All the hoopla over the recent book, "No Easy Day" makes me smile and frown at the same time.  Matt Bissonette, AKA Mark Owen, the former navy Seal who penned the account makes claims that in small ways differ from the official version.  Whether Bin Laden was killed in the room or while he stuck his head out of the door is of no consequence in my opinion.  The man is dead and gone.  For me that is all that matters.  And Matt's claim that the book is not political statement is not his call to make.  It has become one whether he wants it too or not.  His back handed criticisms of the President and his part in the affair  mean nothing to me.  Matt was but one cog in an mission machine made up of many cogs and much planning far above his pay grade and I assume intelligence.  The President had to make the decision to initiate the plan.  It was Matt's job to follow the orders to carry it out.  Had the mission failed who would be blamed?  Certainly not Matt.  The president would have had to eat the blame.

That the President is garnering some political capital from his decision is what politicians do.  I wonder what Bush would have done after the attack, given his publicity hogging landing on an aircraft carrier with a sign in the back ground that said "Mission Accomplished" and in reality, the mission had only begun. 

Politicians never miss a chance to bank good publicity.  It isn't right and it isn't wrong.  It is what pols do.  On the other hand what Matt did when he wrote the book was wrong on many levels.  The least of which was that he chose to disrespect the long standing tradition of the Seals to not talk publicly about their missions.  Not only is he bragging about his part in it, he is most likely going to make millions off the book.  Shame on him.  And the fact he did not not even use his own name tells me he is probably not someone I would want to have my back.  The Seals are better off without him.

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

Close Encounter

So I have been MIA awhile now.  Figured I'd stop by and put a few words to paper (so to speak).  Since I have not been watching, listening, or otherwise paying any attention to events outside my small parcel of the planet, I have cleansed myself of the need to vent over stupid actions by stupid leaders.  Besides, paying attention to what's in front of me is a full time job it appears.

GW Bush rode by me on a mountain bike last week.  Keith and I said, "Good Morning George".   Dubya grinned and we continued on our way.  Of course in tow behind him was a group of maybe 30 local riders who comprise what is called "Peloton 1".  There was security everywhere.  ATVs, big guys and gals on mountain bikes, and the appropriate number of black SUVs all over the area.  That was one expensive mountain bike ride. 

Keith and I had no clue the ex-President was in the woods over to the Smith Preserve in Kennebunk.  We were glad he was finishing up and we were just getting started.  We had the woods to ourselves once the sweep security rode/drove past us. 

I hated the man's politics and many if not all the actions he put in play during his reign as POTUS.  But seeing him grunting it out on a mountain bike has taken the edge of the animosity I have for him.   The fact we share a common interest and he is no longer large and in charge has mellowed my opinion of the man........but not what he did to us.


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

Not Sure What to Say

I never meant to be away as long as I have.  It just sort of happened.  I had to make room for the extra time and energy I was beginning to pour into other facets of my life - you know, family, work, yard, riding, more healthy endeavors than sitting in front of this computer. That's how it started and before I knew what was happening, I was not even turning the computer on unless it was bike shop related.  The blog became a guilty thought I began to file with the other guilty thoughts I carry as baggage from 60 years on the planet.

Besides, all the madness happening outside my small world was driving me bonkers.  Idiots deluding large crowds of more idiots with promises that Life can return to what we thought it once was because now we conveniently forget the ugliness that wrapped the pleasant moments we have pushed to the top of our memories.  Turning back the clock is a fool's errand and oftentimes seems to add to the decay instead of turning it around.


I was not sure what to write after so long an absence, but at least I wrote something.  I won't promise to be back soon, but I will try to once again make this blog part of my daily life.  I truly do enjoy the process of writing.

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

The Journeyman's Speedball

I know, I know.  I've been MIA awhile now.  No excuses.  Been busy .........Damn busy.   The bike shop has not been this active in......well, I guess it has been long enough that I just can't put my finger on it.  I am certainly not complaining about the serious uptick in business.  Now I just complain about being a beat, dog tired, tuckered buckaroo 24/7.

The image represents what has been keeping my candle flickering at both ends.............the poor man's speedball, Caffeine and Papst Blue Ribbon Beer.  One to keep the engine revving and one to take the edge off and keep me from red lining.

Apparently I was in the throes of a deeper funk than even I realized.  For several years I guess, I was lost, down, pissed, and hating my business.  I blamed the economy.  The economy certainly did not help matters.  It's tough to bring a smile to work when I knew the door was not going to open much.  But to be fair, we make our own way and I had made mine.  I lived down to my expectations.  Can't make much progress that way.

I won't bore you with the details, but once again, I look forward to the daily grind at the bike shop.  I used to love to work.  Apparently I still do.  I just had to work through some mental, emotional, private, don't even know exactly what it was stuff.  I can't say with any certainty the black dog is behind me for good.  He is at least on a tighter leash now.  Seems I have regained some control of the rowdy bunch inside.  Or maybe they just got tired of complaining.

My little friend above is one of the many beetles we have here in Maine.  I have no clue what beetle gang  he hails from.  He just showed up the other morning clinging to the side of my shop near the back door waiting for the Sun to turn the corner and warm him up enough so he could continue his journey from wherever it was he was to wherever it is he is going.  I hope he makes it.  His actual size is maybe 1/4 inch.  He certainly cuts an imposing well dressed figure when blown up 30 or 40 times. 

Anyway, just a short note to let everyone know who cares I am still here and will post as I can.

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

The Undone Gang

I took a few moments from my single minded focus on the bike shop this morning to check on the rest of the World.  The usual madness seemed to be unfolding just like it was when I checked last week.  Missing people are being looked for.  Other dead people missing even longer are being found instead.  Good government policies barely make up for the bad government policies.  My country is still embroiled in a military situation there seems to be no dignified escape from.  And last but not least, I notice the Brothers Four are still pissing down each others leg  for the right to take on Obama and piss down his leg.

Welcome Guests

Last week when I pulled into the bike shop parking lot I parked in my usual spot next to an aging and beat cherry tree.  Even though Time and the harsh elements of Maine have had their way with this tree, it still produces profuse bundles of inedible berries.  Inedible for me anyway.  Sour and nasty in my opinion.  But the birds love them.

The Brazil Butt Lift

I passed out on the couch last night.  8:00PM was my last awareness of time and the last thing I remember was I had a 24 ounce Papst in my hand.  It was St. Patrick's Day after all.  When I awoke at dark thirty in the morning, the Papst still had several ounces in it.

Being parched and in need of immediate hydration, I gratefully gulped down the last of the warm and flat beer.  Thirst quenched, I took a moment to get up to speed about my current situation.  Waking up on the couch was normal.  At least one cat on my chest, yep, normal.  And the TV being on was standard operating procedure.

It was what was on the tube that made me do a double take.  Spread across the screen was a close up shot of maybe seven sets of tanned buttocks wearing not much.  These were perfect and delectable buns.  The voice over informed me that I too could have buns like these if I would only call this number for the secret to a beautiful butt, oh and please do not forget that credit card.

Intrigued, but still in the throes of being half awake and half dead, I considered what it would be like to have buns that looked like the ones I was gazing upon at the moment.  Immediately I saw myself on some beach wearing a thong to show off my beautiful buns but I had forgotten to include time to exercise for those Amazing Abs.  Around front hanging over and hiding the top thong was my notable pot belly all hairy and stuff.  Yeah Mike, the chicks would not be able to resist.

Now that I have ruined your day with this image I can only say that if you have any notion of owning beautiful buns, make sure to also do what it takes to own Amazing Abs.  While you are at it, might as well beef up those pecks and deltoids at the same time.  Since you have gone this far, naturally a penile enhancement or breast augmentation would be a logical add on.  Along with comprehensive defoliation, add in some judicious skin tucking around the neck and maybe some material lifted from above the eyes and voila, you can once again know what it's like to be twenty years old.

Now you are ready to retire to Buenos Aires  and be available for that testimonial in the next Brazil Butt Lift infomercial. 

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

The Sad Reality

The bike shop has pushed the rest of my life off center stage.  Hopefully I will find some balance sooner than later.  But I am afraid I am back into it. The repairs are not just trickling in anymore.  It would be helpful if I don't burn out until September. 

Do something long enough and no matter what goes on around this something one does day in day out, the rhythms remain the same, even if the resulting conditions change.

I changed my age old bike shop business model three years ago now.  And yes, it has changed the way I interact with my customers.  Mistakes become bigger deals as I have had to learn to walk a narrower financial ledge in order to keep the doors open.  No longer is dickering the exception, it is now the rule.The customer is coming in with the idea of spending as little as possible for the product or service they want.  The retailer (me) hopes to maximize his profit, but  has become used to settling for the minimum profit he needs to get by. 

Free Range Time Keeping

I have become used to the government and their tendency to fool around with the money I send them every year.  They often pretend to give it back, calling it a tax cut.  That never lasts because while they are thinking of ways to give it back, they are always considering more ways to take it away.  It is as if they had this big balloon filled with air.  Someone ensconced well within the gulliwots of the government belly decides the citizenry could use some of that air.  They tap the balloon and let some of it out, which in theory should give all us a little more room to breathe.  But we all know the government does not enjoy working with an under inflated balloon, so on the other side of the balloon, they plug in a pump to suck most, if not more of that previously released air back into the balloon. 

Pine Tree State Politics - An Update

Angry and indignant women carrying signs and chips on their shoulders congregate in front of a local AM radio station in Portland, Maine to protest that station's active role in spreading the hate filled nonsense of another brainless political hack.  These irate ladies demand the station cease broadcasting this man's message.

When interviewed, the station manager grins ever so slightly and tells us the man has an audience that either loves him or hates him, but it's the numbers that count.  As long as he has an audience, no matter their opinion, the station will not stop his broadcasts here in Maine. 

Waking Up Dead

George was fairly certain he was dead now.  The last time his eyes were open, they were looking down an empty subway tunnel under lower Manhattan.  George was a track checker and close to retirement.  It was his last full week at work and as he had done for 35 years previously, he trudged his section of tunnel looking for problems on the line, around the line, down the line.

Now George noticed he was walking on a dirt road.  Up high, the Sun sat on one side of noon or the other.  Trees swayed slightly under a kind and gentle breeze.  Outside woodsy smells assaulted his nostrils replacing the stench of the subway he had huffed 5 days a week for the last too many years.  He had a walking stick in his hand and he no longer limped.

The Ant Farm

I visited Conservapedia the other day to check out what movies they felt presented conservative values in a strong and positive way.  Surprisingly, there was no Ronnie flick near the top.  The top two conservative movies were "Witness", in at number 1 and "Spiderman" close behind at number 2.  There was the predictable assortment of biblical movies in the mix, 'Ben Hur" "The Ten Commandments", etc.  Ronnie did not show up until well down the list.  Seems conservatives value his political skills much higher than his acting skills.  Me, well I give him a low to mediocre grade on both.

Another Beacon of Light in the GOP

“Our country is falling apart economically, politically, culturally, militarily,” he said. “We are going down.”

Art Jones or Arthur Jones, the name he preferred back in his younger more passionately fascist days is a Republican candidate for Congress in Illinois' 3rd district.  He is sure the US is in the same state of chaos that Germany found itself following WW I.  As a former member of the Nationalist Socialist Party (NAZI) and an ardent student of Germany, Hitler and all the pomp and circumstance only men in brown shirts and hob nail boots can create, Art is also positive the Holocaust never happened.

Another of the DIsconnected - Disconnects

While the snow blew hard outside today, I managed to be productive and streamline some day to day, week to week, month to month bike business drudgery into a less haphazard process.  As I get deeper into the actual business part of running a retail business, I find I want more information with less digging.  Today, I designed my own spreadsheet to help me do that.  Call it an education in spreadsheet basics (courtesy of my loving and dear wife with the CPA - uh, this plug is absolutely necessary if I want her help in the future).  The new twist on the information I was hoping to find brought a deeper understanding of financial aspects I need to be paying better attention to.  It is as if I peeled back one more layer of this onion.

Ending Up With Extra Parts

I forgot we were in for an extra day this year.  I have one more day to catch up on all that I have fallen behind on.  I have one extra day to hold off paying any bills due in the first week of March.  24 bonus hours to either waste or use wisely...............Riiiiight.

I will admit that at an early age I thought the concept of time was silly.  At least the way we humans seem to be tied to it so closely.  It took many years before I grudgingly caved to the World's insistence on schedules, lead times, down time, and having no time.

Currently and Totally Disgusted

I recently broke one of my rules regarding the Internet.  I opened up and read the comment section of a political blog, the Drudge Retort.  I then went further down the rabbit hole by actually commenting on a few articles.  What was I thinking?  I gave up fencing with idiots many years ago.  Yet, here I was trying my best to bring sense into an arena where common sense has no place.  Yes, among the frothers and hate spewers, there were voices of reason.  But they were, as they always are, shouted down with brainless party hack regurgitations from minds obviously well soused with their side's kool aid.

The Ex-Marine

I was supposed to go ice riding this morning.  I didn't.  My daughter came up from Springfield, Mass yesterday.  I figured a visit with her even for the short time she would be here today before she left was more important than a freezing cold ride out in the woods.  And it was some cold this morning.  Windchill I figure was in the negative numbers below zero.  Brrrr.

I am glad I took time from my own selfish pursuits to catch up with the world and events surrounding my only daughter.  She is hating her doctoral program at the moment because of the courses she is being force fed.  But she knows it will get better.  Her Honda Fit  she now knows is not meant for winter style driving - too loosie goosie in the frozen shit.  And she has finally found a guy that seems to fit in with her lifestyle.

No Guilt.....Well Not Enough for Me to Not Do It

"Yeah Keith, you are absolutely correct.  I oughta give myself a new bike for my 60th birthday.  Ain't had a brand new complete bike built from the ground up in more than a few years.  Think the last one was my 'Ted', almost 20 years ago."

And so the seed was planted.  A small part of a casual conversation about bikes, riding, and when will the ice and snow be completely gone in the woods............. If anyone asks, I'll swear it was Keith's fault.

Life as a Loose Dog

I have been MIA quite a bit here in the blogging neighborhoods that permeate the Internets.  It certainly was not a planned absence.  Everyday I miss out on my fix, I have regrets.  But I made a promise to myself this year.  Not a New Year's resolution type promise, but a promise nonetheless.

Satan's Crutch

Santorum recently claimed that Satan was hard at work destroying our country.  "Yeah", I thought, "Rick, you have been a very busy boy of late."

The Dark Ages, or in polite historical circles,  Medieval times or maybe even less controversial, the Middle Ages came to mind.  Being a history buff, but hardly disciplined or myopic enough to be considered a historian, I have always considered the study of history to be opinion supported by facts.  There is nothing objective about History.  There are events no one can argue over.  But try to find reasons for those events and what their repercussions were, well, it's like listening to Fox News or reading the Huffintgon Post.  Everyone puts their own spin on it.