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.

Monday, November 25, 2019

Smokin Joe Biden on Smokin Roaches Monday

I have been awake since 2:30 AM.   Not whinin nor braggin, just letting anyone interested know that I enjoyed a good wake n bake just as the Sun poked its lil head up in the East. I had 3 1/2 hours to think about the pros and cons.  I decided the pros outranked the cons.  Attitude adjustments should always be on the table.  Retirement definitely has its perks.

I have been waffling of late over which stellar Democratic candidate I would like to see in the White House instead of Putin's Bitch.  There are so many choices, it is hard for me to nail down one contender who makes me wet like Obama did.   In 2016, Hillary certainly did not make me swoon. But I voted for her because, well, I knew we would be in a world of hurt should The Donald take the helm.  As it turns out he is actually worse than any nightmare scenario I came up with prior to his election.  But I am getting off track ..........

So here I am trying to whittle the Democratic field of candidates down to a more manageable number, say down to two or three with Good ole Joe Biden as the default.  The prime objective for the 2020 election for me is to replace Trump and as many Republicans as possible.  They are nothing now but a gang of chimpanzees hatefully flinging their shit around.  Any notion of legislating and leading from the Right has disappeared completely.  In its place is the new-ish GOP doctrine of just say No, while whining like spoiled little brats.

I decided Mayor Pete was my current favorite after earmarking him six or so months ago as someone to watch..  There was and is no second place yet, but there is always Joe.  Good Ole Reliable Joe Biden had my back.  He would bring some class and ethics back to the Executive Branch.

Hmm........... A couple of months ago I noticed Joe didn't seem to have much spark.  Sure he was and is reliable and way more capable than the current POTUS.  But I was not as enthralled as I had been.  And then just, what, last week or so ago, he said in a speech that he would not support legalizing Pot because he was pretty sure it was a gateway drug.  Just "Pretty Sure Joe?

Good Ole reliable Joe Biden is now not even on my list.  He finally blew it for me.  Never mind that the whole "gateway drug" scenario is Bullshit anyway, his behind the times stance on almost anything keeps him from even entertaining the least progressive currents now gaining momentum on the Left.  It is time for Democrats to stop being afraid of the Right.

As the Right careens headlong towards its lunatic fringes, the Left should step off the fence and counter the Right by embracing more of the basic liberalism the Left used to stand for.

Remember ............. Let's work hard to Dump the Right in 2020.  They deserve a good spanking ...... No, they need a good spanking.

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

Sunday, November 24, 2019

OK Boomer

So, I just finished stomping on some Millennial's sensitive parts.  Didn't mean to, just voicing my opinion.  Matter of fact, I just now received a Facebook icon in the corner of my computer screen telling me he replied again.  Damn kid is wearing me out.

So anyway, today's encounter with the harsh judgement of another combined with my post yesterday on FB regarding my White Privilege and suddenly I found something to blog about.

It is very rare for me to even take note of pissing anyone off on the intertubes.  But the total breakdown of communication between myself and this young man brought the differences between generations into stark contrast.  It was when he started out one comment, "OK Boomer', that I realized what we had here was someone with a generational ax to grind.

I tried not to get sucked into the generational thing.  And upon reviewing my responses, other than calling him "Junior" once, I did a fair job of staying with my point.  In fairness, he did also.  But he had laid the foundation of a Boomer facing that which they had a part in creating.  And he exuded an attitude of resenting me for it.

What it appears we both did was steadfastly decide to not understand each other.  And that's okay, its what generations do to each other.

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

Wednesday, August 07, 2019

Unintentional Fake News

I was reading the Google news feed on my phone this morning and a story about the 30-50 pro assault gun meme popped up.  Apparently a fellow from the South who owns some property asked how was he supposed to shoot 30 -50 feral hogs that run into his yard in 3 to 5 minutes without an assault weapon.  He was inferring the danger to his children.  The article from "Slate" went on to agree he had a point.

Now this is where I do the predictable thing and talk about how his argument is stupid, great, or something in between.  No, I won't do that.  It is the background of this story handed to us as factually based I have a problem with.

Once the purpose of the article was solidly in place, a brief history of feral hogs unfolded, giving us their past and their present and the doom and gloom if their populations are not put in check.

One claim in particular caused me to check its accuracy.  "Now, 48 states have reported the animals’ presence..........." 

I had not heard of any feral hog sightings in Maine, and having actually followed the rise of the feral hog problem in previous years, I understood the problem to be one mostly located in the Sun Belt and not up in the frozen outback states nestled next to Canada.

 I jumped all over it and googled faster than you could say "Google It".  The first article that popped up was from a local paper, "The Portland Press Herald".  They claimed Maine has no feral hog issue as there are no feral hogs that have encroached into Maine. According to the article feral hogs only inhabit 39 states.

Fast forward now to my second Google.  An article in the "Central Maine Sentinel" told the story of a Russian boar killed in Somerset County in the yard of a very surprised farmer.  Officials were sure it was not born in Maine and it did not travel this far from another state.  It was most likely one that had escaped a state licensed game preserve.

So what is my conclusion in all this?  The people who write and deliver the news need to be especially careful now days to frame their stories in a way that does not give the wrong impressions.  In other words, report the facts that are not up for interpretation.  And if the facts are up for interpretation, say that.

Fake news is fake news even when it is unintentional.

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

Monday, August 05, 2019

Smoking Roaches Monday - Maggie and Sammie

Its been a beautiful morning here on Sam Page Road.  Sun's out, 60 degrees or so and the humidity feels almost non-existent.  I took my dynamic duo, Maggie and Sammie, for some leg stretching over to Mary's Woods across from my place.  Sammie is on loan from my daughter and her SO while they are off gallivanting who knows where.  I don't remember gallivanting so much as they are at their age.  But that is to be expected.  There is a lot I don't remember from 35 years ago.

Once safely cross Sam Page Road, I released both.  Maggie took off into the pucker and Sammie waited patiently for me to throw the Chuckit.  When I Chuckit, Sammie will fetch it at full tilt boogie until he can't run anymore.  His chest heaving hard, he finally collapses at my feet.  The ball from the last Chuckit firmly clamped between intimidating teeth that refuse release until , well, its been 30 minutes since we came back, and that damn ball is still in his mouth. A single minded mutt for sure. He loves his Chuckit.

Like me, Maggie does not understand the concept of Chuckit.  She watches Sammie run himself to exhaustion chasing a stupid ball.

"What a brain dead dog he is", she mutters to herself.  Maggie knows real fun.  She runs and runs, just to run until her eyes cross and her tongue is hanging out with her dog spit tricklin hard off the tip.

Sammie looks at her and thinks, "What a dumb mutt.  She runs and runs and gets nothin done.  Me, I at least bring the ball back every time, never fail, you can depend on me yes-sir-ree-Bob's your uncle."

Anyway, have a great Monday.  Just don't burn your fingers.

Sunday, August 04, 2019

The Right is to Blame

Two mass shootings in less than 24 hours.  Think about that for moment. ....................

According to Mother Jones, there have been 113 mass shootings or killing sprees in the States since 1982.  We can now add another two incidents and 29 more fatalities to the 1035 people killed since the early 1980s.

Some folks may try to minimize the effect of 1064 people killed in 37 years as a price of a free and armed society.  .......... Bullshit.    Others might counter that mass killings only happen a few times a year.  Again Bullshit.

The pace of mass shooting incidents has definitely picked up since 2016. In the 34 years prior to 2016, 78 incidents left 749 people dead.  That is about 2.3 incidents a year.  Since 2016 we have had 37 incidents with 325 people dead.  That works out to in an almost 4 year period, about 9.2 incidents a year.  And the pace is actually higher in the last two years.

What is the one common denominator that might explain this outrageous increase in mass shootings over the last four years?  I would conclude it was the poisonous political and social atmosphere Donald Trump pumped up to a boil when he disrespected the country with his presence.

And instead of helping to rein in this pitiful excuse for a national leader, his party, the GOP, sit on their hands, look down at their feet, or actually root this asshole on.  And the Right claims to know a patriot when they see one.  They haven't had that ability since the Rich took over the party in the late 1800s.

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