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.

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.

New Pig

Pumpernick

Jeffery

I recently became the owner of  a very young pig.  We named him Jeffery.  The meaning of the americanized word "pig" is becoming clearer all the time.  He is a swine but he is also a pig.  He eats like a, well, he eats like a pig.  He is growing very fast.  He eats like I remember eating when I was young.  The faster I ate, the chances are the more I would get.  He eats every bowl of food like he has not had anything to eat for weeks or even hours but he eats like there is twelve other pigs trying to steal his food.  I made the mistake of dropping some grapes on the floor and the dogs and Jeffery started  fighting over a grape.  The dogs do not even like grapes.  Pumpernick likes to hold them in his mouth only to take them in the other room and spit them out.  Fudge just sniffs them.  Jeffery smashes them with his nose and then eats them.  To a pig, food tastes better after is is smashed with its nose.  It reminds me of John Belushi in Animal House with the jello stuff. 

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".