I was feeling a bit nostalgic and stopped at Acidman's blog this morning. If you have been around blogging for a very long time then you know about "Gut Rumbles".
I read some random entries. I wish I hadn't . Re-reading his posts with the benefit of knowing the future was bittersweet. Today, you can almost see the demons chewing away at his joie d.vivre. I suppose, had he lived, Rob would have slowly abandoned regular posting at his blog and migrated his wit to the book of face. I imagine that is what has happened to so many of the great ones. That or they just got bored with doing this weird hobby for ten or fifteen years.
January 31, 2016
January 30, 2016
Goin' on a date
It is supposed to be sunny today with highs in the low fifties. I am almost certain I am going to go for a walk this afternoon with a lovely hand-rolled stogie that immigrated legally from either a Carribean island or small Central American country. I have not yet picked out my date, but I'm sure we will enjoy our afternoon together.
I hope you have a good Saturday too.
I hope you have a good Saturday too.
January 29, 2016
Her vote counts the same as mine
I went to the grocery store yesterday evening to pick up a few items. I stopped by the deli and asked the young lady for three quarters of a pound of Sara Lee Honey Ham, shaved. After a five minute search behind the counter the other deli worker asked her what she was searching for. Worker 2 told my worker that she should just open a new ham since there clearly was not one partially sliced behind the counter.
This search meant she could not remember how much ham I wanted or how I wanted it sliced. I told he again I wanted 3/4 pound, shaved.
She carried over a slice about 1/8 inch thick and asked if that was OK? I told he no, I want it as thin as possible -- shaved. She brought over a slice about 1/16 inch thick. I told her no, I want it shaved, make the slicer barely clear the guard, it is OK if it comes out in small pieces. I explained I wanted the ham almost see-through.
She placed the meat on the scale and called her co-worker. "How much is three quarters of a pound?" she asked him. He frowned in disbelief and told her 0.75 on the scale.
She handed me my 1/16 inch thick slices of meat. Apparently she flunked both math and vocabulary in school.
This search meant she could not remember how much ham I wanted or how I wanted it sliced. I told he again I wanted 3/4 pound, shaved.
She carried over a slice about 1/8 inch thick and asked if that was OK? I told he no, I want it as thin as possible -- shaved. She brought over a slice about 1/16 inch thick. I told her no, I want it shaved, make the slicer barely clear the guard, it is OK if it comes out in small pieces. I explained I wanted the ham almost see-through.
She placed the meat on the scale and called her co-worker. "How much is three quarters of a pound?" she asked him. He frowned in disbelief and told her 0.75 on the scale.
She handed me my 1/16 inch thick slices of meat. Apparently she flunked both math and vocabulary in school.
Pointless Pontificating
It seems to happen on a regular basis any more. The clock metaphorically strikes four and my eyes pop open. I turn the pillow searching in vain for the cool side. I try not to thrash about too much in consideration of my fair spouse sleeping one-half of a queen-sized mattress away. I try in vain to re-enter the sweet arms of Morpheus. After thirty minutes or so of squeezing my eyes shut I give up. I roll out of bed and strip off the gym shorts and old stretched-out and faded Chicago Cubs T-shirt I wear as pajamas. I slip on my jeans and yesterday's sweatshirt. I close the bedroom door and sit on the top of the stairs to pull on my socks. It is O'dark thirty and once again I am up for the day. I offer a prayer of thanks for a new day. I pad downstairs and slip my phone into my left front pocket and a trusty Chapstick into the right. I perch my glasses onto my nose.
In the kitchen I fill the Keurig with water and pop in a pod. In a minute or two I have coffee. While I wait I check and delete the overnight junk mail in my email accounts. I glance at the digital clock on the microwave oven mounted above the stove and sigh at the blue numbers. I snap the lid onto the ceramic travel mug filled with black coffee and trudge up the stairs.
I sit in the unreclined recliner and pick up my iPad. USA Today is first, then the local news station app. Dilbert, a look at the Kindle daily deals and then I start perusing the political news sites and blogs. Only then do I turn to this little piece of the blogosphere. I have been up an hour. The neighborhood is dark through the window at my right elbow. After I type this entry I will glance at my stats, delete the spam from my comment folder and see if anyone bothered to read yesterday's drivel. I will get more coffee. Then I will check out most of the blogs on the sidebar before I walk across the hall to my office to begin another work day. Maybe I will spend thirty minutes with the Russians first.
As I type, I realize this entry is a far cry fromLennon's McCartney's understated eloquence when he penned "Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb, across my head...". Like most of the minutiae spewed in black squiggles on an electronic background at this blog, this post has no value to you. It is no different than most diaries in that sense. I just don't bother to hide my journal under the mattress.
edit: fixed attribution
In the kitchen I fill the Keurig with water and pop in a pod. In a minute or two I have coffee. While I wait I check and delete the overnight junk mail in my email accounts. I glance at the digital clock on the microwave oven mounted above the stove and sigh at the blue numbers. I snap the lid onto the ceramic travel mug filled with black coffee and trudge up the stairs.
I sit in the unreclined recliner and pick up my iPad. USA Today is first, then the local news station app. Dilbert, a look at the Kindle daily deals and then I start perusing the political news sites and blogs. Only then do I turn to this little piece of the blogosphere. I have been up an hour. The neighborhood is dark through the window at my right elbow. After I type this entry I will glance at my stats, delete the spam from my comment folder and see if anyone bothered to read yesterday's drivel. I will get more coffee. Then I will check out most of the blogs on the sidebar before I walk across the hall to my office to begin another work day. Maybe I will spend thirty minutes with the Russians first.
As I type, I realize this entry is a far cry from
edit: fixed attribution
January 28, 2016
Dear Donald
If you refuse to be in the same room with Meygan Kelly because she was mean and rude and unfair the last time, then Putin is going to give you a wedgie and steal your lunch money.
Man up. Life is not fair.
Man up. Life is not fair.
January 27, 2016
First published without a title but I put these words in the title space so now I suppose there really is a title now
Humpity humpity, it is hump day. That is Wednesday for those of you who like for me to state the obvious.
I have decided I'm going to once again give War and Peace a chance. I actually read the book more than 30 years ago as part of a college English Lit assignment. At that time I read everything except the First and Second Epilogues. As I relaxed in a hammock drinking gimlets after work the summer after that class, I decided there was no way I could slog through 1,300 plus pages of a book and not finish. So I did. Truth be told, I have read thousands of books in the intervening 30 or 35 years since college. I remember absolutely nothing about the novel beyond the idea that it is long and has a lot of characters. Besides, it is far different to read something because you want to rather than you have to.
We shall see if I can stick with it. Tolstoy is a typical 19th century novelist in that he is wordy; but not in an exhaustive and unreadable way like Melville or Cooper.* How much of the tome I read will likely depend on if something more interesting appears on my Kindle. Somehow 1,500 pages does not seem so daunting when you consider some of the Harry Potter and Game of Thrones installments went 700 pages and more. Today, Tolstoy could have milked War and Peace into a two or three book series.
* imagine me calling someone wordy.
I have decided I'm going to once again give War and Peace a chance. I actually read the book more than 30 years ago as part of a college English Lit assignment. At that time I read everything except the First and Second Epilogues. As I relaxed in a hammock drinking gimlets after work the summer after that class, I decided there was no way I could slog through 1,300 plus pages of a book and not finish. So I did. Truth be told, I have read thousands of books in the intervening 30 or 35 years since college. I remember absolutely nothing about the novel beyond the idea that it is long and has a lot of characters. Besides, it is far different to read something because you want to rather than you have to.
We shall see if I can stick with it. Tolstoy is a typical 19th century novelist in that he is wordy; but not in an exhaustive and unreadable way like Melville or Cooper.* How much of the tome I read will likely depend on if something more interesting appears on my Kindle. Somehow 1,500 pages does not seem so daunting when you consider some of the Harry Potter and Game of Thrones installments went 700 pages and more. Today, Tolstoy could have milked War and Peace into a two or three book series.
* imagine me calling someone wordy.
January 26, 2016
I will explain it all with a sigh
Well, it is Tuesday and I have nothing for you. The weather is blah. Work is blah. I'm sick of politics. When did the election cycle become four years long? I did my taxes last night. The Government has to give me some of my money back. Not a lot. Of course it will be returned interest free. At least I don't have to write them a check. I had to do that last year.
Since I have nothing worthy of your attention and it is Tuesday, how about we listen to an appropriate classic tune from The Moody Blues?
Since I have nothing worthy of your attention and it is Tuesday, how about we listen to an appropriate classic tune from The Moody Blues?
January 25, 2016
Celebrate
You may have health problems, crushing debt, a soul-sucking job, hopelessness, no reason to live. But any day the New England Patriots lose is a damn good day. Watching Tom CryBrady get knocked down repeatedly is just like ice cream for dessert.
Queue up Kool and the Gang on your mental soundtrack.
Queue up Kool and the Gang on your mental soundtrack.
January 24, 2016
News you can use
You may be unaware that the Washington-New York-Boston corridor , in fact much of the east coast, got a large amount of snow this weekend. I tell you this because there has been hardly any mention of it on TV, radio, or Internet news sources.
Just thought you would like to know.
Just thought you would like to know.
January 23, 2016
I did not kill the deputy either
A good blogger would be spinning words of insight, entertainment, or inspiration this morning. Once again I am faithful to my art and you will get none of those things in this post. At least I am consistent.
It is Saturday. You know that already. The giant the world-is-gonna-end snowstorm of snowstorms ( no doubt to be blamed on global warming) is far to the east and south of God's favorite state. In fact, it looks like the snow cover will melt like the Wicked Witch of the West in the coming days.
Speaking of the Wizard of Oz, you do know the book is an allegory for the debate over whether the Government should base their currency on the gold or silver standard that dominated politics in the late 19th Century? The yellow (gold) brick road leads to the Emerald (as in green dollars) City? The evil witches are in the west and the east, while the heroes hail from the Midwest and represent farmers, mechanics. Are your eyes glazing over? Well trust me, the gold standard issue in its day was as big as any political debate we have today, including ObamaCare and immigration. Politicians in Washington fixed the debate by not having our currency backed by anything at all.
I know, I know, you didn't come here to learn stuff. I'm not going to start quoting the Cross of Gold speech. *
I need more coffee and you have actual blogs of entertainment to read. Have a great weekend.
* do your own homework
It is Saturday. You know that already. The giant the world-is-gonna-end snowstorm of snowstorms ( no doubt to be blamed on global warming) is far to the east and south of God's favorite state. In fact, it looks like the snow cover will melt like the Wicked Witch of the West in the coming days.
Speaking of the Wizard of Oz, you do know the book is an allegory for the debate over whether the Government should base their currency on the gold or silver standard that dominated politics in the late 19th Century? The yellow (gold) brick road leads to the Emerald (as in green dollars) City? The evil witches are in the west and the east, while the heroes hail from the Midwest and represent farmers, mechanics. Are your eyes glazing over? Well trust me, the gold standard issue in its day was as big as any political debate we have today, including ObamaCare and immigration. Politicians in Washington fixed the debate by not having our currency backed by anything at all.
I know, I know, you didn't come here to learn stuff. I'm not going to start quoting the Cross of Gold speech. *
I need more coffee and you have actual blogs of entertainment to read. Have a great weekend.
* do your own homework
January 22, 2016
No, no, no, no, please don't do it
Reports say that the Commissioner of MLB and the players union are pushing to put the designated hitter rule into the National League. I was rather hoping that abomination would be stripped from baseball altogether, not expanded.
January 21, 2016
Follow me, boys
Get out your atlas, it is time to follow along with my travels this week. I'm not giving the roads, you can trace your own route through the Land of Lincoln: Centralia, Belleville and Mount Olive. We hit Lincoln and Galesburg and Rock Island. I even got my kicks on a few miles of old Route 66. I'll be home in a few hours. I'm ready. It has been a long week.
January 20, 2016
January 19, 2016
Say there
Where was my great-great grandfather's white privilege when he volunteered to go fight, at great personal risk, in an effort to free the slaves?
Ahem
You people do realize that Bernie Sanders is a fucking socialist bastard, right?
Is there a socialist utopia anywhere that does not have high taxes and rough, almost unusable toilet paper (when you can get it)?
Is there a socialist utopia anywhere that does not have high taxes and rough, almost unusable toilet paper (when you can get it)?
So long
RIP Glen Frey, you sure entertained me.
It must have been in 1976 or so when I was gifted a tape recorder/player for my birthday. My cousins gave me copies of The Eagles Greatest Hits and The Captain and Me by the Doobie Brothers. That year the family took a vacation to Kentucky; Mammoth Cave, Lincoln's birthplace, etc. we listened to those tapes endlessly, probably because there was zilch on the AM radio, and mostly because I'm sure I whined endlessly and it was easier to let me have my way. I'm pretty sure a great deal of the time I had that one earbud that came with it stuck deep in my ear so the rest of the family could avoid hearing those tapes for the umpteenth time.
Glen Frey passed away yesterday and the world st another musical genius.
It must have been in 1976 or so when I was gifted a tape recorder/player for my birthday. My cousins gave me copies of The Eagles Greatest Hits and The Captain and Me by the Doobie Brothers. That year the family took a vacation to Kentucky; Mammoth Cave, Lincoln's birthplace, etc. we listened to those tapes endlessly, probably because there was zilch on the AM radio, and mostly because I'm sure I whined endlessly and it was easier to let me have my way. I'm pretty sure a great deal of the time I had that one earbud that came with it stuck deep in my ear so the rest of the family could avoid hearing those tapes for the umpteenth time.
Glen Frey passed away yesterday and the world st another musical genius.
January 18, 2016
You are as cold as ice
Actually, I have It wrong in referencing the Foreigner hit from 1977. It is colder than ice outside. Right now it is a frigid 1 degree outside with a windchill factor of -17. The greedy bastids at the gas and electric companies must be rubbing their hands with glee. If we were depending on solar panels for our electricity we would be screwed like a ten dollar hooker though -- the skies have been cloudy for days. That happens around here in the winter.
I hope you had a great weekend. We didn't do much. Some friends came over Saturday night. We played some euchre and ate way too many sweets and junk. We matched up like always, dudes versus chicks and this time the heroes were soundly defeated by the womenfolk. It happens on occasion.
On Sunday I ... Uh...well...accomplished nothing. I pushed the 1/2 inch of snow off the drive and sidewalks. I watched some football. I napped. I finished a mediocre autobiography by a guy who served in Vietnam in the Central Highlands in 1968/1969. I watched some TV. I was a lazy. It was a good day.
Now it is Monday and I am back to the grind doing my tiny part help keep the wheels and cogs of commerce in motion. I'm just a tiny component in the mighty economic engine. Chug, chug.
Have a great Monday.
I hope you had a great weekend. We didn't do much. Some friends came over Saturday night. We played some euchre and ate way too many sweets and junk. We matched up like always, dudes versus chicks and this time the heroes were soundly defeated by the womenfolk. It happens on occasion.
On Sunday I ... Uh...well...accomplished nothing. I pushed the 1/2 inch of snow off the drive and sidewalks. I watched some football. I napped. I finished a mediocre autobiography by a guy who served in Vietnam in the Central Highlands in 1968/1969. I watched some TV. I was a lazy. It was a good day.
Now it is Monday and I am back to the grind doing my tiny part help keep the wheels and cogs of commerce in motion. I'm just a tiny component in the mighty economic engine. Chug, chug.
Have a great Monday.
January 17, 2016
Hear Ye Hear Ye
As official Arbiter of Taste, I hereby decree the following:
It is time to turn off your damn Christmas Lights.
It is time to turn off your damn Christmas Lights.
Wow
That Arizona-Packers game last night had to be one of the wildest, craziest football games I have ever watched. Unbelievable finish in great plays as opposed to last week's Steelers-Bengals fiasco. The former saw great plays by Rodgers and Fitgerald while the latter game was marked by boneheaded and stupid penalties. Wow. Even the wife was going crazy watching that game.
Earlier in the day the evil Patriots won. That one I didn't watch.
Earlier in the day the evil Patriots won. That one I didn't watch.
January 14, 2016
How to give your hamster a haircut
Once again I am up way earlier than I need to be or want to be. By 10:00 this morning I will be fighting to stay awake.
I did not win a share of the big lottery prize. I purchased two tickets yesterday and did not match a single number. I should have used those four George Washingtons to light a cigar or something useful. Oh, I don't mind really. Four bucks to become a billionaire is a small price. I feel sorry for the guy in front of me at the grocery who dropped a C-note on his dreams. I guess that is why I don't gamble often or spend much when I do; money is too hard to come by to throw it away on bad odds. On the other hand, some would argue spending precious cash on rolled up leaves of tobacco and then burning it up is a waste of money. They could be right. I guess lottery guy's dream of riches was worth $100 while mine was was worth $4. Far be it for me to judge, I can't even get my own shit in one sock.
Do you remember the guy who used to come on TV and spin plates on the end of sticks? You don't see that much any more. Is it a lost art? Well, that juggling act is a metaphor for my life these days. I have so many plates spinning that I am struggling to keep up. I worry that at any moment any, each, or all of those plates are gonna come crashing down at my feet with disastrous results. I suspect that is why I cannot sleep these days. I have everlasting and unshakable faith in God. Things always work out like they are supposed to.
I'm heading downstairs to fill up my coffee mug. Have a great day.
I did not win a share of the big lottery prize. I purchased two tickets yesterday and did not match a single number. I should have used those four George Washingtons to light a cigar or something useful. Oh, I don't mind really. Four bucks to become a billionaire is a small price. I feel sorry for the guy in front of me at the grocery who dropped a C-note on his dreams. I guess that is why I don't gamble often or spend much when I do; money is too hard to come by to throw it away on bad odds. On the other hand, some would argue spending precious cash on rolled up leaves of tobacco and then burning it up is a waste of money. They could be right. I guess lottery guy's dream of riches was worth $100 while mine was was worth $4. Far be it for me to judge, I can't even get my own shit in one sock.
Do you remember the guy who used to come on TV and spin plates on the end of sticks? You don't see that much any more. Is it a lost art? Well, that juggling act is a metaphor for my life these days. I have so many plates spinning that I am struggling to keep up. I worry that at any moment any, each, or all of those plates are gonna come crashing down at my feet with disastrous results. I suspect that is why I cannot sleep these days. I have everlasting and unshakable faith in God. Things always work out like they are supposed to.
I'm heading downstairs to fill up my coffee mug. Have a great day.
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