Whaaaah

Woke  up early. Have a toothache. Mowed, did yard work yesterday. Allergies are kicking my butt as a result. The boss is back from vacation today, so I am sure I will be hounded later today. It will be a major failure that I was unable to get prospects to call me back during a short holiday week.

I could go on. I think neither of us wants that.

It is real, not a video game

I was watching the Cubs vs. the Mets last night while the wife did whatever she does on her iPad. The announcers were droning away in that obnoxious way the national telecast guys do (this one was on Fox). John Smoltz mentioned recent discussions for rule changes in baseball and he was for most of them. I think those he mentioned would make the game unrecognizable and pointless. In fact, some of these proposals make the odious designated hitter rule look like a good idea. And yes, I know it is only a matter of time before the DH becomes standard in both leagues. Spit.

Smoltz is all for the girls softball rule where you put runners on base to start extra innings. He see no point in long extra inning games. Except maybe the fans enjoy them. Me, I think it is great when managers back themselves in a corner, using up pitchers. I like to see the backup catcher take the mound. Besides, baseball managers and front office types are always reminding fans that it is a long season and one or two games can be meaningless. Unless they lose one extra inning game because they used a pitcher to pitch to two batters back in the seventh. I ain't buying it. John Smoltz was a great pitcher but he has no idea what a fan thinks, clearly. His position is all from a player point of view. We don't like playing 12 or 14 innings, whah. 

Can you imagine Game 7 of the 2016 Cubs/Indians World Series with the "put free runners on base" notion? There would be no drama, no tension, no sport. Indians fans might joke at they would have liked to see a batter with a better average than .160 or so take the final at-bat, but that is how the game is played. It is sport, not a video game where you get to have your favorite player bat all of the time.

Worse was the idea of letting teams hit any batter if they are behind in the ninth or in extra inning games, regardless of the batting order. Jeez, why not just have a super DH that does all of the batting all of the time? Just think what Ruth or Hank or Mantle could have done had they batted 27 times each game. Ted Williams, Ty Cobb or Pete Rose would have each had millions of hits.

Disgusted, I finally went to bed and listened to the regular Cubs radio broadcasters describe a glorious 14 inning game, filling the downtime with stats, anecdotes, and nonsense as baseball should be presented. The game followed the rules pretty much as first encoded almost a century and a half ago. There was no rule change that would have made the game more enjoyable. It was perfect as played.

Either you enjoy baseball or you don't. Changing the rules will not make a non-fan suddenly start watching. It might drive away those who love the game though.

Help me Rhonda

Tomorrow is the March of Dimes event in Indy. We will be walking and raising money. My grandson passed away from birth defects in November.

Skip that store-bought coffee today and send a Lincoln to your local March of Dimes organization.

I don’t do the beg for money thing here. I don’t have a tip jar or an Amazon link. I do not have ads.*.

I am asking you to help on this one. Let me know if you want to direct your gift.

Five bucks for a good cause. If you wanted to do more, that is great. Even a dollar is a generous gift in my book.

Thanks in advance.



* that is certainly not a comment on those who do use their blogs to make money.

it was a timebomb from day one

Roseanne is a pig of a human being. She always has been. No one should be surprised she went over the top with a racist tweet. Does gingerbread ring any bells?

Should ABC cancel her show? That is a business decision.

For those outraged beyond measure by her comments, try watching any episode of SNL with an open mind and you will see comments and skits equally as course and disgusting as Roseanne’s tweet directed at President Trump and his supporters.

Today’s politics are anything but civil.

making the old new again

I did something last weekend I have not done in years. I read a book.

I’ve read more books than I can count in the past several years, but not real, physical books.

I guess the last “real” book I read might have been in 2012 or so. I had already mostly switched to the Kindle after I got my first one in 2009. I read about 50% paper books and the balance electronic books in those days.

As my vision started going, I needed brighter light to read so newspapers disappeared first from my daily reads. Then magazines. Finally things got to the point where I needed the backlight and larger print the Kindle afforded. I sold and donated a huge collection of books when we moved in 2013, thinking my “book” days were behind me. I kept only a few favorite series: the Sharpe books, the Aubrey/Maturin books, and select rare history tomes. My dad took my WEB Griffin and entire Louis L’Amour collection.

Long time readers may remember I had cornea transplant surgery in 2016. My vision is now a pretty good corrected 20/30.

Habit and convenience kept the Kindle as my sole reader. A few weeks ago I scored an ebook volume of Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe books for free or practically free. I forgot how much I liked the series. Unfortunately, the rest of the books in the series are ridiculously expensive on Amazon for electronic books 15 20 years old. I dug out my box o’books and found the physical copies. Yes! I could read the print without trouble. So I guess I’m going to read some real books in the coming weeks.

It will be hard to forego the convenience and light weight of the e-reader. Who knows, maybe I’ll like it?

On this day

It is not all about the BBQ or the beer or even mattress sales. Remember those who gave their lives for our freedom.

Vroom, splash, pop

Happy Sunday to you. If you like motor sports , today is your day. F1, NASCAR, and Indy are all revving their engines. It will be hot and humid for the Indy 500. I suspect lots of beer headaches by mid afternoon out at the Speedway. I won’t be there. I’ve been there and done that. The race is fun and the cars are faster than you can imagine if you have only seen the race on TV. The traffic to and fro the track is unbelievable. The start of the Indy race will make your heart flutter and the hair prickle on the back of your neck. The raw power of those cars is almost visceral. The end of the race is almost always thrilling. The rest is just watching the cars whiz by for a couple of hours.

We are heading off to hang with friends. Lounging in the pool, sipping cold beer, and smooth burning stogies are on tap. Yet another reason you wish you were me.

My new Chicago Cubs chapeau arrived yesterday ahead of schedule. This negates my complaints detailed in an earlier post. So it goes. I can’t even get my bitching right.

My son-in-law’s family had a tree planted at Butler University in honor of my grandson. Both my daughter and SIL are graduates of Butler. They met there. It is somehow appropriate that a memorial to their lost son be planted in Holcomb Gardens at the university. We met there yesterday for an unofficial dedication. Both families, his and ours,  then enjoyed a nice luncheon afterwards. It was a nice and bittersweet event.

Enjoy your day.

And yet again

Another school shooting this morning. This time a few miles from my abode.

No one reportedly dead.

Details will come out in due time.

The local news needs to really stop interviewing bystanders with no knowledge of the situation. Rumor, innuendo, and supposition, even from a parent, serves no purpose beyond filling the airwaves in a rush to be “first”. It is cheap sensational reporting and at worst, it is irresponsible.

i see leaves of green

Wednesday evening the wife wanted to run by the mall to do whatever she does at the mall. It was a warm and gorgeous night. As we walked up to the main entrance there was a group of six or seven teens talking near the entrance to one of the “outside” stores. They were not blocking the store, nor the sidewalk.  They were not loud nor boisterous. It was just a group of teen boys who happened to be black. I thought nothing of it at all.

Just as we got past the group a security guard came out of the mall and started telling the kids to leave. A second guard came hurrying out the mall doors as we went in; backup to a non-situation.

All I could think was those kids were being harassed for being black.

Now I don’t know what went before. Had the boys been up to no good a few minutes before and asked to vacate? Were they the remnants of a fight still discussing the affair? Had one or more opted for a five finger discount in the nearby store? I don’t know and none of it was my business.

This mall has had some issues: shootings, fights, mini riots, mass theft. The owners have every right to make the property safe and attractive to shoppers. It is a retail space, not a rec center for bored teens.

Still, if I came in from the cold with a hood on my head would a security guard tell me it is mall policy that all hoods have to be lowered? I suspect fifty-something white me would get a hoodie pass where 18 year-old African Americans don’t.

I’m disturbed by that. I do not accept that I have been given any “privilege” or special advantages based on my skin color, but I’m not so stupid to believe there is no discrimination faced by others.

There is never a test and you don’t have to write a blue book essay

I ordered a new Cubs hat because I wanted to. I have several. All different styles. I was notified that it shipped last night. It is coming from a suburb of Columbus, OH. According to tracking it should arrive at my house on Tuesday by eight PM.  That’s no big deal. I paid for the 3-5 day shipping. I just find it interesting that it will take as much as 6 days* to go 170 miles.

According to my iPad maps app, I can walk from Groveport, OH to my home in 2 days and 13 hours. Theoretically, I could have walked over there, picked up my Cubs hat, and walked back home in the same time frame it will take FedEx to deliver it. I could drive it in 3 hours. I know because I have done it hundreds of times.

The Pony Express bragged they could deliver mail from St. Joseph. MO to Sacramento, CA in ten days, a distance of 1,996 miles. if I use my fingers and toes to calculate I think that comes to about 200 miles a day. My new Cubs chapeau will travel at a rate of about 28 miles per day. Where is Buffalo Bill when you need him?

On the other hand, It cost $1 to ship a 1/2 oz. letter by Pony Express in a time when an average laborer was making about $25 a month. My shipping costs in proportion are significantly less.

I’m sure you do not care about my hat. But look at the cool stuff you learned in this post. We discussed geography, history, economics, and math. Coming here is almost like going to school, only a lot more fun. And it is free!




* I know there is a weekend and holiday involved. If it shipped on Monday and got here Wednesday I wouldn’t have anything to post about and you wouldn’t have a chance to read about the Pony Express. Sheesh. 

This post has been done for 13 minutes and is waiting on a good title to come to me...

I sat on the patio last evening. It was warm and nice. I smoked a little cigar and listened to my blog friend Jean’s Indians rout my Cubbies. As one of my coaches used to tell me, there is no defense for a walk. There is none for a three-run homer either.

The wife was at the store getting important stuff like toilet paper. The boy’s dog romped in the grass. I could only see the lawn needs mowed, the flower beds need weeding, the shrubs want trimmed. I need a truckload of mulch.

 I need a gardener.

I also need patio furniture. Mine is pushing 20 years old and looks it. The chairs are shot. We did not pay all that much for it to start with and now it is just worn out. A couple of the sling back chairs are ripping, others are sprung. The cushioned chairs have the supporting rubber slings are broken. The whole thing is an embarrassment. Unfortunately, a new set is just not in the budget right now.

I’m reading a book about the legendary Dakota Apartments in New York. It was published in the late 1970’s, before John Lennon was murdered on the sidewalk in front of the building. The tome is mildly interesting from a historical perspective, but the subtle condescension and racism is a little off-putting.

There is a whole chapter about how the building went down hill after they started letting in “the homosexuals “ and how Roberta Flack, repeatedly noted as “the first black resident”, had no appreciation for the historical architecture of her apartment, looking to gut it and make it modern. That would be the apartment that Flack owned. Apparently, Lauren Bacall and “the John Lennons” were not the highbrow denizens of the past the author so admires either.

The author laments the passing of the days when Central Park was the playground of the rich, and the common people knew their betters and appreciated them. You can tell he just wants to type “damn hippies” every sentence.  Rosemary’s Baby was born at the Dakota. The book was free. It is pretty good for the price.  I’m shocked to find there are at least ten books about Tne Dakota listed on Amazon.

Do you think anyone will write a book about life at the Catalpa Apartments on Green Street? I was one of the original renters.

I don’t think so either.

Easy apple turnovers

Yesterday passed with sunny skies and warm and humid temperatures. The forecasted rain never materialized. I got the Barbie Jeep assembled with no issues and the wife did the decal work. It is ready for a test drive today if the weather cooperates.

I got the bathroom sink fixed. It took less than a half an hour.

Amazingly, I assembled the car and fixed the sink without uttering a single curse word! Oh, I was tempted. I came close. I growled a “ come on you mother” at a fitting that did not want to thread on the drainpipe, but left the universal adjective off the end of the sentence.

I made a grilled chicken salad for our dinner. Light fare for a warm day. I should have cut the grass and worked on the yard. Oh well, that chore will still be there today or tomorrow or whenever I have time. The work that actually pays the bills comes first on this Monday morning.

Here is a recap of the weekend political news: because Trump. Oh, and there was a wedding. I’m surprised the media did not find a way to claim the nuptials went off without a hitch because a Trump wasn’t involved. Maybe they did. I didn’t watch even one second of the coverage.

Here is a recap of SNL: Trump bad. We have to say a Trump bad in every skit, even if that means foregoing humor.

Enjoy your Monday. I’m sure Trump will do something that will make Watergate, the Teapot Dome scandal and the entire Grant administration look good in comparison, at least according to the media.

How I spent my Saturday

Hold on...

OK, I’m back. My coffee mug was empty. Let us see, yesterday was a busy day. I watched some TV in the morning. I got a haircut. I went and bought the supplies to do a minor plumbing repair that needs doing (duh, I wouldn’t by supplies for a job that isn’t needed). I didn’t actually do the work, mind you, but I bought the stuff.

After thinking about it for a week and significant vacillation, we splurged and bought the granddaughter a Power Wheels Barbie Jeep. We didn’t really have the money, but what the heck. I can get me a new grill another day. It was on sale at Target. I will have to assemble it today. If I drag it out long enough I might avoid fixing the sink.

We went to see my parents. Mom is doing OK, considering. She looked tired. She sent a box of stuff home. Again. Every time I go there she gives me another box of stuff. But she gave me a couple of pies. My mom makes incredible pies. She has won awards at the fair for her pies.

We went to hang with some friends. We all went for a catfish dinner. I ate entirely too much. We played cards afterward.

That was my Saturday. To summarize: I got a haircut.

I’m not sure why you would care about any of this. There is no life lesson to glean from the minutiae of my day. There is no inherent political message. No moral underpinnings to exploit. What you get here is a boring recitation of a boring Saturday. If you thought there was something of interest or import here you are sadly mistaken. The title actually represented the content, though. That doesn’t happen all of the time.

I did skip describing the weather. So there.

Is it over yet?

What is the fascination with so-called royalty and their activities? We fought two wars to rid ourselves of the plague of British monarchy. Now they have been sucking air time from news reports at a prodigious rate. Time that could be devoted to Russia, Russia, Russia. For some reason I cannot fathom, the local news has even sent a team to London to cover the “wedding”. The Saxe-Coburgs serve no purpose beyond sucking the wealth from the British taxpayers. I sure do not care about the wedding of number five or six in line for the throne. It s clear Elizabeth intends to live long enough to make sure Chuck never becomes king.

This one is for you Big Dick, wherever you are

The other night we went to a pizza joint*.  Long bench seats are on one side of tables and chairs the other. I was seated so I had a perfect view of an older woman. She was probably in her fifties and she was...well, it is hard to be charitable...she was fat. She was also ugly. And the swath of tattoos did not help. My opinion was also affected by her posture. She sat with one pudgy leg propped sideways on the bench seat, the other limb on the floor. Did I mention she was wearing a short dress? She had on pink undies. It is not like I was looking. It was just...there, right in my view. Her pink wrapped snatch area was staring right at me. Very large and in charge. There it was, a thick cellulite hambone of thigh and bulging pink...shudder.  I spent my meal staring down at my plate, afraid to even look up to take a drink. It was the exact opposite of sexy. It was the kind of sight that would turn a young man gay; turn him off women forever. The “What not to Wear” folks would have had a stroke on the spot. It almost put me off my feed. I told my wife when we got home she should throw away any pink panties she owned. I never want to see pink undies again.

I SO wish this was a post of fiction.


*This one

Participating in the Lightning Round

i made a quick trip to the Windy City yesterday. Up and back with a visit to the Home Office for my annual review sandwiched between the drives. I should rephrase. I made a quick trip up to the Northwest ‘burbs. It was a much slower return. That happens when you hit the road in the Greater Chicago area a little after 4 in the afternoon. The total trip north took me right at four hours in the morning. It took 2-1/2 hours just to reach Indiana in the afternoon.

I listened to the History on Fire podcast for much of the trip. I’m still way behind, I’m just getting through the Aztec episodes. I switched over to the Cubs -Braves game when it came on.

Nothing interesting happened unless you count the evil rental car trying to kill me. I stopped for a quick pee break at the middle-of-nowhere rest stop near Remington. As I climbed back into the car a gust of wind pushed the door shut on my arm, leaving ripped skin and a bloody gash on my left forearm. What is up with my old man paper skin these days?

Yesterday was a 13 plus hour day. Not so hard when you consider more than nine hours was windshield time. I was glad to get some minor on the road hours. Still, I can’t help but think a conference call or Skype review would have been a better use of everyone’s time and money.

A break from my normal fare

Last night the wife and I went to a decent restaurant to celebrate Tuesday. Plus, I know the executive chef. The food was great. I had cedar planked salmon, the wife had a steak. The decor was nice and cozy. The food is scratch-made, so if you are looking to dine and dash, you probably should choose a chain eatery. It wasn’t cheap, but it was delicious.

If you live on the Indy north side I would recommend Stompin’ Barley located at the corner of Carmel, Fishers, and  Noblesville at 146th and River Road.

It just takes time

The wife and I stopped by the cemetery Saturday evening. It was beautiful and warm. The jerks that run the place finally got grandson Sawyer's headstone set (sorta). It still needs the concrete foundation. My SIL had to get nasty to even get it out there. We could understand the issues with pouring concrete and setting the stone during the winter, but it has been warm for a while now. Anyway, it is finally up.

The setting is nice, as far as a grave goes. Right on the edge of a tree line, a small stream or ditch is in the distance. There are birds and squirrels and even deer. I saw tracks all winter and one ate the buds off some flowers on the grave. It was exactly the kind of spot I would choose to spend eternity. I can't help thinking that is fine for an old guy, heartbreaking for the resting place of a little baby.

I still have a tough time when I visit him. I don't know how his mom and dad manage.

In other news, MRIs indicate my mom has no permanent damage from her Sunday morning stroke. She passed cognition, memory, and balance tests yesterday afternoon and is scheduled to be released today. That is good news.

The next several paragraphs of complaints and general whining has been eliminated.

You are welcome.

Everyone has problems.  You don't need to suffer through a recitation of mine.

Mother's Day recap

The weather was beautiful yesterday for Mother's Day. We went to a nice Italian place with my daughter and her family.

The rest of tne day was not so great. My mother had a stroke yesterday morning. Happy Mother's Day indeed. She was admitted into the hospital over her objections Saturday with issues breathing, tiredness, and extremely high blood pressure. Apparently she suffered a minor stroke in the morning Sunday. Currently she has no paralysis, that passed, but is struggling to get the right words out. That pisses her off. Her frustration was evident.

My mom is 78. She is tough. She just retired one year ago this month. Seriously.

In the past year both my parents' health has deteriated. Dad is just recovering from having a large tumor removed from his neck in January and subsequent radiation treatments. For the first time ever he looks his eighty years. Before, you would have sworn he was 20 years younger. Mom has worried so much about dad, I think it has sapped her health. 

It is bright and sunny this morning. It just doesn't seem so to me.

A post for you

I wish the happiest of Mother's Day to all of you moms out there.

Unimaginative insipid tedium

It is a glorious Friday here at the old homestead. The sun is bright, but there is a chance for rain later. That is spring in these parts. A bunny was hopping around the flower beds out by the fence when I limped down to make my coffee and swallow my morning handful of meds. That dang rabbit is probably going to chew my lillies off at the ground.  I need to get some rabbit repellent at the big box hardware store.

I'm back. I bet you didn't even know I stepped away. I'm sneaky like that. I threw some Doughboy orange rolls into the oven for the girls (wife and granddaughter) and me. I have about 15 minutes to wrap this up, unless you don't mind another interruption while I feed my face.

I stayed up way too long reading last night. I'm sorta dragging this morning. Sugary pastries should perk me up.

Enjoy your Friday.

Yadda yadda

I imagine (imagine being the operative word) you are concerned about my sporadic postings of late. After nearly six thousand posts I may have finally talked myself out.

I'm sick of politics. My daily life is more boring than you can imagine. You don't care about my weather. Sports are not compelling. Do you really want to read about the dog shedding all over the house or the chipmunk on the front porch? Do you care what I ate for supper? I'm bored with those topics before I even type the thought.

My life is so boring right now, I cannot stand it. My efforts here are a reflection of that.

I did manage to sneak in a post though. Take that judgementalists.

Just like a slave, only not at all like it

I read where the mother of a Duke basketball player claims her son was just like a slave because he did not get paid for his basketball skills. She starred at Ole Miss and thinks she was enslaved by the NCAA too.

Both went to college for free, including tuition, room, board, and books. I suspect my three kids, each of which has monthly student loan payments equal to a mortgage payment would like to argue with her. Carter was paid sixty thousand dollars a year in kind for his efforts on the court. In addition, he got a college education. Slave? I think not. What slave gets $60K a year in compensation, including room and board, and can cease his labor at will? No one is forced to play ball. No one is forced to stay in school. You cannot be bought or sold to a school n Iowa or Utah. It is all voluntary. Slave? No, it is called a job, an opportunity to learn your craft and get compensated for it.

How about this, a prospective college athlete can choose an atheletic scholorship to pay for his education or get paid for playing. Players can choose minimum wage for official practice time, $15 or $20 an hour for game time and pay their own room and board. If they want the education, they take out loans like the rest of the student body to pay the tuition. The players who choose to get paid are just like the rest of us, if you do not work you do not get paid. I hope that knee holds up. You better get you some insurance.

Sorry student athletes, many students have commitments outside of class. All three of my kids worked while attending school.

Slave?

Spit.

Quit crying. All of us who work for the man make money for others. Do you think I was paid even 1% of the sales when I had a $35 million dollar territory? No. Not even close. Grow up students.

I will take collusion for $1000, Alex

For those desperately seeking evidence of collusion with a foreign government against the US*, look no further than reports that John Kerry has been meeting with foreign governments to find a way to keep Trump from dumping the Iran Nuclear agreement. Kerry has no official position. This is like you or I trying to negotiate outside of the government. This is a clear violation of the oft-cited but never enforced Logan Act.

This is not the first time citizen Kerry has deigned to negotiate on behalf of America. He tried to intervene in the negotiations surrounding he Vietnam War back in the seventies. Yes, he is a self-important jackanapes.

I wonder at the level of outrage had Trump tried to negotiate with say, the NOKs, had Hillary won the Oval Office. I suspect liberal heads would explode live on CNN.

I would give up beer and cigars for a month if Trump had Kerry arrested and perp walked. He doesn't even have to follow through with arraignment, just let me see on thelevision the figurative "knock it off, jerk" slap upside the head Kerry so richly deserves.


* there is no law against "collusion". Trump could have consulted Putin every single day during the 2016 campaign and broken nary a law.

I'm not sure I have ever seen a huckleberry

It seems I'm far more interested in reading, watching TV, diddling my navel, staring out the window, listening to music, or taking a nap than writing today.

That is either a good thing or disappointing news, depending on your point of view in this moment in time.

The electronic graveyard

I found my old Palm Tungsten E yesterday. I plugged it in and it surprisingly came back to life. The old data was gone. It has sat dormant for close to 15 years. I'm not surprised the memory is cleared.

This model was in a long list of Palm products I owned and used all of the time. I started with the venerable Palm Pilot sometime in the late 1990's. I grabbed the Palm IIIC when it came out with a color version and internal rechargeable battery. Then came the Tungsten. I bought a Palm Treo smart phone when it hit the market, combining my PDA and my mobile phone. My employer was pushing Blackberries, but I showed how all of my data and contacts was already on the Palm platform and how my phone had features the Blackberry could not match.  The computer guy eventually ditched his Blackberry for a Treo too.

Then the iPhone hit the market. I did not get the first generation model, the company was not that advanced. I did buy an iPod touch, though. Based on my Treo recommendation the boss was ready to let me experiment with the iPhone 3G. I have never looked back. I'm on my fourth or fifth iPhone. I could upgrade from my 6S, but it still works great. More importantly, it is paid for. My old iPhone 3G still works. I, or rather my Granddaughter, uses it as an iPod touch, playing music and taking pictures.

The old Palm Tungsten was pretty cool to find. They are going for $5 to $100 on EBay. I see several for sale. I'm not sure there are buyers.

It is amazing where tech has gone over the years.

I see trees of green...

I cannot believe how green it has gotten in the past week. Last Sunday when I was working in the yard most of the trees were still bare, just budding. Since temperatures have finally reached normal May levels the trees are in full leaf, the hostas are four inches tall,  and the lilies have grown remarkably. Everything is a deep emerald green. Tulips are blooming. What a difference a week makes! Best yet, I'm sporting shorts and a T-shirt instead of jeans and a fleece.

Don't worry, it won't be long before I'm complaining about the heat. Complaining is what I do best. And sarcasm. But rest assured, neither attribute makes an appearance in today's bloggity effort.

So far.

No, I think I will stop here before the snark rears its ugly head.

I hope you have a great Friday.

Nerd Alert

I was a semi-nerd in high school. I thought I was cool, but the fact I was not included in the parties and gatherings of the in-crowd was probably a hint. I wasn't picked on or bullied either. I wasn't part of the hoodlum crowd either. I was a kid who played sports and did band ( it was an easy "A"). I got good grades. In short, if such a vote had been held I would have been voted "most forgettable" of my high school class -- except no one would have remembered to vote for me. Instoner words,I was just like a lot of high school kids.

One thing pushed me to the nerd category: I was a Boy Scout. The local paper featured me a couple of times in the United Way write ups. Even in the Seventies being Joey Boy Scout wasn't a ticket to nekkid co-ed swim parties with the hot popular chicks. An Eagle Scout badge never made a teen girl swoon. Ever.

I enjoyed Scouts, especially the camping. After college I started out merit badge counseling for a local troop and eventually serving as a very young Ass't Scoutmaster. Kids and new jobs and a move ended that and I did not don a uniform again until my oldest boy jumped into Cub Scouts. I helped out and ended up being Weblos leader and finally Cub Master until he moved on and decided to be a Scout no more, eschewing Boy Scouts altogether. The youngest had no interest at all. He was into sports and I was OK with both boys' decisions.

Still, it pains me to see The Scouts succumb to pressure and go co-ed. Changing the name from Boy Scouts is even more pathetic. I get it. We talked about political pressure and declining Scout enrollment here when the decision was made to accept girls into the Boy Scouts. I suppose now critics cannot ridicule girls in the ranks by muttering "it is the BOY Scouts, fer cripes sake". Now the organization will just be "Scouts BSA".

Still, it just seems a little like combining the army and marines and calling that branch "military".

Oh well, I've been done with the BSA for a long time. No one asked me, and I'm sure they don't care for my opinion.

Tap, tap...tap,tap

Hello..lo...lo?

Is this thing on...on...on?

Flogging my brain with a dozen lashes of the cat

It just occurred to me I failed to post anything today.

Oh well.

Remedied through strict interpretation of blogging rules 13.7.42c.

...can't trust that day

Happy Monday Blog Buddies. Here we are at the onset of the work week and I'm tired as heck. I spent the weekend doing yard work: cleaning out flower beds, picking up six metric tons of sticks, mowing, trimming. I spread some seed over bare patches in the lawn and covered them with a thin layer of dirt. I'm not even close to being done.

I have a serious jones for some donuts this morning. Further blogging will be on a brief hiatus while I head to the local cruller purveyor to get my fix.

That figures

It is Saturday. Of course I wake up at 4:12. I tossed and turned for almost an hour before giving up and padding downstairs for my morning coffee and handful of meds: four pills of various names to combat my recalcitrant pancreas and a steroid drop in each eye to keep my body from rejecting the stranger's corneas that allow me to see.

You are listed as an organ donor, right?

It appears the boy's dog has been lounging in my blog room recliner. Donning a black T-shirt this morning was a mistake. It is now covered in white dog hair.

The Alexa is playing classic rock in the background. My coffee cup needs refilled. It is just another Saturday.

I hope yours is a good one.

Nary a trace of rancor

Happy Friday, readers.

I hope this spring day finds you well. Me? I'm great. It is seasonably warm and sunny. I'm inside working. So it goes.

I called a service to treat my yard. It needs fertilizer and weed control. I priced the stuff myself and the service is cheaper and hopefully will apply more evenly than I can do it. I live on a cul-de-sac, so I have neighbors' yards on three sides. None treat their weeds, so battling against a solid carpet of yellow dandelions in the neighbor's yard is a never-ending battle.

I have a ton of sticks to pick up, so I know how my weekend will be spent. I need to mow in the back.  I love my giant willow, but boy, does it make a mess.

Looking around last evening as I burned a cheap stogie in the mild evening air, it appears the boy's dog is wearing a path into the yard as he races from the back door to the far corner of the yard every time he goes out. I don't know how to get him to run another direction. 

Have a great Friday.

Leftists killed millions in the last century, what is one more little boy?

Alfie Evans is sick. He is going to die. The British NHS has determined this is so. They have pulled him off the ventilator. Stopped feeding him.

In case you do not know the story, plenty of articles are out there. Read several, I don't want to bias your research. You will have a hard time finding any that make Great Britain look good. In a nutshell doctors cannot identify the brain disorder affecting little Alfie and have stopped treatment. The parents object. The British courts have sided with the doctors, just like they did on the Charlie Gard situation last year.

An Italian hospital thinks they can treat 2year-old Alfie. There is a plane waiting to fly him to Rome. Alfie has been granted Italian citizenship to smooth the paperwork. The treatment will cost the NHS nothing.

The hospital and courts will not let the parents take Alfie for treatment. I don't get it.

I can say this, my grandson lived 21 hours. I would have taken just one more minute, hour, day. I know his parents would too, even knowing the outcome. Every one of those 1,260 minutes Sawyer lived was precious. If another hospital could have given him 60 or 90 or 1,000 more minutes I would have sold my soul to get them.

Read about Alfie then tell me the wonders of single payer healthcare. Tell me about the joys of socialized medicine.  Explain again how death panels are a figment of the fertile imagination of the former governor of Alaska.

Read about Alfie today. Tomorrow read about Venezuela. Then let me know in the comments why anyone would vote for the Berniecrats in the next election. Alfie is what the Democrats want for your kids and grandkids.  Don't fool yourselves. Read their words, listen to their speeches.

It's time for lunch

For most of my life I have not dreamed, or I cannot remember them after I wake. For the past few weeks my nights have been filled with rapid-fire vignettes, like a permanent sketch comedy show playing in my skull.

Last night I dreamt I was back in school. I did not dream I was late for class, that I missed the big test, that I was naked and unable to open my locker. No, I dreamed I got mugged and missed lunch.

Psych majors all over the country will scratch their heads over that one.

Where have you gone Joe the Blogger-O?

It is clear I have lost what little blogging mojo I ever had.

Like Brenda said...

But the title is pretty clever, eh?  *

Well, at least compared to my usual efforts.

*try singing it

It is Tuesday and I ain't paying for that hamburger

Good morning fellow Earthlings. It looks to be a cool wet day here in Hoosierdom. April showers and such are on tap. I'm feeling better. Thanks for all of your cards and flowers.

In other news...yeah. I'm just burnt out on politics.

It seems those guys may have been loitering around in that Philly Starbucks for as much as 45 minutes without buying anything before being asked to beat it. Keep in mind the guys refused dto leave before the cops were called. They still refused to vacate even when the police asked. I smell a BLM stunt here.

What other restaurant would let people take up a table for 45 minutes and not order anything? It is not race, it is business.

Or maybe the Starbucks manager is a Grand Dragoon of the KKK. We will never know, because like everything in today's America it has to be political and racist and probably somehow Trump's fault.

The Cubs are back in The Mistake by the Lake for a rerun of the '16 Series tonight.

Have a great day.


PS to my Cleveland Indians fans -- I'm wearing my 2016 World Champion T-shirt today, well aware that we were one little rain delay from switching roles.

I would skip reading this post if I were you

It is possible this post will be less intelligent than usual.

I spent most of last night crapping my brains out.

Ba-boomp

12 hours of diarrhea can't be good. I think it is medicine related as opposed to food related. I ate nothing my wife did not also eat, plus there is no abdominal pain, just copious amounts of butt soup.

TMI? I venture the answer is a certain "YES".

Assuming I have not contracted a stray strain of cholera I will probably survive.

I'm afraid to fart though.

Gaia Goodness Glorified

Today is Earth Day.

I will celebrate by spraying chemicals on the weeds in my yard. It is an annual tradition.

Peeling back the layers of the onion

I write pretty much like I talk. Slowly. Hah! No seriously, my writing and speaking styles are similar. I think that is why I have always written posts and letters and even term papers fairly quickly.

Back in the day I would research term papers, read the sources, make notes of pertinent facts and quotes I wanted to use. Then I sat down and generally wrote the entire effort in one sitting. I could compose a ten or even twenty page paper in this fashion. I could often outpace my typist (my girlfriend / now wife would type for me).

I think this is one reason my pathetic attempts at fiction have been so lame. I can get a good start, but the mental challenge of writing an entire short story or novel in my head is too much. I'm just not that smart.

I'm always fascinated by the creative process. In honesty, most of my blog posts take anywhere from ten minutes to thirty to compose (I know, you can tell). A good chunk of that time  is deciding what to write about. I have discussed this with my musician son. What comes first for him, the melody or he lyrics? For him it is either, or, and both. Sometimes he will get a cord progression, or musical phrase. Other times it may be a lyric. Sometimes a bit of melody is the foundation.

Often my posts work a little better if I read them out loud. Yesterday's musings are a good example. I hear the Animal House cast chanting "Toga, Toga" when I read that. Take a slightly sarcastic tone coupled with a "south of 70" Hoosier accent* and slightly slow and even cadence and you could be me talking in my definitely not radio-ready voice. I guess you could call my style self-deprecating sarcasm covering an under-layer of indignant righteousness.  Long-time critic EOB labeled it as "smug". Yep.

I like to think of my musings as a conversation between us.  I started blogging because I worked alone in an office. There was no one to talk to. My boss and support was in Italy. I needed an outlet for my jokes, anecdotes, and political rants. I still work alone, now from a spare bedroom. I still need an outlet for my stories, jokes, and outraged rants.

I'm glad we have a chance to talk.



*that same accent can be found south of 70 in Ohio and Illinois too. It is strange I have it since I grew up in north central Indiana far from I-70. My brother and parents don't have it. Go figure. Linguists are right, we learn speech from our peers, not our home environment.

The conversation in my head

Yesterday was the first time I failed to mark the anniversary of the beginning of the Revolutionary War at the old blog.

OK, that may or not be true, the first time I failed to mention part, not the anniversary part. Frankly, I'm too lazy to go back through 37 years of archives to check the veracity of the statement. Let's just stipulate that it is true -- the first time omission part.

Are you as confused as I am right now?

I will comment that the sole purpose of the British incursion into the Massachusetts hinterlands was to seize a cache of arms. In other words, to confiscate guns. See how that worked out?

What? Look it up. Do you think the Lobsterbacks were just out for a stroll in the countryside? Have I ever led you astray?

That was a rhetorical question. I don't need your long lists of proof for every time I was wrong. Or even your short lists. My wife already keeps tabs. Not of blog wrongs, real wrongs. I admit to none. That is how I roll, to trot out a phrase that certifies me as an old geezer and out of touch. Whassup? Thirty-eight skeedoo. Like, far out, man. Groovy. Toga, toga.

I tell you now, I'm this far into this nonsense post and I have no title, nor any idea what the purpose of the post really is. The truth is I'm bored with the blog. I'm bored with my job. I'm bored with politics. I'm bored with life.

I probably just need some nooky.

This post is example 154 of why subscribing to this blog is worth every cent of the purchase price. No refunds. No exchanges. Do not spindle, fold, or mutilate your receipt. All items must retain original packaging or warranty is void.

Oh well, how about we all have a great Friday anyway?

Hangin' with Mr. Mitty

It occurs to me, and not for the first time, that my real life would make a for a great blog. The fiction that is here, well, no one's life is that mundane.

If only you knew...

I thought you was dead.

Not hardly. So says the Duke in my favorite western. Me neither. I'm not dead. I haven't abandoned the old blogeroo. I was not on vacation. I just did not post anything. I had nothing to say.

"But Joe", you say, "that never stopped you before".

Indeed.

I made quick business trip to Oh-hi-ya this week. Ah, life on the road. I stayed in a hotel motel straight out of 1978. The office was separate from the buildings that held the rooms. My room was on the second floor up an outside iron staircase and off an open walkway fronting he parking lot. The interior was dark and decorated in 1990s vintage motel furniture. The TV was new. The window heater was loud. The free continental breakfast was pre-packaged sweet rolls from Sam's Club. The room was exceptionally clean.

News has been going on. Weather happened.

I clearly had no blog fodder for today either.

Enjoy your Wednesday.

A bunch of words about nothing and I don't mean in a good Seinfeld way

The weather yesterday was glorious, albeit a little windy. I took the granddaughter down to a little park to climb and play. Afterward, we played ball, bubbles, and sidewalk chalk. She had the most fun whacking stuff with a stick she found lying on the ground.

We had two days in a row that topped 70 for the first time since last October. That was just what was needed to finally kickstart spring. Leaves are breaking out on the big willow and the maples. Today's rain will help, especially of it is steady and soaking. I will probably have to mow next week. I noticed a few dandelions popping out in yellow glory. Since my neighbors on both sides refuse to treat their lawns, I fight a summer-long battle against weeds.

Last year I chose to do stuff besides the heavy yard work on the weekends; namely hang out at our friend's pool. That  means the backyard needs serious work this year, including a dump truck of mulch, fence painting, pruning, planting, and general landscaping. All it takes is time, effort, and cash. On the other hand my buddy is probably going to open his heated pool in mid-May...

Triskaidekaphobia

I don't usually subscribe to superstitions, other than always putting on left sock, left shoe, right sock, right shoe (and that is no superstition but rather a prudent policy). That said, the failure of my employer to deposit my pay as scheduled today is par for Friday the 13th and the notion that bad stuff happens on this day.

Complicit

This post says it all.

No further editorial comment from me is needed.

Boy was 13 year-old me disappointed to discover that a pussy willow was just a tree

Real spring-like weather is xpected for the next day or two -- 70s and windy. Don't worry snow is back in the forecast for early next week.

I read a great line this morning. I can't remember which article, but it sums it up pretty well. I will paraphrase: the average progressive just cannot accept that half of America so hates progressive politics and policies that they were willing to vote for Donald Trump.

Yep.

I think the left has finally found a President they hate more than Nixon. And like Nixon, Trump will probably provide not only tne ammunition to his downfall, but the weapon too; cocked and loaded. Trump is of the philosophy that any publicity is good publicity. He doesn't understand the concept of death by a thousand cuts.

And I clearly love mixed metaphors. But you get the point.

Sorry Dear

Not right now, I have a headache. A massive headache.

You will have to get your jollies elsewhere.

Reality sucks

Once again the grass and trees are covered in postcard-worthy snow. It is both beautiful and disgusting. It is April, for goodness sake. We have had more snow since spring officially arrived than all the months of winter combined.

Another boring weekend is past us and it is back to the grind.

News-wise I read the same old crap. The Trumpster has to go because he did something maybe that is probably worse than anything anyone could have done... evah. That is the Democrat/media position. Me, I think all this trade war talk and proposal is a sure way to put the brakes to a steaming economy.

Look, some of that overseas manufacturing left here a long time ago. There is not enough capacity here for many of those products. Tariffs mean steep price increases for you and me. Second, in some cases there isn't capacity at all.  For instance a TV hasn't been made in the States for years. One doesn't just open a new plant. You need experts: tool makers, engineers, maintenance guys. It would take three or four years to start up production form scratch.

Look, China doesn't need most of our manufactured goods. They can build it cheaper, and sorry to say it, as well or almost as well as we can do it ourselves. My last visit to a Chinese widget maker showed me a highly automated, state-of-the-art manufacturing plant more modern than anything I have visited here in the States. Yes, I know anecdote is not data.

We can make T-shirts in the US. Are you prepared to drop $30 or $40 for that cheap cotton polyester blend shirt at WalMart? As consumers we cannot have it both ways.

There is a significant and powerful manufacturing sector on this country. Ask anyone involved in manufacturing and they will tell you getting good and reliable workers is the challenge. Employers want employees who show up for work, who work hard, and can pass a drug test. Far too often those three attributes are difficult to find.

Trump claims we cannot loose in a trade war. We can lose if China dumps their massive load of T-bills onto the market.

At least the coffee is hot

All things considered, I would rather be someplace tropical, cold beer or Mai tai in hand, gazing at a pool or beach.

Your Governmental Overlords Know Best

So,  Deerfield, IL has decided to ban so-called assault rifles. They have demanded owners turn them in for confiscation or face a $1,000 per day fine.

Leaving the Second Amendment issues aside for now, how does the village plan to take private property from citizens without due compensation? Is this not a.violation of the Takings Clause? It appears the lawyers for the village are ignorant of both the Second and Fifth Amendments.

How will the jackbooted thugs tasked with carrying out the law know which citizen has these scary plastic guns anyway? Are the authorities planning house to house searches? That brings up a Fourth Amendment issue.

The Village might as well go all in. Why not station a policeman in every private house and then forbid citizens from speaking out in protest? Then they can violate five amendments in one fell swoop.

I remember reading about an April day in our past when the civil authorities set out to confiscate some guns. It was April 18, 1775. That event was the key catalyst for including he Second Amendment in the Bill of Rights.

No matter where you stand on the issue of guns you have to see this as a vast governmental overreach.  I am glad Deerfield Village is a fairly affluent suburb, I have driven through it many times, because the taxpayers are going to wrack up some serious legal bills as this is fought all the way to the Supreme Court over the next several years.

My WTH Wednesday

My wife looked at my rapidly graying hair last night and told me that I'm sure looking old. How is that for a confidence booster?

I lost at Candyland to a 3 year old yesterday.

Later, an old lady yelled at me at Kroger. Really. I walked in the front doors to the little " lobby" or vestibule area where they keep carts, small displays, gum machines, and the like. There was an abandoned cart sitting here that someone had left as they exited the store. I started to push it in the doors when an old lady grabbed me from behind and shouted that was her cart. Ok. I bit my tongue and walked two feet to where the carts were pushed together and grabbed another one.  It is bad enough she freaked out, but she actually...touched me. I'm getting old. A decade ago if someone grabbed me from behind, I would have turned with a flying elbow and asked questions later. I'm glad I didn't take out a seventy year old lady over a shopping cart. I'm shocked anyone would grab you because you touched the cart they wanted.

I did have beef and noodles with mashed spuds for supper. That is my favorite meal, so the day wasn't a total loss.

Did I mention I lost at Candyland to a three year old? Sigh.

Snide and Sarcastic Snark for beginners

Monday's heavy snow and Tuesday's heavy rain have been replaced by strong gusty winds. I guess these weather extremes indicate we are all going to die due to Weather! Climate Change! Even though it has been warmer and colder before.

The "unprecedented" melting of the Arctic last summer uncovered an old fishing settlement hundreds of years old. The huts were built centuries before Karl Benz or Elwood Haynes slapped a gas engine into a carriage. Humans were drying fish on racks near the ice-free Arctic Circle more than a half a millenia before the Industrial Revolution. Draw your own conclusion.

In other news a crazed shooter shot up YouTube. It is imperative we ban something and restrict access to more stuff in the name of safety. This murderous woman broke eleventy-seven laws, both state and federal, so only by adding more laws could she have been stopped.

My coffee mug is nearly empty. My reservoir of snark is not. For both our sake, I think I will address the coffee situation and save the snide opinion for another day.

You are welcome.

I think the intern over at Ma Nature, Inc. is running stuff this week

Yesterday morning we woke to 3 inches or so of snow. The granddaughter and my wife went out and built a snowman.

In the wee hours of this morning either a pervert was taking flash photos through my blinds or else thunderstorms and lightning rumbled through the neighborhood.  There is a threat of tornado activity this afternoon.

Don't worry, more snow is in the forecast for Wednesday.

My blog may be boring and my life devoid of thrills, but there is always the weather to provide something to write about. Aren't you thrilled?

Entertaining the troops for twenty-seven years

Several inches of heavy wet snow covers the ground. The trees look like something out of a winter postcard; a Hollywood version of snow covered trees. The bright spot is that the drive and sidewalk remain snow-free. Still, it is April. Come on Ma Nature!

Easter dinner came out pretty good. The boy had to cut the ham, I did not want to touch any food with my nasty hands. We have a bunch of ham left. I kept some in te fridge and froze two other packages. I don't know what I will do with it, but I have it when I need it. If I was nice, I would make the wife ham and beans,

I loathe ham and beans. I won't eat them. I dislike beans in general.

I have a week of work to get to. Enjoy your Monday.

And not one canned post the whole time

So last week I spent a bunch of hotel points and took my wife to a nice Hilton resort down in the Sunshine State. I used up some gas points too, so we got a week's vacation for a few hundred bucks. We did nothing beyond relax in the sun poolside. We ate out for dinner. I finished one book that I started before we left and finished two more. I am halfway through yet another. So, yeah, sitting poolside, in the sun, sipping beer, surreptitiously looking at the young moms in bikinis, while reading a good book, made for a perfect relaxing vacation.

I managed to get a decent tan base without a sunburn.

I also got...something. About Tuesday I noticed a few bumps popping up on the back of my hand. By Wednesday the hives were on both hands. Thursday saw both hands and my lower arms covered in itchy hives. If I didn't know better, I would swear I was rubbed by poison oak or something. The back of my hands look like one of those nasty bumpy gourds you see in the fall. I've always been prone to allergic reactions. Hives are nothing new, but I have never been afflicted for so long and that makes me think I have some kind of rash instead of an allergic reaction. I just don't know where I got it or why the wife wasn't afflicted too.

At this point I don't think it is an allergic reaction.  Hives do not last this long.

If it is not better by tomorrow, and I have no reason to think it will be since the bumps are not going down and the itching has not ceased or abated even a little (despite generous amounts of cortisone cream), I will have to saunter off to the doctor.

He has Risen

Happy Easter. Take a minute, if you are the Christian faith, to remember the day is not just about egg hunts or bunnies.

Two thirds of the kids and their families ( the oldest lives in Colorado) are coming over for dinner. Nothing says celebration for the world's most famous Jew than cooking a ham.

As an April Fools prank we are expecting snow this evening. Touché, Mother Nature.

Just like Christmas, only without presents, or Santa, or ...

It is opening day! The long winter between football and baseball is finally over!

I must use exclamation points! It is a law!

It is time to get the greatest tune into your skull:

I guess he really did vault those lazy dogs

The boy reports he was sitting on the patio last night smoking his cancer sticks and minding his business. He looked up and there stood a large red fox staring at him, about 10 feet away. The boy jumped and the fox did too, both thinking "What is he doing here?".

You might not think this so very strange, the 'burbs are populated by wildlife -- coyotes, coons, opossums, deer, chipmunks, and such. The neighbors reported a fox a few times last fall. What is unusual is that my backyard is surrounded by a 6' tall privacy fence. The boy said he wondered how the beast got in, only to get his question answered. He watched the fox turn and with a quick burst of speed the fox jumped the fence easily.

Now the boy is worried about letting his little corgi out in the night.

Whatever he says -- do the opposite

Is there anything more hilarious than Jimmah Carter giving out foreign policy advice? For those of you too young to remember look up 1979 and Iran.

Carter giving recommendations is akin to the guy who built that bridge that collapsed down in Miami telling you how to go about assembling a shed in your backyard.

Wake up Thalia, I've got blogging to do

Here we are on a cloudy Monday morning. The coffee is hot, my muse is still snuggled under the covers, snoring gently.  Clio, Thalia? Are you awake?

Oh well.

There was a big anti-Constitution march over the weekend. I guess it as good thing the Second Children's Crusade was targeting the Second Amendment instead of the First one.

Basketball happened. I guess hockey too. There was weather. Ive been waching old reruns of Miami Vice. I do not think that drama was too realistic.

Muses, wake up! Sigh. Sorry, maybe later.

Have a good Monday anyway.

Not everyone was a hippie in the 60s

Here is a rerun from 2012. memories of summer days can help hide my disgust over this early spring spate of winter? Besides, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic:

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 day.

The answer is blowing' in the wind

SnowTeam ScareTeam is on RedAlert as a big snow storm bears down on the environs. As of now we may or may not get 2-5 inches of snow. Yesterday they were predicting as much as 8". By the time the storm arrives -- it is already late -- we may be down to a dusting. We also might get the hammering they expect. Who knows? In any case, I have bread, milk, and eggs. We are set.

Vroom, vroom

I had a 2018 Camaro for my rental car yesterday.  It was a pleasure to drive. It handled well and drove great in the city and on the highway. Gas milage was good. The car was remarkably comfortable and roomy inside. It sat low, so mounting and dismounting was not like jumping into the Wife's Escape. It had more than just a little bit of get-up-and-go.

5983

Here I am, up at 4:30 in the aye em yet again.  You don't care about that.

The GOPe just went on yet another spending spree. I guess we're living in the Bush years again. It seems every time the Stupid Party gets in charge they try to outspend the Democrats. It is working, if that was your strategy. We might as well vote for the Democrats in the mid-terms, at least they are honest about their intention to spend my money and your money and our great-grandkid's money. I suspect you don't care about that either. I'm tired of ranting about it.

Let's discuss even less interesting stuff. I forgot to point out that yesterday marked  13 years of blogging here at Fat in Indiana. I wrote my first mediocre post on March 22, 2005 and 5982 posts later we have this mediocre one. Some things do not change. That comes out to an average of...I don't know, probably pretty close to one a day.  I'm not a math whiz.  More to the point, it doesn't matter. I write the drivel. You read the drivel. We have our roles to play.

It seems I have an attitude problem today. Sorry 'bout that.

Seriously, thank you to all of you for stopping by. You have no idea what it means to me.

I’ve been missing you

One of my big customers has a new buyer, so I’m off to introduce myself to him this afternoon. Ho hum, but I am looking forward to getting out of the office. When I took this gig I had no idea I would be driving a desk 99% of the time.  I miss the road. 

I don’t miss being gone from my family, but I do miss the highways, the small towns, the old favorite restaurants in my frequent stopping places. I miss going into a new town and finding the best place to get a burger. I even miss the crappy hotel breakfasts. That last sentence was a lie. I miss picking up snippets of local radio, only to have them fade in a half hour as I drive away from the tower. I miss the audiobooks and podcasts over Bluetooth to the radio. I miss listening to ball games as I motor through the Midwest and southeast. 

Mostly, I miss the hotel and airline points. 

Prevaricate

I’m a liar, or at least someone is. I reported the start of spring yesterday. I woke up to light seeping in through the closed blinds this morning. At first I thought I might have overslept. Alas, the brightness was light reflecting from snow covering the ground. Beautiful thick layers of snow blankets trees, shrubs, streets, grass — everywhere. It would be a perfect Christmas postcard. Too bad it is March. A couple of inches of ugly nasty snow. There is probably even snow on that sentence fragment. What the heck, Mother Nature? It is supposed to keep snowing until mid-morning and then it will warm into the 40s this afternoon. I have nowhere to go this morning, the granddaughter is not coming today, so I think I will skip the shoveling of the drive and walks and let Ma Nature melt it off.  She caused the mess, she can clean it up.

finally

We have been waiting for months. It is here.

Rain, freezing rain, sleet, and snow are in today’s local forecast. I guess Mother Nature forgot to check her calendar.

gears a-turning in my head

I should have kept one of the posts I combined yesterday and canned it for today. Here we are on a Monday morning and I should be cramming instead of blogging.  I have just a few hours to learn all I can about shaft couplers. I’m off to do some homework.

Sunday Morning deserves a really good title. I hope someone uses one on their blog

I pre-wrote a Sunday post Saturday. It will go up in a bit, at a completely arbitrary time I pre-entered. That is unless I stop it and post this instead. Or I might can this one. Confused? Me too (and not in the hashtag* way).

I woke up around 3 AM and catnapped until 5:00 or so when I got up. I’ve been surfing the web since then, drinking coffee and listening to music quietly. I am enjoying the Amazon Prime 60s rock station this morning. There is a little too much Hendrix for my taste, but he goes away with a simple “Alexa, skip”.

Here is a heresy for you: I think Jimmy Hendrix is remarkably overrated. There, I said it. I will admit his version of  All Along The Watchtower is far superior to Robert Allen Zimmerman’s. You know — Bob Dylan. Who, by the way, is another overrated icon from the sixties. Yep, I just wrote that. I expect the Rock and Roll god will strike me down with a bolt of lightning shot from the tip of that ugly-assed pyramid in Cleveland. I don’t hate either musician. I have select tunes from both on my iPhone. They are nowhere near the top of my list of loathed artists such as Steve Miller. I will turn off The Joker as soon as the first notes sear my eardrums.

It is OK if you want to be wrong and disagree with me. I have eclectic taste in music. What I like probably isn’t your cup of tea.  My wife and son both really hate The Doors.

Here is a tune I can dig:

From the original 60’s lineup of Fleetwood Mac, long before Lindsey and Stevie turned them into a pop powerhouse.

I like both iterations of the band: the blues driven, and the rock pop version.

Just to update you on the status of things, I took the canned Sunday post and merged it with the fresh one to give you a semi-fresh version. Think of it as the equivalent of making homemade salsa with canned ‘maters.

I think I have wasted enough of both of our time (times?)** on this Sunday. Have a great day.


* when did “#” quit being called a pound sign or more accurately, the octothorp?

** I don’t think either is correct — the sentence is just awkward but you probably get the general meaning and I would rather waste time writing a pointless post script that rewriting the sentence. I’m stubborn like that.

A minute here, a minute there, and you have a whole different sport

I’m trying hard not to curse these days, but what the hell, baseball? This is perhaps the stupidest idea in sports. I do not understand this obsession with shaving minutes from the game of baseball. MLB could save that same two or four minutes by cutting a couple of commercial breaks*. If they want to shorten the game, get rid of the odious designated hitter rule. Pitchers strike out more often than position players and hitting specialists. Starting extra innings with a runner on second is an abomination.

Baseball’s charm has always been its idiosyncrasies. The defense possesses the ball. There is no time clock. There is no sudden death overtime. Why do we need to change it? How about, in the name of speed, we just make the game into home run derby. Every guy gets two pitches to hit the ball, fail and you are out. Use a pitching machine to guarantee strikes. We could blow through nine innings in about an hour.

We have all been stuck working late. There is nothing more disappointing than to have the boss show up and tell you you have to put in some extra hours. Too bad baseball. Extra inning games are memorable. Imagine the 2016 World Series with this idiotic “ start the extra innings with a runner on second” rule. Why not start the 10th and subsequent innings with bases loaded and two outs? The next hit wins. Poof extra inning games are over in a flash.

Spit. I did not possess the vocabulary to adequately express my disdain.

* extra innings mean more commercial breaks, thus more money, so why cut the length of games?

H/t Dustbury

You have four days to get it together Mother Nature

Yesterday looked great: bright sun in a cloudless sky, little wind. Temperatures creeped into the low 50s. I made some macaroni salad, microwaved a can of baked beans and threw some burgers on my decrepit grill for supper.  I doubled down later in the evening by pulling out the freezer and made some homemade ice cream. Even if spring is slow to arrive I’m going to act like it is here.

There is snow in the forecast for next week. Sigh.

And that is how you do it

Good morn...wait, I just realized my coffee cup is empty...

Fixed.

Good Morning. It is yet another chilly start to the day here in flyover country. It is probably no less than we deserve as backward, despicable, hate-filled rubes. I did score a pizza for $3.14 for supper last night, so all is not beyond hope around here.

If you stopped by for meaningful commentary I’m am sorry to tell you that you are going to be a bit disappointed this morning.

But I did post something. There is that.

living In the past

I’m sure you have already read about it, but isn’t it ironic that Hillary blames her whole election loss to people who are always looking backwards and living in the past.  Her comments were rehashing an election she lost two years ago.

Who is living in the past?  Who refuses to look forward?

When is Clinton going away? She was measured and weighed by the American people and she was found wanting. Seriously, I think we would be better off if she spent more time studying the bottom of her Chardonnay glass and less time trashing the American people while overseas.  Maybe Mrs. Clinton should look to her own words when reflecting on the last election — “What does it matter now?”.

Oh, we won't give in, we'll keep living in the past

Oh, we won't give in, let's go living in the past

Oh no, no, we won't give in, let's go living in the past 

it has something to do with the circumference and the diameter, I think

I have to go with apricot first, with peach a close second. I’m pretty fond of sugar cream. Apple ranks high on the list too. Key lime rounds out the top five. Pecan gets honorable mention.

I like any kind of pie, especially on pi day.

It is all about number 10

I have to be honest, I don’t really have my panties all in a wad because Florida decided to insist you have to be 21 to buy a gun. Mostly because it is Florida and I don’t live there. If the voters in Florida don’t like the new law they can simply elect different people to vote differently. It is really that simple.

I could be wrong on this position and maybe you will tell me why in the comments.

Contrary to popular misconception, the thing was not set up to be fifty (or 13) administrative districts carrying out the Big Government policies. It really was supposed to be the other way around; you know — a group of States united together. That was the plan. There was never any intention every State had to be the same.  Too bad they do not teach civics in school anymore. If I could go back in time and suggest a change, it would be that Amendment Ten would have been listed as number One.

Annual Boot to the Crotch Day

I woke up at 4:00 this morning. The wife must have been sleeping mouth agape: her CPAP sounded like a wind tunnel. I shouldn’t blame her though. I woke up because that is what I do. I read this morning that getting sleepy during the day may be an early sign of Alzheimer’s. It may also be a sign I’m only getting four or five hours of sleep at night and I need more. Take that science. What was I talking about?

I cooked up some smoked sausage in the grill pan and made a batch of homemade mac and cheese for supper last night. Since I was up early I thought a little of that leftover sausage would be good with a biscuit left from Sunday’s fried chicken dinner. Alas, it appears the boy ate the rest of the sausage sometime after I went to bed [insert sigh]. My loverly wife isn’t too fond of smoked sausage, so I only get it once or twice a year. I was kinda looking forward to the leftovers. Oh well, such circumstances are not major problems. Plus, I told him the leftovers were there. He also ate the rest of Sunday’s chicken. That boy has always liked his protein.

Here is my summary of the politics of the day. Republicans in the House say the evil Russkies probably tried to screw with the election but the Trumpster had nothing to do with it. The Democrats say that is because we didn’t find a way to force anyone to admit to it. I suspect both Hillary and the Trumpster looked for dirt on the other candidate no matter the source, whether that was the Commies or the Brits or anyone else. It is politics.

I suspect the Russians took delight in trying to screw with our election. Do you think we don’t do the same all over the world? Do you really think the good old white-hatted US of A would not do everything possible to help a candidate that ran against Putin? Some of you hand-wringing about mythical KGB agents working the polls are the very people saying the Government should help those poor souls protesting in Tehran a few months ago. The Obama actively campaigned in the last Israeli elections. Grow up.

I think there should be one day a year where every elected official receives a kick in the crotch from an NFL punter wearing steel-toed boots, just to remind them they are public servants. Maybe if occasional pain is involved some of the more asshole-types would forgo inflicting themselves on the  public. Ah hell, forget that idea, too many of the bastards would enjoy it.

i don’t know who you are

Anonymous said...I don't even know how I ended up here, but I thought this post was great. I don't know who you are but definitely you're going to a famous blogger if you aren't already ;) Cheers!

I received this comment Sunday on a post from December of 2014.  Since all of 23 people read my Sunday effort, I suspect my fame has not spread far and wide.

Maybe tomorrow.

The spam was innocuous enough that I let it pass and hit publish. When I famous that guy or gal will be able to point to that post and exclaim “I called it!”.

How to win the office basketball pool

Back when I worked with real people in a real office today would be a real time-waster. Even though I have little interest in college basketball it would dominate conversation. The big office pool would be starting up. Everyone would be filling in brackets instead of entering orders, creating production plans, placing purchase orders, or reviewing engineering drawings. The morning coffee break would stretch past the allotted ten minutes and cross-cubicle kibitzing would increase. This is all before the first game is played.

It is no wonder I was surprised at my work output when I first moved into a solo office. I did more in four hours than I used to do in eight. Conversations with yourself tend to be short and to the point. There are no guys to meet down at the break room at 10:00. I confess I do miss vending machine coffee. There is no sarcasm there, I like vending machine coffee. Sometimes I miss the camaraderie of working in an office, of being part of the whole.

So get after those basketball brackets this morning. I feel for you. I threw my buck into the pot and I feel pretty confident I will recoup my investment when the tournament is done. After all, when you are the only guy in the office pool your chances of winning are pretty good.

A miracle drug

Oft times I have utilized exaggeration and hyperbole for entertainment purposes.

Oh

Yes, reader, it is true.

Say it ain’t so, Joe.

Today it is not the case. Today, I am going to tell you about a miracle. I have ugly feet. My heels are narrow and have spurs that make breaking in new shoes painful. The arches are high, the toes very flat. I’m missing a couple of toenails. The skin is dry and heavily callused and often cracked, rough, and sometimes bleeding from dryness.

Ummm, sexy

Many diabetics have dry skin. My heels are so rough I have occasionally torn holes into the heels of socks. No lie. I have tried a variety of creams and lotions with limited success. Today, my friends, I’m going to tell you about a cure that has provided dry skin relief in just a couple of days. I’m not healed, but my footsies are no longer ripping holes in the wife’s good sheets.

Tell us already

I switched doctors a year or so ago and this guy is competent and efficient. If your appointment is for 8:30, you are in the exam room by 8:33. I never have to play iPhone euchre in the waiting room. In the course of a foot exam he tells me that he could prescribe some expensive meds that would help with the rhino-like skin on my heels. He said they are expensive but that Crisco works just as well.

Did you just say Crisco?

That was my reaction too! Crisco? Yep, it seems vegetable shortening is close to your own natural oils. So far, it seems to work as well as the stuff from the drug store. BTW, I bought a different can of shortening to use for cooking.  No one wants foot-flavored pie crust. I just slather some on before bed and pull on some socks.

Anyway, my feet are not healed, but they are softer and less cracked after just a couple of days.

I just can’t figure out why I keep craving fried chicken.

That time again

A 1,319 word rant on the idiocy know as “Daylight Savings Time” was elinated.

Hey You Guys...

Like every other blogger,  my readership has dropped significantly. Blogging is an old dinosaur, the cool kids are on instagram and Facebook and Twitter and whatever platform the kids have moved to in order to hide their quest for fame from their parents. I also take a significant share of responsibility.  To paraphrase the movie line, if you write it they will come. One has to have interesting and compelling content. Still, my daily hits are down by about half over the past week or so. Is it me? Are you on spring break? Have I offended you?

I don’t expect an answer. If you aren’t reading this you won’t know I asked you a question. If you are reading, then it doesn’t apply. I don’t want you readers to tell me I boring, can’t spell, lack coherent arguments, and that my grammar is awful, my writing atrocious.

It is very likely you are as bored with my efforts as I am.

I could tell you about the light bulb that blew apart in my office ceiling fan this morning. I have to figure out how to get the carcass out of the socket later. I suspect that is not riveting content.

Oh well. I am coming up on my 197th  blogversary later this month. I’ll likely keep at it until I am back where every hit was me checking to see if anyone read my crap, or I die from boredom. Either scenario could play out in the next months.

Boo boo poor me.

News you can use

No, relax. Once more the title of the post has nothing to do with content. You should know that by now.

I went to the doctor this morning. He was happy. My blood sugars have continued to drop. My A1C is back below 7. I will yet again avoid insulin. Yay for me. Of course, I was left with the admonition to “do better”.  While I was there I got an updated tetanus shot, the first since I was probably in my teens. I feel like I was punched in the shoulder. I also had blood drawn for various labs. My cholesterol has been good so I don’t expect any change there.

My drivers license is due for renewal this month. I don’t anticipate any issues with the vision test since my surgeries, but I’m going in early just to be safe.

I’m not sure what the cruise director has planned for our weekend social activities. I’m sure she will tell me when it is time to get in the car.

That’s it for now.

I bet you are glad you checked in for this post.

Have a great Friday.

Let’s all go to the lobby...

I’m doing stuff today.

How about a musical interlude? Ron Wood again proves he is the best guitarist in the band.

Strange Brew

it is snowing. The ground is covered with a thin layer. The streets are just wet. Oh Spring, you are bi-polar indeed. The snow is supposed to taper off at any time. We will be left with wind, cold, and clouds. At least the neighbor’s Christmas lights will look festive in the snow.

I am staring at the danged cursor. It is mocking me with its steady pulse. When I started this post I had a list of stuff to write about in my head. I made the comment about the inconsequential snowfall and now the rest of my thoughts have melted away like March snowflakes on the potholed pavement.  WTH brain?

Perhaps it will come back to me later. There is no rule limiting me to one post a day.  You may think there should be, but so far I can spread my nonsense with impunity.

Enjoy your Wednesday.

Episode 137, Joe is right yet again

I called it yesterday.  A 20 year old sues WalMart  and Dick’s for discrimination because they denied him the right to buy a rifle. I can spot lawyer-bait a mile away. I predict a class action suit by the end of the week as the grab a buck bandwagon fills up.

Random Rantings

So, WalMart has decided they won’t sell you a gun if you are under 21, despite your Constitutional right to have one and the fact you have met every legal requirement of your State. What is the difference between that situation and a person who refuses to bake your wedding cake? Is it not a different form of discrimination? Of course I think that if WalMart wants to have an age-limited gun policy that is their right. Similarly, I think if a bakery wants a no-gay wedding cake policy, that is acceptable too. Let the invisible hand deal with it, not the government’s iron fist.

One of the main secondary roads into the suburb where I live narrows down to two lanes and for a mile or so traverses a tree-lined area. One side is old and second growth forest. The other shows a bare glimpse of houses cut into the trees. I’m talking real estate that can only be purchased by people making six figure incomes and where the first number in those six figures isn’t a one.

Traffic in this area can be brutal and major expansion of the main arteries is in the works. That means the alternative routes have to be prepared for the upcoming increase in traffic. Bulldozers are out ripping up the trees to widen the road and install yet more traffic circles in an effort to reduce rush hour traffic. I know the road needs widening. It still makes me sick to see the trees torn out.

I also hate sitting through three cycles of the traffic light just to get through the intersection. Sigh.

The streak is intact. I still have never watched an Oscars broadcast. In no way do I feel like my life is incomplete because of it.

It is Monday, work beckons.

Have a great day.

have you ever heard a whippoorwill?

The past couple of weeks have been a hodgepodge, weather-wise, in these parts. Mostly it has been typical early spring, warm and cold, often on the same day. Thursday saw temperatures drop nearly 30 degrees during the day. Last week’s warm weather brought a couple of inches of rain and more fell Wednesday. Suddenly, the spring flowers; the tulips and daffodils, are poking some tentative green shoots from the flower beds. The brown grass is taking on a definite greenish tint. We are not in a full-blown spring, but it is just around the corner. Mother Nature works diligently to her calendar, heedless of the everyday feeble activities of man. I would not be surprised to see snow again in the coming weeks, nor temperatures pushing into the mid-seventies. It is the way things are around here.

I hope you didn’t come by looking for meaningful Saturday content. I fear you will click away sadly disappointed. I’m sure you will get over it.

Try to have a good Saturday anyway.

Sarcasm, lots of sarcasm

WTH Trump? The economy is going great, so let’s slam on the brakes with a huge tariff on steel?

Couple that with a proposal to ignore the Constitution by taking away someone’s guns and letting the courts “sort it out later”, and you have the makings of a true autocrat. Maybe we should just round up folks we deem a threat because of race or religion and let the courts settle it later? Whoops we did that, that great man of the people FDR did it to Japanese Americans. How did that work out? Maybe those who think this is a good idea won’t mind if Trump daily rounds up the protesters outside of the White House, tosses them in jail, and waits until the “courts sort it out later”?

In other news, the White House Communications  Director says she sometimes tells “white lies”. No, you are kidding me? A press agent spins the truth? I’m shocked and appalled. She was forced to resign. Trump better hope the next person in the job also has no qualms about fibbing. He won’t like the unvarnished truth being spread.  No politician would. Remember Obama’s “blame it on the video” prevarication?

I see teens have moved on from eating Tide pods. Now they are seeing how long they can leave their arm on a hot stove burner. Yes, we should listen to this generation when it comes to our Constitutional rights; they are the future.

Young people are tired of being afraid of guns, tired of seeing their classmates shot. I can understand that. Sixty-four percent of road accidents in this country involve a cell phone. Maybe we should focus on that as a threat to society instead of one particular brand of rifle that is used less often in murders than common hand tools or knives?

It is a new world

Starting Sunday Hoosiers will be able to buy carry-out beer, wine, and liquor at grocery, convenience, and liquor stores on a Sunday for the first time in 202 years. You read that right, Sunday alcohol sales had been banned as long as Indiana has been a state. You can only get cold beer at a liquor store though. I’m not sure why we still regulate by temperature. One thing at a time.

I would have cared a lot more about this change a few decades ago. Since I drink about six beers a month now, it really won’t change my life.

You still cannot buy a car on Sunday.

In one aspect, we have modernized anyway.