I wish I had more time for you, blog. You see, I have a week's worth of work to catch up on. And there is that issue of the flat tire on the car I need to get fixed so I can get to the airport for my early afternoon flight. I have to shower. I need to pack. I love you, but I have other priorities right now. I've got to make the donuts, baby. Don't cry. I cannot stand it when you cry. I will try really hard to pay attention to you when I get back, M'kay?
Lerves you,
HB
March 30, 2009
March 29, 2009
d'ja miss me?
On March 22 this old piece o' crap had its fourth anniversary. I was not here for it. As you might have guessed,given the weak content of late, I just returned from a nice vacation in sunny Florida. Do not hate me.
I got tanned next to the pool, burnt at the beach and thrilled at the Theme Parks (not Mickey's). I drank a few beers, and smoked a couple of cigars and reveled in doing absolutely nothing; no work, no blog, no bills, no responsibility at all. I walked a little and ate a bunch. I read and listened to music. I napped in the afternoon. The drive down was a breeze, coming back a burden. Construction and one bad accident around Atlanta left traffic snarled for hours. At one point it took more than two hours to go 15 miles. It was a marathon drive home, but we made it.
Maybe, if you are nice, I will post few pics in the weeks to come.
Now starts a new week. The bills and mail lay piled on the table. A week's worth of newspapers has been scanned. Emails read and a post is up. I leave on a business trip tomorrow. I have memories -- and another year of work before another vacation comes around.
I got tanned next to the pool, burnt at the beach and thrilled at the Theme Parks (not Mickey's). I drank a few beers, and smoked a couple of cigars and reveled in doing absolutely nothing; no work, no blog, no bills, no responsibility at all. I walked a little and ate a bunch. I read and listened to music. I napped in the afternoon. The drive down was a breeze, coming back a burden. Construction and one bad accident around Atlanta left traffic snarled for hours. At one point it took more than two hours to go 15 miles. It was a marathon drive home, but we made it.
Maybe, if you are nice, I will post few pics in the weeks to come.
Now starts a new week. The bills and mail lay piled on the table. A week's worth of newspapers has been scanned. Emails read and a post is up. I leave on a business trip tomorrow. I have memories -- and another year of work before another vacation comes around.
March 27, 2009
one final rerun
I am in a summer mood. This old post describes a typical summer evening in the late 1970's in small town Indiana. BTW, the guy going in for knee surgery? That is my friend who suffered the heart attack last week.
Originally posted July 20, 2007
One Night in Frankfort
The air is punctuated by the deep rumble of engines and glass pack mufflers. The shouts and whistles of the kids mix with an occasional car horn and racing engine. Some of the cars are parked, most are cruising at idle speed around Mac's Hamburger Stand. The cars are of many varieties, many are muscle cars jacked up in the back to accommodate the wide tires. Some are family vehicles or the old junkers the kids could afford. Being a rural town, there are a lot of pickup trucks. The music plays a cacophonous soundtrack, radios and eight tracks turned at various volumes -- loud and really loud. Nearly all are playing rock and roll. One of the stoners has a unique turntable mounted in an old marine compass in his van.
We cruise down the highway and turn into Mac's parking lot. Jeff's Camaro growls under the hood with power. We are not looking for a race, but we are trying to score some booze. As we slowing drive around the restaurant I scan the cars and crowd for someone who can score. Maybe they are old enough, maybe they have a contact. We briefly consider driving to Illinois, it is early enough to make the two hour drive each way, but we know we do not have the money to buy gas and beer. Besides, when we get back it will be too late to party it up before we have to go home. Jeff is not crazy enough to leave cases of beer in his trunk. I do not see anyone as we turn back onto the strip.
We join the line of cars traveling slowly down the highway. We make the turns through town and around the square. We head back east towards Mac's. Our vehicle is part of the summer conga line of automobiles cruising the strip through town. A girl in a halter top leans against the bridge. I whistle and call to her. She flips me off. The sequence is repeated by various cars and teen aged boys in our wake. She is there to be seen. We try and think of a source for beer. I wonder if my brother has any? We have not seen him cruising yet this evening. It is still early. I suggest we buy some cigars. As we pull into the grocery I spot Bill's Torino. As usual he has washed and waxed it to a brilliant shine. Jeff goes into the store to get some smokes, I head over to Bill's car. It is actually vibrating with the power of the speakers blasting the Rolling Stones. He turns it down as I ask if has any beer. After some teasing and giving me a hard time he says he will get us a case of Little Kings or Strohs. I give him a ten spot. He just made a couple bucks profit since those are the cheapest beers around. He says it will cost us six of the beers. I whine, but he knows I will give in. He is going to drink all night for free when he buys beer for the rest of us. It is only fair, he has the five o'clock shadow and fake ID. We agree to meet in an hour or so. He is on the way to pick up my brother.
We rejoin the line of cars and after some time park up on the square next to a cobalt blue Cougar. The driver asks if we want to get high. We consider it, but neither of us has much money left after paying for the beer. It is still a week until payday for us both. I was not much for grass anyway. We drive to the park looking for girls. We find a couple of other buddies, they ask if we have some beer and we tell them we have some on the way. They are going to pick up some as well. We park Jeff's car and get in with them. We get our beer and Brian drives to a seedy part of town. He goes into a house. We discuss the rumor that a guy walked through an upstairs window of the place while high on angel dust. Troy tells us he is going to the hospital for surgery in the morning. Ah, we are celebrating! Bill bought us Little Kings Ale, Brian drops a case of the same in the backseat of his big Buick.
Flying down country roads we throw the empties at mailboxes. Cigar smoke rolls out the windows and music washes over us. The smell of corn and farm mingles with our laughter. We head out to Michigantown hoping for a fight or at least a disagreement. The tiny burg is dead. We head back toward town and Mac's. We sit on the car and drink our beer from paper cups. We trade some of our beer for a pint of rum. We head inside to buy some cokes for mix.
Stars whirl through the night sky and the cars rumble through the parking lot. The music blares as the evening heats up. We discuss going to Lafayette, but we know we will sit and cruise and drink right here at home. Some girls stop and flirt, they are not interested in us as much as the rumor we have some booze. We continue to ply Troy with liquor, joking about our goal to see that he will not need anesthesia for his operation -- he will be feeling no pain!
After a bit we pile back in the car and cruise some more. As usual, Brian is low on gas. We all throw in a couple of bucks. We drink, we laugh and the the night rumbles on. The cars honk and music blares through the shouts and waves as cars pass heading the opposite direction on the strip. Four young boys, just on the edge of manhood, get gloriously drunk on beer, on rum, on summer, on the joy of being alive.
Originally posted July 20, 2007
One Night in Frankfort
The air is punctuated by the deep rumble of engines and glass pack mufflers. The shouts and whistles of the kids mix with an occasional car horn and racing engine. Some of the cars are parked, most are cruising at idle speed around Mac's Hamburger Stand. The cars are of many varieties, many are muscle cars jacked up in the back to accommodate the wide tires. Some are family vehicles or the old junkers the kids could afford. Being a rural town, there are a lot of pickup trucks. The music plays a cacophonous soundtrack, radios and eight tracks turned at various volumes -- loud and really loud. Nearly all are playing rock and roll. One of the stoners has a unique turntable mounted in an old marine compass in his van.
We cruise down the highway and turn into Mac's parking lot. Jeff's Camaro growls under the hood with power. We are not looking for a race, but we are trying to score some booze. As we slowing drive around the restaurant I scan the cars and crowd for someone who can score. Maybe they are old enough, maybe they have a contact. We briefly consider driving to Illinois, it is early enough to make the two hour drive each way, but we know we do not have the money to buy gas and beer. Besides, when we get back it will be too late to party it up before we have to go home. Jeff is not crazy enough to leave cases of beer in his trunk. I do not see anyone as we turn back onto the strip.
We join the line of cars traveling slowly down the highway. We make the turns through town and around the square. We head back east towards Mac's. Our vehicle is part of the summer conga line of automobiles cruising the strip through town. A girl in a halter top leans against the bridge. I whistle and call to her. She flips me off. The sequence is repeated by various cars and teen aged boys in our wake. She is there to be seen. We try and think of a source for beer. I wonder if my brother has any? We have not seen him cruising yet this evening. It is still early. I suggest we buy some cigars. As we pull into the grocery I spot Bill's Torino. As usual he has washed and waxed it to a brilliant shine. Jeff goes into the store to get some smokes, I head over to Bill's car. It is actually vibrating with the power of the speakers blasting the Rolling Stones. He turns it down as I ask if has any beer. After some teasing and giving me a hard time he says he will get us a case of Little Kings or Strohs. I give him a ten spot. He just made a couple bucks profit since those are the cheapest beers around. He says it will cost us six of the beers. I whine, but he knows I will give in. He is going to drink all night for free when he buys beer for the rest of us. It is only fair, he has the five o'clock shadow and fake ID. We agree to meet in an hour or so. He is on the way to pick up my brother.
We rejoin the line of cars and after some time park up on the square next to a cobalt blue Cougar. The driver asks if we want to get high. We consider it, but neither of us has much money left after paying for the beer. It is still a week until payday for us both. I was not much for grass anyway. We drive to the park looking for girls. We find a couple of other buddies, they ask if we have some beer and we tell them we have some on the way. They are going to pick up some as well. We park Jeff's car and get in with them. We get our beer and Brian drives to a seedy part of town. He goes into a house. We discuss the rumor that a guy walked through an upstairs window of the place while high on angel dust. Troy tells us he is going to the hospital for surgery in the morning. Ah, we are celebrating! Bill bought us Little Kings Ale, Brian drops a case of the same in the backseat of his big Buick.
Flying down country roads we throw the empties at mailboxes. Cigar smoke rolls out the windows and music washes over us. The smell of corn and farm mingles with our laughter. We head out to Michigantown hoping for a fight or at least a disagreement. The tiny burg is dead. We head back toward town and Mac's. We sit on the car and drink our beer from paper cups. We trade some of our beer for a pint of rum. We head inside to buy some cokes for mix.
Stars whirl through the night sky and the cars rumble through the parking lot. The music blares as the evening heats up. We discuss going to Lafayette, but we know we will sit and cruise and drink right here at home. Some girls stop and flirt, they are not interested in us as much as the rumor we have some booze. We continue to ply Troy with liquor, joking about our goal to see that he will not need anesthesia for his operation -- he will be feeling no pain!
After a bit we pile back in the car and cruise some more. As usual, Brian is low on gas. We all throw in a couple of bucks. We drink, we laugh and the the night rumbles on. The cars honk and music blares through the shouts and waves as cars pass heading the opposite direction on the strip. Four young boys, just on the edge of manhood, get gloriously drunk on beer, on rum, on summer, on the joy of being alive.
March 26, 2009
Yet another rerun
Sorry, the creative well is a little dry right now. I guess I used it up in this old post from 2006:
June 25, 2006
Die, you sick mofos
What is the difference between a crazed crack whore who breaks your windows, crawls into your house and spray paints her crazy, crackwhore shit on your walls and a fat, acne ridden, comic book reading, blowup doll fucking, dog turd eating, 40-year old loser, living in his Mom's basement with two cats that he forces to lick his milk soaked balls, asshole spammer that gets his jollies infecting your computer with viruses, dickwad?
That is the longest sentence you will ever read from this poor blog writer from the Hemingway school. Let me try again. If it is illegal to break into my house and trash it, why is it legal to send viruses that infect my computer? My kids have again infected one of my computers with a virus (actually several, only one remains) a nefarious infectious Trojan that is sunk deep in my operating system. I will get it, but I have already spent hours working on this bastid. Like the mondo worm I had before, we will have to run tool after tool to get rid of it.
Why can't we prosecute the perpetrators of these attacks? They are invading my personal property intent on destruction. What is the difference? If I broke into your car and spray painted Hillary for President on your dashboard I would be prosecuted (and probably shot). Is forcing my computer to your website any different? I find both offensive. Is breaking your window and throwing into your living room hundreds of handbills for sex houses and child porn illegal? Why is it Ok to do that to my virtual mailbox?
Here's to you Mr. Spammer, Mr. Virus sender -- rot in Hell after dying a slow painful death of a mutant form of mad cow disease you contracted by giving your neighbor's collie a blowjob. I hope your dick falls off in your Cheeto-stained fingers (assuming you can find it with a pair of jewelers tweezers). I wish you get kidney stones the size of boulders. I hope you trip going up the stairs wearing your Mom's old high heels and break your puny pencil-neck. I hope you choke on your Hot Pocket. I hope the pizza burns the roof of your mouth. I hope you hang yourself while trying that crazy autoerotic asphyxiation while jacking-off thing. I hope you get the plague from the bites of fleas living in the rolls of fat on your unwashed body. I hope you die alone -- surrounded and consumed by the hatred of the innocent people you have preyed upon.
Keep it up and I will get really pissy about this.
June 25, 2006
Die, you sick mofos
What is the difference between a crazed crack whore who breaks your windows, crawls into your house and spray paints her crazy, crackwhore shit on your walls and a fat, acne ridden, comic book reading, blowup doll fucking, dog turd eating, 40-year old loser, living in his Mom's basement with two cats that he forces to lick his milk soaked balls, asshole spammer that gets his jollies infecting your computer with viruses, dickwad?
That is the longest sentence you will ever read from this poor blog writer from the Hemingway school. Let me try again. If it is illegal to break into my house and trash it, why is it legal to send viruses that infect my computer? My kids have again infected one of my computers with a virus (actually several, only one remains) a nefarious infectious Trojan that is sunk deep in my operating system. I will get it, but I have already spent hours working on this bastid. Like the mondo worm I had before, we will have to run tool after tool to get rid of it.
Why can't we prosecute the perpetrators of these attacks? They are invading my personal property intent on destruction. What is the difference? If I broke into your car and spray painted Hillary for President on your dashboard I would be prosecuted (and probably shot). Is forcing my computer to your website any different? I find both offensive. Is breaking your window and throwing into your living room hundreds of handbills for sex houses and child porn illegal? Why is it Ok to do that to my virtual mailbox?
Here's to you Mr. Spammer, Mr. Virus sender -- rot in Hell after dying a slow painful death of a mutant form of mad cow disease you contracted by giving your neighbor's collie a blowjob. I hope your dick falls off in your Cheeto-stained fingers (assuming you can find it with a pair of jewelers tweezers). I wish you get kidney stones the size of boulders. I hope you trip going up the stairs wearing your Mom's old high heels and break your puny pencil-neck. I hope you choke on your Hot Pocket. I hope the pizza burns the roof of your mouth. I hope you hang yourself while trying that crazy autoerotic asphyxiation while jacking-off thing. I hope you get the plague from the bites of fleas living in the rolls of fat on your unwashed body. I hope you die alone -- surrounded and consumed by the hatred of the innocent people you have preyed upon.
Keep it up and I will get really pissy about this.
March 25, 2009
Reruns
Originally posted December 4, 2006
Ghost of Christmas Past
About ten years ago the movie Jingle all the Way came out. It was a fun, amusing Christmas movie. After another year or so it came out on video. On day around 2001 or 2001 my youngest went on a kick like little ones do and watched that movie every day. He loved the Turboman character. That year (he was 7 or 8) all he wanted for Christmas was a Turboman action figure. Oh, shit. That stuff had been off the market for several years. We tried to explain, but he would only reply that Santa could get it for him. Double shit.
We steered him to other stuff, but when Christmas came and there was no Turboman, he was disappointed. He even said so. Thus began the great Turboman hunt. We went to toy collectors, eBay, even enlisted people to help to no avail. Finally about two months later we found a new Turboman, in the box on eBay. It was expensive. We had it sent.
The youngest has always been pretty smart, he taught himself to read before kindergarten. He read the first Harry Potter book in the first grade, much of it out loud to me. It took him nearly a year, but he got it done. I knew we had to be tricky with this.
So I typed a letter from Santa, made up some North Pole letterhead, Christmas tree border and everything. In it, Santa explained that he was sorry he did not deliver the Turboman at Christmas, but the elves no longer made that toy. The head elf had had to dig out the blueprints and order the parts. Santa apologized and hoped my son would have a Merry Christmas a little late. I slit the flap of the box and slid the letter in. When the little one came home from school we said he had received a mysterious box in the mail.
He nearly crapped. I have never seen a kid so thrilled. As an added bonus it got us another year or two of Santa. In the end, I think it worked out even better than if we had found the toy at Christmas. This remains one of my favorite "Christmas" memories.
Ghost of Christmas Past
About ten years ago the movie Jingle all the Way came out. It was a fun, amusing Christmas movie. After another year or so it came out on video. On day around 2001 or 2001 my youngest went on a kick like little ones do and watched that movie every day. He loved the Turboman character. That year (he was 7 or 8) all he wanted for Christmas was a Turboman action figure. Oh, shit. That stuff had been off the market for several years. We tried to explain, but he would only reply that Santa could get it for him. Double shit.
We steered him to other stuff, but when Christmas came and there was no Turboman, he was disappointed. He even said so. Thus began the great Turboman hunt. We went to toy collectors, eBay, even enlisted people to help to no avail. Finally about two months later we found a new Turboman, in the box on eBay. It was expensive. We had it sent.
The youngest has always been pretty smart, he taught himself to read before kindergarten. He read the first Harry Potter book in the first grade, much of it out loud to me. It took him nearly a year, but he got it done. I knew we had to be tricky with this.
So I typed a letter from Santa, made up some North Pole letterhead, Christmas tree border and everything. In it, Santa explained that he was sorry he did not deliver the Turboman at Christmas, but the elves no longer made that toy. The head elf had had to dig out the blueprints and order the parts. Santa apologized and hoped my son would have a Merry Christmas a little late. I slit the flap of the box and slid the letter in. When the little one came home from school we said he had received a mysterious box in the mail.
He nearly crapped. I have never seen a kid so thrilled. As an added bonus it got us another year or two of Santa. In the end, I think it worked out even better than if we had found the toy at Christmas. This remains one of my favorite "Christmas" memories.
March 24, 2009
hungry hungry
I like grilled cheese sandwiches. Some bacon on that would be good.
Who will make me one, served with a giant dill pickle?
Who will make me one, served with a giant dill pickle?
March 23, 2009
March 21, 2009
Tired
Is anyone else as sick of politics as I? I think I am going to put a one week personal moratorium on discussing the inadequacies of the current teleprompter administration. Feel free to vent in the comments all you want, I just am taking the week off of politics.
March 20, 2009
They are out to get me
A few weeks ago I described the shitty rental car I was assigned at the Charlotte airport. I am convinced those assholes at Hertz are out to make me look bad. The car I was given this week was even worse. I am not sure how to describe it. Was it an oversize station wagon? Maybe it was am undersized minivan? All I know it was a Mazda and it was not only ugly, it was uncomfortable and terrible to drive. I would not pay $500 for that piece of shit. If you own one of these you should hang your head in shame. I bet you are embarrassed to even go to a hippy green AlGore rally in that thing. Am I paranoid, or is this the ugliest car ever?
And yes, that is the actual car I was given.
Oh, and Happy Birthday to me. Thanks for all of your gifts, you stingy mofos (sarcasm alert).
And yes, that is the actual car I was given.
Oh, and Happy Birthday to me. Thanks for all of your gifts, you stingy mofos (sarcasm alert).
March 19, 2009
Whoo hoo
Have I mentioned I have a wonderful wife? She bought me a new iPod Touch for my birthday.
I wanted to get laid, but I will be satisfied with the iPod.
I wanted to get laid, but I will be satisfied with the iPod.
March 18, 2009
Travelling with the Hoosierboy
I visited the Kings Mountain National Battlefield Tuesday afternoon. For those of you who have forgotten their 8th grade American history, Kings Mountain was a battle fought during the Revolutionary War. A British force of Tories found themselves surrounded on a ridge near the North/South Carolina border. The American or Patriot forces consisted of militia from North Carolina and a strong contingent of "over the mountain" men from South Carolina, Tennessee and Virginia. Both forces consisted of about 1,000 men. The forces of good and freedom (the Colonials) kicked the sorry British asses. It was an overwhelming victory. The British gave up on the hope that the war could be fought with "native" troops. Jefferson said Kings Mountain turned the tide of the war.
Here is the Memorial on top of the mountain:
Here is the grave of Patrick Ferguson, the British commander:
You should know how to make the pictures bigger by now.
Go here to read actual details of the battle.
Here is the Memorial on top of the mountain:
Here is the grave of Patrick Ferguson, the British commander:
You should know how to make the pictures bigger by now.
Go here to read actual details of the battle.
March 17, 2009
And so it goes
I just flew in from the Carolinas and boy are my arms tired! I had a couple of successful business meetings Monday, including a dinner with a customer at a top flight expensive steak house. Thank you expense account!
As I prepared to hit the sheets at the ol' Hilton garden Inn, my wife called. My best friend since seventh grade had just had a heart attack. He turned 48 last month and was in great physical shape. He was shocked to life in the emergency room and medivaced to Indy. The doctors put in a stint in the wee hours of the morning. His main artery was 100% blocked. So far, things look good. I am sure any extra prayers you send would be appreciated. His wife just lost her stepfather a few months ago. You might remember I wrote about it at the time.
Needless to say, my mind was not completely on my work today. A three-plus hour drive on little or no sleep did not help. Nonetheless, I managed to get some new opportunities to quote. A plane ride home and here I am, posting to this pig instead of snuggling with my wife. The things I do for you.
Apparently it is St Paddy's Day.
It has been a rough week or so.
As I prepared to hit the sheets at the ol' Hilton garden Inn, my wife called. My best friend since seventh grade had just had a heart attack. He turned 48 last month and was in great physical shape. He was shocked to life in the emergency room and medivaced to Indy. The doctors put in a stint in the wee hours of the morning. His main artery was 100% blocked. So far, things look good. I am sure any extra prayers you send would be appreciated. His wife just lost her stepfather a few months ago. You might remember I wrote about it at the time.
Needless to say, my mind was not completely on my work today. A three-plus hour drive on little or no sleep did not help. Nonetheless, I managed to get some new opportunities to quote. A plane ride home and here I am, posting to this pig instead of snuggling with my wife. The things I do for you.
Apparently it is St Paddy's Day.
It has been a rough week or so.
March 16, 2009
Kids are quick
TEACHER: Maria, go to the map and find North America.
MARIA: Here it is.
TEACHER: Correct. Now class, who discovered America?
CLASS: Maria.
____________________________________
TEACHER: John, why are you doing your math multiplication on the floor?
JOHN: You told me to do it without using tables.
__________________________________________
TEACHER: Glenn, how do you spell 'crocodile?'
GLENN: K-R-O-K-O-D-I-A-L'
TEACHER: No, that's wrong
GLENN: Maybe it is wrong, but you asked me how I spell it.
(I Love this kid)
_____________________________________ ` _______
TEACHER: Donald, what is the chemical formula for water?
DONALD: H I J K L M N O.
TEACHER: What are you talking about?
DONALD: Yesterday you said it's H to O.
__________________________________
TEACHER: Winnie, name one important thing we have today that we didn't have ten
years ago.
WINNIE: Me!
__________________________________________
TEACHER: Glen, why do you always get so dirty?
GLEN: Well, I'm a lot closer to the ground than you are.
_______________________________________
TEACHER: Millie, give me a sentence starting with 'I.'
MILLIE: I is..
TEACHER: No, Millie..... Always say, 'I am.'
MILLIE: All right...'I am the ninth letter of the alphabet.'
________________________________
TEACHER: George Washington not only chopped down his father's cherry tree, but
also admitted it. Now, Louie, do you know why his father didn't punish him?
LOUIS: Because George still had the axe in his hand.
______________________________________
TEACHER: Now, Simon, tell me frankly, do you say prayers before eating?
SIMON: No sir, I don't have to, my Mom is a good cook.
______________________________
TEACHER: Clyde , your composition on 'My Dog' is exactly the same as your brother's.
Did you copy his?
CLYDE : No, sir. It's the same dog.
___________________________________
TEACHER: Harold, what do you call a person who keeps on talking when people are
no longer interested?
HAROLD: A teacher
MARIA: Here it is.
TEACHER: Correct. Now class, who discovered America?
CLASS: Maria.
____________________________________
TEACHER: John, why are you doing your math multiplication on the floor?
JOHN: You told me to do it without using tables.
__________________________________________
TEACHER: Glenn, how do you spell 'crocodile?'
GLENN: K-R-O-K-O-D-I-A-L'
TEACHER: No, that's wrong
GLENN: Maybe it is wrong, but you asked me how I spell it.
(I Love this kid)
_____________________________________ ` _______
TEACHER: Donald, what is the chemical formula for water?
DONALD: H I J K L M N O.
TEACHER: What are you talking about?
DONALD: Yesterday you said it's H to O.
__________________________________
TEACHER: Winnie, name one important thing we have today that we didn't have ten
years ago.
WINNIE: Me!
__________________________________________
TEACHER: Glen, why do you always get so dirty?
GLEN: Well, I'm a lot closer to the ground than you are.
_______________________________________
TEACHER: Millie, give me a sentence starting with 'I.'
MILLIE: I is..
TEACHER: No, Millie..... Always say, 'I am.'
MILLIE: All right...'I am the ninth letter of the alphabet.'
________________________________
TEACHER: George Washington not only chopped down his father's cherry tree, but
also admitted it. Now, Louie, do you know why his father didn't punish him?
LOUIS: Because George still had the axe in his hand.
______________________________________
TEACHER: Now, Simon, tell me frankly, do you say prayers before eating?
SIMON: No sir, I don't have to, my Mom is a good cook.
______________________________
TEACHER: Clyde , your composition on 'My Dog' is exactly the same as your brother's.
Did you copy his?
CLYDE : No, sir. It's the same dog.
___________________________________
TEACHER: Harold, what do you call a person who keeps on talking when people are
no longer interested?
HAROLD: A teacher
March 15, 2009
AIG can kiss my ass 165 million times
I am probably late to the table with this story, but this leaves me infuriated. It is no wonder AIG is floundering like a killer whale on the beach. In most companies bonuses are paid for good performance, or when expectations are exceeded. In my company it is unlikely I will get a bonus this quarter, not that I am doing a bad job, but because business sucks. At AIG you get a bonus even if you do a poor job, apparently:
Why isn't anyone concerned I will quit since my compensation has been lowered? My company will lose some of the best and brightest if I or a few others leave. Where is the widget industry bailout?
I do not want the Government telling anyone how much they can make. No bureaucrat should take the decision how much is enough. As far as I am concerned, the executives of AIG have perpetuated a fraud upon the taxpayers. They should be prosecuted just like DOD contractors that pad their overruns and the crooked managers at ENRON. What is the difference?
For a better take, go read this post by GuyK
"We cannot attract and retain the best and brightest talent to lead and staff the AIG businesses, which are now being operated principally on behalf of the American taxpayers — if employees believe their compensation is subject to continued and arbitrary adjustment by the U.S. Treasury," [AIG Chairman Edward]Liddy said.The best and brightest? These people made decisions that have lost the insurance giant billions and indebted our children's children's with nearly a trillion in debt. If this is the best the company can get, I submit the company would be better off if the employees quit in a huff.
The large bulk of the payments at issue cover AIG Financial Products, the unit of the company that sold credit default swaps, the risky contracts that caused massive losses for the insurer.Maybe some of those people should lose their jobs. Good people lose their jobs every day when a company makes bad decisions.
Why isn't anyone concerned I will quit since my compensation has been lowered? My company will lose some of the best and brightest if I or a few others leave. Where is the widget industry bailout?
I do not want the Government telling anyone how much they can make. No bureaucrat should take the decision how much is enough. As far as I am concerned, the executives of AIG have perpetuated a fraud upon the taxpayers. They should be prosecuted just like DOD contractors that pad their overruns and the crooked managers at ENRON. What is the difference?
For a better take, go read this post by GuyK
March 14, 2009
March 13, 2009
Very Superstitious
Hello Sportsfans, welcome to another Friday the Thirteenth. Some believe this date portends bad luck. Fridays have been considered bad luck for centuries. Did you know the British Navy would not set out on a voyage on a Friday? When coupled with the number 13, superstitious people everywhere are wary on this date.
For those of us who have been repeatedly kicked in the crotch throughout our lives by fate, bad luck is a way of life. This date is just another day on the calendar. Put it this way, if I were to find a $50 bill on the sidewalk, not only would it turn out to be counterfeit, but I would be prosecuted when I tried to spend it! So I do not believe in luck. Bad things happen to us all and if you focus on the negative, that is what you reap. Anyone who has read this pitiful excuse for a blog any length of time knows I am not a roses and lollipops kind of person. I like to think of myself as a realist who considers the up and downside of everything. If you plan on things going wrong, then you are never surprised when they do and you have prepared for the worst.
Walk under that ladder. Look up to make sure nothing or no one is falling from the top. Break a mirror and then sweep up well, so you do not risk infection from stepping on a shard of glass in the future. Step on a crack, your Mom could use some time away from you anyway. Some people believe if you say goodbye to someone on a bridge you will never see that person again. This is only true if you push them off.
Some people believe it is bad luck to light three cigarettes from the same match. First off, if you are smoking three fags at once you have more issues than bad luck. Second, everyone knows that by the time you light the third cigarette, the sniper has you scoped in and you run of bad luck is about to end.
It is said that if you drop a comb while you are combing your hair is a sign of a coming disappointment. The chick at the haircut place dropped the comb three times while cutting my hair last time. I was disappointed in my haircut. And did you know some folks of a superstitious bent believe cows lifting their tails is a sure sign that rain is coming? You call it rain, I call it a cow patty. Whatever.
I have heard people say that it's bad luck to leave a house through a different door than the one used to come into it. It is harder to find you car if you do that.
Fishermen have their own set of superstitions. Throw back the first fish you catch then you'll be lucky the whole day fishing. Or you might go hungry. I wouldn't toss back the first one until I caught the second one. If you count the number of fish you caught, you will catch no more that day. Sure, if you catch "one". It's bad luck to say the word "pig" while fishing at sea. I say it is bad luck to say the word "pig" when you are in bed with your lady or man.
We all have superstitions. Some, like mine, make sense. I will not wear a stripped shirt to take a test. This order must be maintained -- left sock, left shoe, right sock right shoe. Never close your eyes at night if the clock reads a pattern (1:23, 2:46) or is on a five (11:00, 10:05, 2:20). These simple rules of life make perfect sense and should be followed by everyone. The idea that the dried body of a frog worn in a silk bag around the neck averts epilepsy and other fits or that a day on the calender is unlucky -- that is just crazy.
For those of us who have been repeatedly kicked in the crotch throughout our lives by fate, bad luck is a way of life. This date is just another day on the calendar. Put it this way, if I were to find a $50 bill on the sidewalk, not only would it turn out to be counterfeit, but I would be prosecuted when I tried to spend it! So I do not believe in luck. Bad things happen to us all and if you focus on the negative, that is what you reap. Anyone who has read this pitiful excuse for a blog any length of time knows I am not a roses and lollipops kind of person. I like to think of myself as a realist who considers the up and downside of everything. If you plan on things going wrong, then you are never surprised when they do and you have prepared for the worst.
Walk under that ladder. Look up to make sure nothing or no one is falling from the top. Break a mirror and then sweep up well, so you do not risk infection from stepping on a shard of glass in the future. Step on a crack, your Mom could use some time away from you anyway. Some people believe if you say goodbye to someone on a bridge you will never see that person again. This is only true if you push them off.
Some people believe it is bad luck to light three cigarettes from the same match. First off, if you are smoking three fags at once you have more issues than bad luck. Second, everyone knows that by the time you light the third cigarette, the sniper has you scoped in and you run of bad luck is about to end.
It is said that if you drop a comb while you are combing your hair is a sign of a coming disappointment. The chick at the haircut place dropped the comb three times while cutting my hair last time. I was disappointed in my haircut. And did you know some folks of a superstitious bent believe cows lifting their tails is a sure sign that rain is coming? You call it rain, I call it a cow patty. Whatever.
I have heard people say that it's bad luck to leave a house through a different door than the one used to come into it. It is harder to find you car if you do that.
Fishermen have their own set of superstitions. Throw back the first fish you catch then you'll be lucky the whole day fishing. Or you might go hungry. I wouldn't toss back the first one until I caught the second one. If you count the number of fish you caught, you will catch no more that day. Sure, if you catch "one". It's bad luck to say the word "pig" while fishing at sea. I say it is bad luck to say the word "pig" when you are in bed with your lady or man.
We all have superstitions. Some, like mine, make sense. I will not wear a stripped shirt to take a test. This order must be maintained -- left sock, left shoe, right sock right shoe. Never close your eyes at night if the clock reads a pattern (1:23, 2:46) or is on a five (11:00, 10:05, 2:20). These simple rules of life make perfect sense and should be followed by everyone. The idea that the dried body of a frog worn in a silk bag around the neck averts epilepsy and other fits or that a day on the calender is unlucky -- that is just crazy.
March 12, 2009
Hola
Hello Friends,
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your kind words. I cannot begin to express how much your thoughts and prayers mean to me. Thank you.
I have not read much news, so I find I have little to talk about. You are not interested in the personal details that seem to be taking a significant amount of time. The visitation is on Friday and the Funeral on Saturday and then the healing can begin. We had a minor inter-family spat as my wife's brother insisted nothing could be done on Friday, since it was the 13th. Finally he gave in and agreed to a Friday visitation. I thought for a moment I was going to have to step in, but the sisters outvoted him. It was a major concession since they (there are three sisters, one brother) all wanted to do Thursday/Friday. The good news is there is no money, no property so there will be no fights on that.
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your kind words. I cannot begin to express how much your thoughts and prayers mean to me. Thank you.
I have not read much news, so I find I have little to talk about. You are not interested in the personal details that seem to be taking a significant amount of time. The visitation is on Friday and the Funeral on Saturday and then the healing can begin. We had a minor inter-family spat as my wife's brother insisted nothing could be done on Friday, since it was the 13th. Finally he gave in and agreed to a Friday visitation. I thought for a moment I was going to have to step in, but the sisters outvoted him. It was a major concession since they (there are three sisters, one brother) all wanted to do Thursday/Friday. The good news is there is no money, no property so there will be no fights on that.
March 10, 2009
Words fail me
I cannot thank you all enough for your kind words and prayers.
My MIL passed away this morning. Posting will be light for a few days.
My MIL passed away this morning. Posting will be light for a few days.
On the Beach
Yes my friends that is your esteemed humble author back in the summer of 1985. That picture was taken on the gentle shores of San Padre Island, TX. I was grabbing every available chick and asking to have my picture taken. I happened to be married to the one in the picture.
The wife and I were down on vacation to Texas and we made a side trip to the Gulf shore to frolic in the waves and drink some beer. In those days that was my favorite occupation -- drinking beer, not frolicing -- as you can see by my hefty beer gut. In those years the basics of Fat In Indiana were born. The fat part anyway, the old blog did not start for about 20 more years. I was sure getting fat, in any case. Too much beer and too little exercise does that to you.
Anyway, the point of this post is not to do the Sherman and Peabody thing. Nor is it to mention I married way above my grade level. I managed to get that girl preggers some six months later, BTW. My point is that two weeks ago I had to buy a some new work pants. The size was smaller than what I wore in this picture. In fact, I purchased size 34 waist. I have not worn that since I was in college. It took 25 years to grow that monster fat ass and gut.
Two years ago my 38s were getting tight and I was trying on a pair of 40 waist jeans. I told myself "Hell no", and now I am just a little less fat. Two pants sizes less. I am still in Indiana though.
The wife and I were down on vacation to Texas and we made a side trip to the Gulf shore to frolic in the waves and drink some beer. In those days that was my favorite occupation -- drinking beer, not frolicing -- as you can see by my hefty beer gut. In those years the basics of Fat In Indiana were born. The fat part anyway, the old blog did not start for about 20 more years. I was sure getting fat, in any case. Too much beer and too little exercise does that to you.
Anyway, the point of this post is not to do the Sherman and Peabody thing. Nor is it to mention I married way above my grade level. I managed to get that girl preggers some six months later, BTW. My point is that two weeks ago I had to buy a some new work pants. The size was smaller than what I wore in this picture. In fact, I purchased size 34 waist. I have not worn that since I was in college. It took 25 years to grow that monster fat ass and gut.
Two years ago my 38s were getting tight and I was trying on a pair of 40 waist jeans. I told myself "Hell no", and now I am just a little less fat. Two pants sizes less. I am still in Indiana though.
March 9, 2009
Just the facts, Ma'am.
I heard the President say that Global Warming Climate Change, solar power, wind power, green anything, drilling for oil, or nuclear power.
Hope and change.
"[W]e are going to make scientific decisions based on fact, not ideology".He was talking about stem cell research. Too bad he is not inclined to make the same decisions when it comes to
Hope and change.
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