Saturday, December 31, 2011


On a day as dreary as today and given its somewhat noteworthy position near the edge of the year,  I should have been reflecting on past mistakes, future endeavors, or at the least contemplating my naval.  Instead, I chose to attempt one more time to do two things that have been consistent in their refusal to bend to my will.

It all started with Twitter.  I have had a Twitter account I guess for a couple of years now.  In that time I have tweeted twice, have 4 followers, and I am supposedly following two others.  Obviously I have not gotten into the Tweeting thing.  Either that, or my existence on this planet is much sadder than even I thought it was.    So this morning I decided I would take one more hesitant step into the 21st century and figure out how Twitter works.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

A Spirit Driven Interlude

Words pour free as Guinness draft at an Irish wake.  Some words, phrases , crusts of thought savored harsh and slow.  Others tossed back quick. The writer sits hunched, crunched and through slitted eyes manages to make some sense.  His story slowly taking form, not a word he wasted.  No back tracking, he never second guessed.

A grand tale of love, heartbreak and sorrow spreads its wings.  Author, author why do you hesitate?  Is the moment so precious or is that a tear in your eye? 

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Life in the Slow Lane

I get so wrapped up in the silly details of my life sometimes, I don't notice the little things, the small events and efforts made by others that make my part of the world so special to me.  Today rather than put my nose to the grindstone here at the bike shop, I pulled one of my classic "Here physically, but not in spirit" routines.  I searched the local sites for news worth reporting to the larger world outside my small corner of Maine.

Predictably newsworthy events that might cause waves elsewhere were in short supply.  We locals tend to go about our business, go home, and cuddle up to Jeopardy or ESPN with a cool drink or maybe some local herb of the smoking kind.  We mind our own business for the most part and expect others to do the same..  Southern Maine is not a hotbed of controversy or extravagance.  If one is under 30 and single, life here is boooooring.  If one is married with children, it is still booooring but a much saner and safe environment than many other locales I can think of.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Another Christmas Tale - T 10 - Capstone

James knew today would be different the moment he opened his eyes and stared up at the cardboard ceiling of the box he had called home the last few days.  James did not dwell on the occasional and inconsequential buzzing of the what might bee's. Existence and survival depended on more mundane matters.  Scavenging a meal and hitting tourists up for enough change to score a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 sweet wine were his daily concerns. The feeling something new was headed his way faded before he crawled out of that appliance box.

James began his daily schlep over to the Salvation Army kitchen up on Congress St.  The sensation something was out of sync returned just as he turned up Front St and onto it’s ancient cobblestones Portland kept in place for the atmosphere they added to the city's Old Salt working waterfront motif.  Down on Commercial Ave. the fish houses were opening their doors hoping  to off load big catches  for the fish mongers to filet..

Friday, December 23, 2011

The Missed Anniversary

 Last week I remembered  that my 7th year anniversary with this blog was coming up.  I thought it might be nice to write a post on that date making note of the auspicious occasion.  As I am the only one in charge of keeping track, it is so very typical that I blew it.  I have regularly forgotten more important dates than this one.  My wife's birthday comes to mind. Two years in a row I blew it.  The second one is still brought up as ammo by her when she needs to take me down a peg or two.  My daughter's birthday, more than a few wedding anniversaries and even my own birthday several times have been lost in the clutter I call my mind.  Unless someone mentions I missed them, I often do not notice for a week at least.

But over the last couple of years my track record has improved.  Wishing to keep up the good work, if only to satisfy myself, I checked my archived posts and I could have sworn the 7th anniversary fell on December 23.  All week I had planned to say a few words and maybe have a shot of Ezra Brooks to celebrate.............................Well I'll still have the shot.  I'm due anyway.

The Tea Party Mentality

Growing up in a politically aware conservative family, I was taught to consider the Left a bunch of loose dog lunatics who had no cohesive message.  According to family elders, the Left was comprised (Now this was in the 1960s) of commies, anarchists, and racists (Dixiecrats).  While the Right was a more gentile civilized group who honored loyalty and unified effort.  The Right wore suits from Brooks Brothers and hung out in board rooms, country clubs, and the many yacht basins found on both coasts.  The Left existed in the ghettos, the mills, and dark dirty dives where they  conjured up their traitorous mischief over bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. The lines were clearly drawn,  Everyone it seemed was happy with this arrangement.

Then the Negroes finally found a unified voice and began loudly complaining about their station in Life.  Their efforts to that point had been erratic, hit or miss, no real leader had consolidated their message.  Martin Luther King and his coalition of bright angry blacks declared the current delusion of quiet peace and tranquility I call "Father Knows Best Era , Chapter One", was not going to continue.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Two BoZones Are Better Than One

I recently decided to make use of one of the blogs I created quite awhile ago.  It is Lost in the BoZone, The Other Dimension.  I created it solely to own the Name "Lost in the BoZone" on Blogger.  This "Lost in the BoZone" is actually HTTP-ed "The File Cabinet".  I changed the name almost immediately after coming up with "The File Cabinet"  I then posted to it for 4 years before I decided to claim the name I was using by registering it with Blogger.  Rather than swap everything over because I'm a lazy bastard at heart, I just let the new BoZone sit and gather dust while I continued to poison the Internets from The original BoZone.  It's all damn confusing and it really does not matter.  The point is I now plan to utilize "BoZone , the other dimension" to hold my fiction.  Specifically the longer fiction.  I will continue to use this blog for most of my posting.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Can Kicking and Stupid Women

Michelle Bachmann was asked this morning on NBC's Today Show why she was in Iowa instead of doing her job in Congress fighting the good fight against Obama and those evil Democrats over  the temporary extension of the payroll tax cuts.  Her reply was telling and so typical of the current mindset of the Right.

She blamed Obama for Congress not doing its job.  Yet she is wasting time running around Iowa instead of doing the job she is getting paid for.  She said and I paraphrase, "Why go back to DC when it won't do any good?" Right Michelle, that's the spirit.  Getting votes is so much more important than actually governing.

Who created the impasse now crippling Congress?  In my view and I suspect the view of a growing number of Americans is that the Republicans are seen as the problem.   Obama has backtracked so much trying to coddle the  stupidly stubborn Republicans acting like two year olds, he is looking more like a conservative than the liberal he has been labled by the right.  Boehner has lost control and the dumasses of the Right have the party by the balls.

Sure the two month extension is just kicking the can down the road.  But because her and her bonehead party have created this stalemate regarding a more permanent solution, the can once again absolutely needs to be kicked down the road.  If the extension does not go through, it will hurt her party much more than it will hurt Obama or the Democrats.


Monday, December 19, 2011

How Congress Works Today

Rapidly changing events unfold  with such speed, by the time unintended consequences rear their ugly little heads, the unfolding events have moved on to other events emerging faster than the consequences can keep pace.  Negative results begin to logjam, becoming entwined and more complicated as they fuse together out of sight until eventually events not even on anyone's radar force them to panic mode and they back pedal in often fruitless effort to address what has already happened,  thereby weakening their readiness to deal with the next catastrophe on the horizon.  

Instead of stepping back to take the broader view, and spend a few minutes catching their breath, they quickly look to their respective ideologies for excuses rather than allowing time for common sense to seep to the top.  Distracted and fooled into thinking all of these unfolding events are not inter-connected, they address each as individuals rather than as the mob that has really shown up at their door.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

The Best Fight Ever

So I'm abusing the Hell out of google last night and searching out information or images on anything that pops into my mind.  Yeah I know.  Get a life or something close, but what the hell, it beat sitting numb and dumb in front of the tube.

I google my name.  I google my brothers names.  I google my mom's name, Hell I go through the family one member at a time.  Nothing new really.  Then I googled "Charlotte Hall, images".  Jack pot.  I am looking at images, old and new, of the area that was named after the military school I attended in southern Maryland back in the 1960s.  There are few school buildings standing now.  They were in tough shape when I went there.  After the school closed about 1976, they fell into disrepair and most were razed when the property was turned into a Veteran's home.

One of the buildings still there has been restored and is apparently one of the finest examples of American Gothic architecture in the state of Maryland.  When I had to use it, it was just a church.  It is called the Dent Memorial Chapel.  It was built in 1884.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Pro-Life vs Pro-Choice

The article that fired me upFrom Right Wing Watch

First some history to tie this post in with my own past.

My girlfriend my freshman year in college (1970/71) became pregnant.  I won't go into the nuts and bolts of her decision to abort, but let's just say, I chose to support her decision, no matter what she came up with.  It was my first exposure to the world of  Planned Parenthood.   At that time the Feds had yet to weigh in on the controversy of abortion on demand.  It was still in the hands of the individual states.  Roe v Wade would not happen until 1973.  Maryland was a state that allowed abortion.   

Friday, December 16, 2011

Who Runs the GOP?

I was sure the GOP was on a steep downhill trend back in the 1980s.  I figured it would hit bottom sooner or later and they would begin to show signs of sanity again.  I guess I need to have more patience. But let's face it, thirty years is an awfully long time to watch a party continue to fall.  Maybe there is no bottom because they are hard into a an ideological free fall into a pit with no bottom.  Maybe it is the proverbial corner and being painted into it by their own rigid set of ideals.  Whatever it is, the GOP have definitely become slaves to an unrealistic agenda and are now tools of fringe ideologues whose oars only intermittently hit the water in smooth strokes.  Those intermittent strokes of sanity seem to be less frequent each day the presidential election inches closer.  Their panic boldly displayed as they have begun to turn on themselves in ugly public displays more common among bickering Democrats.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

The Drudge Retort Report

I have been under the weather these past few days.  I missed quite a bit of what is happening out there in the big world.  So I punched up the Drudge Retort - The site set up to counter the Drudge Report.  The headlines are always written to catch the eye and several did.

Chris Wallace contends that should Ron Paul win the Iowa Caucus, it is not a victory for Paul, but a defeat for the Iowa Caucus.   Hmm.  Ron Paul gets no respect even when he polls with serious numbers.  I hope he runs a Ralph Nader style candidacy. 

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Where's the White People?

I ran across the video below over to Reality Zone.  It is a report on the current state of affairs in Motown.  What struck me while viewing it was not the financial trouble Detroit is having.  That has been an ongoing problem for like forever.  It was the video itself.

The news voice, a pleasant sounding woman with a Brit accent, tells us the population back in the hey day of American dominance in the auto industry was around two million.  Factories churned out cars, mills baked and bent metal, and Detroit existed happily as a show piece of American economic power.

Friday, December 09, 2011


People love labels.  We humans seem to want to label everything.  We put labels on clothes, on pillows, on ourselves and on other people.  We do not seem to care if the labels we assign ourselves or each other fit into the definition of what that label originally meant.  We do not seem to care what someone else labels themselves if we have decided on a label for them we like instead.  You are not a Conservative, you are a Fascist.  You are not a Liberal, you are a Communist or maybe a socialist.  Seems those two have become unfairly and inextricably entwined with each other because like our joy at mixing metaphors, we just love mixing labels.

Thursday, December 08, 2011

Religious Freedom

So yesterday I blogged my disdain for those who would inject specific  "traditional values" into our lives whether we wanted them or not.  Again I feel the need to offer up some kind of counter to my previous post.  Neither side of this debate is guilt free when it comes to wanting to shove their values down our throat.

The Tim Tebow hoopla.  I don't care one way or the other about Tim Tebow.  I wish him well unless he is playing my Pats, then the gloves are off.  But I have no opinion of him wearing his faith on his sleeves, under his eyes or his tendency to drop to bended knee and thank the almighty for that touchdown pass.  He has the right to do so, period.

Wednesday, December 07, 2011

Traditional Values

Tom Harper over to "Who Hijacked Our Country" wrote a post about Obama and his Presidential condemnation of world wide gay discrimination.  Pop over to see what it's all about.  I have another bone to pick regarding something I read in his post.

The catch phrases used by one side to beat down the other side get very old after awhile.  I would think the firebrands would hire someone to freshen up the rhetoric.  Of course the political suitors have no regard for the intelligence of their audience.  The audience apparently does not mind.  So why should I whine about it?  I guess it is because every time I hear certain words in certain combinations over and over again I get a little irritated which can, if I am exposed too many times within a short enough period of time, make me go slightly bonkers and rip off a rant here instead of stomping out back to my neighbor's house with my chainsaw to cut down that damn 40 foot cross he erected to let everyone know he is a God fearing man.

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

The Haunted House

A man of means and importance dies unjustly and what happens?  Legends begin, lies become facts, and things start bumping around in the night.

Many ghost stories we read about are the creations of writers who wish to entertain us through fictional renderings of the terrors we all think up from time to time. But many ghost stories are born from factual events. 

Such is the case of a Great great great great , not sure how many greats - Grandfather of mine.  He was legally hanged on trumped up charges in 1788 and not long after locals began to claim his ghost still wandered the family home he had built.  It is a real house that once had a husband, a wife and 12 children pass in and out on a daily basis. Eventually though, the saga of John Roberts lll overwhelmed it's reality and it joined the ranks of local legend in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania, a suburb of Philadelphia.

Monday, December 05, 2011

The Traitor or "Respublica v. John Roberts" - A diifferent perspective - Kinda

First of all I would have rather been related to John Roberts, the pirate.  And I guess it is possible there is a connection.  He came from Wales and my family on that side came from Wales at the same time he was an up and coming Pirate of fame and ill repute.  Apparently there were too many Roberts in Wales.  It must have been damn confusing.

Instead of the pirate I have to settle for having a traitor to the Revolution in my past.  Hardly as romantic as being related to a pirate who dies with his sword in hand and veins in his teeth.  But then my relative was hanged*. That's kinda cool.  It is also very cool that according to one historian, Williard Sterne Randall, it was the trial of John Roberts that caused Benedict Arnold to go public with his opposition to the radical Whigs and their lust to go after Tories.  Had he not publicly supported clemency for the Loyalists, his name may never have been inextricably entwined with the word "traitor". 

Sunday, December 04, 2011

The Traitor

Rummaging around my ancestral past has gotten very interesting.

My middle name will now be a constant reminder of my relationship to a traitor in my past.  My middle name will also  remind me that Life is not fair, it never has been, nor will it ever be.....fair.   Life is a crap shoot and no matter how covered we think our asses are, events can combine to ruin anyone's day.

Of course like so many tales from 235 years ago, the truth or facts are often muddled as they  pass down from one family member to another.  But the facts of this story are indisputable. Only the reasons are muddled and mysterious.  It is a fact  that 3 signers of the Declaration of Independence tried to get his death sentence commuted.  And some years after he was hanged until dead, his wife had what property that had not been sold or redistributed returned to her and she was provided with a small pension courtesy of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.  I assume this was the government's way of saying, "Oops, we screwed up.  Sorry about that."

This part of my journey into the family past began with the picture above.  It is photograph of a pen & ink drawing one of my forebears, Charles Hamlet Roberts drew of the Roberts Mill near Philadelphia.  He drew it at age 17.  Kid had some talent.

I grew up with this picture hanging prominently in whatever house we lived in.  It now hangs in mine.  Hanging on each side of it are photos of my  Great Grandfather Spencer Roberts and my Great Grandmother Elisabeth Taylor Roberts.  From what I can gather, Spencer might be the traitor's grandson.  I have not been able to fill in the void of about 60 years between Spencer and the traitor.  But Spencer ran the Mill, a strong indication of direct lineage.

I googled "Roberts Mill, Pennsylvania".  One link lead to another, lead to another until I eventually found the following story.

In yesterday's post, I mentioned that one set of ancestors, the Spencers, had set up shop in America in the mid 1600's.  The Roberts also settled here in the 1600s.  1682 or 83 to narrow it down.  John Roberts left Wales and acquired a sizable piece of land directly from William Penn who essentially owned Pennsylvania at the time.  Penn was a well to do Englishman and a Quaker.  He envisioned creating a Quaker paradise out of the sight and mind of the intolerant attitudes and laws of England.   Religious freedom it seems is what brought the Roberts to this country.  Making money was what brought the Spencers.  Regardless, both  considered America as their way to a better life.

John Roberts built the second grist mill  to be erected in Pennsylvania.  Once he had it running, he built a solid business through hard work at the mill and farming his rather large land holding.  He had one son, John Roberts ll who took over when he died.  John the Second was not a healthy man.  Less than a year after he married, he died.  Four months later John Roberts lll was born

John Roberts lll was the prosperous one..  Under his stewardship, the family business blossomed.  He acquired more land, more mills, farmed more land, ground more grain, milled more lumber, and the Roberts became one of the wealthiest families in Pennsylvania at that time.  Naturally success like that created frictions with neighbors, competitors, and any number of people who would covet what John lll had built.  Add in the fact that he was a Quaker and it follows that he might have made enemies.

During this time of business expansion, the Colonists were becoming more dissatisfied with what many considered the overbearing control of the King of England.  They revolted.  Everyone knows or should have an inkling about this war.  If not, then go back to school ferchrisakes.  Many of the Quakers tried to stay out of the fray as a main tenet of their religion was refusal to participate in war..  They were anti-slavery, did not believe in drinking alcohol, and swearing oaths was out of the question.

John lll was fed up with marauding British and Colonial armies sweeping through his area and taking what they wanted.  I am guessing being a businessman, he figured they ought to pay for what they took.  So he heads to British controlled Philadelphia and petitions the commander there to ante up or stop taking his shit.  He was pressed into service by the British and forced to guide some of their patrols as they went on foraging missions.  He did not volunteer and was released from their custody when the British left Philadelphia.

The British finally surrendered at Yorktown, went home to England leaving a mess behind for the Colonists to make sense of.  The tumultuous period right after the Revolutionary War was full of sleaze bags among the new Americans taking advantage of their own.  John Roberts was accused of being a Tory by a man he had had a land dispute with.  He was arrested in a sweep that rounded up over a hundred people.  Only he and one other man were actually held for trial.  I am not sure about the other guy, but my namesake was hanged on November 4, 1788.  Hanged even though almost a thousand people had signed clemency petitions including American military officers and three signers of the Declaration of Independence.

Immediately after he died, much of his confiscated land and properties were sold secretly to several of his "competitors" from the same area.  Eventually some of it was returned to his widow  in 1792 along with a small pension to help carry her through to her death.

And this is what I learned yesterday about my family in between  bike tune ups and phone calls on a typical off season Saturday screwing the pooch.  The Internet is really a great tool for a fool like me.

More to come................................................

Saturday, December 03, 2011

Lost Treasure

Maybe it is that I am no longer young and numb, having worn out the young leaving just the numb. Maybe it is because I find myself less connected to the Present world as it spins by me.  Or maybe it is because two people, one on the west coast and one on the east coast independently contacted me within two weeks of each other.  Both were inquiring about my family's past.  Regardless, I find myself becoming fascinated by the chain of events and people who participated in them creating the flow of history that has me playing a bit part here in Maine some 350 years later.

First it was my cousin on my mom's side.  I opened my email one morning and there was "" notifying me that I had been added to a family tree - the Faulkners of San Francisco.  I located my cousin whom I had not seen for over 25 years and set him straight on a couple of family miscues on the tree.  He had my grandfather right on my father's side but not my grandmother.  He also had questions regarding what I might know about the Faulkners as passed down from my mom.  Unfortunately, I had precious little as it turned out.

Then yesterday, a journalism student from Pennsylvania contacted me through the Acton Library.  She was researching my grandfather, Dr. Robert Shuter Macrum of Sewickley, PA who had died in 1913 at the age of 45.  A professor had taken her class to a cemetery in Germantown, PA and told them to pick a headstone and do a biography.  She picked my grandfather's.  Again I was not of much help other than supplying her with some images and a few kernels of history I had managed to collect by just being around family gatherings at the right time.  I actually learned more from her than she did from me.

It appears that one branch of my family has been here since the mid 1600s and were original lessees of land from William Penn.  It also appears I have noble Brit blood flowing in my veins and she found a history dating back to the 1000's.  That's 1000 years ago.  My mind is blown now.

I found out  two of my ancestors died in the Neshaminy Flood of 1683 that swept through Bucks County, PA.  Their two sons, having been orphaned, were sent back to Barbados to live with relatives until they came of age.  One at least returned to try and reclaim his family's land.  He had two sons and died in 1705 in or around Philadelphia.  He bequeathed his two sons the princely sum of 20 pounds apiece once they reached the age of 21.  They had a long wait.  They were about ages 4 and 6 when he died.  Apparently he was a merchant of some kind as the rest of his will was about dispensing with a barrel of rum, some bolts of cloth, beads and other valuable commodities of that era.

I am now bitten with a new quest.  We'll see if I have it in me to chase down more of the history of my family.  I supposedly have connections to the very area I live in now through my mom's family.  It will be interesting to look into.


Friday, December 02, 2011

Crotch Face Revisits Blogging Etiquette

I figured it was time to reaquant myself bone up again on the current do's and don'ts of blogging just to see if anything had changed.  I googled "Blogging Etiquette" and surprise, surprise, it is still a go to subject when one has nothing else to write about.  Not that I have nothing else to write about.  Other folks have nothing to write about.  Me, well, I can pretty much write about anything, even crap I know nothing about.  Like Blogging Etiquette fer instance.

Of the 4.6 million hits that pertained to or mentioned Blogging Etiquette, I visited I guess maybe 5.  More than enough to realize that change has happened but nothing really new other than the good form one should practice when Facebook Liking, Tweeting, RSS-ing, and using permalinks.  Nothing to do with me I thought.  I don't tweet,  I don't like Facebook, and what the Hell is RSS and permalinks anyway?  If I don't know about them, they must not be a problem.

I only began this investigation after once more fielding some wonderful comments on my timeless post "Wingers with Woodies", the post that keeps on giving.  Apparently some of my recent visitors to that post have not read or maybe comprehended some of the basic rules of civilized interactions  we bloggers of experience have come to take for granted. 

If the basic rules I just re-read are to be followed, it is bad form to call the writer of the post a "Crotch Face" or "Mac-scum", or one of my favorites, "Idiot".   As I don't mind being called anything, I understand that many people out there get all flustered when being assaulted with abusive language.  So when I visit someone's blog, I do try to fit in with the ongoing atmosphere.  If it is a no holds barred blog, I hold no bars.  If it is a polite, don't want to piss anyone off blog, I keep my ever ready nasty comments to myself.  With this in mind, I have to say that no one who made derogatory comments on the Winger post was out of line.  I started it and deserved every comment I received.  I can swim with scum or dance with the civilized folk.  And based on my profile picture, I can understand someone confusing my face for a crotch.  And as to being an Idiot, well, I proudly go where smarter men fear to tread.

With all this information and data sifted, collated, and parked in the right spots, I continued my investigation into what polite bloggers do.  I especially liked the one hint - "Do not be afraid to delete a derogatory comment.  It is your blog and a derogatory comment can often undermine the conversation from more on topic comments."

"Hmm", I thought and looked at the ceiling.  I noticed one of the ceiling tiles was cracked and uh, oh where was I?  Oh Yeah, "Hmm", I thought.  "It is indeed my blog.  I can do anything I want."  I choose to leave the nasty comments because they point up just how insane people get when one of their heroes is slighted.  If I am going to post obnoxious posts, I should be stand up and publish obnoxious comments also.  To only let the choir sing would be dishonest.  If I pissed someone off then I should let everyone know it.  It's the least I can do.

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

Thursday, December 01, 2011

Anonymous Said

Below is a comment posted to my "Winger With Woodies" post yesterday.  I wrote the post almost 2 years ago.  I liked this comment so much, I thought I would share.  The comment is not even close to being on topic.  But I assume whoever wrote this feels much better now.  I live to serve.

"How do you know a liberal is lying? Answer - when their lips are moving! Those on the left have no class, none, nada, zip. Your blog is just another pile of garbage designed to appeal to the senseless mob. You are in a word - pathetic.

Dana Perino has more class in one strand of her blonde hair than you and those like you could ever hope to accumulate in your pathetic lifetimes.

Ugh, you all make me so sick. WHy don't you all fly down to Cuba and hang out with your fellow leftists. While you're there, check out the poverty, the homelessness, the depravity, and the helplessness. That's what the left would like to bring to the USA. While you're there, check out the void between the have's and the have-not's in Cuba. You bitch and whine about income gaps between the rich and the middle class here, wait til you get a load of the divide in your commie mate's backyard.

Food for thought, loser. While I will readily condemn you for your ignorance, Dana Perino never will. She has too much stuff for the likes of you. You don't deserve her benefit of the doubt."

How should I react to this?  I mean, how should I respond once I stop laughing.  This person was obviously serious.  And if not, they did a damn fine job of imitating the "Free Republic" Freeper persona.  I used to dice it out with mental giants like this back in the day of newsgroups in the 1990s.  Any thin skin I may have still had was beefed up by that experience.

So is snarky and sarcastic the way to go?  Or do I treat this comment seriously and address the specific complaints and accusations?  Or maybe I should point out the fact that the comment has absolutely nothing to do with my post?  Hmm.  What to do?  If nothing else I should thank them for giving me something to post today.

I'll come up with something.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

A Great Man's Downfall

I think I have finally figured it out.  It had been bothering me for quite awhile.  But after stumbling upon the photo to the Right, the pieces began to fall into place.

First some background.............

He was raised to be a good Conservative in a family whose Conservative values stretched back through the years more than a few generations.  His family affluence provided him with the nurturing atmosphere of privilege and he wanted for nothing.  All that was expected of him was to go forth into the World and do his best to, as historian Gregory Schneider put it, "Defend Western civilization from the challenges of modernist culture and totalitarian governments".

He went to all the right schools, met all the right people (Conservatives of course), married, had children, and proceeded to find his place in the World.  It was determined fairly early on he had no nose for business.  What else was there for a good Conservative to put his mind to but politics.  After all, the way had been paved by his family and their years long involvement in National politics.

He started out small in a big state.  His success there impressed the movers and shakers entrusted with bringing America back to its roots of God fearing Conservatism.  They saw in him a chance to turn around 8 years of Liberal sabotage at the hands of a semi pink philanderer.  They pushed him, prodded him and through creative vote counting courtesy of his brother,  managed to place him at the helm of the USS America.  May God shed his light on thee.

So what happened?  Why, with all the pedigree, all the support, all the connections, did this once fine Conservative become a pariah in his own movement?   Instead of decreasing the size of government, he allowed it to grow.  Instead of pinching pennies and keeping the deficit under control, he invaded other countries and spent money like a good Democrat.  Oh he tried to keep up appearances by appearing somewhat dim and disconnected like many of his peers seem to love.  But something had happened behind the scenes.  Some insidious moment, some Left Wing influence, some evil from the progressive side had infiltrated his soul.

When I came upon the above photo, I figured it out.  He was seduced by one of the darker evils from the Left.   He became an avid cyclist.   He didn't just ride a bike for the positive polling a kodak moment on a bike might bring.  The man fell in love with riding a bike.  And to make matters worse, he did not stop at the almost okay anal retentive roadie stage, like so many of his peers seemed to think was acceptable.  He became a mountain biker.  A type of cycling whose roots go directly to the hippie dippy pot smoking whackoes of Marin County in California.  It is a known fact that all mountain bikers either smoke pot and think war is stupid, or they have smoked pot in the past and don't mind if others do.  Even if they support war now, at one time, they did not.  In other words, mountain bikers embody the worse kind of Liberalism - Live and let live.  They have been known to get drunk or stoned and ride naked.  They will often pull off the trail to share a doob and a clif bar.  They use terms right out of the 1960s and 70s - Dude, Stoked, Gnarly - all words of subversion, every one.

So folks and whoever else might catch this,  please find in your hearts some compassion for this man.  What he thought was but an innocent diversion and healthy activity was actually a commie conspiracy to undermine his efforts to turn back the clock to when America was greater than even it thought it was.  Forgive him his fall from grace and understand now how sneaky those Liberals really are.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Another Grey Morning in Maine

With so many bummer categories and incidents of human stupidity fighting for my attention, I just could not choose a single one to get pissed about this morning.  I decided I would not get pissed.  Instead I ripped and burned some music from my daughters old computer which I am using while my steroid infused electronic personal assistant is in rehab. 

My daughter used this computer during her Grad school days at UNC.   Once out of UNC, she delegated it to the parental warehouse here in Acton.  Her laptop and Ipod became her conduit to the World.  So I sit here occasionally looking out into the grey morning and listen to music I am not familar with.  I gave up trying to weed through the music for music I might like.  I just picked something, ripped it, burned it, and put off any decision regarding quality for a later date.   I have always operated on the idea that there is no such thing as bad music.  Music is either music I like or music I don't.  And even if I don't like it, I respect it enough to include it in my collection.  I never know when the urge to listen to Tammy Wynette or maybe Guy Lombardo might swing by.

Right now I am listening to Incubus.  Specifically the album "Morning View".  Very nice.  Seems to fit the greyness that has enveloped Acton, Maine this day.  But then a grey morning is always a good music day.  The right tune can make the grey go away or turn it black.  All depends what one might be looking for. 

Bright sunny days on the other hand place more specific demands on the music I pick.  I have to be in a very shitty mood to punch up Morrisey or some of his Life sucks musical brethren on a bright sunny day.  My favorite bright sunny tune ever is Delibes' ballet, "Sylvia".  Unfortuinately I do not have it on disc.  All I have are the memories of what the overture did to the hairs on my neck, to the guts inside me, to the energy source that makes me me.  It has been at least a couple of years since I placed it on the old turntable and played it.  I will have to score a good orchestral rendition on CD.

So this is my day so far.  Sitting here tuned in to music I do not know and trying to put off facing the rest of the day.  To that end, I have searched out the Overture on the Internet.  Once more, Good can still be found out there when one takes the time to look for it.


And then this..................

Sunday, November 27, 2011

The 4:00 AM Rube

I blame not really being awake yet..............Yeah that's it, I was not quite awake when the free offer of a $250 gift card floated across the Boston Herald web page.  Geez, I had not even finished my first cup of coffee.  Anyone who knows me and even those who don't, should at least assume I am less than useless without at least 2 cups of Joe in my system first thing in the morning.

When I am coherent and my brain has all two cylinders churning their normal 200 RPM's, I don't fall for those gotcha moments that lurk behind every website waiting to pounce on naive and stupid Internet travelers.  But half awake, my guard was down and when the flashing large font "You have been chosen to receive a $250 gift card from Walmart - Just fill out our short survey" page opened, almost on automatic or maybe seduced by the flashing lights and weakened financial situation I find myself in most days of the week, I punched it up.

So I just lost 30 minutes of my life answering questions and refusing to take part in the "special offers".  For a buck or less, I could lose weight, whiten my teeth, get my credit score sent to me daily, join any number of shopping clubs, get repair insurance, car insurance, life insurance, and pet insurance.  There were offers for free pet vitamins, human vitamins, and pills to keep me hard now that Life was getting soft.  For free I could sign up to replace hair where it no longer grew, remove hair where it grew now and never did before, or just get some chemical stripper that would remove hair with some kind of hygenic "scorched earth" process. 

Like a stroll down the midway of a second rate carnival, I had hawkers and snake oil salesmen assaulting me from every side.  All of them promised me a life free from drudgery, toil, and shame.  I assume the ladies would once again find me attractive, the men would stand in awe, and animals of all kinds would heel and obey once I had paid for the secret commands.

That first cup of coffee finally settled into my system.  I woke up enough to understand what was going on.  All of these free offers were only free for a short "time trial" and please give us your credit card number so that in 30 days, we can charge you umpteen dollars a month for something you didn't want or need but because you were a bonehead at 4:00 AM, we now own your sorry ass.

I quickly closed all windows and hunkered down behind the desk..................Let me know when they're gone.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

The Unsympathetic Hero

All it took was one small cough.  I felt the twinge and knew immediately I was going to.................drop to my knees.  You see I have been there, done that so many times in the last 25 years, I know better than to resist.  My only problem was I had organized the trip and marketed it to enough people that I felt obligated to go.  Besides, I had not been to a "Turkey Burner Ride" in years and I wanted to ride with my kid again.  Screw my back.  I would be okay once we started riding, right?   Riiiiight.  Sure, anything you say.

Of course, before I could ride, I had to drive for an hour and a half.  That meant an hour and a half of extreme discomfort, my legs were gonna be in pain, the knot in my back would grow to the point that once I hit the parking lot at Massabesic Lake, I would be a crumpled and twisted old fart who probably should have stayed home.  Yeah right.  The number of rides I have left is growing shorter.  So screw my back, I'm going for a ride.

This was the 17th Annual Turkey Burner Ride sponsored by a tight knit cycling group called FOMBA (Friends Of Massabesic Bicycling Association).  For 17 years they have had this event the day after Thanksgiving.  I have seen as many as 700 people there and as few as a couple of hundred.  But rain or shine, they still show up.  It is a pay to play event with the money going to a local Rescue Squad.  

The first eight or so miles was rolling flat double track with some connecting pavement.  I was doing fine.  Then the group of four I was with landed at the Hot Chocolate Stop.Two hundred yards down the road was the  split where the Heroes went right to taste 15 miles of single track and the regular folk went left to finish back at the parking lot.  Sadly, I had brought heroes with me.  They went right.  Having ridden the single track there before when I used to be heroic, I knew I was in for it.  I was not disappointed.

My situation was not helped by the fact that on the day previous, Thanksgiving, I imbibed in more beer than I am used to, ate more sweets than I am used to, and stuffed food of the Thanksgiving kind down my throat like there was no tomorrow.  So with an extremely sour stomach, achie head, and a back that was in a constant state of spasm, I entered the single track.

It got interesting right out of the gate.  The trail was called the Long Trail.  I assumed that it was so named because it never did end.   Okay, yeah it ended, but it seemed like it took a life time to unfold.  And while it was unfolding, I managed to use body english to my dis-advantage.  Every technical spot I would un-weight one wheel or the other, twist this way and, ouch dammit, twist that way until finally back close to where we began this torture I was ready to have someone dig a hole, kick me into it, and maybe cover me with dirt.  It wouldn't matter, I would not have noticed either way.

We had our pants full about 17 miles into the total of 27 miles available that day.  I hung in and managed to finish with a smile on my face.  As I was wolfing down an excellent roast beef sub at some deli somewhere close to our departure point, I realized a painful day in the woods on my bike beat a painful day on the couch, hands down.  And I had the opportunity to spin my wheels along side of my daughter's wheels.  That alone made whatever discomfort I endured well worth the trip.

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

Friday, November 25, 2011

Send in the Clowns

Seems I missed some excitement.  My NewsMax feed filled me in on what has been happening during the last 24 hour news cycle.

~Obama Man "forgot" to thank God in his weekly radio address devoted this week to Thanksgiving.  The conservative tweeters are all a flutter.   More proof he really is a Muslim born in Kenya.  Everyone knows those Muslims are Godless losers who really worship at Satan's feet.

~ Michelle Bachmann demanded and received an apology from NBC for being insulted as she stepped onto the stage of the Jimmy Fallon Show.  Apparently the Godless band played a few bars of Fishbone's "Lyin Ass Bitch" as she walked on stage......................Hmm..................Yeah it was tasteless and all, but if anyone owes anyone an apology, the people of Minnesota owe this nation an apology for electing her in the first place.   Her public record however does indicate the song was more of a tribute than a slight.

~The most recent dimwit from Texas, Gov. Perry, is insisting Leon Panetta should resign as Sec/Def in protest over the automatic 500 billion dollar cut in Defense that will go down because the Congressional Stupid Super Committee failed to do it's job and suddenly the cuts that Congress set up will go on automatic.  But according to Perry it is Obama's fault.  Perry's light burns brighter everyday as the vacuum in his head increases. 

Actually, I guess I did not miss much in the last 24 hour news cycle.  Just more of the same clowns doing what they do to entertain us. 


Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Thanksgiving Eve

It is the day before Thanksgiving.  I would call it Thanksgiving Eve, but for some reason we only allow ourselves two Eves, Christmas and New Years.  Regardless, it is the day before Thanksgiving and I sit here in front of  a replacemnet computer we had in a box.  My recently beefed up, tweaked and highly tuned monster computer pulled a hamstring and is on the inactive list until the team doctor looks it over.  So much for more power.

It is 4:20 AM.  Snow is beginning to stack up some outside.  They were calling for 4 to 8 inches in our area and well, after the last fiasco of getting 20 inches when only 8 inches were predicted, I am not going to be optimistic they got it right this time either.  Any hope this very odd warm Fall is going to continue much longer fades with each new inch on the ground.

My daughter came home for Thanksgiving.  Instead of our usual 3 person quiet family get together, we will be walking down Sam Page to Brendan and Susan's place.  Along with 15 other people, we will sample dishes from all over the neighborhood.  We were told to bring appetizer and dessert.  I voted for cheesy bars.  Bobbi shot me a look.  She had other plans.  As I am not expected to help make anything, I was not expected to even voice an opinion.  I scooted back to my man cave and let her alone.

It is now 10:30 or so AM.  I have successfully removed my second snow pile of the season from the driveway.  Thankfully the repairs I made to the snow blower at the end of last year seem to be working out.  The machine is a beast once again.  Only 7 inches this time.  So I guess for the 2011/2012 snow season the local meteoroligists are batting 500.

If nothing else, try to forget the madness going on out there and have a gut busting pleasant Turkey Day.

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

Monday, November 21, 2011

United in Disgust

I have been attempting to keep my mouth shut about the OWS phenomenon.  As many people are, I am somewhat confused about their specific objectives.  I am guessing they have some, but apparently with the "movement" scattered all over the nation with no clear leader at the head, objectives can be regional gripes that have nothing to do with Wall Street, but more about the final straw closing of the last Widget factory that packed up it's stuff and moved to Asia.

I am a strong supporter of civil unrest when it is warranted.  Rioting just to riot like after your favorite team won or lost is stupid and I have no sympathy for some drunk who gets his head bashed in after torching someone's Dodge Pick up.  But activities like OWS intrigue me.  Along with the recent rise of the Tea Party, we now have two political populations who have decided that this country is not the place they either remember or they do not like the direction it is headed.  In that respect, the two, the Tea Party and OWS, are untied by a shared disgust with the status quo.

The age old boys club that has ruled as one but pretended to be from two different neighborhoods is extremely nervous.  This makes me smile.  This makes me grin.  To use a tired word coined and almost ruined, the Establishment is being assaulted.  This time not from the just the Left, but from the Right as well.  Both sides have legitimate gripes once one takes the time to weed out the bullshit slogans, soundbites, and fictions fabricated and pushed as truth.  The Power structure made up of government and the private sector should be on everyone's shit list.  Between the two of them they tossed leadership out in favor of pocket lining or securing a stranglehold on the reins of government.  Instead of leading us, they have been bleeding us and now they are being shoved into the light of day from both sides...............About time.


Saturday, November 19, 2011

Dave's House

So I was checking some pictures I snapped of my friend Dave B's dooryard.  Every hunting season, his barn is the barn all the cool locals use to hang their kills prior to hitting the butcher shop to be turned into edible chunks of this or that.   This year so far I have counted at least 6 deer, one huge moose, and Water District Dave told me he saw a bear hanging there for a day.  Everyone wants to hang their game at Dave B's.

I like Dave.  He lets my circle of riding friends use his property to access the trails off the railroad bed out behind his place.  Off and on I have tried to get him into riding bikes, but well, it ain't happening.  Dave likes to putz around his yard making sure it is well kept, planting huge gardens and of course hanging as many deer as possible during hunting season.  Once in awhile I see him strolling up or down Main Street with his significant other.  Nice folks, just not into cycling.

I took a few quick shots of the couple of small bucks hanging from the trapeze contraption he has hanging from his hay bale lift.  They all came out my usual a tad out of focus, but good enough to make any point I wanted to about Dave, the hip local hunters and life in my small parcel of Maine during November of any year you would care to check.

 While deciding which image to head my post about Dave and his deer hanging dooryard, I noticed in  the small window next to the barn door, this moose skull staring out towards Main St.  I copied the image, cropped it, and what you see at the top was the result.

I am never sure what draws me to some images over others.  This one grabbed me for several reasons.  The out plumb variety of lines, the rough texture of being slightly out of focus combined with the old barn wood and window.  Or maybe it was shape of the skull behind the grid which was wrapped in a contrasting border that interrupted out of plumb verticals.  Whatever.  I just liked how it turned out.  I am sure in the scheme of artistic effort, it rates somewhere between Ho and Hum.  I say this because  I showed it to Keith when he swung by the bike shop and he said something like, "Cool".  It was a lukewarm "Cool".

Once I decided I liked it I had to play with it.  Soon I had 5 or 6 copies of it in various shades, light treatment, shadowed hard, or saturated with colors to bring out whatever other cool looks I could drag out of it.  After all my dubbing around with it I think I like the original and the sepia one to the left best..

I most likely  have used up about all the interest you might have regarding this kodak moment.  I figure I ought to close by treating you to the original image I cropped it out of.  So enjoy or not.  If nothing else, it is a small piece of the reality I live with here in southern Maine.  Some things are timeless - Hunting Season in Maine is one of them.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Sugar Plum Fairies, Flags & the Last Commie

The Sugar Plum Fairy of St. Charles, Missouri has been fired.  It's comical on one hand and a sad statement on the other about how tight folks' butts are getting in some parts of this nation.  Add in the recent refusal of a bakery to bake a wedding cake for a lesbian couple tying the knot and I  wonder if we are not slipping back into the "Good Ole Days" like so many folks seem to want.  The good ole days that also had hidden in the shadows, the bad ole days.  Apparently from the two stories, some want them included as well.

Then I read that viewing the US flag can cause one to vote Republican.  I have been wondering what the cause was.  I knew it had to be something simple and direct. So I stared at one for an hour.  Seems a change has come over me............................

I punched up a profile of Canada put together by the BBC.  Maybe it was my computer, but all I got was a blank page.  I don't think it was my computer.  BBC obviously has nothing to say about Canada.  Even after reinstalling the Queen as the head of their country, Canada still can't get any respect from the Brits.  It's understandable they get no respect from the US.  They're our next door neighbors.  At least they ain't rowdy and out of control like our neighbors to south are.  But man are they boring.  Booooooooring.  No riots.  No drug killings.  Just a bunch of ice drivin, tree choppin oil drillin hockey watchin fools who like better beer than we do.

I did not punch up the BBC profile of the US.  Now that I have stared the flag down and become a good American and all, I knew anything some wannabe Euro trash media outfit might come up with would be a pack of lies and innuendos.  After all, their own history books tell the story of the revolution all wrong.  We kicked their wanker butts and some clown with a Sir in front of his name tries to tell me King George lll had other fish to fry and finally just got tired of us "Colonists".  Yeah right.  Then he goes on to compare England's handling of "the Colonies" to our commie ass kickin crusade in Viet Nam.   Shoot.  Where does he come up with this crap?  We kicked butt in 1776 and again in 1966.  As long as more of them die than us, then we win.  Right?

I noticed the last Munchkin died.  Though I finally grew up to be a burly bad ass American male who had to fight the chicks off with a stick, when I was wee small the Munchkins gave me nightmares.  Maybe it was their outfits, their smaller than normal stature, but I think it was their swarming ways and funny voices.  Like some surrealistic minature lynch mob all dressed the same, they would surround me and ..........anyway, I figured out why they made me nervous.  I think they were all actually commie plants.  As evidence, the last Munchkin was not born here.  He was from Ucrania, Slavickastan, one of those hammer and sickle countries over there on one side of Europe or the other. Pink as the day he was born.

Maybe now I can sleep at night.

Not sure where this came from.  But stare at the Stars & Stripes for an hour without blinking and see what it does to you.

Thursday, November 17, 2011


I have recently attempted to re-immerse myself into the Blogging World.  Now that winter is closing in and my shop has slowed to a crawl, I find my mind has dumped much of the business related concerns and stress.  This has left a hole.  Left an opportunity to work what's left of my mind on other pursuits.

So I have begun to reacquaint myself with many of my old blogging friends  and locate a few new blogs I will visit again in the future.  One thing I have noticed after being MIA most of this year is how much slicker and hip many of the blogs I visit have become.  The contrast is stark when I always come back to this humble and dusty place I call "Lost in the BoZone".  Well with the exception of Randal's blog.  His is as dusty and retro grouch as mine is.

As I stated in my last post "Retro-Grouching", I hate change as a rule.  I have learned to almost accept change I have no control over.  But where I dig my heels in is change where I can have an impact in keeping it at bay.  My life is riddled with events and phases where I carried the "Fight Change" banner to levels of useless, just being contrary to be contrary heights of stupidity.   My dad always contended that calling someone "hardheaded" was just a nice way of calling them a moron.  He refused to call me hardheaded.  It was moron or nothing.

So I recognize the issue of being out of the current blog fashion loop.  And yeah, my blog could use some gusseying up.  But if I am gonna change anything here, I will have to go through a period of agony first.  What ifs, what mights, and is it even worth the trouble type anguishing.    When I have satisfactorily worn out  all the what might be's, I will enter the phase of "forget it and hope the urge goes away".  Or maybe it should be called the "if I don't think about it, it doesn't exist" phase.

If the issue or supposed improvement is important enough for a variety of or even a single reason, it will refuse to let me forget it.  It will nibble at my coattails, rub back and forth between my legs, or maybe toss a claw filled paw at some dainty body part.  Even ole dogs and hard headed fools will take notice if it's painful.

Knowing my tendency to fight change just for shits and giggles and also knowing that eventually I will cave once I have absorbed enough self loathing and critical self recrimination, why don't I save myself and the World at large a lot of trouble by just jumping on board right out of the gate?

I have thought about this and well, altering a life long habit would entail ....yeah that's right, it would mean change.  Hmmm.  Think I'll forget about it and hope it goes away.

Keep it "tween the ditches....................................

If you got this far only after reading the above post, then you realize the image has nothing at all to do with the written words.  I thought I'd throw Randal a bone, er, or maybe create one for him.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011


So I don't like change. A lot of us don't like change. Even though we all know change happens, many of us still resist. Some even go so far as to wish the past back in our lives.  

Lacrosse Sticks - I am still pissed they got rid of the all wooden lacrosse stick. The transition happened back when I was playing the sport in college. All of a sudden the pain I was inflicting on opposing players was cut in half when they forced us to use the wimpy flexible plastic cradle. My favorite check was immediately rendered null and void.  

Bicycle Technology - There are entirely too many "innovations" for me to rant about. Suffice it to say I still contend many were useless lily gilders while a very few truly enhanced the cycling experience.  

The DH in Baseball - I don't care if it has made baseball more exciting for some, it rubs me the wrong way. I have no respect for players whose only claim to fame is being a DH.  

GPS devices in cars - If you are going on a trip, know in advance the route to take. And yeah, sometimes getting lost can be fun too. A friend loaned me his TomTom once for a trip south. I punched in my destination. The gizmo did what it did and planned my route. I then proceeded to go the way I had been for years anyway. I loved hearing it complain followed by, "Recalculating, recalculating" until it had figured out a new alternative route based on the turn I just missed or made that was not part of the original or new program. I even took one detour out of my way just to really piss it off.  

Electronic locking doors and windows - I know at some point I will have to own a vehicle with these devilish devices, but so far I have never owned a vehicle with them. There's a satisfaction I cannot describe when I manually lower or raise my own window, or use a real key to unlock the door to my pick up.

Which brings me to this Blog, computers in general, and the speed at which our culture is forced to embrace change before we got used to the last change.

Blogger has been in my face about trying out it's "new format".  Blogger is never really in your face, but they are quietly insistent.  So rather than grouse about it before the fact like I always do when being force fed change, I switched yesterday.  Besides the whole look changing, toolbars gone missing or moved, and way more choices than I will ever use, it is basically the same I guess.  Bottom line is I figured it out and will hopefully see this post successfully posted.  But I don't have to like it to use it.  So I won' it that is.  I hereby invoke the General Principles rule from my  retro-grouch bag of rules.

Why the Hell is our world in such a damn hurry?  We ain't going anywhere. 

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Post Ride Reflections - Part Deux - 200 words

Aging muscularity whines, cries, refuses to work as ordered. Minor waves of pain float in, float out, their focus on specific body parts come out of nowhere and last only long enough to leave a slight taste of their passing. Cursing the limitations age has imposed yet vehemently repudiating time and its supposed toll, he fooled himself one more time and set course for another trip down memory lane. Snubbing the soft caress of virtual travel, he just had to pound out the miles declining to admit he is not what he used to be.

Done now, he sits on a bumper, the ground, or maybe a nearby picnic table and reflects. Every physical piece and part screams at him in anger. Yet he notices that amidst their incessant complaining, his mind is crystal clear focused on this specific moment of Life and how delicious it tastes.

He looks up. Across the parking lot, across the street on the sidewalk, an old codger shuffles along with a walker. One step, two steps, stop. Push the walker forward - now repeat. The rider smiles. Being that guy may yet be in his future. But not today. Today he can still fly.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

She Punished the Hard Right Out of Him

You know the type. A bit worn around the edges from more than a few hard miles. Dresses on the trashy side and pops her gum between sentences. If you look too close early on, you might try to skip out on her. But you are a stud and you're horny. No last call wench is gonna throw you off your game. Her and her sharp curves and bony lookin spine. You've taken on tougher women than this. You showed em...........

Well stud, how'd it go anyway? You're lookin a tad worn out, used up, thrashed good and proper. Looks like you been ridden hard and put away wet.

What's that? Can't hear you. Stop mumbling ferchrisakes. Did you have your way with her or what?

Oh I see. She was a handful huh? Early on even..........what? Speak up man, you're mumbling again. Weren't expectin her to be so rough right out of the gate? Jeez dude, she's from Biddeford. Genteel ain't part of their culture. If you wanted romance first, you were in the wrong town. Shoulda stayed home.

But go on with your story once you've hacked up that second lung. I'll wait....................So you were hoping for some warm up lovin, ease into the rough stuff foolin around. And what happened, she came right at you, all up in your face twistin here rollin there, showing you dirty bits and naughty parts best left covered. And what's that about her holes? Holes you would have just as soon missed, but she insisted and well, you are a stud, so you tried to oblige. Notice I said tried bub. She's out there right now laughin at you and the puny equipment you brought with you.

Well fella, all I can say is when you go to Bid-fud, you gotta takes the brassy broad as she comes. Try to go with her flow, but for chrisakes, stay on top. She will bury you hard if you give her half a chance. And from the look on your sad sad what did I just do face, she had you down on your knees begging to be set free or at least have it be over..............Hope it was fun for a little while anyway.


I would tell you to get your mind out of the gutter, but I did take you there. These were my post ride impressions, dreamed up as I laid delirious trying to relocate my ability to move any muscle I could after being spanked hard on a trail ride today down on the coast. They may not have tall hills, but they know how to punish. It has been a long time, at least a couple of months, since I have felt this used and abused after a ride. But she left me grinning. Between cramp spasms that is.

Figured I would pull the classic stereotypical male crap and assign sexual overtones to the ride. Cuz, I gotta say sometimes there is no better way to describe a ride.

Later I hope to be present and accounted for in front of the tube to watch my Pats try to break out of their funk. I won't hold my breath. Passing out may be unavoidable.


The image of the woman with the Balitmore Doo is from "Female trouble", a movie by John Waters.

The image of the stunt rock is from the area I rode today, but not part of the trails we suffered on.