Insurance

Larry’s barn burned down and his wife, Susan called the insurance company.

Susan spoke to the insurance agent and said, “We had that barn insured for fifty thousand dollars, and I want my money.”

The agent replied, “Whoa there, just a minute. Insurance doesn’t work quite like that. An independent adjuster will assess the value of what was insured, and then we’ll provide you with a new barn of similar worth.”

There was a long pause, and then Susan replied, “If that’s how it works, then I want to cancel the life insurance policy on my husband.”

Goose gander

If Trump is responsible for the current riots and unrest, then isn’t it clear that Obama and Biden were responsible for the riots and unrest following Ferguson? 

Sleepy Joe needs to answer this question.

Be nice to the people who can spit in your food

This Sunday dawns bright and clear. It looks to be a gorgeous day. I will be cooped inside working my part-time hours at the big box. If you have never had the “pleasure”, retail is a real lesson in sociology. In short, some people are just jerks. The store where I work is situated on the edge of an old blue color town and the affluent suburbs of Indy that have expanded northward. Thus, I get the gamut from white trash to wealthy suburbanite. Usually, the white trash is nicer. I’ve been whistled for like a dog, given the “hey you” treatment, and berated because items aren’t in stock, usually by people who think of me as their domestic help. The good thing about required face masks is they cover the disdain I harbor for these rude people. 

The fact is most of the people I work with are good hard-working folk. They are retirees looking to supplement their income, people working second jobs, or young people starting out. Most want to do a good job. Few deserve the treatment that is heaped on them from a larger percent of the customers than you imagine. But I have to add that many interactions are with good, nice, and appreciative customers too; probably a majority fall in this category. It is the rude assholes that make the day long. There is a reason it’s called retail hell.

End of rant. I didn’t intend to go down that path when I started typing this morning. I had another topic in mind completely. That’s what happens when you click here, it is always, and I mean always, stream of consciousness. I might have a general idea of a topic, but I never plan or outline a post. If research is needed, I stop and do it. “Yes, Joe, we can tell”, is your likely response. So it goes. I might add, I rarely go back and edit beyond a hopeless and futile effort to fix spelling and grammar. 

If I wanted to be successful at this dying hobby I should probably work at it more. Think of it more as what you would get if we were to have a near daily conversation. Yeah, sadly this blog is a lot like talking to me direct with out my definitely not fit for radio voice. Sad ain’t it?

Have a great Saturday.

Make me smile

 

it is all about compartmentalism

It is probably a good thing it is another self-imposed no politics Friday, lest I write things I might regret at the up-coming hate crime show trials. 

I’m off to the doctor for my first in-person visit since winter and the pandemic early this morning. I hope is is a tad happier with me. I have tried hard to get my recalcitrant sugars into a manageable state the last few months. I admittedly was more than a little lax on my diet through much of the previous eight or nine months. I have proven to myself, and I hope to him, I really can manage with diet and a handful of pills every day. On the other hand, If I must go to the needle, then so it shall be. 

In other news, it may or may not rain. It doesn’t matter either way. 

I have a whole bunch of personal stuff I could cry about. I will spare you the details. It’s personal for a reason. We are going to have to make some very hard choices. None are pleasant or good or desirable. So it goes. No one ever said life was fair. Whining here won’t change anything.

You are welcome. 

It still can’t get used to the new blogger automatically double spacing when I hit “return”.

Anyway, have a great Friday.

Another one that will get me arrested for hate thoughts

Lynching, a form of violence in which a mob, under the pretext of administering justice without trial, executes a presumed offender, often after inflicting torture and corporal mutilation. The term lynch law refers to a self-constituted court that imposes sentence on a person without due process of law. Encyclopedia Britannica 

One of the most infamous symbols of racism and hate, according to reports, is the noose, since it represents the lynchings of Black People in the 19th and early 20th centuries.* 

LeBron and other NBA players refuse to play until there is justice for Jacob Blake and the police officer is held accountable. Do they not want an investigation? Do they just want to rush to judgement? Should we just go ahead and punish (or worse) the police officer?

Sounds a lot like a mob lynching to me.

*About 1/4 of lynchings from 1865 to 1941 were white people. Doesn’t make it right, but it wasn’t just a racist thing all of the time.

whole lotta nuthin’

It remains hot and most humid. I’m not the least surprised, it is still August. Rain was in the forecast as late as the eleven o’clock news. Now? Just clouds. If I were that bad at forecasting I would be unemployed. Oh wait. 

Never mind. 

I was told the granddaughter is sick and won’t be here this morning. I hear the wife doing her abolutions, plans must have changed. Yes, one of my few joys in life will be here soon.

In other news leftists are still burning and rioting. NBA players refuse to play. Ignorant jerks like me wonder what good that does? What do I know, I support neither anarchists nor Marxists, so I am a racist. Nor do I believe 1+2=5. I’m an old white male and have voted for exactly two Democrats in the last thirty years. Strike three on me.

The Cubs are fading fast. They are the Mario Andretti of the MLB. How in heck do you lose two out of three to the Tigers? Let me repeat: the Tigers. 

Sheesh.

How about against?

I read an article in Politico yesterday where left-learners lamented that the Republicans have no positions. They wondered what the Party stood for. Of course, everything the GOPers stood for was wrong, but they didn’t know what that was. 

I suppose we will learn this week what the Republican party’s agenda might be. In the meantime, I know what it does not stand for:

• Higher taxes
• More regulation 
• The Green New Deal
• More foreign oil
• Open borders
• Defunding police 
• More Chinese trade
• Reducing Second Amendment Rights
• Universal healthcare
• Reparations 
• Hate speech laws

The Democrats are in favor of these things and worse. Basically, if you think California and Oregon are the perfect societal models, you should vote Democrat. 

For me, this list is enough to vote for anyone without a (D) affiliation. Your opinion may vary. It will be wrong, but at least for now we are allowed to have differing opinions.

I’m not so sure after Kahhhhmelahhh stages her coup.

6827

 I intend to devote as much time watching the GOPers bloviate as I spent with the Jackass Party. Zip.

If you don’t want hurricane Marco to come ashore, quit shouting “Polo”.

The weekend was good,  yet for some reason I am in a crappy mood today. I’m sore, cranky, and half pissed off and I don’t know why. My inability to come up with a title to this lousy post ticks me off.

I hope you have a great day. I clearly have made other plans.

The Devil went to Church

 Satan appeared before a small town congregation. Everyone started screaming and running for the front church door, trampling each other in a frantic effort to get away.

Soon everyone was gone except for an elderly gentleman who sat calmly.

Satan walked up to him and said, “Don’t you know who I am?”

The man replied, “Yep, sure do.”

Satan asked, “Aren’t you going to run?”

“Nope, sure ain’t,” said the man.

Satan asked, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

The man replied, “Been married to your sister for over 48 years.”

 

Like Romeo and Juliette

 Not feeling it this fine Saturday morning. There is lots of Life going on, but I’m not going to go there. The granddaughter has a soccer game this morning then I have a full closing shift at the big box. Otherwise, I have nothing of personal interest to report. 

Last year’s Cubs have returned, unable to score, hit, or prevent the opponents from doing the same. If the starting pitching cannot hold the score close then they roll over and submit. Even if they get some base runners, they cannot get the momentum to keep things going. That’s the problem with baseball in general these days, it is home run or strike out. There is no value in singles and doubles for many of the players. 

Back when the boy played in travel ball he had a coach that only liked the power hitters. That coach would fit in well with today’s baseball strategists. The boy had a batting average pushing .400, but couldn’t get playing time because he did not hit booming fly balls or home runs. More than once I heard the coach derisively call the boy a “slap hitter”. Unfortunately, that coach really disliked me for some reason and took out that animosity on the boy. Small town pettiness at its best.

As usual, I showed up here with nothing and managed to put letters into words. Not interesting ones, I agree, but a post-like substance nonetheless. 

How about a little music to round out this Saturday?

Have a great day.

Now there's revolution, but they don't know What they're fighting

Living in the past. 

Yeah, my life. 

I got an advanced copy

of Joe’s big speech at the Democratic Convention. 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter: four score and seven years ago I had a dream, that we only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Ict bien ein Berliner. Thank you for the nomination.

The old plagiarist still has it.

Running on Empty

Biden is officially the Democrat nominee. A lifelong dream come true for him. And when I say lifetime, I mean it. Creepy Joe first started running for President back in the eighties. Even the ghost of William Jennings Bryant is muttering that enough is enough. Back in the days of big hair and shoulder pads Biden’s Presidential run was derailed by stealing a speech and passing it off as his own, in other words, plagiarism. 

The bottom line the dude has sucked at the taxpayer teat since 1973. I’m not positive he ever had a real job. Biden is the very definition of a career politician. Addled Joe wants us to believe everything is wrong and he must be elected, but his party controlled both houses of Congress for a big chunk of his long, long, long career.

If you want to go back to the glory days of the Obama years — an anemic economy, high taxes, overwhelming regulations, high gas prices, civil unrest, endless wars, and sucking up to the Chinese, then Biden is your man. 

Trying to pin Joe to a policy position s like trying to train amoeba to dance to Billie Jean. Biden will say anything to get elected. For it, against it, what do the polls say? And lest you “Me too” types forget, there are serious accusations Joe likes to take a hands on approach with his subordinates. I suspect all of you who were outraged over the Kavanagh affair will be protesting outside the Convention tonight. Believe All Women, amirite?

Chirp, chirp.

Updates

I edited the old blog roll. If I removed you by accident, let me know. If you want added, likewise let me know in the comments. 

lying liars and the lies they tell

The Democrats want us to believe that unless anyone who wants to can mail in a vote, regardless if they are eligible or not, the election will be fraudulent. Huh? Somehow the long-running financial troubles of the USPS has turned into a conspiracy to disenfranchise people of color. Huh? The USPS has the capacity to handle any number of ballots. They handle that volume every Christmas. They handle that volume every day already. And, just like your Christmas cards, if you mail your ballot at the last minute it might not arrive in time. That’s no evil Republican plot, it is reality.

If you can go to a grocery store, go to a restaurant, go to school, protest in the streets, then you can go to the polls on Election Day. There is nothing sinister in a community center, church, school, or firehouse that makes you more likely to catch the Wuhan Flu while voting. No matter what Michelle, never proud of her country, says, no one is trying to stop you from voting. 

What say we do some math? Don’t worry, I’m a history major so it will not be complicated. Say it takes two minutes to cast your vote. Assume 500 people vote at your precinct. That means it will take 1000 minutes total to cast all of the votes in a normal election. Today we might have to stand further apart while waiting to cast our ballot. So yes, the lines will be “longer” in terms of length. They may stretch down the block instead of just out the door, but only because people are standing further apart. It will still take two minutes each for five hundred people to vote, for a total of 1000 minutes. Nothing will change.

No one will need to put on comfortable shoes and bring their brown bag lunch and be prepared to spend all night to vote against the Bad Orange Man. Michelle is full of...hyperbole. It is an election, not a ticket line for a 1981 Bruce Springsteen concert. Get a grip.

One more thing. If polling places are being consolidated or closed, that is a local decision. The Feds are not now nor ever in charge of elections. Neither Orange Man Bad nor Cocaine Mitch have anything to do with it. In Indiana, for instance, elections are a county matter. If a polling place is closed in a minority neighborhood in Indianapolis, then the blame falls on the Democrats, who control Marion County. 

Will no one  in the media call out the blatant lies?

Death Bed Confessions

 Nearing the end of a hard life, old Ed was surrounded by his loved ones. As he sensed his final moment was approaching, he gathered all his strength and whispered:

“I must tell you my greatest secret.”

His family members were all ears, and urged him to go on.

“Before I got married, I had it all,” explained Ed.

“Fast cars, cute girls, and plenty of money. But a good friend warned me..

…‘Get married and start a family. Otherwise, no-one will be there to give you a glass of water to drink when you’re on your deathbed.’

“So I took his advice. I traded the girls for a wife, beer for baby food. I sold my Ferrari and invested in college funds. And now here we are…

“And you know what?”

“What?” Whispered the fascinated members of his family.

“I’m not even thirsty!”

The stuff that keeps me amused

I went to the Walmart Grocery/Market* to grab some spuds Sunday afternoon. Like all of the Walmart stores in this area, they had the temporary fence up to herd the customers into line. At the end of the fence was a lady in her Walmart vest, checking to make sure we were masked up. She had a stack of masks for those patrons who came unprepared.

She didn’t have a mask on.

*just groceries, not a full store 

There’s a port on a western bay

Shall we get the banal in right from the start? I worked all day Friday lifting, moving, dealing with the GenPop in all of their unpleasant ways. While we both may be masked, it is not necessary to get within inches of me when we are discussing your mouse-killing needs. You may be comfortable with closeness from your Sub-Continent upbringing. Me, I like plenty of space between us. When I back away it is social distancing, no need to step into the breach. Here is another hint. That guy/gal at your big box home center has no clue. They read the label just as you could. The TV ads might want you to think they are experts. They have just answered the same questions repeatedly. 

Yesterday we went to watch granddaughter #1 play soccer. It was hot and humid. Some friends came down for the evening. Laughs and euchre were on the schedule. 

Today, I’m going to throw a small pork shoulder on the smoker. Chunks of apple and hickory are already soaking to make a thick, hot smoke. I’m not sure what else we will have, maybe some homemade potato salad. 

I have had that song Brandy (you’re a fine girl) by the band Looking Glass stuck in my head for a week. Please, please make it stop.

There, you are all caught up on the mundane that makes for content around here. I hope you have a great Sunday.

I can dream

 

Not gonna happen though.

Outta here

 A woman, cranky because her husband was late coming home again, decided to leave a note, saying, “I’ve had enough and have left you…don’t bother coming after me”

Then she hid under the bed to see his reaction.

After a short while, the husband comes home and she could hear him in the kitchen before he comes into the bedroom.

She could see him walk towards the dresser and pick up the note.

After a few minutes, he wrote something on it before picking up the phone and calling someone.

“She’s finally gone…yeah I know, about time, I’m coming to see you, put on that …… French nightie. I love you…can’t wait to see you…we’ll do all the naughty things you like.”

He hung up, grabbed his keys and left.

She heard the car drive off as she came out from under the bed, seething with rage and with tears in her eyes.

She grabbed the note to see what he wrote.

“I can see your feet. We’re outta bread; be back in five minutes.”

 

Where did the cursor go?

 The oldest granddaughter started kindergarten today. It is weird around here as the youngest granddaughter does her best impression of a hurricane. The oldest has been here nearly every weekday since she was a month old. My wife is taking it hard. Almost as bad as when our own kids started school.

In other news Biden has chosen his running mate. I bet her record as a prosecutor is a issue for the get-rid-of-the-cops crowd. Her anti-gun stance will be a problem for fly-over moderates. 

Laughingly, women’s groups are telling the media they better not treat Kamala like they did Sarah Pallin. Hah, it was leftist women who were most vicious. No worry though, the media is even more in the tank for Democrats than in 2008. 

I laugh when I read the accounts of Harris’ “debate prowess “. I guess they did not watch the Democrat Presidential debates. The Veep nominee was toasted repeatedly by the other contenders to the point it destroyed her Presidential aspirations. I doubt Pence is too worried. 

Jumping into the wayback machine

 

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.

Chasing the clouds away

I gotta be honest, when I am king of the world we will never again hear that harridan harp all over Jake from State Farm. 

And the Progressive Flo campaign is off the air immediately. That Toyota lady too. You have both ridden the residual gravy train long enough.  We are all tired of you. And while I’m on the subject of commercials that bug me, what is Brand Power anyway? What are they advertising? 

Do people who watch Judge Judy get involved in more auto accidents? Ambulance Chasers in my area seem to think so.

What happened to Charlie the Tuna? 

Storms rolled through the area last night. We had big rain and wind, but the line moved through quickly. The air remains heavy and humid this morning. The sky is clean and blue.

It’s another day here in blog land. I hope yours is a good one.

Tuesday afternoon

I'm just beginning to see

Now I'm on my way

It doesn't matter to me

Chasing the clouds away

Spell check is important

 A g‌‌uy s‌‌ends a‌‌ t‌‌ext t‌‌o h‌‌is n‌‌ext-door neighbor

“Bob, I‌‌’m s‌‌orry. I‌‌’ve b‌‌een r‌‌iddled w‌‌ith g‌‌uilt a‌‌nd I‌‌ h‌‌ave t‌‌o c‌‌onfess: I‌‌ h‌‌ave b‌‌een h‌‌elping m‌‌yself t‌‌o y‌‌our w‌‌ife w‌‌hen y‌‌ou’re n‌‌ot a‌‌round, p‌‌robably m‌‌ore t‌‌han y‌‌ou. I‌‌ k‌‌now i‌‌t’s n‌‌o e‌‌xcuse b‌‌ut I‌‌ d‌‌on’t g‌‌et i‌‌t a‌‌t h‌‌ome. I‌‌ c‌‌an’t l‌‌ive w‌‌ith t‌‌he g‌‌uilt a‌‌ny l‌‌onger. I‌‌ h‌‌ope y‌‌ou’ll a‌‌ccept m‌‌y s‌‌incerest a‌‌pology. I‌‌t w‌‌on’t h‌‌appen a‌‌gain.”

Feeling o‌‌utrage a‌‌nd b‌‌etrayed, B‌‌ob g‌‌rabs h‌‌is g‌‌un, g‌‌oes i‌‌nto t‌‌he b‌‌edroom, a‌‌nd w‌‌ithout a‌‌ w‌‌ord, s‌‌hoots h‌‌is w‌‌ife.

Moments l‌‌ater t‌‌he g‌‌uy g‌‌ets a‌‌ s‌‌econd t‌‌ext: “‌‌Really s‌‌hould u‌‌se s‌‌pell c‌‌heck! T‌‌hat s‌‌hould b‌‌e ‘wifi’.”

What now Nancy?

 The Trumpster just out politicked the Dems yet again. He signed an Executive Order restoring some of the unemployment benefits and other Bat Flu relief measures. 

Now the Democrats will have to go to court to take away those benefits.  That won’t look good.

Does Trump have the power to spend money like that? No. Is it a violation of the a Constitution? Certainly. Can we afford these measures? Absolutely not.

 It was a brilliant political play.

Joke of the day

The wife says I ruined her birthday.

I didn’t even know it was her birthday.

Asking for a friend

When fringe White Supremacy groups endorsed the Trumpster for President the media and Democrats (redundant) stated this made Trump a bigot and racist.

Since Biden has now garnered the endorsement of the Revolutionary Communist Party of America, doesn’t this by logic make him a Commie rat bastard?

This is not the government we deserve

I had to contact the unemployment office this week. I am once again reminded how inefficient, unresponsive, unprofessional, and awful it is to deal with almost any level of government. 

Of course I couldn’t talk to a real person when I called Monday morning. The system was “better” than when I spent hours on hold back in the early days of the pandemic. It told me my wait time and said I could get a call back without losing my place in line. I pushed the requisite button, expecting a call back Monday. 

Nope.

Yesterday I tried to call again, only to get a terse message that I was on the call back list already. Surely I would get a call back this day.

Nope.

I tried again this morning, pushing various numbers until I got the “please hold” response. I got someone within a few minutes. Instantly pissed. I swallowed my frustration and was sweet as honey while I explained my problem. She told me I needed to apply for a new program. I pointed out that the DWD website says clearly I “need do nothing”; I will automatically get the extended benefits. But, I added, I am glad to apply, how do I do that?  Back on hold.  Finally she said yes, it will be automatic. She didn’t know how or when or what to expect but at some point it will be fixed.  Last time it took six weeks. 

What is really sad is that she was so poorly trained I had to tell her what her policy says. Yet she is secure in a union protected job. 

I finally got my call back about an hour after I spoke with them. My 48 minute estimated hold only took three days to be answered.

I guess I understand why the Government does not give you a survey to complete after an interaction like private sector companies do. On the other hand, the government has no incentive to do a good job.

Just think, both political parties want to give us more government. 

No artificial flavoring

I’m sitting on the couch sipping coffee that is almost too hot to drink. I can just hear the little fountain just outside the family room window as I peruse the day’s news and the internet before the girls arrive. Life continues apace here at the old homestead. 

I’m not scheduled to spend much time at work this week. A few hours tomorrow and another handful on Saturday. I have plenty of work around here. The last several days of rain have left the lawn need of cutting. I need to spray the weeds. A white lavender needs serious pruning. In fact, it has so much dead I may have too remove it entirely. Mulberries are poking their evil heads through the tiger lily patch. I want to get some of this done while we have fall-like weather this week. The August heat will return. I hope so anyway. Papa needs a new furnace. 

Window Shopping

A travel agent looked up from his desk to see an older lady and an older gentleman peering in the shop window at the posters showing the glamorous destinations around the world.

The agent had had a good week and the dejected couple looking in the window gave him a rare feeling of generosity.

He called them into his shop and said, “I know that on your pension you could never hope to have a holiday, so I am sending you off to a fabulous resort at my expense, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

He took them inside and asked his secretary to write two flight tickets and book a room in a five-star hotel.

They, as can be expected, gladly accepted, and were on their way.

About a month later the little lady came into his shop.

“And how did you like your holiday?” he asked eagerly.

“The flight was exciting and the room was lovely,” she said. “I’ve come to thank you. But, one thing puzzled me.

Who was that old guy I had to share the room with?

 

Revenge of a Rain-in-his-Face

 

The Revenge of Rain-in-the-Face

In that desolate land and lone,
Where the Big Horn and Yellowstone
  Roar down their mountain path,
By their fires the Sioux Chiefs
Muttered their woes and griefs
  And the menace of their wrath. 

"Revenge!" cried Rain-in-the-Face,
"Revenge upon all the race
  Of the White Chief with yellow hair!"
And the mountains dark and high
From their crags re-echoed the cry
  Of his anger and despair. 

In the meadow, spreading wide
By woodland and river-side
  The Indian village stood;
All was silent as a dream,
Save the rushing of the stream
  And the blue-jay in the wood. 

In his war paint and his beads,
Like a bison among the reeds,
  In ambush the Sitting Bull
Lay with three thousand braves
Crouched in the clefts and caves,
Savage, unmerciful! 

Into the fatal snare
The White Chief with yellow hair
  And his three hundred men
Dashed headlong, sword in hand;
But of that gallant band
  Not one returned again. 

The sudden darkness of death
Overwhelmed them like the breath
  And smoke of a furnace fire:
By the river's bank, and between
The rocks of the ravine,
  They lay in their bloody attire. 

But the foemen fled in the night,
And Rain-in-the-Face, in his flight,
  Uplifted high in air
As a ghastly trophy, bore
The brave heart, that beat no more,
  Of the White Chief with yellow hair. 

Whose was the right and the wrong?
Sing it, O funeral song,
  With a voice that is full of tears,
And say that our broken faith
Wrought all this ruin and scathe,
  In the Year of a Hundred Years.

https://www.hwlongfellow.org/poems_print.php?pid=208

Pass the popcorn

Yesterday’s effort was just a bit self-indulgent. I doubt I can remedy that with today’s effort. 

I think I have to agree with my blog buddy Jean. Baseball is just weird. A week into the season and I am having a hard time watching. I find myself flipping channels between innings sometimes I don’t come back. I don’t know, it is just strange.

Yesterday was filled with spotty drizzle and heavy cloud cover. We took the old 52 inch rear projection TV down to the recycling center. Half the pixels were out and the bulb was way past dim. Our SIL gave us a 48 inch flat screen we put in the bedroom to replace the worn out TV. Both are too big for a bedroom, but having a big TV in there is like watching at the drive-in. The only problem is I really hate watching TV in bed. I know, weird, right. Not even in a hotel. 

Of course no one under about 40 has ever been to a drive-in theater. The one we frequented in my youth is still open. The wife and I had many dates there when we were youngsters. My old POS pickup was great for watching movies with the big windshield and bench seat.

We took the kids to the one in Shelbytucky a few times when they were young and before it started to cost the same as going to a “real” movie theater. Mostly the kids complained they couldn’t see the screen well from the back seat. Today’s windshields are designed for gas mileage, not movie viewing. Frankly, the kids didn’t enjoy it much and we didn’t go so often.

 I have a yen for a donut this morning. 

A bientot.

easy turnip greens

I was dead tired after work yesterday. It was a brutal day of stocking at the Big Box store. I estimate I lifted more than a ton (literally) in my all-day shift. 

*Smack* Quit yer whining you pansy. 

On the bright side, the job is getting me into better shape. I am averaging 6-10 miles of walking per shift, which averages to just under four miles a day for July. The lifting is building upper body strength I haven’t had for years. Besides, I now weigh about what I did as a senior in high school. Heck, I weigh fifteen pounds less than I did when I got married. More to the point, I am down 65 pounds from my weight when I started the Fat in Indiana blog. Who knew, I have ribs! I am far from starving third-world skinny, but my waistline is better. I am barely inside the ideal weight for men of my height. None of this prattle should be viewed as braggadocio, rather more a testament to portion control, medication side effects, and diabetic diet. 

Since we are focusing on me, me, me today, it is interesting to note that Mother Nature has a sense of humor. Well into my thirties I still looked very young. I was regularly carded when buying beer. Now, I look probably ten years older than my real age. So it goes. I won’t dye my hair. 

Outside of looming economic destruction and the potential loss of everything if I don’t find a real job soon, I am as happy as I have been in a very, very long time. The wife and I are getting along great and I am less stressed than I should be. I am blessed, and things will work according to God’s plan. 

I know, anger and depression and diatribe make for way more interesting blog fodder. You get what you pay for.

I like this tune. Have a great Saturday.

Boy do I hate the new blogger dashboard.

I’m still here, trying to navigate the new Blogger dashboard. Chalk it up to old dog, new tricks syndrome. 

I could rip off a paragraph or two about work and changing schedules at the last minute, but that isn’t fruitful for any of us. Let’s just say I have had the early shift the past few days and that makes blogging tough. 

Except I have the early shift today and I am managing. Shut up already. 

Are Trump’s advisers idiots, or is he? That “let’s postpone the election” balloon he floated was dumb beyond belief. Not only is the election date set Constitutionally, he can’t change it anyway.  If we can manage elections in the midst of Civil Wars and World Wars, we can manage in a pseudo-pandemic. Democrats are already claiming Trump will despotically refuse to leave theWhite House if he loses, and The Donald just dumped gasoline on that fire. It doesn’t matter if he is right in his reasoning, the politics of the proposal are stupid.

It looks like a spate of fall-like weather is about to set in with temperatures in the seventies and rain. I can only say 2020 has been weird in many ways. 

Have a good Friday.

‘Cause I dig it

sad trombone

Thunderstorms rolled through yesterday afternoon and evening leaving the grass wet and the air fresh and clean this morning. I need to mow, but that is a task I will likely leave to tomorrow or Thursday.

I threw together a boxed coffee cake mix for breakfast. It was delicious. The girls all liked it.

Boy, this is some riveting stuff.

True confession, this was yesterday’s post. It didn’t rain on Tuesday. In fact it was beautiful.

Another confession, I have no more to offer today than I did yesterday.

It is a sad state of affairs.

new week, laced with optimism. As usual.

Keep yer fingers crossed. I had a promising initial interview with a big widget manufacturer this morning. Well, with the recruiter. Since these are the same kind of widgets I have been involved with through manufacturing and sales since 1989, I know the products, or at least how and where they work. The position is for aftermarket rather than OEM sales, which is mostly what I have done, but we shall see.

What that means, is I sold the products by the tens of thousands directly to the factories where the cars, trucks, motors, etc. were made. The aftermarket is selling to the repair shops, warehouses, and distributors for sale to people to fix or replace a worn part. Companies make lots of profit on aftermarket parts. OEM parts keep the factories open and pay the bills.  That $20 Bearing you just bought down at the auto parts store was probably sold to Ford for around $2.  Ford bought 500,000 pieces. The local auto parts store will buy 13.

That’s more info than you wanted. Or need. Or care about.

Have a great Monday.

Random Ramblings CXIV

Had a great day yesterday. We hung out with some friends, enjoying their pool. Mucho Garcias. A good time was had by all. There is comfort in being with people you have know for 45 years.

Through most of the 1990s and early 2000s, I spent considerable time in Portland, calling on customers there four to six times a year on average. I have often said it is one of my favorite places to visit. It makes me sick to think about the constant rioting engulfing the city. It is the harbinger of our liberal future. It is not that future us will be incapable of independent thought, rather we will not be allowed to.

There is nothing like millionaire athletes telling us about how awful their life is. The infusion of politics into sports has certainly made me lose interest in the games. I bet I’m not the only one.

Hi ho hi ho today. I’m off to the big box for a full day of fun. One thing you learn working retail, the world is filled with jerks.

What started out as an upbeat entry has taken a turn I did not plan. How about a little music to improve the mood?

OK, not a bright and cheerful tune, but a great song anyway.

Have a great Sunday.

What a mess

I was all jazzed up to watch the Cubs on Opening Day last evening. I turned on the TV and got the “no signal” message. Checked the company website and there was an outage in my area. Crap.

I did watch the game on my phone, but that wasn’t the same. At midnight the service was still out.

Got up this morning and still no internet or TV. Called Metronet. The TV came on after pushing this and replugging that. I thought I was good to go. Watched a recording and went to check emails. No internet. Called back. Pushed this and replugged that. I now have WiFi. Sat down and promptly  lost the signal on the TV. I am now rebooting the cable box. I am also quickly losing patience.

I guess I have to call again.  Grrr.

Edit.  All fixed

twisted logic

The world is crazy. A NY Times music critic has argued that blind auditions for orchestras are unfair because not enough blacks and Latinos are hired if the best musicians get the job. He says the orchestra should reflect the community.  OK, I guess that also holds true for the NBA and NFL? It seems to me choosing anything based on skin color is just wrong.

Opening day for the Cubs. My enthusiasm for Tbe season will be colored by the number of players  who kneel for the National Anthem. At least the MLB isn’t painting the names of criminals or Marxist organizations all over the field. Yet.

So much for no politics Friday.

How about some music to mellow the mood?

One of my all-time favorites.

Have a great Friday.

Failure to communicate

A mother-in-law arrives home from the shops to find her son-in-law Pete in a steaming rage and hurriedly packing his suitcase.

“What happened Paddy ?” she asks anxiously.

“What happened!! I’ll tell you what happened. I sent an email to my wife telling her I was coming home today from my fishing trip. I get home… and guess what I found??

“Yes, your daughter, my wife Jean, naked with Tim McDurmt in our marital bed! This is unforgivable, the end of our marriage. I’m done. I’m leaving forever!”

“Come now, calm down, calm down Paddy!” says his mother-in-law. “There is something very odd going on here. Jean would never do such a thing! There must be a simple explanation. ‘ll go speak to her immediately and find out what happened.”

Moments later, the mother-in-law comes back with a big smile. “There now Pete, you see? I told you there must be a simple explanation!

“Well, WHAT is it?” Fumed Pete.

“She never got your E-mail!”

The best way to recap is with a new hat

I worked all day at the big box, a full eight on my feet. Twenty-seven plus miles logged since Friday, the doctor will be pleased. I came home and made a pan of homemade mac and cheese and grilled up some smoked sausage. I ate too much which is probably why I am up at five ayem; all of that grease oozing through my veins.

I see the prosecutor in St. Louis has charged pink shirt guy and his wife for waving guns at the trespassers who invaded their neighborhood. This is where we are, criminals are celebrated and folks are prosecuted for wrong-think.

We went to graduation party Saturday to mark the non-ceremony held a few weeks back. We were headed home in the late twilight. Cruising the country roads and state highways with the windows down, the sultry air reminded me of my youth. The sweet smell of corn filled my nose. Lightning bugs made comet streaks as I wizzed by at 60 mph, occasionally leaving a glow-green splat on the windshield. I was, for a while at least, perfectly content.

That’s not true. I am pretty content much of the time.

Cowboys

In the days of the Wild West, there was a young cowboy who wanted more than anything to be the greatest gunfighter in the world.

He practiced every minute of his spare time, but he knew that he wasn’t yet first-rate and that there must be something he was doing wrong.

Sitting in a saloon one Saturday night, he recognized an elderly man standing at the bar who in his day had the reputation of being the fastest gun in the West. The young cowboy took a place next to the old-timer, bought him a drink and told him the story of his great ambition. “Do you think you could give me some tips?” he asked.

The old man looked him up and down and said, “Well, for one thing, you’re wearing your gun too high. Tie the holster a little lower down on your leg.”

“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the young man.

“Sure will,” replied the old-timer. The young man did as he was told, stood up, whipped out his 44 and shot the bow tie off the piano player.

“That’s terrific!” said the hot shot. “Got any more tips for me?”

“Yep,” said the old man. “Cut a notch out of your holster where the hammer hits it. That’ll give you a smoother draw.”

“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the younger man. “You bet it will,” said the old-timer.

The young man took out his knife, cut the notch, stood up, drew his gun in a blur, then shot a cufflink off the piano player.

“Wow!” exclaimed the cowboy. “I’m learnin’ somethin’ here.. Got any more tips?”

The old man pointed to a large can in a corner of the saloon. “See that axle grease over there? Coat your gun with it.”

The young man went over to the can and smeared some of the grease on the barrel of his gun. “No,” said the old-timer, “I mean smear it all over the gun, handle and all.”

“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the young man.

The Old Timer said , “No, but when Wyatt gets done playing the piano, he’s gonna shove that gun up your behind, and it won’t hurt as much if it’s all greased up.”

A post chock full of nutrition

I woke early this morning. I wish otherwise, but so it goes.

It’s been an interesting week. I say that as in weird, strange, different. We had to attend a funeral Thursday for my wife’s last remaining uncle. One of the wife’s cousins, whom I have never met, hugged me. In case you don’t know, I really hate to be touched. I don’t like hugs from anyone except my wife and granddaughters. I really hate to be hugged by strangers at any time, especially in theses days of the Chinese flu. Heck, I had a mask on, that should have been a sign I didn’t want any cooties. More to the point, who hugs perfect strangers?

My best friend suffered a mild heart attack Thursday morning. This is not his first. He is recovering at home.

I don’t know if it is a full moon, but customers were a strange lot at work yesterday. I’ll leave it at that.

We are off today to a high school graduation party for a skipped-over graduation due to the Covid. It will be a hot one.

You know what we need? Some music to tame the beast of a week. I was thinking some classic country might be in order, but instead I am going to present the same tune that is playing in the background as I hunt and peck this drivel:

Nuthin’ wring with that tune.

Have a great Saturday.

Ah, the timeless classics

An old man lived alone in Tasmania.

He wanted to dig his potato garden, but it was very hard work.

His only son, Jase, who used to help him, was in prison.

The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament.

Dear Jase,

I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my potato garden this year; I’m just getting to old to be digging up a garden plot.

If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me. Love Dad.

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Dad,

For heaven’s sake, don’t dig up that garden, that’s where I buried the BODIES. 

Love Jase.

At 4A.M. the next morning, the Federal Police and local police showed up and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologised to the old man and left. The same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Dad. 

Go ahead and plant the potatoes now. It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.

Love Jase.

crop dusting memories

In those days the high school marked the eastern edge of town. That was before they built the new football field or the Applebee’s or the Walmart and strip mall. Back then, past the high school was flat farmland; green corn forever to the horizon.

You could hear him in the sky, the flat drone changing to a high pitched howl as he dove his biplane low over the field, swooping up and up at the end of the run. He turned sharply, standing the little yellow machine on its wing as he completed the turn and started the next dive in one motion, hitting the spray as soon as he leveled out over the field.

I jumped on my red stingray bike and pedaled the block or so to the high school. I skidded my fat tires to a stop in the gravel lot behind the enormous gym. Now it seemed the dirty yellow plane was turning just above my head.

Climb, swoop, dive, spray, climb. Repeat and repeat. I watched in fascination as the pilot smoothly guided his machine.  At the end of one run, the engine made a cough. I looked up to see the pilot give me a little wave. I was ecstatic. I waved my skinny arm vigorously as he rose into the sky and headed towards the airport west of town beside the factories.

I would like to tell you that brief non-encounter engendered a love of flying, a romantic notion that inspired me to take to the skies as I grew older. It didn’t. The truth be known, all nine year-old mini Walter Middy me could see was a biplane flying over a field. In my imagination it was not a cornfield in rural Indiana, but the shelled and pockmarked destruction over the Western Front no-mans land in WWI France.  Our hero crop duster pilot had just fought the Hun to a stalemate.

Yes, I was even a history nerd as a child.

You can do it

Nada.

I have declared this “Write Your Own Post Day”.

You can publish it in the comments, on your blog, in a diary, write it longhand on a legal pad, or just in your head. I’m good with whatever you want to do.

Hey, you don’t need my permission for anything, even to cross the street.

This one is going to get me sent to camp

Ah, Monday. Another week starts off in the same old way.

I’m alone in the manse today, the wife went to the grandgirls’ house to babysit. I’m trying decide if I want a full-on eggs and sausage breakfast or opt for yogurt and an oatmeal creme pie. Decisions, decisions.

This is where we are. I know you don’t click links, but this is worth it. Surely this is the peak of the “everything is racist “ hysteria.

I realize that White people like to exert control over nearly everything everyone does, I thought, but since when did this literally include trying to cross the street?

Seriously, guy freaks out because the walk/don’t walk signal appears to be a white guy.  Once upon a time this would have been an Onion spoof. Now it passes for real commentary.

Please make it stop.  What next, complaints that “white” lines in the road give permission to pass and no whitey is gonna tell me what I can and can’t do. How do these people manage to get out of bed in the morning? Honestly, I think people are just hunting crap to whine about. No one is this fragile, right?

A 16 x 16 paver is heavy

It appears I neglected to blog yesterday. I hope you are OK. Were the withdrawal DTs bearable?

I spent the day hard at work around the house. I mowed and trimmed. I dug out earth and laid some pavers for the deck box. And then I trimmed up some wayward bushes and trees. I was pooped. While temperatures did not hit 90, 89 and humid was close enough.

I retired over to the swing to cool down and rest. I decided I would reward my hard work with a giant cup of ice water and a nice hand-rolled cigar. I’ve not had a smoke in more than a month. I was enjoying the serenity of the backyard, listening to the birds, relaxing in the gentle breeze as sweet smoke drifted away. I saw some movement near the privacy fence gate. It was just a squirrel scurrying across the patio to climb the big willow.

It was the western sky that really caught my attention. Dark and ominous clouds were heading my way. I grabbed the cushions from the patio furniture and stashed them in the aforementioned deck box. I gathered sundry tools and put them away. I rolled up the hose. I tossed my half-smoked stogie into the dormant garden and lowered the garage door just minutes before a steady rain started to fall.

Had the tree rat not shot across my vision,I might not have noticed the incoming rain until I was wet.

Oh, and the tip of my left index finger is bruised purple where I smashed it with a paver. Slovenly Soldier.

Have a great Sunday.

I cannot believe how boring this blog is

It is Friday. That means nothing to me these days. It is but another day. We won’t crack 90 today, according to the weather babe, the first time in a while. It appears the promised rain failed to materialize last night. I wish now I had watered the flowers. There is still a chance for precipitation this morning. We shall see.

The grandgirls are staying overnight for a sleepover this evening. The oldest already has the evening planned: pizza, popcorn and a movie. The one year-old sister will just go with the flow. Since she started walking, she has been a handful. In a good way. She is very busy. I’ll put it that way.

I through some chicken breasts on the grill last night, hitting them with a nice rub about 20 minutes before grilling and finishing with BBQ sauce at the end. I sliced some potatoes thin and wrapped them in foil with onion and chunks of cheddar cheese and grilled that too. Some canned baked beans rounded out a simple and delicious supper.

In other news I have nothing.

Have a great Friday.

Musical Interlude

washing away yesterday’s sweat

I’ve got the early shift at the Big Box this morning. That is no excuse for why I was awake at 4:30. That is on me. And no, I’m not happy about it. So it goes. It’s not like I can blame anyone but my own brain for my issues. I like to call this concept “taking responsibility “. Many Americans should investigate this new idea.

Four years ago this month I had the first of five eye procedures to fix my failing eye sight. I still need glasses, but I can see much better these days. I thank the Lord for this blessing. I am also thankful to the anonymous donors who are me their corneas. If you are not a registered organ donor, you should consider it.

In spite of my best efforts, I am unable to muster any light and fluffy content today. I am likewise determined not to delve into politics. Thus you get this drivel.

I would like to promise better going forward, but you have 15 years of history proving otherwise over there in the archives.

Watermelon Dreams

It will be another hot one today. It is summer, the heat seems to arrive around this time every year. The heat and humidity might combine to spur a quick rain shower in the afternoon.

The wife scored a little blow-up pool extra cheap a few weeks ago. I filled the pool with air and then water yesterday. The girls splashed around and had a great time. The little girl who lives next door came over and played in the water. A great time was had by all.

My neighbor imposed on a buddy who is sales manager at a car dealership to give me an interview yesterday. As I looked around I saw at least a dozen salesmen standing around waiting to pounce on any unsuspecting prospect. It was clear staffing was not a problem. Tbe dude in charge pretty much told me so during the interview. I expect nothing to come of it.

In other news, police in Washington have decided it is a bad idea to let protesters out onto the interstate highways to protest. Duh. I knew by the time I was five not to play in the street.

After reading Kaepernick’s hate-filled July 4th screed, two thoughts come to mind. If he really thinks the USA is so damn horrible, why doesn’t he go somewhere he thinks is better? He seems to admire Castro. Maybe life in Cuba would suit him? Second, why would Disney just hire him? Walt is spinning headless turns in his grave. The people running the Disney empire better hope science delays finding how to reanimate the dead, because a reborn Walt Disney would be kicking ass and taking names if he knew what they have done to his company.

RIP Charlie

Not PC, but a great tune nonetheless.

Another favorite:

What a sense of humor

We will miss you Mr.Daniels.

Speaking words of wisdom

Small town in the city

As dusk neared the neighbors began to gather in the cul-de-sac. Three separate games of corn hole were ongoing. Lawn chairs appeared curbside. An Icee truck parked nearby. Folks from down the street and neighbors’ relatives and friends joined the crowd. Neighbor B’s firework stash was piled under a tent. He had outdone himself this year. He spends thousands of dollars from his own pocket to put on a community fireworks spectacular, asking no more than a donation in the tip jar. The community pot luck was cancelled this year, but the celebration was not. By the time the sun set probably 75-100 people had joined under the few clouds in the warm, humid night sky.

The evening started with THE National Anthem as rockets and bombs exploded in the warm clear evening sky. Whoops, yells, and occasional chants of USA erupted from the college kids and their cohorts across the street. Around us other amateur pyrotechnic masters lit the sky in an explosive competition.The show went on for a good hour or more, ending with a finale that lasted a full two minutes.

Not bad for “just a dude across the street”.

There was no politics. No protest. Just a celebration of all that is good in America.

After the show was over, the neighbors grabbed brooms, shovels and garbage cans and joined together to clean the copious mess. That too speaks of the community.

I hope you had a blessed Independence Day.

Go ‘Murica

I thought I’d throw a couple of nice ribeyes on the grill this evening, being Independence Day and all.

I went to the freezer and grabbed a package we have been saving.

Coincidence? Look at the price:

That was the only package of ribeyes in the freezer.

Do dee doo doo....

.

I want my own National Anthem too

In a post a week or two ago I swore I would never bow or take a knee. I may have to reconsider that position. If the NFL moves forward with their Race baiting and pandering, I may take a knee during the so-called “Black National Anthem”. Or a piss.

There is... no, let me do that again so you know I am shouting...THERE IS ONLY ONE NATIONAL ANTHEM AND IT IS THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER. It covers us all, every damn American, whether you are black, brown, white, red, purple or all of the hues in between.

Screw who ever thought of this asinine idea, Screw the NFL, and Screw any advertiser who sponsors it. The NFL is afraid of the bad press and economic power of the BLM. It is time they learned the economic power of true Americans.

I am done with the NFL if they move forward with this BS.

This is not bringing the nation together. This is reverse Jim Crow. It also proves that the whole kneeing thing really is about the Anthem and a protest against America in general. Kneel, don’t kneel, I don’t care, but do not expect me to support you.

Football is supposed to be about entertainment, not a political rally and if the billionaire owners and millionaire players cannot understand that basic concept I propose we hurt them where it will get their attention — right in the wallet. Show them the money indeed.

checking in

I’m still here. Still breathing. I don’t feel much like ranting on politics. I’ll save that for another day.  I don’t have much else to report.

I hope all is well with you.