Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
It is Official -- Our newest Terror Organization inside the US
U.S. Code Tittle 22 Chapter 38, Section 2656f(d) defines terrorism as:
“Premeditated, politically motivated violence perpetrated against
noncombatant targets by sub-national groups or clandestine agents,
usually intended to influence an audience.”[18]
Women across the country, in particular low-income women, can't afford a party who will hack away at reproductive choices, economic mobility, and healthcare access to curry favor with the radical fringe who now are calling all the shots in the Republican party.
Yes, it is sad but true. McCarthy would be proud of them. The Klan will rise again but wearing elephants cloths. The Black Panthers look like mild mannered geniuses compared to this bunch. Hitler would have banned the Republican presidential candidates for being a threat to logic. Jesus would have called them a "brood of vipers" and would have to forgive them because they know not what the fuck they are doing and how much trouble and harm they are causing.
They, the republican wackadoodle political party by design and plan are attacking "Freedom" at its core, intellectually, politically, socially, economically and spiritually. All freedoms are at risk. All religions are at risk. These people would not know a christian if it came riding in on a donkey. The attacks are now becoming physical toward protesters, reporters and other organizations. The policies they are backing will harm many, many millions, cost many billions and further crumble our once great nation. They believe "education and learning" has a liberal bias and therefore should be discouraged. Some of them know their policies are nothing new in history (Hitler, Stalin, Peron) so if we can keep the new kids from learning about slaves and call them "plantation workers" they will not have to explain why certain religions or races (Japanese internment) must not have all the rights of other citizens.
I agree with many that our society is too crude and amoral, I agree that abortion is "ending a life" and the government spends way to much money. I think these things need to be fixed. You just do not do it by eliminating civil liberties and adopting racist, fascist policies. It just takes to long to undo those kinds of policies. North Korea is still 10 years away from change. It took the Soviet Union 40 years to undo its policies.
Just call it what it is -- a terrorist plot
Trump On Attacked Protester: 'Maybe He Should Have Been Roughed Up'
Ted Cruz is so thrilled that someone who wants abortion providers to be killed and is supporting him that he actually sent out a press release to celebrate the endorsement. Is that what this Republican primary has come to? Presidential candidates applauding -- not denouncing -- these radically extreme positions?Women across the country, in particular low-income women, can't afford a party who will hack away at reproductive choices, economic mobility, and healthcare access to curry favor with the radical fringe who now are calling all the shots in the Republican party.
Yes, it is sad but true. McCarthy would be proud of them. The Klan will rise again but wearing elephants cloths. The Black Panthers look like mild mannered geniuses compared to this bunch. Hitler would have banned the Republican presidential candidates for being a threat to logic. Jesus would have called them a "brood of vipers" and would have to forgive them because they know not what the fuck they are doing and how much trouble and harm they are causing.
They, the republican wackadoodle political party by design and plan are attacking "Freedom" at its core, intellectually, politically, socially, economically and spiritually. All freedoms are at risk. All religions are at risk. These people would not know a christian if it came riding in on a donkey. The attacks are now becoming physical toward protesters, reporters and other organizations. The policies they are backing will harm many, many millions, cost many billions and further crumble our once great nation. They believe "education and learning" has a liberal bias and therefore should be discouraged. Some of them know their policies are nothing new in history (Hitler, Stalin, Peron) so if we can keep the new kids from learning about slaves and call them "plantation workers" they will not have to explain why certain religions or races (Japanese internment) must not have all the rights of other citizens.
I agree with many that our society is too crude and amoral, I agree that abortion is "ending a life" and the government spends way to much money. I think these things need to be fixed. You just do not do it by eliminating civil liberties and adopting racist, fascist policies. It just takes to long to undo those kinds of policies. North Korea is still 10 years away from change. It took the Soviet Union 40 years to undo its policies.
Just call it what it is -- a terrorist plot
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Pull the head out!
I have lived a life of quiet ignorance related to lots of stuff. I just do not pay much attention some times. I am constantly amazed when my brothers and sisters tell me stories of mom and dad arguing or about mom talking to neighbors down the street. Mom and dad were friends with the parents of kids I knew while growing up but did not know they knew them. This cluelessness does not apply to all aspects of my life. I try to stay up with current events although I consciously do not follow the Kardasians.
Ok, the clarification of my clueless nature is over and you will not find anyone to disagree with my lack thereof. I do like to make very subtle jokes. I get sort of offended when people do not understand my jokes. They are important to me. I work in a place where free thought is greatly under-appreciated. Free thought and creative action is squashed into oblivion by desk instructions, witch hunt panels and an army of bored, feeble minded quality inspectors that could not recognize a good idea if it fell through the roof. Quality is not job one, it is paperwork, tons of paperwork. They would quite emphatically write a thirty page memo with charts, pictures and erroneous logic recommending that we instigate a policy to prevent good ideas from just falling from not only the ceiling but most obviously from the sky since after-all, the idea probably did not grow on the roof and work its way through the roof to eventually fall from the ceiling. A splinter panel would be assembled to make sure there are no good ideas growing on the roof. Great effort will be made to not stifle the original investigation and push the cost of the investigation up to something more ridiculous.
There is a group of people that will visit our facility and they have named the project CREAM, an acronym. Since the rule is that before you name a project, an acronym of some creativity must drive the project name. So since I know this project is not related to the Dairy Council, the acronym probably gives inference to something else. Now, I am fifty seven years old and most of the senior managers on projects that come to our facility are about my age also. For someone that is this age there is only one possibility of what CREAM refers to unless you are from Utah, Saudi Arabia or Krakatoa somewhere near Java.
So, I asked the people at the Operations Desk(they coordinate with visiting programs), who are in Rock and Roll bands on the week ends and about the same age as me why they did not tell me that Eric Clapton was going to be in the facility? NOTHING! I could hear tears fall on the carpet it was so quiet. Now I know it was subtle but come on guys, its "Cream", one of the most creative and important bands in our time. Our time, not our children's time but I bet my kids would have caught the joke and maybe even laughed.
Thinking this was a pretty good joke, I knew of a group of people that I considered free thinkers and that were about my same age. They only rarely had their heads up there ass. I set the joke up with the a story about a visiting program, blah, blah, blah, called Cream. I said, "When Eric Clapton gets here I am going to get his autograph". They laughed and promptly ran a Youtube video of "Strange Brew". I could feel the love in the room. I told them of the disaster at the Operations Desk and they shook their heads weepingly. "What is wrong with them?" they said. I know! Retirement cannot come too soon for them or me.
Ok, the clarification of my clueless nature is over and you will not find anyone to disagree with my lack thereof. I do like to make very subtle jokes. I get sort of offended when people do not understand my jokes. They are important to me. I work in a place where free thought is greatly under-appreciated. Free thought and creative action is squashed into oblivion by desk instructions, witch hunt panels and an army of bored, feeble minded quality inspectors that could not recognize a good idea if it fell through the roof. Quality is not job one, it is paperwork, tons of paperwork. They would quite emphatically write a thirty page memo with charts, pictures and erroneous logic recommending that we instigate a policy to prevent good ideas from just falling from not only the ceiling but most obviously from the sky since after-all, the idea probably did not grow on the roof and work its way through the roof to eventually fall from the ceiling. A splinter panel would be assembled to make sure there are no good ideas growing on the roof. Great effort will be made to not stifle the original investigation and push the cost of the investigation up to something more ridiculous.
There is a group of people that will visit our facility and they have named the project CREAM, an acronym. Since the rule is that before you name a project, an acronym of some creativity must drive the project name. So since I know this project is not related to the Dairy Council, the acronym probably gives inference to something else. Now, I am fifty seven years old and most of the senior managers on projects that come to our facility are about my age also. For someone that is this age there is only one possibility of what CREAM refers to unless you are from Utah, Saudi Arabia or Krakatoa somewhere near Java.
So, I asked the people at the Operations Desk(they coordinate with visiting programs), who are in Rock and Roll bands on the week ends and about the same age as me why they did not tell me that Eric Clapton was going to be in the facility? NOTHING! I could hear tears fall on the carpet it was so quiet. Now I know it was subtle but come on guys, its "Cream", one of the most creative and important bands in our time. Our time, not our children's time but I bet my kids would have caught the joke and maybe even laughed.
Thinking this was a pretty good joke, I knew of a group of people that I considered free thinkers and that were about my same age. They only rarely had their heads up there ass. I set the joke up with the a story about a visiting program, blah, blah, blah, called Cream. I said, "When Eric Clapton gets here I am going to get his autograph". They laughed and promptly ran a Youtube video of "Strange Brew". I could feel the love in the room. I told them of the disaster at the Operations Desk and they shook their heads weepingly. "What is wrong with them?" they said. I know! Retirement cannot come too soon for them or me.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Jeffery the Guard Pig
 |
| Jeffery on patrol! |
 |
| "I need a nap!" |
 |
| "Formation, get in formation!" |
 |
| "If I can see them before they see me........" |
 |
| "Surprise is mine" |
Monday, August 31, 2015
None of that
I am so so aggravated about everything. I do not think that is an overstatement or an exaggeration. Can a person really be aggravated about EVERY THING? The older I get the more I think it is possible.
Age can throw an entire bunch of new challenges your way. With eyesight fading and body parts aching that never ached before, the total number of grievances is increased before you even open your eyes in the morning to start another exasperating day. I woke up with a headache and realized I was having a dream about getting the hell beat out of me in a hotel bathroom. Symbolism aside, why was I in a hotel bathroom at all? While sleeping, I had a pain in my knee that made me jerk myself almost completely out of my bed. It was obviously a misfire of the nerves because as I was flying off the bed I was thinking "I wonder if narcotics would help prevent this flying out of bed shit?" My meth-head neighbors could enlighten me on a possible solution.
I think a shift in my attitude started last week at work when the Safety Committed was and still is suggesting that we initiate a "fatigue" evaluation form, more useless paperwork, for people who are going to be working overtime hours. They want to make sure we do not fall asleep on the drive home after working overtime and blame it on the company. Ninety three percent of the people where I work are resting with their heads up there butts seventy nine percent of the day anyway. The drive home is the most exciting physical and mental challenge of the day. We are not garbage collectors, who by the way in my city do not even get out of the truck anymore. They just scoop up the bin with a noisy pincher like thing and dump it in the back of the truck. We are not ditch diggers or Wichita linemen so sitting in the fetal position for another few hours is not taxing to anything. They pay us straight time anyway so the company could not give a shit what we are doing after hours except if they can show the lawyers that it looks like they care about us.
Grammar, now there is a real peach. I have used many words so far that have double letters in them. The "double g" thing always looks wrong. Then there is the "i before e" thing and the words you want to pluralize that end in n. Do you use "es" or just "s" or shit for that matter. There are words like "everything". Is it one or two words? With "butts" and "diggers" and "aggravation" all rushing to my head the instant I wake up and trying to write this rant down before I forget it, there is a possibility I am dropping wing nuts right and left. I just changed that last sentence because I could not remember if the word loose as in loosen or lose as in losing my mind was correct. I know now I do not give a fuck. It is not like anyone is going to be reading this blog. Well there is those two hackers from the Ukraine that seem to be trying to read this stuff.
And about waking up. Every morning when I wake up, a song streams into my head. This morning it was "Martha, My Dear". Yesterday it was "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly get your Adverbs here". Why is Grammar (double letters, shit) Rock getting in my brain? If that is not bad enough, last week I woke up to "Beat It". This went on for three days, and I do not even know the words to Beat It. I would be at the ATM trying to skim someones account and my head would be bobbing (shit) to the beat of Beat It making up words as I go. Sometimes my morning jingle is a TV commercial like "Zestfully clean". Aggravating!
The top of the list of things that are bothering me is the fact that really I do not have any friends. Who would want one that has joints that make more noise than a freight train and who runs around singing "zestfully clean" as he searches for his car in the mall parking lot. I have a pen pal (without looking it up this could be one word) that answers with one sentence answers, not much bonding going on there. I remember reading the letters of Ernest Hemingway and the journal letters of Emily Dickinson and thinking how great it would be to have pen pals like that. My friends are the people I work with and whenever I try to get together with one of them outside of work I get an answer like "I have to cut grass with my wife's vagina" or my son has a Cricket game in NJ that week end. My wife is not my best friend, well she is steadily climbing the ladder partially by default but also because increasingly she is the only one who puts up with my bullshit.
My children have finally reached the age where I barely recognize them and I guess it is supposed to be that way. They are a faint vision, a mere whiff of the little kids I laughed with and at All Those Years Ago. Oh no, another song in my head. The kids say and do things I do not approve of or I am sure I never hinted they do. They are grown and I have to hold my tongue sometimes. I need to refresh their memory that I am still their parent and I can say anything I want. It is there fault I hate kids. My grand-kids are getting the brunt of that new attitude. I am a grouchy old man. I am not apologizing (damn, one "p") for it. That is the way it is. I fully understand how a drug fiend of a drunk could abuse a child. I am inches and seconds away from it most of the time. If my resolve was weakened by drugs or my fortitude was dulled with alcohol, any child screaming "don't touch me" to his sibling for the three hundredth time would push me way past the edge of reality. I cannot take it much longer. I may have been a shinning example of parenting long ago but now I am a danger to myself and others. I tell them, "if you play by the street and you get hit by a car I am not taking you to the hospital, you can bleed all over somewhere else and wait for you mom to come get you, it is your choice."
At my residence I have seven horses, a pig, two ducks, two dogs, five chickens, four cats and one teenager. I had a hermit crab, Herman of course, but he ran away under the house. One of the cats went missing last month and I think the hermit crab got him. I found a giant discarded conch shell in the pasture. Yes, I hate animals. Actually, I love animals but something has to give. Jeffery the pig is the cutest thing even though he now weighs ninety pounds. He was raised in the house but now he lives on the back porch. He has a wading pool, a hovel and fifteen acres to roam in. Animals are everywhere and my grand-kids torment the shit out of all of them. The animals run for the hills when the kids come over. The cats are under the couch and in closets. My kids love animals but do not want to take care of them. I cannot walk in my yard without stepping on, in or around something. I cannot leave the door open or a barnyard animal my come in the house. The chickens and Jeffery like the air conditioning. The horses like the porch and the ducks are just nasty creatures and I wish they would run the cats off. The dogs are useless barking fart machines. Three barks a fart and a bark. That means the mail man is coming or the Nazi three houses up is flying his plane again.
I am missing three window screens. They are metal and they are not ambulatory. I could see one disappearing because of the wind or the cat pushing one out but not three. There is some kind of conspiracy concerning window screens. Why I do not know. It is a devious and dark thing I tell you. I am missing a machete, a saws-all, a catcher's glove and pogo stick. If you see a crazed maniac boinging down the road on a pogo stick swinging a machete with a tree trimmer in his belt yelling "strike three you are out" he stole all of that stuff from my house and he needs analysis because the machete is dull, the battery on the saws-all is dead, the pogo stick veers to the left and the glove has a hole in it. Ask him about my widow screens. Ass hole.
I have no money, no sex, no prospects for either, a mortgage, an old car, animal shit all over the place. I do get fresh eggs from the chickens but my family will not eat them because they taste funny and it was my idea to eat them in the first place. If it was my idea to go somewhere, eat anything, do anything, fix anything the answer is no thanks. My son says, Dad, can you go buy me a milk shake? No son, I can make you one with the ice cream we have in the freezer. No dad, it will not taste the same. My wife acts like I am trying to poison her. No dear, even though I am hungry, it looks good I just do not want that right now, did you spit in it? No, I did put hemlock in it and I found something in the back of the fridge that I used for blue cheese dressing.
There are actually more things to be aggravated at than I can even write down or remember at this time. I wish I could say this venting helped but it really did not.
Age can throw an entire bunch of new challenges your way. With eyesight fading and body parts aching that never ached before, the total number of grievances is increased before you even open your eyes in the morning to start another exasperating day. I woke up with a headache and realized I was having a dream about getting the hell beat out of me in a hotel bathroom. Symbolism aside, why was I in a hotel bathroom at all? While sleeping, I had a pain in my knee that made me jerk myself almost completely out of my bed. It was obviously a misfire of the nerves because as I was flying off the bed I was thinking "I wonder if narcotics would help prevent this flying out of bed shit?" My meth-head neighbors could enlighten me on a possible solution.
I think a shift in my attitude started last week at work when the Safety Committed was and still is suggesting that we initiate a "fatigue" evaluation form, more useless paperwork, for people who are going to be working overtime hours. They want to make sure we do not fall asleep on the drive home after working overtime and blame it on the company. Ninety three percent of the people where I work are resting with their heads up there butts seventy nine percent of the day anyway. The drive home is the most exciting physical and mental challenge of the day. We are not garbage collectors, who by the way in my city do not even get out of the truck anymore. They just scoop up the bin with a noisy pincher like thing and dump it in the back of the truck. We are not ditch diggers or Wichita linemen so sitting in the fetal position for another few hours is not taxing to anything. They pay us straight time anyway so the company could not give a shit what we are doing after hours except if they can show the lawyers that it looks like they care about us.
Grammar, now there is a real peach. I have used many words so far that have double letters in them. The "double g" thing always looks wrong. Then there is the "i before e" thing and the words you want to pluralize that end in n. Do you use "es" or just "s" or shit for that matter. There are words like "everything". Is it one or two words? With "butts" and "diggers" and "aggravation" all rushing to my head the instant I wake up and trying to write this rant down before I forget it, there is a possibility I am dropping wing nuts right and left. I just changed that last sentence because I could not remember if the word loose as in loosen or lose as in losing my mind was correct. I know now I do not give a fuck. It is not like anyone is going to be reading this blog. Well there is those two hackers from the Ukraine that seem to be trying to read this stuff.
And about waking up. Every morning when I wake up, a song streams into my head. This morning it was "Martha, My Dear". Yesterday it was "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly get your Adverbs here". Why is Grammar (double letters, shit) Rock getting in my brain? If that is not bad enough, last week I woke up to "Beat It". This went on for three days, and I do not even know the words to Beat It. I would be at the ATM trying to skim someones account and my head would be bobbing (shit) to the beat of Beat It making up words as I go. Sometimes my morning jingle is a TV commercial like "Zestfully clean". Aggravating!
The top of the list of things that are bothering me is the fact that really I do not have any friends. Who would want one that has joints that make more noise than a freight train and who runs around singing "zestfully clean" as he searches for his car in the mall parking lot. I have a pen pal (without looking it up this could be one word) that answers with one sentence answers, not much bonding going on there. I remember reading the letters of Ernest Hemingway and the journal letters of Emily Dickinson and thinking how great it would be to have pen pals like that. My friends are the people I work with and whenever I try to get together with one of them outside of work I get an answer like "I have to cut grass with my wife's vagina" or my son has a Cricket game in NJ that week end. My wife is not my best friend, well she is steadily climbing the ladder partially by default but also because increasingly she is the only one who puts up with my bullshit.
My children have finally reached the age where I barely recognize them and I guess it is supposed to be that way. They are a faint vision, a mere whiff of the little kids I laughed with and at All Those Years Ago. Oh no, another song in my head. The kids say and do things I do not approve of or I am sure I never hinted they do. They are grown and I have to hold my tongue sometimes. I need to refresh their memory that I am still their parent and I can say anything I want. It is there fault I hate kids. My grand-kids are getting the brunt of that new attitude. I am a grouchy old man. I am not apologizing (damn, one "p") for it. That is the way it is. I fully understand how a drug fiend of a drunk could abuse a child. I am inches and seconds away from it most of the time. If my resolve was weakened by drugs or my fortitude was dulled with alcohol, any child screaming "don't touch me" to his sibling for the three hundredth time would push me way past the edge of reality. I cannot take it much longer. I may have been a shinning example of parenting long ago but now I am a danger to myself and others. I tell them, "if you play by the street and you get hit by a car I am not taking you to the hospital, you can bleed all over somewhere else and wait for you mom to come get you, it is your choice."
At my residence I have seven horses, a pig, two ducks, two dogs, five chickens, four cats and one teenager. I had a hermit crab, Herman of course, but he ran away under the house. One of the cats went missing last month and I think the hermit crab got him. I found a giant discarded conch shell in the pasture. Yes, I hate animals. Actually, I love animals but something has to give. Jeffery the pig is the cutest thing even though he now weighs ninety pounds. He was raised in the house but now he lives on the back porch. He has a wading pool, a hovel and fifteen acres to roam in. Animals are everywhere and my grand-kids torment the shit out of all of them. The animals run for the hills when the kids come over. The cats are under the couch and in closets. My kids love animals but do not want to take care of them. I cannot walk in my yard without stepping on, in or around something. I cannot leave the door open or a barnyard animal my come in the house. The chickens and Jeffery like the air conditioning. The horses like the porch and the ducks are just nasty creatures and I wish they would run the cats off. The dogs are useless barking fart machines. Three barks a fart and a bark. That means the mail man is coming or the Nazi three houses up is flying his plane again.
I am missing three window screens. They are metal and they are not ambulatory. I could see one disappearing because of the wind or the cat pushing one out but not three. There is some kind of conspiracy concerning window screens. Why I do not know. It is a devious and dark thing I tell you. I am missing a machete, a saws-all, a catcher's glove and pogo stick. If you see a crazed maniac boinging down the road on a pogo stick swinging a machete with a tree trimmer in his belt yelling "strike three you are out" he stole all of that stuff from my house and he needs analysis because the machete is dull, the battery on the saws-all is dead, the pogo stick veers to the left and the glove has a hole in it. Ask him about my widow screens. Ass hole.
I have no money, no sex, no prospects for either, a mortgage, an old car, animal shit all over the place. I do get fresh eggs from the chickens but my family will not eat them because they taste funny and it was my idea to eat them in the first place. If it was my idea to go somewhere, eat anything, do anything, fix anything the answer is no thanks. My son says, Dad, can you go buy me a milk shake? No son, I can make you one with the ice cream we have in the freezer. No dad, it will not taste the same. My wife acts like I am trying to poison her. No dear, even though I am hungry, it looks good I just do not want that right now, did you spit in it? No, I did put hemlock in it and I found something in the back of the fridge that I used for blue cheese dressing.
There are actually more things to be aggravated at than I can even write down or remember at this time. I wish I could say this venting helped but it really did not.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Grocery List
I have a grocery list on my IPhone6. This is the list I have created over about three weeks. I keep adding to it and never delete anything. It is a representation of what is required in my household. Some of these items I never purchase or receive but I keep them on the list. I am cheap and frugal but mostly cheap so my family instructs me on the exact nature of their needs are for food. I tend to pick the cheapest in many cases and they explain at the meeting "that will not do".
Pizza -- This can be frozen or fresh made.
cat food -- Various types.
nibbles -- Whatever I think the humans and/or animals will like as a snack.
corn -- Any type but usually includes cream style and frozen.
Peas -- Same as corn.
blowjob -- I do not expect to get this at the store or anywhere else.
Ibuprofen
Seltzer water -- Any flavor, no sugar.
Mixed fruit, canned -- Mostly for Jeffery the pig.
Garbage bags
Bananas -- There is nothing better than a solid, slightly ripe, stiff banana in the morning.
Coffee cream -- Specific type.
Bug spray -- For prevention of various mosquito borne diseases for humans and Jeffery the pig.
Chips
Sausage -- I like mild Italian style. My family thinks it tastes funny.
Breakfast sausage -- No it is not a duplicate, silly me. It has to be fully cooked and processed pseudo sausage. If not my family says it tastes funny.
Dog food -- Purina One puppy. We do not have a puppy.
Pig food -- Mostly a catch all for breakfast oatmeal or anything like that on sale.
Ice cream
Donuts -- mostly powdered sugar cake donuts.
Potatoes
Milk -- Cow and Almond because we can.
Chips
Tomatoes
Lettuce
Ham -- I like the Black Forest type. It brings back memories of carnage and barbarism while I tear into the packaging.
Chicken -- This is cheap ass perpetually frozen chicken thighs that are boiled and given to the dogs. It is cheaper than any dog snack.
Cheese -- I want to be a cheese maker.
Meatballs -- I have found a brand that with a little help are as good as they need to be.
Sugar -- A fine symbol of capitalism that is holding its own in the every changing diet world. With modified corn syrup losing sway with the "civilized world", sugar is making a comeback.
Tea -- This is for ice tea with sugar in it.
Butter -- Also making a comeback in the civilized world.
Candy -- Kit Kat and Starburst
Bread -- Special, more expensive bread that will take longer to go bad because although someone wanted it, sandwiches are so not interesting.
Pasta -- Now the trend has shifted from egg noodles to Ditalini. I do not guess I should tell them it means "little fingers".
Soup -- This is a hot button of resentment. It has to be beef consume for the ditalini. Beef broth will not due even though beef broth is half the price. Any other soup must be approved by my son and wife to meet the strict requirements at the bi-weekly "You are a lousy shopper meeting". "It must be something they want to eat at the given time they think they want soup". It is really very simple. I will fail.
Salami -- It must be "hard" salami. I grew up in Florida in the 60's. I figured there was on type of salami, one type of milk, and one type of hurricanes. I guess it is like the banana.
Fabric softener -- The most expensive kind please. I tried to explain that "please" does not help.
Suffering -- I do not pay to receive this but it must jump in the basket because as soon as I get back from the store I start suffering. Misery lives under my house and come out when Suffering needs help.
Spaghetti -- Silly me, I again thought there were only three types of pasta, spaghetti, macaroni and the big round stuff.
Cocoanut Milk
Syrup
Cilantro
Shampoo -- Do not get me going again.
Soap
Fix-a-flat -- What a great invention.
Tennis balls
Goat milk -- For when Jeffery was a baby.
Pizza -- This can be frozen or fresh made.
cat food -- Various types.
nibbles -- Whatever I think the humans and/or animals will like as a snack.
corn -- Any type but usually includes cream style and frozen.
Peas -- Same as corn.
blowjob -- I do not expect to get this at the store or anywhere else.
Ibuprofen
Seltzer water -- Any flavor, no sugar.
Mixed fruit, canned -- Mostly for Jeffery the pig.
Garbage bags
Bananas -- There is nothing better than a solid, slightly ripe, stiff banana in the morning.
Coffee cream -- Specific type.
Bug spray -- For prevention of various mosquito borne diseases for humans and Jeffery the pig.
Chips
Sausage -- I like mild Italian style. My family thinks it tastes funny.
Breakfast sausage -- No it is not a duplicate, silly me. It has to be fully cooked and processed pseudo sausage. If not my family says it tastes funny.
Dog food -- Purina One puppy. We do not have a puppy.
Pig food -- Mostly a catch all for breakfast oatmeal or anything like that on sale.
Ice cream
Donuts -- mostly powdered sugar cake donuts.
Potatoes
Milk -- Cow and Almond because we can.
Chips
Tomatoes
Lettuce
Ham -- I like the Black Forest type. It brings back memories of carnage and barbarism while I tear into the packaging.
Chicken -- This is cheap ass perpetually frozen chicken thighs that are boiled and given to the dogs. It is cheaper than any dog snack.
Cheese -- I want to be a cheese maker.
Meatballs -- I have found a brand that with a little help are as good as they need to be.
Sugar -- A fine symbol of capitalism that is holding its own in the every changing diet world. With modified corn syrup losing sway with the "civilized world", sugar is making a comeback.
Tea -- This is for ice tea with sugar in it.
Butter -- Also making a comeback in the civilized world.
Candy -- Kit Kat and Starburst
Bread -- Special, more expensive bread that will take longer to go bad because although someone wanted it, sandwiches are so not interesting.
Pasta -- Now the trend has shifted from egg noodles to Ditalini. I do not guess I should tell them it means "little fingers".
Soup -- This is a hot button of resentment. It has to be beef consume for the ditalini. Beef broth will not due even though beef broth is half the price. Any other soup must be approved by my son and wife to meet the strict requirements at the bi-weekly "You are a lousy shopper meeting". "It must be something they want to eat at the given time they think they want soup". It is really very simple. I will fail.
Salami -- It must be "hard" salami. I grew up in Florida in the 60's. I figured there was on type of salami, one type of milk, and one type of hurricanes. I guess it is like the banana.
Fabric softener -- The most expensive kind please. I tried to explain that "please" does not help.
Suffering -- I do not pay to receive this but it must jump in the basket because as soon as I get back from the store I start suffering. Misery lives under my house and come out when Suffering needs help.
Spaghetti -- Silly me, I again thought there were only three types of pasta, spaghetti, macaroni and the big round stuff.
Cocoanut Milk
Syrup
Cilantro
Shampoo -- Do not get me going again.
Soap
Fix-a-flat -- What a great invention.
Tennis balls
Goat milk -- For when Jeffery was a baby.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Delusions and goals
"A well-formed delusion can go a long way to aid in achieving your goals." Who said that. I did but I probably read something like it somewhere, sometime.
It got me thinking though. I know a lady that told herself constantly that she would become a veterinarian some day. She was a bit of an air head and we all have dreams and I said to myself, "Good for you lady with the nice butt". She is now a veterinarian and I am doing the same thing I was doing back when she visioned her dreams. Not that I am complaining about how many of my dreams were not realized yet. I can only blame myself.
I know that in my past, any goal desired in which I drove my heart and soul toward was achieved and with quite nice results. There have been far too few goals that I went after with the kind of zeal that was needed to succeed. I have acquaintances that still just seem to fall into shit and come out smelling like a rose. I cannot believe it is intelligence that get them through it mainly because they do not have much. It takes very little effort to make a wrong turn and falling down a rabbit hole is usually fatal.
My perception of the entire issue must be the problem. That is where delusion comes in. Maybe my delusions are just not framed correctly. Maybe they believe their delusions more deeply than I believe mine. I can be quit the skeptic and naive. I would be a good politician. I know a guy that can get a job doing anything from the highly technical to the mundane. His job mowing the highway lead him to being in charge of a major labor contract for a government agency. He was arrogant and a giant tool. His delusion was that he was something special and he could convince everyone of it.
Some goals are never verbalized and can still be realized. Things like raising decent children or being a person to be respected are never really talked about but in the end seem very important. I cannot imagine anyone not having dreams of a better life for their kids when they are born. I know the sidetracks life takes while trying to raise brainless crumb-snatchers and at times it too much to take for all people. This again is where the delusion comes in. I was expected to be a college graduate and a decent person. It was my parent's dream that they somehow placed in my brain and made it my dream.
What is the difference between a dream and a delusion? The difference is just a nuance. Society will determine which it is in the long term.
It got me thinking though. I know a lady that told herself constantly that she would become a veterinarian some day. She was a bit of an air head and we all have dreams and I said to myself, "Good for you lady with the nice butt". She is now a veterinarian and I am doing the same thing I was doing back when she visioned her dreams. Not that I am complaining about how many of my dreams were not realized yet. I can only blame myself.
I know that in my past, any goal desired in which I drove my heart and soul toward was achieved and with quite nice results. There have been far too few goals that I went after with the kind of zeal that was needed to succeed. I have acquaintances that still just seem to fall into shit and come out smelling like a rose. I cannot believe it is intelligence that get them through it mainly because they do not have much. It takes very little effort to make a wrong turn and falling down a rabbit hole is usually fatal.
My perception of the entire issue must be the problem. That is where delusion comes in. Maybe my delusions are just not framed correctly. Maybe they believe their delusions more deeply than I believe mine. I can be quit the skeptic and naive. I would be a good politician. I know a guy that can get a job doing anything from the highly technical to the mundane. His job mowing the highway lead him to being in charge of a major labor contract for a government agency. He was arrogant and a giant tool. His delusion was that he was something special and he could convince everyone of it.
Some goals are never verbalized and can still be realized. Things like raising decent children or being a person to be respected are never really talked about but in the end seem very important. I cannot imagine anyone not having dreams of a better life for their kids when they are born. I know the sidetracks life takes while trying to raise brainless crumb-snatchers and at times it too much to take for all people. This again is where the delusion comes in. I was expected to be a college graduate and a decent person. It was my parent's dream that they somehow placed in my brain and made it my dream.
What is the difference between a dream and a delusion? The difference is just a nuance. Society will determine which it is in the long term.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Status on Jeffery
In case you are new to this blog, Jeffery is a pig. He is four months old and has been living quite happily in my house since we obtained him from a hunter. What is most interesting about that day was that when I sent the initial photo to my wife she said "I have to have him". As with most things with my wife, children, couches, husbands and pets soon obtain the title of "dirt generating pains in the ass".
Jeffery is all pig. His skin is a magnet for dirt. He has no discernible figure or body shape aside from a torpedo and he acts like one. His neck is fatter than his butt. His nose is this truly remarkably soft dirt modulating jackhammer. He has the sweetest eyes and squeaks when you scratch him under his arm. He thinks he is a dog which is sad because my dogs think they are humans so I am not sure what they are teaching him. He chases the balls when we throw them, he first runs toward a barking dog and then runs away scurrying under the porch and stick his nose out the steps.
The other day, Jeffery and Pumpernik, one of our dogs with a broken leg went adventuring out in the swamp. They were gone about an hour and I figured one or both of them were eaten by an alligator or a python but Pumpernik came slogging though the ditch covered in mud and dehydrated. I tried to clean him up before my wife saw him but he darted upstairs to jump on the bed and show mom how much fun he had in the swamp. Jeffery came strolling in about ten minutes later. I scolded him and told him to stay in the yard while making him get in his wading pool to cool off. It was his first adventure into the wild and it was wild. I knew their adventure was over and mine was beginning when my wife started screaming about the dirt.Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Getting to the Point
I have to be careful with this blog and I have to be careful the next few days. Why? Well it is my attitude. It is poor. For those that know me (or think they know me) this is not a surprise. I noticed last week that I was a little short with the police officer that was monitoring my traffic habits when he asked me to "slow down" while going through an abandoned construction area on the week end. I explained that I "was slowing down" and he said something about something which I did not listen to. At that point, every ounce in my body wanted to tell him that I did not get up this morning, drive in to work at three AM to actively give a shit whether he thought I was slowing down fast enough. It did not help that he was wearing John Lennon style glasses and had an orange face like a pumpkin without a tan. I am fairly sure that someone who violates lifestyle dress codes as he did is not going to cut me much slack if I insult him.
One of the other reasons I have to be careful with this blog is because if it is true that companies screen employee web info, I most likely will offend my employer and I need to work for a while longer so I can pay off my house before they put the lid on my coffin. It will be about the same time as I figure it. I told my family that if the city or anyone takes my dead body away then they own it and they pay for burial. I am not. No final expense life insurance here. Nope, Nada, Zip, Huey. I have worked for good companies and bad companies. The simple difference is that good companies value their employees and bad companies say that their employees are valuable assets. They mean that employees are the most expensive part of the operation and are on the debit side of the equation. Bad companies, in spite of efforts and expenditures are poorly organized and misdirected.
A third reason I have to be careful is that I am like snowball rolling down a hill and my verbal outbursts will get me in trouble. I can tell I am rolling and it is possible I could open my mouth and let an unfortunate criticism escape. People do not understand my criticism. I have ill will for almost no people on this earth so do not take what I say all that seriously. There is that fathead at the baseball field but my dislike for him is more for a type of person that he exemplifies than for him. There are "children" in general. Now, I love my children and I love my grandchildren but I like the idea of children as an entity less and less and see no good reason for them at all. If I want to be aggravated by animals that make messes and leave waste all over the place, suck up loose change like a vacuum cleaner, do absolutely nothing and live way past the time they are cute then I will get a fucking horse. I can make this statement because my wife has horses. We actually let other unbalanced people keep their horses on our property for rent which they assume is optional. "I am going to be a little short this month so I can only pay you a percentage of what we agreed to." Go tell that to Napoleon. I am rolling faster.
OK, the point is this. In a world where really everyone is just trying to get through the moment, the hour or the day without screwing up too badly or sinning too boldly, why don't people take the most direct path, the simplest route or the most effective solution to reach that end. Why must we have mountains of paperwork and red tape that substitutes for safe working environments. Why must we ignore love and peace accepting violence and wars instead. I recently went on a vacation and really enjoyed it. I did not wear a life preserver, I did not have to deal with any children, I broke a few rules and minor laws but started no wars. I slept when I was tired and just to prove a point, I slept when I was not tired. I did not avoid any conversations or awkward situations. I was the quintessential me for three days. I need a break.
One of the other reasons I have to be careful with this blog is because if it is true that companies screen employee web info, I most likely will offend my employer and I need to work for a while longer so I can pay off my house before they put the lid on my coffin. It will be about the same time as I figure it. I told my family that if the city or anyone takes my dead body away then they own it and they pay for burial. I am not. No final expense life insurance here. Nope, Nada, Zip, Huey. I have worked for good companies and bad companies. The simple difference is that good companies value their employees and bad companies say that their employees are valuable assets. They mean that employees are the most expensive part of the operation and are on the debit side of the equation. Bad companies, in spite of efforts and expenditures are poorly organized and misdirected.
A third reason I have to be careful is that I am like snowball rolling down a hill and my verbal outbursts will get me in trouble. I can tell I am rolling and it is possible I could open my mouth and let an unfortunate criticism escape. People do not understand my criticism. I have ill will for almost no people on this earth so do not take what I say all that seriously. There is that fathead at the baseball field but my dislike for him is more for a type of person that he exemplifies than for him. There are "children" in general. Now, I love my children and I love my grandchildren but I like the idea of children as an entity less and less and see no good reason for them at all. If I want to be aggravated by animals that make messes and leave waste all over the place, suck up loose change like a vacuum cleaner, do absolutely nothing and live way past the time they are cute then I will get a fucking horse. I can make this statement because my wife has horses. We actually let other unbalanced people keep their horses on our property for rent which they assume is optional. "I am going to be a little short this month so I can only pay you a percentage of what we agreed to." Go tell that to Napoleon. I am rolling faster.
OK, the point is this. In a world where really everyone is just trying to get through the moment, the hour or the day without screwing up too badly or sinning too boldly, why don't people take the most direct path, the simplest route or the most effective solution to reach that end. Why must we have mountains of paperwork and red tape that substitutes for safe working environments. Why must we ignore love and peace accepting violence and wars instead. I recently went on a vacation and really enjoyed it. I did not wear a life preserver, I did not have to deal with any children, I broke a few rules and minor laws but started no wars. I slept when I was tired and just to prove a point, I slept when I was not tired. I did not avoid any conversations or awkward situations. I was the quintessential me for three days. I need a break.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Fathers Day
Last week end it was "Fathers Day". Some strange things happened on that day that made me feel like an inadequate father and a bad son. I would just prefer not to be singled out for any praises anytime unless a ton of money is attached to the praise. That has yet to happen and probably will not.
The "children", the people I work with every day at my place of employment decided that I needed some attention when I come in first thing in the morning. There is a fifty yard walk from the parking lot to the entrance to the building. Our offices are on the second floor and the children have taken to opening the windows and applauding and cheering for me as I walk to the building. It is quite embarrassing. I now circle around to the back of the building and enter that way. I like to be appreciated but not applauded, like I said unless they are throwing money out the window as they cheer. I never feel completely secure and deserving with accolades of a kind.
Now, Fathers Day. Is it Father's day, a possessive kind of thing or is it Fathers day, a plural kind of thing? I am not even sure I understand what I just asked or if it is a question at all. I ended it with a question mark just in case. Regardless, an old friend of mine, God rest his soul used to tell me, "you never know what your raised until they are grown!" I assume most people have high, noble hopes for their children when they are born. Soon life starts getting in the way and sacrifices are made to your moral fiber and you have to pay for milk and diapers and hope for the rent. Your children's nurturing is sacrificed for overtime to pay the electric bill. My kids say nice things on this day and I believe they are sincere.
There are the opportunities for growth that I did not let the children experience and the poor situational choices that I left them to make in several instances that haunt me during the sincere praise. Fathers day is like a yearly review of my life and frankly I am getting tired of it. Too much examination of my life is like watching Fonzie jump the shark over and over again. It is like watching someone make sausage with a hand grinder. More leftover shit meat, more spices and more grinding, a ceaseless grinding. I did some things good and bad that I know they remember. I guess as they grown older they too will reflect yearly on those things and maybe that is the sincerity that they now show.
As for a bad son, I was not. I was a unique and difficult son. Life was a fog and yet clear to me. My father could not understand that. Mom said she did but she was just being a mom. I wish my father was still around to aggravate. The confused look on his face when I confounded him was priceless. I never really did it on purpose. Half way through whatever nonsense I was involved in I would think about my dad and imagine his consternation. He let me be me and just tried to guide me through the maze. And I always got through the maze. I was clueless but he kept my feet moving and suddenly I was in a clearing looking for another adventure.
I recommend that very few people procreate. It is just not worth it. The village has no idea how to raise children. The government is neglectful of children. Being brought into this world is a highly unfair and spiteful thing to do to a child. Even the people that I think could be good parents should reconsider. Raising children is too much work and it never ends. Worrying about kids and trying to set a good example in a world of terrible examples is a lifetime sentence of self examination. I hate it. I want to fly off into a rage against childbirth. To borrow and mangle a paraphrase from Cal Ripken's father, "Perfect parenting makes perfect children". Bull shit. There is no such thing as a perfect parent or a perfect child. Well, I lost my point somewhere. Maybe not.
The "children", the people I work with every day at my place of employment decided that I needed some attention when I come in first thing in the morning. There is a fifty yard walk from the parking lot to the entrance to the building. Our offices are on the second floor and the children have taken to opening the windows and applauding and cheering for me as I walk to the building. It is quite embarrassing. I now circle around to the back of the building and enter that way. I like to be appreciated but not applauded, like I said unless they are throwing money out the window as they cheer. I never feel completely secure and deserving with accolades of a kind.
Now, Fathers Day. Is it Father's day, a possessive kind of thing or is it Fathers day, a plural kind of thing? I am not even sure I understand what I just asked or if it is a question at all. I ended it with a question mark just in case. Regardless, an old friend of mine, God rest his soul used to tell me, "you never know what your raised until they are grown!" I assume most people have high, noble hopes for their children when they are born. Soon life starts getting in the way and sacrifices are made to your moral fiber and you have to pay for milk and diapers and hope for the rent. Your children's nurturing is sacrificed for overtime to pay the electric bill. My kids say nice things on this day and I believe they are sincere.
There are the opportunities for growth that I did not let the children experience and the poor situational choices that I left them to make in several instances that haunt me during the sincere praise. Fathers day is like a yearly review of my life and frankly I am getting tired of it. Too much examination of my life is like watching Fonzie jump the shark over and over again. It is like watching someone make sausage with a hand grinder. More leftover shit meat, more spices and more grinding, a ceaseless grinding. I did some things good and bad that I know they remember. I guess as they grown older they too will reflect yearly on those things and maybe that is the sincerity that they now show.
As for a bad son, I was not. I was a unique and difficult son. Life was a fog and yet clear to me. My father could not understand that. Mom said she did but she was just being a mom. I wish my father was still around to aggravate. The confused look on his face when I confounded him was priceless. I never really did it on purpose. Half way through whatever nonsense I was involved in I would think about my dad and imagine his consternation. He let me be me and just tried to guide me through the maze. And I always got through the maze. I was clueless but he kept my feet moving and suddenly I was in a clearing looking for another adventure.
I recommend that very few people procreate. It is just not worth it. The village has no idea how to raise children. The government is neglectful of children. Being brought into this world is a highly unfair and spiteful thing to do to a child. Even the people that I think could be good parents should reconsider. Raising children is too much work and it never ends. Worrying about kids and trying to set a good example in a world of terrible examples is a lifetime sentence of self examination. I hate it. I want to fly off into a rage against childbirth. To borrow and mangle a paraphrase from Cal Ripken's father, "Perfect parenting makes perfect children". Bull shit. There is no such thing as a perfect parent or a perfect child. Well, I lost my point somewhere. Maybe not.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
New Pig
 |
| Pumpernick |
 |
| Jeffery |
Yesterday, Jeffery became a barrow, a pig with no testicles. He was very well behaved at the veterinary office. Which is surprising because is you just want to snuggle him, he throws a fit and spit. Anyway, he is walking kind of slow and careful today. It is hoped that with less testosterone he will not exhibit some of the less desirable secondary sex characteristics like stinking up the place, aggressive behavior toward everything, gouging things with the fangs and wandering lust. We had a wild pig a few years ago, Mr. Piggles, and all he wanted to do was eat and have sex with the black lawn tractor. I looked out the window and saw my wife standing on top of the fence rail with Mr. Piggles doing his best to "jump" up and get her. That same day, he went on a walk with me, my pistol and a shovel. It was a like a long walk off a short pier.
Jeffery loves sleeping in the house and playing with Pumpernick. He likes sleeping next to my chair while I am watching Andy Griffith reruns. He likes cheese and chicken vienna sausages. So do I. I do not like cheese inside of hotdogs though. I have never seen cheese act like that anyway. ps. I have no idea why the pictures are sideways and I do not know how to fix it. Jeffery is 21 pounds and maybe twelve weeks old. "That'll do pig".
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