A kindergarten pupil told his teacher he had found a cat this weekend. The teacher asked if he took the cat home and took care of it.
“It was dead,” informed the student.Happy Sunday, blog friends. It is a chilly, but seasonal, day here at the homestead. There is a forecast for snow on the morrow and again later in the week. I don’t mind, it is that time of year. The place is starting to look festive as the wife has been busy decorating every room, nook, and cranny in holiday splendor.
In other news, I don’t have any. The leftists are girding their loins for a January takeover and we will sit back and see what freedom-usurping policies they impose upon us.
Enough on that. I’m in a great mood and don’t want to spoil a good cup of coffee with politics.
How about some Christmas music to kick off the Season?
Well too bad, as long as I have the keys to this place I get to choose the content.
Enjoy. Or not. Here is Bing’s version:
It is with interest to read various opinion pieces discussing how to rid the GOP of “Trumpism”. There is nothing to stir the loathing of a career politician or the ruling class’ angst like a populist. The proverbial old boys club hates an outsider. Despite their endless and meaningless platitudes about democracy, there exists, and has always existed, a mindset that some people know better than you and ought to rule.
Nothing scares the ruling class like the notion of the masses truly voting. Look at the Gracci in Ancient Rome. The Historians of the Empire certainly gave a sense they thought the Brothers were to blame or screwing up things, and certainly by the time history really came into stride with the Victorians that was the underlying theme. One could make the argument Caesar was assassinated as much for his popularity among the Plebian class as for his usurpation of power. To mix metaphors, Caesar was taking the rice bowl from the bureaucrats and They didn’t like it one bit.
If the Never-Trumpers had any balls, they would have staged their own Ides of March . Wait, they tried with the whole Russia, Russia, Russia thing. I suppose a literal stabbing in the back was just too icky and messy.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, scared the Western World like the French Revolution. Not so much the tossing of the Bourbons, they owed money to everyone and they were never going to repay, but in that the peasants were taking charge and lopping aristocratic heads with regularity. Now that was a problem. Likewise the the Russians a hundred years ago.
Don’t feel so smug. We haven’t treated our American populists much better. Andrew JAckson has fallen a bit out of favor and the Populist of all Populists, William Jennings Bryan, is treated with more than a little condescending disdain in our own modern histories. More recently, look at how both political parties feel about Ross Perot.
The aristocrat-types hate a populist. The very construction of our government is by design built to limit the ability of populism to steer the course of politics. Sure, there is a wink and a nod to letting the People have their say, but the passions that elect the House are limited by the two year term juxtaposed by the six year term of the supposedly more deliberative nature of the Senate. That’s why originally Senators were elected by the States, not the general populace and why the President is chosen through the electoral college, not the popular vote.
If you want Exhibit A on why populism is a bad idea, look at what has happened to Federalism since the Seventeenth Amendment was passed . One of the first acts of a wholly popular-elected Senate was to outlaw alcohol. Cripes.
It will be interesting to see what happens to the Trump era in history. I say that metaphorically, since sober history won’t be written until long after I’m dead. Of course history is written by the victors, and the aristocracy hates Trump with a burning passion, so I suspect Orange Man Bad will be vilified like most populists in history.
Let me take a moment to offer my thanks for your support, prayers, and especially for reading this blog. You have no idea what it means to know you stop by to see what I have to say. I don’t know why, but I am thrilled you do.
I want to give thanks to Him, who has blessed me in more ways than I can count and infinitely more than I deserve.
Now go and eat some food and get off the internet.
Monday. It’s a short week for some of you. Since my life is retail Hell, I’ll be on duty and feigning cheerfulness all weekend starting Friday. Hooray for me, hooray for you. I was slated for a short closing shift this evening and then off until Friday. I have been asked to open Wednesday — likely setting Black Friday stuff, and possibly on Tuesday as well. I’ll do it, I need the money.
This is a hard and sad week for the family. My grandson’s birthday is Wednesday. It is probably good that I work. A busy body makes for a quiet mind. Thanksgiving dinner will be at my daughter’s this year. I think she finds the cooking therapeutic. Still, a shadow of sadness will dull the festivities. At least I don’t cry every time I visit him these days.
The wife and I put the ornaments on the big tree last night. I’m not sure if we are going to put up the other one. I’m not in charge of decorating. The outside is mostly done except for hanging the wreath on the door.
There you have it, the boringness that is this blog.
Worth every penny you paid to read it, eh wot?
Milk Duds and coffee, the breakfast of hopeless romantics like me. No, chewy chocolate covered caramels are likely not on my approved diet, but I’ve been a good boy for the most part. I’ve walked just over thirty miles this week. My weight is down to within the ideal BMI charts.
I did a brief test of the Christmas lights after dark and a section of the big wreath over the garage is out - from 3 o’clock to 5 o’clock. I picked up a cheap box of replacement lights at work yesterday evening. Yes, I paid for them.
In other news, I have nothing. The local football team plays the late game. I’m off work. I expect those factors mean the wife will expect me to do something rather than sit on the couch and watch movies or read another Travis McGee adventure. I’m also reasonably certain naked wrestling is not what she will have in mind as an alternative activity. It is raining so I won’t have to rake the remaining leaves.
Do you want some music to round out your Sunday? Why not? This is the last regular tune before I start subjecting you to Christmas music next week. Let’s find a good one. This is one of my favorites by Led Zeppelin:
Have a great Sunday.
Yesterday was a gorgeous November day here at the homestead with temperatures reaching nearly 60. I took advantage of the day off and finished the Christmas decorating outside. Lights are up, wreaths are hung, the little tree and wooden snowman are on the porch opposite my old sled. Of course none of the decorations will be lit prior to Friday. I have standards.
This is what the place looked like last year. It looks the same this year. The wife decided she wants a string of lights around the garage door, so I may add that this week. If you look closely those upstairs windows at the left hand side of the picture, clouded in shadow, you will notice my office where all of my blogging genius originates. I’m sure future historians would like to memorialize the location as a museum to my greatness.
After I did the decorating, I headed out back to rake some of the leaves in the backyard. The three Bradford pears have finally dumped their leaves, so the detritus is about a half foot thick. I got about 1/4 of the backyard done. Now it has started raining, and it is expected to continue for the next week, so I don’t know when I’ll finish.
So it goes. Enjoy your Saturday. I made other plans.
One would think that since Biden has a law degree, spent his whole life in Washington, and ostensibly will be POTUS, he wold understand Consttutiooal Law just a smidgeon. It was reported on the National news yesterday he and his team are so frustrated with Trump’s refusal to concede that Biden is considering going to court.
For what? There is no law that indicates Trump must work on a transition. He is POTUS until January 20, like it or not. None of his powers are reduced. He does not need to concede legally. Just ask Stacy Abrams.
More to the point, the election for President has not even occurred. Many States have not finished the counting, they have not certified the results. The Electors do not meet to vote for President until December 14th.
If I know that (and I didn’t sleep n a Holiday Inn Express last night), wouldn’t we expect Biden to understand?
I’m alive.
Nothing to report. I’ve had the very early shift again the past few days. Now, lucky you, it is a rare evening post.
Not that I have anything to say. I just hate the idea of not posting. Damn you Acidman for instilling those blogging habits. Of course the Acidman has been dead for a very long time and likely would have migrated to Facebook and twitter anyway like most of he old bloggers. I suspect many of you have no clue who the Acidman was. I’m still here though: 6,900+ posts into this thing. More than a million visitors over 15 years.
Thanks for reading. I mean that.
A man and his wife are dining at a table in a plush restaurant, and the husband keeps staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sits alone at a nearby table.
The wife asks, “Do you know her?”
“Yes,” sighs the husband, “she’s my ex-girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up seven years ago, and I hear she hasn’t been sober since.”
“My God!” says the wife. “Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?”
A steady cold rain falls on the homestead grounds this morning. The outside temps are seasonal as I sip coffee and hunt and peck one-fingered on the iPad keyboard. I have to shower and shave and pack a light luncheon in preparation of the early, but not as early as other days, opening shift at the big box this morning.
The wife suggested it is time to think about dragging the Christmas decorations from the attic. I think it is early, but she wants a head start on her massive redecorating she does every year. A few houses in the neighborhood are already lit up. One house fired up their lights the day after a Halloween. Of course that is the same house that burns Christmas lights until April...
I don’t know what the wife has in mind, but I am hankering for some fried chicken for supper. Some mashed spuds and white chicken gravy really sound good.
I had a political commentary half written in my head, but I will torgo it at this point other than to say there are reasons for Trump not to concede the election and reasons why the Democrats and media (redundancy alert) are pushing for it so hard. What would you say if you learned Biden underperformed Hillary in every Blue city except Detroit, Philadelphia, Milwaukee, and Atlanta? The four places with questionable voting in four battleground states. All places with extraordinary turnout and near unanimous votes for Sleepy Joe. Something to think about.
How about some music to brighten your day?
A newlywed couple gets a special present for their nuptials: a brand new sports car. As they leave the wedding reception, they are so excited they drive faster than they ever had before.
“I’ll make you a deal,” said the groom with a smile. “If I do 200mph, you take off your dress. Deal?” he asked.
“Yes!” said his adventurous wife.
As he approached 200mph, she begins to peel off her dress.
With him unable to keep his eyes on the road, the car soon skidded on some gravel and flipped over. The bride, now stark naked, was fine, but he was jammed beneath the steering wheel.
“Go and get help!” he cried.
“But I can’t. I’m naked and my clothes are gone!”
“Take my shoe and cover yourself,” he said.
Holding the shoe over her private area, the bride ran down the road and found a service station. Still holding the shoe between her legs, she pleaded to the service station proprietor: “Please help me! My husband’s stuck!”
The proprietor looked at the shoe and said: “There’s nothing I can do… he’s in too far.”
I’ve discussed before how history leads me down rabbit holes. Here is another example.
A good friend of mine was going through his mother’s stuff after she died a month or so ago and ran across an envelope written from a hospital in Nashville in 1865. He wanted to know why his relative was in Nashville, and asked to help figure out what unit he served. We knew he was from Boone County, IN.
I started with a battle order of regiments in the Nashville Campaign. And advised him to look up the ancestor’s pension records. I knew that many men from Boone County served in the 10th Indiana, but they mustered out in ‘64 and if they reinlisted were moved to the 58th Indiana that served in Sherman’s March, not the Nashville Campaign.
I looked up Boone County regiments and lo and behold found pension records from 1890 and 1894! And there it was, his great great grandfather. Two pages later was my great great grandfather.
Bates, William E. Pvt. Co. H 7th Cav. Iowa. Civil War. Present address: Reeses Mills, IN. 4 children under age 16. Gunshot wound in right arm at Cow Creek, Kansas.
My relative listed his residence as Reeses Mill. Wait, what? Where the heck is/was Reeses Mill, Indiana? I’m sure it was a place not a location because others in the pension roll listed it as their address too. I found a family tree of one Joseph Reese who was listed as postmaster of...Reeses Mill. But that was in the 1830’s. I know the Bates family farm was near Mechanicsburg, so the Mill was probably along Sugar Creek. My Grandmother was born on that farm...
Hold on, did that say gunshot at Cow Creek, Kansas? I don’t remember a gunshot wound. And what happened at Cow Creek?
No not that skirmish.
Fighting Indians along Cow Creek. Ah there it is, a history of the Seventh Iowa Cavalry....
There I find this:
Bates, William E. Age 18. Residence Cleopatra, Mo., nativity Ohio. Enlisted May 12, 1863. Mustered June 19, 1863. Promoted Eighth Corporal March 10, 1864; Sixth Corporal Aug. 23, 1864. Transferred to Company H. Seventh Cavalry Reorganized.
Cleopatra, MO? How in the heck did he end up in Indiana if he lived in the west at the start of the war...
See, I have historical ADD.
The cool thing is my friend’s great great grandfather and mine probably lived less than 10 miles apart in the late 1800s. They might have known each other. How wonderful is that?
Covid cases are soaring everywhere. During the run-up to the election we got a constant pounding from the media that alluded to a failure on the part of Trump as the reason. Buried, if mentioned at all, was that cases were on the rise globally. That didn’t fit the narrative. Even the dumbest of Democrats wouldn’t believe Orange Man Bad was causing people to be sick in France or Bulgaria, or wherever.
Now that the media — not the electoral college or state governments — have declared Biden the victor, we are seeing fewer stories blaming Trump for the Covid increases domestically.
Why is that? It sets the stage for the Big Excuse come early next year. The media will explain that no President can cause nor heal a virus. We just have to ride it out and wait on a vaccine. And taking a page out of the Obama playbook, Biden will just blame it all on Trump if it does come up. He will wait to do that because he has no different answers, despite his claims to the contrary. It worked for Obama on the economy.
Oh, remember when the media scoffed at the President’s claim a vaccine would be ready in November?
Hey, don’t worry. Joe has a plan to cure the pandemic without destroying the economy. He just won’t tell us yet, because I guess credit is more important than saving lives the next three months. He did say if we all wear masks this would go away.
In my community, 99% of people are wearing masks, and the Wuhan Flu ain’t going away. Of course if the same people who tell us to skip Thanksgiving and stay out of restaurants and close the schools would quit lauding riots and protests where hundreds are gathering without masks, maybe the situation would improve? I’m looking at you Indianapolis.
