Lessons Learned

 An elderly Florida lady did her shopping and, upon returning to her car, found four males in the act of leaving with her vehicle.

She dropped her shopping bags and drew her handgun, proceeding to scream at the top of her lungs,

“I have a gun, and I know how to use it! Get out of the car!”.

The four men didn’t wait for a second threat.

They got out and ran like mad.

The lady, somewhat shaken, then proceeded to load her shopping bags into the back of the car and got into the driver’s seat.

She was so shaken that she could not get her key into the ignition.

She tried and tried, and then she realized why.

It was for the same reason she had wondered why there was a football, a Frisbee and two 12-packs of beer in the front seat.

A few minutes later, she found her own car parked four or five spaces farther down.

She loaded her bags into the car and drove to the police station to report her mistake.

The sergeant to whom she told the story couldn’t stop laughing.

He pointed to the other end of the counter, where four pale men were reporting a carjacking by a mad, elderly woman described as white, less than five feet tall, glasses, curly white hair, and carrying a large handgun.

No charges were filed.

The moral of the story?

If you’re going to have a senior moment… make it memorable.

We all scream

As is often the case in summer, July in particular, it has been hot. Temps cracked 100F yesterday. The heat index was around 110. At nine o’ clock last night the heat index was still over 100F. I suspect it was hot at your house too. 

I have one of these ice cream makers. It does a pretty good job and is way easier than dragging out my old-fashioned one with the salt and ice and mess. It makes enough for the two of us plus some to stash in the freezer for tomorrow. It would be a great treat n this heat.

A few weeks ago I thought I would make some ice cream. The center container, the place where the magic happens, wasn’t there in the garage freezer where it is always kept. 

I vaguely remembered removing it over the winter to make room for meat after a big shopping trip when I got my new job. OK. Where did I put it? 

It wasn’t in the box with the other components. It wasn’t on the storage shelf next to the garage refrigerator. It wasn’t anywhere in the garage. 

Didn’t we loan it to my daughter last fall for a party? Yes. She sent it home, the evidence is in the motor, paddle, and lid in the box in the garage. 

I have looked in every cabinet and storage closet in the house. I’ve been searching for nearly a month.

It is not here. 

I want some homemade ice cream. What did you do with my freezer? 

I guess I’m going to have to go buy another ice cream maker.

The old ones are still classics

 There is a mommy stork, a daddy stork, and a baby stork

One day, daddy didn’t come home for dinner.

Mommy and baby were very worried.

When dad came home late the next morning, they asked what he was doing.

“I was making a young couple very happy,” he replied.

About a week later, mommy didn’t come home for dinner.

Daddy and the baby were very worried.

When mom came home late the next morning, they asked what she was doing.

“I was making a young couple very happy,” she replied.

A few days later, the baby didn’t come home for dinner.

Mom and dad were very worried.

When he came home very late the next morning, they asked him where he was.

Baby just grinned and said,

“I’ve been scaring the sh!t out of college students!”

Independence Day II

 

I’ve said it many times, if you have not watched the first few episodes of the Adams miniseries on HBO, you should. Why it isn’t required watching in every high school I will never understand. Teaching history never needs to b confined to dry dusty politically correct tomes. 

Independence Day

 

A movie review 46 years late

 I was lazing about yesterday flipping channels when Rocky came on. It has been awhile since I watched the film and I forgot just how good it was. The gritty tale of a club boxer, just getting by and the life he lives when offered a big break is heart rendering. Each time I watch the movie I feel a sense of sadness. In the end Rocky isn’t so much a boxing movie, a sports movie, but a film about life, love, and man’s struggle to survive and find that indomitable spirit that drives us from within to compete — not just within the confines of a boxing ring, but in the arena of life. Stallone captured this perfectly in the first movie, mostly in the second, but forgot it completely in the many subsequent sequels. You can only capture lightning in a bottle so many times. 

Some of us never do. 

According to IMDB, the scene of Rocky telling Adrian his fears the night before the fight was almost not filmed because of budgetary concerns. That scene is the crux of the movie and perhaps one of the best, if not often recognized, scenes in cinema. 

No matter how much we hide behind a tough guy persona, we just want to go the distance. Is not Rocky truly the Everyman?

Suspicious Minds

We went to see the new Elvis movie last night. Wow, what an enjoyable flick. The guy who played Elvis, Austin Butler, was incredible. It is good acting when you can upstage Tom Hanks. The film showed the charisma of Presley. It glossed over the fact that Priscilla was just 14 when they met, but that wasn’t what the movie was about. 

Elvis was subjected to fame oh a level few have ever known - Sinatra in the thirties, the Beatles. In the end the fame, the hangers-on, the drugs, the performances, the Colonel all sucked hm dry. 

Anyone who has read here for a while knows I dig Elvis. I like his music. I like most of his movies, even if in the end he mostly just played Elvis. I am sure I have recounted both of my trips to Graceland over there in the archives. Unfortunately, I lack the celebrity idol gene, so I was baffled by the women crying at Elvis’ grave when I was there. 

Anyway, it is worth the bucks to see the film on the big screen. I am good at spending your money, so do what you like. 

They’ve got a name for the winners of the world

I have had Steely Dan’s Deacon Blues playing an endless loop in my head since sometime in the middle of the night. Not even the whole song, just the chorus. While I generally like Steely Dan, that isn’t one of my favorite tunes. 

I have much work for a Friday heading into the long weekend. Unfortunately, Microsoft Office started misbehaving right around quitting time last night. It told me I needed to sign back in, then proceeded to inform me my password was incorrect. Then locked me out when I insisted it was right. Th computer overlords won. Now I have to get IT to fix stuff when the workday starts. Unless I can sign in I can’t give them remote access to the screen...I’m sure they can figure it out. If not, my long week starts earlier than I thought! 

Sitting here in the recliner in my office I realize just how much I hate the paint color. When we moved in I told the wife no brown. Of course nearly every room is a shade of brown or tan. When my office was one of the back bedrooms it was a yellow. Now I have a light chocolate brown. It looks nice with my black office furniture, but I really do not like it. 

I just made up my mind I am going to repaint it a different color. Probably in the fall when I don’t have outside stuff I want to do. Now I have to decide what color I want. 

Actually, every room needs repainted in the house. It has been nine years since we moved in. The bedrooms used by the girls have been redone, but everything else is old. The walls are getting marked and scuffed. I don’t mind working around the house, I really do not like painting though. 

OK, I can’t get that song out of my head. Maybe listening to it will help. Worse case, it gets stuck in your head. Misery loves company. 

On this day

 It was a Saturday. I know that. I know the year - 1984.  I know the date - June 30. I was just out of college, barely employed. What money was saved was done by my girlfriend. What furniture we had she bought. I saved my first paychecks for the honeymoon. In just hours we would be married. 

We got married, had a small reception and headed off on our life together. It has been 38 years. A lot of better, a fair share of worse. But the worse was always outside forces — losing jobs, bad financial decisions. 

I’m lucky, I married my best friend. Thirty-eight more years with this girl wouldn’t upset me.

Summertime Blues

I know I had a couple of days off last week. I still cannot wait for the long weekend. Weird, right? 

Does anyone really believe Trump climbed from the backseat to try and grab the wheel of the Presidential limo? If you are going to trot stuff out to ensure you get that long-lasting job in the swamp or maybe a book deal, it has to at least be believable. 

I’m a bit tired this morning. A bowl of watermelon for a snack sent me to the bathroom twice in the night. My phone beeped all night long as my Asian and European colleagues emailed me during their work hours. That happens every night. The volume was heavier than usual last night. 

What I really want is a big plate of bacon and eggs (over easy) and some grits. I’d take fried potatoes or hash browns. If you loved me you would fix me some. I guess it is going to be Raisin Bran. 

Since we are in the heart of summer and heading to the great Independence Day weekend, how about an old summertime classic?

Dig those dance moves!

You can’t always get...

We all face disappointment. I grabbed a peach after lunch. It was beautiful. I took a bite and it was like biting into an apple. Who wants a green crunchy peach? 

Outraged women are proposing they will not have sex until Roe v. wade is reinstated. 

I guess in that case you won’t need an abortion anyway...

Do these people understand how government works? The Court does not make law. Legislators make law. If they want access to abortion they need to make sure their state enacts laws as such. No one can “reinstate” a vacated court ruling. 

This is indeed how a representative republic works. 

A clean one

After church, Johnny tells his parents he has to go and talk to the minister right away.

They agree, and the pastor greets the family.

“Pastor,” Johnny says,

“I heard you say today that our bodies came from the dust.”

“That’s right, Johnny, I did,” he says.

“And I heard you say that when we die, our bodies go back to dust.”

“Yes, I’m glad you were listening,” the pastor replies.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well you better come over to our house right away and look under my bed, ’cause there’s someone either comin’ or goin’!”

 

Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face

I would like to tell you I had a great and productive weekend. I cannot. Were arraigned things in the youngest granddaughter’s room. I put up a twin bed to replace the toddler bed she was using. I took apart the little bed. We moved the mattress from the guest room and now my office is bed free. I moved around furniture in there too. I need to put the old bed rails into the attic this evening while it is cool today. Ho hum, ho hum. 

Can anyone expand on why there are abortion riots in California? Nothing will change for California. There will be unfettered access to abortion in the Golden State. Why are there “mostly peaceful” riots? What do people in California care if you cannot kill babies in the Bible Belt? 

Speaking of abortion outrage, that genius AOC, the darling of the Democrat party, ranted that the Supreme Court should not determine abortion law. Isn’t that exactly what the Court said? 

Red Vines and Coffee

 

From earlier this week

Hacking through the hyperbole

It is probably too late, but before we are awash in opinion on the SCOTUS Roe decision, we should consider the court did not outlaw abortion. It returned the policy and law making to the states and yes, if so determined, even to the federal legislative branch, to make abortion law — whatever it may be. 

This is far better than creating a right or law where non existed. 

Simply put, if The People want access to abortion, they can pass laws as such. The opposite is also true. 

It is far better to let democracy decide such matters, not a handful of black-robed justices. 

Keep and Bear

 The Supreme Court ruled favorably to the right to self-defense.

The governor and mayor of each New York effectively said that they will not comply.

"This overturns 100 years of law".

So did Abolition. Ed Bonderenka

Stolen completely. You should read Ed if you don’t. 

gracias

So it was six years ago this month I underwent the first of my cornea transplants. I am thankful every day for the gift from an unknown tissue donor. 

If you are not an organ donor, please consider signing up. You never know how you could change the life of a random Joe.

Life on the farm

 A city kid went to his grandpa’s farm for the weekend.

He tagged along as Pa did what had to be done around the place, taking it all in.

Then Grandpa came across a cow having trouble calving.

He didn’t know how the whole process would be taken in by the six-year-old but had no option but to get on with the job of assisting the birth.

When the calf had been ‘pulled’ and the cow was happily cleaning it up, Pa asked the boy if he had any questions about what he had just seen.

At first, the kid seemed overwhelmed by the experience, but finally asked,

“Just how fast was that calf going when it hit the cow’s behind?”

Back home again, in Indiana

Cue Jim Neighbors singing the old song no one outside of Hoosierdom has ever heard. We rolled into the drive around 2:30 am this morning. The wife drove to Cullman, AL and I drove the rest of the way home. The driving was split pretty equal. I sure did not want to get up for work when the alarm rang a bit after seven this morning. But I did. 

We had a great mini vacaction. Now I can work for the next eight months or so before we can do it again. 

Gas was ridiculous, and I don’t mind saying we fueled up outside of Louisville to save more than $0.60 a gallon over Indiana’s high gas taxes. Our gas is going up at least another nickel a gallon next week as the gas tax goes even higher. The perfidious politicians tied the tax to the price of oil and inflation, so we are hit extra hard every time prices rise.*  The higher the price at the pump, the higher the tax. Bidenflation really is a regressive tax. Where are the Occupiers protesting this administration? 

We are home safe, happy and broke. Life is good.

*Theoretically, the tax would go down should the price of gas fall.

Life Rule #4

You can never be in a bad mood when there are palm trees around.

My life is a Jimmy Buffet song

I’ve a bit of sunburn on my big white whale belly. There is also a hint of red in the usual places for me: the tops of my feet and around my knees. It isn’t severe, slight discomfort might be the best description. The red will turn to tan in a few days. 

I am already anticipating and dreading the end of vacation tomorrow. I like the beach, yet a few days is plenty of sand and sun. I never get tired of loafing and reading though. I do get very tired of hotel rooms. 

I suppose that last sentiment is a function of my job. I guess a five dollar hooker has spent more nights in a hotel room, but I’ve done enough to find it monotonous and dreary. At one point n my career I spent forty to sixty nights a year in various hotels and motels. In recent years, that average has dropped to twenty or twenty-five. That is still plenty. *  For reference, my hotel night count is at 13 so far this year. 

I’m not complaining. I love my job. I’m just saying my level of excitement in checking into a hotel is probably way different than yours when you go on your vacation or that trip to visit cousin Madge in Bettendorf. 

Anyway one more night then back home. That will be it for traveling vacation this year. So it goes. 

*the average when I was actually doing my traveling salesman gig, not the out-of-work interlude.

Winning the important stuff

I like to play the classic card game Free Cell on my iPad. I will occasionally play while watching TV, or when I’m bored. I’m not great at it. It usually takes me a couple of minutes to clear a board and my all -time high score is a shade over 19,000 points. 

Last weekend, it might have been Saturday when the wife was sick, I hit a new personal best win streak of 49 games in a row. For me that is a lot. My previous personal best was twenty-some games. Irritated to finally lose, I started another game and won. Take that computer card game.

I just looked at my stats. I guess I was ticked. I haven’t lost since. At this point my win streak is at 98 games in a row. I’ve won 147 out of the last 148 games. 

Of course I certainly just jinxed everything. 

If I’m going on a winning streak why couldn’t it be the lottery, the HGTV dream house, the horses, a big chunk of new business for the company, or all the nookie I want?  I waste my good luck on a silly computer card game. 

Personal for you

Happy Fathers Day to all you dads out there.

I miss you, Pop.

Hanging at John Boy’s Fort

I have to ask, is it a state law in Alabama that drivers aren’t allowed to use cruise control? I’ve never seen a bunch of drivers so unable to control their speed in my life, unless it is the jackasses from Illinois. At least they don’t park in the left line and refuse to move over like Buckeyes tend to do. 

The grandkids are off on vacation with their parents, so the wife has next week off. I had a couple of comp days available for Sunday work and travel, so we packed the car and motored off late last night to the beach, where I secured a room using hotel points for a few nights. It is a wife’s birthday/fathers day/anniversary trip combined. We have a parking lot view, but so it goes. I don’t intend to spend my time in the hotel room anyway. I got the whole stay for fewer points than one night of sea view with a balcony. 

This is the view poolside. It is good enough for me. 

I slept a few hours last evening while the wife packed. I then drove straight through while she snored in the car. We road trip well together and both enjoy long car trips. We’re here. We made it safe. I’ll send you a post card if I can find a stamp. 

This time it is the NSFW joke I promised

 An old one:

Two deaf people get married.

During 1st week of marriage they found they are unable to communicate in bedroom with the lights out as they can’t see each other signing.

After several nights of fumbling and misunderstanding they finally came up with a solution.

The wife said, ” Why don’t we agree on simple signs for instance if you want to have  sex with me squeeze my left breast once. If you don’t want to have sex squeeze my right breast once.

The husband said ok, then asked her if she want to have sex pull his mickey once and if she doesn’t want to have sex pull his mickey two hundred and fifty times.

Probably NSFW

It is hot here too. It is often like that in the summer. Since it rained most of the weekend and Monday, the grass needs cutting. I was unwilling to go out in 95F heat yesterday evening to do the work. Besides, the granddaughter had a swim meet. It was hot enough poolside. In fact, it was a little cruel watching others get to swim in the water. It was not recreational splashing though. It was work. A length of the pool is a long way for a seven year-old to butterfly. Ha, it is a long way for a sixty year-old to butterfly! Maybe I can get to the mowing after supper this evening. 

In other news...yeah. I have conference calls every morning this week. On-going discussions with customers on price increases continue. One customer in particular is very resistant. I have used every phrase available in my vocabulary to say “It ain’t optional Pal” without actually saying it. This afternoon will mark the fourth discussion with this recalcitrant customer. In response to “justification” in my conversation yesterday I finally asked in desperation, “have you been to the grocery, have you seen the price at the pump?”. We have reached to point where I tell them today they must take the adjustment or we quit shipping July 1st. Whilst that position doesn’t burn bridges, it sure leaves some smoke stains on the footings. Oh well, this isn’t my first time handing out price increases. Nor will it be the last. 

My coffee is getting cold and I’m running out of boring nonsense to write. Have a great hump day. 

Oh, I was going to post a joke. Instead I posted a joke of a post.

Brandon at the dentist

 

Sunday Question

Is there a better war movie than Zulu?

The Contest

They were all there, the toughest of the tough. Bruce Lee from Enter The Dragon fell in the early rounds. Fists of fury are no match for the guns of The a Man With No Name. John Wick held his own, while Aquaman was a fish out of water. Batman and his gadgets fell apart under the relentless pursuit of the Terminator. Thor hammered the Hulk. Captain America and Wonder Woman were disqualified from the melee when they slipped of for a quickie. Danaerys and her dragons seemed a sure thing for a while, but how do you compete against a man who is faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Luke, he didn’t even fight. He took his light saber and went home.

Things that bug me

Why doesn’t Chewy get a medal at the end of the original Star Wars? 

I suspect it discrimination against People of Fur.

There is no place like home

 

Comerica Park (Tiger Stadium) just after a quick shower Thursday evening. I had a good trip, but I’m more than happy to be home.

Tap, tap, tap

Hello? Is this thing on? Is anybody out there? Mom? Buzz? Bueller? Bueller? Surely it isn’t me, it has to be you.

My morning granola

The day dawns bright and sunny here in downtown Detroit. The sports stadiums are in view just a few blocks from my hotel window. 

Today marks my fair, lovely, and oh so patient with me spouse’s Redacted birthday. This isn’t the first time nor probably the last I have been on the road for her big day. 

In other news, Biden sucks. The J6 monkey trial is a joke. Gas costs way too much and the administration seems happy about it. Thanks to each and every one of you who voted for this crap. Every day it looks like mean tweets weren’t so bad after all.

For further topics, please feel free to discuss among yourselves in the nearly always vacant comment section. 

I might go for some cake

 It was a practical session in the psychology class.

The professor showed a large cage with a male rat in it:

The rat was in the middle of the cage.

Then, the professor put a piece of cake on one side and put a female rat on the other side.

The male rat ran towards the cake and ate it.

Then, the professor changed the cake and replaced it with some bread.

The male rat again ran towards the bread.

This experiment went on with the professor changing the food every time.

And, every time, the male rat ran towards the food item and never towards the female rat.

Professor asked the students.

“This experiment shows that food is the greatest strength and attraction, do you agree?”

Then, one of the students from the back rows said.

“Sir, why don’t you change the female rat? This one might be his wife!”

The professor stood straight up, his finger pointing towards the student and said….

“You just got an A”.

The longest day

 I originally published this on June 6, 2005. It is still appropriate.

Monday, June 06, 2005

"The most difficult and complicated operation ever to take place" 
The above quote is by Winston Churchill. Joseph Stalin said 
"The history of war does not know of an undertaking comparable to it for breadth of conception, grandeur of scale, and mastery of execution."

June 6, 1944. Not many under the age of 40, or maybe even 60, know the importance of this date. D-Day. The assault on Normandy, an operation that has never been equaled in the anals of history. The landing location was kept a secret, the Hun was stunned to the very core. Yet it was a close thing. Read the fine history of D-Day by Stephen Ambrose. Did you think Private Ryan was graphic? Read the words of the men at Utah, Gold, Juno, and Omaha beaches.

Nearly 175,000 Canadians, British, and Americans landed on D-day, at a cost of more than 10,000 casualties. We do not know for sure. It was only after several days of fighting that role calls were made, paperwork completed. Over 6,600 Americans were casualties, over 2,000 of those were on Omaha Beach and 2,500 were from the Airborne troops. These men sacrificed to save the world from the likes of Hitler. They freed Europe and saved France from its own traitorous Vichy Government. 

"As the first men jumped, they crumpled and flopped into the water. Then order was lost. It seemed to the men that the only way to get ashore was to dive head first in and swim clear of the fire that was striking the boats. But, as they hit the water, their heavy equipment dragged them down and soon they were struggling to keep afloat. Some were hit in the water and wounded. Some drowned then and there... But some moved safely through the bullet fire to the sand and then, finding they could not hold there, went back in to the water and used it as cover, only their heads sticking out. Those who survived kept moving with the tide, sheltering at times behind underwater obstacles and in this way they finally made their landings.

Within ten minutes of the ramps being lowered, Company A had become inert, leaderless and almost incapable of action. Every officer and Sergeant had been killed or wounded... It had become a struggle for survival and rescue. The men in the water pushed wounded men ashore, and those who had reached the sands crawled back into the water pulling others to land to save them from drowning, in many cases only to see the rescued men wounded again or to be hit themselves. Within twenty minutes of striking the beach Company A had ceased to be an assault company and had become a forlorn little rescue party bent upon survival and the saving of lives." 

Official Unit Report, Company A, 116th Infantry, 29th Division. 


On the backs of these men and the rest of the "Greatest Generation" that we owe our freedom today. Thank God for them in your payers tonight.

hmmm

I notice the mass murder at the hospital in Tulsa has disappeared from the news already. 

I wonder why?

I know, it doesn’t fit the narrative.

Channeling the Stoic within

I’m set to motor off to the motor city in my motor car today for a week of trade show torture fun. Don’t tell my boss, but it is my firm belief no one ever gained new business from a trade show. Mostly you show off for the other attendees. People come to the show for the free stuff. Look for the busiest booth, invariably they are giving away the best merchandise. Besides, there is some sort of tear in the space-time continuum in a convention center where time only moves at half normal speed. What normally would be an hour is only less than thirty minutes. And this trade show is about automation, so my company has a vested interest, but it is only tangentially related to my customer base. Yes, I’m excited. Why do you ask? 

To top it off, my right foot feels like someone stabbed it in the arch with a hot poker this morning; the usual reaction after I mow the yard on the previous day. Normally, this would pass by resting. Instead I get to go stand on hard concrete for a week in dress shoes. Despite my crybaby antics, I will be fine. 

All this angst and complaining may be in vain. The wife woke yesterday feeling poorly. Heaviness in her chest, cough, and fever are making her feel miserable. All are signs of the dreaded Covid. She slept most of the day yesterday. She took an at-home test that was negative, but she will go for a more semi-accurate test at the clinic today. 

So the end result is all of my complaints may be for naught. If the wife is infected, I can’t go off spreading her germs like a modern Typhoid Mary throughout greater Southeast Michigan. I know, you might be sitting in your chair, but you are only perched on the edge of it as you await the outcome of this riveting story. 

Nap time

That didn’t go as planned. Sleep, that is. I woke somewhat after three and never did go back to sleep. I watched the latest episode of Obi Wan Kenobi, then a couple of episodes of the old Laugh In TV show. Nothing too thrilling for sure. 

That’s it. How about some music? 

Here is for you Glasslass, from one of my favorite movies by the King:

All you have to do is ask. 

I almost tossed up something from Blue Hawaii. Parts of that movie were filmed at the Hilton Hawaii Village, and Elvis stayed there while he made the movie. By coincidence, the wife and I stayed there when we visited Hawaii for our thirtieth anniversary in 2014. 

Maybe next week. 

I guess I have too much Pride

I gotta be honest, I’m about rainbowed out. 

A day? Sure, why not?

A week? Ok, I guess.

A month? Give me a break.

We only get one day to honor our nation’s war dead. 

One day to celebrate America’s birthday.

One day for thanksgiving. 

Black History only gets 28 days.

Do we need thirty days to celebrate whatever people choose to do in their private life? 

I suspect this post will run afoul of the Google community standards too, although I defy you to find anything hateful in the prose.

I take full responsibility

I was awake around four aye em.  I don’t  know why. I do, but nighttime bathroom runs are nothing new. The inability to go back to sleep is not so common anymore. I blame the wife. Her CPAP sounded like a jet engine for some reason. As I lie there, a perfectly acceptable post composed itself in my head along with two emails for work and that spreadsheet I have tried to construct for three days. Finally, my brain tired, I dozed with some weird-assed dreams until the wife’s alarm woke me. 

And it’s gone. The one perfectly composed email is still rattling around my skull. The rest disappeared into the dark recesses of my brain waiting to be lured out with cheese or JuJubees. Even then I suspect the post idea will be like a recalcitrant three year old hiding behind the recliner: “no, no I will not come our”. 

I think the post slipped off with that short story I thought of back in ‘05. I guess they are already on a drunken spree, throwing beer bottles at mailboxes while racing up country roads heading towards Chicago in a ‘72 Torino.  I suspect The Rolling Stones’ Missing You is playing at high volume and the windows are down. Faded memories do not care what gas costs these days. Oh no, I think they just spilled Cheetos all over the front seat. Ehew, is that a beef jerky fart? 

This is my fault. I should have just gotten up and written the post when it popped in my head instead of going back to sleep. 

Lifesavers Under my Umbrella

I am so bored with the old blog. I am certain you are too. I could complain about gas pushing $5 a gallon, but what is the point? The same people who told us how dumb GW was turn a blind eye as this administration stumble bumbles through crisis of mostly their own creation aided and abetted by a biased and willing press. 

Non sequitur warning. I may have mentioned it before, once upon a time I was a librarian. Yes, and let me tell you, a librarian convention is not nearly as fun and exciting as you might imagine. Every time a new magazine came in to the library it would have to be prepared: seams taped and reinforced, pocket put in for the borrower card, etc.. One clerk refused to process the Playboy. For some reason I was always given the job. I spent two days a week at the main library. The other three days I ran my own tiny little branch library out in a small town of a couple thousand residents in the county. We didn’t carry Playboy at the branch. I spent two long years working for just over minimum wage there in redacted. We did have Choose Your Own Adventure books for the kids.

Ok, in that spirit, it is choose your adventure time here at FiI. Do you want a music selection to round out this poor excuse for entertainment or a joke? You choose one or the other, but not both. The video is next. The dirty joke is below the fold. Let me know which you chose.

Lighten Up, Francis

A man wonders if having sex on the Sabbath is a sin because he is not sure if sex is work or play, so he goes to a priest and asks for his opinion on this question.

After consulting the Bible, the priest says, “My son, after an exhaustive search, I am positive that sex is work and is therefore not permitted on Sundays.”

The man thinks: “What does a priest know about sex?”

So he goes to a minister who, after all, is a married man and experienced in this matter.

He queries the minister and receives the same reply. Sex is work and therefore not for the Sabbath!

Not pleased with the reply, he seeks out a Rabbi, a man of thousands of years of tradition and knowledge.

The Rabbi ponders the question, then states, “My son, sex is definitely play.”

The man replies, “Rabbi, how can you be so sure when so many others tell me sex is work?”

The Rabbi speaks softly: “My son, if sex were work, my wife would have the maid do it.”

 

Remember

 

Romeo y Juliette 7x50 Connecticut

I have holiday weekend-type stuff on tap for today that may not involve sunshine, pools, cigars, beer, grilling, and laughter. Luckily, my travels will not send me anywhere near the west side of Naptown for reasons that may or may not be clear. You can solve the mystery easily by consulting a map and the sports section of the electronic or paper version of your favorite news source. 

Instead of meaningful content...stop laughing and wipe that spit take coffee from your keyboard...here is a joke for your enjoyment. It may just be adult enough to garner yet another censored warning from the Google overlords. We shall see:

Two old men decide they are close to their last days and decide to have a last night on the town.

After a few drinks, they end up at the local brothel.

The madam takes one look at the two old geezers and whispers to her manager: ‘Go upto the first two bedrooms and put an inflated doll in each bed. These two are so old and drunk, I’m not wasting two of my girls on them. They won’t know the difference’.

The manager does as he is told and the two old men go upstairs and take care of their business.

As they are walking home the first man says “You know, I think my girl was dead’. ”

Dead? says his friend, “Why do you say that?’

‘Well she never moved or made a sound all the time I was loving her’.

His friend says. ‘Could be worse I think mine was a witch’.

‘A witch??….why the hell would you say that?’ ‘

Well, I was making love to her, kissing her on the neck, and I gave her a little bite, then she farted and flew out the window… took my teeth with her!’

 

Hold out the morning that comes into view

After a rainy couple of days this morning dawns bright and clear. My store brand Kona coffee is hot. The day lily in back has pumped out a bloom already. 

We ventured out to the cinema last night to watch the Top Gun sequel. It was worth waiting more than 30 years to see for sure. Yes, the plot is unrealistic, and we again have a too long and unnecessary shirtless scene of the pilots playing football on the beach, and the objective sure sounds a lot like Luke dropping a bomb on he Death Star, but who cares? Baby I was entertained! This sequel was every bit as good as the original. Plus we had movie popcorn. 

Alan White the long-time drummer for Yes passed yesterday. He provided the beat for the progressive kings for forty years. Before that he drummed for John Lennon and the Plastic Ono band as well as providing services as a studio musician. The rock icons of my youth are dying off. But then I look in the mirror and my reflection reminds me I’m not so young anymore. 

Anyway, here is some live Yes from ‘72 right after White joined the band:

Cross-dressing cartoon characters

Yesterday afternoon the littlest granddaughter, who just turned three, was watching the cartoon Muppet Babies.  She snuggled next to me on the couch. Piggy was reading a book about Cinderella and looking at the pictures in the book. The muppets decided they would have a costume ball like in the story. The girls would be princesses, the boys knights. Gonzo said he wanted a beautiful dress like in the book. Oh oh. 

Piggy told him he had to be a prince.

Gonzo is bummed until the fairy godfather appeared and zapped him into a dress, complete with a mask. He was the star of the ball in his dress, etc. etc. Later Gonzo revealed that he was wearing the beautiful dress. Everyone said they loved him and that it was OK he wanted to wear dresses, that being himself was most important. You get the idea.

The wife was sorting toys. She just stared at the screen. “Can you believe this?” She asked.

On the surface I guess the message is good. Deeper, this show is targeted at pre-K kids. We are talking toddlers. Do they really need an inclusiveness message? Do they need to be lectured that sex is a social construct? Does anyone think this is not grooming by the very definition? Is anyone shocked this trash is on the Disney Channel, where executives have vowed to place LGBQ+ issues into every show and movie? 

Mission accomplished.

Also

Taking a side alley off memory lane

I was working in manufacturing back in the early 1990s. I was part of a team leading the transition to a new way of managing production. The big boss called team meetings with production line teams to describe the changes. I was standing in the back next to some of the assemblers. 

As the big boss explained the move from batch production he held up a book that he bought for everyone to read. Mumbling started. One assembler in particular seemed perturbed. I guessed Connie wasn’t too keen on the idea of “homework”. 

The copies of “The Just in Time Breakthrough” were passed around. As Connie got her copy she started laughing. I asked her what was wrong. 

“Ah shit”, she laughed, “I thought when he was holding up that book the title was ‘Lust in the break room’. I guess I need glasses”. 

From then on everyone in the factory referred to the book as “Lust in the break room”. A book about sex among the vending machines would have been far more interesting than the book we received. Plus some of the employees might have actually read the Lust book. I’m sure no one but me read the other one. I only read it to use it against my manager when he proposed something stupid. “But that isn’t what it says to do in Lust...”. 

Yes, I was an ass thirty years ago too. 

Words fail me

A steady rain falls as early birds chirp in the pre-dawn darkness. I don’t know why I’m up early. It just is. 

My heart breaks for the families of those children killed in Texas. Evil truly stalks this world. I won’t blame guns nor the gun lobby, rather the coward who murdered innocent babies. I’m glad he is dead and I hope he is suffering the fires of Hell. 

We don’t know why this scum murdered 20. We might never know. I refuse to name his person. Too many of these gunmen want nothing more than notoriety in our look-at-me TikTok Facebook Instagram culture. Everyone not only wants to be famous, they firmly believe they should be. And yes, I get the irony of posting a blog about the subversive influences of social media.

A Border Patrol agent reportedly respond to the school and fired the fateful shot that put down the murderer. If so, he is a hero. We should celebrate his actions, not the evil incarnate that destroyed families and rendered their hearts forever. We need to change the focus of our reporting. 

More: In an opinion piece about the Uvalde murders, The Rolling Stone magazine blames the shooting on white supremacy. Racism, is there nothing it can’t do? Despite the fact a Hispanic man killed a group of largely Hispanic children, it somehow is the fault of White People. Look it up. I’m not going to link to such nonsense. It isn’t helpful. 

Whole lotta nuthin’

I’m not sure where the weekend went. Saturday we cleaned a bit and then went to dinner with some friends. After dinner they came over for euchre and snacks. Sunday I mowed then we went to see the granddaughter in a swimming competition. Yes, I see you stifling that yawn. 

I see Brandon has promised to go to war with China should they attack Taiwan. In light of this position the armed forces should probably start focusing on war training instead of identifying white privilege and intense CRT indoctrination. 

I have plenty of stuff on the calendar this week prior to the long holiday weekend. I am counting the days. 

Curious Case of Censorship

I wasn’t much in the mood to write anything this morning. Since I am the courteous sort, I thought I’d just put up a quick post stating such. That idea in reality creates a quasi-paradox since posting a statement that I’m not going to post creates a post in itself. 

When I arrived at the Blogger dashboard I had two separate notifications that posts had been censored for violations of community guidelines. One was blocked behind a content notice, the other unpublished in its entirety. Huh? The problem is that no specific post is referenced in the notices. I scrolled back to December and found nothing in Draft that I didn’t leave there. I’m not sure what recent post would be filled with adult content either. In fact, I’m not sure I have posted nudity at all. Who knows? I have put out a lot of material over the nearly two decades of this piece o’crap blog. Maybe way back in the roaring naughts? 

I am not surprised someone somewhere was offended by my content. I am surprised it took this long to be censored by the leftists that run the hosting site. 

If you are expecting a grandiose outraged rant on censorship you are about to be disappointed. When you use someone’s platform you follow their rules. Just as there is no free speech at work (looking at you who are offended you cannot teach Sex Ed to first graders in Florida), the Google overlords have the right to limit my speech. I can like it or leave it. So it goes. 

Far from upset, I’m mostly curious as to the offending posts.

How about some music to mellow this Saturday conundrum? 

Ready Steve?

 Friday. Windy. Warm. There, we have the weather covered. 

Biden has exactly the gas prices he wants to force you to quit driving a big SUV and cough up cash for an EV, whether you want it or not. Plus, it makes alternative fuels more cost competitive. Think I’m wrong? The administration will not even concede gas is too high.  Look at the gas price chart in the linked article. Funny how those highs mostly coincide with Democrats in the Oval Office, particularly the record high costs. 

Think inflation is flattering your wallet now? Wait until record high diesel fuel costs get rolled into every good shipped in the US. Grocery prices will really skyrocket, providing you can find your favorite meat, frozen food, canned good, or produce on the shelf. 

Funny how my liberal commenters  have gone all cricket chirps these days. It is hard to tell me I’m wrong when the empirical evidence is slapping you in the face every time you pull into your local gas pump and grocery. 

On to more amusing stuff. This was stuck in m head this morning. Ready Steve? Andy? Mic? Let’s goooo!

I have to get myself a cape.

airports bring out the worst in people

I’m back in God’s Favorite State. It was a very good business trip this week, but I’m tired. Yesterday we left the hotel just after 7:30 AM. I walked in my front door at 1:23 AM this morning. If my math is right that is around an 18 hour day that included the unpleasantness that is flying and airports these days. The only saving grace is the late flight was not full and the middle seat next to me was open. To round out the experience was a conference call at 8AM this morning. Yay, me. 

I always point to weeks like this when people say they wish they had a job like mine. 

Don’t let me fool you. I like my job. I like travel. I like the life on the road. Just never confuse vacation travel with business travel. 

Gas was $5.09 in Maryland. Thanks Brandon. We are pushing Jimmah Carter levels of inflation, but at least we don’t have mean tweets. Experts predict $6 gas by Independence  Day. That is more than double the price before Biden became President. Obama blamed everything on Bush. Biden blames it all on Putin. Seems like things go to crap when we have a Democrat in charge. I think I know who to blame, even if the President doesn’t. 

While I’m giving Democrats their deserved bashing, how do all of you who propagated the lie that  Georgia’s voting law was  “Jim Crow on steroids” explain how more people in Georgia are early voting than ever? Yes, I know, no mean tweets. 

I’m sorry I don’t have any amusing stories or anecdotes from this trip. It was all pretty routine this time. That is a good thing.

Charming my way through charm city

 Hola, I haven’t forgotten you. I am back on the road for the first time in a while and busy is the word. I had a hard time connecting to the internet from the hotel last night and a late business dinner this evening. 

I can mark a new city off my list. I do not think I have been to Baltimore previously, other than the airport BWI to connect. Now I can say I have. I’ve seen nothing that makes me say “Wow”, nor has it been unpleasant. I have also been calling on really Big Customer pit in the suburbs, so...

We had a busy day of meetings today and more tomorrow. I have a very late flight home, so I’ll be looking at a 16 or 17 hour day tomorrow that follows today’s 13 hour day and yesterday’s 14 hour day. I know Thursday will be full of already scheduled conference calls, so maybe I’ll knock off early Friday afternoon. 

Man, I bet you are thrilled you stopped by to read this. 

Just a little exercise

What if every time you see the word “abortion” it was replaced with “kill a baby”? Would your attitude change?

Something to think about as 49 out of 50 Democrat Senators just voted for the ability to “abort” right up to the moment of birth.  

Yes, they really did. 

She helped me with my suitcase

The sky is clear and a color the folks at Binny & Smith call “sky blue” for a reason. The trees are a deep green and so is the grass. It is too early for the neighborhood to echo with the sound of lawnmowers and trimmers, but it will not be long, my house included. Life in the ‘burbs moves apace. 

The maple is dropping seed pod helicopters and the wife is starting her annual rant that we should “cut down that tree”. Her hatred is unreasonable. I made the mistake of telling her a few years ago if the helicopters bothered her so much she should go rake them up. She asked why the neighbors’ yards are not littered with “those brown things”? I pointed out the neighbors don’t have maple trees in their front yard. 

It is weird how two important women in my life had the same hatred for maple seed pods - my grandmother and my wife. Grandma used to make me pick up every helicopter before I could mow. The wife wants me to, but I won’t do it. 

We need to drag out the power washer and clean away the winter filth from the porch and patio. Maybe we can get it in before some expected afternoon pop-up thundershowers. 

I’m heading off to see Big Customer tomorrow. That means a few days of wearing dress clothes and real shoes. The button down shirt and Dockers are fine. The shoes mean I will be in pretty good pain and likely limping around by noon. So it goes. I’m going to have to break down and have another surgery, I guess. I really, really do not want to. It is 50/50 at this point which I dread more, the every day pain or the six to eight weeks immobilized (with no guarantees that will fix the problem). Maybe in the fall. 

Have a great Sunday.

You Know a Melody Can Move Me

Last night after supper I moseyed out to the patio to enjoy the warm spring evening. I lit a cigar and turned on some music. I had an unopened book on my lap. Robins flew from branch to ground to branch in a flurry of activity. A bunny shot across the yard to hide behind the hostas. The crab apples were in blossom and I could just make out the scent of the-just-starting-to-bloom lilacs behind me. 

Jet contrails etched the sky as I tried out my new Monkey ashtray  I bought last month because it was cheap and amusing. As classic rock played in the background, my worries and cares drifted into the evening sky with the smoke from the stogie. I was content for the first time in a long while. I offered a silent prayer of thanks. 

The search for El Dorado

The wife was messing around on her iPad doing whatever she does. I was watching the Duke in El Dorado. Around 10:30 she said she was going upstairs and I told her she could watch whatever on the TV because I’ve seen the movie like forty times. She laughed and said she was tired and that she’s even seen that movie. 

It’s hard to believe the cast is filled with Oscar winners, Emmy winners and Academy Award nominees. But it is an entertaining movie, especially that Maudie.

Biden isn’t even mentioned

Since I have written more than 7,300 posts it is clear I cannot remember all of the wit, charm, politics, jokes, and nonsense I have posted to the interwebz. I am always struck on the occasion I go through the archives and run across something that makes me say Urkel-like “Did I write that?”. Usually, it is because the piece is cringeworthy. Occasionally, it is something slightly better than mediocre. Here is a piece I do not even remotely remember from back in 2007. With a lot of editing and re-work it wouldn’t be awful:

April 8, 2007
A Day at the Beach

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time Travelin’

 Here is an old one I published back in 2008:

It's the summer of 1957 and Harold goes to pick up his date, Peggy Sue. Harold's a pretty hip guy with his own car and a duck tail hairdo. 

When he goes to the front door, Peggy Sue's mother answers and invites him in. 

"Peggy Sue's not ready yet, so why don't you have a seat?" Peggy Sue's 
mother asks Harold what they're planning to do. 

Harold replies politely that they will probably just go to the malt shop or to a drive-in movie. 

Peggy Sue's mother responds, "Why don't you kids go out and screw? I hear all the kids are doing it." 

Naturally this comes as quite a surprise to Harold and he says, "Whaaaat?" 

"Yes," says Peggy Sues mother, "We know Peggy Sue really likes to screw; why, she'd screw all night if we let her!" 

Harold's eyes light up and he smiles from ear to ear. Immediately, he has revised the plans for the evening. 

A few minutes later, Peggy Sue comes downstairs in her little poodle skirt with her saddle shoes, and announces that she's ready to go. 

Almost with breathless anticipation, Harold escorts his date out the front door while Mom is saying, "Have a good evening kids," with a small wink for Harold.

About 20 minutes later, a thoroughly disheveled Peggy Sue rushes back into the house, slams the door behind her and screams at her mother: 

"Dammit, Mom! It's the Twist! It's called The Twist!"