A good friend of mine in California sent me his Nephew's top 10 list. His nephew is in Iraq while I'm grabbing a blanket to crawl under to watch "Its a Wonderful Life"
Top Ten reasons it is better to be in the Middle East for Christmas
10. “I couldn’t get you anything because the market was blown up…” is a perfectly legitimate reason to not have a gift. It is also easily verified.
9. There are myriad things flying through the sky that discerning parents can claim are “Santa on his way with gifts for the good little children”. –care must be taken to ignore the explosion that follows and just claim your child has an overactive imagination.
8. Due to the tendency of “radical” Islamists to kill people for imbibing alcohol, there are fewer family fights during the holidays, fueled by alcohol.
7. All over the city not a creature was stirring… there is a curfew dammit.
6. No need to hang Christmas lights. Why on earth would you want to illuminate YOUR house as a mortar target?
5. No tree decorating required. Do you know how hard it is for kids to hang ornaments on Palm trees?
4. No need to worry about accommodating the Jewish kids in school…
3. Women don’t have to worry about what to wear to the Christmas party… everyone else will be wearing an abaya as well…
2. You are actually ALLOWED to shoot people for doing things like door-to-door Caroling.
1. Live Nativity Scenes! There are neither Human rights, nor Animal rights…
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
New Kid in Town
They say bad things happen to good people, they are usually right about that.
They also say the good die young and so on.
They may also be right about that as well.
I worry more about my standing in that area with each passing year.
The thing that remains constant though, of course, from my perspective, is that there is never a better test of a person than bad times.
“It is second only to how well a person deals with success.” as Abe Lincoln once said. In either case, the true test of one’s friends is how well ‘they’ handle that in your life. I count myself extremely lucky in this arena.
Nothing is more disturbing to me than the ebb and flow of those who merely judge you by your position or ability to affect their lives. Friendships built on gain and advancement is the preverbal ‘house built on sand.’
The person who shakes your hand on a day when you live in the corner office is sometimes the first to come looking for a chair or that potted plant when you move on.
There are those ‘who will now look to see who will be there next’ and how best to introduce themselves. I believe the Eagles said it best in their tune “New Kid in Town”
A few years back, I ran into some “friends” that I had known from my former marriage. Divorce at times has the affect of making some folks think they must choose between the two parties.
I found out that there was minor shifting on the friendship bus then. In my conversation with my “old buddies,” I was amazed at the stories about me. I was amused when one said, “I think we picked the wrong side.” I was unaware that friendship had sides.
On the work side, I once had a Purchasing Manager tell me he had heard all about my antics, and that was why he did not trust me. When pressed, he explained that he knew about the time I flew to Boise, Idaho and used an axe to knock down a motel door. I guess I then took a set of keys away from a trucker and stole his semi to deliver a shipment to my work place.
Well, then there was me in an airplane…I think not.
The point here is simple.
Measure what you hear and never underestimate the beauty of loyalty.
They also say the good die young and so on.
They may also be right about that as well.
I worry more about my standing in that area with each passing year.
The thing that remains constant though, of course, from my perspective, is that there is never a better test of a person than bad times.
“It is second only to how well a person deals with success.” as Abe Lincoln once said. In either case, the true test of one’s friends is how well ‘they’ handle that in your life. I count myself extremely lucky in this arena.
Nothing is more disturbing to me than the ebb and flow of those who merely judge you by your position or ability to affect their lives. Friendships built on gain and advancement is the preverbal ‘house built on sand.’
The person who shakes your hand on a day when you live in the corner office is sometimes the first to come looking for a chair or that potted plant when you move on.
There are those ‘who will now look to see who will be there next’ and how best to introduce themselves. I believe the Eagles said it best in their tune “New Kid in Town”
A few years back, I ran into some “friends” that I had known from my former marriage. Divorce at times has the affect of making some folks think they must choose between the two parties.
I found out that there was minor shifting on the friendship bus then. In my conversation with my “old buddies,” I was amazed at the stories about me. I was amused when one said, “I think we picked the wrong side.” I was unaware that friendship had sides.
On the work side, I once had a Purchasing Manager tell me he had heard all about my antics, and that was why he did not trust me. When pressed, he explained that he knew about the time I flew to Boise, Idaho and used an axe to knock down a motel door. I guess I then took a set of keys away from a trucker and stole his semi to deliver a shipment to my work place.
Well, then there was me in an airplane…I think not.
The point here is simple.
Measure what you hear and never underestimate the beauty of loyalty.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
And How Bravely They Fought
Pearl Harbor survivors meet for last time
By JAYMES SONG, Associated Press Writer Thu Dec 7, 7:58 AM ET
PEARL HARBOR, Hawaii - With their number quickly dwindling, survivors of Pearl Harbor will gather Thursday one last time to honor those killed by the Japanese 65 years ago, and to mark a day that lives in infamy.
In Tom Brokaw’s book, The Greatest Generation, he address’s the glory of our parents and grandparents time in the sun. It is a generation that defined so many of us.
In my case my parents lived in Nazi occupied Europe. I don’t believe I’ve ever had that kind of a “bad day”.
My father-in-law served in the Pacific with the Flying Tigers. I saw a picture recently of him in uniform and was amazed at his youth and the pride that filled his eyes. He was part of an all Chinese Support group. Up to few years back they would have a reunion to catch up, but time has reduced the number and physical ailments have put and end to those.
A while back we went to the Aviation museum in Galveston. I wasn’t to sure what would be inside but thought it would be an adventure since I have always been a fan of World War 2 airplanes. This place was a treasure trove of memories. It is an all volunteer sight and run mostly on donations. As we wandered through the displays you couldn’t help but me amazed at the sheer dimensions of these fighting machines. The bombers with their gun turrets made me claustrophobic just looking at them. Then trying to imagine someone shooting at you at the same time.
While we were there I noticed a gentleman around my Father-in-law's age. The guide who was giving the tour soon became another avid listener as the soldier told of being a pilot and the missions he flew in the Pacific. It almost seemed that the storyteller became a bit taller in his stance and his eyes became brighter with each word. To no one’s amazement, the rope barricade around the WWII fighter plane came down and this rightful owner was given complete access to “his” airplane. It was not a huge stretch to imagine him at 19 years old and he and the airplane learning together.
I am still amazed at the sights we saw that day, but my thoughts always go back to the gentleman there, who was one of the generation that allowed me to even be able to visit there in the 1st place.
By JAYMES SONG, Associated Press Writer Thu Dec 7, 7:58 AM ET
PEARL HARBOR, Hawaii - With their number quickly dwindling, survivors of Pearl Harbor will gather Thursday one last time to honor those killed by the Japanese 65 years ago, and to mark a day that lives in infamy.
In Tom Brokaw’s book, The Greatest Generation, he address’s the glory of our parents and grandparents time in the sun. It is a generation that defined so many of us.
In my case my parents lived in Nazi occupied Europe. I don’t believe I’ve ever had that kind of a “bad day”.
My father-in-law served in the Pacific with the Flying Tigers. I saw a picture recently of him in uniform and was amazed at his youth and the pride that filled his eyes. He was part of an all Chinese Support group. Up to few years back they would have a reunion to catch up, but time has reduced the number and physical ailments have put and end to those.
A while back we went to the Aviation museum in Galveston. I wasn’t to sure what would be inside but thought it would be an adventure since I have always been a fan of World War 2 airplanes. This place was a treasure trove of memories. It is an all volunteer sight and run mostly on donations. As we wandered through the displays you couldn’t help but me amazed at the sheer dimensions of these fighting machines. The bombers with their gun turrets made me claustrophobic just looking at them. Then trying to imagine someone shooting at you at the same time.
While we were there I noticed a gentleman around my Father-in-law's age. The guide who was giving the tour soon became another avid listener as the soldier told of being a pilot and the missions he flew in the Pacific. It almost seemed that the storyteller became a bit taller in his stance and his eyes became brighter with each word. To no one’s amazement, the rope barricade around the WWII fighter plane came down and this rightful owner was given complete access to “his” airplane. It was not a huge stretch to imagine him at 19 years old and he and the airplane learning together.
I am still amazed at the sights we saw that day, but my thoughts always go back to the gentleman there, who was one of the generation that allowed me to even be able to visit there in the 1st place.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Animal Farm part Deux
Wait for it..here it comes. Wait for it and there it is..
Let the official spinning begin……
Gates says U.S. is not winning Iraq war
By ROBERT BURNS, AP Military Writer 2 hours, 26 minutes ago
WASHINGTON - Robert Gates, the White House choice to be the next defense secretary, conceded Tuesday that the United States is not winning the war in Iraq and warned that if that country is not stabilized in the next year or two it could lead to a "regional conflagration."
I believe it was George Orwell who said it best in Animal Farm. In a nutshell the old enemy is the new ally and the old ally…well you get the picture.
The Bush legacy will be defined in the next 2 years. The election in November gave the clue that perhaps the approach of the previous 6 years wasn’t as big a slam dunk as 1st perceived by the brains in the Rove corner. In a month or so well will adopt new plans and exit strategies from Iraq. Many of these will not be dissimilar from those that Don Rumsfield outlined in his suggestions prior to his hasty departure form Camelot. I believe in the end no one actually saw Rummy as the issue. In the end none of us have ever done better then our boss thought we should.
Unless you were a complete hermit you had to believe that Iraq had begun its rather dismal spin into civil war. The country is imploding quicker then a bad taco from Taco Bell. Even a society obsessed with Paris Hilton and “Benifer”, had to have noticed, that the war in Iraq was going south.
Many have said that this was President Bush’s Vietnam and sadly it would appear that history has jumped up to prove this correct. I just hope in the end, the spin-doctor era we are quickly approaching, that we do not lose sight of the men and women of our military who have given so much.
Let the official spinning begin……
Gates says U.S. is not winning Iraq war
By ROBERT BURNS, AP Military Writer 2 hours, 26 minutes ago
WASHINGTON - Robert Gates, the White House choice to be the next defense secretary, conceded Tuesday that the United States is not winning the war in Iraq and warned that if that country is not stabilized in the next year or two it could lead to a "regional conflagration."
I believe it was George Orwell who said it best in Animal Farm. In a nutshell the old enemy is the new ally and the old ally…well you get the picture.
The Bush legacy will be defined in the next 2 years. The election in November gave the clue that perhaps the approach of the previous 6 years wasn’t as big a slam dunk as 1st perceived by the brains in the Rove corner. In a month or so well will adopt new plans and exit strategies from Iraq. Many of these will not be dissimilar from those that Don Rumsfield outlined in his suggestions prior to his hasty departure form Camelot. I believe in the end no one actually saw Rummy as the issue. In the end none of us have ever done better then our boss thought we should.
Unless you were a complete hermit you had to believe that Iraq had begun its rather dismal spin into civil war. The country is imploding quicker then a bad taco from Taco Bell. Even a society obsessed with Paris Hilton and “Benifer”, had to have noticed, that the war in Iraq was going south.
Many have said that this was President Bush’s Vietnam and sadly it would appear that history has jumped up to prove this correct. I just hope in the end, the spin-doctor era we are quickly approaching, that we do not lose sight of the men and women of our military who have given so much.
Monday, December 04, 2006
An Open Letter from Shamu
A trainer was injured during a show Wednesday at SeaWorld Adventure Park after Shamu the killer whale grabbed his foot and pulled him underwater twice, said Reuters.
The 39-year-old man was taken to a hospital and was listed in good condition, said Mike Scarpuzzi, a park official. Mike Scarpuzzi said he did not know the extent of the trainer's injuries.
"His skills and techniques, and close relationship with the whale played a major role in helping the animal calm down and allowed him to eventually swim out of the pool," Scarpuzzi said.
"While underwater, the whale opened its mouth and grabbed his foot and kept him underwater for a period of time," Scarpuzzi said, adding he didn't know how long the trainer was kept down.
Ok, ok…I did it.
Here is the deal, I am a killer whale. I am not your golden retriever. I don’t play ‘fetch’ as a rule in the wild, unless, it’s time to grab some lunch. You have me in a fish bowl. You may think it is ‘big,’ I do not.
I think the Pacific Ocean is big. There is a difference.
In the real world, I dine on seals and so on. If you insist on dressing like a seal, you ‘latex-wearing freak’, I will in turn assume you are a seal, as well, and treat you accordingly. This would include dragging you under water to see how long you can hold your breath.
I get that you think it is normal behavior for you to ride on my back, have me jump through hoops and be thrilled that some fat woman from South Dakota finds me ‘adorable.’
None of the above is a normal behavior pattern for me.
Hanging out in a pod and having a bunch of places I can visit is normal for me. Have you seen whales giving rides in the San Juan Islands? I think not.
Hey, while I am on this rant, what is with the mackerel? I know you got seals in here, what are the chances of tossing ME one of those once in a while. Let’s give the 5th grade class tour a real neat story to tell Mommy and Daddy when they get home.
And is there any chance I could get some curtains in here?
A little privacy would be nice…
How would you and the redhead from the concession stand like to have everybody watch you two do the ‘wild thing?’
Would you write that as being “educational?”
I thought not.
Shamu
The 39-year-old man was taken to a hospital and was listed in good condition, said Mike Scarpuzzi, a park official. Mike Scarpuzzi said he did not know the extent of the trainer's injuries.
"His skills and techniques, and close relationship with the whale played a major role in helping the animal calm down and allowed him to eventually swim out of the pool," Scarpuzzi said.
"While underwater, the whale opened its mouth and grabbed his foot and kept him underwater for a period of time," Scarpuzzi said, adding he didn't know how long the trainer was kept down.
Ok, ok…I did it.
Here is the deal, I am a killer whale. I am not your golden retriever. I don’t play ‘fetch’ as a rule in the wild, unless, it’s time to grab some lunch. You have me in a fish bowl. You may think it is ‘big,’ I do not.
I think the Pacific Ocean is big. There is a difference.
In the real world, I dine on seals and so on. If you insist on dressing like a seal, you ‘latex-wearing freak’, I will in turn assume you are a seal, as well, and treat you accordingly. This would include dragging you under water to see how long you can hold your breath.
I get that you think it is normal behavior for you to ride on my back, have me jump through hoops and be thrilled that some fat woman from South Dakota finds me ‘adorable.’
None of the above is a normal behavior pattern for me.
Hanging out in a pod and having a bunch of places I can visit is normal for me. Have you seen whales giving rides in the San Juan Islands? I think not.
Hey, while I am on this rant, what is with the mackerel? I know you got seals in here, what are the chances of tossing ME one of those once in a while. Let’s give the 5th grade class tour a real neat story to tell Mommy and Daddy when they get home.
And is there any chance I could get some curtains in here?
A little privacy would be nice…
How would you and the redhead from the concession stand like to have everybody watch you two do the ‘wild thing?’
Would you write that as being “educational?”
I thought not.
Shamu
Thursday, November 30, 2006
And Now the Entertinment Report
Pam Wants to Keep Divorce Clean for the Kids
By Natalie Finn
Wed, 29 Nov 2006 04:40:27 PM PST
No matter what led them to end their four-month marriage last weekend, Pamela Anderson wants her public to know that she doesn't want any mudslinging to sully her and Kid Rock's divorce proceedings.
"I'm very concerned with the press on mine and Bob's divorce," the former Baywatch babe said via her Website Tuesday. "I know I have people who want to defend me or people who want to defend Bob, but my children can read—and I'd like to resolve this amicably—not fueling fires—and with dignity.
Who knew that Kid Rock’s real name was Bob? Bob Rock does not work; it has no real punch to it. Sponge Bob works just fine, but not so much for Bob Rock. Bob’s are generally nice guys; they do nice things for folks and do USO tours like nobody can. But hard-core rocker/rappers, just not working for me. No wonder “Kid Bob” is angry at the world, who takes him seriously?
I love that Pam Anderson wants to keep it civil to protect her children from Pam Anderson. Let us just assume that they have no access to the internet. If they did what would they find on Mommy if they Goggled her?
I can only assume that there will be no end to the coverage of this failed marriage. It did last for almost 8 months, probably an eternity from someone’s point of few. One a bright note it has moved Anna Nicole off to the back pages for a bit. Poor misunderstood woman that she is, I’m certain she will find a way to get back in the good graces of ET and we can listen to more heartfelt sobbing.
On a bright note Danny De Vito showed up drunk on the View. It was entertaining and nothing is more fun then watching Barbra Walters scrambling to save the high-end quality of this stitch and bitch session.
I am waiting for the announcement that says Madonna and Angelina Jolie are combing forces to adopt the entire continent of Africa and Parts of Asia. Apparently the adoption criterion is pretty low in these areas. If you have a gold American Express the doors to the orphanage are wide open.
ABC announced today that it would have a spin-off of its hit series “Dancing With The Stars”. It will be called “Tap Dancing With The Stars”. Confirmed to be part of this new venue are Mel Gibson and Michael Richards, who are both currently refining their skills with the media
By Natalie Finn
Wed, 29 Nov 2006 04:40:27 PM PST
No matter what led them to end their four-month marriage last weekend, Pamela Anderson wants her public to know that she doesn't want any mudslinging to sully her and Kid Rock's divorce proceedings.
"I'm very concerned with the press on mine and Bob's divorce," the former Baywatch babe said via her Website Tuesday. "I know I have people who want to defend me or people who want to defend Bob, but my children can read—and I'd like to resolve this amicably—not fueling fires—and with dignity.
Who knew that Kid Rock’s real name was Bob? Bob Rock does not work; it has no real punch to it. Sponge Bob works just fine, but not so much for Bob Rock. Bob’s are generally nice guys; they do nice things for folks and do USO tours like nobody can. But hard-core rocker/rappers, just not working for me. No wonder “Kid Bob” is angry at the world, who takes him seriously?
I love that Pam Anderson wants to keep it civil to protect her children from Pam Anderson. Let us just assume that they have no access to the internet. If they did what would they find on Mommy if they Goggled her?
I can only assume that there will be no end to the coverage of this failed marriage. It did last for almost 8 months, probably an eternity from someone’s point of few. One a bright note it has moved Anna Nicole off to the back pages for a bit. Poor misunderstood woman that she is, I’m certain she will find a way to get back in the good graces of ET and we can listen to more heartfelt sobbing.
On a bright note Danny De Vito showed up drunk on the View. It was entertaining and nothing is more fun then watching Barbra Walters scrambling to save the high-end quality of this stitch and bitch session.
I am waiting for the announcement that says Madonna and Angelina Jolie are combing forces to adopt the entire continent of Africa and Parts of Asia. Apparently the adoption criterion is pretty low in these areas. If you have a gold American Express the doors to the orphanage are wide open.
ABC announced today that it would have a spin-off of its hit series “Dancing With The Stars”. It will be called “Tap Dancing With The Stars”. Confirmed to be part of this new venue are Mel Gibson and Michael Richards, who are both currently refining their skills with the media
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
A Letter, What You Don't Have Email????
UNITED NATIONS - In an open letter, Iran’s President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad urged the American people Wednesday to demand the withdrawal of U.S. troops and blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah.
I will be the 1st to say we as a nation have some issues we need to resolve. That being said it is our nation, our country and our backyard, we will work them out, we always do. What I don’t need is so some Bizarro whack job from any country telling us that we need to do to clean up our house. It’s our house bought and paid for by men and women who don’t hide behind anything other then a love for their country.
Last time I checked, this is still a pretty cool place to live. We have some quirks, but I can’t remember the last time we offed any women for committing adultery in the town square. Man you dudes most have some huge ratings for the evening news….
Give it a break, why don’t you and Enis the penis from North Korea consider a new hobby. Personal freedoms jumps to mind.
I will give you that some of our right wing religious nut cases are pretty strange, but hey preaching to the choir I guess in your case.
Thanks for the letter; it was so considerate of you to take the time. Please take no offense when it gets filed next to the ones offering no interest for 10 years and the cheap Viagra spam.
Yes I get that we should play by the rules, but maybe you could address which rules they are? This whole car bombing thing seems a bit tricky from a rules perspective.
It is the Holiday season so let me send a quick response while wishing you a wonderful Christmas.
Bite me.
I will be the 1st to say we as a nation have some issues we need to resolve. That being said it is our nation, our country and our backyard, we will work them out, we always do. What I don’t need is so some Bizarro whack job from any country telling us that we need to do to clean up our house. It’s our house bought and paid for by men and women who don’t hide behind anything other then a love for their country.
Last time I checked, this is still a pretty cool place to live. We have some quirks, but I can’t remember the last time we offed any women for committing adultery in the town square. Man you dudes most have some huge ratings for the evening news….
Give it a break, why don’t you and Enis the penis from North Korea consider a new hobby. Personal freedoms jumps to mind.
I will give you that some of our right wing religious nut cases are pretty strange, but hey preaching to the choir I guess in your case.
Thanks for the letter; it was so considerate of you to take the time. Please take no offense when it gets filed next to the ones offering no interest for 10 years and the cheap Viagra spam.
Yes I get that we should play by the rules, but maybe you could address which rules they are? This whole car bombing thing seems a bit tricky from a rules perspective.
It is the Holiday season so let me send a quick response while wishing you a wonderful Christmas.
Bite me.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Could Have Made Money On That Bet
13 years ago today, 5 good friends, and I played golf at the Louie Prima golf course in Slidell Louisiana. Some of us played with a bit of a hangover from a few too many drinks in the French Quarter. It should be pointed out here that these few drinks had been consumed over a period of 5 days.
We also had breakfast at the Waffle House and booked rooms at the Holiday Inn in Covington Louisiana. Later that day, a bunch of us watched the much-anticipated USC and Notre Dame game. I don’t recall who won.
Later that afternoon my friend Jeff and I watched The Last of The Mohicans, and we discussed the course of life and the many changes it can bring. I recall that conversation very well. Jeff had seen me go through many changes, well before we became friends. I am glad we ended up being friends.
The mob and I made our way to Slidell United Methodist for the evening’s commitment.
We were ushered off to a room in the sanctuary where we consumed a bottle of Canadian whiskey and got dressed in semi matching suits. I say semi because my buddy Don split the pants of his tux and we scrambled to finding a pair of pants that would match. Out came the pair of black golfing pants from the round we had played in the morning. Close enough we decided.
We waited for our cue and joked about a ton of stuff, mostly it had to do with the fact that no one would have ever imagined ourselves in this place for this very occasion.
As I stood at the front of the Church I vaguely heard the music and looked in awe at the beautiful young woman and her father who were walking slowly toward me.
13 years ago today I married my best friend. And to those of you who were there, we both say thanks for believing in us
A lot has changed since then. We have all watched these and many of us have been there for each other as friends through it all. Our beautiful friend Laura, who was in charge of getting people to just sign the guest book, lost her battle with cancer last year. We miss her a lot. Katrina destroyed the town we partied in and the church we were married in. We have never had the courage to go back and look at what remains.
So today I am pleased to announce that my Seahawks won and my bride’s beloved Patriots lost. For our anniversary my wife bought me a statue of a penguin sitting in a beach chair just chilling, I got her and autographed baseball signed by Curt Schilling.
Many folks said we were far too different to ever marry, let alone date, they were right. Glad we looked beyond the differences.
We also had breakfast at the Waffle House and booked rooms at the Holiday Inn in Covington Louisiana. Later that day, a bunch of us watched the much-anticipated USC and Notre Dame game. I don’t recall who won.
Later that afternoon my friend Jeff and I watched The Last of The Mohicans, and we discussed the course of life and the many changes it can bring. I recall that conversation very well. Jeff had seen me go through many changes, well before we became friends. I am glad we ended up being friends.
The mob and I made our way to Slidell United Methodist for the evening’s commitment.
We were ushered off to a room in the sanctuary where we consumed a bottle of Canadian whiskey and got dressed in semi matching suits. I say semi because my buddy Don split the pants of his tux and we scrambled to finding a pair of pants that would match. Out came the pair of black golfing pants from the round we had played in the morning. Close enough we decided.
We waited for our cue and joked about a ton of stuff, mostly it had to do with the fact that no one would have ever imagined ourselves in this place for this very occasion.
As I stood at the front of the Church I vaguely heard the music and looked in awe at the beautiful young woman and her father who were walking slowly toward me.
13 years ago today I married my best friend. And to those of you who were there, we both say thanks for believing in us
A lot has changed since then. We have all watched these and many of us have been there for each other as friends through it all. Our beautiful friend Laura, who was in charge of getting people to just sign the guest book, lost her battle with cancer last year. We miss her a lot. Katrina destroyed the town we partied in and the church we were married in. We have never had the courage to go back and look at what remains.
So today I am pleased to announce that my Seahawks won and my bride’s beloved Patriots lost. For our anniversary my wife bought me a statue of a penguin sitting in a beach chair just chilling, I got her and autographed baseball signed by Curt Schilling.
Many folks said we were far too different to ever marry, let alone date, they were right. Glad we looked beyond the differences.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
The Editor Had The Day Off
You know I love signs and here is one I saw yesterday. “I’m not an alcoholic, I’m a DRUNK, Alcoholics go to meetings”.
Speaking of signs, do you think Donald “send my resume to Halliburton” Rumsfield saw any sign that said he might be toast? Is it a sign when your boss say’s that he supports you all the way and then drops you like a bad vote in Virginia?
I love elections, though I admit that this year I did not vote. Apparently the state of Texas lost my voter card and I was unclear where the VFW hall was on the Farm to Machinery road 646. I love our system because at the end the votes decide who will lead this country. It can be a humbling experience at times for politicians who have gone beyond the normal reality check. We have that right because of a democracy that works. I agree we have all gotten caught up in the red state blue state BS and it is nice to see we may be more united then we thought. The influx of moderate and conservative democrats should bring a nice balance to the Kerrys and Boxers of the more left wing Democratic Party.
While watching the coverage on the election I noted that one candidate actually won even though she was dead. The newscaster was quick to point out that the losing candidate was very much alive. This is not all bad news for the living/losing candidate. John Ashcroft also lost an election to a deceased candidate and went onto a fine singing career and to be Attorney General. Tom Delayed was still on the ballot here in Texas, but he lost. Which is a good thing since he no longer lives here and may in fact be a major player in the loss for the Republican losses on Tuesday.
I have to admit that as much I am optimistic, a part of me is concerned that another Jack Abramoff will appear on the horizon. I worry about more Foley’s and his ilk still being around. Since elections are similar to Divorce court, better known as liars court, we can only go forward on the assumptions and promises that were made by the people we elected. And yet with all it’s flaws and quirks it is a great sytem.
Speaking of signs, do you think Donald “send my resume to Halliburton” Rumsfield saw any sign that said he might be toast? Is it a sign when your boss say’s that he supports you all the way and then drops you like a bad vote in Virginia?
I love elections, though I admit that this year I did not vote. Apparently the state of Texas lost my voter card and I was unclear where the VFW hall was on the Farm to Machinery road 646. I love our system because at the end the votes decide who will lead this country. It can be a humbling experience at times for politicians who have gone beyond the normal reality check. We have that right because of a democracy that works. I agree we have all gotten caught up in the red state blue state BS and it is nice to see we may be more united then we thought. The influx of moderate and conservative democrats should bring a nice balance to the Kerrys and Boxers of the more left wing Democratic Party.
While watching the coverage on the election I noted that one candidate actually won even though she was dead. The newscaster was quick to point out that the losing candidate was very much alive. This is not all bad news for the living/losing candidate. John Ashcroft also lost an election to a deceased candidate and went onto a fine singing career and to be Attorney General. Tom Delayed was still on the ballot here in Texas, but he lost. Which is a good thing since he no longer lives here and may in fact be a major player in the loss for the Republican losses on Tuesday.
I have to admit that as much I am optimistic, a part of me is concerned that another Jack Abramoff will appear on the horizon. I worry about more Foley’s and his ilk still being around. Since elections are similar to Divorce court, better known as liars court, we can only go forward on the assumptions and promises that were made by the people we elected. And yet with all it’s flaws and quirks it is a great sytem.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Manna Dummy, not Massage
The Rev. Ted Haggard is apparently the GOP’s answer to John Kerry.
Man, that’s gotta rub you the wrong way…
First, you have Mark “what a page turner’ Foley and now a leader of the ‘Religious Right’ goes a little jerky on the Grand Old Party. What is the deal here?
In Foley’s case, the Priest, who was said to have molested Foley as a youth, denies they ever had sex. Merely some skinny-dipping and massage... In Haggard’s case, there was simply Meth and massage, no sex here, either. Well, so the Reverend says.
Massage seems to be the common denominator. It is nice when a Catholic Priest and a fundamentalist minister can agree on something; usually they are at odds.
Is it just me, or does it seem as if someone is just pulling our chains?
I’m amazed at the heights people will reach before they throw themselves to the ground. I could get into a long list of one-liners here, but it would seem pointless.
My fundamental belief here is that it is never a very good plan to put your trust in the hands of those who actually think they are on a mission from God.
In Haggard’s case, put anything in the hands of a male hooker with access to CNN.
I will be the first to say I am in no position to think of myself as a better or less flawed person. That being said, I did not influence a ton of votes based on family values.
Now the part I really don’t get. Meth!!! Are you out of your freaking mind? Chris Rock, once said “Meth was the white man’s crack.” They don’t got much whiter than old Ted.
Have you seen what this crap is made of? I suspect the “I really need a massage” thing had been brewing for quite sometime with Rev. Ted. But Meth? Where the hell does that come from?
Once again, you find that by using a middleman to talk and seek advice from your God, you might lose sight of the simplicity of belief.
Sometimes it is much easier to simply go… directly to the source.
Man, that’s gotta rub you the wrong way…
First, you have Mark “what a page turner’ Foley and now a leader of the ‘Religious Right’ goes a little jerky on the Grand Old Party. What is the deal here?
In Foley’s case, the Priest, who was said to have molested Foley as a youth, denies they ever had sex. Merely some skinny-dipping and massage... In Haggard’s case, there was simply Meth and massage, no sex here, either. Well, so the Reverend says.
Massage seems to be the common denominator. It is nice when a Catholic Priest and a fundamentalist minister can agree on something; usually they are at odds.
Is it just me, or does it seem as if someone is just pulling our chains?
I’m amazed at the heights people will reach before they throw themselves to the ground. I could get into a long list of one-liners here, but it would seem pointless.
My fundamental belief here is that it is never a very good plan to put your trust in the hands of those who actually think they are on a mission from God.
In Haggard’s case, put anything in the hands of a male hooker with access to CNN.
I will be the first to say I am in no position to think of myself as a better or less flawed person. That being said, I did not influence a ton of votes based on family values.
Now the part I really don’t get. Meth!!! Are you out of your freaking mind? Chris Rock, once said “Meth was the white man’s crack.” They don’t got much whiter than old Ted.
Have you seen what this crap is made of? I suspect the “I really need a massage” thing had been brewing for quite sometime with Rev. Ted. But Meth? Where the hell does that come from?
Once again, you find that by using a middleman to talk and seek advice from your God, you might lose sight of the simplicity of belief.
Sometimes it is much easier to simply go… directly to the source.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
What do you mean I'm wrong?
So there you are, things are going nicely, and everything is falling into what looks like a good plan. You can actually see some major progress taking place and the time for a real change is just around the corner.
And then, ‘John Kerry’ happens. And, no way did anyone see that coming?
You have to believe there is some serious tap dancing going on to resolve this wonderful “Press” moment. As of this morning, Kerry has agreed to ‘shut up’ for a while till this whole bad joke goes away.
(Usually allow for 24 hours for this to fall out of the media scrutiny… then hope someone, somewhere takes the spotlight away. I look for another news breaking story on Anna Nicole to get it down.)
I am neither Democrat nor Republican, though I do have a great admiration for Senator John McCain, and find it fun to watch politicians do what they do so well… trip, stumble and fall. Ah, were it just limited to the wonderful world of politics?
But, let’s face it… the best-laid plans of mice and men, and so on.
It just seems that there will always be that one statement… you just wish had never been said. Stupid comments are not limited to the Terrell Owens and John Kerry’s of this world. Don’t believe me, just sit back and listen.
You would be amazed at what you will see and hear in a given day. Then for even more fun, listen carefully to what comes from your own mouth at times. I have this punch in the gut feeling that as soon as I say something so amazingly stupid, even I flinch at it.
My first boss back in 1976 was an idiot. This is not a personal feeling as much as an observation. He did and said things that would make the most hardened HR veteran flinch.
But, there is one thing that I will always remember. He told me, I believe, after chewing my butt out for being such a bad worker and I quote “ Your work is so bad even the women look better than you.” He told me that whatever I did, never be afraid to say you made a mistake. He was a bit more colorful in his explanation than that, but you get the drift. His point was that once you say, “Yep, I was wrong,” then what is really left to discuss? Sage advice from a guy other supervisors referred to as “Beach Ball”.
So in hindsight, let me say “I was wrong” to many folks over the years. I learned and hopefully gained from it, who knows one of these days, Kerry and the like will learn to say the same thing.
And then, ‘John Kerry’ happens. And, no way did anyone see that coming?
You have to believe there is some serious tap dancing going on to resolve this wonderful “Press” moment. As of this morning, Kerry has agreed to ‘shut up’ for a while till this whole bad joke goes away.
(Usually allow for 24 hours for this to fall out of the media scrutiny… then hope someone, somewhere takes the spotlight away. I look for another news breaking story on Anna Nicole to get it down.)
I am neither Democrat nor Republican, though I do have a great admiration for Senator John McCain, and find it fun to watch politicians do what they do so well… trip, stumble and fall. Ah, were it just limited to the wonderful world of politics?
But, let’s face it… the best-laid plans of mice and men, and so on.
It just seems that there will always be that one statement… you just wish had never been said. Stupid comments are not limited to the Terrell Owens and John Kerry’s of this world. Don’t believe me, just sit back and listen.
You would be amazed at what you will see and hear in a given day. Then for even more fun, listen carefully to what comes from your own mouth at times. I have this punch in the gut feeling that as soon as I say something so amazingly stupid, even I flinch at it.
My first boss back in 1976 was an idiot. This is not a personal feeling as much as an observation. He did and said things that would make the most hardened HR veteran flinch.
But, there is one thing that I will always remember. He told me, I believe, after chewing my butt out for being such a bad worker and I quote “ Your work is so bad even the women look better than you.” He told me that whatever I did, never be afraid to say you made a mistake. He was a bit more colorful in his explanation than that, but you get the drift. His point was that once you say, “Yep, I was wrong,” then what is really left to discuss? Sage advice from a guy other supervisors referred to as “Beach Ball”.
So in hindsight, let me say “I was wrong” to many folks over the years. I learned and hopefully gained from it, who knows one of these days, Kerry and the like will learn to say the same thing.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Did You See Something Run Across the Carpet?
I think that there is no better sleep then when the person you share your life, and bed with, gets up early and the bed is all yours. This not to say you don’t love the person any less, but now you can stretch for all your worth. It is the best 10 seconds of my life.
The worst sleep is when the thunder shakes our house and I apparently becoming the rallying point for 2 45-pound dogs and my wife. You couldn’t fit lightning between those three and they take on the powers of the dryer thingy that clings to your clothes after they come out of the dryer. You know, the fabric softener sheet that accompanies you to the store or work, generally in a spot only other people can see.
Let’s talk about parking lots and the premature joy you get when you find the elusive parking place. You begin to pull into the spot, only to discover the shopping cart left by your fellow consumer. What does it take to walk your chubby butt 15 feet to put the cart in the cart-gathering corral? I have watched people struggle to get the cart to sit still so they can abandon the damn thing. It seems to take more effort to be an idiot, than it would take to just put it in its right place.
Do you enjoy waving at the moron at the red light, you know the one who just tailgated you and then blew by you to beat you to the traffic light, or is it just me? My wife has a great saying for these fools, “You should have gotten up earlier.” For some odd reason I get a big kick out of it when they blow by you and cut off a ton of folks to get to the mega church.
We had a mouse in our place the other night. We chased it around with a broom for a bit and looked for it with a flashlight and other assorted weapons of WMDS, Weapons of Mouse Destruction. It stayed well hidden and eluded us; we named it Osama. The following day I went to Lowes and bought some mouse catching gear. My daughter claims every time she calls me, I’m at Lowes. I’m not sure what her point is? There are worse habits. So I placed the sticky traps around the house. I did this with a certain amount of remorse realizing this might be a cruel way to go for Osama. But then given the options I assumed it would not simply leave on it’s own. The next morning I was having coffee and shooting it out with drug runners, Scarface is not for the weak of heart, when I heard what sounded like a scream from our living room. Turns out Osama was caught, well, like a mouse in a trap. Let me be the 1st to say that trying to pickup a sticky mouse trap, with a really pissed off mouse, is not easy. Having your spouse next to you shrieking does nothing to enhance this experience.
Later I called Terminix and requested they come out to look at our rodent issue. The representative was shocked that I had used a sticky trap. He explained that these were very bad could lead to all kinds of diseases. It never occurred to me to actually leave the mouse in the trap for days, but hey he is the professional. The following day the “Pro from Dover” showed up and inspected out mouse infested home. He reported back that I had caught the only culprit and that the sticky traps worked really well with Peanut Butter. Apparently he was not aware of the company stance on sticky traps.
The worst sleep is when the thunder shakes our house and I apparently becoming the rallying point for 2 45-pound dogs and my wife. You couldn’t fit lightning between those three and they take on the powers of the dryer thingy that clings to your clothes after they come out of the dryer. You know, the fabric softener sheet that accompanies you to the store or work, generally in a spot only other people can see.
Let’s talk about parking lots and the premature joy you get when you find the elusive parking place. You begin to pull into the spot, only to discover the shopping cart left by your fellow consumer. What does it take to walk your chubby butt 15 feet to put the cart in the cart-gathering corral? I have watched people struggle to get the cart to sit still so they can abandon the damn thing. It seems to take more effort to be an idiot, than it would take to just put it in its right place.
Do you enjoy waving at the moron at the red light, you know the one who just tailgated you and then blew by you to beat you to the traffic light, or is it just me? My wife has a great saying for these fools, “You should have gotten up earlier.” For some odd reason I get a big kick out of it when they blow by you and cut off a ton of folks to get to the mega church.
We had a mouse in our place the other night. We chased it around with a broom for a bit and looked for it with a flashlight and other assorted weapons of WMDS, Weapons of Mouse Destruction. It stayed well hidden and eluded us; we named it Osama. The following day I went to Lowes and bought some mouse catching gear. My daughter claims every time she calls me, I’m at Lowes. I’m not sure what her point is? There are worse habits. So I placed the sticky traps around the house. I did this with a certain amount of remorse realizing this might be a cruel way to go for Osama. But then given the options I assumed it would not simply leave on it’s own. The next morning I was having coffee and shooting it out with drug runners, Scarface is not for the weak of heart, when I heard what sounded like a scream from our living room. Turns out Osama was caught, well, like a mouse in a trap. Let me be the 1st to say that trying to pickup a sticky mouse trap, with a really pissed off mouse, is not easy. Having your spouse next to you shrieking does nothing to enhance this experience.
Later I called Terminix and requested they come out to look at our rodent issue. The representative was shocked that I had used a sticky trap. He explained that these were very bad could lead to all kinds of diseases. It never occurred to me to actually leave the mouse in the trap for days, but hey he is the professional. The following day the “Pro from Dover” showed up and inspected out mouse infested home. He reported back that I had caught the only culprit and that the sticky traps worked really well with Peanut Butter. Apparently he was not aware of the company stance on sticky traps.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Reading is Fun
And still my favorite pastime: Bumper stickers and business signs.
The local radiator shop, “This is a great place to take a leak.”
Back of a Suv in Mississippi, “Eat rice, potatoes make your butt too big”
Here in Texas, “Rebel Bitch and proud of it” and on the same truck “If its hard, I’m riding it.”
Back of a Honda Accord “Maybe you would drive better if I shoved that cell phone up you’re a**”
A sign along high 146 “ Vasectomy, no needle, no scalpel, no pain” And how does that work exactly, rubber band?
Also on 146, “ Ca$h 4 Good Runnin cars” Spelling however is surpassed by the correct accent.
And across the street, “Fat and Fun Autos” I’m hoping someone merely forgot the “s”.
Years back in California, we often bought doughnuts at Osters. Turns out when the family bought this business, the F had fallen of the original sign, and English being a new language…
The local radiator shop, “This is a great place to take a leak.”
Back of a Suv in Mississippi, “Eat rice, potatoes make your butt too big”
Here in Texas, “Rebel Bitch and proud of it” and on the same truck “If its hard, I’m riding it.”
Back of a Honda Accord “Maybe you would drive better if I shoved that cell phone up you’re a**”
A sign along high 146 “ Vasectomy, no needle, no scalpel, no pain” And how does that work exactly, rubber band?
Also on 146, “ Ca$h 4 Good Runnin cars” Spelling however is surpassed by the correct accent.
And across the street, “Fat and Fun Autos” I’m hoping someone merely forgot the “s”.
Years back in California, we often bought doughnuts at Osters. Turns out when the family bought this business, the F had fallen of the original sign, and English being a new language…
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Song of the Week
They say Pete Seeger wrote it, I think he just added a tune to Solomon’s words and added a line.
Still I like it, it reminds my mom of me.
To every thing, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time for peace, I swear it's not too late
Still I like it, it reminds my mom of me.
To every thing, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time for peace, I swear it's not too late
Constant Thought Procees
WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. - Mark Foley plans to reveal the name of a clergyman he says abused him as a teenager, a move his attorney said would deflate claims the former congressman fabricated the allegations as an excuse for sending sexually explicit e-mails to teenage pages.
Please, oh please, let it be Jimmy Swaggert he names. Oral Roberts, Jim Bakker or maybe Father O-something will do.
Let me be the first to admit, there are probably direct links to pedophiles being molested as children. I am not on board with how this explains Foley’s ability to use ‘Text Messaging.’ I still think this is one sick man who has unfortunately, reached a certain amount of authority and was not afraid to abuse it.
On a different note, let’s discuss Anna Nicole Smith. Man, talk about trailer trash with a credit line. I feel badly that her son passed away, no one should have to lose a child or grandchild. Trust me; I know this from a very personal level.
That being said, could we please stop covering this cheap version of a Tennessee Williams novel? Her claim to fame is a trip to ‘Jiffy Boob’, marrying an 80-something geezer and showing up ‘wasted’ at a ton of events. Hell, I know tons of folks with equal talent; I live in Texas, and there is no shortage here. And the final thing that has made her famous is her son’s overdose in the maternity ward. You just can’t make this stuff up. I’m looking forward to Brittany “your husband was a featured star on WWE Raw” Spears rushing to her defense. Well, maybe dreading is a better way of putting it.
Next subject is nearer and dearer to my bumper then most…
I worry about Terrorists and yet, I am terrified of “soccer moms” a lot more.
Nothing is more frightening than the “Buffy the Vanpool Slayer” as she makes her way through traffic, late for God knows what. Cell phone firmly in place and coffee at the ready, this odd version of A.J. Foyt is not afraid to cut you off in a New York minute. The size of her SUV, complete with “Fish” decal on the back of the rolling tank,certainly goes a long way to empowering her and clearly no one has a more important mission than her.
Please, oh please, let it be Jimmy Swaggert he names. Oral Roberts, Jim Bakker or maybe Father O-something will do.
Let me be the first to admit, there are probably direct links to pedophiles being molested as children. I am not on board with how this explains Foley’s ability to use ‘Text Messaging.’ I still think this is one sick man who has unfortunately, reached a certain amount of authority and was not afraid to abuse it.
On a different note, let’s discuss Anna Nicole Smith. Man, talk about trailer trash with a credit line. I feel badly that her son passed away, no one should have to lose a child or grandchild. Trust me; I know this from a very personal level.
That being said, could we please stop covering this cheap version of a Tennessee Williams novel? Her claim to fame is a trip to ‘Jiffy Boob’, marrying an 80-something geezer and showing up ‘wasted’ at a ton of events. Hell, I know tons of folks with equal talent; I live in Texas, and there is no shortage here. And the final thing that has made her famous is her son’s overdose in the maternity ward. You just can’t make this stuff up. I’m looking forward to Brittany “your husband was a featured star on WWE Raw” Spears rushing to her defense. Well, maybe dreading is a better way of putting it.
Next subject is nearer and dearer to my bumper then most…
I worry about Terrorists and yet, I am terrified of “soccer moms” a lot more.
Nothing is more frightening than the “Buffy the Vanpool Slayer” as she makes her way through traffic, late for God knows what. Cell phone firmly in place and coffee at the ready, this odd version of A.J. Foyt is not afraid to cut you off in a New York minute. The size of her SUV, complete with “Fish” decal on the back of the rolling tank,certainly goes a long way to empowering her and clearly no one has a more important mission than her.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Do I Turn Here????
The best way to get to Boyle, Mississippi from Houston, Texas will drive you ‘nuts,’ if you are a big fan of the Interstate freeway system. There’s no getting on The “5”, drive like hell until you get to your destination…ain’t gonna happen.
Once you get onto the Beltway in Houston and head north, you soon discover the Beltway isn’t quite finished. So you get through all the stoplights and finally get to the ‘59’, the Fun has just begun.
But, hey, let’s just leap forward 7 hours to travel 350 miles so far… to where you make the cutoff from I-20 onto Highway 165 outside of Monroe, Louisiana. Here you head northeast towards Arkansas, one red light after another awaits you for the first 15 miles.
Apparently, each one-mile stretch between lights is a NASCAR training ground and if you aren’t prepared to “floor it”, be ready for Bubba to drive his Ford 250 into your tail pipe. Stopping on this stretch of the Talladega for fuel will require a 4-wheel drift into the local Shell, accompanied by an air horn blast from a semi with a “How’s my driving?” bumper sticker on his “reefer” unit.
Getting gas, of course, is half the reason for the stop and one can only hope, the restrooms are, well, if not clean, actually not a testing ground for the Disease Control Center.
A few years back, my good friend, Howard and I drove from Charleston, South Carolina to Los Angeles. It was on this trip, I discovered that the Big Truck Stops are not the place to find an undiscovered hidden gem for fine cuisine and clean restrooms. I actually convinced myself a few more miles on the road were certainly better than using these ‘state of the art facilities.’
Well, regardless, 165 consist of a series of small towns, then wide-open stretches and then more small towns. Cruise Control is an option that you don’t get to use much. Just outside of Bonita is a ‘flashing sign’ that says “Speed Trap Ahead”…not a little sign, but a big billboard. Apparently, somebody is really annoyed with the local police or this is a very clever ploy by the local village to discourage “Yankees” from blowing through town. Worked for me.
When you get into Arkansas, you enter the land of catfish farms, rice fields and road construction. The Southern term “fixin to go” as it turns out must apply to all the roadwork in the South. Males in matching outfits do much of this work, not so much Nomex, as stripped pants and shirts. In Arkansas, these matching outfits come in black and white stripes; while in Mississippi, they are more of a green and white tone. Mississippi is more fashion aware it would seem.
The thing about rice farms is they seem to attract bugs... very large bugs with wings that seem to enjoy ending their short lives by dive-bombing onto your windshield. I believe you can pick up around 75 pounds of these little critters on your grill.
Ok, then…so we cross the Mississippi River on a 2-lane steel bridge that was built roughly around the Civil War or so it would seem. There is no way to get across this narrow, wobbly thing without a Semi suddenly appearing from the other direction. I am convinced there is a spotter and his sole job is to send Big Rigs in your direction at the narrowest point of the bridge. I always think of the movie “Duel” when crossing this bridge.
We finally make it to Greenville, Mississippi. We are now in the official home of NO Starbucks and drinking water is only that in name. We decide to stop at the local Kroger’s to stock up on some supplies. As we get there, we notice a local TV film crew and opt out of stopping and proceed onto Boyle.
We decide to hit the super duper, really freaking BIG Wal-Mart in Cleveland to get the essentials we will need. On the way back to Boyle, we decide to refuel and look for a carwash. There are 2 stations in town that have “Drive Thru” carwashes, the Exxon and the Shell stations.
Unfortunately, during one night, someone had stolen every piece of the carwash, except the building, at the Exxon. I suspect the Shell folks on this one.
We fill up our car and enter the car wash to remove the dead bugs. As the Vortex blowers shake rattle and roll the vehicle, I notice that we need to exit the carwash down a red clay, dirt road. Genius marketing plan! It’s not like you can use the carwash at the Exxon to rinse off the newly acquired dirt. As I said, I suspect the Shell folks of the aforementioned larceny of the Exxon Carwash.
So we get to our destination and settle down. After a fine meal, we watch the local news. It seems that the local Delta news hour has a segment that is a bit of investigative news reporting.
Instead of “60 Minutes,” it is more like 60 seconds. The name of the piece is “What’s That, You Say?”
Cut to the local Kroger’s in Greenville where the “Mike Wallace” of the Delta is doing a story on folks who merely drive across parking lots and don’t use the clearly marked lanes. Unbelievably, they simply drive over empty parking spots and make u-turns at random… if you look closely, you can see a black SUV with Texas plates pulling a clearly illegal u-turn …
Once you get onto the Beltway in Houston and head north, you soon discover the Beltway isn’t quite finished. So you get through all the stoplights and finally get to the ‘59’, the Fun has just begun.
But, hey, let’s just leap forward 7 hours to travel 350 miles so far… to where you make the cutoff from I-20 onto Highway 165 outside of Monroe, Louisiana. Here you head northeast towards Arkansas, one red light after another awaits you for the first 15 miles.
Apparently, each one-mile stretch between lights is a NASCAR training ground and if you aren’t prepared to “floor it”, be ready for Bubba to drive his Ford 250 into your tail pipe. Stopping on this stretch of the Talladega for fuel will require a 4-wheel drift into the local Shell, accompanied by an air horn blast from a semi with a “How’s my driving?” bumper sticker on his “reefer” unit.
Getting gas, of course, is half the reason for the stop and one can only hope, the restrooms are, well, if not clean, actually not a testing ground for the Disease Control Center.
A few years back, my good friend, Howard and I drove from Charleston, South Carolina to Los Angeles. It was on this trip, I discovered that the Big Truck Stops are not the place to find an undiscovered hidden gem for fine cuisine and clean restrooms. I actually convinced myself a few more miles on the road were certainly better than using these ‘state of the art facilities.’
Well, regardless, 165 consist of a series of small towns, then wide-open stretches and then more small towns. Cruise Control is an option that you don’t get to use much. Just outside of Bonita is a ‘flashing sign’ that says “Speed Trap Ahead”…not a little sign, but a big billboard. Apparently, somebody is really annoyed with the local police or this is a very clever ploy by the local village to discourage “Yankees” from blowing through town. Worked for me.
When you get into Arkansas, you enter the land of catfish farms, rice fields and road construction. The Southern term “fixin to go” as it turns out must apply to all the roadwork in the South. Males in matching outfits do much of this work, not so much Nomex, as stripped pants and shirts. In Arkansas, these matching outfits come in black and white stripes; while in Mississippi, they are more of a green and white tone. Mississippi is more fashion aware it would seem.
The thing about rice farms is they seem to attract bugs... very large bugs with wings that seem to enjoy ending their short lives by dive-bombing onto your windshield. I believe you can pick up around 75 pounds of these little critters on your grill.
Ok, then…so we cross the Mississippi River on a 2-lane steel bridge that was built roughly around the Civil War or so it would seem. There is no way to get across this narrow, wobbly thing without a Semi suddenly appearing from the other direction. I am convinced there is a spotter and his sole job is to send Big Rigs in your direction at the narrowest point of the bridge. I always think of the movie “Duel” when crossing this bridge.
We finally make it to Greenville, Mississippi. We are now in the official home of NO Starbucks and drinking water is only that in name. We decide to stop at the local Kroger’s to stock up on some supplies. As we get there, we notice a local TV film crew and opt out of stopping and proceed onto Boyle.
We decide to hit the super duper, really freaking BIG Wal-Mart in Cleveland to get the essentials we will need. On the way back to Boyle, we decide to refuel and look for a carwash. There are 2 stations in town that have “Drive Thru” carwashes, the Exxon and the Shell stations.
Unfortunately, during one night, someone had stolen every piece of the carwash, except the building, at the Exxon. I suspect the Shell folks on this one.
We fill up our car and enter the car wash to remove the dead bugs. As the Vortex blowers shake rattle and roll the vehicle, I notice that we need to exit the carwash down a red clay, dirt road. Genius marketing plan! It’s not like you can use the carwash at the Exxon to rinse off the newly acquired dirt. As I said, I suspect the Shell folks of the aforementioned larceny of the Exxon Carwash.
So we get to our destination and settle down. After a fine meal, we watch the local news. It seems that the local Delta news hour has a segment that is a bit of investigative news reporting.
Instead of “60 Minutes,” it is more like 60 seconds. The name of the piece is “What’s That, You Say?”
Cut to the local Kroger’s in Greenville where the “Mike Wallace” of the Delta is doing a story on folks who merely drive across parking lots and don’t use the clearly marked lanes. Unbelievably, they simply drive over empty parking spots and make u-turns at random… if you look closely, you can see a black SUV with Texas plates pulling a clearly illegal u-turn …
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
To my Girls
Lately I have been doing a great deal of thinking in regards to the changes and choices we face in our lives. Maybe for some it is the mixed feeling of moving on from something they have done all their life and now a new chance beckons. Perhaps watching parents as they age and begin that last walk has gotten my attention, dignity is all I pray for them. I think about so many friends I have seen go through changes in their lives and I am amazed at their courage. I think about the joy for life my oldest daughter has given me and the "awesome" gift she has given with my grandchildren. I often think the beautiful woman, who is my wife, will sober up and show me the door. But mostly I find myself thinking about the choices we make and the roads we travel down and I’m not sure better words were ever written then those by Bruce Springsteen.
The Price You Pay:
Bruce Springsteen
You make up your mind, you choose the chance you take
You ride to where the highway ends and the desert breaks
Out on to an open road you ride until the day
You learn to sleep at night with the price you pay
Now with their hands held high, they reached out for the open skies
And in one last breath they built the roads they'd ride to their death
Driving on through the night, unable to break away
From the restless pull of the price you pay
CHORUS
Oh, the price you pay, oh, the price you pay
Now you can't walk away from the price you pay
Now they'd come so far and they'd waited so long
Just to end up caught in a dream where everything goes wrong
Where the dark of night holds back the light of day
And you've gotta stand and fight for the price you pay
CHORUS
Little girl down on the strand
With that pretty little baby in your hands
Do you remember the story of the promised land
How he crossed the desert sands
And could not enter the chosen land
On the banks of the river he stayed
To face the price you pay
So let the games start, you better run you little wild heart
You can run through all the nights and all the days
But just across the county line, a stranger passing through put up a sign
That counts the men fallen away to the price you pay,
and girl before the end of the day,
I'm gonna tear it down and throw it away
The Price You Pay:
Bruce Springsteen
You make up your mind, you choose the chance you take
You ride to where the highway ends and the desert breaks
Out on to an open road you ride until the day
You learn to sleep at night with the price you pay
Now with their hands held high, they reached out for the open skies
And in one last breath they built the roads they'd ride to their death
Driving on through the night, unable to break away
From the restless pull of the price you pay
CHORUS
Oh, the price you pay, oh, the price you pay
Now you can't walk away from the price you pay
Now they'd come so far and they'd waited so long
Just to end up caught in a dream where everything goes wrong
Where the dark of night holds back the light of day
And you've gotta stand and fight for the price you pay
CHORUS
Little girl down on the strand
With that pretty little baby in your hands
Do you remember the story of the promised land
How he crossed the desert sands
And could not enter the chosen land
On the banks of the river he stayed
To face the price you pay
So let the games start, you better run you little wild heart
You can run through all the nights and all the days
But just across the county line, a stranger passing through put up a sign
That counts the men fallen away to the price you pay,
and girl before the end of the day,
I'm gonna tear it down and throw it away
Covered in the Manual
“A wink is as good as a nod to a blind horse”…… Rod Stewart
The Congress, House of Representatives and Senate, are a group of people from all over the country whose sole purpose is to represent the people from their District and to maintain a civil and honorable reputation to the country they serve. There are no concerns for party lines since this would defeat the overall good of the nation. Misconduct or accepting influence from outside groups will not be tolerated, and can result in disciplinary actions up to and including termination.
Ok, then, who is really that shocked to find a “Text Messaging Pedophile” in Congress? Can we see a show of hands?
Thanks.
Mark Foley is an idiot at best and the other options are not much better. I would argue that Foley is not the “issue” as much a system that allowed him to exist. As the saying goes “any team is only as good as its weakest player”.
Well, thank God that only happened in this one isolated case, not like it could happen anywhere else. I mean seriously now… what a nightmare this might be.
Try to imagine working with someone you "kinda" know has some ‘weird’ little quirks. The occasional ‘off colored’ story, a slightly askew view of people from varying ethnic backgrounds or perhaps even that extremely rare “social gift”… which clearly is not likely in today’s climate.
I’m sure all of us would jump and make that person face the consequences of their behavior. Lord knows that person would be dealt with swiftly and so on.
Rest assured there are policies written, discussions given on this very subject, and should something actually happen…and let’s be honest here, they rarely do. Things would be dealt with appropriately. Or are they? Not like we are simply going to ignore this issue or just take the person aside and give them a friendly “heads up” on the rumored behavior.
Of course, another known fact is that bad behavior is almost always only found in the lower ranks in many places. It is an unwritten law, a bit like a “Man Law” that once you reach a certain level in your job (whatever your job might be) you behave better with each promotion. It’s true. Why would I make that up?
It’s not like someone in Congress knew about Foley’s action and merely said in an accepting tone, “Oh, that’s just Mark.”
The Congress, House of Representatives and Senate, are a group of people from all over the country whose sole purpose is to represent the people from their District and to maintain a civil and honorable reputation to the country they serve. There are no concerns for party lines since this would defeat the overall good of the nation. Misconduct or accepting influence from outside groups will not be tolerated, and can result in disciplinary actions up to and including termination.
Ok, then, who is really that shocked to find a “Text Messaging Pedophile” in Congress? Can we see a show of hands?
Thanks.
Mark Foley is an idiot at best and the other options are not much better. I would argue that Foley is not the “issue” as much a system that allowed him to exist. As the saying goes “any team is only as good as its weakest player”.
Well, thank God that only happened in this one isolated case, not like it could happen anywhere else. I mean seriously now… what a nightmare this might be.
Try to imagine working with someone you "kinda" know has some ‘weird’ little quirks. The occasional ‘off colored’ story, a slightly askew view of people from varying ethnic backgrounds or perhaps even that extremely rare “social gift”… which clearly is not likely in today’s climate.
I’m sure all of us would jump and make that person face the consequences of their behavior. Lord knows that person would be dealt with swiftly and so on.
Rest assured there are policies written, discussions given on this very subject, and should something actually happen…and let’s be honest here, they rarely do. Things would be dealt with appropriately. Or are they? Not like we are simply going to ignore this issue or just take the person aside and give them a friendly “heads up” on the rumored behavior.
Of course, another known fact is that bad behavior is almost always only found in the lower ranks in many places. It is an unwritten law, a bit like a “Man Law” that once you reach a certain level in your job (whatever your job might be) you behave better with each promotion. It’s true. Why would I make that up?
It’s not like someone in Congress knew about Foley’s action and merely said in an accepting tone, “Oh, that’s just Mark.”
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Nice Hat
We went up to the Delta, in Mississippi, again last week. It was my third time in less than 7 months. This now equals the total trips I have made to the region in the previous 15 years. Going up there now is not as interesting as the first trip to the home of the Blues. It’s a bit like the 3rd or 4th date and some of the quirks begin to move from interesting to odd or even annoying.
I think that is the reason you should always think twice about moving to that favorite vacation spot. Visiting is one thing; but, everyday might prove to be a different story.
Regardless, it was a trip filled with good visits and excellent food; albeit, the “Zone” diet can only be described as the area of the house you eat all the food. My mother-in-law is a wizard in the kitchen (her Chinese kitchen is in on the other side of the carport from the house and makes me think of Emeril on ‘speed’). She can have 2 turkeys in the oven, 4 pots boiling on the stove and her wok in full gear, all the while as she grabs fresh vegetables from her expansive garden next to the kitchen.
Momma grew up in a small village in Southeast China; she did not come from wealth and survived the Japanese invasion and brutality prior to WWII. She takes very little for granted and nothing is assumed.
My in-laws are the classic American success story. With hardly a penny to their name, they built a grocery store business in the Mississippi Delta. And with blood, sweat, and patience, made ‘something’ out of what would seem like an impossible formula for many of us.
PBS once did a special on the ‘Delta Chinese’ and my wife’s family was very much the corner stone of this story. As my wife and I drove through the small town she grew up in, a town that now holds the distinction of “the highest murder rate in Mississippi”; we passed the hubcap store, the rows and rows of abandoned storefronts and the Quickstop Gas station that seems to serve as the social spot for most of the town’s youths. You would think twice about stopping for gas.
I told my wife I thought her the bravest woman I have ever known. Coming from what has the feel of an area in America that time has forgotten to where she is now, took more courage than I could ever imagine.
All that being said, there is one thing I always marvel at when it comes to my mother-in-law; nothing and I mean absolutely nothing, goes to waste. Over the years, a gate on the fence adjacent to the kitchen had blown down. Momma had made ‘do’ with what she had…propped it back up and attached it to the remaining fence and with an assortment of stakes and bricks to keep it in place. A tough job for most, even tougher when you are 5’ tall, weighing 100 pounds soaking wet and are pushing 80.
It didn’t seem like a big problem to her. I decided to fix the fence last week and it took me a better part of the morning just removing the wires, stakes, nails and garbage bag ties that held the gate in place. As I took this puzzle apart, Momma was right behind me picking up the “junk” pieces and carefully folding and saving each and every piece for her next project. Later in the day, I would see Momma cooking away, her hair covered by a carefully folded brown paper bag from Kroger’s to preserve her ‘hairdo’. Like I said, nothing goes to waste.
After working on the fence, I showered and found some Advil for my aching back. I went outside to have a cigarette only to discover Momma pushing my father-in-law in his wheel chair up and down the 1/4-mile driveway to make sure he got his fresh air. Apparently, she can push a wheel chair at a pace faster than I would care to walk… even without pushing something.
I think that is the reason you should always think twice about moving to that favorite vacation spot. Visiting is one thing; but, everyday might prove to be a different story.
Regardless, it was a trip filled with good visits and excellent food; albeit, the “Zone” diet can only be described as the area of the house you eat all the food. My mother-in-law is a wizard in the kitchen (her Chinese kitchen is in on the other side of the carport from the house and makes me think of Emeril on ‘speed’). She can have 2 turkeys in the oven, 4 pots boiling on the stove and her wok in full gear, all the while as she grabs fresh vegetables from her expansive garden next to the kitchen.
Momma grew up in a small village in Southeast China; she did not come from wealth and survived the Japanese invasion and brutality prior to WWII. She takes very little for granted and nothing is assumed.
My in-laws are the classic American success story. With hardly a penny to their name, they built a grocery store business in the Mississippi Delta. And with blood, sweat, and patience, made ‘something’ out of what would seem like an impossible formula for many of us.
PBS once did a special on the ‘Delta Chinese’ and my wife’s family was very much the corner stone of this story. As my wife and I drove through the small town she grew up in, a town that now holds the distinction of “the highest murder rate in Mississippi”; we passed the hubcap store, the rows and rows of abandoned storefronts and the Quickstop Gas station that seems to serve as the social spot for most of the town’s youths. You would think twice about stopping for gas.
I told my wife I thought her the bravest woman I have ever known. Coming from what has the feel of an area in America that time has forgotten to where she is now, took more courage than I could ever imagine.
All that being said, there is one thing I always marvel at when it comes to my mother-in-law; nothing and I mean absolutely nothing, goes to waste. Over the years, a gate on the fence adjacent to the kitchen had blown down. Momma had made ‘do’ with what she had…propped it back up and attached it to the remaining fence and with an assortment of stakes and bricks to keep it in place. A tough job for most, even tougher when you are 5’ tall, weighing 100 pounds soaking wet and are pushing 80.
It didn’t seem like a big problem to her. I decided to fix the fence last week and it took me a better part of the morning just removing the wires, stakes, nails and garbage bag ties that held the gate in place. As I took this puzzle apart, Momma was right behind me picking up the “junk” pieces and carefully folding and saving each and every piece for her next project. Later in the day, I would see Momma cooking away, her hair covered by a carefully folded brown paper bag from Kroger’s to preserve her ‘hairdo’. Like I said, nothing goes to waste.
After working on the fence, I showered and found some Advil for my aching back. I went outside to have a cigarette only to discover Momma pushing my father-in-law in his wheel chair up and down the 1/4-mile driveway to make sure he got his fresh air. Apparently, she can push a wheel chair at a pace faster than I would care to walk… even without pushing something.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
The Blame Game
Rep. LaHood urges pause in page program
By ANDREW TAYLOR, Associated Press Writer
Meanwhile, LaHood, who also is from Illinois, said that it's not the speaker who should go and said the page program should be shut down, at least temporarily.
He questioned an "antiquated" congressional page system that brings 15- and 16-year-olds to the Capitol and has resulted in scandals in the past.
"Some members betray their trust by taking advantage of them. We should not subject young men and women to this kind of activity, this kind of vulnerability," LaHood said in a CNN interview. He said the program should be shut down until problems can be resolved.
OK then, it couldn’t be the fools who abuse the pages it must then be the system. Makes sense to me, why hold the people abusing a system responsible, when you can just as easily put the program on hold.
While we are at it, lets go ahead and put the Boy Scouts on hold, the Catholic Church and all youth sports. Of course we have found pedophiles in schools and many other assorted arenas so the key may be to just shut down everything. Did I mention Michael Jackson?
I’m curious about one thing though, how is it possible that Mark Foley is not getting his mug shot taken? Where do we get the idea that there is a separate justice system for the rich and powerful? Wouldn’t any other person at least be taken away to the cop shop for a little chat? Hey they do it every week on NBC’s dateline. I’ll grant you that Foley didn’t end up at a high school in Colorado or a school in Amish country, but still.
I suspect all the recent actions by pedophiles is not so much a new phenomena as it is just a tad more on the news. And yes I guess I do lump Foley into the same lot. In this case however, it makes me cringe, to watch the politicians scramble in DC to protect themselves. The system isn’t nearly as broken as the people are. I’m afraid to think that simply doing away with any program will remove the sick people that are involved. Even when you clean up a barn the rats simply find a safer place to hide, this isn’t much different.
By ANDREW TAYLOR, Associated Press Writer
Meanwhile, LaHood, who also is from Illinois, said that it's not the speaker who should go and said the page program should be shut down, at least temporarily.
He questioned an "antiquated" congressional page system that brings 15- and 16-year-olds to the Capitol and has resulted in scandals in the past.
"Some members betray their trust by taking advantage of them. We should not subject young men and women to this kind of activity, this kind of vulnerability," LaHood said in a CNN interview. He said the program should be shut down until problems can be resolved.
OK then, it couldn’t be the fools who abuse the pages it must then be the system. Makes sense to me, why hold the people abusing a system responsible, when you can just as easily put the program on hold.
While we are at it, lets go ahead and put the Boy Scouts on hold, the Catholic Church and all youth sports. Of course we have found pedophiles in schools and many other assorted arenas so the key may be to just shut down everything. Did I mention Michael Jackson?
I’m curious about one thing though, how is it possible that Mark Foley is not getting his mug shot taken? Where do we get the idea that there is a separate justice system for the rich and powerful? Wouldn’t any other person at least be taken away to the cop shop for a little chat? Hey they do it every week on NBC’s dateline. I’ll grant you that Foley didn’t end up at a high school in Colorado or a school in Amish country, but still.
I suspect all the recent actions by pedophiles is not so much a new phenomena as it is just a tad more on the news. And yes I guess I do lump Foley into the same lot. In this case however, it makes me cringe, to watch the politicians scramble in DC to protect themselves. The system isn’t nearly as broken as the people are. I’m afraid to think that simply doing away with any program will remove the sick people that are involved. Even when you clean up a barn the rats simply find a safer place to hide, this isn’t much different.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Your Only as Good as Your Last Press Clipping
The other day I read a great quote. It had to do with a company that as of lately has not gotten the best PR in the media and so on. Though it does seem that the media has in fact become the all-important proving ground, well until a hurricane or John “Could a human being be anymore pathetic” Karr knocks you off the front page.
Speaking of John Karr, does he have an eerie likeness to someone you might have met at some point in your life? I always think of accountants I have known
The quote goes as follows” I have seen companies shoot themselves in the foot on occasion, but I have rarely seen a company that can reload this fast.”
I like that on many levels. It should be noted this quote could be applied in many situations, and not just to this one company that it was intended for.
As an example, Dallas Police today announced that Terrell Owens was rushed to the hospital after attempting suicide. Mr. Owens spokes folks claim he merely got his vitamins and painkillers mixed up. Yep, amazing how much the one a day vitamins look like percocet. Have you considered the Flintstones chewable as an option? Remember Barney doesn’t give you a buzz when you take him, ok?
Richard Armitage admitted the other day he may have inadvertently mentioned to a reporter the identity of a CIA operative. The infamous Valerie Plame leak. How exactly do you let that slip? While discussing world events you decide to play 20 questions with Richard Novak?
Then the other day the President of Pakistan informed us that the same Richard Armitage told the Pakistan government “we will bomb you back to the stone age”; this being in the we look forward to your support diplomacy.
Man oh man, it isn’t bad enough you look like Uncle Fester in a suit, but now you get all the blame for just about everything. I look forward to the next admission by Mr. Armitage. I’m sure he is responsible for the rapid and decisive response to the gulf coast following Katrina or at least bad spinach.
Let’s face it unless you are Paris Hilton, or any other no talent product of a gene pool dipped in money, bad press sucks.
But fortunately for most, the general population has a short memory. I don’t.
Speaking of John Karr, does he have an eerie likeness to someone you might have met at some point in your life? I always think of accountants I have known
The quote goes as follows” I have seen companies shoot themselves in the foot on occasion, but I have rarely seen a company that can reload this fast.”
I like that on many levels. It should be noted this quote could be applied in many situations, and not just to this one company that it was intended for.
As an example, Dallas Police today announced that Terrell Owens was rushed to the hospital after attempting suicide. Mr. Owens spokes folks claim he merely got his vitamins and painkillers mixed up. Yep, amazing how much the one a day vitamins look like percocet. Have you considered the Flintstones chewable as an option? Remember Barney doesn’t give you a buzz when you take him, ok?
Richard Armitage admitted the other day he may have inadvertently mentioned to a reporter the identity of a CIA operative. The infamous Valerie Plame leak. How exactly do you let that slip? While discussing world events you decide to play 20 questions with Richard Novak?
Then the other day the President of Pakistan informed us that the same Richard Armitage told the Pakistan government “we will bomb you back to the stone age”; this being in the we look forward to your support diplomacy.
Man oh man, it isn’t bad enough you look like Uncle Fester in a suit, but now you get all the blame for just about everything. I look forward to the next admission by Mr. Armitage. I’m sure he is responsible for the rapid and decisive response to the gulf coast following Katrina or at least bad spinach.
Let’s face it unless you are Paris Hilton, or any other no talent product of a gene pool dipped in money, bad press sucks.
But fortunately for most, the general population has a short memory. I don’t.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Looking For Some Comments
WASHINGTON - The Bush administration has blocked release of a report that suggests global warming is contributing to the frequency and strength of hurricanes, the journal Nature reported Tuesday. The possibility that warming conditions may cause storms to become stronger has generated debate among climate and weather experts, particularly in the wake of the Hurricane Katrina disaster.
Dear readers can you help me?
What is there about Global Warming, that is an issue for the Bush group? I’m somewhat confused on this one.
I get the stem cell thing from an odd conservative Christian perspective but this one makes no sense on any level. I like to think that stem cells are a celebration of the gift God gives us to help fight disease, but yet another angle I guess. So I guess that might make me an odd Christian as well.
Are scientists bad; is that the deal?
Does agreeing with the data mean you are selling out the folks who like to fund your campaign and all that? Is Carl Rove the only hot air you consider legit?
Please someone help me with this.
I struggle with this “lets pretend that bad things aren’t happening” world we have somehow gotten ourselves into. Why is the US the only country that seems to believe that global warming is not a proven fact? Can we assume there might be something to it and at least keep an open mind? Would this be the Sudan of the science world?
I really don’t want to believe that we are that much out of touch.
Look I am not a big Mikey “more attention for me” Moore or Al “yawn” Gore fan, but I think sometimes they might have a point on some issues. But hey let’s forget the agenda driven folks and talk about some possibilities, shall we?
Like I said, I don’t get it. Can anyone point out what I’m missing?
Dear readers can you help me?
What is there about Global Warming, that is an issue for the Bush group? I’m somewhat confused on this one.
I get the stem cell thing from an odd conservative Christian perspective but this one makes no sense on any level. I like to think that stem cells are a celebration of the gift God gives us to help fight disease, but yet another angle I guess. So I guess that might make me an odd Christian as well.
Are scientists bad; is that the deal?
Does agreeing with the data mean you are selling out the folks who like to fund your campaign and all that? Is Carl Rove the only hot air you consider legit?
Please someone help me with this.
I struggle with this “lets pretend that bad things aren’t happening” world we have somehow gotten ourselves into. Why is the US the only country that seems to believe that global warming is not a proven fact? Can we assume there might be something to it and at least keep an open mind? Would this be the Sudan of the science world?
I really don’t want to believe that we are that much out of touch.
Look I am not a big Mikey “more attention for me” Moore or Al “yawn” Gore fan, but I think sometimes they might have a point on some issues. But hey let’s forget the agenda driven folks and talk about some possibilities, shall we?
Like I said, I don’t get it. Can anyone point out what I’m missing?
Good Choices
Russian Prosecutors Threaten to Revoke License at Giant BP Gas Field
MOSCOW (AP)
Russian prosecutors threatened on Monday to revoke the license of BP PLC's joint venture to develop a giant gas field in Russia's far east.
The move comes amid pressure on a number of foreign-controlled energy projects that observers say is an attempt to secure a bigger role for Russian companies.
Here is a little bit of a history lesson, one learned by both Napoleon and Hitler, don’t fool with Russia. There is something about the place that always reminds me of the basement in horror movies. You sit and yell at the screen, “Don’t go in the basement!” Yet, the hapless victim always does it and the end is rarely pretty. I wonder if there is a belief at some board level that somehow the Russians will play fair this time. The belief is “It’s just fine to go into the basement this time.” Cue the creepy music.
Star power
The Texans wrapped up the 2006 NFL Draft Sunday night with Mario Williams.
OK, then.
Last year you lead the League in QB sacks not the giving end of the stat, but the receiving end, and you had no real offense to speak of…
You could have drafted Reggie Bush, Vince Young and any other group of offensive players, but no, the Houston Texans drafted a defensive end.
Hey I am a big fan of defensive ends, the position I played in High school, but you passed on Reggie Bush?
So with their Number 1 draft pick in place, the Texans are 0 and 3 and allowed the most yards against in franchise history last Sunday against the Redskins.
A sound business decision there…
Fastow to be sentenced
Tue Sep 26, 12:25 AM ET
HOUSTON (Reuters) - Former Enron Corp. chief financial officer Andrew Fastow, whose off-the-books deals led to the high-flying energy giant's destruction, faces a federal judge on Tuesday to find out how long he will spend in prison.
As part of the sentencing today, former Enron employees will be allowed to address MR. Fastow which could be entertaining to say the least.
Can you imagine the chance to tell the guy who sold your company down the river what you thought of him?
What are the odds of that ever happening to any other company… imagine the odds.
Oh, wait... I think there is a horse trader just outside of Dallas that might fit that bill.
MOSCOW (AP)
Russian prosecutors threatened on Monday to revoke the license of BP PLC's joint venture to develop a giant gas field in Russia's far east.
The move comes amid pressure on a number of foreign-controlled energy projects that observers say is an attempt to secure a bigger role for Russian companies.
Here is a little bit of a history lesson, one learned by both Napoleon and Hitler, don’t fool with Russia. There is something about the place that always reminds me of the basement in horror movies. You sit and yell at the screen, “Don’t go in the basement!” Yet, the hapless victim always does it and the end is rarely pretty. I wonder if there is a belief at some board level that somehow the Russians will play fair this time. The belief is “It’s just fine to go into the basement this time.” Cue the creepy music.
Star power
The Texans wrapped up the 2006 NFL Draft Sunday night with Mario Williams.
OK, then.
Last year you lead the League in QB sacks not the giving end of the stat, but the receiving end, and you had no real offense to speak of…
You could have drafted Reggie Bush, Vince Young and any other group of offensive players, but no, the Houston Texans drafted a defensive end.
Hey I am a big fan of defensive ends, the position I played in High school, but you passed on Reggie Bush?
So with their Number 1 draft pick in place, the Texans are 0 and 3 and allowed the most yards against in franchise history last Sunday against the Redskins.
A sound business decision there…
Fastow to be sentenced
Tue Sep 26, 12:25 AM ET
HOUSTON (Reuters) - Former Enron Corp. chief financial officer Andrew Fastow, whose off-the-books deals led to the high-flying energy giant's destruction, faces a federal judge on Tuesday to find out how long he will spend in prison.
As part of the sentencing today, former Enron employees will be allowed to address MR. Fastow which could be entertaining to say the least.
Can you imagine the chance to tell the guy who sold your company down the river what you thought of him?
What are the odds of that ever happening to any other company… imagine the odds.
Oh, wait... I think there is a horse trader just outside of Dallas that might fit that bill.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Ouch, That's Gonna Leave A Scar
Penis transplant removed after two weeks
By MARILYNN MARCHIONE, AP Medical Writer Tue Sep 19, 7:20 PM ET
Chinese doctors say they successfully transplanted a penis on a man who lost his own in an accident, but had to remove it two weeks later because of psychological problems experienced by the man and his wife.
Yikes, you want to remove what, again?
What I love is that this story was actually on the Associated Press (AP) wire to start with, not the Enquirer or the Star, but AP. So, it makes it fair game here, I guess,
So let us review, shall we? Man loses ‘Mr. Happy’ in an accident.
Oh, man, that had to HURT and how precise was this accident to begin with?
According to the article, the patient and his wife plead with doctors to do a transplant.
A whole new branch of organ donations… I would have never actually have thought about.
Is there a long waiting list for this procedure? Can you actually go out on the Black Market to purchase aforementioned organ, as you can for kidneys and so on?
Ok, so the doctors rise to the occasion to do the procedure and get it up and running.
Sorry, couldn’t resist.
The transplant is successful (avoiding a ton of one-liners here). But, hey, you can fill in the blanks.
So a few weeks later, the couple decides they are not happy with the end result.
And I quote "because of the wife's psychological rejection as well as the swollen shape of the transplanted penis,” Ahem…
Excuse me, what about the patient’s “psychological” fear of the dreaded John Bobbit Syndrome. I was going to use the word ‘experience’ here; but, it seems there is actually a band named “The John Bobbitt Experience”… mostly known for short tunes with no clear ending in sight.
OK, I promise no more medical stories…well, till the next one ‘pops up’ that seems to ‘stand out.’
By MARILYNN MARCHIONE, AP Medical Writer Tue Sep 19, 7:20 PM ET
Chinese doctors say they successfully transplanted a penis on a man who lost his own in an accident, but had to remove it two weeks later because of psychological problems experienced by the man and his wife.
Yikes, you want to remove what, again?
What I love is that this story was actually on the Associated Press (AP) wire to start with, not the Enquirer or the Star, but AP. So, it makes it fair game here, I guess,
So let us review, shall we? Man loses ‘Mr. Happy’ in an accident.
Oh, man, that had to HURT and how precise was this accident to begin with?
According to the article, the patient and his wife plead with doctors to do a transplant.
A whole new branch of organ donations… I would have never actually have thought about.
Is there a long waiting list for this procedure? Can you actually go out on the Black Market to purchase aforementioned organ, as you can for kidneys and so on?
Ok, so the doctors rise to the occasion to do the procedure and get it up and running.
Sorry, couldn’t resist.
The transplant is successful (avoiding a ton of one-liners here). But, hey, you can fill in the blanks.
So a few weeks later, the couple decides they are not happy with the end result.
And I quote "because of the wife's psychological rejection as well as the swollen shape of the transplanted penis,” Ahem…
Excuse me, what about the patient’s “psychological” fear of the dreaded John Bobbit Syndrome. I was going to use the word ‘experience’ here; but, it seems there is actually a band named “The John Bobbitt Experience”… mostly known for short tunes with no clear ending in sight.
OK, I promise no more medical stories…well, till the next one ‘pops up’ that seems to ‘stand out.’
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Oh Sure a Bolt Here and a Bolt There.....
Astronauts lose another bolt to space
By MIKE SCHNEIDER, Associated Press Writer 1 hour, 1 minute ago
CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. - Astronauts working to bring to life a new 17 1/2-ton addition to the international space station lost another bolt to the void during a spacewalk early Wednesday.
Well that can’t be good, it’s not like you need to be rocket scientist to put in a bolt? Oh wait…
I’m still amazed at times, at what we as people, find to be important. The same country that can’t figure out how to get trailers at point A to folks who need them at point B have no issue with dropping billions into a space program. We still haven’t figured out how to rebuild the Gulf Coast or how to deal with insurance companies like Nationwide, but we can still spend a ton on space. Hey don’t get me wrong, it is pretty cool, the whole space thingy, but at times I can’t help but wonder if we might want to reconsider our priorities.
As a conservative liberal I find myself having gone from peace and love look at life in my teens, to how tall should that fence be anyways? When I see pictures of the total devastation that hurricanes reeked on the Gulf Coast and 12 months later much of it hasn’t been resolved, I worry where our sense of reality has moved.
We are concerned with Iraq, Iran and the little man in North Korea, I’m just not sure we all agree on why we are worried about them. My look at life is very simple; fix your own backyard before you look to mow your neighbors. I certainly have no clear-cut solutions to the war on terror or how to make our country safer. I wish I did, I would be happy to share them with you. But it does seem that it might be time for us to take a long hard look at what we as a nation really regard as the most important. Have we become so hardened by the day-to-day events around the world that we just surrender to reality TV as the best way to cope? Hey I was as shocked as anyone that Mike won Big Brother All-stars, and what is the deal with Rock Star Super Nova, why are there no Americans in the final 4? I don’t care who wins as long as it isn’t Lukas, that dude is spooky. And don’t even get me started on Dancing With the Stars, Carlson Tucker, what’s up with that?
I guess I do wonder about one thing though; didn’t they bring some spare bolts with them on the Shuttle? Let me guess, it’s a lump sum bid and procurement wouldn’t allow for any extra charges for 10% field overages.
Gotta run, “The View” is coming on and I want to see what Rosie is wearing.
By MIKE SCHNEIDER, Associated Press Writer 1 hour, 1 minute ago
CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. - Astronauts working to bring to life a new 17 1/2-ton addition to the international space station lost another bolt to the void during a spacewalk early Wednesday.
Well that can’t be good, it’s not like you need to be rocket scientist to put in a bolt? Oh wait…
I’m still amazed at times, at what we as people, find to be important. The same country that can’t figure out how to get trailers at point A to folks who need them at point B have no issue with dropping billions into a space program. We still haven’t figured out how to rebuild the Gulf Coast or how to deal with insurance companies like Nationwide, but we can still spend a ton on space. Hey don’t get me wrong, it is pretty cool, the whole space thingy, but at times I can’t help but wonder if we might want to reconsider our priorities.
As a conservative liberal I find myself having gone from peace and love look at life in my teens, to how tall should that fence be anyways? When I see pictures of the total devastation that hurricanes reeked on the Gulf Coast and 12 months later much of it hasn’t been resolved, I worry where our sense of reality has moved.
We are concerned with Iraq, Iran and the little man in North Korea, I’m just not sure we all agree on why we are worried about them. My look at life is very simple; fix your own backyard before you look to mow your neighbors. I certainly have no clear-cut solutions to the war on terror or how to make our country safer. I wish I did, I would be happy to share them with you. But it does seem that it might be time for us to take a long hard look at what we as a nation really regard as the most important. Have we become so hardened by the day-to-day events around the world that we just surrender to reality TV as the best way to cope? Hey I was as shocked as anyone that Mike won Big Brother All-stars, and what is the deal with Rock Star Super Nova, why are there no Americans in the final 4? I don’t care who wins as long as it isn’t Lukas, that dude is spooky. And don’t even get me started on Dancing With the Stars, Carlson Tucker, what’s up with that?
I guess I do wonder about one thing though; didn’t they bring some spare bolts with them on the Shuttle? Let me guess, it’s a lump sum bid and procurement wouldn’t allow for any extra charges for 10% field overages.
Gotta run, “The View” is coming on and I want to see what Rosie is wearing.
Monday, September 11, 2006
No Humor Here
A bad memory can be like an injury, and like any other wound, the body heals itself and often covers it with a scar tissue. The pain of the moment will fade with time and all that can be seen is the faint trace of the original wound. And yet it seems the entire thing can rush back into our world, reliving the very event as if it happened yesterday.
Such is 9-11-01.
I recall, in vivid detail, standing in my kitchen in South Carolina, watching CNN. Watching is an understatement at best. I remember staring at the television and trying to make sense of what I was seeing. This had to be a movie advert, perhaps a promo for the latest “Die Hard” movie. This simply couldn’t be what the reporters proclaimed it to be; it just couldn’t be. Who and why would anyone fly an airplane, let alone 2 into the World Trade Center? How could this be happening?
I stood transfixed in the kitchen for what seemed like hours: in fact it was 15 minutes.
I called my wife, who was watching the same horror movie at her work place. She didn’t know what to say either, this was something beyond reason, and yet there was comfort in hearing each other’s voices.
I called a good friend back in California. It was barely after 6 there and the phone was answered by a very sleepy voice.
“Carl, just turn on CNN.” is all I really recall saying. It was enough. I could hear the reactions of my friends as they fought off the sleep to make sense of this early morning call. We talked later when we were both more coherent.
The day before, I had driven a good friend from London to the airport in Savannah Georgia. He had opted to come visit us in South Carolina before gong onto a business meeting in Houston. His original plan would have had him flying out of Boston on 9-11.
That always sticks with me.
In hindsight I now realize, that was the last time any of us would ever casually walk friends to the departing gate to wish them well on their flight. Life was never going to be the same.
Now flying is a major inconvenience. No shoes, shampoo and gels of any kind actually are a good thing. We all wait to see what other screwed up things these folks, who have declared “war” on us, will think up next to kill us.
So today I sit and wait to hear from my wife who is flying to Denver for work today. I hate to admit it but I always worry when she flies, it is sad that this even is a consideration.
Somewhere we got distracted by the Iraq deal. We seem to have put all our focus into a questionable war against a dude who it seemed had as much concern, if not more so, over Bin Laden then we did.
In the meanwhile “Binny and the Jets “ seem to have got a stronger foothold in Pakistan and Afghanistan. We seem no closer to capturing these clowns and each and every anniversary of the 9-11 I realize how vulnerable our lives have really become.
There is an old Sioux saying that applies here. “Don’t screw with a crazy man”
If there was only one crazy dude, I guess I would feel better. It feels like there is a shitload of these folks who’s sole intent is to hurt us; it’s what they do for a living.
That’s why I get nervous about my wife flying and I wish it wasn’t so.
Such is 9-11-01.
I recall, in vivid detail, standing in my kitchen in South Carolina, watching CNN. Watching is an understatement at best. I remember staring at the television and trying to make sense of what I was seeing. This had to be a movie advert, perhaps a promo for the latest “Die Hard” movie. This simply couldn’t be what the reporters proclaimed it to be; it just couldn’t be. Who and why would anyone fly an airplane, let alone 2 into the World Trade Center? How could this be happening?
I stood transfixed in the kitchen for what seemed like hours: in fact it was 15 minutes.
I called my wife, who was watching the same horror movie at her work place. She didn’t know what to say either, this was something beyond reason, and yet there was comfort in hearing each other’s voices.
I called a good friend back in California. It was barely after 6 there and the phone was answered by a very sleepy voice.
“Carl, just turn on CNN.” is all I really recall saying. It was enough. I could hear the reactions of my friends as they fought off the sleep to make sense of this early morning call. We talked later when we were both more coherent.
The day before, I had driven a good friend from London to the airport in Savannah Georgia. He had opted to come visit us in South Carolina before gong onto a business meeting in Houston. His original plan would have had him flying out of Boston on 9-11.
That always sticks with me.
In hindsight I now realize, that was the last time any of us would ever casually walk friends to the departing gate to wish them well on their flight. Life was never going to be the same.
Now flying is a major inconvenience. No shoes, shampoo and gels of any kind actually are a good thing. We all wait to see what other screwed up things these folks, who have declared “war” on us, will think up next to kill us.
So today I sit and wait to hear from my wife who is flying to Denver for work today. I hate to admit it but I always worry when she flies, it is sad that this even is a consideration.
Somewhere we got distracted by the Iraq deal. We seem to have put all our focus into a questionable war against a dude who it seemed had as much concern, if not more so, over Bin Laden then we did.
In the meanwhile “Binny and the Jets “ seem to have got a stronger foothold in Pakistan and Afghanistan. We seem no closer to capturing these clowns and each and every anniversary of the 9-11 I realize how vulnerable our lives have really become.
There is an old Sioux saying that applies here. “Don’t screw with a crazy man”
If there was only one crazy dude, I guess I would feel better. It feels like there is a shitload of these folks who’s sole intent is to hurt us; it’s what they do for a living.
That’s why I get nervous about my wife flying and I wish it wasn’t so.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Get a Life, Maybe Even Your Own..
Tom Cruise baby, Suri, makes long-awaited debut...
Well, I, for one, will sleep better tonight after finally having seen the second coming.
Could we, as a country, get just a little more obsessed about the life times of celebrities in this world? Tom Cruise and his partner Katy Holmes had a baby. Good for them.
Yet, the newspapers and such are filled with stories and cry for a picture of this blessed child. There is even a bronzed statue of her first bowel movement. Where would one place this fine piece of crap?
Of course, if Suri had been born to John Smith and Jane Doe, the only thing of interest would be the statistically noted number of children born out of wedlock. But, yet we continue to admire and dare I say, revere this birth because of the hype surrounding it.
And here is a shocker… Katie C broke the news/picture on the CBS Evening News/Entertainment show. There is such a need for this picture; it had to be on the national news?
Why does this surprise me? Aren’t we the same country who simply can’t get enough information on the death of Princess Di and Elvis?
Let’s sum it up, shall we? Princess Di died in a car wreck. Her driver was either driving too fast or was drunk, perhaps both. Princess Di was adored by a ton of folks. The reason being she, a Commoner, married a Prince… a Prince who proves the theory that even when you are butt-Ugly with ears, big enough to make Dumbo cringe with envy, you can still land a date. Well, because you are a Prince…
Yet, the simple fact remains the Commoner turned Princess appealed to millions who lived and breathed with her every move. She still died in a car wreck and by doing so left a huge void for her adoring public. Even in death, people can’t let it go.
Elvis was the “King of Rock n Roll.” That being said, he died on his throne. He went from a small town in Mississippi to being easily the most recognized name in music. He also got fat, drank too much, and loved his drugs; the latter being what caused the constipation that brought him to his throne for his final hurrah. Had any of us died this way, we would still be the topic of absurd drunk chatter at the office Christmas party. And still, he is considered an Icon.
As I have said before, sometimes our image improves with death.
Well, why go on? I can hardly wait to see who we roll out next as our personality of the month. All I know for sure is that Suri is not in for an easy life. The spotlight can be harsh when you are 6 months old. Especially, when you are surrounded by a world full of people who have opted out of having their own lives and desperately need to live theirs through yours.
Well, I, for one, will sleep better tonight after finally having seen the second coming.
Could we, as a country, get just a little more obsessed about the life times of celebrities in this world? Tom Cruise and his partner Katy Holmes had a baby. Good for them.
Yet, the newspapers and such are filled with stories and cry for a picture of this blessed child. There is even a bronzed statue of her first bowel movement. Where would one place this fine piece of crap?
Of course, if Suri had been born to John Smith and Jane Doe, the only thing of interest would be the statistically noted number of children born out of wedlock. But, yet we continue to admire and dare I say, revere this birth because of the hype surrounding it.
And here is a shocker… Katie C broke the news/picture on the CBS Evening News/Entertainment show. There is such a need for this picture; it had to be on the national news?
Why does this surprise me? Aren’t we the same country who simply can’t get enough information on the death of Princess Di and Elvis?
Let’s sum it up, shall we? Princess Di died in a car wreck. Her driver was either driving too fast or was drunk, perhaps both. Princess Di was adored by a ton of folks. The reason being she, a Commoner, married a Prince… a Prince who proves the theory that even when you are butt-Ugly with ears, big enough to make Dumbo cringe with envy, you can still land a date. Well, because you are a Prince…
Yet, the simple fact remains the Commoner turned Princess appealed to millions who lived and breathed with her every move. She still died in a car wreck and by doing so left a huge void for her adoring public. Even in death, people can’t let it go.
Elvis was the “King of Rock n Roll.” That being said, he died on his throne. He went from a small town in Mississippi to being easily the most recognized name in music. He also got fat, drank too much, and loved his drugs; the latter being what caused the constipation that brought him to his throne for his final hurrah. Had any of us died this way, we would still be the topic of absurd drunk chatter at the office Christmas party. And still, he is considered an Icon.
As I have said before, sometimes our image improves with death.
Well, why go on? I can hardly wait to see who we roll out next as our personality of the month. All I know for sure is that Suri is not in for an easy life. The spotlight can be harsh when you are 6 months old. Especially, when you are surrounded by a world full of people who have opted out of having their own lives and desperately need to live theirs through yours.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Tower of Babel Anyone?
So here I am, driving down I 45, listening to Spanish 101 for idiots. I am doing my best to learn a language so I can actually learn to interact with those around me. I know what you are thinking, I’m finally over my fear of flying and off to some tropical vacation. Ah if that was only the reason. I’m learning Spanish so I can communicate with the guy building my fence, mowing my lawn, and building the deck. Well you get the picture.
When I was 7, I could not speak a word of English, and nor for that fact could my parents. We were immigrants to Canada, and fresh of the boat, literally. A new country where our native tongue was not widely spoken, other then in the many small Dutch communities that were dotted across North America. We learned english or we weren’t going to survive. Let me tell you, 1st grade was no picnic, and even up to the age of 12, I was pretty unsure of the English words for some things. It took a lot of effort for all of us to grasp a new language and in many ways a new culture. But learn it we did, there was already 2 official languages in our new country and they weren’t looking to add a third.
It was a little weird growing up in a country that on one hand had two official languages, and on the other hand could point at that simple fact, as the main reason for the division in the country. It was not a subtle difference; it felt as if there were two distinct nations.
The folks in Quebec even had a separatist party that was not above violence to achieve their separate agenda. I grew up in a school system that required the learning of French and signage in both English and French. The desire to hold onto one’s heritage can be a bit misguided at best. Over time the French spoken in Quebec became a very watered down version of the mother tongue spokenin France. Sometimes our reasoning to hold onto our past is overshadowed by the bigger need of the country we have chosen to be a part of.
Without a doubt there are huge lines drawn in the sand today. The division between south and north, black and white and of course the ever popular red and blue states, are very much still issues that divide us a nation. But over the years the one thing we did have was a common tongue. We may have had a different accent that could be associated with the region of the country you were from, but it was still a common language. I believe it is important. Life is confusing enough without having to throw in a translator; trust me on this one.
As I drive around my new neighborhood, I think it save to assume that 95% of the workforce is Spanish speaking. The work ethic is undeniable and the level of craftsmanship amazing. There is a huge need being filled by these workers and this will continue to be the case. Where I struggle is the lack of desire or even the need to learn the language. By providing non-English speaking classrooms and education systems, I believe the end result is a division that we will not soon recover from.
A separate but equal state doesn’t work; we all lose with that one.
When I was 7, I could not speak a word of English, and nor for that fact could my parents. We were immigrants to Canada, and fresh of the boat, literally. A new country where our native tongue was not widely spoken, other then in the many small Dutch communities that were dotted across North America. We learned english or we weren’t going to survive. Let me tell you, 1st grade was no picnic, and even up to the age of 12, I was pretty unsure of the English words for some things. It took a lot of effort for all of us to grasp a new language and in many ways a new culture. But learn it we did, there was already 2 official languages in our new country and they weren’t looking to add a third.
It was a little weird growing up in a country that on one hand had two official languages, and on the other hand could point at that simple fact, as the main reason for the division in the country. It was not a subtle difference; it felt as if there were two distinct nations.
The folks in Quebec even had a separatist party that was not above violence to achieve their separate agenda. I grew up in a school system that required the learning of French and signage in both English and French. The desire to hold onto one’s heritage can be a bit misguided at best. Over time the French spoken in Quebec became a very watered down version of the mother tongue spokenin France. Sometimes our reasoning to hold onto our past is overshadowed by the bigger need of the country we have chosen to be a part of.
Without a doubt there are huge lines drawn in the sand today. The division between south and north, black and white and of course the ever popular red and blue states, are very much still issues that divide us a nation. But over the years the one thing we did have was a common tongue. We may have had a different accent that could be associated with the region of the country you were from, but it was still a common language. I believe it is important. Life is confusing enough without having to throw in a translator; trust me on this one.
As I drive around my new neighborhood, I think it save to assume that 95% of the workforce is Spanish speaking. The work ethic is undeniable and the level of craftsmanship amazing. There is a huge need being filled by these workers and this will continue to be the case. Where I struggle is the lack of desire or even the need to learn the language. By providing non-English speaking classrooms and education systems, I believe the end result is a division that we will not soon recover from.
A separate but equal state doesn’t work; we all lose with that one.
Monday, August 28, 2006
A Paper Bird in the hand
Have you ever gone to any of the hobby/weird stuff store. Here they are called The Hobby Hut and back home in Washington, they are called Michaels, or something along that line.
Recently I have discovered the joy of going through spare change and looking for rare and usual coins. I grant you so far the only rare coin I have found was a peso, which actually is not at all that, odd, considering where we live.
So off I head to the hobby place, to find some holders for the coins, I know I will someday find. The sheer amount of stuff in these stores is beyond description, or prior to my visit, imagination. It seems to be floor to ceiling fake flowers, fake trees and a very strange section entirely devoted to scrap booking. The smells are overwhelming. It’s a bit like going to your weird aunt’s house, you know the one who had her cat Fluffy stuffed, and now keeps the darn thing on the coffee table nest to the velvet couch.
I also notice I am the only male in the place. This may explain the strange looks I received from a number of “dudes” sitting in their vehicles in the parking lot. All of them looking impatiently at their watches while all the while smoking a cigarette, I should have sensed their dread.
The place is crawling with women of every description. There are seniors, who slowly work their way along the crowded aisles. Many using the shopping cart, as much for a walker, as a place to deposit their paper and silk carnations. There are young moms with their children and some teens. By far there are mostly middle-aged women roaming the plains of plastic land. They seem to look at me in a way that makes me feel a touch uneasy. The “cougars” give me the feeling I’ am at some very twisted singles bar, and happy hour is about to begin.
I finally find the coin collection section. It takes up about a 3-foot by 4-foot section in the back corner of the 2-acre store. I keep waiting for Rod Serling to pop out from behind the 8-foot fake palms at any moment.
As I make my way to the cashier I happen to notice a pair of older women browsing the pressed flower sale. They were in a heated debate over some item that I have no clue as to “What” it might be. I most have stared too long. The taller of the women stood up straight and glared at me. I glanced away just in time to read the bold print on her Tee Shirt. Someone’s grandmother had her feelings on life spelt out rather well.
“Don’t ask me, I don’t know shit!!!”
So much for the warm, fuzzy, crafts feeling.
Recently I have discovered the joy of going through spare change and looking for rare and usual coins. I grant you so far the only rare coin I have found was a peso, which actually is not at all that, odd, considering where we live.
So off I head to the hobby place, to find some holders for the coins, I know I will someday find. The sheer amount of stuff in these stores is beyond description, or prior to my visit, imagination. It seems to be floor to ceiling fake flowers, fake trees and a very strange section entirely devoted to scrap booking. The smells are overwhelming. It’s a bit like going to your weird aunt’s house, you know the one who had her cat Fluffy stuffed, and now keeps the darn thing on the coffee table nest to the velvet couch.
I also notice I am the only male in the place. This may explain the strange looks I received from a number of “dudes” sitting in their vehicles in the parking lot. All of them looking impatiently at their watches while all the while smoking a cigarette, I should have sensed their dread.
The place is crawling with women of every description. There are seniors, who slowly work their way along the crowded aisles. Many using the shopping cart, as much for a walker, as a place to deposit their paper and silk carnations. There are young moms with their children and some teens. By far there are mostly middle-aged women roaming the plains of plastic land. They seem to look at me in a way that makes me feel a touch uneasy. The “cougars” give me the feeling I’ am at some very twisted singles bar, and happy hour is about to begin.
I finally find the coin collection section. It takes up about a 3-foot by 4-foot section in the back corner of the 2-acre store. I keep waiting for Rod Serling to pop out from behind the 8-foot fake palms at any moment.
As I make my way to the cashier I happen to notice a pair of older women browsing the pressed flower sale. They were in a heated debate over some item that I have no clue as to “What” it might be. I most have stared too long. The taller of the women stood up straight and glared at me. I glanced away just in time to read the bold print on her Tee Shirt. Someone’s grandmother had her feelings on life spelt out rather well.
“Don’t ask me, I don’t know shit!!!”
So much for the warm, fuzzy, crafts feeling.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Back to you Bonzo
(CBS) This fall, Katie Couric, becomes anchor and managing editor of the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric and will also be a 60 Minutes correspondent and the anchor of CBS News primetime specials.
Fluff, simply fluff.
Hey, don’t get me wrong… I believe there is a need to be much more diverse in many arenas in this world.
I believe there are a ton of qualified folks who could anchor the CBS Evening News, and women and minorities are certainly in that mix. But I struggle with Katie being the best newsperson to fill that slot. There is no end to her talent and persona, but an anchor following in the footsteps of the likes of Walter Cronkite?
I guess my concern was elevated to ‘Level Orange’ when CBS announced they were hiring a renowned composer from “Hollowed Wood” to write a new theme song for the Evening news. A theme song, we need a theme song… for the news?
A new set is sure to follow.
I guess none of this should come as a big shock.
Entertainment Tonight has more coverage on John Mark Karr than CNN.
Somewhere we got lulled into the belief that our news should be some form of entertainment. It somehow takes away from the ‘sting of war’ if we toss in a few snappy tunes and good-looking news folks?
Perhaps, in the future, we can look forward to the return of Geraldo as a legitimate news guy, and then maybe we can get to the true story of who stole AL Capone’s goodies out of the safe.
I fully expect to have ABC announce they will be combining their Evening news with “Dancing with the Stars"
Sorry, I’m still stuck in the belief that MTV should actually show music videos.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
French Toast Anyone?
France sending 2,000 troops to Lebanon
Mostly armed with begets and a nice bottle of red wine, the French hope to be able to sneer their way to peace in the middle east. It is also thought that there will be a great deal of deep conversations, in the 2 remaining cafes of Beirut, in regards to the overall exploitation of the peasant class. The French have also requested the Jerry Lewis be the only American allowed to spend time with them, unless Johnny Dep is available.
Aside from France and Italy, other nations considering contributions include Spain, Finland, Denmark, Germany, Greece, and Belgium. Turkey, Morocco, Nepal, New Zealand and China also are considering participating in the U.N. mission.
Ok now there is a stellar group of countries known for their military might. I would agree however that the Germans are somewhat familiar with forming an army and the Chinese could send a few million troops, but Nepal?
I wonder if the Fins will be bringing skis?
Many European countries also have expressed qualms over committing troops without strong guidelines on when its soldiers would have the right to shoot and also defend themselves.
Oh sure, now you want rules?
I think it is time to let this become the standard way of doing things. I am so in favor of becoming a neutral power, let’s be the really big Switzerland. We could simply nod and be really critical of those countries that send troops to foreign shores. We could make really cool watches and maybe become a great place for casinos to hide their money. We could just tell everyone we are Canadians and then the world would think us a nice place to visit but not a real threat to anyone.
Hell we could become the call center for companies all over the world, so instead of calling 1-800-india…. well you get the idea.
Mostly armed with begets and a nice bottle of red wine, the French hope to be able to sneer their way to peace in the middle east. It is also thought that there will be a great deal of deep conversations, in the 2 remaining cafes of Beirut, in regards to the overall exploitation of the peasant class. The French have also requested the Jerry Lewis be the only American allowed to spend time with them, unless Johnny Dep is available.
Aside from France and Italy, other nations considering contributions include Spain, Finland, Denmark, Germany, Greece, and Belgium. Turkey, Morocco, Nepal, New Zealand and China also are considering participating in the U.N. mission.
Ok now there is a stellar group of countries known for their military might. I would agree however that the Germans are somewhat familiar with forming an army and the Chinese could send a few million troops, but Nepal?
I wonder if the Fins will be bringing skis?
Many European countries also have expressed qualms over committing troops without strong guidelines on when its soldiers would have the right to shoot and also defend themselves.
Oh sure, now you want rules?
I think it is time to let this become the standard way of doing things. I am so in favor of becoming a neutral power, let’s be the really big Switzerland. We could simply nod and be really critical of those countries that send troops to foreign shores. We could make really cool watches and maybe become a great place for casinos to hide their money. We could just tell everyone we are Canadians and then the world would think us a nice place to visit but not a real threat to anyone.
Hell we could become the call center for companies all over the world, so instead of calling 1-800-india…. well you get the idea.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Just Stop It
Perfectly Good Guitar John Hiatt
Well he threw one down from the top of the stairs
Beautiful women were standing everywhere
They all got wet when he smashed that thing
But off in the dark you could hear somebody sing
CHORUS:
Oh it breaks my heart to see those stars
Smashing a perfectly good guitar
I don't know who they think they are
Smashing a perfectly good guitar
It started back in 1963
His momma wouldn't buy him
That new red harmony
He settled for a sunburst with a crack
But he's still trying to break his momma's back
He loved that guitar just like a girlfriend
But ever good thing comes to an end
Now he just sits in his room all day
Whistling every note he used to play
There out to be a law with no bail
Smash a guitar and you go to jail
With no chance for early parole
You don't get out till you get some soul
Late at night the end of the road
He wished he still had the old guitar to hold
He'd rock it like a baby in his arms
Never let it come to any harm
So, last night I was watching “Rock Star Super Nova”. Not a bad bit off fodder to pass the time, while stressing about going to the dentist the next morning. After flying on an airplane, the dentist is my least favorite sporting event. The entire concept of having that many people groping around the inside of your mouth without dinner and drinks first is just wrong.
My idea of “hell” is having a tooth worked on, while in “coach,” seated next to a 350 pound Sales guy.
Anyway, so I am watching this odd little show, where the entire premise is singers attempting to be the new lead singer for Supernova, a band started by Tommy Lee of Motley Crew and Pamela Anderson “Home Movie” fame. Also featured is Gilbey Clarke, formerly of Gun’s N Roses, Jason Newsted, former bass player for Metallica (and apparent deep thinker of the bunch.) Also co-hosting is Dave Navarro, who is an annoying little dude on any level.
During last night’s events, competition, three-ring cluster, the topic of smashing guitars came up. I think The Who were the first to actually take this on as an odd little way of protesting something. I think it was slamming the establishment, by destroying the material things. You had to live through the 60’s, I think, to even begin to grasp the concept. Later, Jimi Hendrix took it to a new level by setting his “Strat” on fire.
I often thought there were probably starving guitar players in China who would have happily taken those instruments and treated them well.
Both Tommy Lee and Dave “I’m much cooler then you” Navarro voiced disappointment that no one had taken their performance to a new level by destroying something. As if on cue, the next “performer” took his Gibson - Les Paul and threw it across the stage.
Nice!
Ok, I’m not the most conservative guy in the world. And, some would even say I am not much on tradition and ‘sacred cows’; but, there is a line.
What possibly does it prove when you need to destroy something as beautiful as the aforementioned ‘Les Paul’?
I just don’t understand the need to destroy things and try to pawn it off as entertaining.
Of course, I’ve been wrong before.
Well he threw one down from the top of the stairs
Beautiful women were standing everywhere
They all got wet when he smashed that thing
But off in the dark you could hear somebody sing
CHORUS:
Oh it breaks my heart to see those stars
Smashing a perfectly good guitar
I don't know who they think they are
Smashing a perfectly good guitar
It started back in 1963
His momma wouldn't buy him
That new red harmony
He settled for a sunburst with a crack
But he's still trying to break his momma's back
He loved that guitar just like a girlfriend
But ever good thing comes to an end
Now he just sits in his room all day
Whistling every note he used to play
There out to be a law with no bail
Smash a guitar and you go to jail
With no chance for early parole
You don't get out till you get some soul
Late at night the end of the road
He wished he still had the old guitar to hold
He'd rock it like a baby in his arms
Never let it come to any harm
So, last night I was watching “Rock Star Super Nova”. Not a bad bit off fodder to pass the time, while stressing about going to the dentist the next morning. After flying on an airplane, the dentist is my least favorite sporting event. The entire concept of having that many people groping around the inside of your mouth without dinner and drinks first is just wrong.
My idea of “hell” is having a tooth worked on, while in “coach,” seated next to a 350 pound Sales guy.
Anyway, so I am watching this odd little show, where the entire premise is singers attempting to be the new lead singer for Supernova, a band started by Tommy Lee of Motley Crew and Pamela Anderson “Home Movie” fame. Also featured is Gilbey Clarke, formerly of Gun’s N Roses, Jason Newsted, former bass player for Metallica (and apparent deep thinker of the bunch.) Also co-hosting is Dave Navarro, who is an annoying little dude on any level.
During last night’s events, competition, three-ring cluster, the topic of smashing guitars came up. I think The Who were the first to actually take this on as an odd little way of protesting something. I think it was slamming the establishment, by destroying the material things. You had to live through the 60’s, I think, to even begin to grasp the concept. Later, Jimi Hendrix took it to a new level by setting his “Strat” on fire.
I often thought there were probably starving guitar players in China who would have happily taken those instruments and treated them well.
Both Tommy Lee and Dave “I’m much cooler then you” Navarro voiced disappointment that no one had taken their performance to a new level by destroying something. As if on cue, the next “performer” took his Gibson - Les Paul and threw it across the stage.
Nice!
Ok, I’m not the most conservative guy in the world. And, some would even say I am not much on tradition and ‘sacred cows’; but, there is a line.
What possibly does it prove when you need to destroy something as beautiful as the aforementioned ‘Les Paul’?
I just don’t understand the need to destroy things and try to pawn it off as entertaining.
Of course, I’ve been wrong before.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
For All That Is Holy...GET A LIFE
Star Trek fan Eric Hall of Utah looks through items for sale at the Star Trek convention at the Las Vegas Hilton in Las Vegas, Nevada in August 2005. Thousands will descend on Las Vegas this weekend for what promises to be the world's largest gathering of fans of Star Trek, the seminal science fiction television series that spawned films, video games, novels, and a singular cult following.(AFP/Getty Images/File/Ethan Miller)
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Coffee, tea or Alfalfa
Just some things I noticed this week:
We were at the “Super Target” the other day. Have you been to one of these? These mammoth tributes to retail, and of course the “Even More Super Wal-Mart”, are unbelievable. I think they employ more people then live in some of the surrounding small towns. It is not hard to understand the number of small businesses that are merely crushed by the mere existence of these stores. The upside being you can shed about 5 pounds by simply walking the entire store.
But I digress, like that’s unusual.
So here we are in the express check out lane in “ST”. A head of us is a middle-aged dude buying a few things that you clearly can no longer take on a plane with you.
He pays with his ATM card and then turns into my mother. He checks his receipt. Carefully folds it and places it in his wallet. He then looks in the bags to make sure everything is there, straightens his shirt and hair and slowly puts his wallet in his pocket….
I am looking at this guy like and want to scream, “Dude up here”. Just grab your shit and move on and worry about your makeup later.
A little later that day we are driving through the parking lot of another retail stadium. Standing in front of the store is a guy in a blue shirt that says in bold letters “Undercover Police” Is it just me, or is this guy totally missing the meaning of the term “Undercover”. I wonder how stupid you would have to be to actually get busted by officer obvious?
ESPN Classic is a channel that is dedicated to showing classic sports events. That being said, why is it every time I turn it on they are showing bowling?
Tom Delay announced he is withdrawing his name from the ballot for the upcoming November election. Seems to make sense since he now lives in Virginia. I actually think he looks a great deal like my realtor back in Washington. Regardless, it seems that in Texas anyone can have his or her name put on the ballot as a write in candidate. So if I can convince my wife to vote for me……
I have been saying this to my wife for years. Vacations are a drag due to all the prep work and so on. Haul half your possessions in suitcases to an airport and then haul even more crap in your carry on. You then get your stuff screened and they wave wands at you after you empty your pockets. But now thanks to those darn industrious folks in the UK, I believe my original concept may have reached a point where it just makes sense.
Fly naked and carry your American Express.
As a friend pointed out, there may be some obvious problems here, but I believe those can be overcome. There would be a 1st class section , coach and of course the bovine section. In order to make flying safer the bovine group would be in the middle section of the plane, preferably in the area that was once used for luggage.
We were at the “Super Target” the other day. Have you been to one of these? These mammoth tributes to retail, and of course the “Even More Super Wal-Mart”, are unbelievable. I think they employ more people then live in some of the surrounding small towns. It is not hard to understand the number of small businesses that are merely crushed by the mere existence of these stores. The upside being you can shed about 5 pounds by simply walking the entire store.
But I digress, like that’s unusual.
So here we are in the express check out lane in “ST”. A head of us is a middle-aged dude buying a few things that you clearly can no longer take on a plane with you.
He pays with his ATM card and then turns into my mother. He checks his receipt. Carefully folds it and places it in his wallet. He then looks in the bags to make sure everything is there, straightens his shirt and hair and slowly puts his wallet in his pocket….
I am looking at this guy like and want to scream, “Dude up here”. Just grab your shit and move on and worry about your makeup later.
A little later that day we are driving through the parking lot of another retail stadium. Standing in front of the store is a guy in a blue shirt that says in bold letters “Undercover Police” Is it just me, or is this guy totally missing the meaning of the term “Undercover”. I wonder how stupid you would have to be to actually get busted by officer obvious?
ESPN Classic is a channel that is dedicated to showing classic sports events. That being said, why is it every time I turn it on they are showing bowling?
Tom Delay announced he is withdrawing his name from the ballot for the upcoming November election. Seems to make sense since he now lives in Virginia. I actually think he looks a great deal like my realtor back in Washington. Regardless, it seems that in Texas anyone can have his or her name put on the ballot as a write in candidate. So if I can convince my wife to vote for me……
I have been saying this to my wife for years. Vacations are a drag due to all the prep work and so on. Haul half your possessions in suitcases to an airport and then haul even more crap in your carry on. You then get your stuff screened and they wave wands at you after you empty your pockets. But now thanks to those darn industrious folks in the UK, I believe my original concept may have reached a point where it just makes sense.
Fly naked and carry your American Express.
As a friend pointed out, there may be some obvious problems here, but I believe those can be overcome. There would be a 1st class section , coach and of course the bovine section. In order to make flying safer the bovine group would be in the middle section of the plane, preferably in the area that was once used for luggage.
Friday, August 11, 2006
I know, just hire a lawn service....
Ok, so the new lawn tractor arrived this morning from Home Depot. It sits in a crate waiting for me to unpack it. Next to it sits THE red Craftsman waiting for Sears to pick it up and send it to another ‘trusting customer.’
I was amazed that Home Depot actually called at 6:30 this morning to say they would be here at 7 am. I told my beautiful wife that the mower was on its way. I then told her the mower is HERE and it’s still even in the crate.
The dogs and I went out to inspect the crate and begin the removal of bolts holding it together. It is customary to load the dogs in the car first thing in the morning and go for a ‘ride’, so the dogs were less then pleased at this variation of our morning routine.
I went into our home and told my bride that the dogs and I were off for our morning ride and that I would work on the crate when I returned. I wished her well at work and said we would chat later.
As I backed out of the garage, I was careful to not back into the crate with the new mower. For a brief second, I thought I should back my wife’s car out for her so she didn’t run into the crate.
I immediately caught myself and realized I was actually buying into the whole DWA (driving while Asian) thing, and headed down the road. Heck, she knew the crate was there and she would certainly see it when she went to her vehicle.
As I drove toward Galveston Bay, I thought to call her on my cell just to give her a ‘heads up’ on the new mower in the crate sitting in the driveway. Just as soon as I realized my cell was still in the kitchen, I also chewed myself out for thinking this call was even required.
Oh sure, she had inadvertently run over a case of bottled water (then backed back over it to see what she had run over) the week before in our garage. And, yes, she had run into the Viking range that was in our garage, waiting to be delivered to my in-laws, but as she said, it wasn’t in her ‘line of sight’. It was just right in front of the car.
And maybe she had on occasion backed into a parked car or other things that weren’t in her ‘line of sight’. But, did it seem fair for me to be concerned?
I got home a few minutes ago and received a call from my bride and the conversation began with “Man, it’s a good thing that mower was in a crate…”
It really gets down to DWE, driving while an engineer. Their ‘line of sight’ would be just a nice way of saying ‘Tunnel Vision’.
I was amazed that Home Depot actually called at 6:30 this morning to say they would be here at 7 am. I told my beautiful wife that the mower was on its way. I then told her the mower is HERE and it’s still even in the crate.
The dogs and I went out to inspect the crate and begin the removal of bolts holding it together. It is customary to load the dogs in the car first thing in the morning and go for a ‘ride’, so the dogs were less then pleased at this variation of our morning routine.
I went into our home and told my bride that the dogs and I were off for our morning ride and that I would work on the crate when I returned. I wished her well at work and said we would chat later.
As I backed out of the garage, I was careful to not back into the crate with the new mower. For a brief second, I thought I should back my wife’s car out for her so she didn’t run into the crate.
I immediately caught myself and realized I was actually buying into the whole DWA (driving while Asian) thing, and headed down the road. Heck, she knew the crate was there and she would certainly see it when she went to her vehicle.
As I drove toward Galveston Bay, I thought to call her on my cell just to give her a ‘heads up’ on the new mower in the crate sitting in the driveway. Just as soon as I realized my cell was still in the kitchen, I also chewed myself out for thinking this call was even required.
Oh sure, she had inadvertently run over a case of bottled water (then backed back over it to see what she had run over) the week before in our garage. And, yes, she had run into the Viking range that was in our garage, waiting to be delivered to my in-laws, but as she said, it wasn’t in her ‘line of sight’. It was just right in front of the car.
And maybe she had on occasion backed into a parked car or other things that weren’t in her ‘line of sight’. But, did it seem fair for me to be concerned?
I got home a few minutes ago and received a call from my bride and the conversation began with “Man, it’s a good thing that mower was in a crate…”
It really gets down to DWE, driving while an engineer. Their ‘line of sight’ would be just a nice way of saying ‘Tunnel Vision’.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
You Have a leak???
Did I mention my Craftsman mower was part of a recall? Some of you may have remembered our joy with Sears in trying to purchase afore mentioned mower.
Anyways, it seems that the gas tank on this model had a bad habit of spilling fuel onto the engine. Not a good thing.
Of course it was going take 2 weeks to get someone out to replace the faulty tank. Ford Pintos kept coming to mind. The man at
So 2 weeks passed and Mr. Service guy shows up. He replaces the tank and explains to me all the while that Craftsman is still the best mower made. I point out that Husqvarna now makes the Craftsman. “Ok” he admits, but points out that it is still better then the mowers Lowes sells.
Of course it is…
After replacing the tank he asks if there is anything else he can help with? I suggest getting on the mower and backing up.
He jumps in the seat and throws it in reverse: the mower crawls backwards at about the speed of an accountant having a good time. Very, very slowly and with no sense of picking up the pace.
He asks me if I knew my mower couldn’t back up? I indicate it might be why I suggested he try it.
A turn of a wrench and an adjustment to the tranny we are in business, till he notices the pin holding on the discharge is missing. He walks to his service truck and gets a replacement pin. He then begins to mumble about how quality has gone down since K-Mart bought them. He laments about the sales people being fools and so on. I offer him a beer.
After sharing more of his thoughts about buyouts and cutting budgets I begin to see how so much of this is one big circle….
And we wonder why 50% of Americana’s still believe that Iraq had WMD’s
Sometimes getting by all the slogans and PR hype lies the real truth and sometimes a beer makes that pill easier to swallow.
Oh, the mower died again this morning and I am in negotiations with the local Sears store to take it back. Wish me luck
Anyways, it seems that the gas tank on this model had a bad habit of spilling fuel onto the engine. Not a good thing.
Of course it was going take 2 weeks to get someone out to replace the faulty tank. Ford Pintos kept coming to mind. The man at
1-800-searssucksexplained I should not attempt to use my mower. Ya think!!!
So 2 weeks passed and Mr. Service guy shows up. He replaces the tank and explains to me all the while that Craftsman is still the best mower made. I point out that Husqvarna now makes the Craftsman. “Ok” he admits, but points out that it is still better then the mowers Lowes sells.
Of course it is…
After replacing the tank he asks if there is anything else he can help with? I suggest getting on the mower and backing up.
He jumps in the seat and throws it in reverse: the mower crawls backwards at about the speed of an accountant having a good time. Very, very slowly and with no sense of picking up the pace.
He asks me if I knew my mower couldn’t back up? I indicate it might be why I suggested he try it.
A turn of a wrench and an adjustment to the tranny we are in business, till he notices the pin holding on the discharge is missing. He walks to his service truck and gets a replacement pin. He then begins to mumble about how quality has gone down since K-Mart bought them. He laments about the sales people being fools and so on. I offer him a beer.
After sharing more of his thoughts about buyouts and cutting budgets I begin to see how so much of this is one big circle….
And we wonder why 50% of Americana’s still believe that Iraq had WMD’s
Sometimes getting by all the slogans and PR hype lies the real truth and sometimes a beer makes that pill easier to swallow.
Oh, the mower died again this morning and I am in negotiations with the local Sears store to take it back. Wish me luck
Monday, August 07, 2006
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Cougars and other trivia
Oh sure, it all goes well until someone notices the minor flaws in your logic…just a series of random thoughts tied together with no apparent reasoning.
My wife always thought it was romantic that I always referred to her as Princess; until the day she heard me also use it as a ‘term of endearment’ on our dog.
When you are dating and you have a sore back, you can usually count on a back rub and words of encouragement. After 13 years of marriage, the most likely response is being asked if you know where the Advil is located.
A friend of mine told me that there were concerns about Cougar sightings at the refinery he works at in Washington State. He forwarded a note with the attachment from the security folks at the facility in regards to the sighting.
I need to point out something here…it brings a minor step change to this advice. In today’s culture, the term “cougar” is used to describe attractive woman over the age of 40. That being said, I doubt this was the intent of the note where my buddy works. Regardless, it does certainly make for a different look at things:
General Advice About Cougar Encounters
“The general advice to avoid being eaten by a cougar is to travel in groups. If you encounter a cougar by yourself or with your children, stop, make yourself look as big as possible, and pick up small children and put them on your shoulders to make you appear even larger. Aggressively defend your position.
The idea is to deter their attack by making them think that it isn't going to be easy for them. Pick up a branch or a rock to help fight them if needed. They are just big kitty-cats, so you don't want to appear as smaller prey to them. In particular, running away makes them think you are prey, and will encourage an attack. Yell for help by screaming ‘cougar!’ or something similarly specific rather than just help!”
I like the advice about putting your child on your shoulder; if all else fails, I guess you just toss the kid at the cougar and run for it.
Driving with a cell phone usually results in the following things:
Your ability to use a turn signal goes away
Your sense of direction and speed are severely hindered.
You suddenly develop a sense of royalty about your persona.
You could find my SUV in your ashtray if I haven’t had my coffee.
This week’s favorite company ad on a truck:
“The critter , getter , ridder guys”.
The bottom of the advertisement included a quote from Psalms with no reference to all creatures great and small.
My wife always thought it was romantic that I always referred to her as Princess; until the day she heard me also use it as a ‘term of endearment’ on our dog.
When you are dating and you have a sore back, you can usually count on a back rub and words of encouragement. After 13 years of marriage, the most likely response is being asked if you know where the Advil is located.
A friend of mine told me that there were concerns about Cougar sightings at the refinery he works at in Washington State. He forwarded a note with the attachment from the security folks at the facility in regards to the sighting.
I need to point out something here…it brings a minor step change to this advice. In today’s culture, the term “cougar” is used to describe attractive woman over the age of 40. That being said, I doubt this was the intent of the note where my buddy works. Regardless, it does certainly make for a different look at things:
General Advice About Cougar Encounters
“The general advice to avoid being eaten by a cougar is to travel in groups. If you encounter a cougar by yourself or with your children, stop, make yourself look as big as possible, and pick up small children and put them on your shoulders to make you appear even larger. Aggressively defend your position.
The idea is to deter their attack by making them think that it isn't going to be easy for them. Pick up a branch or a rock to help fight them if needed. They are just big kitty-cats, so you don't want to appear as smaller prey to them. In particular, running away makes them think you are prey, and will encourage an attack. Yell for help by screaming ‘cougar!’ or something similarly specific rather than just help!”
I like the advice about putting your child on your shoulder; if all else fails, I guess you just toss the kid at the cougar and run for it.
Driving with a cell phone usually results in the following things:
Your ability to use a turn signal goes away
Your sense of direction and speed are severely hindered.
You suddenly develop a sense of royalty about your persona.
You could find my SUV in your ashtray if I haven’t had my coffee.
This week’s favorite company ad on a truck:
“The critter , getter , ridder guys”.
The bottom of the advertisement included a quote from Psalms with no reference to all creatures great and small.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Mississippi Understandings
By Robert Johnson
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
Asked the Lord above for mercy, "Save me if you please."
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
Nobody seemed to know me, everybody passed me by.
I'm going down to Rosedale, take my rider by my side.
I'm going down to Rosedale, take my rider by my side.
You can still barrelhouse, baby, on the riverside.
Last week, we were in the Delta of Mississippi. My Father-in-Law had suffered a small stroke; we headed up to check on him and to help make some modifications to my In-Law’s house in preparation for his return home.
My wife grew up in a small town that Robert Johnson made famous in his song “The Crossroads.” Eric Clapton first recorded this song with Cream back in the 60’s and he has revisited this tune on many occasions, most recently on his album, “Me and Mr. Johnson”.
The legend goes that Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil at the Crossroads in the Delta in exchange for fame and fortune. The Crossroads are actually near Clarksdale and Highway 61. Clarksdale is also the Home of the Delta Blues Museum. When I first visited in 1997, the Blues Museum was barely a ‘blip’ on the radar and was mostly kept a float by the financial backing of Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top fame. More recently, a native son of Mississippi has moved back to the Clarksdale and the Museum has flourished under Morgan Freeman’s stewardship.
Trying to describe the Delta is next to peace in the Middle East, the best you can do is give it your best shot. I have seen heat in my life, the Delta redefines that.
Forget “hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk”; here, you could fry the entire chicken. As we drive south on Highway 61, the heat gives the illusion of water covering the road. It seems to be a mist that rises from the asphalt and wraps everything around IT sees. As we pass the turn-off for Alligator, crop dusters buzz the highway and fill the air with a chemical mist that only adds to the feeling of an alien landscape.
There is poverty here on a scale you can only imagine in a Third World country. The checkered past of racism, sharecroppers and a defined economic separation only adds to the elements that make up the Deep South. And yet, it fills you with wonder and you see why this is the Home of the Blues.
This is not about any given song; it is clearly more about the truth in the lyrics and the day-to-day lives that created an entire genre of our musical history.
A trip to the Delta is never complete without a visit to see Miss Katherine. A day with her is far too short and I imagine a month would barely scratch the surface of the wisdom and humor that this angel is willing to share.
Miss Katherine will be 97 next month, unless she can find someway to get to Holland, where assisted suicide is legal. She wonders at why God doesn’t allow her to pass on. She sees no purpose to her longevity. She scoffs at my insistence that she is a treasure and her stories make any drive to the Delta worthwhile.
When Miss Katherine was in her 40’s, her husband passed away…leaving her to farm 140 acres on her own. And farm it; she did for 25 more years. She tells you about knowing every cotton plant and every furrow she had plowed. She bemoans the corporate farms that now ‘control’ the Delta.
I could write a series of books about her and maybe someday I will. This is not a person you ever forget. She has been in my wife’s life since the first hour my wife was born. She has always been there. When my new bride took me to the Delta for the first time in 1997 she told me we were going to go visit an old friend. She explained that Miss Katherine had no TV and no air conditioning. I said I would bring a book to read while they visited.
I never opened the book. It was explained that Miss Katherine played the organ for the local Baptist church in Rosedale. I assumed she must be a strict Baptist and so on. When I asked her in our first visit, how long she had been a Baptist; she responded with a laugh that she wasn’t a Baptist. Seeing the questioning look on my face, she stated “Hell, Sweetheart… I’m no Baptist, but they sure pay better than the Methodists.” We bonded on the spot.
She gardened and mowed the lawn till she was 95. Her ‘74 Ford LTD sits in the carport, covered with moss; she stopped driving when she turned 75. She says she wasn’t too concerned if she got killed in a car accident; but, thought it unfair to the general public, if she took a few of them out with her.
Miss Katherine recently got out of the hospital. When she woke from the surgery, she looked around and declared, “If I’m not dead, I’m going to be pissed.” She is down to 85 lbs. and she is going blind. She uses the broom that she sweeps her home for as much for balance as she does for cleaning. Yet, her blue eyes light up when she sees you and her hugs are as strong as ever.
She wants to go to a nursing home now. She wants this for the wrong reason. Two weeks ago, two punks did something that time and the ravishes of life have not been able to do.
They scared her. In the middle of the night, they cut open a screen and ransacked her home. She slept while they went from room to room, looking for things to steal. She does chuckle that they stole her electric razor, but forgot the power cord. They did not harm her physically, but they stole something more precious, they took her safe haven from the world.
I would like to meet these two and take them for a ride into the swamps of the Delta.
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
Asked the Lord above for mercy, "Save me if you please."
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
Nobody seemed to know me, everybody passed me by.
I'm going down to Rosedale, take my rider by my side.
I'm going down to Rosedale, take my rider by my side.
You can still barrelhouse, baby, on the riverside.
Last week, we were in the Delta of Mississippi. My Father-in-Law had suffered a small stroke; we headed up to check on him and to help make some modifications to my In-Law’s house in preparation for his return home.
My wife grew up in a small town that Robert Johnson made famous in his song “The Crossroads.” Eric Clapton first recorded this song with Cream back in the 60’s and he has revisited this tune on many occasions, most recently on his album, “Me and Mr. Johnson”.
The legend goes that Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil at the Crossroads in the Delta in exchange for fame and fortune. The Crossroads are actually near Clarksdale and Highway 61. Clarksdale is also the Home of the Delta Blues Museum. When I first visited in 1997, the Blues Museum was barely a ‘blip’ on the radar and was mostly kept a float by the financial backing of Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top fame. More recently, a native son of Mississippi has moved back to the Clarksdale and the Museum has flourished under Morgan Freeman’s stewardship.
Trying to describe the Delta is next to peace in the Middle East, the best you can do is give it your best shot. I have seen heat in my life, the Delta redefines that.
Forget “hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk”; here, you could fry the entire chicken. As we drive south on Highway 61, the heat gives the illusion of water covering the road. It seems to be a mist that rises from the asphalt and wraps everything around IT sees. As we pass the turn-off for Alligator, crop dusters buzz the highway and fill the air with a chemical mist that only adds to the feeling of an alien landscape.
There is poverty here on a scale you can only imagine in a Third World country. The checkered past of racism, sharecroppers and a defined economic separation only adds to the elements that make up the Deep South. And yet, it fills you with wonder and you see why this is the Home of the Blues.
This is not about any given song; it is clearly more about the truth in the lyrics and the day-to-day lives that created an entire genre of our musical history.
A trip to the Delta is never complete without a visit to see Miss Katherine. A day with her is far too short and I imagine a month would barely scratch the surface of the wisdom and humor that this angel is willing to share.
Miss Katherine will be 97 next month, unless she can find someway to get to Holland, where assisted suicide is legal. She wonders at why God doesn’t allow her to pass on. She sees no purpose to her longevity. She scoffs at my insistence that she is a treasure and her stories make any drive to the Delta worthwhile.
When Miss Katherine was in her 40’s, her husband passed away…leaving her to farm 140 acres on her own. And farm it; she did for 25 more years. She tells you about knowing every cotton plant and every furrow she had plowed. She bemoans the corporate farms that now ‘control’ the Delta.
I could write a series of books about her and maybe someday I will. This is not a person you ever forget. She has been in my wife’s life since the first hour my wife was born. She has always been there. When my new bride took me to the Delta for the first time in 1997 she told me we were going to go visit an old friend. She explained that Miss Katherine had no TV and no air conditioning. I said I would bring a book to read while they visited.
I never opened the book. It was explained that Miss Katherine played the organ for the local Baptist church in Rosedale. I assumed she must be a strict Baptist and so on. When I asked her in our first visit, how long she had been a Baptist; she responded with a laugh that she wasn’t a Baptist. Seeing the questioning look on my face, she stated “Hell, Sweetheart… I’m no Baptist, but they sure pay better than the Methodists.” We bonded on the spot.
She gardened and mowed the lawn till she was 95. Her ‘74 Ford LTD sits in the carport, covered with moss; she stopped driving when she turned 75. She says she wasn’t too concerned if she got killed in a car accident; but, thought it unfair to the general public, if she took a few of them out with her.
Miss Katherine recently got out of the hospital. When she woke from the surgery, she looked around and declared, “If I’m not dead, I’m going to be pissed.” She is down to 85 lbs. and she is going blind. She uses the broom that she sweeps her home for as much for balance as she does for cleaning. Yet, her blue eyes light up when she sees you and her hugs are as strong as ever.
She wants to go to a nursing home now. She wants this for the wrong reason. Two weeks ago, two punks did something that time and the ravishes of life have not been able to do.
They scared her. In the middle of the night, they cut open a screen and ransacked her home. She slept while they went from room to room, looking for things to steal. She does chuckle that they stole her electric razor, but forgot the power cord. They did not harm her physically, but they stole something more precious, they took her safe haven from the world.
I would like to meet these two and take them for a ride into the swamps of the Delta.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Civil Servants Rule...like it or not
We have moved a great many times, and usually my wife has a better-looking driver’s license picture when it is all said and done.
With every move there is always the given things you need to go through. Find a house… find a house with a big enough yard for our 2 ‘kids’ and of course, a fence that the ‘kids’ can’t escape from… then find a grocery store, Post Office and so on. When you first look for a Post Office, you can spend hours just looking for one. After that is accomplished, you find one at almost every corner, just like a Starbucks.
Along with that, of course comes the inevitable registering of vehicles and Driver’s License. To date, California was the toughest and South Carolina the easiest.
Now, let’s discuss Texas. When we moved, we were given a guide on where to register the rigs and where to get our Driver’s Licenses. We read the guide, gathered up all the required documentation and headed towards the Galveston County Annex in League City to register the cars. We waited in line with some 30 odd folks and watched the 2 Clerks working at ‘breakneck speed’ to get people through the line. It was amounting to about ‘10 minutes per transaction’.
A lot can be said about Texas and certainly one of these would be the outspoken ‘Senior’s’. A few days prior to this attempt, I was at the local HEB grocery store getting some food for a BBQ. With me, was a good friend who with his wife, were visiting us from Washington State. We waited ‘in line’ behind a mother and daughter who were stocking up on their own supplies.
The ‘checker’ was a young African American woman who clearly had not passed on many of the free food samples in the store. The mother ahead of us looked to be somewhere between 70 or 80. She was skinny as a rail and had skin the texture of beef jerky left out in the sun a bit too long. She was clearly getting agitated at the length of the process; my sense was that there was probably an unfiltered Lucky Strike waiting to be fired up.
She turned and mumbled something to my friend who smiled in return and politely said he didn’t quite hear her. Undaunted, she merely cleared her throat and nodding in the direction of the checker, declared, “She hasn’t missed many meals.”
Her ‘sister’ was behind us in line at the County Annex. When someone offered to let her sit on the bench, she looked around and in a gravelly voice said “ Naw… I’m fine, just wish they would get something done around here other than bullshitting and looking like they are important.”
Well, we finally got our turn. My wife would rather have teeth pulled than go through all of this. We didn’t have the right forms and in spite of what the helpful guide we were given said, these folks were not taking a check to cover the costs. She explained that without a valid Texas Driver’s license, CASH was our only option. When I said then maybe we should go get our Drivers License first. The Clerk “snickered” and replied that you had to “register your vehicles first, before you could get a license”.
I was in the mood to play the “chicken and the egg” debate; but, the look of panic on my wife’s face made me think this might be a bad thing.
We left to grab lunch and then to pick up the needed cash from the local B of A. Freshly fed, we went back with CASH in hand and all our forms done in order. This time, we were able to conduct our business quickly and soon we were given our Texas plates and tags. As we concluded the transaction the new Clerk asked if this would be “Cash or check?” Ok then, not a word.
We handed over the cash and the woman in great detail began to talk to me about where she was from and how long she had been in Texas and so on…
As we retreated from the Annex, we both commented on how “nice” it was that the Clerk “liked me a lot.” I told my wife she was delusional.
Next, we set off to get our Driver’s Licenses. We first went to the local office in Texas City, as our guide had recommended. After listening to the Clerk try to explain to a young man that “not only could she not issue him a license because of unpaid tickets, there was also an arrest warrant out for him because of this.” The young man was not easily put off. He continued to explain that he had forgotten to pay the tickets and it didn’t seem fair that he should be punished because of it. I am thinking through this why doesn’t the Clerk simply ‘wave over the Texas Highway Patrol dude’ who is working at the same office, and make the introductions.
We opted to proceed to the next office in Clear Lake. We noticed this seemed a much more efficient operation. We handed our forms and ID’s to the woman at the greeting table. She looked at everything we had, old license, Passport, insurance cards and of course, our ‘newly’ registered vehicle cards. We however did not produce a Social Security Card….back to the house we go.
About six months prior, I had gone to get my Social Security Card changed to reflect my legal name. Valid identity and 9-11 sort of stuff… when I got to the Social Security Administration office in Bellingham, they looked up my info and asked for my Alien Green Card.
I explained I had become a citizen back in 1985. The Clerk explained they had no record of this. She then added the different agencies rarely exchange that type of information.
Well, we got that fixed and we headed to the local Post Office to get my passport. We followed the sign to the back of the Post Office. We saw the Passport dude sitting at his desk and walked in. He asked if he could help us and I replied, “Yes, he could. I needed a passport.” He looked a bit concerned and asked if I had an appointment. After a brief pause, I acknowledged that I did not. He opened a book and said he would see what was available. I hurt something in my head trying not to say “There is nobody here, You Moron.”
He finished looking and said he had an opening at 11:35 on the 5th. I looked at the clock and noticed it said 11:20 and yep, today was the 5th. He looked at us and asked, “Can you make that time?” I remember as we walked back through the lobby of the Post Office, I would have time for a smoke before we would have to walk back through the lobby to make my appointment.
Ok, so now we are back in line for the Driver’s License. All the paperwork is in order; nothing could possibly go wrong now.
My wife goes first and I patiently, wait my turn. I answer all the questions and so on. I glance up and see that my bride has finished with her paperwork… although; I don’t recall having seen her picture being taken. Oh, well, I was pretty busy.
I now have my License, the world is ‘good’ and yet, I notice my wife is back in the line we just came from. The look on her face is similar to what my daughter had when she was younger and was caught telling a lie or something else ‘earth shattering.’ I think, “Oh no, it’s the stolen sod thing and she is going down for it.”
Ok, here is the deal. When you get married, you need to change your Social Security Card to reflect your ‘new’ married name. They take this pretty serious in the Lone Star State. So on that condition, we head directly to the Social Security Administration office in Galveston and the State of Texas grants my wife her license. They also said they would be checking with Social Security to make sure she did the right thing.
Remind me to share what life is like at the Social Security office in Galveston sometime…..
With every move there is always the given things you need to go through. Find a house… find a house with a big enough yard for our 2 ‘kids’ and of course, a fence that the ‘kids’ can’t escape from… then find a grocery store, Post Office and so on. When you first look for a Post Office, you can spend hours just looking for one. After that is accomplished, you find one at almost every corner, just like a Starbucks.
Along with that, of course comes the inevitable registering of vehicles and Driver’s License. To date, California was the toughest and South Carolina the easiest.
Now, let’s discuss Texas. When we moved, we were given a guide on where to register the rigs and where to get our Driver’s Licenses. We read the guide, gathered up all the required documentation and headed towards the Galveston County Annex in League City to register the cars. We waited in line with some 30 odd folks and watched the 2 Clerks working at ‘breakneck speed’ to get people through the line. It was amounting to about ‘10 minutes per transaction’.
A lot can be said about Texas and certainly one of these would be the outspoken ‘Senior’s’. A few days prior to this attempt, I was at the local HEB grocery store getting some food for a BBQ. With me, was a good friend who with his wife, were visiting us from Washington State. We waited ‘in line’ behind a mother and daughter who were stocking up on their own supplies.
The ‘checker’ was a young African American woman who clearly had not passed on many of the free food samples in the store. The mother ahead of us looked to be somewhere between 70 or 80. She was skinny as a rail and had skin the texture of beef jerky left out in the sun a bit too long. She was clearly getting agitated at the length of the process; my sense was that there was probably an unfiltered Lucky Strike waiting to be fired up.
She turned and mumbled something to my friend who smiled in return and politely said he didn’t quite hear her. Undaunted, she merely cleared her throat and nodding in the direction of the checker, declared, “She hasn’t missed many meals.”
Her ‘sister’ was behind us in line at the County Annex. When someone offered to let her sit on the bench, she looked around and in a gravelly voice said “ Naw… I’m fine, just wish they would get something done around here other than bullshitting and looking like they are important.”
Well, we finally got our turn. My wife would rather have teeth pulled than go through all of this. We didn’t have the right forms and in spite of what the helpful guide we were given said, these folks were not taking a check to cover the costs. She explained that without a valid Texas Driver’s license, CASH was our only option. When I said then maybe we should go get our Drivers License first. The Clerk “snickered” and replied that you had to “register your vehicles first, before you could get a license”.
I was in the mood to play the “chicken and the egg” debate; but, the look of panic on my wife’s face made me think this might be a bad thing.
We left to grab lunch and then to pick up the needed cash from the local B of A. Freshly fed, we went back with CASH in hand and all our forms done in order. This time, we were able to conduct our business quickly and soon we were given our Texas plates and tags. As we concluded the transaction the new Clerk asked if this would be “Cash or check?” Ok then, not a word.
We handed over the cash and the woman in great detail began to talk to me about where she was from and how long she had been in Texas and so on…
As we retreated from the Annex, we both commented on how “nice” it was that the Clerk “liked me a lot.” I told my wife she was delusional.
Next, we set off to get our Driver’s Licenses. We first went to the local office in Texas City, as our guide had recommended. After listening to the Clerk try to explain to a young man that “not only could she not issue him a license because of unpaid tickets, there was also an arrest warrant out for him because of this.” The young man was not easily put off. He continued to explain that he had forgotten to pay the tickets and it didn’t seem fair that he should be punished because of it. I am thinking through this why doesn’t the Clerk simply ‘wave over the Texas Highway Patrol dude’ who is working at the same office, and make the introductions.
We opted to proceed to the next office in Clear Lake. We noticed this seemed a much more efficient operation. We handed our forms and ID’s to the woman at the greeting table. She looked at everything we had, old license, Passport, insurance cards and of course, our ‘newly’ registered vehicle cards. We however did not produce a Social Security Card….back to the house we go.
About six months prior, I had gone to get my Social Security Card changed to reflect my legal name. Valid identity and 9-11 sort of stuff… when I got to the Social Security Administration office in Bellingham, they looked up my info and asked for my Alien Green Card.
I explained I had become a citizen back in 1985. The Clerk explained they had no record of this. She then added the different agencies rarely exchange that type of information.
Well, we got that fixed and we headed to the local Post Office to get my passport. We followed the sign to the back of the Post Office. We saw the Passport dude sitting at his desk and walked in. He asked if he could help us and I replied, “Yes, he could. I needed a passport.” He looked a bit concerned and asked if I had an appointment. After a brief pause, I acknowledged that I did not. He opened a book and said he would see what was available. I hurt something in my head trying not to say “There is nobody here, You Moron.”
He finished looking and said he had an opening at 11:35 on the 5th. I looked at the clock and noticed it said 11:20 and yep, today was the 5th. He looked at us and asked, “Can you make that time?” I remember as we walked back through the lobby of the Post Office, I would have time for a smoke before we would have to walk back through the lobby to make my appointment.
Ok, so now we are back in line for the Driver’s License. All the paperwork is in order; nothing could possibly go wrong now.
My wife goes first and I patiently, wait my turn. I answer all the questions and so on. I glance up and see that my bride has finished with her paperwork… although; I don’t recall having seen her picture being taken. Oh, well, I was pretty busy.
I now have my License, the world is ‘good’ and yet, I notice my wife is back in the line we just came from. The look on her face is similar to what my daughter had when she was younger and was caught telling a lie or something else ‘earth shattering.’ I think, “Oh no, it’s the stolen sod thing and she is going down for it.”
Ok, here is the deal. When you get married, you need to change your Social Security Card to reflect your ‘new’ married name. They take this pretty serious in the Lone Star State. So on that condition, we head directly to the Social Security Administration office in Galveston and the State of Texas grants my wife her license. They also said they would be checking with Social Security to make sure she did the right thing.
Remind me to share what life is like at the Social Security office in Galveston sometime…..
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