A Lonely Call

This morning, the twilight revealed a raft of mackerel clouds, with a pale moon behind. The light wind from the North was chilling as it drifted across the local lake.

As the day progressed, clouds thickened from the Southwest; and this evening, the clouds were heavy, with rain on the way.

I stepped outside a few minutes ago to observe the early night. The clouds are low, and the night is still.

Overhead, I heard the honk of a solitary goose calling to a lost flock. The call was frantic, and I listened until it faded in the distance.

This a first for me. I've heard geese in the night; numerous calls as they flew overhead. It was saddening, and sobering to hear the forlorn call from the single goose.  I can only hope it finally finds the flock it lost in its travels.

If You Received a Bag of Coal...

....don't fret. It's probably worth more than most of the Christmas gifts you received.

Merry Christmas!

I'll be away from the computer, so I'm wishing all that find my little corner of the Internet a very Merry Christmas. May all find a peace never felt before, and enjoy a day of contentment.

Happy Holidays?

When I hear "Happy Holidays", the first thing that crosses my mind is "What holidays?"

Should I be buying eggs, and dyeing them different colors? Or, getting out the pit, buying some brisket, and stocking up on fireworks? Is it time to buy a turkey, make pumpkin pies, and celebrate the first feast of the Pilgrims?

It's Christmas. It's the Christian celebration of the birth of Christ, with families coming together, with friends, the exchange of gifts, and perpetuating the belief of a fat man climbing down the chimney to bring gifts.

So, if you're offended by "Merry Christmas", go soak your head; take a long walk on a short pier; take too many sleeping pills, or just jump from a tall bridge. Christmas is about peace, charity, and good will to all - except those so willing to politically destroy the holiday. Even if you're not Christian, relish the pure love that Christmas demands, and take a break from being an asshole.

Different Weather

Last week was warm. High temperatures were in the eighties, and lows in the upper sixties. The weekend brought clouds, and an eventual cold front. By yesterday evening, it was still raining, the temperature fell to the low fifties, and the forecast called for what we had today, but it didn't follow the usual progression of weather.

Today, the morning started with clear skies, and temperatures in the upper fifties and low sixties. This afternoon, it was still clear, and the temperatures were in the middle seventies. Unlike the usual cold day following a cold front, it was though it washed out, the sky cleared, and warm temperatures returned.

The forecast for the middle of the week calls for rain, another front, and temperatures more like December. We'll see. Up to now, it's been a little strange, and I won't be surprised if this continues.

Busy, and It Always Busy

Being busy had its advantages, but it doesn't leave much time for writing.

Bleh!

Clueless

I was reading a news story; and I found one of those teaser ads at the bottom stating there are 24 celebrities married to each other, and I didn't have a clue on who they were.

I'll remain ignorant on this subject. I think it's because I don't care.

Turkey Day

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day.

Now, I know some people get their panties in a knot over the holiday, since there's so much political garbage associated with how the nation started; but I really don't give a rodent's fanny about such things.

The United States is a miracle. If you throw all the crap away, and look at what it took to survive when the Pilgrims landed, our lives of energy through wires, and pipes; food for just about everyone with enough sense to find it; modern medicine; shelter from the elements; and the liberty that's more precious than many understand, there are few that understood what it took to survive in the beginning.

For those all butt-hurt about the holiday: Turn off your lights, shut down the heat, don't eat for the next 36 hours, and wallow in your self-righteous pity. You have much to be thankful for, and should celebrate your blessings. I'd rather tell you to blow out your ear, but I decided to be polite with this post.

Finger Crossing

I've worked many years next to traffic, and today I realized how much it's all about crossing my fingers some clown, texting or not paying attention, doesn't wander into the place I'm standing and turn me into worm food.

Bleh!

Not My Cross To Bear - The Allman Brothers

A Call to Aunt Rose

"Hello"

"Hi Aunt Rose. It's me, Todd."

"It's been awhile since I heard from you. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Aunt Rose. I was thinking about you, so I decided to call."

"I wish you had thought about me last month. Didn't your mother tell you I had knee surgery?"

"She did, but I was busy."

"Busy? I'm on the way to school. I had to hire a local kid to put out my garbage."

"Well, school is taking a lot of my time."

"I saw your  "lot of my time" on television. You were standing with all those students protesting about some kid getting his feelings hurt."

"This is important. The university President didn't handle the problem, when a student was called the "N" word."

"So, you weren't going to class because someone was called a bad name?"

"It's more than that. There's not enough diversity in the University of Missouri."

"Not enough diversity? What does that have to do with you? After all, your late Uncle Bill worked hard for all those years, left me some money, and told me on his death bed he wanted me to help you through college. His words were: "That boy can sure throw a football". Your mother said you didn't even try out for the team."

"I decided to become more involved with helping with important causes."

"It looks to me you're more involved with not going to school and standing around.....and what's the reason for chasing the reporters away? Isn't your major in communications?"

"It is, but..."

"Tell me how you can communicate, be in the media, or advertising, and you won't give anyone the time to speak their mind, or ask you questions?"

"Well......."

"And how can you finish school, if you spend more time standing around than studying?"

"But....."

"I don't think you understand how blessed you've been with me paying your tuition, and helping with your college."

"I don't...."

"Lord knows your mother worked too hard for too many years, just to keep food on the table, and a roof over your head."

"I can...."

"I think the only reason you called was to get more money, so you can play at life, and ignore your responsibilities. Hy-Vee is hiring baggers. I think you need to take some time in the real world, and learn how to appreciate how much you've been given."

***click***

"Aunt Rose?.....Aunt Rose!!!!"

Pink Floyd - "Us And Them"

Projected Increases

I was listening to a news report on the radio, which stated the Postal Service is predicting a 10% increase in holiday mailings. My mind started wandering, and I had a few questions:

How do they come up with this data? Do they ask people with questions like: "As a percentage, what is your projected increase in mailings this Christmas?" If so, who do they ask? I know they didn't ask me, and I'm curious about whether any of my readers were asked.

If they didn't ask anyone, how much did they arrive with their data, and how much did it cost? I can see some bureaucrat trying to justify their salary - which is wasted on their daily internet surfing - and thinking: "I think we need to hire a consulting firm to determine if we need to increase our spending to cover the costs of increased mailings this holiday season." After that, they convince their supervisor, who is a bigger waste of tax dollars, and it's on. After all, if they spend too much, they'll just beg for more of the Chinese loan money to cover their asses. Of course, the consulting firm manufactures all the data, places it in a shiny Powerpoint presentation, and even the smartest Senator will be impressed.

So, I'm sitting here and wondering about the report, while thinking of what difference it really makes if the Postal Service is a little behind, and someone doesn't get a Christmas card, until after Christmas day. Will the world end? Of course not. Will someone's life be terribly affected if Aunt Martha's three armed sweater doesn't arrive until New Years? I doubt it.

So, once again, my thoughts are on another great mystery that has no answer. I know in my heart I'll never have the answer, so I'll place it in the file with my question on why fast food restaurant clerks can't remember I told them "to go" in the few seconds required to repeat my order. I guess these things are like black holes. They exist, but it will take some really patient scientist to convince me an entire star is compressed to the size of nothing.

Nonsense

Life is short
Time is real
So why does it all
Have to be uphill?

Election Cycle?

"Cycle" is defined as a serious of repeating events. At one time, it was an accurate description of the process of electing a President. Since this is now a constant event, electing the President is now an "election drudgery".

You're welcome. Now you can better define your irritation at the constant bombardment of hype, rhetoric, and stupidity.


_ and I have to add a comment on the candidates: They don't sweat, they don't have blemishes, they wear makeup, and not a hair is out of place. It's like we're electing someone to accept the Academy Award, instead of someone to run the United States. We don't elect Presidents anymore; we elect the best supporting actor, or actress, in a movie loosely based on reality. 

Dodging the Bullet

Hurricane Patricia pumped a huge amount of moisture into the atmosphere. The moisture allowed a developing low over the Gulf of Mexico to have more than abundant rain.

Houston received up to 10 inches in some areas, which caused some flooding, but they were prepared, and it appears the damage will be minimal. Locally, it's in the three to five inch amount, which could have been more.

So, the storm is passing my area, most of the rain is in the Gulf of Mexico, and the future of the weather to the East, is soggy. Louisiana, and Mississippi are next.

 I have the feeling the low will track across the South, and the East Coast can expect a Nor'easter. It's that time of year, and this storm can be a surprise for many. It's more intense than the normal low, and it will bring much bad weather for those in its path.

School Bus Traffic Jam

I watched a school bus pull up to a day care center this evening. While this may be a common occurrence, the event was notable.

It took forever for the children to disembark. Not only were they oblivious of the time they were wasting, their handlers didn't seem to care. To add insult to injury, the children stepped from the bus, and appeared as though they were arriving somewhere they had never been before. Their slack-jawed wonder of something they've probably seen for months was an indication of an inability to process information; and expedite their way through life, without supervision to the age of twenty seven.

I know being a parent is tough, and teaching your children is a tough job, but teach them to haul ass, when they leave the school bus...and stop wasting my time.

Blue Jay Morning

Summer lost its hold over that last week. We had some hot days, but mornings were cooler, and a front on Friday brought more dry, cool air, so this morning is in the low sixties, and the promise of more deep blue skies; maybe filled with mare's tails, like yesterday.

I walked outside to feel the morning. The front had lost its punch, so the wind backing to the east is filling with moisture, and the crispness is waning. Still, it was a pleasant relief from the summer mornings, with temperatures pushing eighty degrees, and a humidity near 100 percent.

The blue jays were fussing in the distance; their sharp caws a warning to their own, and any other species that knows they do so to alert, or move a predator to other prey. I looked, and listened, as they moved my way.

The focus of their attention caught my eye, as it landed at the top of large white oak. The sunlight had not quite reached the top of the trees, so its plumage was dull in the increasing light.

It was a hawk; large, but not huge, so it took a few moments to determine the species. The plumage was familiar, but the solid tail didn't look the right color. Before the sun could find its perch, it flew away, as the blue jays landed on adjoining branches; calling for support and fussing.

I think it was it was a red tailed hawk; maybe a juvenile, or the light didn't accentuate the color of its tail. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but the solid tail, and plumage pattern was the same as a red tailed hawk.

I knew it was around, since I'd seen it in the evening, as it flew over the top of the trees. The blue jays always announced its presence, but its quick passage never allowed a closer look.

I'd found traces of its hunts. Strange clumps of dove feathers would be in the yard, but unlike that of a cat, there was no blood, or pieces of the dove, Finding its prey in flight, or perched in the top of a tree, the feathers were lost as the talons grasped the prey, and the quick acceleration removed clusters of feathers.

With the retreat of their enemy, the blue jays stopped their raucous complaint, and settled back into their morning routine. The rest of the birds did the same, and only the sounds of an awakening morning were left.

I stood for a moment longer, and went on my own hunt for a cup of coffee; my thoughts on the rich taste, and the start of a beautiful day. I think I'll sit on the back porch, and wait for the sun to rise above the trees.

Eric Clapton: Five Long Years

Slowing Down the Thoughts

I know I haven't been writing much. I go through phases where nothing sounds right, or picking out the words seems too tedious.

At first, I started to ignore the urge to write this morning, but something caught my eye, and it was too remarkable to ignore.

I was sitting on the back porch, watching as the first rays of the sun peeked through the trees. The air was clear, the temperature a little to warm to call brisk, and it was completely still.

The hummingbird feeder appeared as a brilliant globe of energy trapped between two red disks. As I watched, a female hummingbird came to feed; obviously a straggler, since she refused to perch on the edges.

Her wings were a dim blur, and the sunlight made it appear as if she was surrounded by field of light. As she fed, her tiny tongue darted into the feeder multiple times per second; tiny electrical discharges as she fed on pure energy.

She fed for a half dozen seconds, backed away, returned for another taste, and was gone; a small streak disappearing into the morning sky.

I had no camera, so the event was only etched into my memory; the words a poor attempt to document a sight too unique to allow to slip through the cracks of my thoughts.

Electronic Message Boards

I use them on projects. The electronic message board can be set up on the side of the shoulder and important messages programmed to alert drivers of upcoming traffic problems.

There are rules of how many lines and panels. That, and there is a list of approved abbreviations to help with the limited space for words. All, in all, they usually help, although I sometimes think they're more lawyer repellents, than public information.

I've never place anything objectionable on a board, although one message came to mind yesterday. Traffic was the usual fubared congregation of pinheads, and aggressive drivers that ignored the message board that warned them of a closed lane ahead.

The board was at least a mile from the lane closure, and warned of the right lane being closed. To a good driver, this means to immediately start making an effort to get in the left lane. To the dumbass, this means driving all the way to the barrels, and try to squeeze in. After all, their time is much more important than the time of everyone else.

My objectionable message?

First panel: "RIGHT LANE CLOSED AHEAD"

Second panel: "DUMBASSES MUST MERGE LEFT TOO"

That message would have led to many complaints, although a simple response from an official, such as: "I don't know why you're so upset, unless you're a dumbass." would have ended the conversation.

Anyway, some important things could be placed on the message boards. Unfortunately, people are so anal these days, somebody would have some health problem after reading their behavior described, and run off into the ditch.

It Knew (Re-Post)

It knew. It knew almost everything there was to know. Nothing ever discovered, that lived, was examined or happened was beyond its knowledge. The secrets of everything were known and nothing was missing.

The original formation was known. So was the combination of events that led to life, including physical phenomena and chance happenings that created the right moment.

All life forms, and their genetics were known. Every species was known; both living and extinct. There was no conjecture, or unknown events. Time periods almost incomprehensible allowed examination, research and the recreation of everything that happened and nothing was missed.

Now, on an impossibly tall platform placed to observe the heavens, and the adjoining planet, it was all that was left. Scanning constantly, nothing escaped its attention. It observed the dull light of a star that had long since died. Nuclear fusion was over. The final outcome of billions of years was almost inconsequential compared to the huge swirl of light accentuated by a large area of complete darkness.

Time passed on, yet stood still. The culmination of knowledge only waited, since there was nothing left to do, but observe and – maybe – be relieved of the constant waiting and allowed to pass the knowledge on.

There was only one empty section of knowledge that remained. Awaiting input, it could only accumulate what could be observed. The information was stored in the enormous archives available, or created in the moon it occupied. Energy was available from fusion. Machines could add more space, if necessary. Time had no meaning; data was constant and forever was a point without reference.

The creators were gone. Having passed through uncountable phases, they settled with an organic vessel. Machinery, even the most sophisticated, was incomplete for experiencing the unique experience called life. While it seemed life could be controlled, it never was. The fantastic constant modifications always gave new experiences that could never be anticipated. Unfortunately, this choice led to the departure. Organic forms couldn't survive here any longer. Ionizing radiation was far beyond what could be shielded.

So, now it was all that was left, with a purpose to pass on information. The charred remains of the third planet would mark the location where it began. If the original inhabitants returned, their new information could be added to the archive. They could add their experiences of travel to other galaxies, much younger than that what once was called the Milky Way; now greatly consumed by the central black hole. It was their beacon and marker; a sophisticated pile of rocks, which their ancestors used to mark their passage; an irony of myriads of millenniums.

Old Led Zeppelin for a Sunday Afternoon

Hummingbirds

This is the first summer of my life, where I fed, and watched, hummingbirds. It's been rewarding; mostly because their existence is fascinating.

It's probably good hummingbirds are so small. If they were as large as a crow, their territorial fights would end with broken windows and mayhem around the yard. They don't get along well with each other, and it's not uncommon to see one become "Emperor" of the feeder, and spend almost all its energy chasing off other hummingbirds that come to feed.

Still, they give me moments of peace. When one finally comes to the feeder, and decide it's where to feed, it's comforting to watch such a tiny critter finally roost, after it's full of the sugar water I provided.

It's time for the hummingbirds to move further south, and eventually arrive at their winter grounds. Until then  I'll enjoy their antics, as they wander around the yard and feed at the feeder. Some will return next Spring. I'll enjoy them, when they return.

A New Stupidity

I might be more observant, but I doubt it.

 I find more people - mostly young - walk down the street, without any knowledge of the traffic approaching, and in the travel lane. While this is inherently dangerous, the attitude of not paying intention appears to be due to stupidity. To exacerbate this problem, many are walking with their heads down, while they examine their cell phone.

The only cure for this problem involves logical thinking. I'm afraid such efforts are becoming more difficult for too many people.

Anonymity Forever (Re-post)

I'm a little amazed on the perspective of the passage of time, as we age. Time seems to pass quickly, and the long days of youth become short days after time. 

I wrote the following story after some thoughts, and the thoughts pervaded, until I wrote them down. 

It's a repeat, but I hope those that read it before enjoy it again.

                                                                      ***

As Tia walked into the large park, she was reminded of how much she loved late Spring. The foliage was full, lilies were in full bloom and the cool morning air was exhilarating. Taking a deep breath, she relished the moment and continued on with her task.

She was a little apprehensive, since she didn’t know who she was going to meet, but she knew the park was usually full of people and she’d probably be safe.

As she continued around a short bend in the sidewalk, she found she could observe the central area, with the benches and – hopefully – the man she was supposed to meet.

He was there; sitting by the large oak, which he described. At that distance, she could only start observing the man. Slowing her steps, she decided to take her time and cautiously approach.

As she walked, she thought of the short note she received from the man the day before. She wasn’t startled by receiving something written on paper, since many had now abandoned electronic communications. They, like her, liked their privacy and felt all the laws now in place didn’t do enough to prevent eavesdropping.

Tia was successful, but she still found her success surprising. Ten years before, she would have never envisioned her life at this moment.

Fresh out of college, with her journalism degree, she’d worked at a few news outlets; only to find the work mind numbing.  Sensationalism was more important than full stories, which was typical for most news, but not what she wanted to do.

Blessed with an old printing shop, which was an inheritance from her grandfather, she started spending evenings, and weekends printing a small flyer, which she’d leave in public places for free.

Over a short period of time, she found the flyers were disappearing faster than she could put them out. At first, she thought they were just being thrown away, until a local shop owner asked to advertise. Surprised, she offered a few free ads, which led the shop owner to asking for rates and a larger space.

Soon, she had more people asking for ad space and found she couldn’t stay employed and keep publishing her flyer. Saying some prayers, and going all out, she decided to live on her meager savings, moved into the small apartment behind the old shop, and soon found she was the editor/publisher of a small newsletter that was struggling, but keeping her alive.

Some former coworkers teased her; only for awhile. She knew she was on to something, when a reporter from a large news station asked for the opportunity to post an article. They felt they were basically inconsequential at their job and wanted an opportunity to present something they found important; even if their media bosses thought it was not.

It wasn’t long after the article that her newsletter turned into a newspaper, which involved dealing with a bank, investing in new equipment and hiring people to help with distributing her paper. It was daunting at first, but she was a natural at her trade. In spite of her new responsibilities, she refused to succumb to just being “the boss” and was constantly involved with all aspects of her newspaper.

She was close to reaching the man on the bench. She could now see he was older, yet it was hard to determine his age. At first glance, he appeared ancient, but closer inspection made her think he was around 70; maybe younger.

Deliberately walking as far away from him she could, she slowed, preparing to stop, when he said: “You must be Tia” as he looked up.

“I am”

Rising slowly, he reached to shake her hand. As she took his hand, he smiled and said: “I’m pleased to meet you.”

She realized his grip was firm, yet belayed a strength she didn’t usually find in older people. She carefully examined his face and realized she still couldn’t determine his age.

His hair was gray, yet his neatly trimmed beard was flecked with brown. He had many wrinkles, yet his skin had a youthful glow and lacked age spots. His hazel eyes were clear, had no redness and sparkled when he soon responded to her gaze: “Are you finding what you’re looking for?”

Embarrassed, she replied: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, but it’s one of those things I’ve always done. I try to gather as much information from someone as possible, and examining their face is one source that reveals more than people realize.”

He continued to smile and asked: “And, what did you gather?”

Without thinking, she responded: “Not enough.”

He laughed and motioned for her to sit.

He soon spoke: “I know you’re wondering why I asked you here, so I won’t waste your time with trivialities.”

“You can call me Ed Johnson. That’s not my real name, but it will do for now.”

Tia just sat and waited.

Ed turned, stared toward the horizon and his eyes glazed, as he started speaking; his smile now gone.

“I’ve observed many things during my lifetime. Some good, some bad and many that seemed inconsequential at the time. Mostly, my observations were of people and what they find motivating. That’s why I chose you.”

Tia responded: “Chose me for what?”

Smiling again, he explained: “First, I must give you this.” Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a memory stick and handed it to Tia.

“You will have plenty of time to examine it over time; and it will take awhile.”

Tia looked at his face, which still revealed little, and took the memory stick. Before she could ask any question, he turned away again and started speaking: “You’ll find my real name there, and my journal, with photos. “

He continued: “Years ago, while studying, I met a group of doctors that can only be described as amazing. Not only were they geniuses, I’ve never found anyone as compassionate, and devoted as they were. They allowed me to become involved with their project, with the explicit demand I kept their work secret. I agreed and was soon amazed by their discovery.”

Ed paused, while continuing to stare across the park. Impatient, Tia soon asked: “What discovery?”

Ed waited a long time before answering: “A compound that slows aging.”

Tia, feeling a little used, responded with a low “Humph”, which caused a response from Ed.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me, but there’s sufficient proof on that memory stick, with documentation that is infallible.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you’re not a prankster, or demented?”

With a quick laugh, Ed responded: “Of course not. I wouldn’t think much of you, if you took me at my word.”

Now confused, and a little angry, Tia began to wonder why she came.

Ed, realizing she was feeling like the victim of a practical joke, placed his hand on hers and said: “I need to explain a little more. After that, you can leave to go over the information I gave.”

Still angry, Tia waited for him to continue.

With a wry smile, Ed continued: “People don’t change very much. The basic wants and desires never change, but society does. What we call evil is rarely the wish of many; it’s usually the result of manipulation of only a few seeking power, without any qualms of the harm their efforts may cause. That’s why I chose you. Your rare talents and opportunities offer what I consider a brief chance of doing something that will change the world. Regardless of the outcome, I believe my choice is best.”

Tia, now interested, was quick to respond: “So, tell me what this has to do with me.”

Pausing, then sighing, Ed continued: “What I will soon say will make you think I’m insane. I can accept that, but I have the feeling time will prove otherwise.”

Tia waited.

“I’m 150 years old.”

Quick to anger, and not amused, Tia rose to leave and said: “I knew it.”

Ed quickly grabbed her arm and said: “I knew your great grandfather. Please allow me a few more minutes”

Her anger now overwhelmed by her curiosity, Tia sat again, and waited for him to continue.

Over the next ten minutes, Ed described meeting Tia’s great grandfather, helping him establish the printing business that was eventually closed by her grandfather, and how they’d spent many days fishing on the pier that burned down when she was a child. He knew facts only the family knew, and he described the final days of her great grandmother with enough detail to make her know he was either very resourceful, or actually was present at her demise.

Turning to say something, she realized Ed had tears in his eyes.

“That was one of the saddest days in my life. I loved your great grandmother like family and her passing was terrible to watch. Cancer treatment was brutal and fruitless at that time. Your great grandfather was devastated and never really recovered from the event.”

They both sat quietly for a few minutes. Ed was first to speak: “I have this hope that the dismal future of our society will be changed by what I gave you. You have the opportunity to not only change how information is passed, you have the audience of those that can think, will respond readily and make the difference that will be required to enable a bright future for our species.”

Tia could only sit and wait for Ed to continue.

“Included in the information is the formula for the compound that slows aging. Those wonderful doctors that created the compound are now all gone, due to the idiosyncrasies of fate. The last doctor fell from a ladder last week, while pruning a tree in his yard. The rest all died accidentally, so my vow to secrecy can now be broken.”

Tia, wondering, asked: “So what is it you want me to do?”

Ed shook his head, and laughed: “I have no specific instructions. It’s all completely up to you. I have enough of the compound to last for a long, long time and will soon move to continue hiding my identity. Even if you wanted to expose me, you’ll never find me.”

Smiling, Tia could only respond with a quick: “Okay”

Ed rose, reached out his hand and shook Tia’s hand one last time: “It’s been a real pleasure and you’ll never know how much this means to me.”

Quickly, he left. Tia watched as he walked away, and soon disappeared around the bend in the sidewalk.

Tia continued sitting on the bench and stared across the park. Her mind was racing with numerous thoughts, but the one nagging thought she’d been the victim of a prank wouldn’t leave.

Whispering to herself, she said: “We’ll soon find out.”

Rising from the bench, she quickly started toward her shop. As she walked, she now wasn’t the least bit interested in the beautiful gardens and foliage of the park. She had to know and it would bother her until she did.  

Highway Stripes

Most people don't know what highway stripes signify. That,and the distance between stripes

The stripes are 10 feet long, and forty feet from nose of stripe, to nose of stripe. Otherwise, there's thirty feet between each stripe.

Years ago, stripes were painted on the pavement. For decades, a thermoplastic is used instead. The plastic arrives in bags, is heated in pots, and sprayed like paint on the pavement. As the plastic is sprayed, glass beads are sprinkled on top to add reflectivity at night. Without it, the stripes are hardly seen, and water on the paving almost completely obscures.

Stripes have different colors, but for highway markings, they are yellow and white. White designates the lanes in one direction, and yellow is used to signify the boundary between opposing traffic lanes.

Broken lines are used to indicate lanes. On a highway with only two way traffic, these stripes are yellow, since traffic flows both ways. On highways with multiple lanes, the broken lines are white.

Solid lines indicate the driver is to keep inside their lane and not cross the line. On highways with two lanes, and opposing traffic, the line on the right will be a solid white, and the line between opposing traffic will be solid yellow. In curves, a broken yellow line will have a solid yellow line adjacent to signify which lane of traffic is not to pass slower traffic. If it's on the side you're driving on, it indicates you are prohibited to pass, and the line will remain, until there's enough sight distance to pass safely. If there are two solid lines, crossing the center line is prohibited for both lanes of traffic.

On multiple lane highways, the right line is solid white, except where it follows the right side of an exit ramp. Beyond the ramp, the white line continues. Entrance ramps will have a safety "island" of diagonal stripes before the break at the entrance. The merging lane white line eventually ties into the white line in the outside travel lane.

A yellow solid line is found on the left side of the inside lane of multiple lane highways. Even if there's a large grass median, the yellow line is painted to signify the demarcation of opposing lanes of traffic.

Solid lines come in different widths. The typical four inch solid line indicates travel across the line is cautioned and only for a specific purpose. Roads with continuous center turn lanes have these. Travel is allowed, but only with caution, and the lane is never to be treated as a travel lane. Drivers are expected to only use the lane for acceleration, and deceleration, when traffic allows. These line are left out at intersections and driveways.

Eight inch wide sold lines are never to be crossed. These are found at entrances, and exits, to signify the traffic in the other lane has the right of way, and dangerous conditions are presented if a driver crosses the line. When the eight inch line is broken, it signifies a combination entrance/exit ramp, and drivers are to be extra cautions when crossing the line to exit, or merge.

Between the stripes, or on solid lines, raised reflective markers are placed to help mark the pavement at night, or in low light conditions, such as during a heavy rain. On two lane roads, the center of the lanes will have reflectors that show amber both ways. On multiple lane highways, the center line markers are white toward facing traffic, and red on the opposite side. Otherwise, if you you're driving, and see red reflective markers ahead, you're driving against traffic. An occasional blue marker indicates a fire hydrant is at that location.

If you got this far in this post, you're interested, and will notice such things as you drive. When you understand the basic rules for stripes, you begin to notice those that are worn, or missing reflective markers, which can be found scattered on the shoulder.

Whether interested, or not, the stripes on the highway are regulation markings. Failing to observe what they indicate can lead to traffic fines, or worse, a head-on collision on a rural highway, late at night.

One other thing: Years ago, an old TxDot worker asked me which lane I drove in, when going over an overpass on an empty highway late at night. I answered it depended, and he cautioned to always stay in the right lane. He further explained that someone driving the wrong direction will have a tendency to try and stay in what they think is the right lane. By staying in the right lane, the odds are they'll pass you, and you'll have another head-shaking moment to add to your list.

Summer Hangs On

We had a short cool spell last week, which yielded low sixties in the mornings, with highs in the mid eighties. It didn't last long, and Summer returned.

For the last week, it's been in the low to mid seventies near the coast in the mornings, and around ninety two in the afternoon. Rain is prevented by a ridge of high pressure, so the heat is hanging on.

This weather pattern will last a week, or so, but we'll get a front, some rain, and the sun won't be able to overcome the cool any longer. After that, the chilly evening will be filled with the aroma of burning leaves and the feel of Autumn will settle in.

I enjoy Autumn more than any other season. I like the temperature, the azure skies, and the brilliant oranges of sunset. I feel a contentment I find no other time of the year.

My Solution

We don't need bombs; we need coat hangers. Why? Because coat hangers are much more dangerous than bombs.

If we dropped thousands on our enemies, within seconds, they'd be so tangled up in coat hangers, they couldn't move. They would beg for wire cutters and never want to fight us again.

Another One Bites the Dust

Way back when, when dirt was still new, R.E.O Speedwagon was a far cry from the pop music that brought them fame. Gary Richrath cooked on the guitar.

He's passed. No reason was given for his passing, but at the young age of 65, there's no telling the cause.


May he rest in peace.

Fire and Steel

Steel is a wonderful building material, but has a fault that designers protect against, but there's never a guarantee it will work long enough.

The fault? Heat. At high temperatures, steel changes. The material becomes plastic, loses strength and fails as a structural support. In building fires, you can see the damage in the twisted girders and columns after the fire is extinguished. Intense heat caused the steel to loose rigidity, so the weight of the structure caused sagging, with an eventual failure.

With skyscrapers, this fault is known, so exposed steel is exposed to fire proofing. The fireproofing has a design problem, too. It's usually brittle, so impacts can lead to spalling of the material and exposing the steel. That, and poor workmanship. Without fireproofing, even low heat fires can cause damage to steel.

Even the rebar in a concrete foundation will distort in fire. After a containment pit was struck by lightning, the oil in the pit burned for over an hour, before it was extinguished. The damage was something I'd never seen before. Large concrete girders holding equipment lost the outside layer of concrete, when the concrete spalled due to the intense heat. The rebar between the stirrups was sagged like spaghetti, which I found surprising. I thought only an oxy/acetylene torch could provide such heat, but my thoughts were proven otherwise. Seeing one inch rebar sagging in two foot span was something to see.

The World Trade Center Towers were built of steel, but the structures were innovative. The core of the building provided most of the strength, and the floor were supported by trusses, with the external structure much lighter.

A truss is an interesting building component, since it's composed of small steel rods, and angles, which are constructed in a lattice work to gain strength through cross members and bracing. They work,are lightweight, can handle substantial loads, but are more susceptible to heat. Heat that takes a long time to cause a large steel member to start distorting, can cause distortion in a short period of time on a truss. I've read that firefighters are aware of this, and detest working a fire in buildings with trusses for supports.

When the jets hit the towers, they immediately caught fire. With almost full fuel tanks, the fires were destined to burn for a long time. Jet fuel, due to it's composition, burns at high BTU's and the temperature increases, when aided by strong drafts, such as those found on a tall building.

It's theorized the initial crash removed much of the fireproofing on the trusses, which exposed them to the heat. Since the trusses were supporting light weight concrete, their failure would lead to the materials on the floor they supported to fall to the floor below. If the floor held, the event would have ended, but there were multiple floors above the fire.

When the floors started falling, they slammed into the floor below the fire, which caused it to fail. The added weight sheared the other floor, and the debris fell to the next floor below. Within seconds, the banging of the floors was a constant noise included in the rumbling. Firefighters that survived described the banging as the floors collapsed and the buildings fell.

I've read of conspiracy theories about the destruction of the World Trade centers, but find they don't satisfy the known physics involved. Some may find it comforting to think something more sinister was the cause of the destruction, but it doesn't fit with what I've read about, and experienced.

The World Trade Towers were a marvel of modern architecture, and engineering, but the biggest fault was always there. While planes caused the fire, a conflagration of the same proportion, without any intention would have caused the same disaster. All that was needed was fire, and time.

Trains in the Distance.

I listen to train horns daily. Over time, they're just part of the background; the horn, and rumble of engine, something not allowed to distract.

When the weather is right, and the morning is very calm, the train horn reverberates; echoes returning after brief seconds and the lonesome sound almost leading to moments of melancholy. The sound is truly lonely and leads to sobering thoughts.

When I was about 15 years of age, my grandmother died one autumn. We returned to Oklahoma for the funeral, which was surreal and my first experience with the loss of a close family member.

The night after the funeral, before I fell asleep, I laid in bed, thinking of the day, and enjoying the chilly breeze that wafted through the window by my bed. I don't remember my thoughts, but I remember the haunting sound of a train horn off in the distance. I sat up for a moment, looked out the window, and examined the yard in the dim light. A chapter ended in my life. I knew I would probably never return to the house; and never did.

So, I listen to train horns, examine my thoughts, and relive moments in my life. It's a good thing and leads to moments of solace.

I Guess I Should Write More

If I had to summarize my life at the moment, I'd have to say I'm busy, or not, or have a lot on my mind, and need to write, but stay pissed off at politics and don't want my blog to be a consistent rant at the low life, puke crap, bottom feeding, thieving, lying, reprobate politicians that suck the life out of the country, have more vacations in one year than I've had in my career, and don't have a clue.

When the Real Issue is Avoided

Kim Davis is in jail because her conscience, due to her religious beliefs, prevented her from issuing marriage licenses that she would attest to, when signing. Otherwise, she didn't want to officially attest to something she might not agree with, or was unconscionable.

Some gay couples wanted a license, so they sued in Federal Court. The judge ordered her to issue marriage licenses. When she wouldn't, he held her in contempt and sent her to jail.

Some side with judge, and think his actions were appropriate. They believe the judge acted correctly in demanding Kim Davis issue marriage licenses, and sign the document.

Some side with Kim Davis. They believe the judge acted beyond his capacity and violated her rights.

Personally, I think the entire mess could have been avoided. Kentucky could have changed the form, or gone through the process of removing Kim Davis from her elected office. Of course, that would have taken time, might have not yielded the intended results, and the problem would have continued. Still, it was the correct method and those that didn't like the method could have changed it through the legislative process.

Those wanting the license, could have gone to another county. The clerks in those counties were issuing licenses to same sex couples.

So, we now have Federal Judge holding a woman in jail, without breaking any law, and he won't let her out, unless she signs marriage licenses she refuses to sign. The judge, who I feel didn't have the wisdom or experience to hold his office, now can't back down, even if his contempt order is beginning to look like a petty, arbitrary decision.

How will this end? It's going to get ugly. The radical gay activists have thrown down the gauntlet, without thinking of the perception of the public. Their rights don't supersede the rights of others, and with a woman in jail for no other reason than refusing to sign a document, their platform is shaky and they are only a very small percentage of the population. The process required by the Constitution was bypassed, judicial activism is removing the rights of other individuals, and the public is becoming angry at the audacity.

So what is the real issue? The right of an individual to determine their heirs and the automatic right to benefits allowed to heterosexual couples. That was not asking much, but Social Security benefits, and many pensions, prevent such things. Instead of changing the wording for legal rights of individuals, the entire definition of marriage was changed. I call that foolishness, but apparently, foolish behavior is common with government officials.

End of Summer

In these parts, Summer is slow to wind down. Usually, the hot, humid weather persists into late September or early October.

This year, we've had the first front, which is early. While the temperature drop was only around 10 degrees, the humidity drop was around 20%. That's huge, when you consider the difference. Where it's now just reaching 80 degrees at 10:00 am, only a few weeks ago the temperature would only fall a little below 80 and it would be 80 degrees by 8:00 each morning.

I'm watching the remnants of Erika. The low is off the southwest tip of Florida and heading North. An upper level low is steering the remnants up the coast, which will give South Florida some much needed rain. This weather pattern will lead to clouds, and lower humidity in my area, which will further cool the temperatures.

The end of Summer is looking like it's already here, and the cooler temperatures may last longer. I don't know for sure, but the changes underway are much more pleasant than high temperatures over 100 and high humidity to add to the misery.

Return of the Birds

No, not the movie. Migration is starting, so the hummingbirds, and other migratory birds, are appearing. I like that. It amazes me things so tiny can brave thousands of miles of travel, survive, and do it multiple times.

I'll keep the feeders full and enjoy the show.

What Do You Think?

In the news, the reports say Joe Biden went to meet with Elizabeth Warren over the weekend. This fueled much speculation, since Joe did so while Obama was on vacation, nobody really knows what the meeting was about, and all this happened right after China screwed with world markets. My only question is: Did anyone know Joe was out and about without supervision?

It's a crazy world today, but I'm only pointing out the obvious.

Stranger Things Have Happened

The Iran deals stinks, from what I've read, yet the President, and Secretary of State are supporting it to the point of fault? Why? Why is the United States so willing to concede everything, just to have a deal?

Some think it's Obama's ego, and his legacy promoting his support. The same is said about Kerry, but what if it's something worse? What if Hillary's server was so compromised, not only were State Department files hacked, but Military files were hacked, also? What is so important to risk the safety of the United States to allow a small country to continue with their nuclear program? Is it personal? Or, is it strategical?

I don't know, but this is all beginning to stink worse than before. It's tragic the United States is being run by such an incompetent group of arrogant politicians.

Loose Lips Sink Ships

The slogan during  WW II was a warning of how comment perceived as innocent could have drastic consequences. Enemies of the United States were looking for any information available to help with their effort to win the war.

Now, it's not so much as "loose lips", its electronic communications. Unsecured email accounts become treasures for anyone looking for information, and the consequences can be deadly. The name of a covert operative may lead to the death of the operative, or worse: their family and friends.

While the problem with Hillary Clinton's unsecured email server, with the unsecured messages, is being downplayed, the possibility that important information regarding the safety of taxpayers was frivolously placed for anyone with skills to retrieve.

What are the consequences? First, every email sent to Hillary Clinton, or sent by Hillary Clinton, may now be readily available to those that are willing to kill innocent people to promote their cause. To add insult to injury, every bit of top secret information accessible by the State Department can now only be assumed to be compromised.

So, now what happens? The usual song and dance has started, but the realization of the problems is just now becoming apparent to the general public. While many may think it's only an inconvenience, those that may have their lives destroyed, or have family members killed due to the incompetence, will hardly call their live changing experiences "inconvenient".

Meanwhile, the Attorney General is sitting on her hands. Her loyalty is obviously for a political ideology, instead of the safety of those that trusted the government to protect them from harm.

Something I Used To Never Think About

I had a day this week that reminded me of my mortality. The temperature was around 102, the humidity was a little high, and I found the heat was more than oppressive.

I was laying out a long ditch to drain a project. It wasn't hard work, but required a lot of walking. As I worked, I walked slowly, didn't hurry and was methodical in preventing any extra steps.

After I reached about 600 feet from my truck, I realized I needed some water, and the need to stop for a few minutes to sit in the air conditioning.

The distance was farther than I anticipated, and I realized the energy was gone. I'd been hot enough before to know heat exhaustion was setting in, and I needed to do something quickly.

Another employee was checking grade for an excavator one hundred feet away. They were waiting for the off-road dump truck to return for a load of dirt, so the machine was idle.

I motioned for him to go for my truck and bring it closer. He walked away, while I slowly walked to the machine and crouched under the counterweight for some shade.

As I waited for a few minutes, I thought of my brother, and wondered what through his mind during his last moments before heat finally killed him. I knew his angst. I knew his feeling of helplessness, and I knew he went from conscious thought to unconsciousness in seconds. Mostly, I wondered if he was aware of what was happening. There are only short moments between feeling able and the intense exhaustion, where walking becomes a challenge, and the dizziness appears.

Keeping my truck close, and retreating to the ac for a few minutes, when needed, I finished my task. The heat cramps started about thirty minutes later. Supplements helped keep the back cramps from doubling me over, but one in my thigh caused soreness for a few days.

Age brought a feebleness, and vulnerability I wasn't expecting. I don't like it, but I'll accept; and adapt. Where I could once work for long days, weeks at a time, in the intense heat, without any concerns, I now must be very careful, and learn my new limitations.

Picking Up The Garbage

I've never understood how people that will demand immediate action, when their garbage isn't removed from the curb, will idly sit and let the feckless Federal government waste so much money without getting anything done.

Maybe it's the size of the tasks, but still, if the trash isn't removed, the garbage continues to pile up at the curb.

Increasing Heat

Rain is not on the horizon, the temperature is supposed to reach the upper nineties to low hundreds, and the event is supposed to last to the middle of the week, at least.

The summer of 2011 was similar, and we had one worse in the late nineties, when afternoon temperatures reached 108. That was a brutal summer, and our work hours were 6:00 am to 2:30 pm. With temperatures over 100 by noon, it was dangerous to work in the brutal heat. Even those most accustomed to the work were beat by the early afternoon and close to dehydration.

So, we have another summer, where everything is the same, and everything is different. Like those before, it will end and Autumn will arrive.

I'm looking forward to the first morning, when the temperature is in the low sixties, and the afternoon high is less than eighty.

Joe Cocker - Summer In The City (From "Across from Midnight Tour" DVD)

The "Loving Spoonful" recorded the popular version. Joe Cocker added his own touch, and it's good.

Maybe a Good Class Action Suit

I've been reading how Planned Parenthood is harvesting fetal tissue, after the mothers sign releases to allow the process for "medical research". I wonder if there's an opportunity for a shrewd attorney to make billions by suing the organization for coercion by fraud, since the complete abortion procedure, dissection of the fetuses, and final disposition of the parts wasn't completely described by the abortionists? I think a good attorney would have a slam-dunk, if he can get enough women to join the suit.

As Summer Drags On

After too much rain, the last few weeks have little to none. The lack of moisture is showing in browning yards, drooping bushes and trees showing signs of stress. I've seen it before, and if this continues, August may bring days in the low hundreds and brutal days at work.

I've been watching the birds adjust to the conditions. Where they once had numerous places to find water, they now stay close to drink from the bird bath in the yard. Even the robins that usually stay away are coming for a drink and searching for insects, where spilled water may drive the insects they crave from their deep hiding places in the ground.

Mornings bring unusually dry air, which makes the low eighty temperatures bearable; even comfortable for those like me that work in the heat. The pleasant lack of humidity makes for enjoyable cups of coffee as the sun rises.

A group of showers almost made it this evening. I'm guessing it's a sign the high pressure dome is moving, or weakening. If this continues, the next few weeks may bring the violent summer thunderstorms, with lightning lacing the tops of clouds as the storms weaken in the late evening. If so, there will be some fascinating light shows as the light of evening finally fades.

Time will tell, but the last month of summer is almost here. September will probably bring the first cool front of the season, and a night with temperatures in the sixties. That might seem tame to some, but for this area, it's the start of the time of year when it's most pleasant. I'm eager for those days. I've had enough of summer.

Winners and Losers

The government has picked winners and losers. The winners are those with a seven figure income, government workers with a guaranteed pension, and those either right below, or at the poverty level. Everyone in between is facing higher costs for everything, worrying about the diminishing purchasing power of their money, and is not seeing anything that hints at necessary changes.

Why is this happening? Too many government officials sold their soul, ignored their vow to uphold the Constitution, and placed their grandchildren in debt. Big business, as well as lower income individuals, have successfully nestled against the belly of the country and suckle at the teats of public money.

We have the media to report about such things. The only problem is the media is as woefully clueless about the real world. Those in the media -  at best - had an early life experience of working with their hands, or in a menial job, which is only a sour taste of what is reality for hundreds of millions. They can't understand what it means to spend every summer, maybe for decades, waking two hours before sunrise, preparing for the day, and spending the next ten hours in heat that literally kills.They'll report about the deaths, or the hardships, but they're still clueless; and their concentration is sensational occurrences, or opportunities to expound on their self-proclaimed brilliance with world matters.

This won't last. Never has; never will. Ignoring those that make it all happen never leads to anything but turmoil, at best, and retribution, at worst. You can't exclude the importance of the producer to allow those that spectate a cushy existence, and those that run the government a better life than those that hired them to take care of the business of government.

Time will tell how this all works out, but the dissatisfaction of those that turn the nuts and bolts is becoming more apparent daily; in spite of the narrative of those that produce nothing but expenses, and hollow words. My advice is they pay attention. Civility is an orphan, when survival is a necessity.

Why Sharks Attack

Because they're hungry.

The solution to shark attacks? Don't swim with hungry sharks.

Loan Me A Dime Boz Scaggs

Quiet Moments of Contentment

I've been spending time in the backyard, mostly sitting quietly and watching the birds come to eat what I placed in various places around the yard.

I buy a large bag of wild bird seed from a local feed store,so I have plenty to scatter in the grass or place in a small feeder. The small feeder allows the smaller birds less competition from the doves and grackles, that can't perch on the edge.

During the last few months, I've watched a variety of birds. Most notable were the indigo buntings, a pair of rose breasted grosbeaks, night herons that hunted crayfish after heavy rains, and my favorite: red-belly woodpeckers.

A little over a month ago, I threw some old bread in the yard. As I sat, the usual blue jays, and crackles, came to take a piece of bread. The crackles would soak it in the bird bath before eating, or carry it to their fledglings. The blue-jays would dive, snatch a piece in a split second, and fly away.

A new bird arrived, made a threatening advance toward a crackle moving toward its prize, grabbed the piece of bread, and flew away. It was a woodpecker, but I had no idea what type.

After a little research, I found it was male red-bellied woodpecker. I wanted it to return, so I started placing bread in the evening. I was rewarded with its visit, and it would always grab one piece of bread and fly away.

Over the last two weeks, the woodpecker would return more than once. It never stopped to perch and eat, so I determined it was either shy, or feeding a mate, with fledglings.

Yesterday, I noticed the woodpecker fly to a pecan tree, and stuff the bread in a hollow depression on the top of a limb. I'd read it was common for woodpeckers to store food, so it didn't surprise me, but I was curious about the new behavior, until this morning.

Right before the sun rose, I placed some bread in the yard, and sat to watch the morning. A few blue jays came for some bread and soon the woodpecker landed, grabbed a piece, and flew to the spot on the tree where it was storing bread. It soon flew away, but I heard the call of a woodpecker within a few minutes. Glancing up, I saw a female woodpecker at the spot in the tree. I was thrilled, since I'd only seen the male, but was soon rewarded with another sight.

Two fledglings landed near the mother, that placed pieces of bread in the their mouths. After they ate what was there, she moved along the limbs, with the babies in tow, and pecked for bugs. She was teaching and feeding her young.

So, now I have a family of woodpeckers to watch. They give me peace at a time when there seems to be too much turmoil in the world. I consider it a blessing and treasure the moments.

Simple Solutions

The "immigration" problem has a simple solution. The solution? Remove the shelters. Make it a felony to rent, lease, or sell housing without identification and proof of citizenship, or a valid permit.

I know some might think this is harsh, but I'm angry about the tremendous amount of tax dollars used to deal with illegal aliens. They are not citizens, don't give a rodent's fanny about the United States, and their actual worth to the economy is blown out of proportion by those that benefit from cheap labor and government programs. All are criminals, many are violent offenders, and the United States suffers from them being here.

It's time this problem is handled. Enough is enough.

As The Presidential Race Slogs Along

Most of the candidates are talking about what their handlers suggest, except Donald Trump. He's focused on immigration at the moment, and what he's voicing reflects the concerns of millions of U.S. citizens. That's good, but I'd rather see the candidates talking about the rotten, pus-filled abscess called Washington, D.C. , and how they will hound the obvious law breakers, until they're either in jail, or pushed to the point they jump off a bridge into the Potomac. 

If the problems with the nation could be summarized to one word, that word would be "corruption". It describes everything wrong with our government and the problem won't be solved until the corruption is removed. 

Removing the corruption will be a daunting task, but the task will be easier if the removal starts at the top. Prosecute bureau heads, impeach judges that refuse to follow the Constitution, and remove the lobbying atmosphere that permeates the capital. 

I doubt the corruption in Washington will be addressed, since so many of those running for office are in the back pockets of those that ignore laws, and ethics, to perpetuate their power, or increase their fortunes. Too much money used to achieve office has a favor attached, and the favors rarely are in the best interest of most individuals. 

So, the abscess remain, will probably become worse, and the United States continues to suffer. I'd like to be more optimistic, but I'm not having much luck. The media, and teachers, are doing their best to keep voters ignorant. Too many people I encounter are woefully unable to make good decisions while voting, and the lure of government giveaways is too great. Otherwise, while they're swirling around the porcelain bowl, they have no idea their "treats" aren't really treats, and the final result is a place where they'll be treated like what is flushed. 

Dave Grusin - Mountain Dance

It Started with a Declaration

Today is Independence Day, which celebrates the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It marks a day when colonists finally had enough, declared their intentions, and Britain soon followed with armed troops to quell the insurrection. The British failed; and the greatest nation on Earth was formed with the blood, and fortunes, of those that believed liberty is the greatest gift from God. The suffering was great, many lost those they loved, and the experiment of a government that held that the individual is more important the collective soon started.

We're centuries beyond that point, and the efforts to destroy this country are probably stronger than when Great Britain decided to put the colonists back in their place. Still, the demand for liberty is as strong as ever. Ancestors of those that created the United States have the same genetics that led to the longing for liberty. Those that came after have the same longing.  It's a good thing and those that wish otherwise will find their efforts will lead to their disaster.

God bless the United States.

Civil Disobedience and Liberty

They're in the news; county officials refusing to perform same sex marriages, and some that simply quit. They refuse to compromise their morals for a group of nine individuals that decided to follow something beside the Constitution.

Further reading in the news reports a majority opinion that the Federal Government is huge threat to liberty, and that State's rights dictate ignoring mandates in violation of Constitutional guidelines.

So now what happens? I don't know, but I do know a substantial amount of U.S. citizens feel betrayed by their own government. They're not only concerned, they're starting to push back with threats, and actual acts of civil disobedience. Usually, that's a start for major changes. What changes actually happen remain to be seen, but a seething anger at the betrayal of liberty, fiscal irresponsibility, and embracing the tide of illegal immigrants is becoming more than just a few individuals the media can describe as "nutcases".

The media can respond responsibly, or they can ignore those that actually make the United States function. Either way, they've lost the trust of citizens, will find more animosity as they roam, and one day realize they're pawns, gave up something more precious than gold, and future generations will despise the generation of media that hid facts to promote an agenda.

What disturbed me most, while reading news, is the number of people that have no idea of why Independence Day is so significant. That lack of knowledge I blame on teachers. They too will find derision, animosity and realize their chosen profession is considered a threat to liberty.

Meanwhile, Down at the County Clerk's Office

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. We're here for a marriage license."

"Have you been together for long?"

" I guess you can say that."

"You're a fine looking couple."

"Now hold on a minute. We're not gay."

"I don't understand."

"I owe him thousands, and the only way I can pay him back is to marry him, give him half my 401K
and hope he still doesn't want to break my leg with a baseball bat."

"That's more than unusual, and it might not be legal."

"Not so. The Supreme Court ruled I can marry him, and he can have all the benefits of our marriage, if we divorce."

"That's not the way it works. The law only requires you to give half of your 401K for the period of time you were married."

"Maybe so, unless I agree to a settlement that gives him half."

"Still, there might be some problems."

"I doubt it. If I pay the attorney, and the paperwork is filed correctly, I can remove a huge burden hanging over my head, when we divorce."

"You may be right. Fill out the forms, and you'll have a fee to pay for the marriage."

"Sound good. I can get this done, and be down at Bill's for happy hour."

"Next."

Living in the Oligarchy

Oligarchy:

: a country, business, etc., that is controlled by a small group of people

: the people that control a country, business, etc.

: government or control by a small group of people


I can't think of a better description of the United States at this time. The President ignores the laws, Congress ignores the will of the people, and the Supreme Court rubber stamps whatever fits the agenda of tyranny. We were once a Constitutional Republic.

Meanwhile, At the Supreme Court

No matter your opinion on the two decisions that affected the entire nation, both created a divide, which isn't split down the middle. Ultimately, the resentment, removal of liberty, deception, attempts to force beliefs, and the attack on the Constitution will end in a swing of the pendulum in the other direction.

At this point, minority opinion is shaping laws. The majority opinion of the rest is now reinforced with resentment and bitter anger. They will not acquiesce, and those cheering will find their exposure will not be such a good thing in the future.

Me and Columbo

The following is fiction.

My wife loved her flower garden. That, the birds, and my nemeses: the squirrels. While the birds fascinated me, the squirrels dug in her planters, chewed on things that didn't require their chewing, and I was repairing a bird feeder at least once each year.

We'd sit on the covered patio, when the weather permitted, or in the den, when the weather didn't, and watch, while we drank coffee. The seed feeders were in view, so as the birds accumulated, we could watch as they initially came alone, or later, when they'd feed the hungry fledglings; insisting on being fed, with open mouths and complaining squawks.

After her passing, I tried to keep her flowers, but they reminded me too much of her and the scars that tugged and ached. I realized the sorrow was constant, when I worked the bed, so I tilled it and placed sod.

I left the bird feeders. The birds were like pets; and I relished their antics as they came for their seed. I'd anticipate the migrations, when a grosbeak would pass through to stop for a meal, or I'd glimpse a few indigo buntings on their way to their winter habitat.

I didn't like the squirrels, so I'd sit on the back patio, with a slingshot and scare them away. I'd thought of a pellet rifle, but didn't want to kill anything I didn't plan on eating. The slingshot worked, as long as I was on the porch. When I glimpsed through the window, they'd forage with impunity.

One small squirrel attracted my attention one summer. Young, and without predators, he'd only move away, or hide behind a tree, when I'd send a shot his way. Determined to change his ways, I bought marbles for projectiles. I figured I could change his attitude; especially if I managed to hit my intended target.

One morning, as it remained, after the other squirrels scampered away, I loaded my slingshot, carefully aimed, and sent a marble its way. It immediately fell over and was still.

I had one of those moments, when you say to yourself: "Now, what do I do?" Rising, I went to examine the squirrel. If it wasn't dead, I'd finish it off.

It was laying on its side; blood seeping from around its eye and slowly breathing. I raised my foot to stomp its head, when something told me to stop. Instead of ending its life, I squatted, nudged it with a stick laying by, and examined the squirrel that raised my ire.

After watching for a few minutes, I went to retrieve a box, placed an old towel for a bed, and placed the squirrel in the box. Returning to the patio, I left it on a corner, so it could escape, when it came around.

At dusk, I peeked into the box. The squirrel was still unconscious. No knowing what to do, I soaked some bread in milk, placed a jar lid full of water, and left it for the night in the box, which I moved to an inner corner of the porch. It looked like rain, and I didn't want the squirrel to get wet from the cold autumn rain.

When morning arrived, I made my coffee, looked at the box, and decided I'd probably have to bury the squirrel. Finishing my first cup, I eased onto the patio and glimpsed into the box.

The squirrel was awake; sitting quietly, and looked up as a I peered over the edge. I expected it to panic, but it only gazed at me.

I could tell it's eye was a mess. Now swollen shut, it seeped blood, which stained the fur. Some bread remained on it's mouth, and the lid of water was half empty.

Carefully reaching into the box, I retrieved the jar lid. The squirrel didn't move, so without thinking, I reached over and gently pet it on the shoulder. It moved, which caused me to jerk my hand away, but it didn't panic as I assumed it would.

Felling brave, I reached in again, pet it on the back. It moved, but not away. I spent a few moments gently running my finger on its back. It seemed to comfort it, but not willing to push my luck, I decided to go for some more bread and water.

For the next few days, I tended to my squirrel. I'd give it bread and water, or some pecans I'd bought. It would use the paper towel I'd placed in the corner, so I'd change it twice each day.

The eye remained shut, so I assumed the marble ruined the eye and caused a head injury. The latter became apparent when I turned the box on the side after a week.

The squirrel ventured from the box, but its unsteady gait, wobbling body, and disorientation confirmed the damage was great. It didn't venture far, and after a few minutes away from the box, it would return to its sanctuary.

I decided to call it "Columbo". A cursory glance after I hit it with the marble revealed it was a male, so Columbo was appropriate.

Columbo had no fear of me. I found it surprising, but figured it was a reaction to the only caretaker it had. He'd let me scratch his back, never made any effort to bite, and greedily ate the food I placed, or he ate from my fingers.

Columbo never regained his balance. Efforts to run resulted in a flopping gait, or caused him to fall to his side. He could only creep, or slowly climb. He'd climb into one of the chairs on the patio, and nap during the morning, when the sun would warm the porch from the cold of the night.

Before the first real cold snap of winter, I wondered if Columbo could survive without the protection of a nest, or a family of squirrels to cuddle with. Not knowing what else to do, I pulled his box into the den, left the door cracked, so he could leave if he wanted, and waited for his reaction.

It didn't seem to faze him. He climbed from his box, surveyed his immediate surroundings, and soon returned to his box. I gave him fresh water, a clean paper towel, and some pecans before I retreated to my chair by the television. Warm, and tired, I soon fell asleep to the sound of an old Western.

I awoke to the sound of a gunfight, running horses, and the voices of cowboys in the thick of battle. A movement in my lap startled me. Looking down, I found Columbo curled up, sound asleep, and content. Not wanting to disturb his sleep, I pet his back for a few moments, and soon returned to sleep. When I awoke in the morning, he was by the plate glass door; watching the cold wind stir the leaves in the yard. I retrieved the block of oak I gave him for gnawing, and we settled in for the winter.

I eventually brought Columbo to the vet. Nothing was wrong, but I felt it was the right thing to do.

The vet was a young woman, new to practice, and curious about Columbo. After I told her our story, she gave me a funny look, smiled and continued with her examination. She found nothing wrong, although she explained there wasn't much she knew about squirrels, and those that did, usually worked for a zoo. She gave me some phone numbers before I left, but I never called. She's told me to come back if something was wrong, gave me a hug, and we parted with her saying: "You're a sweet man. Most would have left him to die."

That was over a dozen years ago. He never became aggressive, although he'd fuss if I took his small bowl after he finished the ice cream I'd give him for a treat. He'd fall asleep in the dog bed I bought him, with the bowl close. I'd carefully remove the bowl while he slept, and usually find him curled in my lap in the morning. The recliner had now become my bed. Columbo feared the rest of the house, and would bark if he couldn't find me during the night.

Columbo's appetite fell off over the last few weeks. I took him to the vet, but she couldn't find anything wrong. She suggested more tests at a teaching university, but she said they would probably be traumatic for Columbo, so I decide to bring him home.

Three days ago, all Columbo would eat was a little of the ice cream I placed. He'd never finish, but I was glad he'd eat something. That changed yesterday. He wouldn't eat anything, or venture from his bed. I eventually picked him up and placed him in my lap as I sat in the recliner. He curled up, fell asleep and I soon followed. I woke a few hours later to find he passed. I sat with him for awhile; scratching the spot he liked me to scratch between his shoulder blades. I buried him under the white azalea; the flowers a brilliant white against the blue spring sky.

In the grand scheme of things, an old man, and a squirrel, don't mean very much...except to me. It's the small things that make the big things, and the attempts to rectify the wrongs with the rights should mean something. Whether my effort was right is to be seen. I like to think it was.

Carpal Tunnel Release 2

Again, I'm typing with one hand. I had the release surgery on my left hand this morning. So far, so good, but my entire hand is still without any feeling, due to the medication. I'll know the initial result tonight, when I hope I'm able to complete a night of sleep, without waking numerous times by pain and numbness. I'm looking forward to that; I've had enough.

What Do You Think They Have on Ryan?

I'm wondering what they have on Paul Ryan to make him refuse to allow the citizens of the U.S. to peruse the bill he wants all Congress to sign, without reading. Something illegal? Immoral? Maybe he was a sleeper, and they finally said the magic word that put him in action.

Whatever it is, he might as well call Jeffords and ask how it is on the dark side. That, and watch his back. I have the feeling his enemies now far outweigh his friends.

Are You Surprised?

News reports are full of articles about hacking of government files, incompetence of government employees, ridiculous wastes of taxpayer money, and the never ending diatribes of the underbelly of society, which we call politicians.

Are you surprised this is all we can expect of any type of government entity? I'm not. There's not a one that can justify half their expenditures, a quarter of their employees, and even those with more sense than a garden vegetable have no avenue for culling the herd of incompetent bureaucrats.

Is their a solution? History shows there is, and it's not pretty.

An Observation While Driving Home

First, I don't want anyone to become offended by the following post. I didn't intend to insert a disclaimer, but after consideration, while driving home, I decided it's best, since I don't like offending people, unless they deserve such treatment, or need a reality check on their limited ability to logically examine information, remove any preconceived prejudices, and find they find credibility with my ramblings. 

So, here we go:

I was driving by a local EMS service location (that's what used to be an ambulance service, but "ambulance" doesn't have the same thrill of using an acronym.) and noticed five of the employees standing in a circle outside. Since I didn't have much time to determine what they were doing, I could only examine the individuasl and analyze their appearance.

All of the men had the same body shape, which is best described as the same height,  pear shaped, with narrow shoulders, fairly thin arms, and a hefty steel belted truck radial strapped under their shirt. A less discerning observation would yield an opinion of family members standing around a pit; waiting for the links to be done enough to eat on a bun.

My first thought was: "What would happen, if they were to help me in a dire medical emergency, and one had a heart attack, or a slipped disc.... or something?" The thought provoked possible solutions, such as one being strong enough to just throw me over their shoulder, and ignore the one having the heart attack. As my thoughts continued, I wondered about the protocol for such an event.

My mind wondered through possible solutions. Just throwing me over their shoulder was a possibility, since I only weigh about 150 pounds, and even I could manage that. That, and maybe there's a special dolly for handling the other end of the gurney, when one of the emergency technicians has a medical problem that prevents them from taking care of a patient.

My mind wandered further, and I tried to determine it it's possible for an EMT to drive, take care of two patients, and talk on the radio. I couldn't arrive at any logical solution, so I settled on this situation would require a call for backup, and a wait. That, to me, could result in terrible problems. Two people with life threatening injuries shouldn't have to wait beyond the "golden hour"; especially if the help arriving could have a heart attack, or a slipped disc.

I was left with a conundrum, which was disconcerting. What would happen?

I have no solution, except to not allow myself to be in that situation, or to be extremely inebriated if it does. I feel better now, and will enjoy the birds, as they make a strong effort to empty the bird feeder.

Life Skills

I was reading an article (no, I'm too lazy to link the article), which stated 10 life skills the author felt was necessary by the age of thirty. I won't delve into all of them, because some were good, but the one about learning to make at least one signature mixed drink didn't seem to fit something I feel is important.

The article didn't mention anything about learning to shoot, clean, and cook small game, such as rabbits and squirrels. It's probably not necessary in big cities, but if it ever hit the fan, such things might be necessary with flocks of pigeons, squirrels and other critters that wander city streets.

Fishing wasn't included. That, or learning to tie knots or replace a button.

I guess we all have priorities different than others. I'm thinking mine lead more toward survival. Then again, a signature mixed drink sure sounds good at the moment.

Some Leon Russell for Sunday

I'm Not Familiar With Some Things

I had a friend receive an email message that piqued my interest. Apparently, one of their friends had plans that were delayed, so they relayed that fact and added: "I'm bored."

I don't think I've ever been bored, Distracted? Yes, that and irritated, too busy, tired, hungry, curious, wanting to stay busy, and needing a nap. I won't add "horny", because that might offend some readers.

My first reaction was: "How would I answer that email?" My first thought was: "How about I come to your house and light your sofa on fire?" I know that would remove their boredom. In fact, I bet they'd be scrambling like a squirrel with fleaI s on its ass.

I could continue: "Have you cleaned your toilet? What about that dust ball under the kitchen table? How's your spice supply? Is it up to date? Do you need to add something to it? What about your closet? When was the last time you went through your clothes and hauled what you don't wear to the Salvation Army?

So, I don't get bored. If nothing else, I can write, or think about a few impossible things. My mind never stops, and I never have reached the point I can't find anything to occupy my time, which is more precious than all the gold in the world.

While They Squirm...

...I just sit and watch.

For years, too much of the media protected the Democratic Party from the scrutiny they have for all other parties. It's probably mostly because the believers in a Progressive  government infiltrated journalism and even graduates with degrees in journalism are poorly trained to be critical thinkers. Even then, those that question the "authorities" on what should be reported are chastised, or become victims of character assassination.

I think the media is reaching the point where introspection is showing their credibility is almost gone. The media has sunk to the same level once only reserved for ambulance chasing attorneys and unethical used car sales people. Their only real purpose for public good is now considered a daily dose of propaganda and even their slanted polls reveal a dissatisfaction by the general public with what is reported.

Hillary Clinton is probably the best example of the failure of the media. She started her career by being embroiled in scandal while helping with the Watergate investigation. What actually happened is still disputed, but it was the start of many scandals. The media, if it was doing its job, would have revealed much more about Hillary and allowed the public to make its own opinion. Hiding key facts allowed her into important positions, and ultimately led to the deaths of U.S. citizens in Benghazi.

The newest information showing what are probably criminal "donations" to the Clinton Foundation may lead to their once "guaranteed" presidential candidate being prosecuted. It's already apparent Hillary is aware of this. Becoming President is her only hope of escaping any criminal activities, yet much of the media is ignoring her avoidance of any interaction with reporters, or the public, which is a bizarre way of running a presidential campaign.. An honest media would know this, hound her, and allow the public to scrutinize her actions over the last few years.

So, now the media has Hillary, and many other, "white elephants" to deal with. If they keep avoiding presenting key facts, they will continue to watch their ratings drop, lose revenue, and find public trust declining further. Exposing those they covered for years will lead to scrutiny they don't want either.  Accurate reporting that shows either incompetence, or culpability, also shows failure, and dishonesty.

I know many in the media are searching for dirt on opponents of their party choices. It's apparent with the report that Marco Rubio had some traffic tickets. Their desperation shows they're squirming and I'm personally enjoying their discomfort. May their discomfort reach the same level as multiple hemorrhoids, a hot summer day, no air conditioning, and an all day car trip across the desert.  

This I Find Irritating

A local construction project, involving Federal funds, a local city, and the Texas Department of Transportation finds the contractor in default. The payroll checks are bouncing, with knowledge by the company of the checks being written on a closed account; suppliers cut the contractor off months ago; the project is way behind schedule; and the stories coming out are of a contractor that not only refused to complete quality work, the principal administrators have a bizarre way of doing business.

I won't write the contractors name, but it's owned by a large Mexican company, and the news stories about the company indicate either terrible management, or criminal activities. Accounts have been seized by the feds in other states, and it's apparent those most affected by the lack of revenue are not the owners. Locals took the hit and so did the larger suppliers left with unpaid invoices.

I'm pissed. Not only for the crappy way of doing business, but for the attitudes of those even down to the superintendent level. It's obvious they don't care to run an ethical business, or follow the law. Hopefully, some jail time is in the future for some, but I don't have much faith in that happening. All they have to do is cross the border, and live on the money they slushed from public funds. They were paid for the work performed, neglected to pay suppliers, and the employees that took them for their word are now three weeks into being screwed out of their wages.

The bonding company will ultimately complete the project, if it's solvent, and not another group of crooks that figured out how to game the system. Time will tell.

Carpal Tunnel Release Update

It's been a little over two weeks since my surgery. The strength in my hand is determined by whether it hurts, or not, but the pain seems to lessen daily; and the hand is far from useless; like it was right after the surgery.

I don't wake at night due to pain in that arm, but I still wake from the pain in my left arm. Surgery for that had is scheduled in two weeks, which should give sufficient time to have almost full use of my right hand.

I still have numbness in the tips of the fingers most affected by the strangulation of the median nerve in my right hand. Whether the numbness leave is determined by the preceding damage. I won't know about that for up to a year. Still, it's a minor trade off for what was becoming a constant interruption of sleep.

As I've learned more about carpal tunnel release surgery, I've developed the attitude it's best to be aggressive with treatment as soon as the symptoms appear. There are many steps of treatment before surgery, but those steps might only prolong the inevitable surgery to stop  the damage, which can be due to genetics. Having thin wrists, and a job that increases the pressure, are things that can be beyond your control. You deal with the problem when it happens.

If I was asked on whether the surgery is a good idea, I'd answer in the affirmative. The only thing I'd caution on would be the surgeon. I asked around, looked up the surgeon, and made my final decision after a visit. As it turns out, my surgeon has been described as "the best" by locals, which is a good thing.

Bicyclist Breaks His Leg

The following photo is of an important political person that broke their leg while riding a bicycle. If you look closely, you can see his helmet right before it short circuited, and caused the wreck that broke his leg.

I'm thinking his handlers should reconsider the size of their control module, and lower the voltage. Such errors in design can lead to strange thinking and bizarre behavior.

I Suppose I Should Write Something

I won't write about the weather. With all the rain, there isn't much to write, except it wasn't a good time to be in a flood plain, or traveling one of the local roads that have a tendency to flood. Some wrecker drivers had a good week, that and I imagine some car salesmen are salivating like a pit bull about to steal a steak from the pit. I doubt mechanics were really that excited. Submerged cars have only one repair, and it only involves large machines, with hydraulic presses.

I won't write about politics; other than it's apparent all the efforts to crunch economic data in favor of the current administration failed. I know they worked real hard to subvert the data, but sometimes even deceptive number crunching doesn't change the facts.

I won't write about the muckity mucks with the national soccer sport. It has a name, which I can't can't remember, but the acronym sounds like something you'd name a mutt you adopted at the pound.

I won't write about Baltimore. Enough are writing about what has turned into a shining example of corrupt politics, ignorant administrators, and the media frenzy that destroyed a city.

I will write about the blue jay family in the yard. What started out as two is now five, although I've only seen four together during the last few days. I need a system for determining which is which. I thought of paint, but I can't make the blue jays stay still long enough to paint a number. Maybe I should just enjoy them as they are, and keep the peanuts coming.

For some reason, the following song popped into my head as I was making coffee this morning. I wonder why? I never cared much for the song.