Next week starts a new season…

 

Knock Knock

 Who is there?:

You did ask nicely

 What?

Sure, I’ll post up some Blind Faith:

Grab a a Kleenex

Blogging will take a backseat for the next several days. It is just the way it is. Not only am in a funk creativity-wise, I’m buried at work. 

I hate it and you are likely fighting tears of outrage and disappointment. We will both survive.

No, I’m not about to drop some Gloria Gaynor on you. 

I will give the gift of Pure Prairie League though:

Supporting the LGBT Cause

 I have gone from indifferent to a supporter.

Pointless

Three words: stupid time change. Four words: stupid unnecessary time change. 

How about some classic country music to salve our anger? There is a lesson in this song.  

The stuff you see

Sometimes a pictures does not tell a story, it takes words. That picture over on the right is just such a case. It was a hurried snapshot taken from the back seat of a Buick van hurtling down a Chinese highway at seventy-plus mph. 

We are driving along and I’m watching the un-scenic scenery whiz by. Suddenly our driver shouts something in Chinese and starts laughing. 

He points at the white SUV in front of us and puts hands together moving them apart and together like an alligator mouth, making an ahnk, ahnk noise. The driver grabbed his phone and took a picture.

It only took me a second to grab my phone as well. Go ahead, embiggen the picture. That is, indeed, a couple of bags filled with ducks hung from the back of the car. Yes, they are alive. The one on the left had his head poked out watching the same un-scenic scenery I was viewing. 

Hey, if I need to take a couple of ducks into town I’d be reluctant to let them loose inside my car. Duck poop is, well, fowl. Ingenuity is not a unique American trait. 

That was the funniest, best part of my trip.

Notes From My Field Trip

 

2024 Guangde, China

On the surface, China is modern. Their highway system is wide, smooth, efficient. The cars are modern and sport badges you recognize: BMW, Benz, Toyota, GM, Ford., Nissan.

Construction cranes dot the skyline building high rises everywhere you look. 

Citizens wear fashionable western clothing, often name brands. 

Then you remember often these name brands are knock-offs or made to a different standard than you might buy in Germany or Ohio. 

You forget the wealthy live really, really well, while the poor are really, really poor. If you think there is a wealth gap here, take a gander at the average Chinese factory worker compared to middle management vs the owner class. 

Factory workers spend the day at their desk if they are office workers or at their machine in the factory wearing heavy coats because the factory is not heated. I had to wear my coat the whole time I was there to keep warm. 

China looks like a modern western country on the surface and women have a hole in the floor for bathroom facilities. 

I remember my visit to Beijing back in 2013 or 2014. I stayed in a modern western hotel (Sheraton?) a few blocks from the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square. As we left in our little bus to tour the Great Wall, we passed a government building hosting some ministry or another. The building was gorgeous. The boulevard we were on was wide and one-way. We circled the block to head the opposite direction. The back of the building was a contrast to the facade. Rust streaks ran down the walls from falling gutters. Stonework was crumbling, trash made unsightly piles against the walls. 

That is China, it looks great on he surface but is a crumbling third world country behind the fancy exterior.

The people are kind and funny and hard working. They want what we all want, security and a better life for their children. The people are not their government. 

burn,baby, burn

Today we salute Caresse Crosby, publisher, socialite, and inventor. Was her invention a great thing or the bane of society? That is not for me to say, I have never used it. I have fought to get it unlocked, and have found it frustrating. I leave it to you to decide if she is a hero or not.

This post is why my content is free

Looks at the blinking cursor. Uh...frowns. Do not write about the weather. Does anyone care why I spent the day at various doctors Monday? Not really. Are there any interesting stories from my trip behind the Bamboo Curtain? Nope, I worked pretty much the whole time. No sightseeing at all beyond what I saw from a car window — buildings and highways and manufacturing plants. Pizza for dinner last night, who cares? Politics, I think 37 years of blogging leaves no confusion about where I stand. 

You know what this means, right? Yes music!

It hate to question the integrity of Dick Clark, but no mics on the singers. The guitar is not plugged in. There is a piano, but no organ. No bass. No drums. I suspect lip syncing  is involved.

Patience

I'm still trying to get caught up. Patience please.

We’ve Got to Quit Meeting Like This

I’m considering getting out the smoker and doing some BBQ today. It is going to be an exceptional spring day here in Hoosierdom. We shall see. If I had that new pellet smoker I wanted for Christmas it would be a sure thing; smoked something would be on the dinner table this evening. 

There are four guys on the industrial sales team where I work. My boss went with me to China, so half of the team was in the Dallas airport Friday night. As we cleared customs, my boss checked his messages. He chuckled and told me another of our team just happened to be connecting through Dallas from Mexico that same exact time time. We had a long layover, so wandered over to the B Terminal for an informal 3/4 of the team meeting. 

Travel is strange like that. Once one of my former Boy Scouts from when I was an Assistant Scout Master sat across the aisle from me on a trip to Portland, Oregon. We have run into people my wife knows from Indiana multiple times while on vacation in Florida. I met my buyer and his quality manager from one of my big customers once in the business class lounge at the Shanghai airport. We were on the same flights back to Indy. 

Life is sometimes strange and wonderful.

Back Home Again, in Indiana

I rolled into the driveway just before 2am local time. It was a 31 hour day, with maybe less than an hour’s sleep (doze is probably a better word). Two days like that in six makes your body confused. It was the longest March first I have experienced. 

I woke up at around 6:00 in the morning in Shanghai. Did emails, showered, and ate breakfast. I then goofed off, read, and did work: the paying kind. I met up with my boss for coffee. I worked a little more, going over some data with him.

We headed to the airport a little after 1:00 pm. It is still March first. We stood in a massive line to check into our flight. Went through Chinese customs. Then security. We ate a light and late lunch and finally boarded the flight to Dallas. It was 6:00 pm on March first. We flew and flew. I watched a movie. Ate. Watched another movie. Tried to sleep without success. I looked for and tried to watch the worst movie ever. I finally dozed a little. At some point we crossed the International date line somewhere near the Alaska / Russia border. That means it is now...March First. We keep on flying. I hate my airline seat. We eat again. I read. I finish one book and started another. Breakfast is served. We arrive at Dallas. It is March first. By the time I clear customs, go back through security (I know it doesn’t make sense). It is near 6:00pm on March f-ing first. 

I’m in the same position, sitting in a airport gate waiting area at six PM on March first on the same day. I know, it’s quickly getting TLDR. I boarded another plane around 8:30. My butt has become allergic to airplane seats. I squirm in discomfort the entire flight. Got to Indy just before midnight on March first. Yes, it was a 30 hour March first.  The plane is delayed on the tarmac for about twenty minutes. I rode the bus to the airport economy lot, found my car. I forgot I need to get gas. Said bad words I will not repeat. Ultimately got home around 1:45 am on what now was finally March second. 

I’ve heard so many times: I wish I had your job, that travel seems like fun. You think?

What? Yes the trip was fine. It was cold and wet, in the thirties and forties. More on that later. 

You don’t want me to go back to boring weather reports do you? Let me save a little blog fodder.

well that took a dark turn

By the time you read this I should be ensconced within a flying tube winging my way eastward across the Pacific. I write should because I really have no idea if I am flying home or not. 

No, I’m neither drunk nor on drugs. You may or may not know google is banned in the People’s Republic of China. That means no blogging on the blogger platform without jumping through many VPN hoops. Since I don’t blog on the company computer, this entire post was written, wrapped, and canned before I ever left home. 

If you are a person who looks for the dark side of any situation, I might have died in a fiery crash on the way over to the Worker’s Paradise.  A number of calamities may have struck while transversing the country. I might have been delayed in returning home on schedule. That happened to me the last time I was in China. I was asked to stay an extra five days so I could hand carry samples back. These things happen. 

Maybe I will post tomorrow. Maybe I won’t. If you read in the paper of a downed airplane on the Indy-Dallas-Shanghai-Dallas-Indy loop, well then....

That took a dark turn. I have no concern about flying. I should post on Saturday. Live posts, not the canned crap you have been getting all week. 

Okay, maybe it will be Sunday before I post again. I will not get home until we’ll past midnight Friday/Saturday. Fighting jet lag and the 12 hour time difference will leave me wiped out Saturday. 

You might notice I did not post anything about the weather. That’s because I cannot tell you with accuracy what the weather will be a week or more in advance. The weather forecasters cannot either. I 

don’t have the right crystal ball for that. I guess those magic weather balls are all in the hands of leftist climateers. They claim to know about the weather five, ten, or even fifty years in the future. 

Sorry, if this is my last post I gotta end with a poke at the lefties who are ruining life for freedom loving Americans. 😎

You probably shouldn’t be roaming the interwebz at work anyway

 One evening a man was at home watching TV and eating peanuts.

He’d toss them in the air, then catch them in his mouth.

In the middle of catching one, his wife asked a question, and as he turned to answer her, a peanut fell in his ear.

He tried and tried to dig it out but succeeded in only pushing it in deeper.

He called his wife for assistance, and after hours of trying they became worried and decided to go to the hospital.

As they were ready to go out the door, their daughter came home with her date.

After being informed of the problem, their daughter’s date said he could get the peanut out.

The young man told the father to sit down, then shoved two fingers up the father’s nose and told him to blowhard.

When the father blew, the peanut flew out.

The mother and daughter jumped and yelled for joy.

The young man insisted that it was nothing and the daughter brought the young man out to the kitchen for something to eat.

Once he was gone the mother turned to the father.

The mother said,

“That’s wonderful. Isn’t he smart? What do you think he’s going to be when he grows older?!”

The father replies

“From the smell of his fingers, our son-in-law!”

Everywhere I look

 

And boys

They were fast as lightning

 

Hinting Around

 

She helped me with my suitcase

 

Some beautiful music for a Sunday morning.

A process of maturation

It doesn’t happen often. I deleted a long screed right before publishing. It was the kind of rant that was commonplace in these pages in the past. Those kind of posts engendered lots of comments. In some cases they were popular. It may be what draws you here still, looking for a political or cultural opinion. Forty-seven years of blogging here is proof positive I am often willing to throw my thoughts out there and live with the ramifications. Sometimes, I have learned, it is not worth it. Could I be finally growing up when I’m just weeks short of my...let me do the math...62 birthday? 

Or have I become a coward? 

Let me summarize the post like this: if everything is racist, nothing is. I will leave it at that. 

For the record, this is a fresh post, not prewritten days or weeks ago. As proof, there is a dusting of snow outside. I couldn’t know that in advance, could I? Keep that in mind this week. 

Am I the only one who who finds it disturbing Frank is singing a love song with his daughter? 

Happy Saturday.

Contacting Customer Service

Happy Friday, blogateers. I have been buried in work, the paying kind, so my efforts here have been somewhat sparse. Send me a self-addressed envelope and I will return the unused portion of this week’s subscription fee. I’m all about customer service. 

Sure, we block pretty much every unknown number here at our one hundred percent American call center, but your call is important. Sorry, due to the high volume of calls your wait time may be longer than usual. Please leave a message and I will return your call at my earliest convenience.The best way to contact me is to send an email that does not get caught in my spam filter. It is probably best not to use that silly hot mail email address I remember to check about once every two months to reach me. Try this number instead: 867-5309. Ask for Jenny.

Been there...

 An elderly couple were sitting outdoors at a cafe when they noticed an old man who seemed to be having trouble crossing the street with an ungainly shuffle.

The man said to his wife, “He surely has bad arthritis to walk like that.”

His wife replied, “No, that’s definitely old time rheumatism.”

They couldn’t agree so the man decided to ask the old man.

He walked over to him and said,

“Excuse me, sir, but my wife and I saw you having difficulty crossing the street and I told her that you have arthritis but she insisted that you have rheumatism.

Which one of us was wrong?”

The old man said, “The three of us were wrong.”

“Three of us were wrong? How so?” asked the man.

To which the old man replied,

“You were wrong when you said I had arthritis, your wife was wrong when she said I had rheumatism, and I was wrong when I thought I just had to pass gas.”

I want you, I need you

We were at Walmart last evening picking up some stuff. I tried to convince my wife we needed a new TV. I want bigger, better, fancier. The one I chose wasn’t even that expensive, relatively speaking. 

In truth, even had she told me to buy it, I wouldn’t have. She is far more likely to buy stuff than I am. I go into wallet seizure at the idea of spending hundreds at a time for anything. Our current TV works fine, is really big enough for the room - it’s not tiny at 55”. And while I would like a 4K picture, our screen is pretty good. 

It’s all about want vs. need. 

Boy, the picture on that TV was nice. *

*During one of my periods out of work about a decade ago, I worked at Best Buy. I know how the manufacturers and store feed a far better picture into the TVs than you can get at home. 

More Weekend, Please

Here we are, another Monday. I am part of the workforce who does not get President’s Day off. It is probably a good thing, based on repeated “bings” on my phone  alerting me to work emails last evening and night. 

I binged the Martin Scorsese documentary about George Harrison on Max yesterday. Harrison is my favorite Beatle. He lacked the vanity of McCartney and the narcissism of Lennon. Frankly, his solo music was far better than anything put out by the others in their solo careers. 

Here is a semi-non sequitur true anecdote. I was in London when George Harrison died. I bought a copy of London Times that day. I left it laying on the desk in my hotel room. 

If you have an HBO Max subscription, the movie is well worth your time, especially the part with Ringo Starr at the end. 

History in song. Sort of.

Time to lighten things up. I was perusing the interwebz while listening to classic country music on the super spy smart speaker on my desk just now when a song came on I’ve never heard. Ever. 

Who knew? 

Yes, by the sausage guy. 

PS. If you bought my book or even got it free last month, leave me a review on Amazon. Even a bad review is welcomed. We can only improve when our shortcomings are recognized. Of course if you found it reminiscent of early Hemingway, you can tell me that too!😎

I Keep My Eyes Wide Open All the Time

We got the first real measurable snowfall of winter yesterday. By the end we probably got on the plus side of five inches of the white stuff. 

The roads were a little slick until the plows got out, but it wasn’t a big deal in the end. I went out around 8PM and shoveled the driveway and sidewalks. Mostly it as a big ho hum snow event.

For Capital City just to my south, it is a big deal. After a fairly mild winter — it hit the sixties last week — they have this snow on the weekend the city is hosting the NBA All-Star game. So it goes. Not that I really care. I do not suppose I have watched an NBA game in twenty years. 

I’m not a lawyer. I haven’t stayed in a Holiday Inn Express for a couple of years.* Can someone, anyone explain just what Trump did to get fined hundreds of millions of dollars by that New York judge? Oh, I know they claim he overstated the value of his collateral. But here’s the thing, Trump took the loans, he paid the loans on time, the banks gave the loans and got back their principle and interest. Everybody won. Everybody made money. The banks even testified they agreed with the stated value. How is there a crime without a victim? 

If I go to the bank and demand a $2 million dollar mortgage for my little hovel, no banker in the world is going to lend me that kind of cash, no matter how good or poor my credit rating is, without doing some serious evaluation of my assets and collateral. Even a pawn shop looks up the value of an item before they give a loan. 

No matter what you think of Trump, and there is plenty to dislike, you have to objectively look at this skeptically. Especially when the prosecutor vowed as an election promise she was going to get Trump for something, anything. The trial next month is equally specious. There was an uproar yesterday when Putin’s main challenger died in prison, many arguing he was prosecuted for political reasons. I’m not sure I see a lot of difference in what Democrat partisans are doing to Trump. It all started with the Russia collusion farce, and hasn’t stopped. 

Again, I would vote for almost anyone with the right politics over Trump. But recent events sure have a distinct Banana Republic feel to them.

Look, your opinion may vary. Tell me in the comments. You will be wrong, but I’ll read what you have to say. 

*There used to be an adverting campaign where people could do extraordinary things after staying in a Holiday Inn Express. 
 

it is supposed to snow today

Today is my mom’s birthday. She would have been 84. I miss my mom. I got my dry sense of humor from her. As a youth, my sloppiness, lack of organization, and general lackadaisical attitude must have driven her insane. She loved me unconditionally anyway. 

She once typed up a saying, had it laminated, and stuck it on my bulletin board in my room. It read:

If a task is once begun, never leave it ‘till it’s done. Be the labor great or small, do it well, or not at all.

Clearly,  I needed that lesson driven into my thick stubborn skull if she went to that much trouble to help me. The fact I still remember that poem is a tribute to her efforts. These days I never leave a project to the last minute if I can help it. The boss never has to follow up on a task he has assigned me. 

When my mother died, I posted a semi-eulogy here. Everything in it was true, but I didn’t explain clearly that while my mom was a perfectionist of the highest order, she possessed a tremendous capacity for love. 

While I frequently disappointed her, Mom always helped me out of a tight spot. 

Mom loved my kids and doted on her great-granddaughters. I’m not sure anyone grieved more when my grandson passed away. 

I miss you mom. Happy Birthday.

makes me want to just let my SUV idle for an hour or two.

Climate activists pour red powder on the case holding the original US Constitution at the National Archives in Washington DC. For now, it's unclear if the document was damaged, but they were allowed to go about their protest for a time without arrest. pic.twitter.com/8ubR60obsn

— Ian Miles Cheong (@stillgray) February 14, 2024

WTH? Climate assholes threw a pink powder all over the case housing the Constitution. These terrorists deface a national treasure and the security guards LET THEM. Why weren’t these assholes thrown to the floor and cuffed the instant they started throwing whatever? And why are we letting them rant? For goodness sake, the so-called guards are more interested in getting everyone else out, but not the f-ing CRIMINALS, 

What’s the difference between these dirtbags and the people who invaded the Capital on January 6?

I swear I live in a different world. I would have tackled these little pieces of shit myself, if the guards will not, 

Spit. I going to throw a few plastic straws in the trash, use a plastic bag at the store, and find some coal to burn in my fire pit. Screw the climateers.

In the air

 Happy Hallmark Valentines Day. 

Here’s some appropriate music:

soon

 

Pitchers and catchers report this week.  We are still six weeks from meaningful games, but Baseball season is coming.

maybe later

Bippity bopity boo, I have no post for you.

Change of Pace

 

January 2024

Instead of nonsensical rambling, how about a picture of a January sunrise from my backdoor?

What I really need is a quality ghostwriter

Sinatra is playing softly in the background as I type one-fingered on the iPad. Yesterday was gorgeous. It was sunny and warm, almost spring-like. Today, still warm, but cloudy. 

Look, I get it. I agree. Why in the world would you care about my weather? Unless you live here in Mudsock, the weather report is meaningless drivel, a filler, a lazy start. “How’s the weather?” is not even a good icebreaker in real conversation, why would I constantly fall on that old trope to start nearly every post for nineteen years? 

I wish I could promise to stop leading with meaningless weather reports. It probably won’t change. 

Look at that, talking about talking about the weather filled up another worthless post. We all win! 

Time for musical roulette. Checking my music library on shuffle, this is the next tune. Wow! This is a departure from the usual fare. How can you not dig this old tune? I am pretty sure I saw this on Hee Haw. I must have.

You might not have heard, there hasn’t been much news about it, there is a football game tomorrow. 

Sadly, reading this blog is very much like having a conversation with me. Except I have a south-of-seventy nasal midwestern twang and a slight lateral S lisp I cover pretty well. I don’t have a voice for radio nor a face for television. I guess I’m perfectly suited for anonymous blogging. 

fighting against fame and fortune

It is finally Friday and it looks to be a good one, weather-wise. I can see blue skies and a scary fireball-like thing in the sky I vaguely remember seeing sometime late last year. It is supposed to get into the 60s later. Maybe I’ll play hooky and try to have a cigar this afternoon. Unless work interferes. These things happen. 

I was sitting here thinking. If laziness  ever becomes an Olympic sport I will try for fourth place. I don’t want to have to climb up on that winners podium. 

Yeah, I stole that. You can too. 

I got my picture for my passport renewal the other day. The youngest granddaughter looked at it and promptly said “You look old.” Thanks kid. 

I may look old, but at least no prosecutor has told me I’m too old and senile to prosecute. That proclamation may be worse for Biden politically than a criminal charge. Biden did not help himself in his angry rambling televised rebuttal. He mixed up Mexico and Egypt. 

I suppose both countries have pyramids, so it might be understandable. 

No, not really. 

How about some Friday music?

Hah! Not today.

Dear Neighbor(s)

It is February 8th. It is time to unplug your Christmas lights. It’s cold, so you don’t have to take them down, but you can unplug those lights that are half burnt out. You can let the air out of the blow up Santa. 

You can use the lights again next year. There is no requirement to leave them on until they burn out. 

It’s okay. 

On the road again

I’m up early this morning. I have to hit the road in a bit. That was a regular phrase in past days around here. Now, not so much. Where I used to travel several days a week, now it is more like several days a year. Today's trip will be a quick jaunt to Chicago and back. The term “quick” is relative anytime you have to deal with Chicagoland traffic. This time I’m heading right downtown to the loop, so I will also have to deal with parking. Even worse, once I arrive I will have to deal with government officials to get an emergency passport renewal. I pray for patience. 

I don’t mind traveling, but I cannot say I miss it. I’ve been all over the world and the US, but at some point it is another hotel room on the industrial side of town. It is another fast food lunch or dinner by myself in a nondescript chain restaurant. 

I really do not miss flying. If I never stepped foot in an airport again I would be content. I’ve flown in the neighborhood of one thousand flights. That is fewer than some road warriors, more than most people. I’ve spent more hours in the Charlotte, Philadelphia, and Portland airports than you can imagine. Let’s not even discuss the abominations that are O’Hare or the New York area airports. Alas, I’ll be flying again at the end of the month. So it goes.

Lest you think this is a big complaint fest, I have loved my life on the road. I like driving in the car by myself as the asphalt sings under my tires, watching the corn and bean fields pass through my windshield. The small towns and highways are the true heart of America. The interstate gets me where I need to be quickly. It gets me through the cities with the least hassle. It is the lonely old US Highways and state routes that call me. That, I miss. 

But I really like being home for supper with my wife every night. 

I expect you to support me

 

We all get hosed again, but not Ukraine

The Senate has rolled out their joke of a Border Bill. The entire first part of the bill has nothing to do with protecting the border, it is about giving more money to Ukraine, which tells us all the true priority. It is essential to protect Ukraine’s border. Ours, not so much. 

This bill still allows 1500 5,000 illegals  to enter a day. Every day. If they are a “family” then they don’t count to the numbers. Then the border can only be closed  under this emergency act so many days a year, starting at 200+ and declining down to 180 days total in three years, when the entire bill sunsets. You are still looking at 300,000 beaucoup illegals entering every month. That’s nearly  THREE MILLION  TWO MILLION ILLEGALS a year for my fellow math challenged history majors.

The only court that can litigate the bill is the ultra-liberal and open borders favorable DC Federal Court. 

Finally, the President can override the provisions at will. Yes, he can just say, “nope” and the border remains open. 

In other words, this so-called border enhancement bill is worthless. It does nothing but send money to Ukraine. 

The stupid Republicans in the Senate will vote for it and the American taxpayers and citizens will get screwed yet again by our corrupt, feckless representatives. 

Spit.

If you think this bill is great, I recommend you live the open border concept personally:

And not a word I heard could I relate

Some friends came to visit last evening. We met for a sandwich and then we came back to our house. We played some cards, ate way too many snacks and generally had a good time. I’m sure the wife welcomed an opportunity to have a conversation with someone over the age of nine who was not me. 

Sorry. I got sidetracked for a bit while I was thinking about something else. I did not mean to leave you like that. 

It is supposed to warm to around fifty Fahrenheit today. I can see frost on the neighbor’s roofs, so it is a cold start to the day. 

There is no football today, so I have to find something else to do. My cousin asked me to send her family history slash genealogy information I have. I think I will do some scanning this afternoon. 

Sounds real exciting, doesn’t it? Next week I might watch paint dry.

We’ve done hippy music, jazz, and country. How about some rock music? [you do understand that was rhetorical? You have no choice in the matter]. If there was a top ten list of my favorite songs this would surely make the list. Of course my list would change every time I thought of a new song. I have nearly one thousand songs on my phone, for goodness sake.  I dig every one of them. 

Anyway:

Round about ten we all got to talking

I had an idea for a post when I went to bed. It was still there when I woke up this morning. Somewhere between making coffee and reading a few blogs the notion went poof! into the graveyard of good ideas. 

Sometimes life works that way. 

Do not be too sad, you got six posts yesterday. 

We’ve done some hippy music and some jazz. How about some country?

Seize the day with an iron grip

 Happy Groundhog Day.

Here we find ourselves on a Friday, awake and ready to seize the day. I suspect you clicked here first thing as you entered the interwebz to see what words of wisdom, what pearls of humor, what political insight I brought forth this morning. You will not be disappointed.

Unless you expected any of that. Have you not been reading here of late? What were you thinking? 

As an alternative, get your jazz fix:

I will admit this is pretty much the only jazz tune I can stomach. 

Seize the day with an iron grip

 Here we find ourselves on a Friday, awake and ready to seize the day. I suspect you clicked here first thing as you entered the interwebz to see what words of wisdom, what pearls of humor, what political insight I brought forth this morning. You will not be disappointed.

Unless you expected any of that. Have you not been reading here of late? What were you thinking? 

As an alternative, get your jazz fix:

I will admit this is pretty much the only jazz tune I can stomach. 

Seize the day with an iron grip

 Here we find ourselves on a Friday, awake and ready to seize the day. I suspect you clicked here first thing as you entered the interwebz to see what words of wisdom, what pearls of humor, what political insight I brought forth this morning. You will not be disappointed.

Unless you expected any of that. Have you not been reading here of late? What were you thinking? 

As an alternative, get your jazz fix:

I will admit this is pretty much the only jazz tune I can stomach. 

Seize the day with an iron grip

 Here we find ourselves on a Friday, awake and ready to seize the day. I suspect you clicked here first thing as you entered the interwebz to see what words of wisdom, what pearls of humor, what political insight I brought forth this morning. You will not be disappointed.

Unless you expected any of that. Have you not been reading here of late? What were you thinking? 

As an alternative, get your jazz fix:

I will admit this is pretty much the only jazz tune I can stomach. 

Seize the day with an iron grip

 Here we find ourselves on a Friday, awake and ready to seize the day. I suspect you clicked here first thing as you entered the interwebz to see what words of wisdom, what pearls of humor, what political insight I brought forth this morning. You will not be disappointed.

Unless you expected any of that. Have you not been reading here of late? What were you thinking? 

As an alternative, get your jazz fix:

I will admit this is pretty much the only jazz tune I can stomach. 

Seize the day with an iron grip

Here we find ourselves on a Friday, awake and ready to seize the day. I suspect you clicked here first thing as you entered the interwebz to see what words of wisdom, what pearls of humor, what political insight I brought forth this morning. You will not be disappointed.

Unless you expected any of that. Have you not been reading here of late? What were you thinking? 

As an alternative, get your jazz fix:

I will admit this is pretty much the only jazz tune I can stomach. 

Get Your Hippy On

 

Wherein I Just Complain

It happens a lot this time of year, in recent years anyway: I lose all interest in blogging. In ‘21 I quit for most of January. It seems my writer’s block has extended even to this piece o’crap blog. 

Edit: I erased several hundred words complaining about boredom, blah, blah. How about I tell you I got nuthin’ today and we leave it at that? 

More Edit: Read This . Fuzzy writes what I should, if I was not so lazy. Except he writes it with far more erudition than I ever could. 

F Joe Biden

 What he said

I know you don’t click links, you need to here. 

Ignore my previous post, it was just filler. 

This is a question we should all ask. Biden says he will shut down the border as soon as he gets funding for Ukraine. Of which country is Biden President? 

Let’s go Brandon, indeed.

Monday again

I fried up some chicken for dinner last night. Mashed spuds and gravy and some corn rounded out the meal. To be honest, I am not overly fond of chicken. My wife’s mother made the best fried chicken. The wife says mine is pretty close. I do like making and eating mashed potatoes and gravy. I have a definite weakness for potatoes. That is not good for my diabetes, that is for sure. 

I discovered my drivers license expires in March. Not only do I need a new passport,  now that needs renewed as well. I suspect m going to need new glasses before the eye test. It’s always something. 

How about some music to get your day started? 

You don’t really have a choice.

My goodness this is pure tripe. Not the tune, the post. 

Sorry.

Things you find in old posts

I have to be honest, I have no recollection of writing this. According to a response I made to the comments, the story came to me in a dream the previous night. Please ignore the punctuation errors.

January 12, 2013

Christmas dreams

It was just a few days before Christmas.  The kids were all gathered on the carpet for story time. You could feel the electric energy in the room. Some were literally bouncing on their little bottoms. Nearly every one was bursting to shout out the answer to the question I had just asked. 

"Tell me what you want for Christmas.” Nineteen kindergarten-sized hands shot into the air, and as usual, Billy could not wait to be called on and blurted out his desire for an iPod.  McKenzie said she wanted a red sparkly sweater. Jorge wanted a dog.

Callie waited until almost last. She announced in a small voice that she and her Mom just want an ordinary life. 

"An ordinary life?" I asked 

"Yeah." I could barely hear her. "A mom, a dad, a house, a car. Food to eat. A plastic armadillo."

Life has been tough in this west Texas town. The foundry closed two years ago.  The drought wiped out the cotton crop.  Almost every one of my students got free lunch and breakfast from Government assistance. More than half came from broken homes. Two lived with their grandparents. Three had at least one parent in jail.

After Callie spoke there was silence for a few minutes as the little minds thought about it. Billy raised his hand. For the first time all year he waited on me to call on him. "Mrs. Simon, can I change my wish?"

"Sure Billy.”

"I don't want an iPod anymore, I want an ordinary life".  Echoes of "me too" bounced off the wall as a dozen voices shouted out the same desire. McKenzie started crying. She only wanted a red sparkly sweater. I told her it was OK. 

I got home a little late that evening.  I stopped by store to grab some chicken for supper. I pulled into the drive. Most of last week's snow had melted leaving only gray and black lumps in shady places and along the edge of the gravel driveway. A plastic armadillo was in the yard.  Last summer they had appeared at WalMart and the little plastic rodent replicas were the yard decorating fad of the summer. 

I could see the Christmas tree through the living room window. My husband was smiling at me through the glass. I was pretty certain Emily and Tommy were watching Spongebob on the TV screen.  I felt a tear on my cheek as I realized all I really wanted for Christmas was my very ordinary life. 

A man has to know his limitations

 The coffee is hot. Classic rock plays softly in the background. The neighborhood houses are black lumps against a dark blue-gray sky. I rock slightly in the un-reclined recliner looking out the window at nothing.  It is cold, but not too cold outside. It is comfortable in the old office. 

I usually block off Saturday and Sunday mornings to write. Today, I’m in a lazy mood. I should sit at the computer and write. I don’t want to put in the work. I’ve hit a writers block wall of my own design in my latest novel. I ended the last chapter and started the current one with exposition, not action. I have stated that things happened, not described the happening, if that makes sense. 

For example, I might write that the basketball team lost a tough game in the State basketball tournament. I should describe the hot, sweaty, loud, raucous, competitive atmosphere of Hoosier Hysteria in the gym from the old days of single class basketball. The days when entire towns showed up on Friday night to see the team on the hardwood. I should write what the fans did, describe the smell of popcorn in the lobby, the sweat of the railroad worker crammed on the bench seat next to you. 

See what I mean? I wrote one sentence when I should have written a hundred words. By the same token, I write a hundred words when one sentence would suffice. It is the endless editing and rewriting that sucks the fun out of it. 

I know what I want to happen. I’m just too lazy to do the actual work. As the historian Barbara Tuchman once said, “research is endlessly seductive, writing is hard work.” I’m not talking the writing like here at the old blog, this is ridiculously easy. I sit and words flow stream of consciousness fashion right onto the electronic page. Narrative writing is difficult. I’m afraid I was only moderately successful in my first book. I learned from it. And to Tuchman’s point, since the current novel takes place in the past I am drawn and sucked in by the research. Do I really need to spend two hours researching the history of the Nickel Plate Railroad and the machinations of Jay Gould and the Vanderbilts? 

Oh, I know I can write prose. I can craft sentences that flow, that describe, that are easy to read. Writing an actual story, that is a completely different animal. There were a couple of passages in my first book I thought were good writing. There was also some complete crap. There are chapters and passages that do nothing to push along the narrative. I should have taken an figurative red pen and marked them with a big red X. 

None of this is compliment fishing. Rather, as Clint told us, “A man has to know his limitations.” I know mine. And a big one today is that I don’t want to do the hard work of writing. I think I’ll read a few blogs, then saunter off to watch something, anything on TV. 

I have questions

There are at least a dozen robins flying around and chirping in my front and back yards. Don’t robins fly south in the winter? Is spring here already? 

It is Friday, I’m not going to break my brain thinking about dumb birds. How about some music?

Perusing the Headlines

Let me see, PETA wants to replace Puxatawney Phil with a giant gold coin because the erstwhile groundhog is not an accurate weather forecaster and Groundhog Day is mean or something. PETA, huh? That reminds me to lay out some steaks for dinner.

In Canada, a fifty year-old man who identifies as a teen girl has joined a girl’s swim club and is competing. He is part of the team, sharing the locker rooms with girls as young as 13. Why any parent allows their kid to remain on that team is a mystery to me. Do these girls have dads? Are any of their mothers feminists? Has all logic and decency disappeared from Canuckistan?

The SCOTUS has determined Texas cannot enforce the border when Joe Biden will not. Now some Democrat Congressmen are urging Biden to nationalize the Texas National Guard to stop the Governor from securing the border. Read that again. Sitting US Congressmen, who swore to uphold the Constitution, are arguing for open, unfettered, illegal immigration. 

The NFL will feature the “Black National Anthem” before the Super Bowl. As far as I know, the Star Spangled Banner is the only National Anthem. What if a white-skinned player kneels during the Black National Anthem? Would he just be exercising his right to peaceful protest? I propose we play the Wabash College fight song before the Big Game. We can all get behind that.

I better stop. My blood pressure is rising. Is it too early to drink?

There is truth in the nonsense

 Ahhhooogha....Ahhhooogha...the fog horn sounds a mournful warning over Mudsock this morning. I can hear the lonely ship bells of the big freighters anchored in the icy White River cutting through the silence. Ding ding, ding ding as a warm breeze moves across the slowly thawing ground. It is still dark, only the neighbor’s porch lights cutting a weak yellow beam through the fog. 

I sip my coffee. The furnace kicks on to bring warmth to the blogroom. Soon I will fire up the old laptop and slave away at my desk as Bob Cratchet babbles away over the pitiful exploits of his family one desk over. Scratch, scratch. Why won’t Bob use a computer? 

Ahhhooogha.....Ahhhoooga....the foghorn sounds a mournful warning...

What? Do not push me. The Captain and Tennille are just a click away. I’ll do it, so help me...

Feeling Mean

It is raining. I have a headache. I’m feeling grumpy as a grizzly bear on a bender. 

Take that and like it.

Wide Right

Monday yet again. At least you aren’t the placekicker for Buffalo or Green Bay. They probably should make sure that everything is cleaned out of their locker when they go to the facility today. I doubt either will be back next season. 

We are expecting a big warm up this week, finally breaking the freezing mark for the first time in a couple of weeks. There is a chance of freezing rain overnight then a nice warm front. I’m sure that weather will herald the apocalypse for the global warming crowd. 

It occurs to me that Leftists may hate Christianity, but they do have their own version of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse : Climate Change, Racism, Homophobia, and Orange Man Bad. They insist we bow and repent with fervent belief as strong as any Christian Charismatic snake handler. Can I get an Amen?  

That is enough for what promises to be a cloudy wet start of the week. Stay strong. 

Have a nice trip

It looks like I’ll be heading back to Asia next month. I’m not sad about it, but I would be content to never go back too. Despite spending close to a month in China in various trips, I still can’t use chopsticks. I have some, I guess I need to practice before I go this time. It looks like this trip will last about a week. I won’t be able to blog, so I’ll try to put up some canned posts before I go. I suppose you won’t be able to tell the difference. 

What? You don’t believe me? Every single post* this week was prewritten, including this one. The actual time is 2;24 pm on 01/18/2024. 

Why yes, I have a burning need to be right. Why do you ask? 

I have to get my passport renewed ASAP. That probably means a trip to Chicago to walk it through in person. I know, it is all great, right? The good news is my Chinese visa is still good. 

How about some music?

*edit: except Friday’s effort.

Is it the red knobs that makes it valuable?

 

Sometimes you run across something on the interwebz that is so Mind-bending crazy you are left nearly stupefied with disbelief. 

Consider this four-slice toaster on Amazon. I’m sure it is a fine product, but it is a toaster. It cooks bread. That’s all it does. It is not made of gold or platinum. No artisan hand-forged the metal or inlaid delicate filigree like a Faberge Egg. We are talking 1920’s technology here. 

What I do find remarkable is not that a company is selling a $300 toaster, but rather that more than three hundred people actually bought one of these in the last month! I mean what were you thinking? 

Look, I’m not  judgemental. Well, maybe a little. Okay, often, but stick with me here. I may judge you by your politics, your face piercings, or your blue hair. How you spend your hard-earned money is your business. You work hard and want a sports car or a Bentley. Not my concern. If you want gold plated hardware in your bathroom, it is none of my business. If you collect guitars or guns, I say, whatever. 

If you buy a $300 toaster you are a blithering idiot. 

Picture This

I’m up early today. I don’t know why. I tossed and turned for about a half hour before I finally got up around four aye em. That’s okay. Maybe I will take a nap this afternoon. I worked a couple of 12 hour days earlier in the week. I planned on knocking off early today anyway.

It looks like we got about an inch of snow over night. A little more may yet accumulate. Another wave of arctic air is expected to follow this front bringing sub-zero temps yet again. I suspect it will be cold at your house too. 

In other news, the redecorating of the family room continues. You may remember— or not — I repainted the family room and kitchen in November. Maybe I did not mention it? I don’t know. I did paint it. The wife bought a new couch; more modern than her usual country look. Now we are updating the decor. I hung a new picture last evening above the couch. I did it right. I marked where she wanted the picture. I measured, leveled, and measured and leveled again. I put in the picture hooks. I rechecked my level. Measured again. Hung up the picture. Leveled again. Smiled proudly at the wife. 

“It’s crooked,” she says. I put the level on top of the frame. The bubble is dead in the middle of the lines. Ditto on the bottom of the frame. I even put the level on the sides of the picture to prove my point. “I don’t care what it says, it is higher on the left.” I told her it wasn’t and held out the level. “It looks crooked.” 

I go get a different level, in case gravity works better with the red one as opposed the blue one. Strangely enough, the picture is still level. “Maybe the ceiling is off?” She decides. 

“I can’t help you there,” I tell her. I grab the hammer. “Tell me what you want and I will do a ‘tap adjustment’ on the hook. But the picture is level,” I tell her. She frowns and stands to the side. She thinks it looks okay from an angle. 

I wonder if a level can be classified as a lethal weapon. 

We pushed the couch back in place. She frowns some more and decides that helps. “I guess it will be fine,” she declares. We all know what “Fine” means, right guys? 

I suspect I will rehang the picture sometime over the weekend magically trying to compensate for whatever she perceives as level, leveling my marks then putting the hanger 1/4 or 1/8 inch off of level. 

Note: It is quite possible the picture is crooked. Unlike my beautiful, lovely, perfect wife, I do not have a magic level in my eyeball. I depend on faulty mechanical bubble levels and gravity. 

Classics are always in fashion

 A few days ago we found an old straggly cat at our door.

She was a sorry sight. Starving, dirty, smelled terrible, skinny and hair all matted down. We felt sorry for the cat and put her in a carrier and took her to the vet.

She had no name so my we named her Pussycat.

The vet decided to keep her for a day or so and said he would let us know when we could come and get her.

My husband, [the complainer] said,

“OK, but don’t forget to wash her, she stinks.”

My husband and our vet don’t like each other.

He calls my husband El-cheap-O. My husband calls him El-Take-0. They love to hate each other.

Next day my husband had an appointment with his doctor, which was located next door to the vet.

The doctor’s office was full of people waiting to see the doctor.

A side door opened and in leaned the vet; he had obviously seen my husband arrive.

He looked straight at my husband,

“Your wife’s pussy is finally clean. She now smells like a rose. And by the way, I think she’s pregnant. God knows who the father is!”

And he closed the door.

How about that?

 I have no memory of writing this. 

January 9, 2016

Fire Burns Hot

When 008 walked into the party, more than just female heads turned to look at his handsome face. His broad shoulders and narrow hips were accented by the white dinner jacket and dark trousers. He was tall and had dark wavy hair. A pale scar accentuated his jaw line. He walked over to the bar and leaned next to his target, Viktor Kamchovski. The plump Russian was the chief financier of SMERSH. 008 stared Kamchovski in the eyes and introduced himself, "Bend, John Bend". The bartender wandered over and Bend pointed a strong finger at Kamchovski's glass. "I'll have what he is drinking...shaken, not stirred.”

The bartender looked confused for a moment and gave a slight shrug as he poured champagne into a glass and set it along with a bowl of pretzels next to Bend. 008 grabbed a handful of the thin pretzel sticks and leaned nonchalantly on the bar. A beautiful woman in a very low cut dress was walking towards him. Bend tossed a pretzel into his mouth with cool athletic grace.

The pretzel stuck sideways in the back of his throat. Bend started making hacking and small retching sounds. Viktor Kamchovski turned and stared. Bend was thrashing his tongue in a frantic effort to dislodge the pretzel. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish on a river bank. Bend stuck a finger down his throat and finally broke the pretzel. He also dislodged and broke open the tiny cyanide capsule cemented behind his molar.

He fell to the floor, writhing in agony. Kamchovski leaned over the gasping agent and tore open Bend's immaculate dinner jacket and tie. "Do...you...expect...me...to...talk?” John Bend struggled to whisper the words.

"No,” intoned the Russian. "I expect you to die.” He stated, as Bend's face turned purple. "Unless the paramedics get here very soon.” Kamchovski started chest compressions, but it was too late; 008 was dead.

On this date

Happy Birthday, Dad.

I miss you.

Free Stuff

 

This is a good week to get an ebook version of my debut novel from Amazon. Until January 19th, it will cost you nothing but the minimal effort of downloading it. 

That’s right, I’m offering it up for free. 

Just click This easy link to get your Free copy.

All I ask in return for this generosity is a review on Amazon. An honest review. If it’s crap say so. If you like it, ditto.

Act fast, supplies are limited, no coupon required, keep off the grass, no pets allowed,  do not fold, spindle, or mutilate, get it now, don’t miss out, little puppies and kittens depend on you. 

Did I mention FREE?  You can get the Kindle reading app free too!

If you're not into yoga

It’s cold. It probably is cold at your house too. How about something tropical?

Sometime in the past 24 hours I surpassed 1.5 million visits to this blog. I am certain that is small potatoes to many of you. I’m proud of it. It humbles me that even one person bothers to read my drivel. 

In truth, I probably passed that figure a long time ago. Blogger stats only go back to 2010, so the first five years of visits are lost. Some of those years were the blogging peak, before Facebook and such. Back in those wild days, I would get thousands of hits in a day. Of course, I worked at it a bit more too. A link from Acidman, GOC, Big Dick, or Bane  would set the statmeter spinning. In truth, one of you probably pushed my count past 2 million. 

So let this be an inadequate THANK YOU for stopping by. I appreciate it more than you can ever know. 

Come on Sugar let me know

I was “standing” in the hall bathroom bit after 4PM yesterday when power kicked off. I quickly finished, trying to maintain my aim in the dark, washed up, and went to check what was going on. First, I turned off he laptop since it was now running on battery mode. I looked across the street to see if the neighbors had power. It was not evident either way. I opened the electric company app and sure enough, their was a widespread power outage reported already. 

Wait? What did that say there in small print at he bottom of the outage report? Power was expected to be restored at 10:30 PM! I looked down at my right hand. Let’s see, 4:30 to 10:30...I need more fingers...

I looked out the window, dark was not so far off. I grabbed a couple of flashlights, my Kindle Paperwhite, and little Bose bluetooth speaker. I had a seventy percent charge on the phone, that was good news.  I called the wife, who was attending the grandgirls, and told her there was no need to hurry home. I lit a candle on the kitchen table, then, for next few hours I read, looked out the windows, and listened to music in the ever-darkening house.

Finally, around 6:30 the wife came to get me to go somewhere for dinner. After dinner we went to Target for stuff. I checked the electric company app. Power is expected to be restored at 1:30 AM. YGTBFKM.

Returning to the darkened house in a blacked-out neighborhood, I was happy I spent a few bucks extra for the battery backup on the garage door opener when I replaced it last summer. 

It was chilly in the house, but not too bad upstairs. I retired to my office to read on the ebook’s lighted screen, the wife to the other recliner in the girl’s bedroom to play on her iPad. 

No wonder our ancestors went to bed at sundown. They were bored. There is not much to do after dark but hump and draw stick figures of deer on the cave wall. Well let me tell you, the wife said no, and I couldn’t find the crayons. 

Fortunately, the power kicked on a little after eleven. Satisfied all was good, I went to bed. In the dark. Now I have to reset the stupid clocks.

Here is some Saturday music that has nothing to do with power outages.

Oh, Can’t you see?

The eldest granddaughter got glasses yesterday. She is really excited. They look good on her. She already looks much older than her nine years, and the glasses emphasize the notion. I feel bad for her. As soon as the “new” wears off she will realize all of the things everyone hates about glasses — they hurt your nose, your ears, they get so very dirty, they fog up, they slide when you sweat, they fall off when you are doing stuff, etc. I suspect in a few years she will beg for contacts. 

I first got glasses when I was eighteen. I mostly used them for reading. I hated them. By the time I was in my mid- twentiesI had to wear them all of the time. I hated them even more. In my forties I had to get bifocals. I hated them more. In my fifties my Fuchs Dystrophy got worse and I had to get cornea transplants in both eyes. The good news, I thought, new eyes means no more f-ing glasses. Nope, wrong. My severe astigmatism means I had to keep my glasses. Did I mention I hate my glasses? Within a few years I was back to bifocals. So it goes. First The astigmatism prevented the possibility of contacts, then the Fuchs, now the transplants. Currently, the I am waiting on my retina to recover fully from my surgery so I can get new, stronger glasses. Whoop! 

Did I mention I hate wearing glasses?

Anyway, my granddaughter got glasses and she looks cute and grown up and the rest of the diatribe was not necessary, but there you go. That’s what you get around here. 

It does give me an opportunity to play one of my favorite songs since it marginally mentions seeing:

This is for a good chunk of you

Looks like an ugly weekend. Right now we are on the warm side of the front, lots of rain and a little snow before the really cold air seeps in.

This is what you get when I cannot sleep

A stiff wind is rattling the eaves. The neighbors’ porch lights cut a narrow holes of brightness through the black of night. Seventies rock music plays softly on my Amazon Echo spy device. Currently it is Fleetwood Mac. I have been up since 3:30 this morning. I don’t know why. These things happen. 

I made a pot of potato soup for dinner. We had BLTs to go along with the meal. I had plain old iced tea, the wife added copious amounts of sugar to hers. It is possible the greasy bacon woke me up early. Perhaps it was work. Aches and pains in my joints from the changing weather patterns are equally complicit, I am sure. 

It is okay. I will fire up the old computer and do a little work when this post is done. Maybe I’ll doze in the recliner instead. I spend a significant amount of time here in the old blog room, office, man cave — whatever I chose to call this spare bedroom at any given moment. I am more than comfortable here. 

So we are at a crossroads with this post. I find it is a bit like a weak SNL skit, I don’t know how to end the thing. I could go searching for an old photo and turn it into a Wayback Wednesday post. I could post some music. The Allman Brothers Whipping Post is currently playing in the background to this one-fingered typing and is setting a fine atmosphere. 

The answer is neither. You get Wednesday. Make it a good one.

Panic!

The SnowTeamScareTeam was all about the treacherous weather - snow, ice, sleet we would get overnight. Except it was just rain. They will be so disappointed. I bet they had reporters stationed at various points in the city and suburbs ready to breathlessly report on the near-apocalypse. Now, never mind. 

But don’t fret, another chance at snow is forecasted this weekend with COLD! Weather. It will get sub-zero. You know, like it does every January. 

They can’t get the weather right four hours in advance. Let’s change our whole life, economy, and standard of living for weather a decade from now. 

it’s all perspective

 Last week we went to our favorite pizza joint. They have awesome wood-fired pizza and we go there usually every week. The total for pizza and a couple cans of diet drinks was $19.35. The wife hands the girl a twenty, two dimes, and three nickels. 

The cashier is a nice young girl, probably 18 or 19, definitely old enough to be out of school. She looks at my wife. She looks at her hand. She looks at my wife again. The cashier lays down the $20, then stares at the coins. She turns them over and stares some more. She looks up at my wife helplessly. 

“That is thirty five cents,” says the wife. 

The girl gives a little half smile. “Thanks, I have problems with coins,” she says. She drops the coins in the drawer, and stares at the twenty. 

“I get a dollar back,” the wife helps move the transaction along. The girl says a polite thank you. 

The wife and I wander to our table completely baffled at a person who cannot count change.

The girl hands the pizza ticket to the baker, completely baffled by old people who refuse to use a debit card. 

Dear Indianapolis Colts

Seriously? You need one yard. If you don’t get it, then it is game over and season over. So instead of giving the ball to your highest paid and best player — the one who has kept you you in the game to this point — you decide to put your star on the bench and throw a pass attempt to the third string running back. The guy who caught six passes all f-ing  year. Bad pass, dropped ball. Clean our your lockers. See you next year. 

Let’s not forget your highest paid kicker who doinked another FG. 

Eighty-one days until meaningful baseball. Not sure I care, the Cubs are decidedly worse than last year at this point. And they missed the playoffs last year. 

Will you bring me happiness? Will you bring me sorrow?

I decided over the Christmas holidays I would pick a musical topic and explore it a weekly post, perhaps more often if the Muse left me staring at a blank cursor. I decided I was going to delve into the music of the British Invasion from the mid-1960s to start. I determined that would get me through a significant part of 2024. 

That sounds like work, doesn’t it? 

As they used to say in the restaurant industry, eighty-six that notion. 

Instead, here is what is bouncing around in my head this morning:

The studio did much to improve their singing.

The studio version: