Tuesday, April 28, 2020

Remembering Bob

I had intended on a vehemently critical diatribe regarding our President and his total failure as President......  Instead, while perusing images buried deep in the gulliwots of my 'puter, I ran across Bob.  Seeing Bob made me crack a smile and diverted my bad impression of Life at this moment to a trip down the lanes where memories reside.

Problem with memories is I never know what lane I will end up on.  Keg party or pity party.  Never know going in.  Cheers or tears, memories keep me connected to the here and now by reminding me of where I came from and who I ran into along the way.

And Bob sits in the forefront today.  Remembering his yowl he called a meow made my smile turn on the tears for a second or so.  Our often indifferent co-existence broken when he needed us.  He knew where home was and he checked in often.  But much of his life he spent out in the pucker eating what he killed.

His head butts were not gentle.  His idea of petting was more of a beat down.  No, Bob was no Nancy Cat.  And he sure let me know when he had had enough.

Bob was a bad ass.  Bob took no shit.  He was indeed a warrior.  If you were included in his circle, you had a friend for life.  But don't piss him off.

To this day I miss him terribly.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..................................

Tuesday, April 07, 2020

John Prine

There are no words I can convey
There is no more sadness I can share
There were no more songs that touched me
As deeply as his did. RIP.


I only caught John Prine once.  It was in a Dallas Honky Tonk and I was between driving tours for SHOWCO in 1977 I think.  Good whiskey and his music was a night I remember to this day.

This is how I remember him then.  

A couple of favorites - Enjoy


Flag Decal

Monday, April 06, 2020

Screaming Fire in a Crowded Theater

I am in a quandary as to why some Trump official idiot decided to add fuel to the panic fire of Covid-19 by warning us that this week will be "our Pearl Harbor Moment"?

Okay, I get it that this week could be some kind of peak and that we should acknowledge the possibility of a worse week than last week.  But if the absolute lack of real knowledge shown so far is any indication, the so called experts are working with incomplete data and best guesses based on previous situations that do not cleanly dove tail with Covid-19.

Use of common sense seems the only accurate advice we have.  Stay the fuck home.  Keep people away and sit tight.

What really bothers me is the use of the term, "Pearl Harbor Moment".  Covid-19 was not a sneak attack.  The Trump administration saw it coming and did next to nothing to address it in the absolute crucial early stages. They even called it a hoax.  But, if we have any faith in our outrageously expensive and massive intelligence industry, someone in government had to know about Covid-19 at least by mid to late December of 2019.   Some analyst nerd buried deep in the bowels of Fort Meade or Langley, VA was watching this and writing reports back then.  If they weren't, we should shit can the whole intelligence network.

To assign a term like "Pearl Harbor Moment" in my opinion is trying to subliminally place in our minds that they, the Trump administration,  were caught with their pants down.  They weren't, but the citizens were.

The term "Pearl Harbor Moment" should have never left the lips of the Trump lackey who used it.  The Media should not have latched onto it as a "sky is falling" moment.  What I like to see from our leaders, including the press, is factual transparency and deliberate calm without hyperbole that amounts to screaming "Fire" in a crowded theater.

Maintaining calm wherever possible is almost more important than the pandemic itself.  We will live through this.  But how we act while it is here is what will determine much of what we end up with in our future.

Later ...........................................................

Saturday, April 04, 2020

Killing in the Name of Crosses

So yesterday I wiled away my day puttering here and puttering there.  Then I took a break from the drudgery of doing nothing in particular and focused my attention on my Facebook feed.  I came across 2 music video's posted by a fellow who obviously had a bone to pick with Christianity, America, and everything in between.

One of the videos was "The Revolution Will Not be Televised", by Gil Scott-Heron.  It is an angry slam poem from the Black Panther days in the early 1970's.  I had not heard it in years.  It caused the few remaining counter culture hairs on my body to stand up straight.  Like some Dr Strangelove parody, I had to resist throwing my fist in the air.  Blast from my past for sure.

The tune is as relevant today as it was in 1971.  The World stage may have shifted and the actors may have changed, but the message is the same.  America is not, nor has it ever been, the perfect sanctum of Democratic ideals.  We are all equal, only some of us are more equal then others.  (My apologies to Orwell and Animal Farm)

The other music video posted was "Killing in the Name....", by Rage Against the Machine.  It is a very political in your face "Fuck You" aimed at contemporary White America.  They pound their point home with a sledge hammer.  Great tune if you like head bangin.  If you do, turn it up to WOW before you punch it up.

And though both tunes are really racial in tone and aimed at White America, I had to twist their meaning to fit my own chosen narrative and a favorite go to target, Evangelical Christianity.

The softer kinder face Christianity likes to portray in recent times is the same Christianity that was responsible for the Crusades, the Inquisition and the KKK.  The edge hugging edition, Evangelical Christianity, is the modern throwback version.  Call it Old Testament, version 1.2.  Evangelical Christianity is not a gentle religion.  It is not a kind religion.  It is unforgiving and vengeful to those who are seen as threats, no matter whether they are or not.  There is no give in their doctrine.  It's their way or the highway.

The militant Evangelical branch recently crawled out into the light, invited by Donald Trump in his quest to find as many adoring fans as possible.  The hypocrisy and stupidity of the Evangelical extremists is now in full view for everyone to see.  Problem is, will anyone really care?

We should care, for the Evangelical Fundies have declared war on anyone not within their prayer circle.  We are their enemies now if we do not look through the same lenses as they do.  We are their enemies if we are not the same color as they.  And in a ridiculous show of extreme intolerance, we are their enemies based on who we sleep with. 

Though their inflexibility is their weakness, that does not make them less dangerous.  They are focused and armed with the incontrovertible proof of the Old Testament.  We best be watchful.

Later ...................................................

Saturday, March 28, 2020

Mr Moderator

Okay.  Awhile back I agreed to become a moderator for a local Facebook page named "What's Up in Acton".  It is a closed group whose price of admission is having some connection, however nebulous, to the town of Acton, Maine.  The owner (administrator) of the site has a vision of a local site that does not feed the fires of hate and discontent.  His site is for publishing all things local - schedules, information, congratulations, and lovely images of pets and sunsets taken by local folk.  He wants the mood to be pleasant and civil.  I like the site and like his vision of it.

I did not appreciate at the time I took the job, that I would have to deal with a**holes like myself.  "Clockwork Orange" plays in my head every time I delete a post or shut down commenting.  I replay the movie and the scenes where "Alex", freshly out of detention, is accosted by two of his old partners in crime.  Only now, they are cops.  As it turns out, criminals do make better sheriffs it seems.

Confrontation and bad blood have their place out here in the weird world that is the Internet.  Everything has its place in the Internet.  There's plenty of room for hate and discontent.  I can find all I want.  I don't want to, nor should I, put that hate and discontent on a page that does not embrace it.

It's the polite thing to do and that's why I'm a speech cop of sorts.  It seems to me, especially given the times we are living in, Freedom of Speech is best exercised with common sense for the common good.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ......................................................

Friday, March 27, 2020

Another Covid-19 Diary - Nothing to Say

Many people are using their FB page  and/or their blogs to keep a "Corona Virus Log".  Titles like "Covid Log- Day 12" or "Quarantine Diary - 2020" fill us in on all the boredom someone else wants to share with us via the InterWebs.  When we had no virus, many, if not most of us, skipped the boring existences of others and chased down cat and dog videos, cute as pie baby vlogs, and righteous indignation meme's that disrespected their views on current affairs.  Are these virus histories really just a way to show others they are more bored than anyone else?

I wonder if I should start one and write down all the excitement that is now my life living in the southwestern pucker of Maine.  Okay.

So here goes.  Hmm .......................................................  Hold on.  I burned my hand on a pan handle two days ago and it hurt like Hell.  What's next?

Hmm ......................................................Uh,  My wife and I have begun making up Covid Gift bags with toilet paper and Kleenex in them.   ..................................................  Oh yeah, began some limited yard clean up.  Not because of the physical distancing thing, more because I am coming off some health issues and my stamina is, well, nonexistent.

Gas prices have plummeted.  A local Mom and Pop, Boonies, has gas at 1.49 /gal.  In Sanford, its $1.99 to 2.49.

Try as I might, I really have nothing to say. Yet, I still found a way to put nothing into words.

Ya'll stay safe, keep your distances, and stop believing any news that comes from the Administration or any Republican for that matter.  They are all full of shit.

Later ...................................................

Thursday, March 26, 2020

Panic in the Pucker

I was confident I had not gotten sucked into the over the top panic that has our country and the World by the short hairs. I was sure I was being cool and aloof, totally resistant to the out of control anxiety sweeping the land.  Then I saw a Facebook post from a local creamery that offered five pounds of butter for $20. That's all it took for me to become " that guy ", the guy who throws common sense out the window and drive miles to score something he may not now need, but will surely need in his not too distant future.

The offer was simple enough.  Drive 30 miles to the creamery on Sunday noonish and between the hours of 1:00 and 2:00 PM , the nice folks there will give me a five pound bucket of lightly salted butter for $20, cash only, thank you very much.

A no brainer, right?  What could go wrong?  Polite civilized folks coagulating under the bright afternoon Sun would be surely be a pleasant encounter.  And who knows, new friends might be found.  The problem, as it turned out, was the creamery and myself did not consider that panicked folks are not prone to being sensible or pleasant at any given moment.

So happy as if I had a brain, I gathered up Maggie and we headed to Arundel, Maine.  All the way there I congratulated myself on getting over on the system.  Yeah, I was full of myself until I rounded the last sweeping curve on Rte. 111 before the creamery and was stopped dead in my tracks.  300 yards up at the creamery entrance, east and westbound traffic was at a standstill. Bumper to Bumper as far as the eye could see.   Rte 111, a crucial east-west artery in our parts, was clogged hard.  All in the name of butter.

I immediately came out of my panic driven haze and said, "To Hell with this.  I want no part of it."  And I performed the perfect 3 point turn around and headed the 30 miles back from whence I came.

Oddly I did not berate myself.  Usual stupidity on my part is followed by several moments of self flagellation and colorful recriminations.  Instead, as I was on the road, I parked self abuse for future fun and games.  I decided to stop off at Hannaford's, a regional supermarket chain, on my way home.  Just a short detour. I wanted to verify that the empty shelves I saw on Saturday were still empty on Sunday.

Imagine my delight when I walked into a store that had seriously re-stocked.  There was still no toilet paper, Kleenex, or disinfectant wipes, but I picked up bread, canned beans, lots of fresh chicken, and last but not least, 4 pounds of butter in a cold case that on Saturday was barren.  As it turned out, I found 90% of what was on the shopping list.  It dawned on me as I put butter in my cart, my panic driven 60 mile quest for butter was a fool's errand that emphasized the need to remain calm when all others have lost their shit.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...........................................

Friday, March 06, 2020

1955 or Thereabouts

I was born in Colorado Springs, Colorado in 1952.  At the time the town was busy riding the economic wave of defense contract money being thrown at establishing an Air Force Academy there and efforts to defend against the Soviet nuclear threat which at the time was the DEW Line, a series of radar installations in the Arctic that would warn of Soviet Bombers encroaching into ours and Canada's airspace.  My father had much to do with spending that defense money as he was chief budget officer for the Pacific Air Forces (PACAF).  He was especially proud of his work on the DEW Line.

My memories of Colorado Springs are mostly bits and pieces, hints and allegations passed down to me when I was older.  We left Colorado when I was four and settled in Japan for a brief period before moving to Hickam AFB in Hawaii when I was six.

Of the pleasant memories I can muster up as my own and not retold tales I heard around the dinner table, the most striking ones were the Rocky Mountains that loomed large outside my bedroom window just to the west of town. The Rockies' massive presence made anything else in the picture just incidental objects to give perspective to just how large and in charge the mountain chain was.

I remember being glued to the window late at night and watching lines of thunder storms breech the peaks to the west.  My horizon was completely inundated with countless lightning strikes that seemed to go on forever.  And I remember not being scared, just completely entranced by the awesome display.  To this day, even after having later felt a lightning strike up close enough to hurt some, I am not afraid of lightning.

My other memory I remember is the entertainment we could get over the airwaves which originated in Denver, 75 miles away.  The one radio station available played non stop Country.  So the first music I remember is Hank Williams and Bill Monroe who became lifetime favorites.  Television memories were all about Pinky Lee and Howdy Doody on a round black and white TV that only worked when we found the best position for the antenna complex that resided on top of the TV.

Then there are the second hand tales told to me by parents, brothers, uncles and aunts.  Most are funny, but I never have felt they were my memories.  They were someone else's interpretations of me as a child.  Tales constructed outside of my personal experience about my personal experience.  I am sure they were the true renditions of interested observers.

Some of the memories I have of this time were not so pleasant.  I remember going into panics when I knew we were headed to the base for another round of inoculations forced on me in the run up to us leaving for Japan.  I remember my dog Dooley and the night he ran out into the road and was hit by a car.

Some memories I buried for years. One was the notion that I never felt like a part of my family.  Kids pick up vibes and as soon as I had a clue, I never felt I was accepted completely and without reservation.  My brothers seemed distant and treated me like a stranger.  It was not until I found my parents marriage certificate after Dad died that the cold shoulder I felt my whole life made some sense.  I was conceived out of wedlock between husbands.  And even though officially I was not a bastard, I think now that I was treated as one by my brothers and my mother's family.  Oddly my father's sister, my puritanical Aunt Helen, accepted me into her heart without reservation and became my defacto grand parent.

Don't get me wrong.  I was never mistreated in the classical sense.  It was more a feeling of being ignored, or being a tiring responsibility one dealt with.  To this day, I still  harbor some latent resentment.

So there you are, some memories dating back as far as I can remember.  Hope you enjoyed them as I certainly have writing them down.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ......................................

Thursday, March 05, 2020

SSDD - Big Money Wins Again

Well Maine did its best to keep a wannabe Republican from winning the Democratic Primary here in Maine.  Bernie won my town Acton, 109 to Biden's 85.  Yes, Status Quo Joe had a good day.  Super Tuesday has to be a disappointment to Bernie and crew.  In the long run it matters not as long as the Democrats can pull everyone together to drop Trump like a bad habit come November 3rd.

And so it goes.  The corporate establishment running the Democratic Party finally pulled their heads out of their asses and fell back on the time honored "smoke filled back room dealing" that worked so well in the past.  I am not sure what was promised to whom, but the sudden departure from the race of Mayor Pete and Klobuchar just before Super Tuesday smelled of that kind of dealing.  If Biden wins the nomination, something tells me one of them will be his running mate.  Though I think Warren would be better controlled if she was his VP and not running around loose in the Senate.

And then Biden rewarded Beto for his support with a promise he will be in charge of Biden's Gun Control efforts.  The old dog tricks at work.  Almost makes me tear up.  The smoke is really starting to billow out of those back rooms.

Of course I cannot prove, nor do I wish to prove these old school political machinations.  It is what politics are based on.  Deals behind closed doors that will placate the real power behind politics, Big Money.

There used to be some balance between those who ran the Capitalist/ Business side of things and those who ran the country from the various seats of power scattered hither and yon.  Sensible Capitalists had been taught the hard way back in the early part of the 20th century that unbridled Capitalism ends up being counter productive to not only the people whose labor they depended on but in the long run, their own bottom line as well.

The progress this country made starting with Teddy Roosevelt and his campaign to break the strangle hold of monopolies to his cousin FDR's success in establishing social programs convinced the Capitalists of the 50's, 60's and 70's that a Progressive agenda and money grubbing could coexist nicely.  The uncomfortable alliance held right up until the Reagan dynasty.  That is when unfettered greed took over.  It has been downhill ever since.

Blinded by their avarice and bulging pockets, the money grubbers will pay a price.  They always do.  At some point serfs will show up at their front gates and they won't be asking anymore, they will take what they feel is owed. 

Later .....................................

Wednesday, March 04, 2020

It is Humble Perfection

I was pretty sure my Metal days were over.  I used to bang my head with the best of them for awhile.  Metal, like Pop music, all started sounding the same.  It was the 80s, nobody but Metallica did it for me.  I moved on I guess.  Then a year ago, a good friend turned me onto "The Sound of Silence" cover by Disturbed, a Metal band I had never gotten to know.  Just like that, Metal was back in my life.

Cool.  There's always room to welcome back an old friend.

As I watched one of the video's, I perused the comments looking for the one comment that encapsulated this song as I perceive Simon and Garfunkel , and now Disturbed, meant it to .

Jessica from who knows where wrote, "This song gives me another heart beat.  It is humble perfection."


Tuesday, March 03, 2020

GOP Light

So its Super Tuesday.  I'm currently parked in front of the 'puter, sipping day old coffee, and deciding when I want to head down to the Town Hall to cast my vote. And now that the field has narrowed from a mob to just a crowd, the choices I have will be easier to sort out.  Or not.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the choices are clear to me.  It is either vote for Bernie in an effort to return the Democratic Party to the Left side of the aisle, or vote for one of the Right Wing cookie cutter Democrats still standing.

If Biden wins the nomination and the presidency, the Right will still be in control.  But at least we will be rid of Trump.

Over the last 40 years, mainstream Democrats have been herded and cajoled away from their progressive roots on the Left to a position on the other side of the aisle and are now nothing but a sub group of the Right I call "GOP Light".

No real Democrat would be afraid of Bernie and his Democratic Socialism.  And no real Democratic leader would be working so hard to defeat him.  The party I joined so many years ago is but a bad joke as they toss us nothing but Left leaning lip service, while actually supporting the money grubbers of Wall Street and Big Business by their actions.

Yes, I am angry at the Right for trying to push this country into a Fascist style existence.  But I am angrier at the Democrats for helping them row the boat.

Regardless folks, go out and vote.  It is the least you can do as a citizen.

Later .........................................................................

Monday, March 02, 2020

No Roaches Monday - Smokin or Otherwise

I looked in the basement, the garage, and my office. There were no roaches to be found.  This is Monday ferchrisakes.  How am I to make it through the day without at least one roach to smoke?  That's what happens when a lifelong habit becomes just another SSDD activity that has no thought invested or planning laid out because I have taken said activity for granted all these years.

Habits, good and bad, need nourishing environments for them to prosper into habits we can depend on.  A habit has to first, be recognized, then nurtured from passing fancy into the life support tool we want them to become.  Their negative or positive effects on us only important as the importance we assign them.

If I think a habit has gotten out of control, I will most likely choose to stop said habit.  If I have no problem with it, I go on my merry way, happy as if I had a brain.  And yes, sometimes a habit can become so onerous as to raise concerns of those around me.  I would be lying if I said none of my habits irritated others.  

My childhood tendency to always ask "why" about anything caused my parents no end of frustration.  Their frustration only fed my new habit of how to irritate parents because they deserve it.  I found I could punish them to the third or fourth "Because I said so" before I had to duck and cover.  Wonderful game that lost its luster when I learned around age eight, there are too many answers to the question "why".  If I wanted an answer, I more often than not, had to find it for myself.

But I digress, and I did it right out of the blocks.

A post that  has a designated time and place in my communiques to the World should be experienced as the rules I have written demand.  No roaches around?  Guess I will have to roll up a couple joints and smoke em just so I can smoke a roach or two on Smokin Roaches Monday.

Damn.  Two joints may be too tough to take just to make two roaches.  .... Hmm     Oh well, its more about the effort than the result.  Right?

Keep it 'tween the ditches ............................................

Sunday, March 01, 2020

Hard Train to Stop

Since the creation of Israel in 1948, the US has given them $142.3 Billion dollars ( Non inflation adjusted).  Far and away, the most foreign aid in dollars to any country we did not occupy.  In 2016, the US signed off on a new 10 year, $38 Billion dollar deal.  That is $10.4 Million dollars a day to prop up the 20th richest (GDP) country in the World. 

People contend that Israel and the US share mutual interests.  Don't kid yourself.  On the surface our support may seem altruistic, a help the poor underdog tear jerker.  Our support is nothing more than propping up an authoritarian chief of state, Netanyahu, who we hope by proxy, will help enforce our version of empire on the Mideast.  Apparently it is fine for some here in the US, but count me out.  I have had it with Zionism and all that it entails.

Israel has always had my attention since I was smitten by the 1960 movie "Exodus" that starred Paul Newman.  It was a tale of rag tag Jewish Holocaust refugees of WWll who emigrated to Palestine and wrested control of a chunk of sand away from the Palestinians who were currently living there.

An epic of over 3 hours long, Exodus covered the period leading up to the founding of Israel in 1948.  It is now credited as a major contributor in the rise of Zionism in this country.  As an eight year old, I only saw a great movie that made me feel sorry for those poor Holocaust survivors.  I was swept away by it and became a fan of Israel for years.  They were the good guys.

I had Israel's back for years.  I ignored the propaganda of those folks who found fault with the manner in which Israel carried itself in the Mideast.  They were just a small country doing what was needed to survive while being surrounded by countries who wanted them destroyed. Classic Old Testament David and Goliath stuff.

Israel, with our financing, not only held their own, they actually increased their square footage through trumped up wars as they took more land away from those evil Muslims.  And everyone in the US cheered.  After all, according to some, the Israeli's were just taking back what was theirs to begin with so long ago before the time of Christ.  And though the words were not spoken, the sentiment was Muslims bad, White People good. The Crusades were back with a vengeance.  Only now, Christianity had proxies to fight their war for them.

I eventually became disenchanted with Israel's underdog story and began to view them as the bully, not the oppressed.  For the last 30 years or so, I have wished the US would cut the financial cord.  But once a thing has begun and gathers historical momentum, it is a hard train to stop. 

The US keeps feeding the beast without any real attention being paid to what that beast is up to.  We have done this time after time and continue to do it.  It is time to cut off Israel's bank account.  They can take care of themselves.

Later ......................................
Source for Stats for aid

Source for Richest countries in the World

Monday, February 17, 2020

She Deserves a Safe White Nation - Smokin Roaches Monday

Not sure why this image bothers me so much.  Is it a specific button it punches?  Or is it just the overall disgust I feel when I view it.  So many flash points here, it is tough for me to sort them out.  Regardless, as a white man living in this country, I feel ashamed that idiots of my race insist on restricting their lives and their children's lives to an existence defined by a black or white code.  I guess my main takeaway is that this image hardly helps in making our nation safer.  If anything, it adds to the instability, insecurity, and ingrained prejudices that have always divided us.

 My early military brat years were spent in the protective bubble of a desegregated military world.  I am sure there was racism, but nothing a child of 5 or 6 would notice.  At that age, our experiences come from the Big Picture, not the underlying subtleties of the Real World.

It was in the early 1960's after my father retired from the Air Force and we moved to Tallahassee, Florida that I was rudely brought into the Real World.  I learned Life has a dark ugly side to offset the bright sunny side folks hold near and dear to their hearts.

1963 Tallahassee was a typical segregated southern city of whites and blacks kept apart wherever possible.  I witnessed White on Black violence behind the turned backs of White cops during civil rights marches.  I felt the intense hatred from a crowd in a Black only movie theater I mistakenly walked into.  It was a serious coming of age period.  My education only continued as I grew up in other areas while watching my country transition from Jim Crow to something else.

That "Something Else" was no longer the overt world of Jim Crow and weekly Klan meetings advertised in local gazettes.  Racism had dropped below the Sunny Side's radar where it has been festering for 45-50 years now.  It took Trump to kick the hidden racism into brighter lights with his program of enabling hateful tweets, speeches and rallies.  I guess we should be grateful to Trump for slapping our country with this dose of Reality.  There are Evils out there that will never be conquered.  They will only be beaten back.  And to fall back into a satisfied complacency that the Evil is defeated is just giving  it time to lick its wounds so it can come back stronger and uglier the next time.

Later ....................................................

Image from "From Open White Supremacy to Stealth" 

Thursday, December 05, 2019

Cherished Christian Values

The Evangelical Right has been whining for years about how unfair the Secular World is to them.  Cry me a river.  They enthusiastically endorsed the most evil and amoral politician in years and then expect us to not notice the blatant hypocrisy of that move.  They deserve all the disrespect and derision they get.

Clueless soldiers of God wonder why they are losing faithful participants at such a high rate.  They did this to themselves with their inflexible and nonsensical views that somehow taking us back to the days of the Old Testament will save us, but just in case get ready for the End.  I have no pity nor any respect for them.

Instead of looking inward to the cause of their decline,  they hide behind tired excuses, religious mumbo jumbo and that favorite of favorites, religious persecution.  Bullshit.  Heathens are not to blame.  They, and they only are to blame.  Nothing but a bunch of sanctimonious jerkwads.

All the Secular World wants from them is to stop trying to turn our nation into a Theocracy and become no better than those countries they pretend to hate, because everyone knows the Christian god is the only true god.  Save the Fire and Brimstone for Sunday behind closed doors.  Stop trying to cram it down my throat.

But I guess it was only a matter of time before they were going to meet their new Messiah.  The God Fearing and the God Sneering united in a duality of purposes, both intent on the subjugation of the folks they pretend to care about.  You two deserve each other.

And to think I once considered the Episcopal priesthood as a career.  Damn, I sure dodged a bullet.

Later .................................................

Monday, December 02, 2019

You Can't Fix Evil

When flinging derogatory comments at the  Right Winging side of the political aisle, a favorite go to slogan was, "You can't fix Stupid".  It offered some small satisfaction and closure when dealing with the idiots of the opposition.  Logic certainly was useless as the Right existed and still does in a selfish intractable world devoid of logic and common sense.

I have moved on from the quaint notion, “You can't fix Stupid".  More than 30 years of bruises and blackened eyes trying to bring the Stupid back to the world of objectivity and facts has convinced me that the Stupid of the Right will always be stupid and there is nothing I can do about it.

It is obvious to me that the puppet masters pulling the Right Winging strings of their slack jawed minions know what they are doing.  They know that what they are doing is evil when looked at using universally accepted rules of ethics and moral behavior.  They just do not care as long as they can continue to manipulate the population in the direction that benefits them and those like them.  Using lies to build fear and divisiveness, they have been able to move the USA in any direction they want.

To be fair, there are those on the Left who also try to emulate the Right's evil ways.  Their efforts are Bush League when compared to the Right’s masterful ability to disseminate fantastical lies as facts

I realize I can't fix Stupid. More importantly, It is Evil I cannot fix. I can only oppose it and try to minimize its impact.

Later ..................................................

Saturday, November 30, 2019


So Ray, of that wonderful Yooper couple, Ray and Nan, informed me he is currently trying out Linux instead of his old computer's original operating system.  I am jealous.   The first time I heard of Linux, I was enthralled.  Just figured it would be too tough for a lazy dumass like me to deal with.  And it may be.  We'll see.

It is not that Linux is free.  It is that rumor I have read that it is less likely to suck up viruses, malware, and streaming monsters.  Cheap and reliable in my opinion is the mark of a great tool.

So here I am on Day 1.  I have signed up.  I have read my first tutorial.  And now like I have actually accomplished something, I am bragging about having done nothing more than what amounts to stepping onto the treadmill and admired it without turning it on.

I will keep you posted ....................

Thursday, November 28, 2019


Google has begun to offer up answers to what I assume are the questions asked the most about the specific thing we wanted an answer about.  Four questions that often appear to have been picked out of the internet fog without thyme or reason.  I googled "Thanksgiving".  The first answered question was "What Thanksgiving really means?"  I was not interested in their answer.  I did not open the answer.  Each of us have to answer that for ourselves.

Have a sumptious gathering this day Y'all.

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Dung Beetles

I guess it was when Moscow Meetch was the hot topic a few months back when I decided that he and Senator Lindsey reminded me of Dung Beetles.

An Ass like Trump needs a few guys with shovels and brooms to stay close to his backside to keep the streets free of the mountain of shit he spreads like so much confetti at a Johnny comes marching home parade.

I was reminded of this by Ray, my online Yooper buddy when he posted something on Facebook about Senator Lindsey and spirit animals.  Suddenly it all clicked.  The Right has become a population enthralled with anything related to shit.

 Some of the shit is old shit brought back to use in false narratives and false comparisons.  And when the old shit is not doing it for them, they make up new shit.  Some of the shit they scoop up as it falls from Trump's butt.  And some, like Senators Lindsey and McConnell, roll Trump's shit into little balls to be savored later when they are alone.  Or maybe they are rolling it up to sell at a future date.  One can count on that I suppose, what with money and its possession being ahead of Country, God and the American Way on the Right side of the aisle.  And to be fair, the Left has its share of money first assholes also.

Sadly, my comparison to the noble Dung Beetle seems unfair.  No, it is unfair.  But there it is.  Life is not fair.  And from what I can tell, Dung Beetles do not care.  They only care how big a pile of shit they can roll into their Dung Beetle lairs.  Trump is a lucky man to have these two covering his backside.  Without them, if he turned around to walk back from where he came, he'd trip and possibly hurt himself as he fell face first into his own shit.

Keep up the good work.  Mitch and Graham, you guys rock.  Just take off your overalls and shoes before you come into my house.

Later ..................................................

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

The 1956 Green Pontiac

The green 1956 Pontiac station wagon was a beast. My mom insisted on a big V-8 and a three speed manual transmission on the column . She had to wait an extra 8 weeks to get it. In 1956, every car out of Detroit it seemed came with automatics. My mom would often take me with her to run errands, visit a friend, or just go for a ride. At age four and five, I didn't care why, I just wanted to ride in that car. It was big and it was the first car I remember.

I do not remember ever sitting in the front seat. The reason escapes me now sixty some years later. Was my back seat status voluntary or some parental rule laid down for my safety or their sanity? Whatever the reason, the back seat it seems is where all memories in that car come from.

Mom always made plans for our local trips. Dire warnings to come home clean so we could go here or there always preceded our journeys.  By age four I had definitely developed a keen ability to find and wear any dirt, grease or grass stains within a 10 yard radius of wherever I was at the time.  It is habit I have yet to break. Some trips were canceled in what I assume was retribution for failing to live up to the clean clothes directive. More than once I can remember watching sadly as the green Pontiac disappeared down the driveway going on some grand adventure without me. This never went over well with my brothers either. Me home but without a parent in the house meant I had to be cared for and any stupidity they had planned was ruined and it was my fault. They were after all, aging teenagers who had no interest in caring for a kid brother whose only use in Life was to complicate theirs.

In that station wagon I would sit on my knees so I could look out the side window, the front window, any window I wanted. Back then, seat belts were not on anyone's radar, least of all mine.  But threats of bodily harm from the front seat kept my most rabid activities to a minimum.   And yeah, I can remember well what it felt like to crash face first into the back of the front seat as  Mom avoided a variety of collision catastrophes.

Watching the world zip by at fifty miles an hour just seemed so cool. When it was warm, I would hang my arm out with my hand flat and pretend to be a jet airplane. I would move my arm like a snake and feel the wind pressure change against my hand and arm. I would gaze into the woods and fields daydreaming about being a cowboy on the trail herding cattle, fighting rustlers, or being the Lone Ranger and saving Ole Lady Grigsby's  ranch from the evil land agent and his gang of pony ridin cut throats.

At age four through age eight or nine, the world beyond my house and yard was a wonderful mystery to me.  In the Green Pontiac, some of those mysteries were resolved, while many more teased me from around the next corner or over that horizon.  That 1956 green Pontiac station wagon was my first grand introduction to the wide world waiting for me to make a mess of.

Yeah, I loved that car.