Monday, September 20, 2021
Thursday, September 16, 2021
Instead of beating on all Wingers, Joe has allowed old favorites like Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham some major slack of late. It is disappointing, but not unexpected. Joe is a genuine to the bone, Right Winger. That he was and still is so anti Trump and his minions just proves that not all Wingers went insane. It also proves that if one hates Trump, that does not necessarily turn them into a commie pinko libtard, no matter what Fox News says.
He is beginning to ask that the Republican party be considered separate from the Qanon style madness attributed to them by the Left.
Bullshit. It is nothing but the old excuse used and abused by religious and political leaders to deflect any blame for the horrors done in the name of their religion or political party.
" Not all Muslims are terrorists." or " Not all Republicans are Trumpers."
These are true on the face of the statements. But the responsibilities of leadership does not stop there.
If leadership fails to try to rein in or, at the least, condemn the extreme factions of their group, they become enablers which makes them no better than accomplices. When a leadership stands mute while many of the faithful run amok, their silence is more often than not taken as tacit approval of the craziness acted out in the name of the group.
This is why I am disappointed in Joe. He is taking his heel off the throat of selective Wingers too soon by using a tired excuse that does not hold water. As long as the insanity within the ranks of the GOP continues its out of control trajectories, the whole party bears responsibility.
Hand wringing and mealy mouthed insincerities do not cut it anymore. The Republican Party owns Trump and all that has transpired as a result of his presence these last six years. And as far as the historical repercussions, they will own those forever.
Sunday, September 12, 2021
Saturday, September 11, 2021
Adrift in a new age with no rudder, our response was mindlessly lashing out which was what the attackers wanted. Any victory perceived on the far horizon was doomed to fail. And fail it did; Big time.
Time may heal wounds but Time does nothing for the sad memories so violently implanted.
Where do we go from here?
Tuesday, September 07, 2021
A flash fiction piece originally posted - Jan 2, 2012
I am posting again because recent events in Texas seems to be coinciding somewhat with this potential future scenario.
Image - Salvdor Dali - Christ of Saint John of the Cross
Monday, September 06, 2021
To put it bluntly, it is Truck Porn aimed at the classics when trucks were like women. And some even looked better than women. Personally, I prefer the B&W grainy, been folded four times image with thumbtack holes and a round brown coffee stain blocking part of the name on the truck. Those are the ones to copy and hide under the mattress.
The posts are mostly images with or without explanations or historical context. It only takes a half hour to accrue many likes. My first post had 80 plus likes in the first two hours. The last time I checked there were over 500, which is not unusual. I have never been part of such a large Facebook group.
Since I joined a month or so ago, the rule regarding no politics seemed to be respected by the posters as a whole. I read subtle digs here and there: mostly where a union or independent trucker would feel slighted. They were mostly minor skirmishes that lasted only a few comments.
And then this morning someone posted the image at the top of the page. Less than an hour and 93 comments later, Fallen Flags shed its calm, friendly wrapper and revealed the hate and discontent that roiled and boiled just below the surface.
An overwhelming majority voiced their disgust with such obvious socialist leaning propaganda. Nasty comments rolled off their computers like someone spitting out something evil they found in their mouth. Get in a trucker’s face and nine times out of ten, they will respond in kind.
The negativity did not surprise me. I remember existing in the trucking world for 17 years. As an accused freedom hating commie pinko libtard I had had more than a few heated discussions back in the “My Country, Love it or Leave it” days. I even had to join a drunk driver of a ten wheeled dump out in the gravel outside a bar on some foggy mountain top southwest of Pittsburgh. He objected to my hippie freak flag sad excuse of an American wearing an Atlas Van Line uniform. He kept mumbling how I dishonored my uniform. Since I was sober and he was not, it did not go well for him. At least I kept him from driving that dump truck home that night.
Well, he was drunk so he gets a mulligan. The comments this morning I assume were soberly written. If so, then not much has changed since I pounded the highways and byways of this country. Truckers spend countless miles considering the Universe and their place in it. An often favorite fantasy of mine which I know many truckers shared back in the day were those hours I wasted coming up with how to fix every fucking problem on the planet. And to this day, I know I was right then and even more so now. The ex-truckers this morning wrote with the same confidence.
Sadly, just as truckers from the 1970s tended to do, today they are still not getting it when it comes to their industry’s liberal roots which the meme wonderfully points out. Truck drivers owe the liberals of the early 20th century big time whether one is union or independent. Without those liberals, I would guess the golden age of trucking in the US would never have come to pass. Without those liberals, today’s retired truckers might not have the pensions or Social Security the liberals forced upon us. So hate the liberals all you want, but it only shows that you have been convinced to not know where the butter for your bread came from.
Keep it 'tween the ditches .........................................
Saturday, September 04, 2021
The one to the left is my daughter and I enjoying her first trip up a ladder. She was not even three yet.
Though tentative, there is no panic on her face. It was an early glimpse into the fearless nature she would grow into as she took on each new challenge in her young life.
She made me proud.
Thursday, September 02, 2021
Wednesday, September 01, 2021
It had been a punishing tour for everyone. My only hope was to finish out the tour with less drama than had centered on me previously. My truck and trailer were fixed, I was full of renewed dedication after having almost blown it in Erie. So closing in on Chicago had convinced me it would be a cakewalk from here.
My first effort to find the Uptown found me looking at it after an hour of navigating streets not meant for semis. The problem was even though I could see the theater, the north south running El hung at about twelve feet off the road between me and the gig. At least I had plenty of time to regroup, form a new plan of attack and end up on the right side of the tracks. I was parked street side in plenty of time for stage call.
The three days in Chicago passed without much fanfare. I thought so until I recently found a remark I had scrawled in the margins of my ELO itinerary next to the Chicago dates:
"Kung Foo"- and then under that, "Best fight Ever" - and suddenly I remembered.
I cannot remember their names now, but I was sitting in my cab with the two T-shirt concession guys waiting for the show to close so I could back in to load out and they could man their Tee shirt and swag table for the exiting crowd. The Tee shirt guys were a buddy duo who had been in Vietnam together and were now in the Tee shirt business together. Being a sanctioned "official" vendor of ELO Tees and other swag, they frowned on the pirates who haunted the venues marketing inferior knock offs. I once watched them beat a competitor senseless at a large venue, I cannot remember where. Needless to say, they would cheerfully use thier fists to mark their territory.
So, we are in my truck. They were sharing a six Pack, I was not. I never did mix alcohol and driving trucks. I was a very loose dog when off, but not while driving. I was probably sucking on some coffee or a soda I poached from the Green Room.
A small man came out of the alley I was to back down. On his heels two more small figures came running out of the alley and jumped the first guy. They began to awkwardly put on a sad rendition of a kung foo fight. It became very clear that all three were more than half in the bag, they were all shitfaced. Maybe every 3rd or fourth blow landed and often without much effect. The victim gave as drunkenly as he got.
This went on for several minutes. Meanwhile one of the Tee shirt guys begins a Howard Cosell style commentary on what was unfolding 30 feet from the truck. It was hilarious until it wasn't.
At some point, the two assailants manage to get the victim on the ground. At this point they had forgotten any Kung Foo magic and were busy kicking the victim in the kidneys, the legs, wherever they could land a kick.
The Tee shirt guys became concerned. The funny dialog stopped and one of them began to open the door. The other one grabbed his arm and told him to wait a second. He saw something I guess that I and the other Tee shirt guy missed.
The victim was not as down and out as we supposed. When the two assailants stopped to catch their breath, the victim got up and kicked their asses. Not just a minor beating, but a call the ambulance type beating. One of the duo managed to make his escape, but his buddy ended up in the ambulance.
The whole fight lasted maybe five minutes total. The three of them could not have weighed more than 120 pounds each soaking weight. But as it turned out one of them definitely was able to fight above his weight class. His obviously superior martial arts talent prevailed. Oh yeah. The original victim was put in handcuffs until the Tee shirt guys and I offered our take on the fight.
Damn, the odd things I have witnessed from inside a truck.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ..................................................