Three
You never know what the weather will be in late March in Indiana. Spring Break of my eighth grade year was unseasonably warm. Track was starting up after break and I wanted to keep in shape. I went for a daily two mile run. I hoped to compete in both the mile and 880 that year. Skip Gearhart was still going to be better than me, but maybe I could place in a few meets.
I had finished my run and decided to reward myself with a Wayne Bun candy bar. The maple flavored one was my favorite. I walked the few blocks to the drug store, still in my basketball shorts and pit-stained T-shirt.
Hook's Drugs shared a building with the Shop-Rite supermarket. There was a hollow entryway shared by both businesses, Hook's to the left, the grocery to the right. I was already unwrapping my candy bar as I exited the electric doors of Hook's. Dave Lefedge was leaning against the wall. Dave was a sophomore. Already more than six feet tall, he had seen some varsity playing time and was marked by the locals as the next great forward for the high school basketball team. Dave was wearing very wide bell bottoms, scuffed and dirty where the hem dragged the ground. He had on a a tie-died shirt that looked way cool. A faint wisp of a mustache graced his upper lip.
"Howsitgoing, man?" he intoned in my direction.
"Hey, man" I replied. I had known Dave my whole life. He lived on the street behind ours in the subdivision. In his younger days Dave had often played in the giant whiffle ball games we held in our backyard. I still remembered when Dave had administered a legendary ass whipping to Pecker Dupree at the bus sop back when they were both in the fifth grade. "You runnin' track this year?" he asked.
Trying to sound cool, nonchalant, and bored I gave a brief nod and told him "I suppose. There nothin' else to do around here".
"Heard that, man." He suddenly smiled and the hair on the back of my neck tingled. In a swift instant I felt someone come up behind me, I smelt a faint whiff of Love's Baby Soft and felt hands around my waist. Lynn Taylor's melodious voice hissed "Pussy!" in my right ear as she yanked my shorts, jockstrap and all, down to my knees.
The chunky woman pushing her cart from the grocery stopped dead in her tracks and laughed. Lynn shouted with glee. "You have a tiny dong!". I think she even pointed.
The day had started so well. Now I just wished I could find a hole and crawl in it and die. I fell to the ground trying to pull up my shorts. I rolled in my uneaten candy bar, smashing it all over my back. It is funny how I can remember that detail. I was squirming like a salted slug, wiggling up my shorts, frantically squeezing my eyes to halt the tears of shame.
If life had a soundtrack, mine would be nothing but peals of laughter at that moment.
It was my 13th birthday.
September 3, 2012
September 2, 2012
And the beat goes on
TWO
Yesterday's me looks back on eighth grade me and sneers, "What a nerd". Today's me bops yesterday's me in the head. I point out that in eighth grade me's time there was no such term as "nerd". Hell, even pocket calculators were very expensive novelties.
It is true I became a tongue-tied red faced mumbling moron if a female even looked in my direction. It is possible I failed to answer a direct question from a girl out loud for a number of years. I am sure every response to Lynn Taylor and her gang of tormentors was a mumbled, stuttering squeak.
I was not completely a social pariah. I got along fine with the guys of my age. I wasn't a jock, but despite my diminutive physique i was not the last guy picked for dodge ball in phys-ed either. In a race I was usually a middle-of-the-packer. I had been a decent Little Leaguer and rarely backed down from a challenge. I ran track and wrestled. It was equally true I sucked beyond all reason at basketball. I would never be cool.
I got along fine with what we called the 'hoods' too. Those were the tough talking, fighting types who hung out down by the bridge smoking cigarettes before and after school. I was on a nodding acquaintance with most of those guys, and rarely was I singled out for bullying.
I suppose I was viewed as a complete nobody, a sorta-smart fellow who would let a guy copy last night's homework in a pinch. I am certain for every social strata of the school I was not thought of highly or poorly. Mostly I was not thought of at all .I bet that was true even for the teachers and coaches. I was Jack, the Average Joe.
Lynn Taylor did think about me. She must have spent nights thinking up ways to make my face turn its trademark tomato red in her presence. She would walk down the hall until she was opposite me, move in close and then drop her books with a crash. As notebooks and textbooks skittered across the crowded hallway between classes she would shout red-faced with anger "Jack, why did you knock the books from my hands? What is wrong with you?" I would mutter and stammer an unheard defense while crawling to pick up her stuff. "Do not put your creepy paws on my things" she would scream. As she bent down to get her books she would snicker in my ear and whisper that I was a big pussy.
Dani North was the second or third best looking girl in school. She was completely a toady. Dani was Lynn's minion and best friend. It was in February when Dani started waiting on me to get in the lunch line, moving behind me. Dani would wait until I had a full tray and then would sweep my feet with her leg at just the right time to trip me flat on my face. Even if I kept a precarious balance the tray inevitably fell to the floor, leaving me the center of attention and the laughing stock of the lunch room. I tried to look out for her, but she managed to hide from me every time right up until inevitable trip. She did this about once a week. Lynn and her gang of Harpies even took to shouting "Have a nice fall" when Dani executed her signature move. That drew even more laughter.
As the cold days and weeks of that winter clattered by in a succession of spilled trays, I counted the days until spring break and relief from the torment. Lynn Taylor looked at Spring Break as a whole week of school-free days to badger me.
Yesterday's me looks back on eighth grade me and sneers, "What a nerd". Today's me bops yesterday's me in the head. I point out that in eighth grade me's time there was no such term as "nerd". Hell, even pocket calculators were very expensive novelties.
It is true I became a tongue-tied red faced mumbling moron if a female even looked in my direction. It is possible I failed to answer a direct question from a girl out loud for a number of years. I am sure every response to Lynn Taylor and her gang of tormentors was a mumbled, stuttering squeak.
I was not completely a social pariah. I got along fine with the guys of my age. I wasn't a jock, but despite my diminutive physique i was not the last guy picked for dodge ball in phys-ed either. In a race I was usually a middle-of-the-packer. I had been a decent Little Leaguer and rarely backed down from a challenge. I ran track and wrestled. It was equally true I sucked beyond all reason at basketball. I would never be cool.
I got along fine with what we called the 'hoods' too. Those were the tough talking, fighting types who hung out down by the bridge smoking cigarettes before and after school. I was on a nodding acquaintance with most of those guys, and rarely was I singled out for bullying.
I suppose I was viewed as a complete nobody, a sorta-smart fellow who would let a guy copy last night's homework in a pinch. I am certain for every social strata of the school I was not thought of highly or poorly. Mostly I was not thought of at all .I bet that was true even for the teachers and coaches. I was Jack, the Average Joe.
Lynn Taylor did think about me. She must have spent nights thinking up ways to make my face turn its trademark tomato red in her presence. She would walk down the hall until she was opposite me, move in close and then drop her books with a crash. As notebooks and textbooks skittered across the crowded hallway between classes she would shout red-faced with anger "Jack, why did you knock the books from my hands? What is wrong with you?" I would mutter and stammer an unheard defense while crawling to pick up her stuff. "Do not put your creepy paws on my things" she would scream. As she bent down to get her books she would snicker in my ear and whisper that I was a big pussy.
Dani North was the second or third best looking girl in school. She was completely a toady. Dani was Lynn's minion and best friend. It was in February when Dani started waiting on me to get in the lunch line, moving behind me. Dani would wait until I had a full tray and then would sweep my feet with her leg at just the right time to trip me flat on my face. Even if I kept a precarious balance the tray inevitably fell to the floor, leaving me the center of attention and the laughing stock of the lunch room. I tried to look out for her, but she managed to hide from me every time right up until inevitable trip. She did this about once a week. Lynn and her gang of Harpies even took to shouting "Have a nice fall" when Dani executed her signature move. That drew even more laughter.
As the cold days and weeks of that winter clattered by in a succession of spilled trays, I counted the days until spring break and relief from the torment. Lynn Taylor looked at Spring Break as a whole week of school-free days to badger me.
September 1, 2012
A Fictional Memoir
Chapter One
Lynn Taylor was a bitch. Shy, backward, socially inept, remarkably insecure eighth-grade me did not know that is what she was, I just thought she was mean and cruel. I was madly in love with her. I thought she did not know it. She really was aware I followed her every move with puppy dog devoted eyes, girls are aware at a much younger age than boys. She just did not care. She found it amusing and probably pathetic.
I first realized I could not live another day without kissing Lynn when I was in the fifth grade. I woke one day and girls were no longer just classmates with long hair and dresses. I stared at her picture on my bulletin board every morning and every night, often sighing my abiding love. She ignored me. When she wasn't teasing or humiliating me.
By the time we reached Junior High my crush was unbearable. Lynn deigned to go steady with only the popular boys -- the jocks, which in small town Indiana in the early 1970's meant basketball players. Oh, some of us competed in other sports, but we were just playing at games of no consequence. Basketball was King. Moreover, each of those boys always had perfect hair, parted in the middle and feathered down the sides. Me, my thick wavy hair would barely take a comb. A part was a fanciful dream.
Many a day I stood in front of the mirror, depressed over my hair, my lack of height, the deficiency of muscles. I did push ups and sit ups by the dozens, but always I looked just like the skinny guy in the ad on the back cover of Mad Magazine who got sand kicked in his face. I wasn't the proverbial 90 pound weakling. I would have had to gain about 15 pounds to get there.
Some days I would tell myself she was mean to me because she liked me. Just because I was socially inept did not mean I was not able to rationalize. Then I would consider that not once had Lynn had her friend Dani to tell my buddy Jeff that she liked me. I would get all depressed until I further rationalized that I had not told Jeff I liked Lynn! Maybe she did secretly love me! There was hope! Why did Junior High relationships have to be so complicated? Couldn't she see me riding my bike past her house?
Lynn would catch me at my locker and tell me what a great time she had at the eighth grade and sometimes high school parties she attended. Of course I had not been invited. She told me about making out with her boyfriend of the week, which was never me. She gave me a flirty "Too bad you missed it", and then she always flipped back her Farrah Fawcett cut blond hair, laughed a cruel laugh and slipped on down the hall. That was the Monday routine. The rest of the week went downhill from there.
One morning before first period English, I remember it as a few weeks before Halloween, Lynn walked up to Nancy Tompkins and announced so all could hear "Nancy, did you know that little pervert", pointing at me, "stares at your boobs all day?" I thought I would die. Not because it wasn't true, Nancy sat one row over and one seat up and I had a perfect view of the swell of her 13 year-old breasts when she leaned forward to write on her desk, but what boy wants their perversions shared with the whole class?
I decided In that moment Lynn Taylor was no longer worthy of my love.
That really pissed her off.
Lynn Taylor was a bitch. Shy, backward, socially inept, remarkably insecure eighth-grade me did not know that is what she was, I just thought she was mean and cruel. I was madly in love with her. I thought she did not know it. She really was aware I followed her every move with puppy dog devoted eyes, girls are aware at a much younger age than boys. She just did not care. She found it amusing and probably pathetic.
I first realized I could not live another day without kissing Lynn when I was in the fifth grade. I woke one day and girls were no longer just classmates with long hair and dresses. I stared at her picture on my bulletin board every morning and every night, often sighing my abiding love. She ignored me. When she wasn't teasing or humiliating me.
By the time we reached Junior High my crush was unbearable. Lynn deigned to go steady with only the popular boys -- the jocks, which in small town Indiana in the early 1970's meant basketball players. Oh, some of us competed in other sports, but we were just playing at games of no consequence. Basketball was King. Moreover, each of those boys always had perfect hair, parted in the middle and feathered down the sides. Me, my thick wavy hair would barely take a comb. A part was a fanciful dream.
Many a day I stood in front of the mirror, depressed over my hair, my lack of height, the deficiency of muscles. I did push ups and sit ups by the dozens, but always I looked just like the skinny guy in the ad on the back cover of Mad Magazine who got sand kicked in his face. I wasn't the proverbial 90 pound weakling. I would have had to gain about 15 pounds to get there.
Some days I would tell myself she was mean to me because she liked me. Just because I was socially inept did not mean I was not able to rationalize. Then I would consider that not once had Lynn had her friend Dani to tell my buddy Jeff that she liked me. I would get all depressed until I further rationalized that I had not told Jeff I liked Lynn! Maybe she did secretly love me! There was hope! Why did Junior High relationships have to be so complicated? Couldn't she see me riding my bike past her house?
Lynn would catch me at my locker and tell me what a great time she had at the eighth grade and sometimes high school parties she attended. Of course I had not been invited. She told me about making out with her boyfriend of the week, which was never me. She gave me a flirty "Too bad you missed it", and then she always flipped back her Farrah Fawcett cut blond hair, laughed a cruel laugh and slipped on down the hall. That was the Monday routine. The rest of the week went downhill from there.
One morning before first period English, I remember it as a few weeks before Halloween, Lynn walked up to Nancy Tompkins and announced so all could hear "Nancy, did you know that little pervert", pointing at me, "stares at your boobs all day?" I thought I would die. Not because it wasn't true, Nancy sat one row over and one seat up and I had a perfect view of the swell of her 13 year-old breasts when she leaned forward to write on her desk, but what boy wants their perversions shared with the whole class?
I decided In that moment Lynn Taylor was no longer worthy of my love.
That really pissed her off.
August 31, 2012
A glimpse into the life of an Average Joe
I drove over a thousand miles this week. It was through some of the most boring, flat, nondescript landscape in this wonderful nation -- the breadbasket of the world; the cornbelt.
I ate too much fast food and spent nights in different hotels. That is my job, and I am OK with it. It is the occasional semi-interaction with fellow humans that makes the job worthwhile. For instance, I overheard the following quip while standing at a line of urinals at a rest-stop somewhere along I- 57 in nowhere Illinois:
It took remarkable self control to contain my laughter until I was back in my car.
I ate too much fast food and spent nights in different hotels. That is my job, and I am OK with it. It is the occasional semi-interaction with fellow humans that makes the job worthwhile. For instance, I overheard the following quip while standing at a line of urinals at a rest-stop somewhere along I- 57 in nowhere Illinois:
"My urine smells like beef jerky"
It took remarkable self control to contain my laughter until I was back in my car.
Another one bites the dust
Ed went the way of Fred.
Not even a courtesy goodbye.
Don't you people realize you have an obligation to entertain me?
Seriously, I hope all is well.
Not even a courtesy goodbye.
Don't you people realize you have an obligation to entertain me?
Seriously, I hope all is well.
Friday Hippie Music -- a special post for the upcoming Democrat Convention
I wrote a paper on the Chicago Seven back in college. Learning the real background and agenda of the anti-war crowd did more than anything to move me towards conservatism. Those guys and their ideological adherents are now the leaders of today's Democrat Party.
Here is a hint for the lazy among you: the Soviet Union provided a great deal of funding for the anti-war movement in the 1960's.
August 30, 2012
Dear Republican Party
Things seem to be going so well. I hate to drop a bag of barbies on your big convention.
I feel obligated to point out I do not really need you.
I don't think you can say the same.
We aren't at the break up stage, but our relationship needs some work.In this case it really is you, not me.
I feel obligated to point out I do not really need you.
I don't think you can say the same.
We aren't at the break up stage, but our relationship needs some work.In this case it really is you, not me.
August 28, 2012
Truth
If you find yourself disagreeing with most of my thoughts and opinions, it is a very good sign you are just wrong.
August 27, 2012
Do that mean what I think it do?
A recent commenter implied my usage of the term "Bitch Slap" was offensive. Since I am an old guy and sometimes do not keep up with the changing definitions of words and phrases in today's fast paced world, I though perhaps I did not understand the meaning of the term.
According to the Urban Dictionary:
According to the Urban Dictionary:
| 1. | bitch slap | |
|
To open handedly slap someone. Denote
disrespect for the person being bitch slapped as they are not worthy of a
man sized punch. Suggests the slap was met with little resistance and
much whining
Nope, it means what I thought it did, and I used the term in the manner I intended.
PS. Two points for you if you get the movie reference in the title of this post.
| ||
Hello Monday
Shall we review? Sometime Saturday afternoon or evening the air conditioner quit. Rather the blower motor conked out. Repair guys have been dispatched and will arrive in their own good time sometime today.
I was up late last night. The boy played in a battle of the bands last night and showed up to lend my support. They move into the finals next Sunday. If you are in the greater Indianapolis area feel free to show up at Mo's Irish Pub in Noblesville on Sunday night to vote for the greatest band you have never heard -- Fossil Generation. I was sitting at the bar next to the lead guitarist from the band that had just finished when Fossil Generation took the stage. After the first song he looked at me and said "Damn, that fucking guitar player can shred". High praise from a fellow musician.
Here, I have published this before:
They are loud. They are tight. They have fun. They are talented.They play too late at night for this old fart.
I was up late last night. The boy played in a battle of the bands last night and showed up to lend my support. They move into the finals next Sunday. If you are in the greater Indianapolis area feel free to show up at Mo's Irish Pub in Noblesville on Sunday night to vote for the greatest band you have never heard -- Fossil Generation. I was sitting at the bar next to the lead guitarist from the band that had just finished when Fossil Generation took the stage. After the first song he looked at me and said "Damn, that fucking guitar player can shred". High praise from a fellow musician.
Here, I have published this before:
They are loud. They are tight. They have fun. They are talented.They play too late at night for this old fart.
August 26, 2012
The next time
some moron liberal pro-occupier starts in with their 1% bullshit, I am going to bitch slap that mofo so hard with my John Corzine bat he or she won't know what hit them. That criminal (alleged) is one of The Obama's biggest fundraisers.
Is it a coinky-dink the corrupt Eric Holder-led Justice Department will not prosecute?
We will not even get into Solyndra, GM, etc.
Is it a coinky-dink the corrupt Eric Holder-led Justice Department will not prosecute?
We will not even get into Solyndra, GM, etc.
August 25, 2012
August 24, 2012
Bingo!
Democrats are obsessed with making sure we all get abortions because they know with The Obama running the economy no one will be able to afford to have kids.
Anti-Hippy Music Friday
Since we already had our weekly dose of hopey-changey hippy music this week, I offer for your amusement the antithesis of hippy music. Makes you want to head down to the recruiter station doesn't it?
Just wondering
If the words of one idiot Republican means every Republican is in favor of rape and forced pregnancy, does the actions of one Democrat mean all Democrats are child molesters?
August 23, 2012
Here is an answer, now what was the question?
I have known for some time that I just do not get it. I do not consider myself a moron, but I know what I don't know, if you catch my drift.
I have tried to understand quantum physics. I can grasp the basic underpinnings, but the actual understanding at a deep level is beyond my ken. I can live with that.
I have always thought I have a firm grasp on history and to a lesser extent politics and economics. Again, there are experts in these fields, but I have a basic grasp of the fundamentals. I am not the sharpest blade in the drawer, but I am not a spoon.
That said, today's political environment leaves me more than confused. I really truly cannot grasp how anyone can advocate an anti-capitalist, anti-freedom agenda. The entire concept of socialism, communism, whatever -ism term you want to use leaves me lost. I might as well be dropped into the Amazonian rain forest without a map to do spinal reconstruction surgery with a Boy Scout pocket knife. I have no fucking clue.
How anyone can believe the best course for America lies in taking the hard-earned wealth of one individual and giving it to another escapes me. How can a Government provide for the General Welfare when no one produces is beyond my understanding. Nothing in history suggests the at the dream of Marxism is functionally feasible. It is not possible for the Government to distribute largesse to the people without taking the product of another's labors.
The early settlers at Jamestown tried this "each to his abilities/each to his needs" concept and it failed miserably. Robert Owen tried it again at his Utopian experiment at New Harmony without success. The USSR, East Germany, North Korea: the list of places this great experiment has been tried and found wanting is almost endless. Why would anyone advocate a failed economic system?
In a perfect world there would be no hunger, no sickness. We as humans would look after our fellow man. I like to think the best of us, but humans are animals hell-bent on survival. Often the very progressives who advocate a Marxist-type economic model are strong proponents of a Darwinian "survival of the fittest" philosophy of human origin and evolution . How can the notion that we all strive at a molecular level to improvise adapt and overcome in order to survive co-exist with the concept we should give up every advantage to a 'weaker' human?
In France during the Revolution, society was determined to promote liberty, equality and fraternity. In the end, common citizens resorted to not bathing and wearing rags lest they be perceived as trying to be "better' than the poorest of the poor. The French Revolution was the ultimate experiment in progressive liberalism. God was banished to the point of changing the names of the days of the week. The calendar was changed to match a decimal system. The metric system replaced the crazy Imperial measure. Aristocrats joined the mob or lost their head. Eventually, even the zealots were destroyed by the mob. The result was a 15 year World War and a stricter Imperial rule than the French originally overthrew.
In reality, I will sooner understand Born’s probability interpretation, Feynman Diagrams, and Neutrino Mixing long before I understand how any thinking person can promote, advocate and believe the Socialist/Communist/Liberal/Progressive economic fantasy will ever work.
I have tried to understand quantum physics. I can grasp the basic underpinnings, but the actual understanding at a deep level is beyond my ken. I can live with that.
I have always thought I have a firm grasp on history and to a lesser extent politics and economics. Again, there are experts in these fields, but I have a basic grasp of the fundamentals. I am not the sharpest blade in the drawer, but I am not a spoon.
That said, today's political environment leaves me more than confused. I really truly cannot grasp how anyone can advocate an anti-capitalist, anti-freedom agenda. The entire concept of socialism, communism, whatever -ism term you want to use leaves me lost. I might as well be dropped into the Amazonian rain forest without a map to do spinal reconstruction surgery with a Boy Scout pocket knife. I have no fucking clue.
How anyone can believe the best course for America lies in taking the hard-earned wealth of one individual and giving it to another escapes me. How can a Government provide for the General Welfare when no one produces is beyond my understanding. Nothing in history suggests the at the dream of Marxism is functionally feasible. It is not possible for the Government to distribute largesse to the people without taking the product of another's labors.
The early settlers at Jamestown tried this "each to his abilities/each to his needs" concept and it failed miserably. Robert Owen tried it again at his Utopian experiment at New Harmony without success. The USSR, East Germany, North Korea: the list of places this great experiment has been tried and found wanting is almost endless. Why would anyone advocate a failed economic system?
In a perfect world there would be no hunger, no sickness. We as humans would look after our fellow man. I like to think the best of us, but humans are animals hell-bent on survival. Often the very progressives who advocate a Marxist-type economic model are strong proponents of a Darwinian "survival of the fittest" philosophy of human origin and evolution . How can the notion that we all strive at a molecular level to improvise adapt and overcome in order to survive co-exist with the concept we should give up every advantage to a 'weaker' human?
In France during the Revolution, society was determined to promote liberty, equality and fraternity. In the end, common citizens resorted to not bathing and wearing rags lest they be perceived as trying to be "better' than the poorest of the poor. The French Revolution was the ultimate experiment in progressive liberalism. God was banished to the point of changing the names of the days of the week. The calendar was changed to match a decimal system. The metric system replaced the crazy Imperial measure. Aristocrats joined the mob or lost their head. Eventually, even the zealots were destroyed by the mob. The result was a 15 year World War and a stricter Imperial rule than the French originally overthrew.
In reality, I will sooner understand Born’s probability interpretation, Feynman Diagrams, and Neutrino Mixing long before I understand how any thinking person can promote, advocate and believe the Socialist/Communist/Liberal/Progressive economic fantasy will ever work.
Stuff I find amusing that will make you shake your head and click away as fast as possible because your really don't love me like you should
I was out and about this week doing my job, making money, doing my best to overcome the Obama economy. I was sitting in a parking lot yesterday in Charlotte, NC*. I had the radio on 'scan' trying to find a station that suited my fancy. The radio paused on a station and I caught this quip before it moved on to the next available signal:
* Day to day you never know if things around here are live or Memorex..
This one is live.
Maybe.
"...the problem with putting it on a cat is he will lick it off right away..."The radio had already moved to another station by the time I stopped laughing. That is all I heard, and the product discussed is lost to the airwaves. I got out my phone and recorded the exact phrase for your amusement. I am giving like that. Ladies, you can thank me later. Men, a cold beer or fine hand rolled cigar from the Caribbean will suffice.
* Day to day you never know if things around here are live or Memorex..
This one is live.
Maybe.
August 22, 2012
Capitalist Mofos strike again. I need to go occupy someplace.
The wife and I went to the grocery last night*. We bought a cartload of foodstuffs. I needed some coffee so I hit the appropriate aisle with trepidation. If you have purchased coffee in the past year or so, you know even your Folgers and Maxwell House have more than doubled in price. Current coffee prices are at the levels only a few scant years ago was reserved those rare coffee beans culled from the turds of ballet dancing Indonesian marmots. Now coffee is priced higher per pound than a good beefsteak.
The sneaky evil capitalist overlords at Maxwell House have found a way to fool the less-than-attentive shopper. The price is roughly the same as I paid a month or so ago, the can has shrunk again!
Just a few years ago the common package size for coffee was a two pound container. That venerable packaging changed to 34.5 ounces when the price of coffee began to skyrocket. Now we find our favorite morning pick me up is offered in a puny little 30.6 ounce plastic can. This equates to 30 fewer cups per container. But the price has remained the pretty much the same.
I think this whole coffee situation is really a model for the Obama Administration. It costs more, you get less, and no one really likes the way things are trending.
* I am not one of those old guys who follows the wife around at the store telling her what to buy. I have done most of the grocery shopping for a long time --I do most of the cooking, it only makes sense.
The sneaky evil capitalist overlords at Maxwell House have found a way to fool the less-than-attentive shopper. The price is roughly the same as I paid a month or so ago, the can has shrunk again!
Just a few years ago the common package size for coffee was a two pound container. That venerable packaging changed to 34.5 ounces when the price of coffee began to skyrocket. Now we find our favorite morning pick me up is offered in a puny little 30.6 ounce plastic can. This equates to 30 fewer cups per container. But the price has remained the pretty much the same.
I think this whole coffee situation is really a model for the Obama Administration. It costs more, you get less, and no one really likes the way things are trending.
* I am not one of those old guys who follows the wife around at the store telling her what to buy. I have done most of the grocery shopping for a long time --I do most of the cooking, it only makes sense.
August 21, 2012
Wow, that will leave a mark
Check out this comment on a post from 2006 that showed up last night in the spam filter queue:
I haven’t checked in here for a while since I auto insurance thought it was getting boring, but the last several posts are great quality so I guess I’ll add you back to my daily bloglist. You deserve it friend :) My page : car insurance onlineI guess it is time to hang it up when even spammers call you boring.
Hippy Music Friday -- Tuesday edition
Scott Mckenzie, writer of the ultimate Hippy Anthem has died. This was going to be my Friday selection this week. The Grim reaper moved things forward.
August 20, 2012
The new poll tax
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Seriously, you have to read the above link.
Now read the comments to this post and then join me for a gratuitous laugh as I light up one of the cigars I just got in the mail!
God Bless America
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha my side hurts...
Nope, we do not need Voter ID
Laughin' it up here, Boss.
Seriously, you have to read the above link.
Now read the comments to this post and then join me for a gratuitous laugh as I light up one of the cigars I just got in the mail!
God Bless America
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha my side hurts...
Nope, we do not need Voter ID
Laughin' it up here, Boss.
August 19, 2012
Nope, no liberal bias here, just move along
Did you notice how fast the news coverage disappears when a Democrat Liberal Progressive Leftist nutjob goes on a political shooting spree?
August 18, 2012
It seeps into your brain at night
I don't think I have OCD tendencies. I like to do things a certain way, and I keep stuff in a certain place, but organizing according to a particular whim and obsessing are very different. And we all do stuff out of habit and familiarity. Perhaps that I always put on my left shoe before my right shoe may qualify, but I think we all have some idiosyncrasies.
But...sometimes at night when I am sleeping I get a thought in my brain and I worry and obsess with it in my dreams, in those half-awake/half-asleep stages. It remains a worm in my brain when I wake to pee, it remains a ghost of thought when I wake up. I cannot shake the thought from my brain. I have solved many a problem with this skill/curse. Sometimes the obsessive worrying takes a more ridiculous turn.
Last night the only theme in my brain was that I was researching why cartoon characters wear white gloves on their hands, but no other clothing. I was consumed with finding the answer.
I know!
But for some stupid reason that is all I could dream or think about all night long.
Why do some cartoon characters wear gloves?
But...sometimes at night when I am sleeping I get a thought in my brain and I worry and obsess with it in my dreams, in those half-awake/half-asleep stages. It remains a worm in my brain when I wake to pee, it remains a ghost of thought when I wake up. I cannot shake the thought from my brain. I have solved many a problem with this skill/curse. Sometimes the obsessive worrying takes a more ridiculous turn.
Last night the only theme in my brain was that I was researching why cartoon characters wear white gloves on their hands, but no other clothing. I was consumed with finding the answer.
I know!
But for some stupid reason that is all I could dream or think about all night long.
Why do some cartoon characters wear gloves?
August 17, 2012
Pioneering Audio
I worked my ass off and purchased one of these with funds saved from my first job. Mine was circa 1977 or 1978, but looked exactly like that. Do you have any idea how long you had to save to get $300 bucks when you made minimum wage? It is a long damn time when minimum wage was about $2.30 an hour. This is especially true when you only worked 15 hours per week. I also had to buy gas, have spending money, and buy the occasional six pack of
This receiver pumped into a couple of Utah brand speakers with 12" woofers. I later added a couple of Pioneer speakers with 10" woofers. I could shake every window in the house. I sold the whole set around 1990 along with a very nice turntable and a cassette player. The whole stack took a lot of room.
I wish I had it back.
August 16, 2012
That 70's Show -- the other one
Horshack from the old ABC sitcom Welcome Back Kotter passed away a few days ago. Rather the actor who pretended to be Horshack passed away.
Kotter ran from 1975 through 1979. When it first came on the air I had the hots for the actress who pretended to be Kotter's wife. Marcia A. Strassman played Mrs. Kotter, and in retrospect was not that sultry. But at 13, I had the hots for every chick on TV not named Maud or Endora.
I remember watching Welcome Back Kotter for the first season or so, but the humor tired quickly even for a a boy strongly possessed of a 7th grade sense of humor.
Kotter ran from 1975 through 1979. When it first came on the air I had the hots for the actress who pretended to be Kotter's wife. Marcia A. Strassman played Mrs. Kotter, and in retrospect was not that sultry. But at 13, I had the hots for every chick on TV not named Maud or Endora.
I remember watching Welcome Back Kotter for the first season or so, but the humor tired quickly even for a a boy strongly possessed of a 7th grade sense of humor.
Sign of the times
My local Optimist Club has passed a resolution to disband if The Obama is re-elected.
Even the Optimists cannot find anything positive about the current administration.
Even the Optimists cannot find anything positive about the current administration.
August 15, 2012
I know what I know -- a follow up post for my Wife
I think I will play this at full volume every morning until the Wife relents on my right and justifiable desire to put a wooden cigar store Indian in my home office.
Delivered
We successfully delivered the Boy to college yesterday. His dorm room is tiny and the furniture is beat to hell. I have seen small dorm rooms before, but this is pretty bad. I think the room at one point was designed for a single and now they have space issues so two are in the room. There is only about a foot and a half between the end of the beds and the closet. In order for the door to open, the two twin beds have to be placed side by side, almost like a king bed. There is a gap of about 6 inches between the beds. They are going to have to bunk the beds, even though neither wanted to before they saw the room. In the best University tradition, you have to pay to have the beds bunked -- $75. The 'Man' has the metal pins and you can't have 'em for free.There is no dresser for either roommate, only a small nightstand pushed into the closet for each.
He could be one of the students assigned to sleep in the common room/ lounge. There is that. He did not seem too upset about the situation. We will see when the roommate arrives today. A small room gets much smaller when two occupy the space.
We were terrible parents, our boys had to share a room growing up. The boy is used to sleeping in a bunk bed and sharing a small space. He will be fine.
He could be one of the students assigned to sleep in the common room/ lounge. There is that. He did not seem too upset about the situation. We will see when the roommate arrives today. A small room gets much smaller when two occupy the space.
We were terrible parents, our boys had to share a room growing up. The boy is used to sleeping in a bunk bed and sharing a small space. He will be fine.
August 14, 2012
I know what I know
The wife and I are having a weeks long running dispute. She is unshakable in her hardheadedness. .More importantly she is just wrong. If you have spent any time at all reading my collected works, you know I am determined to prove my superior worldview. In this case, there is no political philosophy at stake, no historical interpretation, no mathematical principles to be argued. We are not in disagreement over religion, philosophy or child rearing.
Quite simply, she refuses to understand the absolute necessity of purchasing a 6 foot tall wooden cigar store Indian for my office.
Quite simply, she refuses to understand the absolute necessity of purchasing a 6 foot tall wooden cigar store Indian for my office.
August 13, 2012
Bad vs. Worse
This will mark six Presidential Elections in a row where my vote will be against the other candidate as opposed to for a specific candidate.
Cats in the cradle...
The wife is tense. The boy is filled with nervous excitement. Tomorrow we take the boy to college. He is the last one at home. My daughter headed off into college and marriage and a job, that journey started just after I started this blog-o-rama. The oldest son headed off into the world two years later. Now, after a five year gap, it is time for the baby of the family to leave the nest.
I rarely see him these days. He works, hangs out with friends and comes home after I go to bed. Sometimes he stays the night with buddies who have pools or other cool stuff. But I still know that most days he is home, even if he is asleep in the room right next to my office. Now, he will be away for weeks at a time. Indiana University is a mere 1.5 hours from the old homestead, a short trip to be sure, but still a lifetime away.
He is not even gone yet, and I am already counting the days until he is home for a few weeks at Christmas break.
I rarely see him these days. He works, hangs out with friends and comes home after I go to bed. Sometimes he stays the night with buddies who have pools or other cool stuff. But I still know that most days he is home, even if he is asleep in the room right next to my office. Now, he will be away for weeks at a time. Indiana University is a mere 1.5 hours from the old homestead, a short trip to be sure, but still a lifetime away.
He is not even gone yet, and I am already counting the days until he is home for a few weeks at Christmas break.
August 12, 2012
The Olympics are nearly finished and so is my coffee
I was not sure if I was going to put up a post today. My weekend readership is pretty low. Only my most faithful of followers make an appearance.Thanks, if that is you. I suppose life is more important than me. I know! Such a philosophical outlook is hard to imagine.
I hate to cover up the previous short story post. Not because I think it is especially good writing or entertainment, but for the memories of an 8 year old boy it invoked in me for an unknown reason yesterday morning. I am fully aware of my limitations as a writer and long ago came to grips with the notion I am a hack at best. I wish I had the skills to transfer what I have in my mind to electronic paper, but I come up short every damn time. No patience, no editing skills, and no spelling skills all come in to play. Mostly I lack the patience to work and massage a post to total coherence. Oh, I know what is good. I read enough and have studied enough to appreciate the writing art. Just because I can listen to Rhapsody in Blue and enjoy every nuance does not mean I can play anything beyond rudimentary Chopsticks on the 88 keys of ivory. I can see the grass, hear the birds, see my Mom in my mind. I just lack the skills to present it in a accurate, entertaining way. Such is life. I guess its is my typical long-winded way of saying sometimes I write stuff for me. Besides, for most of you yesterday's post is just like this one -- TLDR.
We went to dinner and a movie last night with some friends. I am not much of a Will Ferrell fan, but his new flick The Campaign is funny and entertaining. I strongly recommend it. There will be some who try to draw too much political connotation from the movie, and the rich power brokers are clearly based on the Koch brothers, but so what? Hollywood is left leaning and you should just get over it. The film is not really political, both candidates are exaggerations and unlikeable. You cannot spend every minute of every day worrying about Obama or Romney. Life is good, it is OK to take a moment and laugh.
I hate to cover up the previous short story post. Not because I think it is especially good writing or entertainment, but for the memories of an 8 year old boy it invoked in me for an unknown reason yesterday morning. I am fully aware of my limitations as a writer and long ago came to grips with the notion I am a hack at best. I wish I had the skills to transfer what I have in my mind to electronic paper, but I come up short every damn time. No patience, no editing skills, and no spelling skills all come in to play. Mostly I lack the patience to work and massage a post to total coherence. Oh, I know what is good. I read enough and have studied enough to appreciate the writing art. Just because I can listen to Rhapsody in Blue and enjoy every nuance does not mean I can play anything beyond rudimentary Chopsticks on the 88 keys of ivory. I can see the grass, hear the birds, see my Mom in my mind. I just lack the skills to present it in a accurate, entertaining way. Such is life. I guess its is my typical long-winded way of saying sometimes I write stuff for me. Besides, for most of you yesterday's post is just like this one -- TLDR.
We went to dinner and a movie last night with some friends. I am not much of a Will Ferrell fan, but his new flick The Campaign is funny and entertaining. I strongly recommend it. There will be some who try to draw too much political connotation from the movie, and the rich power brokers are clearly based on the Koch brothers, but so what? Hollywood is left leaning and you should just get over it. The film is not really political, both candidates are exaggerations and unlikeable. You cannot spend every minute of every day worrying about Obama or Romney. Life is good, it is OK to take a moment and laugh.
August 11, 2012
Saturday morning musings
He woke with a sneeze, quickly followed by two more. He blew his nose on the soggy, snotty handkerchief from under his pillow. His eyes were stuck shut with snot and gunk. Joe managed to pry open the right one as he stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. Warm water unstuck the left as well as a few eye lashes.
He padded to the kitchen. His pajama top was snapped crooked. "Good morning sunshine" his Mom happily intoned. She was sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. He got a bowl and the box of Quisp cereal from the cabinet. His Mom poured the milk. He could hear the washing machine running. He scratched his thick dark hair. He sniffed. His Mom handed him a Kleenex, without saying a word.
After breakfast he brushed his teeth and pulled on cutoff jeans, the legs fringed. He remembered he forgot to take off his pajama shorts first and had to start over. He searched through the drawer looking for his favorite red tank top. Joe would wear it every day if he could. He settled on a blue one. Snot was running down his nose.
"Mom, can I go over to the park?" Yes to the park, no to the dime for the concession stand. He knew it was a long shot first thing in the morning. The spring on the wooden screen door stretched and the door banged closed as he went into the garage.
As he mounted his red stingray bike he heard his Mother yell at him from the laundry room "Joe, put on shoes if you are riding your bike". He pretended he did not hear.
He jumped the bike over the curb and tried to pull a "wheelie" as he pedaled faster. The sissy bar was too far back on the banana seat to help. No one was out playing as he rode the three blocks to the park. The park was likewise empty. He looked back across the wide open grass toward the railroad tracks and the drainage ditch. He rode towards the culvert that went under the tracks.
Dismounting, he crushed a few crawdad holes and poked a stick in another. None came crawling out. He squished his bare feet into the mud and soggy grass at the edge of the shallow water. No fish were to be seen. There never were. He rinsed his feet in the thin stream. As always, he peered up into the murky depths of the large sycamore near the ditch. Billy McKenzie said he caught a bat there. Joe had seen the bat, wrapped in netting. Having a bat would be cool. None was to be spied. The boy absentmindedly pulled up the tail of his shirt and blew his nose. Only then did it occur to him he had a handkerchief in his back pocket. He used it to smear the snot on his shirt.
The boy picked up a thin stick and swished it through the air like a whip. He mounted his red bike and pedaled around the neighborhood, whipping imaginary horses. Mostly he liked the sound it made whistling through the air.. Bored, he threw the stick into old man Vice's yard because he knew the old man would freak out about it. The old man yelled at any kid who came close to his grass. Old man Vice mowed every day and was a fanatic about his yard.
Joe noticed some empty Coke bottles tossed out from a car, near the stop sign. He skidded to a stop and studied them. Three bottles, that was nine cents in returnable deposit at the supermarket.. He tried wedging one of the bottles into the bike frame without success. He could not think of a way to carry three empty bottles on his bike. He left them beside the street and peddled on.
As he neared the Redmond house he instinctively stood up and pumped the pedals as fast as possible. As he zoomed past, their collie-dalmatian mix came tearing around the corner barking furiously at the bike rider. Joe was past before the dog got a good run at him. The dog stopped, panting. The mutt gave a last bark, acknowledging today's winner.
It was just another summer morning.
He padded to the kitchen. His pajama top was snapped crooked. "Good morning sunshine" his Mom happily intoned. She was sitting at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. He got a bowl and the box of Quisp cereal from the cabinet. His Mom poured the milk. He could hear the washing machine running. He scratched his thick dark hair. He sniffed. His Mom handed him a Kleenex, without saying a word.
After breakfast he brushed his teeth and pulled on cutoff jeans, the legs fringed. He remembered he forgot to take off his pajama shorts first and had to start over. He searched through the drawer looking for his favorite red tank top. Joe would wear it every day if he could. He settled on a blue one. Snot was running down his nose.
"Mom, can I go over to the park?" Yes to the park, no to the dime for the concession stand. He knew it was a long shot first thing in the morning. The spring on the wooden screen door stretched and the door banged closed as he went into the garage.
As he mounted his red stingray bike he heard his Mother yell at him from the laundry room "Joe, put on shoes if you are riding your bike". He pretended he did not hear.
He jumped the bike over the curb and tried to pull a "wheelie" as he pedaled faster. The sissy bar was too far back on the banana seat to help. No one was out playing as he rode the three blocks to the park. The park was likewise empty. He looked back across the wide open grass toward the railroad tracks and the drainage ditch. He rode towards the culvert that went under the tracks.
Dismounting, he crushed a few crawdad holes and poked a stick in another. None came crawling out. He squished his bare feet into the mud and soggy grass at the edge of the shallow water. No fish were to be seen. There never were. He rinsed his feet in the thin stream. As always, he peered up into the murky depths of the large sycamore near the ditch. Billy McKenzie said he caught a bat there. Joe had seen the bat, wrapped in netting. Having a bat would be cool. None was to be spied. The boy absentmindedly pulled up the tail of his shirt and blew his nose. Only then did it occur to him he had a handkerchief in his back pocket. He used it to smear the snot on his shirt.
The boy picked up a thin stick and swished it through the air like a whip. He mounted his red bike and pedaled around the neighborhood, whipping imaginary horses. Mostly he liked the sound it made whistling through the air.. Bored, he threw the stick into old man Vice's yard because he knew the old man would freak out about it. The old man yelled at any kid who came close to his grass. Old man Vice mowed every day and was a fanatic about his yard.
Joe noticed some empty Coke bottles tossed out from a car, near the stop sign. He skidded to a stop and studied them. Three bottles, that was nine cents in returnable deposit at the supermarket.. He tried wedging one of the bottles into the bike frame without success. He could not think of a way to carry three empty bottles on his bike. He left them beside the street and peddled on.
As he neared the Redmond house he instinctively stood up and pumped the pedals as fast as possible. As he zoomed past, their collie-dalmatian mix came tearing around the corner barking furiously at the bike rider. Joe was past before the dog got a good run at him. The dog stopped, panting. The mutt gave a last bark, acknowledging today's winner.
It was just another summer morning.
August 10, 2012
August 9, 2012
Corn rustled, crickets chirped and fireflies lit the night sky
It was in the backseat of a Chevy Monte Carlo, parked on the edge of a cornfield off of county road 250 North. I think it was in August, but the night was chilly. It might have rained earlier in the day.
Meatloaf, the artist not the food, might as well have have sung the script.
How about you?
Meatloaf, the artist not the food, might as well have have sung the script.
How about you?
August 8, 2012
More than a difference in opinion
We can agree to disagree on many things: Chevy vs. Ford, the designated hitter, pulp or no pulp in your morning glass of OJ. You might like mustard on your hot dog. It could be a preference for Miller over Bud or black ink compared to blue ink pens. You might secretly dig kitten boxing, or Japanese cartoon porn. Some people actually root for the New York Yankees and New England Patriots. There is no accounting for individual taste.
But on one subject there can be no mistake. If you choose something besides smooth Jif peanut butter on white bread, you are just plain wrong.
But on one subject there can be no mistake. If you choose something besides smooth Jif peanut butter on white bread, you are just plain wrong.
Is there no shame?
The Obama Campaign's Super Pac released a shameful ad yesterday accusing Romney of Murder. It claims he closed down a plant and a short time later the wife of one of the employees died of cancer because the family did not have "health care".
Only Romney was no longer at Bain when the company closed. And the wife died 5 or 6 years later. Oh, and she did still have insurance...
I have been lukewarm at best to Romney. These attacks have led me firmly to his camp, if for no other reason than to get these thugs out of the White House. This ad, and Harry Reid's despicable "do you still beat your wife" type accusations leave me disgusted.
If this is today's Democratic Party, then I want nothing to do with them.
Only Romney was no longer at Bain when the company closed. And the wife died 5 or 6 years later. Oh, and she did still have insurance...
I have been lukewarm at best to Romney. These attacks have led me firmly to his camp, if for no other reason than to get these thugs out of the White House. This ad, and Harry Reid's despicable "do you still beat your wife" type accusations leave me disgusted.
If this is today's Democratic Party, then I want nothing to do with them.
August 7, 2012
Options taken
I had a full plate yesterday. You can just scroll down a few centimeters to see what I am talking about. See how I am getting in the global moment of the Olympics, using metric and all?
Anyway, with the help of the magic internet the tech support guys at work signed onto my 'puter and did their secret massaging of the inner workings of my laptop. Now I am running full speed again.
I skipped taking the car into the shop and opted for a half day of vacation instead. We went here. A great time was had by all. I guess my spirit of adventure has not mouldered and withered in the half century I have walked the Earth.
I am off this morning to get the car checked out. The check engine light is now glowing an ominous orange in my dash panel. I am starting to think I have ignition problems. That is not cheap.
Look Ma, almost a week and no comment on the Chik-Fil-A controversy. That is right, I do this all freestyle, no nets, no wires, no trick camera work.
Anyway, with the help of the magic internet the tech support guys at work signed onto my 'puter and did their secret massaging of the inner workings of my laptop. Now I am running full speed again.
I skipped taking the car into the shop and opted for a half day of vacation instead. We went here. A great time was had by all. I guess my spirit of adventure has not mouldered and withered in the half century I have walked the Earth.
I am off this morning to get the car checked out. The check engine light is now glowing an ominous orange in my dash panel. I am starting to think I have ignition problems. That is not cheap.
Look Ma, almost a week and no comment on the Chik-Fil-A controversy. That is right, I do this all freestyle, no nets, no wires, no trick camera work.
August 6, 2012
Inadequate
Last week my car started to randomly behave badly. I would be driving along and suddenly the engine would cough and die just as if I was out of gas -- cough, shudder, shudder, cough -- dead. I would wait a minute and it would start up and run perfectly. It has done this four times in the past week. I am off to the garage in a bit to see what is going on. Ignorance of vehicle repair is a curse.
The company VPN has quit working. I have tried all I can, now I am waiting a call from IT to help me. Ignorance of computers is a curse.
I was thinking about taking a half day of vacation to do some stuff with the family. Since two of the primary tools of my job are not working as advertised, the 'puter and the car, it is quite possible I will spend the day getting those issues resolved instead.
The company VPN has quit working. I have tried all I can, now I am waiting a call from IT to help me. Ignorance of computers is a curse.
I was thinking about taking a half day of vacation to do some stuff with the family. Since two of the primary tools of my job are not working as advertised, the 'puter and the car, it is quite possible I will spend the day getting those issues resolved instead.
August 5, 2012
A casual brush with ignorance
I suppose I outta publish something before my last three readers give up on me.
I spent a good part of last week on the left coast. I am way cool with that, the Cascades and Columbia River area is by far my favorite place to visit in the world. I was tied up in meetings the whole time, so Idid not get to do any sight seeing, but such is life. When the man signs your paycheck you are at his pleasure.
There were no significant travel issues worth mentioning. A certain airport design used in a certain Northern Midwestern city (or twin cities, if you will) still sucks. The airport is nice, the layout is horrible. I landed at the "F" gates and had to trek to the "B" gates. If you have been to MSP you know that is a long haul. It was OK, my layover stretched from a bit over an hour to three and one half hours -- reason unknown.
After a leisurely late lunch I made my way through the concourse, battling idiots who cannot operate the moving WALKway. This is amazing in that at MSP the moving sidewalks are labeled every three feet or so with a 'walk" and 'stand" designation separated by a solid yellow line up the middle. The concept is just too hard I guess.
While waiting at the gate for my connecting flight, a breathless couple came running up to the gate. They pulled up short as the woman breathlessly gasped "It is delayed". The man let forth a string of loud profanities at the counter clerk. He wanted to know why not one bastard bothered to tell them the flight was delayed? "They just ran through that whole G-d mother fucking airport to get to a flight that was fucking delayed". The airline representative told him that the flight was marked delayed on the monitors posted throughout the airport. MSP has a lot of these monitors I will add. The man said the "bitch flight attendant" told them they would have to check at the gate, why didn't she know their connection was delayed? The lady calmly replied that the attendant was in the air and had no way of knowing the situation of other flights.
The man and woman fumed and complained in their seats but they got no sympathy from the rest of us. I suppose most in the gate area thought as I did, if you don't know enough to check the monitor,especially if your incoming flight is late, you probably are of the same breed that stands blocking the moving sidewalk...
I spent a good part of last week on the left coast. I am way cool with that, the Cascades and Columbia River area is by far my favorite place to visit in the world. I was tied up in meetings the whole time, so Idid not get to do any sight seeing, but such is life. When the man signs your paycheck you are at his pleasure.
There were no significant travel issues worth mentioning. A certain airport design used in a certain Northern Midwestern city (or twin cities, if you will) still sucks. The airport is nice, the layout is horrible. I landed at the "F" gates and had to trek to the "B" gates. If you have been to MSP you know that is a long haul. It was OK, my layover stretched from a bit over an hour to three and one half hours -- reason unknown.
After a leisurely late lunch I made my way through the concourse, battling idiots who cannot operate the moving WALKway. This is amazing in that at MSP the moving sidewalks are labeled every three feet or so with a 'walk" and 'stand" designation separated by a solid yellow line up the middle. The concept is just too hard I guess.
While waiting at the gate for my connecting flight, a breathless couple came running up to the gate. They pulled up short as the woman breathlessly gasped "It is delayed". The man let forth a string of loud profanities at the counter clerk. He wanted to know why not one bastard bothered to tell them the flight was delayed? "They just ran through that whole G-d mother fucking airport to get to a flight that was fucking delayed". The airline representative told him that the flight was marked delayed on the monitors posted throughout the airport. MSP has a lot of these monitors I will add. The man said the "bitch flight attendant" told them they would have to check at the gate, why didn't she know their connection was delayed? The lady calmly replied that the attendant was in the air and had no way of knowing the situation of other flights.
The man and woman fumed and complained in their seats but they got no sympathy from the rest of us. I suppose most in the gate area thought as I did, if you don't know enough to check the monitor,especially if your incoming flight is late, you probably are of the same breed that stands blocking the moving sidewalk...
August 2, 2012
August 1, 2012
WTH?
My desk faces the back wall of my office. There is a window just to the right of my desk. A Japanese maple is to the right of the window, outside. The electric meter is to the right of the maple.
This morning I was doing some emails when movement outside caught my eye. I leaned over and looked out the window. A guy was doing his rounds, reading the electric meter. He wrote the numbers, then walked back. He stopped to peer in my window.
WTH? He saw me and jumped back, startled. He then moved on towards the neighbors'. I started to chase him down to see what he was up to, but decided he would just deny he was peeping.
It is not like he saw anything of interest. A treadmill faces the window, and behind it is a closed closet. My desk, file cabinets and a printer/copier round out the furnishings.
This morning I was doing some emails when movement outside caught my eye. I leaned over and looked out the window. A guy was doing his rounds, reading the electric meter. He wrote the numbers, then walked back. He stopped to peer in my window.
WTH? He saw me and jumped back, startled. He then moved on towards the neighbors'. I started to chase him down to see what he was up to, but decided he would just deny he was peeping.
It is not like he saw anything of interest. A treadmill faces the window, and behind it is a closed closet. My desk, file cabinets and a printer/copier round out the furnishings.
July 31, 2012
Short skirts and stilleto heels
Minutia and trivia amuse me. When I was younger my brain was filled with facts and figures and entire passages from books and movies. That stuff is still in there, I guess, but I just cannot access the files and folders as readily. This love of useless stuff was piqued last night as the weather reader reported yesterday marked the 27th day in July our high temperature peaked at 90F or higher. I was trying to remember the three days it did not get that hot.
The Man is predicting rain today. I will believe it when it happens. Lately Mother Nature has acted more like a prick-tease high school girl than the middle aged matron on the margarine commercial.. You remember that PT chick from your randy youth. She goes on a date, gives a few lingering kisses, lets you fondle her boobage through her tight sweater. The next date she shows a little thigh and leaves you excited, overheated, and wanting more. The "more" is never delivered. That is the way Mother Nature has been lately. She darkens the sky with some clouds. Sometimes she brings on the wind and thunder, but never more than a light mist of rain. She teases us with that long soaking we need, but laughs as we get all excited for nothing. Is it ironic that these two women, decades apart, both force us to take frequent cold showers?
On the bright side, I have not had to mow the lawn since late May.
The Man is predicting rain today. I will believe it when it happens. Lately Mother Nature has acted more like a prick-tease high school girl than the middle aged matron on the margarine commercial.. You remember that PT chick from your randy youth. She goes on a date, gives a few lingering kisses, lets you fondle her boobage through her tight sweater. The next date she shows a little thigh and leaves you excited, overheated, and wanting more. The "more" is never delivered. That is the way Mother Nature has been lately. She darkens the sky with some clouds. Sometimes she brings on the wind and thunder, but never more than a light mist of rain. She teases us with that long soaking we need, but laughs as we get all excited for nothing. Is it ironic that these two women, decades apart, both force us to take frequent cold showers?
On the bright side, I have not had to mow the lawn since late May.
July 30, 2012
Responsibility
I know this couple. They have owned their own small business for decades. They certainly are not rich, but they are not eating ramen noodles for supper either. Any of us would describe their life as decidedly middle class.
They met at the university. They married and moved back to the small town where I live and raised a couple of kids.
In the building next door to their existing business they started another mom and pop. They worked hard, very hard, running both businesses. They were there six days a week, and vacations were rare. The days were long, but they provided the usual for the kids, dance classes, football, baseball camp, cars, college. One of the business failed. The other hangs on in these tough times.
Why did one business fail? Leftists like Obama will claim successful business owners only got what they have through the hard work of others, through the government. Yet these fine people had two business, on the same street, a few blocks from the same bridge. Both had a similar education and even shared some teachers.
Why did the government and everyone else cause business number two to close?
If you and I were responsible for building what these people have, aren't we responsible when things do not go well?
See how silly President Obama and Cherokee Princess Warren sound when you look at their actual philosophy? What kind of world would we have if no one was ever held responsible? You did not build that business, You did not build that house. You did not paint that artwork. You did not write that book. You did not run that business into the ground. You did not shoot up that movie theater.
They met at the university. They married and moved back to the small town where I live and raised a couple of kids.
In the building next door to their existing business they started another mom and pop. They worked hard, very hard, running both businesses. They were there six days a week, and vacations were rare. The days were long, but they provided the usual for the kids, dance classes, football, baseball camp, cars, college. One of the business failed. The other hangs on in these tough times.
Why did one business fail? Leftists like Obama will claim successful business owners only got what they have through the hard work of others, through the government. Yet these fine people had two business, on the same street, a few blocks from the same bridge. Both had a similar education and even shared some teachers.
Why did the government and everyone else cause business number two to close?
If you and I were responsible for building what these people have, aren't we responsible when things do not go well?
See how silly President Obama and Cherokee Princess Warren sound when you look at their actual philosophy? What kind of world would we have if no one was ever held responsible? You did not build that business, You did not build that house. You did not paint that artwork. You did not write that book. You did not run that business into the ground. You did not shoot up that movie theater.
July 29, 2012
Dead white guys are no longer "history"
A couple of weeks ago I was on a business trip and took the long way home in order to stop by the grave site and home of the legendary Sgt. Alvin York. I even wrote a post about it if you bother to scroll back a bit. I am not going to link it 'cause it is not important to this post.
I showed the pictures and described the visit to the York home to my wife. A blank look was followed with a questioning "who"?. My daughter was visiting at the time, she gave me the same "so?" face as her mother. They had never heard of Sgt. York. I showed the pics to my son when he came home. When questioned, he said he "might have heard of him", but allowed he did not know who York was.
My dad knew. My brother knew. The rest of my family and friends had no idea regarding the heroism of one of America's most decorated soldiers. I think that is sad.,
The movie "Sergeant York" was on TCM last week. I recorded it on the DVR. I am going to try and make the wife and boy watch it with me. They won't.
Audie Murphy -- isn't he in that one John Wayne movie?
I showed the pictures and described the visit to the York home to my wife. A blank look was followed with a questioning "who"?. My daughter was visiting at the time, she gave me the same "so?" face as her mother. They had never heard of Sgt. York. I showed the pics to my son when he came home. When questioned, he said he "might have heard of him", but allowed he did not know who York was.
My dad knew. My brother knew. The rest of my family and friends had no idea regarding the heroism of one of America's most decorated soldiers. I think that is sad.,
The movie "Sergeant York" was on TCM last week. I recorded it on the DVR. I am going to try and make the wife and boy watch it with me. They won't.
Audie Murphy -- isn't he in that one John Wayne movie?
July 28, 2012
July 27, 2012
Increasingly on the fringe
I am afraid I am increasingly out of touch and perhaps even wrong when it comes to my perceptions regarding the role of the Federal Government. In my travels I often listen to the local radio stations, usually news talk or sports talk. I was getting in some windshield time earlier in the week and the hourly news included a farm report. That is not unusual in this part of the country. A great deal of the report focused on the next iteration of a Farm Bill, but more importantly, on the efforts to pass an emergency "drought relief" for farmers.
Farming is a business. Why are we, as taxpayers, bailing out the farmers*? Isn't drought one of the reasons for Federal crop Insurance programs? Does the government step in and give money to other businesses in times of natural woe? Was there a program to help struggling snow plow operators this past winter when a capricious Mother Nature refused to send snow our way? Do we get emergency "rain relief" to pool salesmen and water park operators when we have a wet cool summer? I am sure farmers across the nation will point out that farms produce our food and without a viable farm system starvation faces the nation.
Bad crops equal higher prices. The law of supply and demand even applies to the mercantile exchange. The CBOE pays more for corn futures when the yield outlook is low. If the taxpayers are expected to pay the farmers for the ill effects of nature, shouldn't the farmers pay more to the taxpayers in times of abundance?
Better yet, shouldn't the government stay out of the farming business altogether?
* I won't even get into subsidies and pay not to plant programs.
Farming is a business. Why are we, as taxpayers, bailing out the farmers*? Isn't drought one of the reasons for Federal crop Insurance programs? Does the government step in and give money to other businesses in times of natural woe? Was there a program to help struggling snow plow operators this past winter when a capricious Mother Nature refused to send snow our way? Do we get emergency "rain relief" to pool salesmen and water park operators when we have a wet cool summer? I am sure farmers across the nation will point out that farms produce our food and without a viable farm system starvation faces the nation.
Bad crops equal higher prices. The law of supply and demand even applies to the mercantile exchange. The CBOE pays more for corn futures when the yield outlook is low. If the taxpayers are expected to pay the farmers for the ill effects of nature, shouldn't the farmers pay more to the taxpayers in times of abundance?
Better yet, shouldn't the government stay out of the farming business altogether?
* I won't even get into subsidies and pay not to plant programs.
A moment of silence
The International Olympic Committee refuses to honor the fortieth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the Israeli Olympic team at the 1972 Olympics in Munich, Germany. It has been reported the IOC fears it will antagonize the delegations from various Arab nations.
I hope you join me in a moment of silence, prayer or reflection for the innocent victims of hatred and intolerance. If honoring these athletes is not part of the Olympic Ideal, then I am honestly not sure what the Games represent.
July 26, 2012
Friday Covers -- Thursday edition
Inspired by my man Yabu at Bad Bad Juju:
Desiree Bassett puts some hot electric guitar into a timeless classic
For some reason this version makes me want to cry.
No commentary required.
Desiree Bassett puts some hot electric guitar into a timeless classic
For some reason this version makes me want to cry.
No commentary required.
July 25, 2012
Tick tock goes the clock
And then the one day you findTen years have got behind youNo one told you when to runYou missed the starting gun --Pink Floyd
It is as inevitable as water flowing down the Mississippi. Life moves forward. In just a few weeks my youngest and last remaining "at home" kid will head off to college. He will be a freshman at Indiana University.
We have watched him grow up here on the old blog. When I first started writing he was active in little league and youth football. He learned to drive, went on dates, graduated high school. By mid-August he will be packing his car and heading to Bloomington, Indiana.
The nest will be more than empty. When the daughter headed off to college, to life, work, and marriage, it was tough, but there were still two boys at home. Then the oldest son headed off to the university and life in another town, making music. But one remained. The five year separation between the middle and youngest son helped keep the empty-nester wolves at bay.
That time is nearing the end. I can see it in my wife's eyes. She is going to struggle with this one even more than the others. And she had a hard time as they left to pursue their life.
I have never been one of those parents who cannot wait until their kids get to be adults and move out. I enjoy my children. I like having them around. I am a lucky man. Watching your offspring spread their wings and jump from the nest into life is hard. I suspect my parents sat at night and wondered how I was going to get by. Perhaps they wondered what they were going to do with their time, walking the house peering into empty bedrooms.
I think it will be hardest on my wife. Travel is part and parcel of my job. Always before there was a kid at home, or coming home to keep her company, even if only in a metaphorical sense as he played video games behind closed doors. Now, just an empty house will echo her silent conversations. Me? I like my own company. I spend all day in an office alone and hours on end in a car or hotel. The wife does not like alone time so much.
In many ways the coming weeks will be filled with joy. The boy is so happy and excited to start his new life, you cannot help but share in his enthusiasm. It is with pride you realize you have prepared your child to enter the world, despite a complete lack of instructions,direction, manuals, or on-line tech support. That makes me happy.
So I keep telling myself.
July 24, 2012
Whoever built this blog sure did a crappy job * Updated with cool video
The cursor is blinking away. I am staring at it, waiting on someone, anyone, from the government to build this post. There are actually four phones here on my desk, and so far this morning not one has rung, buzzed, beeped or chimed with the latest words, phrases and themes for this entry.
---aside. yes, there are four phones on my little Sauder-built black aged wood-looking desk: my cell phone, my work land line with a local number, my work internet phone (with a corporate number), and the house phone via a cordless handset.
As we took the irrelevant side trip about my plethora of phones the government failed to build this post. I guess the Obama team must be off golfing or fundraising. No time to build here. Perhaps they are busy closing Gitmo, or getting our money back from GM? Maybe the Golfer-in-Chief is busy lowering the oceans and cooling the Earth.and does not have time to build at this crappy website. Oh wait, President Obama's laser-focus on jobs means he is meeting with his Jobs Council, I bet. What? You mean the Jobs Council has not met for months? Never mind, I forgot the Stimulus solved the economy and unemployment problems Bush caused.
Oh look! I built a post all by my self. Millions of Americans get work done, create wealth and jobs without the government helping. Usually despite Government interference. On second thought, this post is about the Obama and Democrat insane insistence that nothing can be done without the government, the government was responsible for the content...Well I can take solace in the notion this crappy post is a perfect example of what happens when the government gets involved.
update. Nothing else needs to be said:
* Since this place went live in 2005, it is probably Bush's fault
---aside. yes, there are four phones on my little Sauder-built black aged wood-looking desk: my cell phone, my work land line with a local number, my work internet phone (with a corporate number), and the house phone via a cordless handset.
As we took the irrelevant side trip about my plethora of phones the government failed to build this post. I guess the Obama team must be off golfing or fundraising. No time to build here. Perhaps they are busy closing Gitmo, or getting our money back from GM? Maybe the Golfer-in-Chief is busy lowering the oceans and cooling the Earth.and does not have time to build at this crappy website. Oh wait, President Obama's laser-focus on jobs means he is meeting with his Jobs Council, I bet. What? You mean the Jobs Council has not met for months? Never mind, I forgot the Stimulus solved the economy and unemployment problems Bush caused.
Oh look! I built a post all by my self. Millions of Americans get work done, create wealth and jobs without the government helping. Usually despite Government interference. On second thought, this post is about the Obama and Democrat insane insistence that nothing can be done without the government, the government was responsible for the content...Well I can take solace in the notion this crappy post is a perfect example of what happens when the government gets involved.
update. Nothing else needs to be said:
* Since this place went live in 2005, it is probably Bush's fault
July 23, 2012
Something needs to be done about these insane laws
Thirteen are dead. Do we blame the truck? Do we blame the refusal of Federal officials to enforce immigration law?
That would make as much sense as blaming guns for the action of one evil person.
That would make as much sense as blaming guns for the action of one evil person.
BTW shooting a dozen people is already against the law
While we are at it, I am sure I will not be the first nor the last to point out one of the worst single shooting sprees in history took place just one year ago in Norway. That country has some of the strictest gun laws of any nation and is surrounded by countries with a similar stance regarding firearms.
All the legislation, all of the laws imaginable will not stop a person determined to act. Unless you envision each of us living alone in a cage like at a zoo, this is life on Earth, where free will rules and evil is just around the corner.
All the legislation, all of the laws imaginable will not stop a person determined to act. Unless you envision each of us living alone in a cage like at a zoo, this is life on Earth, where free will rules and evil is just around the corner.
July 22, 2012
3662
There is already an ocean of ink, both real and electronic, devoted to the acts of one crazy individual in Colorado. That won't stop me from injecting my two cents, even if my opinion is only worth one and a half pennies.
This shooting was perpetuated by a sick, evil individual. The Batman movies were nothing more than the excuse for the gunman. The notion we should take the movie from theaters is ridiculous. That is like saying we should ban university classrooms in the wake of the Virginia Tech massacre. No amount of gun control, paperwork, UN Treaties, blaming the Right or Rush Limbaugh, or lengthening gun permit wait times would have prevented this from happening. The guy was smart enough to make his own tear gas and by all accounts the mousetrap of destruction planted in the apartment was advanced. The killer would have found a way to make himself famous through illegal guns, homemade bombs, anything. Short of banning and confiscating every gun in the nation and somehow every Firework, box of ammunition and household cleaning supplies, this could not have been avoided. Guns will never be banned or confiscated in this country. Not without a bloodbath that will make the previous Civil War look like the invasion of Grenada.
I am not sure why a private individual would need all of the body armor the assailant was allegedly wearing. But that is none of my business. Some people are spending tens of thousands of dollars building modern bomb shelters. Some people might look around my house and wonder why I need a 52 inch big screen TV. How a person defends his self and loved ones is not relevant to me. At least until those methods impede upon my own freedom. Say your self defense methods involves letting loose a herd of poisonous snakes in the lawn next door for instance --that is not an opotion. But if you find it necessary to pretend you are a Ninja warrior, SWAT wannabe, or medieval knight, have at it.
There are sick people out there folks. The desire to be famous is part of modern society. Little could have been done to save the lives of the dozen who died and scores who were shot. Perhaps if one person in the crowd had a concealed weapon and fired back it might have helped. We will never know.
This shooting was perpetuated by a sick, evil individual. The Batman movies were nothing more than the excuse for the gunman. The notion we should take the movie from theaters is ridiculous. That is like saying we should ban university classrooms in the wake of the Virginia Tech massacre. No amount of gun control, paperwork, UN Treaties, blaming the Right or Rush Limbaugh, or lengthening gun permit wait times would have prevented this from happening. The guy was smart enough to make his own tear gas and by all accounts the mousetrap of destruction planted in the apartment was advanced. The killer would have found a way to make himself famous through illegal guns, homemade bombs, anything. Short of banning and confiscating every gun in the nation and somehow every Firework, box of ammunition and household cleaning supplies, this could not have been avoided. Guns will never be banned or confiscated in this country. Not without a bloodbath that will make the previous Civil War look like the invasion of Grenada.
I am not sure why a private individual would need all of the body armor the assailant was allegedly wearing. But that is none of my business. Some people are spending tens of thousands of dollars building modern bomb shelters. Some people might look around my house and wonder why I need a 52 inch big screen TV. How a person defends his self and loved ones is not relevant to me. At least until those methods impede upon my own freedom. Say your self defense methods involves letting loose a herd of poisonous snakes in the lawn next door for instance --that is not an opotion. But if you find it necessary to pretend you are a Ninja warrior, SWAT wannabe, or medieval knight, have at it.
There are sick people out there folks. The desire to be famous is part of modern society. Little could have been done to save the lives of the dozen who died and scores who were shot. Perhaps if one person in the crowd had a concealed weapon and fired back it might have helped. We will never know.
July 20, 2012
Yak milk is pink
We had a few brief showers Wednesday and Thursday and you could almost hear Mother Nature sigh an audible "ahhh". It is amazing what less than a half of an inch of rain can do for a lawn when there has been no precipitation to speak of for 45 days. Some parts of the grass are actually sporting a pale green hue this morning. Weeds have popped up by inches over night. It is still hot. I think that has something to do with summer.
Did you know as part of ObamaCare health care providers like hospitals have to conduct a community needs survey every three years. This is the gift the government brings. Now the local hospital has to hire a person to coordinate this regulatory burden. This increases costs. Chalk it up as just an example of why ObamaCare will not make your health care more affordable, but will add layers of bureaucracy, red tape and governmental interference, and increased local costs into what used to be a semi-reasonable operation.
Did you know as part of ObamaCare health care providers like hospitals have to conduct a community needs survey every three years. This is the gift the government brings. Now the local hospital has to hire a person to coordinate this regulatory burden. This increases costs. Chalk it up as just an example of why ObamaCare will not make your health care more affordable, but will add layers of bureaucracy, red tape and governmental interference, and increased local costs into what used to be a semi-reasonable operation.
July 19, 2012
A suggestion
Not only am I tired (see previous post), but the day is not starting off well on other fronts. In fact, I have developed a case of red-ass in monumental proportions. I suggest friends, family, co-workers, customers, commenters, phone solicitors, and the general public-at-large tread lightly.
I am not in the mood for bullshit, and I suspect i will be awash up to my ankles before the day is through. I would like to imagine a peremptory "fuck off" will help.
You have been warned.
I am not in the mood for bullshit, and I suspect i will be awash up to my ankles before the day is through. I would like to imagine a peremptory "fuck off" will help.
You have been warned.
What's goin' on?
It has happened two nights in a row. I wake around three in the aye em, wide awake and ready to start the day. Not on purpose. I pad to the kitchen to grab a drink of water and then the head, and somehow my old buddy insomnia takes charge of the situation. Unfortunately I don't go to bed until around 11:30 or so. Four hours of sleep is not enough for this 50 year old man. In my youth, no problem. I spent most of my teens and twenties managing about four hours sleep. Now, my beauty fading, I have to get the deep sleep to rejuvenate my brain and body.
Now it is really time to start the day and I am exhausted.
Now it is really time to start the day and I am exhausted.
July 18, 2012
Mystery of Amelia Earhart is solved!
I can report with near certainty, I know what happened to Amelia Earhart.
She died.
She is with Lucca Brazzi.
Maybe she crashed at sea. Maybe she and Fred Noonan putzed along for years like Gilligan and Mary Anne on some desert isle. She might have drowned fishing for snapper. It could be she was swept away in a typhoon. She could have met her end via snakebite or a peck from a rabid seagull. As the Munchkins might say "And she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead."
In the end, she met the fate of many intrepid explorers and seekers of adventure. She failed.
The millions of dollars spent at the time of her disappearance and since will not change that unalterable fact.
Like Robert Scott, Earhart remains a historical figure only because her failure resulted in tragedy and death.
But my wife did live in a residence hall at Purdue University named after her, so there is that.
She died.
She is with Lucca Brazzi.
Maybe she crashed at sea. Maybe she and Fred Noonan putzed along for years like Gilligan and Mary Anne on some desert isle. She might have drowned fishing for snapper. It could be she was swept away in a typhoon. She could have met her end via snakebite or a peck from a rabid seagull. As the Munchkins might say "And she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead."
In the end, she met the fate of many intrepid explorers and seekers of adventure. She failed.
The millions of dollars spent at the time of her disappearance and since will not change that unalterable fact.
Like Robert Scott, Earhart remains a historical figure only because her failure resulted in tragedy and death.
But my wife did live in a residence hall at Purdue University named after her, so there is that.
July 17, 2012
Mountain Goat Memoirs
I had to do some rare travels over the weekend. Monday morning found me traveling the hills and dales of the north-east corner of the Volunteer State. I finished early yesterday with my customer and picked up the trusty old atlas. Just a few ridges away was this house:
If you are a hard-core war movie fan you will recognize that abode from the pivotal scene at the end of an Academy Award (insert applicable trademarks symbol) winning picture. Yes, that is the home of Sergeant Alvin York, one of the most decorated soldiers in American history. I also made a quick stop to the York burial site, just a short distance away.
I have stated it many times and fellow road warriors will testify; life on the road is not the fun and glamour most of you imagine. It is these little side trips that makes it all worthwhile. And the paycheck. I like the paycheck.
July 16, 2012
But seriously folks
I am begging for a response to this post. I encourage anyone to give their viewpoint, especially those opposed to my position, because I truly cannot see the other side of this question.
Why is asking for identification prior to voting a big deal? The State GIVES free picture identification to any citizen. There is no financial burden.
You have to present identification to board a plane, to collect unemployment, to serve on a jury, cash a check, buy booze, buy cigarettes, and start a job. Most employers, schools and government workers have picture IDs assigned. You even have to provide a picture ID if you want to get in and see the US Attorney General give a speech about how awful picture ID requirements are. But to prove you are you before voting, before we participate in the most important task as citizens, is asking too much? I just do not get it.
Why is asking for identification prior to voting a big deal? The State GIVES free picture identification to any citizen. There is no financial burden.
You have to present identification to board a plane, to collect unemployment, to serve on a jury, cash a check, buy booze, buy cigarettes, and start a job. Most employers, schools and government workers have picture IDs assigned. You even have to provide a picture ID if you want to get in and see the US Attorney General give a speech about how awful picture ID requirements are. But to prove you are you before voting, before we participate in the most important task as citizens, is asking too much? I just do not get it.
Perhaps the Senate should investigate the Designated Hitter Rule next
Perhaps there are issues more important for the US Senate to get involved in than what ugly French-metrosexual-looking uniforms the US Olympic team is sporting this year. OMG the the uniforms are made in China! Yes, and I suspect the same is true for every stitch of clothing you are sporting at this moment.
How about the Senate spending a few minutes to actually pass a budget instead? After all, it has been more than 1,100 days. That is more than THREE YEARS for the math challenged. The previous Olympiad had just finished the last time we had a passed budget. Chew on that for a second or two.
I suppose fashion is more interesting than finance.
How about the Senate spending a few minutes to actually pass a budget instead? After all, it has been more than 1,100 days. That is more than THREE YEARS for the math challenged. The previous Olympiad had just finished the last time we had a passed budget. Chew on that for a second or two.
I suppose fashion is more interesting than finance.
July 15, 2012
I've about had it
If Romney tags Condi Rice as his VP choice, I will refuse to cast my vote for him in November. I am sick of the RINOs running the party. If he chooses a conservative as running mate I may hold my nose and give a nod to Romney, 'cause he is marginally better than The Obama, but I'll be damned if I will give the Republican honchos another RINO to wait in the wings.
We need to focus this election on The Obama's piss-poor performance, not give the liberal press and Obama ammunition to blame Bush all the more. The election needs to be about Obama, not Bush and a Rice nomination will change all of that. It is time to hold The Obama accountable, not to rehash the policies of W.
We need to focus this election on The Obama's piss-poor performance, not give the liberal press and Obama ammunition to blame Bush all the more. The election needs to be about Obama, not Bush and a Rice nomination will change all of that. It is time to hold The Obama accountable, not to rehash the policies of W.
My favorite spam comment this week.
Maybe you could write next articles referring to this article. I wish to read even more things about it!
It was on this post.
That Anon E. Mouse is a witty guy. Sadly he forgot to add the link to whatever he was selling. That sort of incompetence is not to be tolerated. He has been duly banished to the voids of the Ethernet. Can electronic screams be heard if no one is listening?
It was on this post.
That Anon E. Mouse is a witty guy. Sadly he forgot to add the link to whatever he was selling. That sort of incompetence is not to be tolerated. He has been duly banished to the voids of the Ethernet. Can electronic screams be heard if no one is listening?
July 14, 2012
Analog Brain
My brain spent the night composing the beginnings to various short stories. It reworded and reworked various vignettes all nioght long. Two in particular were quite good, at least in my mind. As usual, all my brain composed was the beginning of the story. I have no idea what to have these characters do. What is the story? I have a whole notebook consisting of beginnings of stories I have written over the past thirty-plus years. There is never a middle or an end. Do you ever dream about words and writing?
Somehow I cannot escape the notion that my aborted stories are a metaphor for my life. Things start off promising and then kind of fizzle. It is sad to think I peaked in the third grade when I was designated head projectionist and master of the filmstrip machine. Ding...
Somehow I cannot escape the notion that my aborted stories are a metaphor for my life. Things start off promising and then kind of fizzle. It is sad to think I peaked in the third grade when I was designated head projectionist and master of the filmstrip machine. Ding...
July 13, 2012
Before I die I want to be a Judge for one day
Take her out back and give her something to really complain about. That is my remedy.
The lawyer that filed this case -- there is no punishment good enough. Perhaps a whack with a ball bat for every dollar he cost the legal system and the defendant and his attorneys defending this suit. Plus an extra home-run swing for my aggravation at reading such ridiculous nonsense.
Seriously -- Justin F-ing Bieber? It is a good thing this asshole did not take her daughter to a heavy metal gig.
I am willing to bet she voted for Obama. Any takers?
I think the term "money-grubbing bitch" might be appropriate.
The lawyer that filed this case -- there is no punishment good enough. Perhaps a whack with a ball bat for every dollar he cost the legal system and the defendant and his attorneys defending this suit. Plus an extra home-run swing for my aggravation at reading such ridiculous nonsense.
Seriously -- Justin F-ing Bieber? It is a good thing this asshole did not take her daughter to a heavy metal gig.
I am willing to bet she voted for Obama. Any takers?
I think the term "money-grubbing bitch" might be appropriate.
Button your lip
But it is Friday! The atmospheric analysts have manipulated their models and are prognosticating some precipitation for this arid area.
I'll pause while you read that again. Feel free to imagine the satisfied smirk on my fleshy face.
It is not often that I hope for a rained out weekend, but we could sure use it. I bet you could too.
What? Why are you still here? Put your hand down. What do you mean you have a question? Oh, the picture? It has nothing to do with the post. Nor does the title, but you should know by now that is often the case around here. Yes, yes the picture; those guys are found in my favorite Bugs Bunny cartoon. They make me laugh. Oh, that's so sweet, you did not really think this place was for your amusement did you?
July 12, 2012
And why would you vote for this guy?
Soooo....
As near as I can fathom, here is Obama's platform for his second term:
Raise taxes on the "millionaires" making $250,000 or more per year.
That is it. He has no more idea on how to fix the economy than my neighbor's dog.
Either the inexperienced community organizer really has no clue, or he is afraid to tell you what he has in mind. Which is it, loyal Democrats?
As near as I can fathom, here is Obama's platform for his second term:
Raise taxes on the "millionaires" making $250,000 or more per year.
That is it. He has no more idea on how to fix the economy than my neighbor's dog.
Either the inexperienced community organizer really has no clue, or he is afraid to tell you what he has in mind. Which is it, loyal Democrats?
Waiting is more than a movie title, it is my life
I like to get to the airport early. I vowed early in my traveling career to never make like OJ Simpson and run through an airport*. There is always another flight. I was walking briskly on the moving walkway** that leads to the terminal earlier this week when my cell phone rang. It was the airline, my 3:30 flight was delayed until 4:15. Damn. My premeditated arrival time just grew a bigger cushion. Shortly before 2:00 found me heading into the B gates security area. Oh well, I had plenty to read on my trusty Kindle ereader.
I entered the security area. There was no one there. As in passengers. I walked right up to the ID checkpoint, no need to use the frequent traveler shortcut. After chatting with the agent I headed to the naked passenger viewer line. I slipped off my shoes and belt. I grabbed my liquids from a handy pocket of my bag and padded to the machine. I performed my requisite moose horn pantomime***. Out of habit I grabbed my stuff quickly off the belt and plopped down on the nearby bench to re-shoe my feet and re-belt my pants.
Throughout the afternoon the digital minutes clicked by as I read away in my Kindle. Me and Michael Corleone got that bastard Solozzo****. The plane suffered yet another delay and a move to a different gate. Finally around 5:00 the flight was cancelled altogether and we were told to go down to another gate for re-assignment. I was among the first in line and scored a seat on a plane leaving in 45 minutes. I had to trade my aisle seat for a middle seat, but Charlotte is only a little over an hour away by plane,
Only about 20 minutes late, the aircraft pushed off from the gate, waddled across the tarmac and parked. The man-in-charge came over the scratchy speakers and said we were on ground hold. He said we could pull out our electronic devices since we were going to be there a while. At least he left the A/C on. The last time I was stuck in the biscuit tube they call an aircraft I was in Detroit and the pilot turned off the engines and let us swelter for 2.5 hours. We sat there for a little over an hour and a half before we got the go-ahead to brave the wild blue yonder.
I finally arrived in a rainy Charlotte***** sometime around eight thirty in the PM. The trip only a few scant hours shorter than I could have driven it. Such is life. I arrived a the Hertz counter, my Gold reservation long since given to another driver. The happy lady asked if my flight was delayed. I gave her a ten second synopsis: delayed, cancelled ground hold. She responded by finding me a brand new car, a VW Passat with 23 miles on the odometer.. It smelled new, no rental car odor. The hotel surprised me with an upgrade to a suite. Diamond membership does have its rewards. As a bonus, since I arrived so late there was no issue with traffic!
So while the long day started poorly, it ended well. So, you wish you had a job like mine and get to travel all over the place, eh?
* Remember when OJ was famous for something besides knives and gloves andmurder robberies?
**Walk left stand right. I am not sure why the concept of a moving sideWALK is so complicated for the average traveler.
***If have been in an airport lately you know what I mean by this
**** I am aware that is not proper English
***** "I arrived in Charlotte" -- every time I type that phrase I crack up for reasons I cannot publicly explain.
I entered the security area. There was no one there. As in passengers. I walked right up to the ID checkpoint, no need to use the frequent traveler shortcut. After chatting with the agent I headed to the naked passenger viewer line. I slipped off my shoes and belt. I grabbed my liquids from a handy pocket of my bag and padded to the machine. I performed my requisite moose horn pantomime***. Out of habit I grabbed my stuff quickly off the belt and plopped down on the nearby bench to re-shoe my feet and re-belt my pants.
Throughout the afternoon the digital minutes clicked by as I read away in my Kindle. Me and Michael Corleone got that bastard Solozzo****. The plane suffered yet another delay and a move to a different gate. Finally around 5:00 the flight was cancelled altogether and we were told to go down to another gate for re-assignment. I was among the first in line and scored a seat on a plane leaving in 45 minutes. I had to trade my aisle seat for a middle seat, but Charlotte is only a little over an hour away by plane,
Only about 20 minutes late, the aircraft pushed off from the gate, waddled across the tarmac and parked. The man-in-charge came over the scratchy speakers and said we were on ground hold. He said we could pull out our electronic devices since we were going to be there a while. At least he left the A/C on. The last time I was stuck in the biscuit tube they call an aircraft I was in Detroit and the pilot turned off the engines and let us swelter for 2.5 hours. We sat there for a little over an hour and a half before we got the go-ahead to brave the wild blue yonder.
I finally arrived in a rainy Charlotte***** sometime around eight thirty in the PM. The trip only a few scant hours shorter than I could have driven it. Such is life. I arrived a the Hertz counter, my Gold reservation long since given to another driver. The happy lady asked if my flight was delayed. I gave her a ten second synopsis: delayed, cancelled ground hold. She responded by finding me a brand new car, a VW Passat with 23 miles on the odometer.. It smelled new, no rental car odor. The hotel surprised me with an upgrade to a suite. Diamond membership does have its rewards. As a bonus, since I arrived so late there was no issue with traffic!
So while the long day started poorly, it ended well. So, you wish you had a job like mine and get to travel all over the place, eh?
* Remember when OJ was famous for something besides knives and gloves and
**Walk left stand right. I am not sure why the concept of a moving sideWALK is so complicated for the average traveler.
***If have been in an airport lately you know what I mean by this
**** I am aware that is not proper English
***** "I arrived in Charlotte" -- every time I type that phrase I crack up for reasons I cannot publicly explain.
July 11, 2012
Wayback Wednesday
Some songs just sound like summer. They evoke memories of sweltering days, and cruisin' the strip. Songs can bring to mind the nights driving the country roads flinging just-emptied beer bottles at mailboxes or sweaty kisses with your date at the drive in. Some tunes just remind us of the joy of youth.
One summer Mom volunteered my brother and I to scrape and paint our grandma's garage. It took us far longer than the job required, but finish it we did. I have every reason to believe the job was often interrupted by joking, by bickering, and plain old screwing around. That is what brothers do. I am also more than certain Otter found plenty of excuses to just disappear for long stretches while I worked my ass off in the summer sun. That's what he did. Grandma always did like him best.
I do remember this song got a lot of airplay on the radio and still today those opening licks take me back to the summer of 1978:
One summer Mom volunteered my brother and I to scrape and paint our grandma's garage. It took us far longer than the job required, but finish it we did. I have every reason to believe the job was often interrupted by joking, by bickering, and plain old screwing around. That is what brothers do. I am also more than certain Otter found plenty of excuses to just disappear for long stretches while I worked my ass off in the summer sun. That's what he did. Grandma always did like him best.
I do remember this song got a lot of airplay on the radio and still today those opening licks take me back to the summer of 1978:
July 10, 2012
Reason 64 you wish you were me
Things finally cooled down a bit -- to the low nineties -- yesterday. I threw some chicken tits on the grill, rubbed down with some fine secret rubbing stuff. I love to rub breasties. When they were almost done I slapped on some first rate BBQ sauce. I served them with some fresh corn on the cob and some cheesy banquet potatoes. I also made some biscuits. I wanted some fresh 'maters, but I did not make it to the farmer's market in time. For dessert I diced up an apple, a kiwi, pitted some cherries and rough cut some strawberries. I threw in a few cashews and made a nice fruit salad.
Just describing the meal makes me hungry all over again.
Just describing the meal makes me hungry all over again.
July 9, 2012
Jessica Bruning is ignorant
Last evening I was reading an article from USA Today on my Kindle Fire. The article was about the paper's Swing States Poll. The article quotes one Jessica Bruning of Holstein, Iowa. While I am not a big fan of Romney, it is clear Jessica Bruning of Holstein, Iowa is from a fitting place, she is clearly as dumb as a cow.
Of course Obama, by refusing cooperate with the Republican majority, will drop a monumental tax increase on the poor and middle class by letting the Bush Tax Cuts expire. But Jessica Bruning of Holstein Iowa cannot be bothered with truth. Obama has burdened the entire Nation with billions of new taxes in ObamaCare, but we will just pretend we are Jessica Bruning of Holstein, Iowa and ignore those unpleasant facts.
Jessica Brunng of Holstein, Iowa is like a lot of Americans. She does not have the time nor inclination to actually follow the political affairs of her nation, but she will take her uniformed ass straight to the polls and vote in November.
If Jessica Bruning of Holstein, Iowa indicated she favored the big-government Democrat policies of the President and intended to vote for him based on that, I can accept her position. Hell, some people actually believe in Scientology and peaceful Muslims. But deciding to vote based on some made-up shit she misheard down at McDonald's -- that is just ignorance on display.
What has she learned? That ...Romney "wants to cut taxes for the rich people and raise them for the poor."
This woman outta take a minute or two to actually read a paper or watch the news. No politician, not Romney, not Obama, has actually said they are going to raise taxes on poor people. Her comment is astoundingly stupid."I don't think that's cool," she says. She plans to vote for Obama.
Of course Obama, by refusing cooperate with the Republican majority, will drop a monumental tax increase on the poor and middle class by letting the Bush Tax Cuts expire. But Jessica Bruning of Holstein Iowa cannot be bothered with truth. Obama has burdened the entire Nation with billions of new taxes in ObamaCare, but we will just pretend we are Jessica Bruning of Holstein, Iowa and ignore those unpleasant facts.
Jessica Brunng of Holstein, Iowa is like a lot of Americans. She does not have the time nor inclination to actually follow the political affairs of her nation, but she will take her uniformed ass straight to the polls and vote in November.
If Jessica Bruning of Holstein, Iowa indicated she favored the big-government Democrat policies of the President and intended to vote for him based on that, I can accept her position. Hell, some people actually believe in Scientology and peaceful Muslims. But deciding to vote based on some made-up shit she misheard down at McDonald's -- that is just ignorance on display.
July 8, 2012
Memory Lane is more like a dark alley strewn with abandoned cars, garbage, pimps and potholes
Yesterday was soul-sucking hot. I suspect it is a mere preview of what I can expect in the afterlife. I hope not, but ...
Anyway, yesterday was about as uncomfortable as any day I can remember. I have spent some hot days in the sun. In my youth I worked summers as a roofer. I spent my days perched high above the ground, usually on industrial sites: repairs, replacements, new stuff.
Let me tell you, you know hot when you spend the day in the sun, sans any shade at all, working in 180 degree hot tar. The sun burns your face, the tar burns through your heavy work boots. But my discomfort was mitigated by muttering a constant mantra of $12 bucks an hour...$12 bucks an hour...Throw in an occasional bonus of overtime plus travel expenses and you have a pretty good summer gig. A weekly check that topped five hundred bucks is pretty good for a part-time summer job these days (provided you can even find a summer job). It was unbelievably good money back in the early 1980's. To measure that kind of wealth in college boy terms, twelve bucks an hour was two cases of beer earned every hour -- and that meant the good stuff, not Kroger Cost Cutter beer, Fallstaf or Carling's Black Label.
It was brutally hard work. The fucking union took $70 a week off the top of my paycheck. Even today, more than three decades later, the idea that more than one-half a day's work went straight into the pockets of the AFL/CIO pisses me off. For ten weeks every summer some Mafioso or Commie Bastard or Democrat stole money from my labors. Some things never change, do they?
Anyway, yesterday was about as uncomfortable as any day I can remember. I have spent some hot days in the sun. In my youth I worked summers as a roofer. I spent my days perched high above the ground, usually on industrial sites: repairs, replacements, new stuff.
Let me tell you, you know hot when you spend the day in the sun, sans any shade at all, working in 180 degree hot tar. The sun burns your face, the tar burns through your heavy work boots. But my discomfort was mitigated by muttering a constant mantra of $12 bucks an hour...$12 bucks an hour...Throw in an occasional bonus of overtime plus travel expenses and you have a pretty good summer gig. A weekly check that topped five hundred bucks is pretty good for a part-time summer job these days (provided you can even find a summer job). It was unbelievably good money back in the early 1980's. To measure that kind of wealth in college boy terms, twelve bucks an hour was two cases of beer earned every hour -- and that meant the good stuff, not Kroger Cost Cutter beer, Fallstaf or Carling's Black Label.
It was brutally hard work. The fucking union took $70 a week off the top of my paycheck. Even today, more than three decades later, the idea that more than one-half a day's work went straight into the pockets of the AFL/CIO pisses me off. For ten weeks every summer some Mafioso or Commie Bastard or Democrat stole money from my labors. Some things never change, do they?
July 7, 2012
I've got this pain...
I was set to talk about wounds and pain and swelling and such. It suddenly occurred to me I am becoming a 70 year old woman, every one-sided conversation we have around here is about what the fuck is wrong with me. Sorry.
I am not that old. Yet.
Maybe I have told you a little secret in one of the three thousand plus posts I have cobbled together over the years: I used to be a librarian. Yes, indeed, and let me tell you something, librarian conventions are not nearly the fun you imagine they are. I was the librarian at a branch library in a very small town (population 2,500). I was the man at the place, in fact, the only employee.
Anyway, on my last day at the little library I ran I was chomping at the bit to get out. Mrs. Mays came in late in the afternoon, like she did every day. I gave her the standard greeting "Good afternoon, Mrs. Mays, how are you?" And as usual she started to tell me. She listed a headache, back pain, whatever. And like many twenty-somethings I lost control and just blurted out "I'm sorry, Mrs. Mays, but that was a rhetorical question". She stared at me for a long moment , gave a mighty harrumph and headed into the stacks.
Alberta, one of my favorite patrons, was in the building, and began to laugh her head off. She came over and in her typical loud fashion exclaimed "I have wanted to tell her that for years".
The day was winding down and I was making sure the place was clean and tidy and ready for the next librarian to take over. The door banged open and Alberta was there. She asked me to come outside. There, in her little wagon she used to haul books back and forth to her house a few blocks away, was a case of beer. For me. She said it was a reward for being such a good friend over the past couple of years, but mostly for "shutting up that Mays bitch". Alberta added in a stage whisper " I have hated that old lady for thirty years".
When you come by here to see what is going on you are only metaphysically wondering how I am today. You really don't want to know or care. You just want to be entertained. Or something.
So, I am not going to tell you about that kind of shit. At least not today.
Have a great weekend.
I am not that old. Yet.
Maybe I have told you a little secret in one of the three thousand plus posts I have cobbled together over the years: I used to be a librarian. Yes, indeed, and let me tell you something, librarian conventions are not nearly the fun you imagine they are. I was the librarian at a branch library in a very small town (population 2,500). I was the man at the place, in fact, the only employee.
Anyway, on my last day at the little library I ran I was chomping at the bit to get out. Mrs. Mays came in late in the afternoon, like she did every day. I gave her the standard greeting "Good afternoon, Mrs. Mays, how are you?" And as usual she started to tell me. She listed a headache, back pain, whatever. And like many twenty-somethings I lost control and just blurted out "I'm sorry, Mrs. Mays, but that was a rhetorical question". She stared at me for a long moment , gave a mighty harrumph and headed into the stacks.
Alberta, one of my favorite patrons, was in the building, and began to laugh her head off. She came over and in her typical loud fashion exclaimed "I have wanted to tell her that for years".
The day was winding down and I was making sure the place was clean and tidy and ready for the next librarian to take over. The door banged open and Alberta was there. She asked me to come outside. There, in her little wagon she used to haul books back and forth to her house a few blocks away, was a case of beer. For me. She said it was a reward for being such a good friend over the past couple of years, but mostly for "shutting up that Mays bitch". Alberta added in a stage whisper " I have hated that old lady for thirty years".
When you come by here to see what is going on you are only metaphysically wondering how I am today. You really don't want to know or care. You just want to be entertained. Or something.
So, I am not going to tell you about that kind of shit. At least not today.
Have a great weekend.
July 6, 2012
Hot Town
It is hotter than Hades around these parts. I bet it is at your house too. It is summer, that's what happens in summer -- it gets hot. I bet come January it will be much colder. I could be a weatherman.
We did not do much on the Fourth, as I posted there were no fireworks in my little city. I watched me some John Wayne in Hellfighters and Frank in Von Ryan's Express. For supper I threw some burgers on the grill. I made homemade potato salad, macaroni salad and deviled eggs to round out the meal. Earlier in the day I made some brownies too.
Back to work yesterday, it seemed like the second Monday of the week.
I had some interesting political discussions tis week. Two different buddies on two different days expressed the same attitude. One is a moderate, the other a staunch Democrat Union guy, a lifer in the Postal Service. Neither wants Obama to take another run at things, and neither is crazy about Romney (that makes three of us). Both think ObamaCare is a horrible idea, there is no way the cost can be contained or the current level of care they both enjoy can be continued. Both are in a strong "through the bums out" mode concerning Congress.
I'm not sure what this means, after all anecdote is not data, and a sampling size of three is not too relevant. But I think the People are fed up. The Democrats and Republicans did not get the signals in 2010 and I think there is Hell to pay for many politicians come November.
We did not do much on the Fourth, as I posted there were no fireworks in my little city. I watched me some John Wayne in Hellfighters and Frank in Von Ryan's Express. For supper I threw some burgers on the grill. I made homemade potato salad, macaroni salad and deviled eggs to round out the meal. Earlier in the day I made some brownies too.
Back to work yesterday, it seemed like the second Monday of the week.
I had some interesting political discussions tis week. Two different buddies on two different days expressed the same attitude. One is a moderate, the other a staunch Democrat Union guy, a lifer in the Postal Service. Neither wants Obama to take another run at things, and neither is crazy about Romney (that makes three of us). Both think ObamaCare is a horrible idea, there is no way the cost can be contained or the current level of care they both enjoy can be continued. Both are in a strong "through the bums out" mode concerning Congress.
I'm not sure what this means, after all anecdote is not data, and a sampling size of three is not too relevant. But I think the People are fed up. The Democrats and Republicans did not get the signals in 2010 and I think there is Hell to pay for many politicians come November.
July 5, 2012
Don't look Ethel
I posted a tale of woe a few days ago about how my new running shoes blistered my heels. Despite wearing them around the house and lacing them properly, I still got a painful blister. I blame it on using the treadmill, even though treadmills usually don't cause me any more trouble than pavement in the neighborhood. Mostly these shoes are just cut differently from the Asics I usually wear.
Lest you think I am complaining about a tiny little blister on the back of my heel, here is what it looked like yesterday evening:
Do you have any idea how hard it is to take a cell phone picture of the back of your foot? The stuff I do for you...It has formed a bruise/blood blister under the regular blister.
That bump on the left is my anklebone for size reference. Yes, before you point it out I am aware I have skinny ankles.
By the way, you probably should skip this post if you are squeamish about sores and such.
Lest you think I am complaining about a tiny little blister on the back of my heel, here is what it looked like yesterday evening:
 | |||
| Click for an even better view. Nothing stirs your appetite like a close-up of an oozing sore. |
That bump on the left is my anklebone for size reference. Yes, before you point it out I am aware I have skinny ankles.
By the way, you probably should skip this post if you are squeamish about sores and such.
July 4, 2012
Happy Independence Day
No fireworks around here. The authorities are afeared the prospect of kiddies waving sparklers will set the county aflame. No personal nor public boom-boom allowed. I understand, but my mostest favorite holiday won't be the same.
Happy Birthday America
July 3, 2012
I wonder, wonder
..if the Liberals who are praising Chief Justice John Roberts for his wisdom when he ruled that that it is not the job of the court to protect the people from the consequences of their political choices would be so effusive with their praise if he were to uphold the Defense of Marriage Act under the same grounds?
Tight Laced
I laced 'em as tight as I could stand. But my best was not enough, I guess. My new running shoes made big blisters on the back of both heels. The right one is nickle sized, the left heel blister is about the diameter of a quarter.
When your feetsies are mostly numb that means the sores are generally raw and oozing blood before the pain reaches the brain.
When your feetsies are mostly numb that means the sores are generally raw and oozing blood before the pain reaches the brain.
July 2, 2012
Powerless: a rambling vent that will not make sense to any of you but makes me feel better. Or worse.
After a weekend, I am more pissed about the politics in this nation than ever. I think I may be out of step. I am all for helping out my fellow man. But it is not charity when it is forced by threat of law.
People make bad choices. I have made more than a few myself, believe me. Bad things happen to very good people. We all have a duty to help those who most need it. For instance, I have no issue with unemployment benefits. I have lost more than one job. I know that unemployment would have saved my family had I not been lucky enough to land new employment right away.
As much as it pains me, we cannot provide a safety net for everyone. This realization is what puts me out of step, I guess. Every politician, regardless of party, needs a big sign, lit in changing neon colors, flashing these words above his desk: "That is someone else's money you are spending".
I am lost. Cannot the powers-that-be see the end result of the progressive game we are playing? ObamCare costs will spiral out of control very quickly as people make bad life choices. The People will call for restraint. Just as the anti-smoking lobby has pinned their attacks on the increased cost to the rest of us in healthcare, the anti-fat, anti-meat anti-whatevers will bring their "I know better than you" attitude into the fray. Soon the Government will not only decree what size soda you can drink, but what you need to eat as well. In a few decades the McDonald's and Burger Kings of today will be relics of a nostalgic bygone age like drive-ins and the general store. And why not, if I am paying for your everyday living expenses I have a right to dictate how you spend that money. Haven't we all decried the food stamp (yes I know debit card) user at the grocery buying steak and name brand stuff while we are counting quarters to buy hot dogs? Aren't we all pissed to see them buying cigarretts and beer with the cash they did not have to use for foodstuff? I will be just as pissed to see you eating Big Macs and large fries while I am buying your Metformin and Lipitor.
Trust me, today it is healthcare, tommorrow it will be long-term care for the elderly. Our grandkids will know only a government that provides for their every need. The individual you will have to sacrifice for the collective us. Already the battle cry is faint in the distance, but drawing nearer: "the rich do not pay their fair share, who needs all that money, why do they have all of those cars..." How far off are government mandated salaries and wages?
I don't know. When you lose every battle is it realistic to think you can win the war?
People make bad choices. I have made more than a few myself, believe me. Bad things happen to very good people. We all have a duty to help those who most need it. For instance, I have no issue with unemployment benefits. I have lost more than one job. I know that unemployment would have saved my family had I not been lucky enough to land new employment right away.
As much as it pains me, we cannot provide a safety net for everyone. This realization is what puts me out of step, I guess. Every politician, regardless of party, needs a big sign, lit in changing neon colors, flashing these words above his desk: "That is someone else's money you are spending".
I am lost. Cannot the powers-that-be see the end result of the progressive game we are playing? ObamCare costs will spiral out of control very quickly as people make bad life choices. The People will call for restraint. Just as the anti-smoking lobby has pinned their attacks on the increased cost to the rest of us in healthcare, the anti-fat, anti-meat anti-whatevers will bring their "I know better than you" attitude into the fray. Soon the Government will not only decree what size soda you can drink, but what you need to eat as well. In a few decades the McDonald's and Burger Kings of today will be relics of a nostalgic bygone age like drive-ins and the general store. And why not, if I am paying for your everyday living expenses I have a right to dictate how you spend that money. Haven't we all decried the food stamp (yes I know debit card) user at the grocery buying steak and name brand stuff while we are counting quarters to buy hot dogs? Aren't we all pissed to see them buying cigarretts and beer with the cash they did not have to use for foodstuff? I will be just as pissed to see you eating Big Macs and large fries while I am buying your Metformin and Lipitor.
Trust me, today it is healthcare, tommorrow it will be long-term care for the elderly. Our grandkids will know only a government that provides for their every need. The individual you will have to sacrifice for the collective us. Already the battle cry is faint in the distance, but drawing nearer: "the rich do not pay their fair share, who needs all that money, why do they have all of those cars..." How far off are government mandated salaries and wages?
I don't know. When you lose every battle is it realistic to think you can win the war?
July 1, 2012
Dear Fellow Hoosiers
Joe Donnelly is running to represent Indiana in the U.S. Senate as a candidate for the Democratic Party. He voted for ObamaCare, the largest single tax increase on the middle class and poor of this country in history.
Had Joe Donnelly voted NO, ObamaCare would not have passed.
Let me repeat, Joe Donnelly voted to increase your taxes, reduce your healthcare options, increase your insurance costs and to increase the national debt by more than a trillion dollars. He could have stopped it, but he did not have the courage to stand up to Nancy Pelosi. Joe Donnelly lacked the courage to vote in the best interest of the taxpayers in Indiana.
Remember who to blame come November.
*fixed. I'm an idiot. New rule, no posting before coffee.
Had Joe Donnelly voted NO, ObamaCare would not have passed.
Let me repeat, Joe Donnelly voted to increase your taxes, reduce your healthcare options, increase your insurance costs and to increase the national debt by more than a trillion dollars. He could have stopped it, but he did not have the courage to stand up to Nancy Pelosi. Joe Donnelly lacked the courage to vote in the best interest of the taxpayers in Indiana.
Remember who to blame come November.
*fixed. I'm an idiot. New rule, no posting before coffee.
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