In Case You've Wondered

My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.

If you're here for the stories, I started another blog:

One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.

I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.

Monday, September 30, 2013

This Is Awesome

Over the last month, over 8500 visitors perused my blog. That's awesome and I really don't know what to write but thanks.

 I know some were bots, but I'm thanking them too, so I can get them to come back. If I catch enough, I have some leaves to be raked and I'll withhold their electron pudding until they finish.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Construction Mentality

I've been in the construction industry for almost four decades. Every day, when I go to work, I have the thought I'm working my way out of a job. For every completion, there's an ending, which may not lead to another beginning. I accept this and manage my life accordingly.

So, when the possibility of some government workers being laid off is perceived as a "disaster", I don't have that perception. Every endeavor in life has a purpose and need. If the purpose and need are only whimsical in importance, the end is needed and more important. Unwarranted purpose is waste and waste is not good.


I've been hearing that word a lot over the last few days in reference to who gets the blame if the Federal Government is partially shut down due to the disagreement about funding the Un-affordable Healthcare Act.

Historically,  a bunch of greedy people had their asses handed to them for far less intrusion, taxation and lack of representation. That's the historical part they need to think about. Those that are paying the bills are not happy and they're becoming more angry daily.

Friday, September 27, 2013

Word's Fail Me

I was on a job two hours away from home today, so I had a lot of time to think, listen to the radio and realize how memories are dredged by a song.

For whatever reason, the songs on the radio pulled me back and the exact feelings of when I first heard them. Helpless, I couldn't resist being dragged into the past.

Words now fail me. I can't describe the feelings and how profound the evening drive became.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

It's Time to Get Busy

Yesterday, I appeared before a judge, verified my mother's will, took an oath and received an official piece of paper that gives me authority to complete my mother's wishes. While I knew this moment would arrive, yesterday was the final requirement before completing my task.

I'll gather all her worth, take care of any debts, file all important pieces of paper, sell all that's not accepted as part of an inheritance and eventually disperse all that's left to the listed heirs in her will.

It's time to get busy. How this effects my blog will remain to be seen. Hopefully, the effect will be less than I expect, which is most of my time will be consumed by many things.

We'll see. If I'm not here much, you know where I am.

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

It Warmed My Heart

Back in July, I wrote about a new neighbor. After a few days, I didn't see him around and started worrying. Although I wasn't there to see him during the day, I figured I'd at least see him.

I was at my mother's house early one Saturday morning, out in front and not paying attention, when I spotted Tripod next door. I squatted, held out my hand and called to him. He looked at me for a few moments, and then to my surprise, he warily worked his way over to me and eventually came to within arms reach.

I cautiously reached and gently scratched the top of his head. Becoming bolder, I not only scratched his head, but he allowed me to scratch his side too. He stayed for a few moments, then bounded away, bounded back, allowed me to scratch him again, then ran about for a few seconds; obviously playing.

He came back for one more scratch and then was off to next door. I left him alone and went into my mother's house; pleased and honored.

Since then, I've seen him a few times. Watching how he interacts with neighbors, I've determined they've all befriended him, give him food and a little scratch when he lets them.

Yesterday, as I passed one of the neighbor's houses, I noticed the woman was vigorously scratching a little dog that was laying on his side. The dog was stretched out, wagging his tail and obviously enjoying the attention. It was Tripod, enjoying the scratch and content.

Tripod, as far as I can tell, is now the neighborhood's dog. Nobody is the owner, yet everybody takes responsibility in keeping him fed and with water.

Tripod, probably from his time being abused, doesn't wander far from the few houses he calls home, keeps a low profile and is hardly noticeable, unless you really look for him

From my encounter, I'm thinking his eyesight is impaired, which only makes his loss of one leg sadder. Hopefully, his trust will eventually lead to allowing the next door neighbor to take him to the vet, which is his plan. Until then, he's a free spirit and the dog of the neighborhood.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Sooner or Later...

...everyone that's alive at this time, will find they know someone that was denied treatment for a medical condition because some government bureaucrat made the decision.

I know some are thinking: "But insurance companies deny treatment all the time. What's the difference?"

Insurance companies aren't exempt from litigation. That, and their coverage limits are spelled out by a contract. The government doesn't have this distinction. With a broad stroke of a pen, the government can change your coverage, increase costs, deny anything they want and you have to ask permission to sue for damages.

How will this play out? First to suffer most are the older folks. They're the easiest target and will die in startling numbers, since they usually have the most health problems, limited resources and little strength to fight a system that is run by people that are isolated from those they manage. With a monetary cap on medical procedures, or an arbitrary decision by administrative personnel, death is a certainty and those suffering can do nothing about it. If they don't like it, they can write their Congressional representative, who has all their medical costs paid by the taxpayers. If you think they care, look at who voted Obamacare into law, without even reading the legislation.

Next will be those that the government decides are high risks. Diabetes? A little overweight? The government will decide you aren't eligible for some treatments, due to your lifestyle. After you die, they have more money for whatever they decide to spend it on. They don't have to allow it to be spent for medical coverage, since they'll control the insurance companies that are on board, will dictate how the coverage is allocated and decide on their cut of the revenues.

Children with risky congenital problems will be considered a liability. I don't think they'll let them suffer, but they damn sure won't let them live - if they're even allowed to be born. High risk pregnancies will be considered unfeasible, and abortion the option.

Insurance companies, since the premiums will now be well beyond what people can afford, will go out of business and the government will get all the money now paid in health insurance. The result will be a single payer system, which means government officials have complete access to your health records, complete control of your healthcare and will regulate your treatments by administrative mandates, without considering the invasion of privacy.

This entire pile of crap legislation is something that never should have happened. I blame Congress, the President and the dumbasses that voted for the reprobates that voted the Affordable Healthcare Act into law. May their days in Hell be excruciatingly painful and long.

This Is Why...

...I couldn't be Pope.

After those comments I'd have to hang up my tolerance. I'd be loud, tell the bishops to get a squad to find her and have her excommunicated before sundown. There'd be press, television spots, radio announcements, and the guarantee she'd be thrown in jail for trespassing is she so much as walked across the curb in front of a Catholic church.

That's why I couldn't be Pope. That, and I'm not Catholic.

A Typical Political Solution

New Jersey property tax rates are up 13%. This is during a supposed conservative governor's term, which really doesn't mean anything when you look at the problem, which is the tax burden is excessive.

Now, the governor's opponent offered the following:

"... His Democratic opponent, Barbara Buono, says families are stuck with higher bills. She says she would raise taxes on high-income earners to pump up the rebate program..."

This is the typical response of a politician. Ignore the big problem, which is lowering costs - even if it causes distress for those employed by the public sector. The political solution is to find some other way to confiscate private wealth and avoid taking responsibility for the damage wrought by politicians. 

I don't know about you, but the idea of raising taxes on the supposed rich always ends up costing me more money. Those with a lot of money can pass the costs on to those that have little relief from the effects of higher taxes. Those that don't pay any taxes, really don't care and think they're doing the right thing. Me? I'm stuck, if I want to keep on doing everything I can to avoid being another mouth on the government tit. I either grin and bear it, or complain to politicians that don't really care how hard it is to stay afloat these days.

That sucks, and it can only be called thievery. 

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Loss of Confidence and Betrayal

Nancy Pelosi had an interesting remark about President Obama: when she was asked about Hillary Clinton running for President:

"...I don't know, but I know that if she does she will win, and when she becomes president she will be one of the best-equipped, best-prepared people to enter the White House in a very long time," Pelosi said. After serving eight years as first lady to President Bill Clinton, Mrs. Clinton was elected senator from New York, then lost the 2008 presidential nomination to Obama, who appointed her secretary of State.

"...With all due respect to our president – and I think he's magnificent and wonderful and a blessing to us – but certainly more prepared than President Obama, certainly more prepared than President [George W.] Bush, certainly more prepared than President Clinton," Pelosi said..."

She's distancing herself from the current President. That's typical with many politicians, if there's a struggle for power inside the party, but it's really early on to make a statement that directly questions the ability of the sitting President. 

I'm sure the reaction will bring more apologies, false praise and maybe even photo ops with Obama, but the die is cast. Considering she's praising the person responsible for the butchery in Benghazi, anyone with tiniest bit of sense should seriously question the Democratic Party leadership, if that's their political leaning. If they can allow one of their closest officials to be murdered for political gain, the everyday citizen has no meaning at all. 

I'm Tired of This Crappy Attitude

Unless the polls are complete crap, most people don't want Obamacare. It's a huge intrusion on personal liberty, allows bureaucrats to make decision that aren't theirs to make, and the final debt to taxpayers is unconscionable. This lack of wanting this crappy bureaucratic effort to force people to buy health insurance crosses party lines.

Meanwhile, the only people that are making a strong effort to stop the madness have their own party members in the way. Unless they're complete idiots, they know this will lead to a weakening of the effort and puts them in the category of useless turds; especially when they have absolutely nothing to offer.

I've had to deal with lots of problems on projects, but they never were solved when somebody was nothing but a wart on the ass of progress. Their lack of participation always led to the solution of removing them from the job; whether they were fired or politely told to get their ass out of the way.

So, the senators and congresscritters that are only problems need to pay close attention and realize they will eventually have to go home, or move. Nobody likes a quitter; especially when they're supposed to be on the same team.  

So, I Decided to Trim Some Limbs

The limbs were becoming a nuisance, so it was time to trim them back, which will probably be the precursor to the final removal of the trees.

Anyway, one large limb was fairly easy to handle. I cut it by the trunk with my chainsaw and it fell just as I wanted. I cut it into smaller sections and hauled it to the burning pile.

The next set of limbs were the same; even smaller. A few minutes with the chainsaw was all it took to add some more sky to my yard.

The last limb was higher than I could reach. In fact, it was higher than my extension ladder, so I pulled out the old extendable limb saw and went to work.

It wasn't really that hot, but I soon worked up a sweat. Sawing a larger limb with a puny limb saw is a lot of work.

I worked on it for about fifteen minutes, when it started to sag. I was thinking: "I'll just grab the end, and it will snap."

It did and hit me right in the head.

After a few moments of summarizing the damage, I realized it was light. Only a small cut on my forehead and a nice slice on my ear lobe, which bled like I'd cut it in two.

So, I won, but the tree put up a good fight.

Now, all I need is a cold, still, damp day to light up my burning pile. With the drought, I haven't dared to light the pile. When it goes, I'll have a good bonfire and some healthy coals. I just might wait for night, sit by the hot coals, sip some scotch and listen to the coyotes.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

It's Okay, The Media Is Watching Your Back

If you believe that, you don't have a chance. You might as well give up any efforts to be more than you are, go sign up for public assistance and move into Section 8 housing.

Most of the media is nothing but a propaganda outlet for those wishing to remove your liberty, completely control you life and keep you ignorant. They need to. If enough people knew how the resources of the United States were being wasted and used to keep politicians in a life of luxury, there would be revolt that would change the world.

Think about this, while you watch your favorite show on the alphabet networks. I hope the thoughts lead to avoiding those networks and the products they advertise. Things will never change as long as they're allowed to manipulate with impunity.

Let The Brutality Begin

When we left Vietnam, the communists moved in and practiced their own brand of political brutality. Thousands were either executed or sent to "re-education" camps to be indoctrinated, with unhealthy doses of torture, back-breaking labor or starvation.

So, it begins again with this, and this. The road to chaos and political retribution is now toll-free and open. 

Some Things Are On My MInd

I can't find the right words, but I have a lot to write about. Maybe later today, or tomorrow, I can put the thoughts to words.

Friday, September 20, 2013

A Good Article by Charles Krauthammer

I think this is an important read about the real Navy Yard scandal. 

Civil Discourse

...or not.

Allan Braur - who has a disclaimer in his Twitter bio that states his opinions are his own and not on behalf of any organization he works with - must not realize the disclaimer won't protect him; especially from the cut-throat thugs that permeate the Democratic Party. They'll have him drawn and quartered if they think that's the best way to preserve their credibility.

I'm thinking he crapped his pants and will now have to smell it for a long, long time.

Then again, wishing terrible things on people is a huge part of the party platform, so they may move him on to bigger and more destructive endeavors.

The Root of the Problem

You only have to read this article to understand why the entire country is struggling.

Few in Washington D.C. understand the economic problems of the rest of the United States. Those that do, are either capitalizing from the unbalanced economy, orchestrating more restrictions to liberty or really don't care.  They have a growing economy, steady increases in pay, new opportunities and an optimism founded on increasing wealth. It's a financial boom caused by government waste, increased spending and a lack of fiscal responsibility.

Washington isn't alone. You find the same thing in state capitols, where the legislators, their staff, the support sector of the private sector and availability of jobs increases incomes - all thanks to unwarranted confiscatory taxes, which harm those that produce.

Personally, I despise politicians and bureaucrats. They assumed the role that royalty once held, and acquired the same unfounded self-importance. Their arrogance leads them to believe they're indispensable, which only causes more anger from those they abuse.

How this all plays out will be documented by future historians. Hopefully, they write of a great awakening, the demand for the liberties envisioned by the founders of the United States, a purging of corrupt politicians and the prosecution of those that betrayed their oath to the Constitution.

Big Yellow Taxis to Daycare

This morning, I was running later than usual, and was forced to stop for school buses. That's irritating at best and makes me furious at worst.

I know some might be thinking I should calm down and enjoy the moment, which is probably good advice, but there's something about youngsters wasting my time, while ignoring courtesy, that gives me a case of the red-ass..

One  bus driver even had to honk at a group of older children that were flapping their jaws or typing texts on their phones. They didn't care and I'm sure they were annoyed the driver had the nerve to expect them to get on the bus as fast as possible.

I can't only fault the kids; teaching courtesy is a parent's responsibility. Of course, that would mean they were there to encourage, which wasn't possible; there wasn't even one parent there to see their child off to school.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Well, I Couldn't Wait

I decided to cook my soup. I don't have any photos yet, but I plan on doing so.

After considering what I do without thinking, I decided to pay attention to what I was doing and write it down. Here's my recipe. Try it if you want, but don't change anything until you've tried it unmolested. After that, let your conscience be your guide.

Vegetable Beef Soup ( Did you notice I used the bold font?)

Three to four pounds of beef, cut to small bite size pieces. Trim any excess fat and connective tissue.
                        One large onion          
                        One large potato
                        One 14.5 oz can of diced tomatoes
                        One 14.5 oz can of whole kernel corn
                        One 14.5 oz can of cut green beans
                        One 14.5 oz can of pinto beans
                        One 8 oz can of diced carrots.

For the beef, use either stew meat, or cut a roast. Season heavily - almost a rub - with salt, pepper, garlic powder and onion powder. You really have to go overboard to put too much.

Dice the onions and potatoes. Finely dice ¼ cup of the potatoes and separate.

In a 12 quart stock pot, place two tablespoons of cooking oil and heat to where the oil is almost smoking.

Place the beef and allow it to sear, turning often. This takes about five minutes.

Add the onions and cook until the meat is browned.

Add the can of diced tomatoes. Do not drain.

Bring to a simmer and simmer for 10 minutes.

Add the pinto beans, drained green beans, drained corn and drained carrots. This is an important step. Only the diced tomatoes and pinto beans should not be drained.

Bring to a simmer and simmer for 10 minutes.

Add 18 cups of water and the ¼ cup of finely diced potatoes.

Bring to a boil and then lower the heat to a simmer.

Simmer for one hour and then taste for seasoning. Add more salt if necessary.

Add the remainder of the potatoes and allow the soup to simmer until the potatoes are tender.

If you can stand it, allow the soup to cool, place it in the refrigerator and heat servings the following day. This is best. The seasoning soaks into the meat and potatoes.

If not, allow the soup to cool until it can be skimmed. Skim, serve and enjoy.

How many servings? I don’t know; I never measured the final result.

Although I don’t recommend it, you can substitute ground beef. If used, follow the instructions until the diced tomatoes are added. Drain the meat before this step and continue to follow the recipe.

I know there's a lot of canned vegetable in this recipe. I've tried fresh and don't like the results. If you even think about using Veg-All, I'll find you and kill you. That stuff ruins a good soup. 

Another thing: Other than the pinto beans, I prefer Del-Monte canned vegetables. To me, they taste better. As far as the pinto beans, I like Ranch Style brand pintos. 

Finally: I prefer the diced tomatoes with garlic and onions. It really doesn't make a huge difference, but I'm a perfectionist with my soup. 

I just thought of something else: Somebody once asked why I didn't put Lima beans in the soup. My immediate reaction was to vomit. I had to stay in bed for a week. 

Sometimes Tough is Best

If you've read my blog for some time, you realize I have little faith in government of any kind. I don't trust politicians, bureaucrats and their supporters. They've been patently dishonest since the beginning of time and the best form of government is one with very little authority, complete subservience to the citizens and harsh penalties for those that break the rules.

This brings me to the topic of my post, which is determining the suitable punishment for some of the crappy politicians and bureaucrats in Washington. What would really get their attention? What would make them understand things can really go bad if they screw up? Jail? Nope. I have better ideas.

We need to be really, really harsh on these crooked politicians and bureaucrats. I think something like staking them out in the desert for a day or two should be the immediate punishment for wasting taxpayer money. I know that sounds harsh, but nothing else seems to get their attention. I guarantee that would get their attention. Screw the white collar crime penalties. Make them understand some poor bastard sweated blood to earn what they stole and pissed away. After that, the sky's the limit for punishment.

Would this work? Maybe, but one good result would be a hesitance of seeking political power or government employment. I think that's a good thing. We have too many people on the government payroll as it is and too many of the jobs are only for derelicts to shuffle paper around on a desk for eight hours each day. When even the tiniest waste of money can lead to a severe punishment, those jobs will be eliminated. After that, costs will go down, taxes will be lowered and taxpayers will be allowed keep substantially more of what they earned. They worked for it, not the government.

It's Not a Mercedes...

...but it can pick up a few dozen Mercedes and place them on the roof.

...and you thought cranes had nothing but a few levers and a throttle.

Inflation for Dummies

Let's assume you're a restaurant owner with one gallon of milk, with 16 servings of 8 ounces per serving, but you have 17 customers that want a serving of milk. What do you do? It's easy, you just add 8 ounces of water to the gallon, mix it all up and now you have enough for 17 servings, although the milk is a little diluted. Probably, nobody will notice and your make an extra profit.

So, what if you have 20 customers that want a serving?

That's where it can become a problem. If you add too much water, some people might be a little suspicious after they taste their "milk" and demand what they bought, which, since you don't have any more milk, you give them a free piece of pie.

Others might demand a reduction in the price for their serving of milk, which means the value of your serving of milk has dropped; especially when others see what they were served instead of milk. Now, you not only have dissatisfied customers, your reputation is tarnished. Future customers will  be hesitant to buy your milk and the lack of customers can lead to financial hardship. Your milk has no value and you can't give it away.

There you go; that's inflation. All you have to do is substitute the government as the restaurant owner, money for the milk and investors for the customers.

You're asking: "But what about the customers that kept accepting the diluted product?"

The answer? They got screwed. How does it feel?

It's Soup Time

I need to make some vegetable beef soup. It's been too long and I need my "fix". The only problem will be finding the right cut of meat at the right price. With the price of beef, that might be a problem

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Heat Buster

The weather wizards are forecasting rain over the next three days, followed by the first strong cold front of the season.

For those that live in colder climes, the forecast temperatures in the low 70's (maybe even in the high 60's) and highs right below 90 might not seem like and indication of a cold front. For us, it's what finally breaks the brutal heat and signals the start of Fall.

I'm looking forward to the change. I've had enough of the heat and high humidity.

New Math

According to the President: raising the debt ceiling doesn't increase the debt of the United States.

I don't make this stuff up...although I'd feel more comfortable if I did.


That's probably too many acronyms for a post title, but it works.

Dr. Roy Spencer has a good page about climate models. If every student was offered this information as part of their education, they'd have a chance of using their minds for something besides soaking up liberal propaganda.

He sums up the misuse of data to support the AGW cult.

"...There is no question that great progress has been made in climate modeling. I consider computer modeling to be an absolutely essential part of climate research. After all, without running numbers through physical equations in a theoretically-based model, you really can not claim that you understand very much about how climate works.

But given all of the remaining uncertainties, I do not believe we can determine — with any objective level of confidence — whether any of the current model projections of future warming can be believed. Any scientist who claims otherwise either has political or other non-scientific motivations, or they are simply being sloppy..."

I'm Guessing He Went To College

Dennis M. Crowley had this article posted on CNS News. I'm guessing, from his article, he feels a college degree is necessary for security clearance. Since he feels a college degree is a security requirement, I wonder what he suggests should be the proper degree for maintenance and janitorial services?

Don't look at me, I didn't make this up.

Let Them Eat Cake...

...and languish under the debacle of Obama Care. 

I don't know about you, but if it's so damn good of a law, why are they so quick to find ways to exempt themselves and help their staffs?


Tuesday, September 17, 2013

I'm Irritated at Me

My boss makes strong coffee, which is good, but I should have answered "no", when he offered to make a fresh pot this evening. I'll be bouncing off the walls until after 10:00.

PHD in Workology

I haz one. I created the degree and now have a doctorate in Workology; the study of work.

You're laughing? It's as good as her credentials, although I look terrible in a skirt and the only information I'd give the current administration is that the time goes faster, when you behave in prison.

Can you say dumbass? Good, I knew you could.

If I Was President

I wouldn't want to be President. I like my freedom from constant public scrutiny and I would be uncomfortable if I had somebody always knowing when I was going to the can. They might start counting, leak (yes, that's a pun) the information and I'd find my toilet habits were public knowledge.

Anyway. If I was President, I'd give all my military leader full permission to allow concealed carry permit holders to carry their weapons on military bases. Those that didn't follow the logical path and allow such a thing would be relieved of their command.

I would have done that after the Fort Hood massacre. I wonder why the President didn't do this?

Bot Swarm

I had a bot swarm this morning. Damned if they didn't swarm and were gone before I could catch a few.

It looks like I'LL have to cut the yard.

...And Another Thing

There are some people in D.C. that are wrestling with anguish and sorrow that will now have their mourning exposed like the cheap antics of an entertainer.

Not only did they not deserve this, but the scrutiny, political crap and complete disregard for their privacy during a time of mourning will only reveal more of the revolting underbelly of what we call politics and news reporting.

May they find moments of peace and solitude during their crises.

Pro Bono?

Some of the I.R.S. officials under investigation hired some high dollar attorneys I wonder if these firms are doing this pro bono? I doubt it. Huge firms like that need lots of money to pay the overhead and the extremely long time for a possible criminal prosecution is far from inexpensive.

I wonder who's footing the bill? I have a feeling they don't want anyone to know.

I'm Betting Somebody is Passing Bricks

The gunman that had a field day at the Navy Yard was ex-Navy, had twice shot at people out of anger, and he still had secret security clearance.

Meanwhile, Feinstein is demanding more private citizen firearm restrictions and the media is remarkably silent on the skin color of the shooter, which makes no difference, except when they can use it to their advantage to promote fascism.

Somebody in Naval Security is being dragged across the carpet. While it's probably not the person that's really responsible, there is someone having a miserable week. May the incompetence be exposed, the right people taken to task for their inability to protect people on the bases and may those on bases be allowed to carry firearms. While the reports state officers responded within minutes, those taking the rounds only had seconds to respond. Their response would have been better if they were armed. The shooter would have had a terrible time aiming with a few dozen rounds coming his way.

Monday, September 16, 2013

He Wasn't From Texas

I don't know why that bothers me so much, but the portrayal of the assassin in D.C. as "from Texas" isn't correct. He was from New York and kept his identity as such.

So, the media is following their usual "report and then verify" method of reporting. I'm not surprised.

So, Who Cares?

The new Miss America has Indian Ancestry. This is important?

The news is full of dreck and this is one of the finest examples.

They Can't Even Balance Their Checkbook... there's no way in the world they're qualified to decide on Constitutional rights.

Journalism is not a club, organization or a special designation by the lying, thieving pieces of crap that inhabit the Senate and the House of Representative. They can pound sand, jump in the lake, jump off a bridge or just jump their asses and disappear.

I've had enough of this crap. If our so called professional journalist were doing their job, I'm betting you'd find money from publishers, owners of news outlets and those wishing to stay under the radar behind this farce.

The journalists that make the most difference today are bloggers. They're not under the control of the government and that's the problem: Congress wants to continue to operate without scrutiny.The electronic age has exposed their actions at the speed of light and it's exposing enough to make many realize the depth of the corruption and incompetence.

 Drudge calls their efforts "fascism" I agree and think some of these fascists need to be allowed the same fate as one of the most famous fascist of history - Mussolini

Off Hand Remark

Neil Young made a remark about a town in Canada, which caused some people to get mad.

I grew up surrounded by the petrochemical industry. It's what paid the bills, gave people a slice of the American Dream and the entire world uses the products produced in the area. There's everything from the gasoline used in your cars, to the Kevlar in bullet-proof vests made locally.

I watched a documentary a few years ago, with a group of determined "environmentalists" pursuing involvement in their current "crises". There were the usual folks, including college students and other people that probably had no idea their Gore-Tex winter clothing was manufactured from polymers that wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the discovery of oil . They even had snowmobiles, which take a lot of oil products to become the machines they were zipping around in.

So, do I have point? Not really, except some people have pointed heads. That's okay, as long as they don't say anything.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

So, This Takes a Year?

A Congressional report indicates the State Department investigation of Benghazi allowed key high ranking officials to escape responsibility for the lack of security at the consulate. 

I know this might shock some people, but when you allow corrupt high ranking officials to investigate their own actions, they have a tendency to look for a sacrificial goat, instead of accepting their responsibility. From the response to the attack last year, it was obvious high ranking officials dropped the ball and then tried to hide the fact with bogus claims.

I don't know about you, but my opinion is that Boehner should have never  allowed this much time to pass without strong actions. I think he's too much of a Washington insider, probably has some skeletons in the closet, and is not willing to be honorable. Otherwise, they own him and he's their personal bitch.

Remembering Our Enemies

Back during the Cold War, the subterfuge, espionage and outright military actions were a constant reminder we had political systems overseas without our best interests at heart. There was no doubt there was an effort to remove the United States as a world power.

Now? I think people forgot, or were never taught, the former Soviet Union and Communist China furnished weapons, advisers and even troops to kill U.S. soldiers on the battlefield. Also, there's an unfounded belief, with the end of the Soviet Union and trading with China, they're both now members of the good guy club.

So, we now have too many people too ignorant to realize the dangers the U.S. faces when two powerful adversaries are allowed to influence our politics and economies. That worries me, especially with the current gaffes and stumbling policies of the current administration. When even the political leaders are nearly as clueless as the most ignorant of their constituents, the recipe for disaster is almost complete.

While They Were Wasting Taxpayer Money...

...they've come up with another way to waste some more. 

So what is this? I'm thinking a political donor needs someplace to send a derelict son, or brother-in-law. With this new bureaucracy, there's room for plenty.

We have enough people with tax wasting positions that need to go. Bill Hohenstein , director of the USDA Climate Change Program, in the Office of the Chief Economist, should be first. Anybody that needs damn near a paragraph just to define their position is a waste of taxpayer money.

This comment reflects my opinion:

"... "That is just symptomatic of the attitude in Washington -- that farmers and ranchers … are too stupid to maximize their efficiency is something that really boggles the mind," Patrick J. Michaels, director of the Center for the Study of Science at the Cato Institute, told Newsmax...."

It wouldn't be so bad, if it was all just the philosophical ramblings of private citizens with nothing to do. It's not and the fact they let any of these people loose with taxpayer money is mind boggling. 

Saturday, September 14, 2013

I'm Making Some Jambalya

I don't make it like many people. I don't care for the bell pepper and celery. I, also, don't care for any tomatoes or tomato sauce.

So, it's pretty simple. I do use a good lean cut of pork, a local smoked sausage and a lot of seasoning. When it's complete, I'll add a side dish of navy beans.

If you're wondering where I came up with my recipe, I learned it from my wife, who learned it from her mother, who is 100% Cajun. That means it has the Cajun seal of approval...or not. I don't care. I like it like it is.

I have to add I made some cornbread, in an iron skillet, with crushed bacon and finely chopped onions to go with my supper. I'll sleep good tonight. 

Physics? We Don't Need No Physics

Arctic sea ice is of a record thickness this year.  To those that are challenged by physics, the cooler the water; more ice, since the lower temperature allows the ice to form sooner.

I know this fact doesn't favor the opinion the human race is destroying the planet by causing it to heat out of control. For the believers, that's tragic. For the Al Gores, the scrutiny of their activities, and huge amounts of accumulated wealth, may not end well. I hope it doesn't. They've lied, abused the gullibility of people and need to be abandoned on an ice flow with hungry polar bears.

We Throw Away Too Much

My microwave has some paint blistering where the lazy susan rides around the bottom. Easy fix, right? Just a little paint?

I went to two hardware stores and a Lowe's. They looked at me like I asked for beryllium or  a photon torpedo. They never heard of a paint that would be suitable for the inside of a microwave, so I returned home and found there is by looking it up on the internet.

Now, some of you are thinking: "Microwaves are fairy inexpensive, so just go buy a new one." That's real good advice, if you think the trade off for less than ten dollars of paint and a sheet of sandpaper is worth the price of a new microwave; especially one that is so familiar, you can cook in the dark without hitting the wrong button.

We throw away too much. I like things that become functional again with a little paint, some duct tape or a bent coat hanger. They keep my brain sharp and my wallet thicker.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Another Re-Post - "A late January Afternoon"

As I was sitting tonight, I remembered this short story. It was based on fact and experiences with my mother. I thought I needed to post it again. I hope you enjoy it.

Light rain pelted him as he ran from his car to the porch. The cold wind scattered leaves in the yard and sped the low clouds across the winter sky. He quietly opened the door and walked to the kitchen. The smells and warm air reminded him of the past. A faint hint of breakfast still lingered. For a moment, he thought of his childhood and preparing for school. He'd catch a ride with his father on such a day. He allowed the memories to pass. His father had been gone for decades.

Time stood still in the old house. Memories hung on the walls or sat in special places on shelves. The photographs stuck to the refrigerator were moments in time captured forever; the young children now adults and scattered by the winds of change. Their faded photographs were testimonies to special moments, or graduations.

His mother was at the kitchen table. She had placed her head down to take a short nap. He paused for a few moments then gently shook her arm. She awoke, stared for a moment then lit the room with her smile. "This is a surprise. I wasn't expecting you."

He raised his voice and asked: "How are you feeling?" It was a question that he asked out of habit. He knew the answer. Age had trapped her mind in a body that refused to allow her to rest. They had discussed this a few times. While she was ready, he knew her passing would be the start of his own. At that time, his own mortality would not be an occasional thought to push to the side for another day.

She answered: "I'm okay." paused for a moment and asked: "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure. You stay there, I'll make a pot."

As he made the coffee, he thought how things had changed. At one time, his mother would always have a fresh pot. She never made coffee now. Coffee was for special occasions. He measured the grounds, placed the coffee in the machine and added the water. After making sure the switch was on, he sat across from his mother and asked if she had anything new to report.

"Nothing is new."

"Have you heard from anyone?" He always asked the same question. Visits were rare and she spent a lot of time alone watching television or reading the paper. She would dabble in her office, but she didn't have the ability to concentrate as in the past. Mental tasks were tedious, but she still persevered. She refused to be beaten by life.

"I heard from an old friend from high school. They had lost my phone number and found it again. They were checking to see if I was still alive." She laughed and added: "I told them it's not much of a life, but I'm still here."

He smiled, although the words broke his heart. He'd finally accepted that all that was left was the waiting. It made him sad to watch her fade. He knew she was ready to pass on, since the dignity of life was slowly disappearing. He felt a stab of anger. It all seemed so unfair. Everyone else in his life had passed suddenly; watching the slow event of her passage was excruciating. Her time left was like a dead limb on a tree; the amount of time before it fell was a mystery.

"Are you hungry?"

He hesitated, then answered: "A little. What do you have?"

"I have some leftover roast, rice and gravy. We can heat it and I'll make a salad"

"Let's have some coffee first. I'm enjoying the visit"

The coffee machine was gurgling and spitting the last of the boiled water. He rose and flipped the switch to off. It lasted longer if it wasn't kept on the hot plate. He knew she would have some more later, or tomorrow morning. If she didn't it would sit for a few days, until she poured it out. In the past, when she drank more coffee, he would smell the pot before he ever accepted any coffee. Sometime, it would be days old and stale. He wondered if that was why she stopped making her daily pot. She couldn't remember if it was fresh and hated the thought of wasting the coffee.

They sat, sipped their coffee and discussed politics. Neither was happy about current politics or the state of the economy. She was disappointed with the stock market, since her retirement income was supplemented by dividends. She was concerned she wouldn't have enough and drops in the market would cause her to worry.

She rose and opened the refrigerator. He responded by rising and offering "I'll help." Quickly looking at the shelves, he spotted the small roast covered with clear wrap. Pulling it from the refrigerator, he hunted for the rice and gravy. He opened and smelled the containers. It all smelled fresh, but he still asked: "When did you make this?"

"Last night. It's "cow butt", which brought a glint to her eye. "Cow butt" was the term his brother had used for rump roast. The story behind the term was one of her favorites and part of many conversations at family gatherings.

He removed lettuce from the hydrator and handed it to his mother. She had started slicing a small tomato that was on the counter. As she worked, he looked in the refrigerator for old containers. In the past, he would ask how old something was, which always brought the same answer: "It's still good." He didn't ask any longer. He would open the containers, smell the contents and throw things away when she wasn't looking. He knew she could barely smell and taste. She might take a chance, but he'd do everything he could to remove the opportunity.

After heating their servings in the microwave, they sat and visited, while they ate. He ate slowly, to match her pace. He relished the time and the taste reminded him of Sunday dinners, when the entire family would share a meal. There were few left now. Without grandchildren and their families, there were usually only two or three during a gathering. Large gatherings were few and would soon only be memories. She wasn't physically able to prepare a large meal, refused to allow anyone else to perform the task and was uncomfortable about others doing the same for her. She was tenaciously independent and determined to be so until her death.

They finished their meal and started clearing the table. He put the food back in the refrigerator, while she placed the dishes in the sink. He offered to help with the dishes, which she refused. She would wash them later; not while they were visiting.

He poured them both a cup of coffee and sat once again at the table. She asked about his family and his work. In the past, he would seek her advice on both and they would have have hours of discussion. She was a good sounding board for thoughts. Her experiences in life offered valuable information, but those days were gone. He answered: "Everyone is fine and work is good." He didn't want to burden her with any problems he might be having. She had enough to worry about, without adding his worries.

"I need to be going" he said as he rose from the table. "I need to wash my hands first."

He went to the bathroom and washed his hands. He left the bathroom and made his usual cursory tour of the house. He looked for anything that seemed out of place or showed signs of future problems. He ended up in the living room and paused to stare out the window. For a moment, the late afternoon sun broke through the heavy clouds. The wet limbs of the oak trees appeared as poured gold, which glistened as the wind moved the branches. The light soon faded and the dreary, deep greys of a late, rainy winter evening returned.

He returned to the kitchen and spoke: "If you need anything, you know how to find me. I always have my cell phone close; even at night."

"I know. Is there anything I can do for you?"

He knew those days were over. The only thing she could really do for him was to be careful and never forget he was there if she needed him. "Not right now. If there is, you know I'll ask"

She rose, he hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll love you, Mom" she responded: "I love you, too. You be careful and come when you can."

He carefully locked the door when he left. He knew he'd remember the last few moments forever if needed. They might be the last moments he ever spent with her, so every detail was important.

As he drove away, he glanced back towards the house. The porch light had come on and lit the wet walk in front of her house. He thought of how times had changed. Families were now scattered. While the Internet kept everyone close, it was a pale reminder of reality. Those short moments of communication didn't represent the myriad of moments known as life. He felt sadness for a moment, but quickly shifted his thoughts to work, home and the thousands of things that occupied his thoughts. His time would eventually come, but not now. There were too many things to do and not enough time for the tasks.

Turning on the radio brought a song from high school. He fondly remembered riding down the beach, the windows down and his entire life a long journey into the future. For a moment, time slipped away and he was young again.

You Know What This Reminds Me Of?

Have you ever seen a kid that was obnoxiously doing everything they can to get your attention for no other reason than their own selfish desires? I have, and now, computer updates follow the same irritating, infuriating method of capturing my attention.

On some days, my "this will piss me off" button is pushed by my own computer. Technology is taking over the world.

I Hate Reading Stuff Like This

There's nothing anyone can do, so it only makes it worse. 

Five Years Ago

Ike was ashore, but it was still really, really windy.

Curious, I used Google Earth to check the miles I was from the center. Around forty miles, as a crow flies.  Twelve hours before Ike hit, I was still thinking it would go ashore around Freeport.

Rita, and Ike were "hundred year" hurricanes. I hope so. I don't ever want to see one like either again.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

The Bots are Swarming Tonight

Where's my flyswatter?

My Solution to the Problems in Syria

We take our President, Putin, Assad and the leader of the rebels, place them in a chain link covered ring, give them the weapon of their choice and let them fight, until there is only one winner. Then we take the winner, and throw them in a pond full of saltwater crocodiles.

There might not be any peace, but I'd sure sleep better at night.

Kerry is Getting Tough

John Kerry is rejecting the Syrian plan for their chemical weapons. That's what he's saying today and he'll probably stick to his words, until tomorrow, or this evening, when he'll tell the press he wasn't trying to issue any ultimatum and he really thinks we should be diplomatic, and if they don't want to play, he'll take his football and go home.  there will be even harsher words, as long as they don't insult anyone and he doesn't look too silly. After all, this isn't a game.

This Should Be Interesting

John McCain is being rebuked by his own party from his own state.  I think he'll show his ass with his reaction. I might be wrong, but I doubt it.

She's Full of Something...

...and I don't think it's water.

Meanwhile, there's no real scientific consensus on any health benefit from drinking extra water, unless you're getting a boatload of kickbacks from bottling companies. That's real good for emotional health, as long as you don't have a conscience.

You're Fired

Considering the state of our current Federal Government, those two words are not understood or they're too cowardly to do what's right. Either way, they've turned simple problems into huge problems by ignoring those two necessary words.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Motorcycles Are Too Big to Count

I've spent a few moments today to see if there was an estimate of the number of motorcyclists in D.C. today. There was little to find.

I'm guessing motorcycles are too big to count. That should explain everything.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

A Prediction

Tonight, the speech by the President will be summed up with: "Yada, yada. Yada yada yada? Yada yada.

Putin, and Assad, will next have the opportunity of "finding" those who gassed the civilians and punishing them severely for their actions. The court of world opinion will applaud their actions and our President will keep wearing the pointed hat with the tassel.

It Was a Beautiful Morning (repost)

It was an early Fall. The temperature was in the mid 50's and the skies were crystal clear. I had just finished breakfast and we were driving to the job site in the twilight of dawn. The motel was close to our project site, so the trip was short.

Traffic was light as we placed the advance warning signs and started closing down the inside lane of U.S. 59 in Cleveland, Texas. We had five sections of concrete to pull. We sawed the concrete the day before, drilled lifting holes and now needed to pull the sections of failed pavement and start preparing for the new concrete. The pour was set for 10:00 am.

It didn't take long for the lifting machine to pull the first section of paving. As soon as the broken slab was moved to the shoulder, the crew started drilling holes for the anchors. When the anchors were placed, the crew placed a mat of rebar and moved to the next patch.

The procedure was moving as planned, so all five patches were well on the way to being prepared by 8:00 am. We would be ready for the concrete. I checked the work and started documenting the sizes on a daily report.

Around 30 minutes later, my boss called my cell phone. I assumed he was checking our progress, but he wanted to tell me that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Towers. He didn't have any details. I wondered what failure had led a pilot to fly their small plane into the tower. Bad weather? An error in judgement? I thought about it for a few minutes and then went back to work.

It didn't seem very long after that when my boss called me again, which I thought would be a progress check. It wasn't. He explained that it was a passenger jet that hit the first tower and another had flown into the second tower. He described the preliminary news feeds he was watching on television. I could only stare while my mind raced.

We continued working. My boss kept me informed. It was now clear it was a planned terror attack. He was in contact with the area engineer office for the Texas Department of Transportation. We were working for them and their decisions would decide whether we would pour concrete, which required hours of time to set, or place a temporary material to be removed in the future. The decision was to proceed as we always did, so we prepared for the concrete pour.

Before the concrete arrived, my wife called. She was terrified and wanted me to come home. I told her I couldn't leave until the concrete was poured and we were off the highway. Even then, I couldn't leave if we were to continue with our project. I told her I would come home immediately if the project was shut down, and to go to her mother's if she became too worried.

More information was now available, so I knew there was an immediate call for all air traffic to land. I noticed the absence of air traffic immediately. We were close enough to Bush International in Houston to see the constant flow of air transports, which dwindled and eventually ended.

We poured the concrete and started the process of preparing for the next day. I went to the motel to catch what I could on television. The loops of the impacts, the falling towers and the smoking section of the Pentagon was almost unbelievable. My mind was having a hard time wrapping around the fact we had been attacked and the result was the death of thousands of innocent people.

We finished the day as usual. We were prepared for the next day when we started opening the lane in the early afternoon. I had spent long minutes as we were finishing staring at the empty skies, It was bizarre to not see the heavy air traffic. Contrails from military jets stretched across the skies. I wondered if they were ours, or the jets of an enemy that was in the process of invading.

I had kept in contact with my wife during the day. After I reached the motel, we had a long conversation. She was calmer. I knew she still wanted me to come home, but she understood that it probably wouldn't happen until the week was over. Since I was only about two hours from home, I reassured it wouldn't take long to reach home if anything changed.

Watching television was like watching a fictional disaster movie. I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around the events of the day, but it was becoming clearer that it was a middle eastern terror group. My anger was rising and all I could think of  was how cowardly it was to attack innocents. I wanted our military to bomb half the Middle East to Hell. Kill them all and let God sort them out.

I'll never forget that day. Time stopped and it became apparent that the cruelty in the world is always only moments away. Barbarians had tested our defenses and managed to find a weak spot for their advantage. It wasn't a pleasant thought then and still isn't. I feel no compassion for such people and can only offer their death be swift, although many days I'd prefer they would suffer the agony of those trapped on the upper floors of the World Trade Center Towers.  Even after ten years, I'm still angry. I'm not ready to forgive, or forget.

Last Dream of the Night

I had a strange dream, which I won't elaborate on at this time. What made it stranger, was that what was happening was dynamic, like when the thoughts of a short story pop into my mind and it starts working on the plot.

Maybe there will be some good stuff to use.

Monday, September 9, 2013

All Work...

and no play, makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jess a dull boy.

If You Don't

Kerry tells Assad the only way he can avoid an attack is to turn over his chemical weapons. 

I guess he gave the rebels the same ultimatum....wait, that would mean we were attacking the wrong enemy....or would we be attacking the right enemy?....or would they both just ignore Kerry and tell him to kiss their ass?

I'm thinking they'll tell him to kiss their ass. What can he do? Throw his medals at them?

Kerry also said the U.S. and the U.K. are the best of friends, although I think he might want to think about that. Obama didn't help our friendship by giving the Queen an Ipod. I'm sure she could afford one on her own and probably really doesn't care much for tiny electronic devices that give her headaches and remind the citizens of the U.K. how we have a turd for a President.

More to add:

So, they're sending out Susan Rice to give everyone the big picture. This should be good. Maybe she can be more creative this time and blame space aliens for capturing, and manipulating, the leaders of Syria. She can then recommend we all get behind Obama and save the world before they steal our water.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

And Then What Happens?

There's a butt-load of public servants. You find them everywhere, doing things important, and doing things that irritate the people that generate the money for their pay.

There has to be a tipping point; a point where the burden of paying for public servants is more than society is willing to accept; a point where being a public servant is being part of a society that is not only despise who they are, they make efforts make the lives of public servants miserable.

I don't know about you, but reading where those that consume the taxes are getting more, while I'm expected to accept less is becoming a daily irritant. Besides those that are paid to do nothing, there are way too many that are paid to make my life more miserable.

So, what happens where the majority of people that produce develop my attitude? What will the public servants do? Get mean? Push harder? And, then what? What will they gain? After all, they don't produce anything and they will find the endeavor to complete their own producing as futile as that of the former Soviet Union.

You can't force people to accept servitude forever; especially in the United States. It's in our blood to not accept arrogance and entitlement from those that have no function, except to consume what we produce.

I hope there are not ugly times ahead, but when you see the number of firearm purchases, and the increasing effort to put the brakes on our runaway elected officials, the signs are ominous. Unlike other places in the world, U.S. citizens are armed, determined and not cowered by authority. In a society ruled by liberty, that's a good thing. In a society that has want-to-be tyrants expecting subservient drones to blindly follow their arbitrary whims, it's a disaster.

Clarity at Waking

I was between sleep and waking. Short forgotten dreams were entwined with the first thoughts of the day, when a thought congealed and I awoke.

I was thinking of how people might perceive me at different times of the day. Snapshots, with nothing but conjecture for reference. They didn't know me and they had nothing to work with, except those few moments of observation.

As my thoughts continued, I realized what caught my attention, when I observed others, and I found those doing something were envisioned with more favor. They were accomplishing something, which I know is something better than just talking about it.

That's the problem with this country. It's all talk; no action. Think about it.


Saturday, September 7, 2013

Only an Expression

A woman, that lives next to my mother's house, rang the doorbell, while I was there. She explained her mother died, she had many visitors, and she wondered if I'd mind if they parked on the driveway.

I gave my permission, and asked if she was leaving for a few days. Her remark was "I can't ever go back."

She's Vietnamese; first generation after the refugees made it to the United States. When I asked, "not going back" never crossed my mind. I felt a little foolish, but I think she understood my ignorance.

Looking at her, I asked if she was alright. She turned to me, with the expression I knew too well; the expression that describes the loss, confusion, sadness, and profound unwillingness to release those you know are gone. I'd seen it in the mirror.

She answered: "I have to be."

I could only say: "Yeah, but it still hurts."

She paused for a moment, put her hand on my arm and walked away.

I could only think of my mother, who I was blessed to help through her final years. It was an experience that taught me more about myself than few other experiences in my life. I was blessed and the neighbor never had the opportunity.

There's a lesson to be taught from this short moment in time. It teaches we're all the same and the politics of the world don't bring comfort, unless liberty is the final goal.

Friday, September 6, 2013

I Usually Don't Do This

I rarely link other blogs. It's nothing personal. It's just something I don't do very often, but acts of kindness, without parallel, don't seem to be in the news often enough. There must be some kind of award to be presented to someone with a heart of gold.

Today, Farmgirl posted Micro didn't make it. Words probably won't offer much consolation, but give it a try.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

What if...

...they had a button on your phone, which caused a telemarketer to receive a shock, when they called you?

Wouldn't that be great? I want one.

Simple Things Without Answers

Gravity is pretty simple. Anything with mass, attracts anything else with mass. The more mass, the more gravity.

So what is gravity? Nobody knows. That's the answer in a nutshell and if anyone tells you otherwise, they're full of crap.

When You Add It All Up

Putin called John Kerry a liar; so have a lot of other people. I guess I should be outraged, but I believe they're right.

Now, with this Syrian mess, and all the conflicting information, you'd think the President would realize his predicament, replace John Kerry, and try to save face by making some drastic changes in his handling of foreign policy.

This doesn't seen to be happening. When you add it all up, it doesn't add up.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013


I was in my mid teens; almost old enough to drive, and it was summer. 

I was a friend's house, with another friend, when we decided we needed to barbecue some chicken one summer afternoon.  None of us had ever cooked anything on a grill, but it appeared something easily accomplished; after all, we'd seen our parents cook, so anyone could. 

Billy decided to be the official fire starter. It was his house, his father's grill and he was the "expert" by proxy, although I doubt his father had any idea what we were up to. We were already on his shit list for filling the new concrete ditch behind their house with pine needles and burning the huge pile. 

Ted, and I, watched as he carefully stacked the charcoal, poured some gasoline, allowed it to sit for a few minutes and throw a lit kitchen match on the pile. 

I know you're all thinking to yourself: "Gasoline should never be used to start charcoal." This is true, but who were we to question the "expert"? We were just as clueless. 

Due to the volatile nature of gasoline, and the little time to allow it to soak into the charcoal, the fire was out in a few minutes, which left only edges showing any signs of becoming hot. 

Ted and I weren't paying much attention, but Billy was determined to have the best charcoals ever. So... while we weren't paying attention... he poured more gasoline on the charcoal. 

The huge cloud of white fumes caught both Ted's and my attention immediately. Before we could remark about what we were seeing, Billy approached in the cloud, with a box of kitchen matches in his hand. 


Before Ted's and my warning could reach Billy, he struck a match.


A huge fireball enveloped Billy and ended as soon as it began. 

I know you're thinking "Oh my God. It must have been horrible."

Billy was standing there, dumbfounded, with a shit eating grin on his face. His eyebrows were gone and his hair was singed. 

Within seconds, he started laughing, which brought our laughter, too, although ours more from relief. 

Close examination revealed smooth skin above his eyes, some redness to his face and substantial curly, singed hairs on his head. Other than that, he wasn't injured and we could only wonder how he escaped without terrible injuries. 

The fire was soon out; with the coals still not doing much of anything. This prompted us to change our plans. 

As my mind worked, I realized Billy's father would be home for work in a short time, which prompted me to remember something "important" I needed to do immediately. Ted, too, remembered something important, so we left. 

Billy never told me whether there were any repercussions for our cooking efforts; and I never asked. 

Some things you're never supposed to know. 

Have You Ever Seen Such a Mess?

If you read the news reports, the push for the U.S. military to intervene in the Syrian civil war is founded on a theoretical red line drawn by President Obama, which he now says he didn't draw.

Secretary of State, Kerry, says there's a backing by allies to pursue this warfare, although he must be hiding some in his back pocket, because our usual allies are sitting this one out.

He's also saying the Arabs will finance the entire cost of the invasion. Of course, "Arabs" live on a big chunk of real estate, have more than one form of government and Kerry could be more specific. Also, what do they want in return? Don't try the "humanitarian" line of bullshit. Look at how they treat their own citizens and you'll see it's all crap.

A Senate committee has given the green light to pursue legislation to start the conflict, which doesn't say much. Committees generally only hold up legislation, or fart out useless legislation like the flatulence from a constipated pig. To add insult to injury, this committee threw all the Senate rules in the toilet and don't seem to give a damn about what their colleagues think of the mess.

Even the most liberal slanted polls show an overwhelming "no" to question of whether we should intervene in Syria. In reference to government duties, that means "no", which should end the discussion immediately.

Meanwhile, we're still being spied upon, Obamacare is destroying jobs, the value of money is decreasing, Eric Holder is suing states because he doesn't like their politics, Hillary Clinton is still not being taken to task for Benghazi and her husband has been proven to not be a Vegan, which means he's a liar.

Yep, it's a mess and the media is reporting only what they're told to report, when they're not waving pom-poms and doing cheers for their chosen hero.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

All Tattered and Torn

I had some supplies to pick up at an industrial supply house this evening, which is in the far end of my home town. I took the short-cut I knew, to save some time and avoid the evening traffic from the local refineries.

My route led me through downtown...or what was once downtown. Little was left, except the numerous empty buildings; a testament to days long gone; boarded window, decay and the memories of those left to remember.

I tried to look for landmarks, but found few. The old businesses were long gone; not even a sign to show where they were. The banks - once majestic, with the names carved into the marble - were as empty and desolate as the rest of what once was a thriving center of commerce.

I picked up my supplies and decided to take a drive through town.

As I drove, I examined the same streets once part of times long gone. Neat, trimmed lawns were few to be found, unlike when I was young. Grass grew over the curbs of streets in need of repair. Houses, once fresh painted,  were now empty, or long worn and neglected. Closed businesses marked where too many succumbed to age, quit trying or moved on.

Memories swarmed and filled the emptiness I was feeling. Instead of the decay, I was seeing the past, when the cicadas buzzed in the lazy summer evenings. Children played, while fathers cut the yard. People waved, smiled and you knew you were safe if were to walk down any street. As quick as they came, the memories soon disappeared. Unhappy thoughts soon filled my mind.

The more I drove, the darker my thoughts. It was as though something precious was stolen; the thieves cloaked in politics and corruption; my hometown stricken with disease, dying a slow death and would eventually be nothing but long stretches of desolation and despair.

I pushed the thoughts aside and headed for a grocery store to buy a few items I needed. As I pulled into the parking lot, the radio played:

"Rainy days, dream away
Let the sun take a holiday."

I looked to the north and saw the deep blue line of approaching thunderstorms. Rain was coming, and I needed to hurry.

As I stepped from my truck, the hot wind swirled the smell of hot asphalt, with fresh cut grass and I was returned to my youth. Memories swirled once again and I decided I would gather them close and hold them as long as they would last.

Some Ranting for Tuesday

I might be wrong, but from my vantage point, when Democrats are in charge, the good military people get shuffled out of the way or retire. This leaves what we know have.

Syria is mess, it's apparent our President is more than green and the military leaders now in charge are probably nothing but "yes" men; loyal to their career, instead of what's important.

Meanwhile, Congress is feckless, wants to talk about something that needs no conversation and refuses to believe that the majority of the people in this country have had a neck-full of the political horseshit that's been the earmark of this administration.

Here is the answer: No, we don't go to war with Syria.

If you wanted to change leaders, you should have strapped some C-4 to John Kerry, when he had dinner with Assad. Two problems would have been solved with on little switch.

Monday, September 2, 2013

No Air Conditioning for You

Some Texas guards and inmates want air conditioning. They say it's dangerous to be exposed to the heat and it's inhumane.

Here's a reality check: I work all day in the heat and I pay for the prison system. So, they can all go suck eggs. I don't have air conditioning; they don't have air conditioning. It's that simple.

So, If We Go to War With Syria, Who Do We Send?

For starters, we need to send John Kerry. Of course, he'll need some training, since he won't be on a boat; he'll get an infantry platoon, filled with Congress folks. He should do well - for the first 12 hours in country. After that, I have the feeling he'll have a grenade for his morning sabbatical and I'm betting Nancy Pelosi will pull the pin.

Next is the President. He'll need a lot of training. A typical time in basic, with a little advanced training, should prepare him for the front lines. He needs that experience to learn how it feels to be sent to a place where everybody is the enemy and your only friends are watching your back.

Lindsay Graham can go, also. He doesn't appear to be very physical, so he needs to be taught some Arabic, after basic training. He can act as interpreter as the troops wander between houses and hope their asses aren't blown off by some kid with a few pounds of C-4 strapped to his ass.

Hillary needs to go. She doesn't need any training. We just parachute her into the middle of the fray. I have the feeling she'll scare them so bad, they'll run. I know I would.

So, there's a good start. There's plenty more to send, although I have the feeling they'll be hard to find when they realize they can't say no to being sent.  Harry Reid will be the best. Vegas will be betting on the day he's found and sent. I'd put a few hundred on that bet. It would be money well spent.

So What's The Deal?

Back in 2009, John Kerry broke bread with Assad.  This was after almost a decade of a very unhealthy relationship with Syria; including military clashes along the Syrian/Iraq border and their continuing help to terrorists.

So, why was then Senator Kerry sitting down and eating with an enemy? Was he hoping to slip him some poison? I doubt it. We'll never know the entire conversation, but I have a strong feeling it had ties to a political agenda and the quest by the Democratic Party to get foreign powers on board; even soliciting some money if necessary.

I'm guessing the current effort to destroy Syria with U.S. forces is backed by a guarantee Assad is given sanctuary in some villa away from the worries of the world. Whatever he was up to is complete, or he's refusing to play any longer. Either way, if he doesn't keep his mouth shut, his next step is a silenced bullet in the temple one autumn morning.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Blue Tops

Decades ago, after the layout crew drove the stakes to alignment and grade, they took a piece of blue lumber crayon and marked the top of the stake. This gave the stake a distinction when the earth, or base finally reached grade. Without it, the wood stake was damned near impossible to discern among the similar colored material.

While this helped to locate the stake, the motor grader operator still needed a helper. That helper "ran the blue tops" with the operator to keep them exposed and tell the operator how much high, or low, they were with the grade.

I had the "opportunity" to run blue tops; even for long periods of time. Others avoided it, but I relished it over other labor work. No heavy lifting was required and it gave me the opportunity to work with the survey crew when they were setting new, or replacing stakes. Learning how to set grade was a step up from grunt work and I intended to move beyond just being a laborer.

So how was it? There was a lot of running; especially when you had a good operator. As he motored along adjusting his machine, I would quickly uncover the stakes as he passed, or tap them back into the hole, if he managed to pull one loose. After that, I had to run to get in front, gauge the amount of fill, or cut, and signal the operator.

As we worked, the compactors worked along behind. The constant weight was steadily compacting the material, which would eventually reach the required density.

 A good operator would pass over the stake almost on grade, which would only require a quick swipe with my boot to uncover the stake and hurry to the next.

A bad operator could cover the stake with enough material to make it hard to find. Uncovering the stake took longer, which meant a sprint to the next stake to keep up.

With an asphalt road, the base grade would eventually be so close, the stakes weren't really relevant. At that point, the operator's skills came into play. They would set the blade, hardly touch the controls and the "ride" was established. While the stakes were important, the final profile of the road was more important. The operator would remove the final imperfections of grade stakes and the final compacted material was sprayed with an asphalt prime. After that, either a seal coat or asphalt was placed.

I'm guessing I was in the best shape of my life at that time. Considering I was getting paid to be running in the outdoors, the trade of physical fitness for money was a pretty good deal. Other than the pay, I'm thinking there are people - stuffed into a cubicle - that wish they had the same opportunity.

Grappling With a Thought

I've been trying to write about the feelings of helplessness, loss and sadness when an older loved one reaches the point they will never become better. It's been tough to put the thoughts into words, but I will. I think it's important to relate the experience and let those that will one day face the same feelings know what it's like to care for someone at an advanced age.

A Little Analysis

Sarin is some bad stuff. The good thing about it is it's unstable and doesn't last very long, which means it requires special efforts to purify and contain it.....or it's use could be accidental, such as a group of fanatical rebels that acquired the recipe, mixed some haphazardly, spilled it on their clothes, ran into the surrounding crowded streets, and caused the deaths of thousands.

Wait! Am I suggesting that might have happened in Syria?

Well, I can't fool you, can I? Of course that's what I'm suggesting.

Meanwhile, while politicians are rattling their swords, spouting copious amounts of horseshit and trying on their big-boy pants, Iran is purifying uranium at an accelerated rate and some international banker is salivating at the possibility of another world conflict. After all, the last one was long ago and these younger bankers want their chance at the money making opportunity.

If the politicians want to practice at being humanitarian, they should start by lowering the taxes on working stiffs, trimming from the obese ass of the government, allowing our economy to grow and letting the world know our system works and they can follow our example.

It's not that I don't have any compassion for foreign citizens. I think we could help, but a few rounds at a U.N. get-together would be cheaper and yield much better results.