending over malcontents, criminals, and religious fanatics to colonize the wilderness. Everybody was making money, if you were a Royal or their buddy.

Things were going great until like a couple of selfish kids France and England started fighting over what would later be described as "red states" and the old animosities raised their ugly head. "Mine" "No. Mon" brought the two kings back to war and this time they only went at it for about seven years. Clever historians called this conflict the Seven Years War. 

The French lost. Their nation's collective psyche didn't take it well.

More in the next episode as we examine how Newton's Third Law of Motion applies equally to history.

Monday music

 

Happy Mother’s Day

 …to all you moms out there.

How it’s made

How does a priest make Holy Water?

He boils the Hell out of it. 

Ba Boomp

Shuddup. You will repeat it. 

Making the Rounds

 Four or five nights a week the video doorbell gives a “motion detected at the front door” alert. This usually happens in the overnight hours, anywhere from 1-4 AM. It is invariably a big fat raccoon walking across the yard, near the porch. Strangely, he is always crossing right to left. Heading somewhere, never returning. 

Where does he go? Is this part of his normal exercise routine, a normal walking pattern he never varies? Is this his route to work?  Is my neighbor’s garbage can the nearest “store” where he gets his last-minute “groceries”? 

I don’t know where the raccoon comes from. I don’t know where he is going. I do know I’m on the way to wherever it is. 

All that plus arthritis

 Here is a medical update you did not ask for. The hand doctor injected my recalcitrant finger with a dose of cortisone this morning. I should know in the coming days if that injection heals my trigger finger/tendonitis or if I need surgery. The good doc says injections work 75% of the time. 

My hand is still a little numb, so mouse handling is a bit sketchy right now. 

What is wrong with people?

 I saw a woman, probably around thirty, carrying a cat around the grocery store yesterday. She had it in a baby carrier across her chest. 

WTH? Are there no Board of Health laws? 

I’m willing to bet my next paycheck she is single. 

This day

 Not only is it Star Wars day, it is my youngest granddaughter’s birthday. She turns seven. This little one is filled with joy and fun. She has a great sense of humor. 

The wall next to my desk is covered with her drawings. She is so sweet and I hope life and eventually the cruelty of middle school girls doesn’t suck that joy from her. 

No accounting for taste

 I’ve always read a lot. For some reason outside of the Game of Thrones, I’ve never really enjoyed SciFi. I don’t know why. I vaguely remember buying a paperback back in the Seventies about a rooster, basilisk, and a dog. I found it weird. 

Aside: the internet is awesome. I typed in “Rooster, Basilisk , and Dog book” into the search engine and learned the novel was “The Book of the Dun Cow” by Walter Wangerin Jr. it came out in 1978. I’m sure I bought it because of the title. 

Some folks like rap music and opera. Some people don’t like John Wayne movies. I’ve even heard people opine that Sean Connery isn’t the best James Bond, so my unfondness for science fiction isn’t completely egregious. 

Softball Saturday

The temperature is in the thirties this morning.

…The  resident cardinals are getting “busy” on the edge of the gutter outside my window. Now one of them is singing in the broken maple tree. Life is universal…

Anyway, anyone who has read here a while knows I love baseball. The youngest granddaughter plays softball and she plays a game this morning. Near freezing temps and sitting at a ball diamond makes for a miserable morning. Just wait until one of those girls hits that big old ball with a metal bat! Ouch. 

It won’t matter to the granddaughter, her birthday is Monday and she is having a party with her friends this afternoon. 

Life is good. 

The coffee is hot

 I suppose it is a function of finance. Yesterday was payday, so it felt like a Friday. Imagine my disappointment to discover I have to go to work today. Then we must consider yesterday’s deposit was only possible because I am working. I better plop in front of that computer this morning, no matter my level of enthusiasm, if I want another similar deposit mid-month. So it goes, probably until I die. 

Can you spell inflation?

If we are a net exporter of oil, we shouldn’t be victims of the global increase in oil prices.

The president needs to open the straight or bomb the heck out of Iran until they do. 

Gas prices in Indiana have only topped $5 one other time. Trump is moving into Biden territory. 

My Dad always told me to never start a fight I couldn’t finish. True words indeed.

Way past time

 The UN just put Iran on the nuclear arms committee. Enough.

It is long past time we got a divorce. The UN should get out of the US and the US should get out of the UN. We have everything to gain and nothing to lose. 

The Great Food Pyramid of Giza

 I’m not sure coffee and barbecue chips for breakfast is on any government nutrition list. 

I’ve always been a very mild daredevil.

Much ado about nothing

Yesterday afternoon I turned off the computer a little early and called the workday complete. I moseyed downstairs, grabbed a handful of cashews and picked up a book. Soddenly, my phone squawked and squealed and announced a severe thunderstorm warning. The tornado siren began to howl in the distance. The phone alerted again for a tornado warning. 

I looked out to see the trees calm and the sky slightly overcast. Puzzled, I turned on the TV to see the weather guy detailing a fast moving storm ripping through downtown Indy and pointing right at Mudsock. 

 Unconcerned geese were eating weeds in the neighbor’s yard. 

The TV broke down the storm’s progress as it moved relentlessly northeast. As the front came closer the tornado warning was dropped. Then the storm moved up to the juncture of I465 and I69 and  it just kind of looked at the normal snarl of traffic and construction and said “nah, I ain’t doing that” and faded away to a moderate rainstorm that lasted a few minutes and moved away. 

Even the TV weather watchers sent programming to commercials. It was a big nothing burger here in the burbs when just a few minutes and miles away winds hit 80 and trees toppled. 

You never know. 

Suburbia Woes

 I have been up since 5:30 or so. I doesn’t really bother me, but I think firing up your mower to cut the grass at 7:30 in the morning is not too neighborly 

And The Starland Vocal Band

 I’m not sure which band is the most overrated, The Velvet Underground or the Sex Pistols. 

I might throw in anything by Steve Miller too. 

I thought it was obvious

 The Constitution does not give you a single Right. 

The Right to practice your religion, bear arms to protect your family and person, to say your opinion, no matter who it offends, among others, are protected by the document. 

These Natural Rights already existed. The Constitution merely enumerates SOME of those rights and vows protection of those rights from an overreaching government. 

Looking back

 Five years ago today we got a couple of inches of snow. 

Also on this date one of my best friends died from complications from surgery. He went in about a week prior for an appendectomy and never came home.

Grab life and enjoy it. You never know what tomorrow may bring. 

Black Cats and Stuff

 Hundley, Banks, Beckert, Kessinger, Santo. 

But the Cubs swept the Mets this weekend. 

I should write about Lexington Green

I don’t want to 

I will admit  I dig the Andy Hardy movies.

Remembering a time I never knew

There can be little argument the Beatles are the most influential artists in the history of Rock. Their history is fascinating from teens meeting in Liverpool to four lads playing 12 hour sets 6 days a week in the Hamburg red light district as 18 and 19 year-olds. Finding the right manager and ultimately the perfect drummer to unimaginable popularity and success. 

I go through phases listening to the Fab Four and then periods of skipping them when my phone plays my music library on shuffle. I have to be honest, I like the early music much better - up to the Rubber Soul album. The White Album and Sgt. Pepoer are crap for the most part. You likely disagree. You are likely wrong. 

When I was younger I preferred Paul’s sweet positive tunes. These days I prefer John’s more stringent songwriting. Of course, George's talent overrides it all in my opinion. 

One thing I’m sure we can agree on, whether you like The Beatles or not, the quality and quantity of music they put out in one single decade is unfathomable. 

Handyman

 I’m up early, the time stamp is real, but that doesn’t mean I have anything to write about. 

I went to the doctor for a routine visit yesterday. My blood sugar is way too high, he adjusted my meds. I need to adjust my eating habits. 

He thinks the pain in my hand is Trigger Finger. My right ring finger has been bent at a 45 degree angle at the end joint for a couple of years. In the past month or so I can’t bend the finger all of the way, it occasionally locks when I do get it partially bent, and I’m having increased pain. I thought arthritis, he has a medical degree, so it is off to the orthopedic hand specialist. 

I erased a two thousand word rant about my high deductible insurance. You are welcome. 

A $1.25 here, $1.90 there, adds up

It is not just the airlines that are padding the bottom line with fees, charges, and upgrades. As I paid my electric bill this morning it dawned on me the “convenience fee” I was assessed could equal real money to the utility. A quick internet search says Duke Energy has 8.6 million customers. If half of those households pay their bill online (and that’s probably conservative) the monopoly takes in an easy $5 million every month. So does the water company and the gas company and every other utility you pay. 

Now I could avoid this fee by writing a check and mailing it in, but given the state of mail service -at least around here- I’m not sure I could trust it to arrive in a timely manner. 

I suppose paying $1.25 to avoid writing a check, stuffing an envelope, finding a stamp, and worrying just how long it will take the postman to deliver said payment, is more convenient. It still seems like legalized theft. 

Thumbing through my rule book

 I guess we should believe all women until they accuse a Democrat . 

50 years was a long time ago

 Here is an excerpt from my First novel, Suburban Moon, Welcome to small town life in the 1970's:

It was Saturday Night, a few weeks later. The weather was more like early August; hot and muggy. The air was punctuated by the deep rumble of engines and glass pack mufflers. The shouts and whistles of teens mixed with an occasional car horn and racing engines. Some cars were parked, most were cruising at idle speed around Mary’s Drive-In. The cars were of various varieties and vintages. Dave Otto had a Dodge Charger jacked up in the back to accommodate wide tires. Next to him Bobby Bell revved the engine in the new Trans Am his daddy bought him and the Pontiac V8 rumbled with power under the firebird painted on the hood. An old Plymouth Fury station wagon had a different colored fender on the driver’s side. Jerry Schwartz drove past in his old ’66 Chevy C10. I swear it was held together by rust alone. Each vehicle blasted music, no matter the type of car or number of occupants. The music played a cacophonous soundtrack; radios and eight tracks turned to various volumes -- loud and very loud. Nearly all were playing rock and roll. The air smelled of French fries and sweat and Marlboros.

Or this...

Stuff you never asked for

 Geronimo and his band of Apaches surrendered in 1886. The US fought various wars with the plains tribes throughout the latter part of the 19th Century, culminating in the Great Sioux Uprising of 1890. Prior Indian wars raged through the East and Midwest in the early days of the nation. Those skirmishes and wars are the lore of American history texts. 

Somehow, the longest and most expensive Indian war is rarely mentioned. That would be the Seminole Wars fought over three decades and during seven presidential administrations. The Presidents, commanders and leaders of US troops in the Seminole Wars is a basic Who’s Who of 19th Century politicians and military leaders including Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison,  John Tyler, Winfield Scott, Zachary Taylor, and more. 

Thursday Deep Thought

One could make the argument that Skittles are merely semi-crunchy jelly beans. 

I’m not surprised at all

Imagine hating the president so much you actually wish for bad things to befall the US military. 

It is not really hard to imagine, the Democrats have taken this stance every time a Republican is in office since 1968. 

*spit*

A good time was had

 I’m back from a great week in sunny (most of the time) Florida. Sunny and 85 is replaced with cloudy, windy, and freeze warnings. Sigh.

I have about 100 emails to deal with along with my normal Monday reports. Sigh, sigh. And I even worked during the holiday. 

I know, I have no right to complain after taking a vacation. I would show you a picture, but Google will not let me post pictures or music on my phone. So it goes. 

Life Choices

 I went to grab some lunch yesterday. As I was coming down a long exit ramp from the interstate I saw a panhandler in a wheelchair by the left turn lane. He looked around, stood, and stretched. He walked around the chair, saw me coming and scrambled back to his seat like he was a finalist in high stakes professional musical chairs. 

I laughed and turned right. That is why I never give money to those clowns. 

Somewhere in the archives is the story of the panhandler in some place who set up camp with a “Will work for Food” sign across from a Wendy’s. Wendy’s was advertising “help wanted “. 

Liftoff

As a kid it was always a big deal when we sent intrepid astronauts into space. If it happened during school hours a TV was wheeled into the classroom so we could watch the launch or the splashdown. 

On a beautiful July day in 1969 I was in the house sitting at apt attention watching the fuzzy image of man walking the moon. 

I watched in shock as Challenger’s pieces arced across the sky. 

Yesterday I watched brave souls strapped to a rocket once again, after nearly a lifetime, head into space. 

This is a great thing. I cannot tell you why, but it is. 

I may have find The Right Stuff and watch it again. 

May God keep them safe.

I have no words

 Yeah, I’m still alive and well. 

I have nothing of note to say. I know, that never stopped me before, but it has now. 

Buy my book if you want to read my words. 

Get off the road

 If you are going to drive in the highway use your cruise control. I don’t care what you think, over the miles you cannot hold your speed steady. 

I’ve driven over a million miles. I am not exaggerating. I used to travel a lot. I cannot make the speedometer behave up and down hills and around curves over long distances. 

I am especially looking at the jerk in the red jeep Friday . Over the course of about 100 miles we passed each other 14 times. My speed never varied. I had the cruise locked at 78. 

And when it's time for leavin', I hope you'll understand

 You can never go wrong jammin' with the Allman Brothers.

Go Cubs Go

 

Getty images

Baseball! 

The Cubs are in first place, pending the outcome of today's season opener.

Only nine months until Christmas

 If you were curious, my neighbor down the street took down his Christmas lights last weekend. They had burned every night since before Thanksgiving. 

Kudos to him for keeping up the holiday spirit well beyond  any reasonable person in Mudsock. 

Put me in charge

 After the frequent government shutdown it is the policy of the government to provide the backpay for the essential workers who  soldier on despite no pay., as it should be. The non-essential drones who did not work - if I were king, it would suck to be you. That's the price you pay for the excellent government benefits. You knew the risk when you took the job. Private sector workers get laid off all of the time. Collect unemployment then go back when things reopen. 

The TSA workers refusing to work? Screw you. Use your vacation or sick time but no back pay. No work, no pay. 

This situation should not be. But you can't get paid if you didn't work. EOS.

Of course not

 Maybe the union representatives of the TSA should be calling the Democrats in Congress threatening to withhold support if they do not fund DHS. 

Of course not, the Union doesn't care about its members, and the Democrats don't either. 

There, i Said It

 I am certain the Devil really won. 

Another bad idea

 We had to quit producing the penny because it is too expensive to make coins. Somehow, the government thinks it is a good idea to design and develop a $1 coin with Trump's likeness. Yes, because we love to carry around pockets of heavy change, especially dollar coins that are similar to quarters. Let's ask Sakajawea about that. 

I'm not even going to get into the ego-maniacal need to put your own likeness on coinage.  Calvin Cooledge was a jerk for doing it too. 

Sorry, this is just another waste of time and tax money and the whole idea needs to be trashed pronto.

It was all dial-up

 This is my 8,755th post. It is not a nice round number like 8,700 or 8,800. It does represent a lot of words, sentences, and paragraphs about...stuff. 

On March 22, 2005. I was working in a house converted into an office building. I occupied a room on the top floor. I think there was a credit union downstairs. Some local government entity filled out the rest of the ground floor. The rooms to either side of my upstairs office were little studio apartments converted from bedrooms. My company was based in Italy and I was the only employee in the US. My task was to grow the business from almost nothing (I tripled the business in a little over three years). 

I had worked remotely at that point in my career for about eight years. That wasn't an issue. The problem was I had little to no contact with anyone in the company.  Our product offering was narrow, and you can only cold call the same potential customers so many times. I could only visit my existing customers so often. Frankly, I was bored. I had no one to talk to for large chunks of the week. I was expected to keep the international calls to the main plant to a minimum. Time zones and language would have made it difficult anyway, even if cost wasn't an issue. 

By random chance I discovered blogs. Grouchy Old Cripple led me to Velociman, who brought me to Gut Rumbles, and I was hooked. After a couple of months I thought "I have stories, I have opinions, I could do this." In college my professors said I was a competent writer. Why not? 

So on this date in 2005 I launched this piece o'crap blog. Was I goofing off from work? Yes, did I get my job done also? Yes.

It was my intention to shut down this hobby last year. Twenty years is a nice round number. But here we are at twenty-one and counting. I'm not quitting.  My posts may become more sporadic.  I find I have way fewer stories and a lot less opinions than I used to. Arguing politics on the internet doesn't interest me much these days. A big chunk of people are just plain wrong. Another large group is crazy. Quite a few more are, well, dumb as Hell. Those who do not fit those categories agree with me anyway. 

In my usual manner, here are a lot of words to say thanks for reading. I offer up an internet toast to the many blogs that have come and gone from my blog roll, to the internet friends I have made, to those who are no longer with us. Thanks for the entertainment.  Thanks for being there in good times and bad. This is a strange community,  but I sure enjoy it.