Serpents

Here is a picture of the bastard, not the one haunting my little bridge, but what he looks like. I am reasonably sure it is a Northern Midlands Water Snake. Last fall he looked like the darker serpent, Saturday he was the brighter color with rust coloring. I believe the age of the snake and molt stage have something to do with the coloration. These bastards are pretty common around here. The last time I went tubing down Wildcat Creek I saw at least thirty of them. Some were three to four inches in girth. These snakes are notorious for biting when cornered, but they are not poisonous.

I hope soon he is dead. I sat nearby with my pistol yesterday, but either he sensed my presence or it was too cloudy for him to sun himself. If there is one good aspect of the situation is my mole infestation has disappeared. There are at least three feral cats in the neighborhood, I keep hoping one of them will tangle with that damned snake.

Sheryl Crowe is so disappointed

I just used about 40 sheets of toilet paper. I also flushed twice.

That is what it took.

Teach Your Children

I believe as a parent one of our duties is to teach our kids valuable life lessons, those skills that will serve them later in life. My two oldest are beyond listening to me for advice anymore. The youngest, at thirteen, is a fertile mind ready to be planted. Yesterday was a perfect day in Central Indiana and I used the day as an opportunity to teach the boy a new skill. I showed him how a delicate flip of the wrist on a spade could fling dog turds deep into the neighbor's yard. I demonstrated how to just get the front edge under the pile...What? No, I do not have a dog, they let their little barking yapper shit in my yard. Why should I clean it up? About one more week and I will throw it on their porch. Saturday, while they and their dog and little impressionable girls were playing in earshot I shouted to my boy "goddammit look at all of this dog shit in the yard". Will they get the hint? Do I care?

Anyway after I literally flung the shit, I sent the boy to put the shovel back in the shed. He came back all excited. He told me the neighbors were in their backyard when I was throwing dog turds all over their front yard. He quickly determined I did not care. He then told me he heard the neighbor exclaim to his wife "Wow, look at that big snake on his bridge".

It is on people, the serpent of death and I CANNOT coexist. I am open to any suggestions, but the snake leaves or dies. The only other option is I move (The wife votes for this -- but she does not know about the snake, she just hates the house). Help a brother here, dear readers. Tell me how to get rid of a snake and I will teach how to flip dog turds with a shovel. If you already have that skill I will teach you to throw a curve ball or a knuckle ball (but not both unless you come and kill the snake for me).

Earth Day

Yesterday was Earth Day (I think) and I celebrated it by fighting Mother Nature and her minions. It started with the damn stupid robins assaulting my dryer vent again in a vain attempt to build a nest. The vent is bird proofed, but these dumber than dumb critters just keep trying. The banging on the siding and dropping of white shit down the side of the house finally pushed me to the limit. I crept around the corner and dropped the main offender with the pellet gun. That seemed to keep the other one at bay for the rest of the day.

Later, I embarked on a weed killing spree. I filled my industrial size pressure sprayer and commenced a chemical assault that would have shamed Saddam Hussein. Dandelion, clover, and some pernicious ground cover all were dosed heavily. I will not have much grass left when I am done, but the weeds will die, die, die. If a few tulips and ornamental shrubs take casualties, that is war and sometimes innocents take one for the better good.

For kicks I crossed the little brook and hit some of the weeds on the other bank, to keep them from spreading across like illegal immigrants jumping the Rio Grande. I understand the need for border control.

As I came back across the little bridge I saw a stick under the rail, I went to kick it over into the water and realized it was the tail of a fucking damn whoreson evil spawn of Satan lying in wait to kill me snake. I am pretty sure it was the same SOB that tried to sneak up on me last fall. For once I did not run in fear. I pumped up the sprayer to full tilt. I leaned over the rail and gave the serpent a mega-dose of weed killer right in the face. He dove over the side lickety-split. I fetched the hoe and spent the next twenty minutes trying to find him to cut him to pieces. I hope the weed killer makes it sick and causes a long slow death -- somewhere else. I intend to look for it to end its life today as the it will be even warmer this afternoon. I will not be able to enjoy my backyard and the little bubbling brook knowing the serpent of death is stalking me.

The battle rages.

More on Gun Control

One of the few topics I have refrained from comment upon here is gun control (until this week). Like abortion, there is no compromise on this issue. In the wake of the VT killings the lets ban guns crowd is rolling like a tidal wave. Let us look at the arguments:

If we ban guns only the criminals will have guns. This is true, because I and a lot of other Americans will become criminals.

Look salon had an editorial that proposed the Second Amendment should be repealed. The comments were unbelievable. Read this one. I could think of no more proof the average citizen needs the means to arm himself.

Holy Feathers Bat Man

I saw a bald eagle yesterday, in flight. It was unbelievable. I had seen them in a zoo, but this is the first time in the wild.

Some days it is good to be me.

Happy Birthday America

On this date 232 years ago a group of farmers stood and faced the greatest military power of the day. They stood for freedom from tyranny, for the belief that all men are equal, that man should not be taxed without a say in the matter. Specifically that day they stood to keep government from confiscating their guns and ammunition. Given the heated debate of today, that is very ironic.

From those shots on Lexington Green and Concord Bridge a nation was born. Conceived in violence, nurtured in freedom, she provides the greatest opportunity and freedom to man ever in history. Thank you brave men.

The Concord Hymn
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled;
Here once the embattled farmers stood;
And fired the shot heard round the world.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ten greatest events in the history of man

Yesterday's post about the beginning of the American revolution sparked a wider discussion in a comment from LeAnn. I claimed the American Revolution was one of the 10 most significant events in the history of man. LeAnn asked what I thought were the other nine. I find it interesting that Guy and I had very similar answers. Perhaps it the fact we both have degrees in history? Anyway, in no particular order here are my top ten:

The Birth of Jesus of Nazareth. Whatever your religious beliefs,there is no doubt Christianity played a crucial role in the development of Western Civilization.

The American Revolution Never before had a nation been founded on the principles of all men being equal, of liberty and justice for all. A mongolot of cultures and beliefs somehow came together to forge arguably one of the greatest empires of all time.

Marco Polo's expedition to ChinaHis discovery brought about the age of exploration, the discovery of new lands and continents.

The Roman Empire At one time they controlled most of the known world. Their culture, language and laws set the stage for Western Civilization. The Holy Roman and Byzantine Empires last well into the 19th Century. So much of our lives are still influenced by Roman Empire-- born in a city founded on the banks of the Tigris nearly three thousand years ago.

The Industrial Revolution The birth of factories and industry changed the world from an agrarian society to modern marvels. In just 200 years we have developed steamships, railroads, the automobile, airplanes, rockets, electricity, natural gas, running water, sewage, medicine, men on the moon, computers, superhighways, indoor plumbing, telephones, TV, radio, the list goes on and on.

Improved Communications from the advent of Morse code through the telephone, radio, television and the Internet we can now communicate better, faster and easier than any time in history. The ability to instantly make contact with humans around the globe has profoundly changed society. What would be the effect of a war of terror if there were no one to see the horrific aftermath? Would we be better off if we could not see the beauty of Pele? Instant communication and the TV have even changed the way we vote.

Man's ability to create fire This more than any other feat allowed man to adapt and survive as a species. I will lump into this category the ability to make tools and the advent of agriculture.

WWI and WWII The first caused the second and combined they created the ascendancy of the US as the first real superpower since Rome that influenced the world culturally, economically, and militarily.

The Empire of Alexander the Great The influence and the vacuum left by his death had ramifications from India through the Middle East

Abraham's Infidelity Are you looking for a root cause for the problems in the Middle East, Iraq, Africa, Afghanistan, Chechnya, Pakistan, the bombing of the World Trade Centers, the Trains in Spain and Great Britain, etc.? An old man could not keep it in his pants. Go ahead, look it up.

Let me know if you agree or disagree, a good case could be made for other events, tell me.

April 18, 1775

The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807-1882
Written April 19, 1860; first published in 1863 as part of "Tales of a Wayside Inn"

This famous ride put into motion events that can only be described as one of the top ten most important events in the history of man.

Gun Control NOW

As usual, my pitiful writing skills could never do the subject justice.

Mrs. DuToit says it in perfect terms. Read it and agree.

Gun Control now...hell no let us make carrying mandatory, I say.

A loss for words

Finding words on paper or in face to face communications has never been a problem for me. I find it strange that I have the inability to communicate at this time.

I was traveling to Chicago and back yesterday, so I heard most of the events in Blacksburg unfold. Terrorists, crazy, inaccurate reports were all ideas that crossed my mind at various times during the day. The whole thing was sad and disturbing. I am angered my the politicians looking to make hay, especially the representative from Northern Virginia (Rydell?) who blamed Republicans and the President for the massacre. What a sad, pathetic little man.

One person was responsible -- not a gun, not ammunition, not Virginia's gun control laws, not the NRA, not a delay in responding by University officials. The responsible party was a crazy fucker hell bent on murder, plain and simple. No amount of gun laws could have prevented this. Believe me, we will spend a treasure on the questions, but the how and why are not really important.

Tonight, while watching various news coverages, pictures of the victims flashed on the screen. One of the students bore a passing resemblance to my oldest son. A wave of pain crossed my mind. What if that were my child? I have a daughter in college, a son on the way next year. How could I cope if they were found, life blood leaking on the cement floor of a classroom? How do you reconcile the life of your child with an act of complete senseless, idiotic, bat-shit crazy violence? I thought I was going to cry. I have often been called a cold hearted son of a bitch, but the whole thing really hit me at that moment.

I am at a loss for words. I pray for peace to the families. I am helpless otherwise.God forbid I should ever know their pain.

Sorry

The women in my life, my mother and my wife, have repeatedly told me that people just do not get my sense of humor. What I find funny, others do not. Sometimes I hit the mark, other times I fail. I thought there were sufficient hints in the now-gone post to give away the joke: "Joseph K Simpson is my alter ego". It probably wasn't really funny in retrospect. What I was trying to do was find a way to reference a piece of writing I thought was pretty good (for me anyway) and when I found that photo of a man and his son at the beach with a boogie board (actually a wake board in the photo), I thought it went along perfectly with the story. Just a bit obtuse, I guess -- especially if you do not know my true identity.

Feel free to call me an asshole.


BTW, what if that was a an actual, two week old picture of the author of Fat in Indiana?

Let this be a lesson, never trust what you read on the internet.

Who is your enemy?

When you see the protests in the streets of San Francisco, when you see the riots at G8 meetings, when you wonder why we are struggling to win the War on Terror you ask yourself "who are these people?" Here is what we are fighting, here is the true liberal viewpoint. Here is what they think about corporations, about capitalism, about the military, about YOU.


Read it here.


h/t erica

a good thing

Weekend Funny

Y'know" said the Scotsman, "I still prefer the pubs back home. In Glasgow there's a little bar called McTavish's. Now the landlord there goes out of his way for the locals so much that when you buy four drinks he will buy the fifth drink for you."


"Well," said the Englishman, "at my local, The Red Lion, the barman there will buy you your third drink after you buy the first two."


"Ahhhhh, that's nothing," said the Irishman. "Back home in Dublin there's Ryan's Bar. Now the moment you set foot in the place they'll buy you a drink, then another, all the drinks you like. Then when you've had enough drinks they'll take you upstairs and see that you get laid. All on the house."


The Englishman and Scotsman immediately scorn the Irishman's claims but he swears every word is true.


"Well," asked the Englishman, "did this actually happen to you?"


"Not me meself, personally, no," said the Irishman. "But it did happen to me sister."

Calling Kilgore Trout

I intended to write a post about the death of Kurt Vonnegut. I wrote and rewrote it three times. Finally I decided my comment over at Og's summed it up best:

I loved Vonnegut in my youth. Then I grew up and realized he was full of crap, self-righteous crap at that.

There is really nothing else pertinent to say. And so it goes.

Now I have to worry about this

I have been having plumbing issues lately, I thought it was just a by-product of Algores low flush toilets. I hope it is not this. I may have to move!

The one I left off the list

Otter was disappointed I left Williamsport, PA off my list of places visited, so here is the story of my only visit:

So there I was trying to be a good brother. I stop off in the 'port (Williamsport that is, home of Little League and bridges over the mighty mighty Susquehanna) to visit my one and only brother. He says, how about a beer. I tell him I am not much of a drinker, but to be sociable I would have maybe one. We go to a bar, Otter has two or three beers while I nursed my one.

We go to another bar, I have a soft drink, Otter has several beers.

We go to dinner, I have another beer, since I do not want to be a party-pooper. I do not think I finished it. Otter has several more, maybe a mixed drink too. I call my wife and read from my pocket testament while Otter makes his 5th trip to the head. I beg the waitress to cut him off. Otter becomes belligerent so we leave. I am sure he short tipped the poor girl.

We go to another and then another bar, I am lost, it is way past my bedtime. Otter and his evil girlfriend tell me they are ordering me a non-alcoholic drink -- one that is cool, fruity and refreshing. I think 'Tom Collins' or virgin daiquiri. I discover later it is a dirty martini. I only had a sip, the drink was too strong, since I was so unused to spirits of any kind. I paid the bar bill anyway, just to be brotherly. Finally Otter took me to his house, I said my prayers and slept the sleep of the truly innocent. Not used to staying up so late, my head is light and I feel groggy. I am disoriented from lack of sleep and the couch actually felt as if it were spinning.

The next day I don my suit and head north to upstate New York to meet with my customer. I do not feel well, it must have been something I ate. I had to stop several times to crap, and my hands were shaking. Man was I thirsty. I decided to buy some water, and discovered my wallet was empty, my money clip gone. "I bet I dropped my money when I was paying for Otter's massive bar bill", I said aloud. Golly I was disappointed in myself. I decided I would drive back after my meeting and ask the bartender if he found my money. Otter called and suggested I should kick the guy's ass, but that kind of violence has never been my way.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I found my money clip in my jeans pocket from the previous night. Hah, hah it was sure funny, I guess I was just really tired from keeping track of Otter. Boy, older siblings can be trying sometimes! Anyway that is the story of my trip to the 'port. That is the way it happened, I swear on my Bible.

Lady Liberty Weeps

OK, I just have this to say about the whole Imus thing. I find it completely ironic the same people who will stand by an asshole burning and shitting on an American Flag, defending the jackoff's right to 'free speech', have cost this guy his job. The thought police are alive and well in the US. Well Fuck you Jesse Jackson, up yours Al Sharpton.

Since the beginning of written communications those in favor of a strong government have controlled the means of communication. Our forefathers recognized this and guaranteed the right to speak your mind. Clearly a segment of this country disagrees with this. Imus is an ass. The comments he has made about Bush and Chaney were far more offensive than these that cost him his job. The way you deal with people who offend you are to turn the station, not buy the paper, turn off the radio and TV. Censorship is never the answer, it is just another slip down the slope toward totalitarianism. I am not one of those paranoids who think the black helicopters are circling the compound, but I do recognize when our freedoms are challenged. Look at history, it is full of Hitlers and Maos and Stalins and Lenins who recognized the best way to control the population is to control the media.

The hypocrisy of Jackson and Sharpton and his ilk who are Jew haters and bigots at best and race baiters in extreme is appalling. A sad day indeed.

Gotta make the donuts

So many questions and so little time. I feel like I am being assaulted by rabid bunnies. More stories to come, but work takes priority. I need to make the donuts to pay the bills to keep the Internet running.

I had the weirdest dream this morning.

Otter, if you are reading, do you want to tell Richmond why the Grand Canyon is not on my list of places visited? This is a great family story.

And to think I saw it on Muberry Street

The post about my long-ago Texas vacation got me thinking about the many interesting places I have been. Through my job I have been afforded many chances to travel. In no particular order here are some cool and interesting places I have visited:

Graceland (twice)
Mud Island in Memphis -- very cool
The Baseball Hall of Fame
Yosemite
The Cascade River Gorge
Mount Hood
Mount Saint Helens
Disneyland and Disneyworld
Amsterdam
Paris
London
Frankfurt
Wurtzburg
Hamburg
Regensburg
Turin
Hanover
Tours
Toronto
The Windsor Ballet
The Austrian Alps
Mount Vernon
Door County Wisconsin
The locks at Sault Ste Marie
New York
Portland Oregon
Washington DC
The Battlefields of Shiloh, Gettysburg, Antietam, Stones River, Fort Pillow, Spring Mill, Perryville, and others
Kings Island
The Children's Museum in Indianapolis
Six Flags over Georgia
Stone Mountain
Universal
San Padre Island
Knotts Berry Farm
The Painted Desert / The Petrified Forrest
The Redwood Forrest
San Fransisco
LA
Chicago
Wrigley Field
I have swam in the Pacific, the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico
I have visited all of the Great Lakes
The St Louis Arch
The Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago
Myrtle and Daytona Beaches
The Vulcan Statue in Birmingham
Mammoth Cave
The Race Track in Darlington
JR Cigars
The Indianapolis Speedway
The Daytona Speedway
The Alamo
Bufford Pusser's House

I am sure there are more I have forgotten. What cool places have you visited? Do any of these places interest you? Tell which place appeals to you and I will write a post about my visit there.

Bread and Cheese, baby

Now here is the whine:

Enough of the rain and snow and cold already. It is nearly May.

Can we just drop the coverage of Anna Nicole now?

If Nancy Pelosi violated the Logan Act, she should be prosecuted.

Another few weeks of playing like this and the Cubs will be mathematically eliminated from the playoffs

I am glad to see the NFL is doing their best to keep from becoming the NBA, namely a league that caters to gangsta and thugs and paid for by white middle class fans. The traditional fan base is leaving the NBA, and ticket sales are dropping. Can the NFL stop the trend?

The idea that Indianapolis could not handle a Super Bowl is a joke. The Indy 500 and Brickyard 400 attract in the neighborhood of one quarter of a MILLION fans. The city has hosted numerous College Final Fours and the NBA championships. Indy hosted the Pan Am Games. Before the libtards ruined basketball in Indiana by trying to ensure every single school could be labeled champion, the annual High School basketball tournament drew nearly as many fans as the Super Bowl. When did your state draw 60,000 fans to a basketball game? Do celebs and journalists want to come to Indy in January or February? Probably not. State your objections for what they are, the city is no NOLA or South Beach, but to claim the city could not handle Super Bowl crowds is a joke and an insult.

If the Governor of Indiana fails to veto the huge pay raise the legislature just voted themselves, he will never get another vote from me. Oh, and local reps, if you voted for the raise you are sure I will vote against you in the next election.

When is anyone of either party going to do anything about the Hispanic assault on our country?

When are we going to admit we are in a cultural and religious war? Fight them now or fight them later.

Fucking dandelions.

Donald Davidson is already appearing on the radio, am I the only one who would like to punch that guy in the face? What does he do the rest of the year? (FYI -- he is the historian of the Indy 500 and bores us with trivia all during the month of May. Even as a history devotee, he bores the shit out of me)

How did the Pacers become so bad?

I just returned from vacation, yet I am sick of work, this house, the radio, the TV, reading, this blog, the internet, my family, and American Idol. Come on, entertain me!

What is bugging you?

Breakfast of Champions

I just had a Banquet brand Mexican-style enchilada meal for breakfast. I accompanied it with a glass of unsweetened ice tea. Screw you southerners who say you must have sugar in iced tea, I am already so sweet that any more sugar would be an overload. And don't you dare call me a Yankee, learn your history, Yankees come from New England, and they talk funny. I do not like sugar in my tea or my coffee. Get over it.

One of my favorite movies was on Sunday -- The Sound of Music. The boys made fun of the movie the whole time we were eating our late Easter Dinner. They made me miss my favorite part, the Do Re Me scene. I am making up for it by listening to the soundtrack to the movie as I write this. Does the fact that I like musicals and even own the soundtrack to The Sound of Music indicate some kind of homo tendencies? I can't help it, I think Julie Andrews is hot in this movie. Not as hot as Esther Williams in her prime hot, but sexy in a way. I liked her in Mary Poppins too.

I have baseball practice this evening. Afterwards I may have to pop in a John Wayne or Clint Eastwood movie in order to reassert my manliness.

Go Read This

If you have not read this post over at Grouchy Old Cripple, you are missing out on some true brilliance.

Then read this from Old and Evil, he is right on as well.

Texas Memories

The upcoming blogmeet in Texas has stirred forgotten memories of one of my trips to the Lone Star State. It was 1985, the wife and I had been hitched about a year. We had no kiddies yet, but we were having great fun practicing their manufacture. The wife had two sisters then living in the Austin area and we decided to drive down for a week or two and visit.

On the way down we decided to take old US Highways and state roads all the way. No interstates were to be involved, except maybe as bypasses around the big cities. "Crazy" you say aloud to the keyboard. "Why?" you mutter under your breath. 'Maybe' I answer to your first comment and that is just how I roll I reply to the latter. Hey, for the HB getting there is half the fun. The wife did not enjoy the journey much and we took straight boring Interstate home. The return trip was about two hours shorter and a lot less interesting. As a side benefit the wife was forced to learn to read a map to navigate us successfully there and back. Oh, and as a side note to the side note, did I mention we did this trip in July? Did I mention we had a Chevette, without air conditioning? I can hear you, and I do not appreciate being called a "totally fucking batshit lunatic."

We hit some of the tourist spots in that part of Texas, we partied in Austin, we went down to the park by the river, we viewed the tower where the sniper wreaked his havoc. We went to a huge bar where everyone was doing the Texas Two Step in their cowboy hats and snap pocket shirts. We saw the beginning of hill country. We went to the water park in New Braunfels and we hit the Alamo. We drank a few beers and rode the boats on the river walk while in San Antonio.

One of the best parts of the trip was a side trip for a weekend in Corpus Cristi. We went to check into our deluxe accommodations at the Holiday Inn. We dropped our luggage to find the room was not cleaned. As we went into the bathroom I understood why. Someone had been fishing and they had cleaned and gutted the fish in the bathroom. There was blood and entrails everywhere. I guess the maid just claimed it was clean knowing someone else would have to do the job later. The place looked like a mob hit had occurred. We had a great time on San Padre. There exists somewhere one of my favorite pictures of a young Mrs. HB in the sunset, long curly dark hair blowing in the breeze. The curves of her body showing clear in the back light. I cannot find it to post. Use your imagination.

The trip was for the most part good fun, except dealing with the wife's BIL (an ex BIL now, thank God) who was/is a loud mouth jerkbag. He was one of those "anything you can do I can do better" types. A full blown liar and a bore to boot. Her sister is OK , though. The trip was nearly ruined when their neighbors brought over their 'pet' black snake. I came pretty close to punching that bitch right in the face when she pushed me into a corner with the serpent of death. They finally decided I was not kidding when I told her if she touched me with that goddamn snake I would kick the shit out of her then I would kill her in her sleep and the fucking snake too. The near hysteria in my voice convinced them I was not joking -- and to set the record straight -- I wasn't.

In all we had a good time in Texas, our first real vacation together (other than our honeymoon).

Another One Bites the Dust

Another fine blogger has hung up his keyboard. Bob McNear over at Hoosierhawk has called it quits. Always gracious, he waits nearly two f-ing years to tell me I have misspelled the name on his blog.

Please let me know when you come out of retirement. You will be missed.

A Day at the Beach

He gasped as he stepped into the surf. He knew the Atlantic was cold, but the chill surprised him every time. The waves were a little higher this time. The ebb tide had turned and high tide was again on the make. His friend and their kid had gone with his son to the outer sand bank about 50 yards offshore where the waves broke just a little bigger. There they could feel the waves crash into their bodies and take turns riding the boogie board on top of the waves for 15 yards or so.

He had made the trip out twice earlier in the afternoon. He could wade out about 30 or 40 feet then he had to swim out to the sand bank where the water was waist deep at best. He had promised his son one more trip out through the surf. When the time came, he begged off. The sun and day at the beach coupled with the two previous swims in the cold ocean to the sand bar had taken their toll; the man was tired. His friend said he would go and with his larger teen aged daughter and the man's small teen aged son they set out, calling him as wuss. The man's wife heckled him to go, reminding him he had promised his son. The man got to his feet with a sigh and followed the three into the surf.

At the sand bar the waves hit with more power than before, coming quicker and stronger with the growing tide. The water was not so cold once you got used to it he remarked. Soon the tide made it time to go in. The water level at the sandbar was now at the man's chest level as opposed to barely waist level a few hours earlier.

The man and his son started back. The son was an OK swimmer so he paddled on top of the boogie board. The man waded along for a few steps then was forced to swim. He would climb the swell with a strong breast stroke. He was forced to stop and tread water to stay with his son. The waves were growing larger. It took more effort to climb to the top of each succeeding wave. The waves came quicker and he urged his son to paddle faster. A wave broke over his head. He saw a large wave coming and swam to the top. In the valley he could feel the pull backward, he swam forward and moved only a few feet against the current. The pattern repeated. Now the swim to shore was fifty or sixty yards as opposed to the thirty before.

He urged his son to go quicker, a little panic creeping into his mind. His friends were far behind him. He swam to the top of another wave, his arms and legs beginning to feel heavy. Again he urged his son to hurry. He was smothered in the swell again, this time he swallowed the salty seawater. His arms and legs felt like lead. He could not swim another stroke. He tread water for a minute to see his son, now 10 yards behind him. Another wave. "Come on" he shouted. Another wave. Always a good swimmer, he could not believe he was struggling like this. Another wave. His legs would not move. Oh God, he thought, I am not going to make it. Another wave. The shore was too far. Another wave. He went under again. He tried to swim, but his arms would not work. Another wave. He rolled to his back, knowing if he could just rest a moment he would be fine. Another wave. He swallowed even more water. He called to his son to hurry, maybe he could rest on the board for a moment and catch his breath. Another wave. His son saw the worry on his dad's face and mistook it. He shouted back he was fine. Another wave.

The man drew on every bit of strength he could find and swam a few yards before he was pounded down by another wave, he was closer. He wife began running into the surf, she could see he was foundering. His friend told his daughter to hurry and they sped forward. The man could not move his arms. He went under to see if he could stand up yet, the bottom still was beyond his reach, maybe an inch -- maybe by feet. The effort to climb to the top of the swell was all he could muster. Another wave. He turned to look at his son, concerned he was OK. The boy was dog paddling with ease over the swell. Another wave. The man went under. Pure panic set in, but he could not move his exhausted limbs. He felt sorry for his family, he was embarrassed, he fought again, but the energy was gone. Another wave. He struggled, he thought his tired lungs would burst. Another wave.

He at last felt the bottom and was enveloped by a warm glow the likes of which he never felt before. He was calm, he was peaceful. He felt another wave crash over him. He was no longer tired. Another wave pushed his lifeless body toward the shore, just a few yards away.

Break time

I got nothin'. The tank is empty. Time to recharge the batteries.

The kids are on spring break next week, and I am going to take a break from blogging at the same time. I plan on drinking beer, smoking cigars, playing catch with my boy. Maybe I will get laid.

Some time off will hopefully stir the creative juices and I will be back better than ever, ready to entertain you. Or not. The best thing for you to do is click here repeatedly. And do not forget links: give me bunches of links.

See you in a week or so.

Answers to my faithful readers

Mrs. JG asks "How can I keep my children & Mr Jose from driving me insane?"

Dear Mrs JG. You ask one of the eternal questions. You might as well ask me why is there air, what is the meaning of life, or why are turds tapered? Are there holes in your underwear? Of course, else where do you put your legs? Anyhoo, this is in the realm of HB. Like the Great Wizard of Oz, I have the answers. To keep Jose happy I suggest copious amounts of sex and beer. That great 20th Century philosopher Jeff Foxworthy summed up men's needs nicely -- 'Men want to see something nekid and have a beer.' The kids will quit driving you crazy in 15-20 years maximum. If you cannot wait, I suggest you play subliminal messages while they are sleeping encouraging them to join a traveling amusement show. A year or two spent as a carnie will give them the appreciation for you that may be missing at this time. As a side benefit the young ones will learn the secret of deep fried Twinkies and Snicker bars.

Imp asks "How do I track down that scum sucking anarchist piece of whale shit degenerate dog sucking turd eating goat fucking cowardly cunt no good son of a bitch whoreson mother fucking asshole who shit on a burning American flag, put a whoopin on his cowardly ass and get away with it? "

There are dozens of people trying to identify this asshat. I would like to suggest that there is not a court in the land that would convict you if you gave the guy the beating he deserves, but there are still Clinton and Carter appointees on the bench. I feel a little 'free speech' that involves setting the person in question on fire and then shitting on him would be in order.

Ralph asks "If I came walking up up to your front door, smelling like a bum sitting in a trashcan covered in booze and trash for day, saying my car broke down up the road , could I use your phone, but first I have to take a humongous crap, so could I use the bathroom first - would you let me in?"

No, but I would have a beer or three with you. Everyone knows those kind of special shits are best saved for a Burger King restroom.

Big Dick enquires "If you could write a novel, what would it be about?"

Well Dick, the novel in question is written in my mind, at least partially. A few chapters are finished, the balance outlined. It is the story of a young man in the early 1980's who travels the country tracing Kerouac's On the Road. He meets a variety of off the wall characters on the way. Oh, and he beats the shit out of a mime, so it cannot be all bad. The novel is supposed to be funny. My lack of skill and talent makes the work so far just pathetic. I like writing scenes, descriptions and action. I am not good at dialogue. I may publish the first chapter here again (it is in the archives somewhere). I also began a spy-type thriller where a hired assassin tries to kill the Vice President. I published the beginning of that one several weeks ago.

Cappy (hello and welcome, cappy) wants to know "What pain and torture would you propose for that scum sucking anarchist piece of whale shit degenerate dog sucking turd eating goat fucking cowardly cunt no good son of a bitch whoreson mother fucking asshole who shit on a burning American flag in Oregon recently?
Also, what is your favorite drink?"

Well, see above. In addition I would like to beat his feet with a baseball bat. What I would really like to do is take these over privileged jerkoffs to Russia, to the former Soviet Republics to interview and discuss life under a socialist government with people who lived the nightmare. I would take him to Cuba, and drop him sans money, sans ID documents to learn how good he has it here. I would send him to the Congo, not as a tourist, but penniless to live as a citizen. I would do anything to make these poor pathetic rich kids understand life is pretty damn good here these United States. After he returns, we should set him on fire and shit on him. As he is recovering from his burns, he will be allowed to read only the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution for at least two straight years, no TV, no visits, only the founding documents. When he finally grasps the true meaning of freedom and the promise of liberty represented by this country, he would be banned forever -- kicked out -- NEVER to return, like Adam and the Garden of Eden.

Orange juice, beer, Dr Pepper

Just who do I think I am?

I was lingering over my pathetic lunch of Stouffer's mac and cheese and a can of Dr Pepper thinking about this old blog. For over two years I have entertained mostly myself with a few good posts, a few really bad writings and a lot of mundane, soporific drivel. I really enjoy the rants, but such writing is exhausting mentally. No one can (or should) go through life perpetually pissed off. I also enjoy the few fiction pieces I have published, even if no one else does. The daily reporting of my life is likely the most boring aspect of this blog. Sadly after two plus years of writing I am not sure Fat in Indiana has developed into a place you can fit into a pattern, not a milblog, not a political blog, not a personal diary. Not much of anything, really. I guess it is a reflection of the author, lots of various interests.

In that spirit, I will revive a semi demi regular feature from the past -- Ask Hoosierboy. Leave me questions in the comments and I will endeavor to respond. Politics, history, personal stuff, anything is fair game, so bring it on! What am I listening to? What am I reading? What is my favorite drink? What pain and torture would I propose for that scum sucking anarchist piece of whale shit degenerate dog sucking turd eating goat fucking cowardly cunt no good son of a bitch whoreson mother fucking asshole who shit on a burning American flag in Oregon recently? Just ask!

What a difference a week makes

Wow, spring is bursting out all over. The magnolia, redbud and pear are all beginning to bloom. The grass is a lovely emerald and the crocus and tulips are starting to bud. By this time next week I will have to mow, if it keeps on raining.

Baseball is underway, and it looks like I will have a good squad this year. Of course I thought that last year and we went winless. I had not planned on managing a team, but they called on draft day and said please, so here I am in charge of a dozen 13,14, and 15 year old baseball players. The good thing about this age is you have weeded out for the most part those kids who do not really want to play. You have mostly good players who know what they are doing. I do not have to teach how to hit, how to field a ground ball. Mostly my job is reinforcing good habits and trying to correct little mechanical errors.

Did you see the story about the dog that supposedly gave its owner the Heimlich maneuver? I call bullshit.

My oldest son (18) leaves in the morning for a week in Japan. He will being staying with a host family and seeing the sights. He went in the same program a couple of years ago, so he knows what to expect. The hardest part is that communication is difficult as his cell does not work, and most families are understandably reluctant to allow long distance international calls. Sadly, I am sure he is looking forward to not seeing or talking to us for a week. Teenagers.

I'm a man...

...so sang the Spencer Davis Group. What makes a man a man? I do know what makes me tick. Here are 11 facts about my thought processes,what I believe. This is what makes me, ME:

I believe:

1. Farts are funny. There is no discussion on this.

2. There is humor in the pain, embarrassment and agony of others. I like the Three Stooges, videos of guys getting racked and excruciating sports plays. I am not alone here, look at the popularity of Jackass, sports blooper shows and Youtube.

3. I like war movies, westerns, and comedies.

4. The Constitution guarantees us equal opportunity, not equal success. If you cannot see the difference, you education is lacking. If you believe it states otherwise, you are a socialist, a communist. I believe every law should pass this litmus test. Does it guarantee equal opportunity (and NO MORE). If it helps guarantee equal success, it is bad.

5. Progress can not be stopped, only diverted. I used this line in an earlier post and the more I think of it the more I am confident it is true. If we do not embrace the future, if we do not strive for success every day, we will lose the race to others who are not afraid of change. It may sound strange coming from a staunch conservative, a devotee of history, but change is good.

6. Education is a lifelong process.

7. Anyone who believes the Second Amendment applies to militias is a complete moron who is ignorant of the BOTH English language and the historical antecedents of the Constitution. In the same vein, the Constitution does not guarantee a separation of Church and State.

8. It is your obligation as a man, a person, and a human to defend and protect the weak and those who cannot defend themselves. Evil exists, it is our duty to fight against evil at every turn. Killings in the name of God are murder, and evil. If you support terrorists you are a terrorist. There is no compromise on this. Those who give money and support to Hamas you fit this category. Ditto the PLO, etc.

9. I am blessed to live in the greatest nation ever devised. We citizens of the United States are blessed with liberty, wealth, and freedon unheard of in an society in the history of man. If you believe we are the terrorists, we are the evil, you lack a knowledge of history and an understanding of the world. Travel, read, listen and educate yourself. If you still feel that way: Move. You are not advancing society. Are we perfect?: no, but show me a society that offers more opportunity for success, more freedom, more kindness and tolerance.

10. There is no greater pain, humiliation, confusion, failure, and wonderment than in being a parent. Most days I have no clue what I am doing, yet somehow I have three wonderful kids. I would not trade my children for anything, and I would give my life over to the worst pain and suffering imaginable to make them happy, to protect them, to ensure their success. I can not imagine life without any of them. Parenting is by far the hardest and most rewarding job I have held.

11. Try and find some humor and fun in life. Often we forget this. Smoke a cigar, eat some Spam, drink a beer, tell a joke, have some sex. Politics might get us down, we may be flabbergasted and amazed people buy into the global warming hysterics, that Bush McHaliburton chimpy did this or that. We may hate the Clintons and their hypocrisy. We may believe Republicans are heartless. No matter what we believe, life is good in these United States. Enjoy life.

What do you believe?

Progress and fear

Did you see Peyton Manning on SNL last night? I thought he was pretty funny. To bad the show itself is just not real amusing any more.

The Governor of Indiana has announced he will scrap his plans to build a toll road bypass around Indianapolis. I am not sure if the idea was sound or not, but the opposition, hyperbole, and hysteria surrounding the planned road was astounding. How can someone be against a road where the course has not been determined? A letter to the editor in my local paper compared the road to a tornado, claiming it will be more destructive! People were convinced the road would go through their church, that the county would be cut in half, with no way across. Apparently, over and underpasses are not in the lexicon of these fools. I state again -- no path was determined, only a feasibility study! In 20 years, when the highways and interstates around Indy are choked with traffic, when the commute times double and triple, these same people will complain to the heavens about the need for better and more roads.

Reality proves without modern transportation infrastructure your community will struggle to find growth and success. This was true 150 years ago when people feared the railroad, to 50 years ago when similar fights were held regarding the Interstate system. Beyond the issue of taking land and using public money for roads, it is clear the cities and towns near the railroad and along the interstates are those blessed with manufacturing, with development, with growth. In the case of this highway, people from all over the state flocked to public meetings to speak out against the new road. How can a person that will not be affected by a road, a shopping center, a housing development be against it? This is a pure Luddite philosophy. Sadly, these same farmers and and growing elderly population will be complaining loudly about the shrinking tax base and rising property taxes. Wake up, Wal-Mart is here, and it will be replaced by someone with a better business model. Woolworth was the 'Wal-Mart" of the last century, and who knows what economic changes we will see in the future. This I know --the stores downtown on the public square, the mom and pop grocery are never coming back. The ideal life you remember does not exist any longer, if it ever did. Progress can not be stopped, only diverted elsewhere. What truly scares me is the number of people who think that is a good thing.

And so it goes...

I guess lying, cheating, rat-bastard commie, hypocrite Democrats just cannot help being who they are; namely lying cheating, rat-bastard commie, hypocrite Democrats. They came into office claiming to represent the people's wishes. I guess the "people" want a do-nothing Congress that is only interested in thwarting the Executive branch, losing the war on terror, growing Government and lining like pigs to the trough. The Dims have loaded their "let us lose another war" bill with loads of pork to make sure they buy the votes they need to get passage of a bill sure to be vetoed. Our enemies laugh up their sleeves in the meantime.

At least the Republicans were upfront when they stole from the taxpayers. The author of the 'bridge to nowhere' was unapologetic. Nancy Pelosi and her lying rat-bastard cohorts pretended they would stop this nonsense. Instead, they just hide the largess
to asparagus farmers and shrimpers in a defense bill. I guess it is a trait the Dims learn early, hide the stealing of other's money in an out of a way place. Is there a big difference in using pork to bribe a vote by hiding it a defense bill, or putting the bribe in your freezer, Mr. Jefferson? Can someone please let me know when we are going to have the ethical Legislature the Dims of both houses promised? When are you going to clean out the rat's nest of your party?

How much longer are we going to tolerate the posturing over the firing of 8 fucking worthless lawyers? If this is a big deal can we call Reno and Clinton to task for ditching NINETY-THREE? Attention, assholes, of course they were fired for political reasons -- they were political appointments.

What most disturbs me about the Dimocrits is they have learned nothing. They are trotting out the same old game plan that caused us to lose in Vietnam. They will not abandon the old tax and spend mentality nor the attack dog politics they have used in the past. The gains the liberals made in the House and Senate are more a reflection on the piss poor job performance of GW, than an embrace of the socialist agenda proffered by today's left wing nut jobs. Trust me when America finds out what the Dimocrits truly represent they will be swept out of office in a flash. That is why for the next two years we will see no legislation, just posturing, investigations, and the spread of pork on an unprecedented scale. After all, when you are a lying, stealing rat-bastard commie hypocrite, you just have to be you.

My little slice of heaven

Fresh bread, creamy smooth Jif peanut butter, honey and Cheetos, is there a better lunch on a rainy Thursday?

Wimpy Dads

Two kids are arguing over whose father is the wimpiest.
The first one says," My dad is so scared that when lightning
strikes, he slides underneath our bed."
The second kid says, "That's nothing. My dad is so scared that
when my mother works nightshift, he sleeps with the woman next door."

An old one, yet still a classic

First time sex

A girl asks her boyfriend to come over Friday night
to meet, and have dinner with her parents. Since this is such a big
event, the girl announces to her boyfriend that
after dinner, she would like to go out and make love
for the first time.

The boy is ecstatic, but he has never had sex before, so he takes
a trip to the pharmacist to get some condoms. He tells the
pharmacist it's his first time and the pharmacist helps the boy
for about an hour.

He tells the boy everything there is to know about condoms and
sex.

At the register, the pharmacist asks the boy how many
condoms he'd like to buy, a 3-pack, 10-pack, or family
pack.

The boy insists on the family pack because he thinks he will be
rather busy, it being his first time and all.

That night, the boy shows up at the girl's parents
House and meets his girlfriend at the door. "Oh, I'm so
excited for you to meet my parents, come on in!"

The boy goes inside and is taken to the dinner table where the
girl's parents are seated. The boy quickly offers to say grace and
bows his head.

A minute passes, and the boy is still deep in prayer,
with his head down.
10 minutes pass, and still no movement from the boy.
Finally, after 20 minutes with his head down, the girlfriend leans
over and whispers to the boyfriend, "I had no idea you were this
religious."
The boy turns, and whispers back, "I had no idea your father was a
pharmacist."

Miscellaneous Ramblings

A huge thank you for all of your kind birthday wishes. There was no cake, since I am trying to lose weight, and no nookie, since someone would not cooperate. That is pretty shitty for a birthday, don't you agree? I told her that if she did not want to join in the birthday fun she should at least hire me a hooker. That did not go over very well. Some people have no sense of humor.

I am sitting here listening to some Steely Dan, the recently released Definitive Collection was a birthday present. I am trying to decide which tracks to add to my iPod.

I had a good customer visit this morning. It is nice to meet new people, and this looks like a good company to deal with.

I am going to have leftover beef and noodles for lunch. I fixed them for supper last night since they are my favorite meal of all time. I have mentioned here before, if I ever find myself on death row, beef and noodles and mashed potatoes will be my final meal. What will you request?

Forty-five

Forty-five: approximately the number of links to this blog.

Forty-five: the average number of posts I churn out in a month.

Forty-five: this was my forty-fifth post.

Forty-five years ago these were the top five songs in the country:

1. Hey! Baby - Bruce Channel (Smash) *4 weeks #1* 1
2. Mashed Potato Time - Dee Dee Sharp (Cameo) 4
3. What's Your Name - Don and Juan (Big Top) 3
4. Duke of Earl - Gene Chandler (Vee Jay) 2
5. Twistin' the Night Away - Sam Cooke (RCA)

Forty-five years ago writer/director Stephen Sommers was born in Indianapolis

Forty-five years ago JFK issued this Executive Order

Forty-five: the atomic weight of Rhodium

Forty-five: the caliber of the world's greatest hand gun.

Forty-five: the approximate number of ounces of beer I have consumed this month.

Forty-five: my favorite ring gauge of cigar.

Forty-five: for a viking, you only a 15% chance of living this long.

Forty-five: the age of Lincoln when he was defeated for the Senate by Stephen Douglas

Forty-five: the age of Thoreau when he died. Also the age at death of James Agee


Forty-five: length in months of WWII in the Pacific.

Forty-five: How old I am today.

Happpy Birthdayyyy Hoosierboy!

Everyone be sure to wish HB a Happy Birthday today....True, he is not as old as I am, but he looks it!
Love Otter!

Pizza and America

Go read this post from sssteve. It is an interesting tale of immigrants and America.

Random Ramblings

How are your College Basketball Brackets? Did you pick those upsets?

Cherry yogurt gets its vibrant color in part from concentrated beet juice.

I believe I am addicted to orange juice and chap stick. Not together.

"What good is it to get warm out if all it is going to do is rain?", a quote from the wife when watching the weather last night.

I need to go see "300". My son said it was awesome. The story of Leonidas and his 300 men(and the Thespians -- there were more than a thousand of them fighting with the the Spartans) ignited my lifelong love of history.

I fried chicken last night for supper. What did you have?

It was nice to have the daughter home this week. The last two summers she has worked two and three jobs, and over Christmas when she was not working she was visiting her boyfriend in Chicago. It was good to just have her home.

Why is it you can find poker on at least two channels any hours of the day, but you cannot find baseball anymore?

Can we just forget about "Britany"? Oh, and how hard is it to take a simple blood test and settle the whole Anna NIcole paternity case? I just want it to go away.

If you are going to San Francisco...

My daughter came home from college last weekend for spring break (go Butler). I was a little concerned as she was wearing Birkenstocks.

I was relieved last night when she said something about "stupid hippies".

All is right in the world.

Another shooting spree on memory lane

There was always that kid in the neighborhood that just pissed you off. In ours he was the red-headed kid next door. His name was Ritchie. he was smug, and arrogant, and always had to be better at everything. He got it natural - his dad was even worse. You know the type; they had to have the first color TV, the nicest cars, new bats and ball gloves.

As we were about the same age, and he lived right next door, we played together a lot. We built Matchbox and Hot Wheels roads in the gravel driveway driveway. We played army. We rode our bikes around the neighborhood. We had a lot of fun. I would say that nearly every day we had a major argument about something as well, the kid was just an asshole.

When we got older, Otter shot him with the BB gun from about three inches, and once sold him a nickle bag of parsley. We laughed our asses of when Ritchie thought he was "stoned". The sort of kid you just loved to hate.

There were lots of kids in our subdivision, most of about the same age. As an example, if you counted down both sides of the street, there were probably around 30 kids on my block. All were within 5 years age of me (plus or minus).

The neighborhood featured small front yards and huge backyards by today's standards. Our yard was very large and the yards on either side were fence free too, so we had a perfect football field. In fact, it was probably close to regular width and about 150 yards long if we wished. Often the goal line was past a certain tree on one end and the property line on the east. We could get a decent game of football going, with anywhere from 8-11 on a team. The games were often violent affairs, full contact and it was not unusual for the game to break up in arguments and fist fights. More often the game simply became not football but "maulball", also known as "smear the queer", or whatever you might have called it. Basically the intent was to tackle whomever had the ball.

One of these football games sprang up on a warm fall day. Some of the kids had helmets, some shoulder pads, some none at all. The game was in the early stages, when new kids just jumped on a team in alternating order, to keep things even. We heard a shout from Ritchie's house -- "Can I Play". We told him sure. Out he came in a full and complete football uniform. Pants, shoulder pads, helmet, jersey -- the works. It was all a pure snowy white. He looked like a real football player.

He played for a while, the game was rough and Ritchie was lording above the rest of us about his football uniform. I am not sure how it started, maybe he was whining about the grass satins he was getting on his football pants. Maybe it was just spite. I do not remember who started it, I am sure it was one of us "Hoosierboys" (ie.; Otter or me), but some one took a rotten tomato from the garden located in the eastern end zone and threw it square on that beautiful white helmet. The rotten tomato exploded in a red mass of seeds, pulp and skin. Ritchie puffed in an indignant, chest swelling swagger. He made a move to the garden like he was going to kick some ass. So like brothers often do, we both threw another tomato. Splat on the jersey, splat on the helmet. Everyone though this was funny as hell, so when he started to run towards home, they formed a chain to keep him in place. Soon rotten tomatoes and green peppers were pelting the little asshole as he lie on the ground crying and sobbing. Everyone joined in the fun. Finally we ran out of old produce, or maybe we felt sorry for him and he ran home crying and telling us he was going to tell his dad.

I do not remember the aftermath. I think we passed it off as were having a tomato fight and everyone had participated. That was kind of true -- just the sides were slightly uneven. I do not remember being punished and I am not sure if Richie's dad came over to complain or not. If he did, my Dad probably told him to fuck off, he often did, even though they worked at the same place.

I do remember that we never saw that white football uniform again.

Just like Tippi Hedren

I think I have posted in the past about my loathing of all things avian. Birds are dirty and stupid. Robins and doves in particular get something in their pea-sized brains and that thought is locked for the duration.

At my old house we had a robin that decided to attack the window on the porch. Was he trying to fight his rival, did he think the other side was a perfect nesting space? Who knows, but for days he pecked on the same spot in the window dawn to dusk, leaving only when we opened the door or pounded on the window. H pecked himself bloody, yet never did he stop. He shit the porch and window sill to a white gooey mess in the process. The widow was a mess from slobber and piss and spit. He was like Poe's Raven, knocking and pecking on the window, never stopping. A pellet gun made that bird nevermore.

A few years later a pair of doves made a nest in the hanging flower pot on the same porch. By the time it was discovered eggs were laid. The wife would not let me destroy the nest. Watering the plant and leaving the front door became an adventure as the bird would fly right at your face. Every year until we moved we had to fight off the doves, who spent every waking moment trying to rebuild that nest -- every year, every day. Every morning I would tear out the nest. Every lunch I would destroy the work they had done. Evening, I was like the big bad wolf and the pigs -- I tore the dove's house down. They finally began to work at night and the pre-dawn hours. The worst was the constant whoo-it whoo whoo on the roof. We even quit hanging up a plant the last two summers, but they tried to build a nest on the porch rail. I put out a plastic snake and owl to finally get them to move across the street.

Now I have a robin obsessed with trying to move into the dryer vent in this house. I put up a screen, but I hate that since lint will eventually build up in there. That will mean regular trips up the ladder to make sure the vent is clear. The vent is about 20 feet up, btw. I watched the robin try and pull at the screen, luckily there is no perch so she literally has to take a flying leap at it. I am loath to shoot at it with the pellet gun, since if I miss I will hit the neighbor's house (I live on a corner).

I guess I will have to rely on the fucking snake that I know is hiding in my back yard to rid me of my bird problem.

Best line ever

"Judges should not have the freedom to legislate from the bench any more than a private citizen has the right to make up his own laws on any suburban street."

RTG nearly always gets it right.

Liars and Hypocrites

I have not been sleeping well and I have turned on the Today Show this week prior to starting work. On today's episode of 'unbelievably biased and incomplete truth in journalism', Matt Lauer grilled the Attorney General on the firing of the eight Attorneys. He made the process sound vindictive, political and wholly unprecedented.

He failed to mention this is a common practice of Presidents for a number of years. The States Attorneys are political appointments and are often fired when there is political change. In the late 1980's I spent considerable time on a Federal Grand Jury. The attorneys and prosecutors I came to know were all fired. They were of the wrong political persuasion.

Interesting enough, one of the vocal critics of the firing of EIGHT States Attorneys is no other than the Co-President herself. When Clinton took office he fired EVERY SINGLE States Attorney, and replaced them with his own political appointees. Forty-three political firings by a Democrat and never a reference from Meredith , Matt, or Tim Russert (I guy I once respected).

By not reporting the whole story Lauer perpetuated a lie, and again the major media outlets have used half truths to sway public opinion. At least the ABC News article I linked does include that fact. The Today Show again shows its true colors.

Look, I am no fan of GW. I think he will go down in history as less than ineffective, but a bungler of the worst sort who made things worse for Americans. The growth of Government, the wholesale invasion of our country from the Mexican Border and the poorly prosecuted war in the Middle East will all be laid at his feet (Notice I said the prosecution of the war, not whether we should have been in Iraq). This hub bub is nothing more than partisan politics and once again Matt Lauer and his friends are abetting hypocrites like Clinton and Shummer to demagogue an issue.

Shame. Too bad the Dan Rather School of Journalism has taken over as the gold standard for reporters. Fake but Accurate indeed.

You cannot make this stuff up

Do you remember the little girl from this post? She is the darling who brought "qwackers" for show and tell the week the letter was "Q".

My wife tells me the girl has no sort of home life, dad in jail, mom perpetually pregnant while in and out of jail too. The mother is currently pregnant for her second baby (the last one is 2 months old) since the dad went to jail. The little girl practically raises herself. It appears the girl gets no help or guidance with her school work. The wife says the girl is cute as a doll, and fairly smart, for a kindergartner.

Anyway, this week's letter was "W". The little intrepid brought in a pink gum "waser".

Hello Walls

It was a great weekend in central Hoosierland. There were no rattlesnake roundups, but the baseball season officially began as we had tryouts on Saturday. The boy did fine. He moves to a regular sized diamond this year. It will be quite a change.

The warm weather gave me spring fever, and the weatherman's prediction of cold temps and possible snow flurries on Friday was depressing. It snowed while I was in Chicago last week, and I am really getting sick of winter.

We did our spring forward thing with the clocks. I am still not used to it. Now it is again dark when the kids head for school. There was still a twinge of light in the western sky at 7:45 last night. If we have to observe DST, why aren't we on Central Time at least?

I am woman, hear me roar

Sieg, at the Atavist is one of my favorite stops. He has a unique and honest outlook on life. He has a very interesting and entertaining post up on the relationships between men and women. Give it a read.

Weekend Funny

Updates

Check out the blogroll. You might be officially rolled. Read the links over there on the roll 'else little bunnies might die a painful death with their heads stuck beneath a barb wire fence. I am not threatening, I am just sayin'.

MEN...

Men are the same everywhere, no matter what your species.



click to embiggin.

contributed by Otter

When I am king of the forrrrresssttt

The whiny lion and his "King of the Forrest" song are my least favorite portions of the Wizard of Oz. This will be pertinent in a minute.

During my trip this week to the Second City, I was listening to my iPod in the car. I have one of those nifty devices that plays it over the radio. It works really well too. Anyway, here is the weird part -- the player was on shuffle and Neil Young's Southern Man was followed by Skynard's Sweet Home Alabama. Is that some kind of musical irony or what?

I came to another conclusion, I really hate those drivers who think they need to drive in the left lane for mile upon mile, even when the right lane is empty. Yesterday I must have come upon 15 drivers poking along in the PASSING LANE. Interestingly, the vast majority of the drivers were from Michigan.

When I am "King of all that is good and reasonable and arbiter of taste and common sense, Ruler of the Forest, the Earth and Seas" I will mount on the front of my car a huge plow. I will then just push these jerkoffs right or left and out of my path. I will clear the road for those of us who have a need to get where we are going. The passing lane will be for passing. I will also clear the city streets of those who feel the need to travel at one half the posted speed limit. I will shove aside those who cannot make up their mind at the McDonald's drive through. I shall render the streets safe from old ladies who stop at every intersection. I shall plow away the scourge of the byways -- the punk kids in their lowered Honda Civics, base blaring and thumping a hypnotic hump, hump, hump you can feel three cars away. These will be among my first acts when I am proclaimed "King of all that is good and reasonable and arbiter of taste and common sense, Ruler of the Forest, the Earth and Seas". The second will be to hunt down that faggot lion and kick his crybaby ass.

Long live the King, Long live his car plow.

Welcome to my life

John O'Reilly hoisted his beer and said, "Here's to
spending the rest of m'life, 'tween the legs of m'wife!" That won him the top prize at the pub for the best toast of the night!

He went home and told his wife, Mary, "I won the
prize for the Best toast of the night"

She said, "Aye, did ye now. And what was your toast?"

John said, "Here's to spending the rest of m'life,
sitting in church beside me wife."

Oh, that is very nice indeed, John!" Mary said.

The next day, Mary ran into one of John's drinking
buddies on the street corner.

The man chuckled leeringly and said, "John won the
prize the other night at the pub with a toast about you, Mary."

She said, "Aye, he told me, and I was a bit surprised
myself. You know, he's only been there twice in the last four years. Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come."

They are among us

Here is my vote. The former sailor and would-be Islamofacist deserves a fair trial. If he is found guilty he should be executed within 3 months. This is treason at its very core. This has nothing to do with his religion, he swore an oath and betrayed his country. He aided and abetted the enemy. He deserves a quick and certain death.

These people are in our midst. When will the supposed members of the Islamic community that are against this sort of this going to stand up and cry out for it to stop. You and I both know -- NEVER.

This treasonous Benedict Arnold must die.

Liars, and the liars who lie about them

According to Pelosi, the MSM, the Democrat Party and the NY Times, lying under oath to a grand jury like Scooter Libby did is a terrible crime and shows just how corrupt is the current administration. These pundits clamor for the most severe penalty.

Why, when William Jefferson Clinton did the same -- lie to a grand jury under oath --was it no big deal?

Hillary For President

I will be seeing more customers before heading home later today.

There was a spot on the Today Show this morning discussing the Hildebeasts focus on being a woman. The piece said Clinton makes sure that she pushes the "I am a woman and it is time for a woman to be President" at every campaign stop. What is sad is that approach seems to be working. Good God, why would we vote for someone just because they are female, or black, or whatever. Why don't we take a novel approach and look at a person's political views? Well. the press does not want that to happen because no Democrat would be ever elected again if most Americans knew what they stood for.

Think Hillary would be a good President? She is a liar and changes her approach based on what she thinks people want to hear. If you are a supporter of hers tell me why in the comments. I know what my response to you will be"

Fucking idiot.

Smoke follows Beauty -- and Beauty was a horse.

Here I am in the Western suburbs of Chicago, doing my work thing. Bad news on one front, we will not get a chunk of business we recently quoted. Win some lose some, but I sure wanted this piece of business. I guess I will drown my sorrow in a beer with dinner.

I had the strangest dreams last night, all of them had to do with camping, hiking or being in the woods. The last one I was walking the trails of Camp Cullom, an old Boy Scout camp of my youth. I have not been there in 20 years, at least. Now it is some bullshit nature preserve or such. They planted trees on the athletic fields and on the parade ground. They tore out the dam and made the waterfront into some kind of wetlands. I do not think they even allow camping any more. Almost all of the old Boy Scout camping areas I frequented as a snot-nose punk kid are not used any more. If you are from Central Indiana you will remember Camp K, Redwing, Rotary, Bear Creek, Cullom -- I camped at all of them.

In my dream, I could remember each trail in perfect detail, even the rarely used one over on the third ridge. Dreams are so strange. I was just walking. Do any of you Freudians out there know what this dream might mean?

I remember one time at Cullom sitting on the trail and I saw three does walk by within twenty yards of me. That same afternoon I watched a box turtle walk down the path pst my feet. I must have sat there motionless for hours. Probably I was supposed to be off doing some Boy Scout thing, but I preferred to run off to the woods.

It has been a long time since I camped or hiked in the woods.

Plop Plop fizz fizz

The wife is home sick today. She puked more Saturday night than I have ever seen from a single human being. Everywhere -- the bathroom floor, rug, sink, her arms, her shoes. her pants...She did not have a drop to drink. She ate the same food as the rest of us. To make it worse, we where at our friends house. It is bad enough to puke up your own house, but some one else's? She is still weak and sore today. This means a major inconvenience since my "office" is in the bedroom. Hey, It is all about me, people.

Yesterday I did nothing. Read blogs, watched movies. I did not shower, I did not shave. I did brush my teeth. Threw a couple of hot dogs on the grill for supper for me and the little one. The oldest was off delivering pizzas.

Baseball tryouts are Saturday, I guess spring is nearly here, you sure cannot tell by the weather. I am ready, the boy is ready. Too bad we have not been able to throw a ball -- there has been snow on the ground for weeks, or else rain and cold or all three. He has not thrown since he shattered his arm playing football. He did do a little inside batting last month, at least.

I have the Mommas and the Papas running through the old brain pan this morning. Guess which tune?

have several blogs to add to the old blogroll, as soon as I get the ambition and courage to attack the old template. Patience people.

Sunday

Sunday. Here I am cruising through the old blogroll. This is the day I check in on the slackers, the Goldblooms those who do not posts anymore.

How are the reruns going over? I have enjoyed reading some of the old stuff. I sit here at the keyboard, usually writing in a stream of consciousness -- brain to fingers to a poorly spelled incoherent rambling and on to the vast wasteland of the ethernet. The words and thoughts gone but never lost.

How do you write? I usually think the idea in my head and the words flow to "paper". This is how I wrote term papers as well in college. I would get the beginning in my head and the rest would just flow. Even very long papers - 10, 20 pages in length I would usually write at one sitting, stopping only to find a fact, a quote, a reference. I write this blog that way. Usually I do little or no revision once the idea is committed to words. Maybe you can tell?

A pair of cardinals are sitting in the magnolia, and the neighbors cat is looking at me through the patio door. The dryer is banging away as my son's work clothes tumble. Happy Sunday.

Whine, sob, or just TMI?

I am not sure what to say about this piece:

Monday, October 10, 2005

Dreams and demons: a day in my life.

I do not often relate personal information on this blog. I like the anonymity, it is safe, there is no rejection, no laughter, no condemnation. I can rant about politics, the unfairness of life. I can tell my jokes, describe the humor I find in every day situations. I have never been one who sits around talking about my feelings. It was just the way I was raised; the guy code. Crying is for pussies, only girls talk about their emotions. Somehow I find myself strangely moved by two very different individuals and their writings today.

The first comes from Bane and his discussion of writing. Bane tells us you have to like your writing for it to be good. I think he is correct. I once fancied myself a good writer. Recently I went back and read through some of my old notebooks of writings and short stories I have composed during my life. Some of it is quite good. I have reread some of my early posts on this blog, and I also think they are decent pieces of writing. Lately, I have not been composing my thoughts in a way that spins mental poetry on the paper, as such. I have not used the language to paint pictures, to frame beautiful arguments, to leave you spellbound in my story. In other words, I do not like my writing on this blog of late. Ergo sum, whatever, it is just not very good.

The second piece is from the waiterrant blog. The man is a true storyteller, he writes with grace and efficiency. His kind soul and feeling for life is felt in every entry, yet underneath there is always a sadness to his tale. In the linked entry, the Waiter talks about the demons in his life, the aloneness that influences his writing.

I think, on a different level I too am suffering, beset by my own demons. Most are self created. I feel alone, fighting the storms that threatened to swallow my soul. Some days I feel powerless to cope, unable to go on. I think I am on a slippery rock, my toes keeping a tenuous hold as the flood water rages around me , occasional waves sweeping up my legs. I slip, I totter, but somehow manage to stay on top. I think maybe the next wave will knock me down, to be swept away to nothingness.

Do you ever feel that life has slipped away? Maybe it is the beginning of midlife crisis. Some days I feel my love is unrequited. Does my wife stay with me only because the idea of being alone is too difficult? Am I just a paycheck? That is the impression I get sometimes. I know I am harsh, unpleasant, my comments laced with sarcasm on occasion. It is often joked that it is good I am not a doctor, I have no patience. Regarding me, my daughter is indifferent, my son angry, the little one attached to comfort, hates change. Has my sole contribution to the legacy of my family become "turn off the lights", "you need to be studying", and "turn down that music"? How do I impart life's lessons and wisdom when I do not have any of the answers my self? I need a writer. Steve Douglas on My Three Sons always has the answer. TV teenagers are never filled with angst, angry at the world. TV Dads always know how to handle the situation without yelling and getting mad. Am I wrong, incompetent, a bad parent? I do not think so, but I often feel a failure, in life, work and love.

On one level I know they love me, yet my heart argues with my intellect. I feel the weight of Atlas' burden some days; work, debt, and responsibility weighing me down until the constant pain in my knees and elbows and shoulders is a regular part of life. You see, when we are young, we have dreams, we have plans, we have a vision. Never does that dream include being incredibly average. Our vision does not include bills, mortgages, the cost of education. We do not dream of mowing the yard, cleaning the bathroom, deciding what to eat. We do not have visions of toiling away in obscurity, doing your best, waiting on that raise or promotion you know will never come. As youth, we think we will make a difference in the world. As we become cynical adults, we realize we are insignificant, meaningless. As youth, we do not see the unfairness in the workplace, the cronyism. Only too late do you remember that you were once told that "if it was supposed to be fun they would not call it work, and they would certainly not pay you for it". As children we imagine fast cars, big houses, exotic vacation. As adults we know we have to pay for these luxuries. Most of us can't.

I am aware I am whining. Sorry, maybe it is the weather. I take pride in my work, in being a dad and a husband. I give all my best effort. Today, it is the thought that on some days, my best effort is not good enough. That weighs me down. There are many less well off than I. Make no mistake, I have plenty to be thankful for. But the demons, the blues, or, as my favorite fictional character called them, "the mean reds" still come.

I used to fight these demons with alcohol, occasionally drugs. Now I have no desire to numb the problems, the demons. Once I turned to prayer. Now I just want the demons to go away. One day of carefree life, no worries, no problems, pure happiness -- that is my new dream. I want laughter, sex, sunshine, a day without drama. I want to write like Hemingway, to sing like Stephen Stills. To just be someone else. I fear it is as unrealistic a desire as the dreams of a schoolboy many years ago.

So what do I do? I write a post. I prepare for tomorrow's business meeting. I will go to football practice. I will eat. I will hug my kids, tell them I love them. Maybe I'll flirt with my wife, hope for some action later. I will watch some TV, go to bed. I will get up tomorrow, thank God for my blessings and begin the fight again. A new man in an old body, watching the demons in the corner.

He Lives!

So it is the Lenten Season. It is Friday. I thought about fasting today. Instead I had some coffee, some orange juice and some bacon. My fast is not off to a good start, maybe next week. Will Jesus give me points for good intentions? You see I was really hungry when I got up. I have not eaten much the last few days. Wednesday I put a frozen hamburger patty on the grill for lunch. A customer called and while I was on the phone, silently willing the conversation to end, the burger got more than a little well-done. I ate about half, but it just was a little like eating cheese covered cinders. For supper I made chili, one of the foods I really dislike. I ate one bowl after discarding the vile red beans, but I went to bed hungry. Travelling on Thursday, ate part of a Junior Whopper, threw the rest away. We went to the mall last night to get me some new tennis shoes, sneakers, gym shoes, whatever. The wife was insistent we get home to see American Idol, so we hit the McDonald's drive-through. Again, most of my meal went into the trash. I really had good intentions, but the hunger pains forced me into the bacon box this morning. Am I going to hell? Is my sin counterbalanced since I ate bacon in my personal war to piss of members of the Religion of Peace?

I see on the Comcast homepage TV listing that Breaker Morant is coming on in a bit. I have a fairly good work ethic, and I do not turn on the TV during work hours. I just may have to take a long lunch today. Please do not tell my boss! I have to get my expenses done today, otherwise I am in good shape work-wise.

I hope you are enjoying the reruns this week. I have had a good time reading through my archives. Whatever happened to Breezy, my liberal commenter of days gone by? Are you out there Breezy?

Have a good weekend.

Reruns continue

Some people piss me off the way they make writing look so easy. They do it so well, you can see they are born with a natural gift. Read this for example. Me, I am the proverbial monkey at the typewriter hammering away. A mere hacker on the golf course of literature. Submitted for your approval is a short piece I first posted in December of 2005. I began this story in the early 1990's while doing a stint on the graveyard shift. Here is the prologue:

Monday, December 05, 2005

Prologue

The silence of the pre-dawn morning was broken only by the occasional car or truck passing on the snow-slick two-lane highway. A car slowed to a crawl as if closing in upon its prey. The rear end slid a little as the sedan skidded to a stop. The darkness was broken by the white flash of backup lights as the vehicle slowly backed up four dozen yards and turned into a narrow driveway. The sounds of a straining engine could be heard through the barely falling snow as the car lumbered through the mud and slush. The headlights bounced up and down and side to side in duplication of the rutted road. Snowflakes danced in the twin beams like chorus girls in the spotlight. Round and round they spun, climbing and falling to the ground in the wake of the slowly moving automobile.

The car coasted to a stop in front of a run-down farmhouse. The roof was partially caved in and the awning over the porch had long since been consumed as firewood. The glow of a cigarette could be vaguely seen through the frosted windows of the idling car. The engine cut out as the door opened. A short figure in a bulky overcoat climbed out of the dark vehicle. The cigarette arced a path through the darkness as it was flipped into the distance. The man looked to the east as the first rays of dawn began to spread their pink and orange fingers through the clouds of the night sky. It had stopped snowing. The man's breath made clouds around his head in the early morning cold.

The man huddled next to the car until the sun began to peak over the horizon. He opened his trousers and relieved himself on the left rear tire before clearing his throat and spitting in the direction of the vanished cigarette. He slowly made his way toward the house.

The man mounted the sagging steps, hesitated and ducked through the doorless entryway. The sun’s weak rays provided just enough light for the figure to navigate the littered hallway. He made his way to what was the front living room. The television set and VCR were strangely incongruous in the surroundings.

He started the gas-powered generator. Its sound filled the early morning air. The man involuntarily winced at the noise. He lit another Camel and turned on the TV. Static changed to a blue screen as the VCR powered on. The tape was over after three minutes. He poured steaming coffee from a large green Thermos and went to the corner to relieve himself yet again. He sat down and watched the tape twice more.

His assignment was clear. The Vice President of the United States was to attend the “Greatest Spectacle in Sports” – the Indianapolis 500 in just four and one half months hence. In May the Indianapolis 500 gets top attention in the papers: not this year. This year the Vice President would be assassinated while attending the race. The man in the bulky overcoat watched the film yet again. The man would go to Indianapolis tomorrow and begin laying the plan to kill the heir apparent to the Presidency.

He picked up all of his cigarette butts and placed them in his pocket. From his briefcase, he took a wad of plastic-like gel. He first stuck the plastique to the side of the generator and then added a detonator. He was seven miles away on the interstate when the farmhouse disintegrated into a ball of flame.

The hardest post I ever wrote

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Ode to my baby girl.

My daughter will leave for college in a few weeks. I am terrified. Not for the reasons you might think. She is smart, fun and driven. She knows what she wants and will make sure she gets there. She has worked three jobs this summer to make money; she knows things will be tight paying for college. She has applied for every scholarship imaginable. I know I have taught her right from wrong. If she does not now know the difference there is not much hope. She will party and have a good time. She will also remember why she is there – to learn.

I am terrified because I know my daughter will be leaving forever. She will come home for breaks and holidays. She will spend her summers in her familiar yellow painted bedroom. However, she will be gone. After college, she will move out and be on her own working, eventually falling in love, gaining a new family in time. Never again will she look at my home in the same light, it will be a stopping point, a place to sleep, a rest stop on life’s highway. I am terrified for me, how will I get along when she is gone?

We have not always agreed. I get pretty mad at her, probably a lot less than her aggravation at me. We are so much alike, it is scary. We laugh at the same things. We are both pig headed. Both are convinced of our inherent righteousness in every matter. The biggest difference is she is beautiful and good.

I remember the day my wife found out she was pregnant. We skipped the needle on my favorite John Cougar album, jumping for joy. I remember the night she was born. I came home from the hospital, elated, exhausted, and sobered by the enormous responsibility now placed on my shoulders. I had never even held a baby prior to that night!

I remember the nights driving her in the car, mile upon mile down the country roads through the cornfields. This was the only way to get her to sleep. Have you ever smelt corn growing in the field? That scent still reminds me of my baby girl, crying in her car seat as she drifted off to her sweet dreams.

I remember the afternoons I picked her up from the babysitter. We went to the park to swing endlessly; she could never get enough. She then would sleep on my shoulder in the old recliner until my wife came home from work. My little girl’s love of spicy foods was foretold the time she ate my chili as a toddler. She ate bowl after bowl, tears streaming down her cheeks. The chili was over spiced, the result of too much beer while cooking. She loved it.

My heart was ripped apart in her early teen years, when girls can be so mean to each other. I had no way to help her. Soon new friends came along. I watched her grow into a beautiful young woman in high school: class president, scholar, and friend to all. I am sorry I rode her too hard for her grades. I did not tell her enough that I love her.

Now she is leaving for education, adventure and excitement. In a small way, I envy her: too soon will she find the burdens of bills and work, and life. I hope she has fun, stays safe, and thinks sometimes about her Daddy. I will be thinking of her.

Germs and other tales

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Be Aware

About ten years ago we took a family vacation to Atlanta for spring break. Do not ask why, we just did. I think I had free stays at one of the hotels there.

We hit all the tourist spots, Olympic Plaza, the underground, and the Coke Museum.

At the Coke Museum they have a room where there are fountains dispensing every product made by Coke worldwide. You could grab a little cup and sample the wares.

The kids thought this was great. We let them drink their fill and try everything, heck, it was vacation.

I noticed my oldest boy, who was around six at the time was taking a cup drinking it, then replacing his cup on another stack. It did not register at first. He continued to do this -- take a cup from the left, fill it, drink it, replace on the right. Then it hit me. He was putting his dirty cups in the clean stack instead of throwing them away! I made him stop, but he was so earnest that he thought the left stack was for used ones. I asked what he thought all the trash cans were for.

Of course we laughed our asses off. I did not drink any more and we soon left. If my kid would do it, I am sure others did too.

Do they still have this room? Are there still little disposable cups you sample from? Be aware.