Just got my 10 gallon pin from Carter Bloodcare tonight. Do you know how many t-shirts that is?
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Cycle Sunday
Sorry the pics aren't any clearer but this was from last Sunday's big country ride with some friends. It was a perfect day for a ride. We started right after church and headed south into some beautiful country toward Acton. We had lunch at some hole in the wall Ed knew of and then took off again. Check out Ed's website to prove he believes that life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all! Kevin had to prove he could ride in the mud but that hardly slowed us down and everybody got home in one piece. Thanks, y'all for a great way to spend a Sunday. Friday, October 30, 2009
We don't trust you
There is an old hymn entitled "There's Just Something About That Name". One of the all-time greats, it, of course, references Jesus Christ but I thought about that song as I pondered some recent events. Hopefully steering well clear of anything blasphemous I propose that there is also something, though not near divine, about the name of my state. Say the name "Texas" to almost anyone in the world and certain things come to mind. Certain stereotypes - good, bad, or even wrong - conjure quickly when one mentions the Lone Star state. Cowboy hats, boots, cattle, oil, America's team. They say "everything is bigger in Texas" and maybe some of that is true. Every stereotype has roots in truth.
One perception that consistently runs true is that Texas is a leader. What happens in Texas usually spills over later into the other states and sometimes this is a good thing and sometimes not. Texas consistently leads the nation in home-building, job availability, health care and finding alternative energy sources. Unfortunately we also lead the nation in alcohol-related car wrecks, repeat teen pregnancies, and the number of incarcerated residents. Perhaps some of this could be attributed to the sheer size of the state and we all agree we have areas that need attention but there is little dispute that whatever Texas does it does big. I used to have a football coach that encouraged us to do it 100% even if it's wrong. Texas seems to have that attitude.
A few days ago I heard a nationally syndicated radio talk-show host say that he was surprised that Texas had not taken more of a lead in the right-wing revolt against out liberal national politicians. Now, whether that is true or not one could debate but it made me think about why he would have such an impression. Why would Texas not lead out in expressing the conservative values that are so predominate here in the South? Why would we let other states be the "tip of the spear" in demanding real conservative change in our country? I believe it is at least in part due to our distrustful nature.
For many years I rejected becoming a member of the National Rifle Association. I am always careful about what organizations I support and have never before felt that joining such a group was necessary or even in my best interests. I guess I have always wanted to live in a perfect world where it was not necessary to fight for the right to own grenade-launching military weapons as a civilian. Do we really need to petition Congress for belt-fed automatics and high capacity, high caliber hunting rifles? Do we really need to battle so far to the right just to keep the other side from taking us too far to the left? I finally realized that the answer is a resounding "yes"! We may not need to take our gun rights to that extreme but if we do not push hard then our very basic gun rights are in danger.
I remember my first day of second grade. I walked onto the school ground and a fourth grade boy came up to me right away and said he was going to take my lunch. I started to explain to him that my mother had packed this lunch and that he should get his own lunch but before I could explain this to him he grabbed my lunch and pushed me down. The next day the same boy came to me and again told me he was going to take my lunch. I knew that we could work this out if we could just talk about it but before I could finish my sentence about rightful ownership the boy grabbed my lunch, pushed me down and kicked me in the ribs. The third day of school was different. Again the bully approached me as I walked onto campus but before he could even make his demand I punched him as hard as I could right in the mouth and broke one of his teeth. He never bothered me again.
I learned a huge lesson in second grade and it has stuck with me and benefitted me many times. Sometimes you have to strike harder than the other guy just to keep things even. You cannot trust people to be reasonable just because you are reasonable and sometimes people will not listen to what you say unless you back it up with action. We cannot expect everybody to think the same way we do and it would be nice if we could just explain our different views calmly and expect that the other person would come to respect our side even if they do not agree but you cannot trust them to do that. You cannot always trust that other people have your best interest at heart.
This is a lesson that Texans have learned over the years but it is a two-way street. We have to realize that while in the past we may not have trusted the far right-wing groups to understand our political and religious views and for it to be necessary to align ourselves with such groups but now the far left is going to take our country and even our state to places that we cannot allow. It is time to stand up for our basic rights. Without violence and not in anger but through vigorous and passionate, purposeful and even prayerful protests we need to join the others in showing President Obama and our representatives in Washington that Texans again lead the way in demanding reform and responsibility. It is time to get involved. It is time to put on our hats and boots and tell the kids to feed the cows because we have work to do. There is something about the name "Texas" and we can change our country. It can be done. Trust me.
One perception that consistently runs true is that Texas is a leader. What happens in Texas usually spills over later into the other states and sometimes this is a good thing and sometimes not. Texas consistently leads the nation in home-building, job availability, health care and finding alternative energy sources. Unfortunately we also lead the nation in alcohol-related car wrecks, repeat teen pregnancies, and the number of incarcerated residents. Perhaps some of this could be attributed to the sheer size of the state and we all agree we have areas that need attention but there is little dispute that whatever Texas does it does big. I used to have a football coach that encouraged us to do it 100% even if it's wrong. Texas seems to have that attitude.
A few days ago I heard a nationally syndicated radio talk-show host say that he was surprised that Texas had not taken more of a lead in the right-wing revolt against out liberal national politicians. Now, whether that is true or not one could debate but it made me think about why he would have such an impression. Why would Texas not lead out in expressing the conservative values that are so predominate here in the South? Why would we let other states be the "tip of the spear" in demanding real conservative change in our country? I believe it is at least in part due to our distrustful nature.
For many years I rejected becoming a member of the National Rifle Association. I am always careful about what organizations I support and have never before felt that joining such a group was necessary or even in my best interests. I guess I have always wanted to live in a perfect world where it was not necessary to fight for the right to own grenade-launching military weapons as a civilian. Do we really need to petition Congress for belt-fed automatics and high capacity, high caliber hunting rifles? Do we really need to battle so far to the right just to keep the other side from taking us too far to the left? I finally realized that the answer is a resounding "yes"! We may not need to take our gun rights to that extreme but if we do not push hard then our very basic gun rights are in danger.
I remember my first day of second grade. I walked onto the school ground and a fourth grade boy came up to me right away and said he was going to take my lunch. I started to explain to him that my mother had packed this lunch and that he should get his own lunch but before I could explain this to him he grabbed my lunch and pushed me down. The next day the same boy came to me and again told me he was going to take my lunch. I knew that we could work this out if we could just talk about it but before I could finish my sentence about rightful ownership the boy grabbed my lunch, pushed me down and kicked me in the ribs. The third day of school was different. Again the bully approached me as I walked onto campus but before he could even make his demand I punched him as hard as I could right in the mouth and broke one of his teeth. He never bothered me again.
I learned a huge lesson in second grade and it has stuck with me and benefitted me many times. Sometimes you have to strike harder than the other guy just to keep things even. You cannot trust people to be reasonable just because you are reasonable and sometimes people will not listen to what you say unless you back it up with action. We cannot expect everybody to think the same way we do and it would be nice if we could just explain our different views calmly and expect that the other person would come to respect our side even if they do not agree but you cannot trust them to do that. You cannot always trust that other people have your best interest at heart.
This is a lesson that Texans have learned over the years but it is a two-way street. We have to realize that while in the past we may not have trusted the far right-wing groups to understand our political and religious views and for it to be necessary to align ourselves with such groups but now the far left is going to take our country and even our state to places that we cannot allow. It is time to stand up for our basic rights. Without violence and not in anger but through vigorous and passionate, purposeful and even prayerful protests we need to join the others in showing President Obama and our representatives in Washington that Texans again lead the way in demanding reform and responsibility. It is time to get involved. It is time to put on our hats and boots and tell the kids to feed the cows because we have work to do. There is something about the name "Texas" and we can change our country. It can be done. Trust me.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
It's been a good year for the roses!Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Written in 1719
...they are not ashamed to sin, and yet are ashamed to repent; not ashamed of the action for which they ought justly to be esteemed fools, but are ashamed of the returning, which only can make them esteemed wise men.
--Daniel Defoe
"Robinson Crusoe"
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Friday, October 09, 2009
Storytime in parts
--Part XIII--
Officer Walter Blunt was looking forward to getting away for a few hours. The last several days had seen his caseload increase dramatically and everybody seemed to have an emergency, real or imagined. The small Pennsylvania town where he was a police officer rarely saw much action and he usually spent his shifts babysitting the townspeople in a small matrix of semi-serious confrontations typically stemming from one generation to the other or from one sex to the other. Officer Blunt had received formal training in everything from riot control to public relations but the past couple of years his sole focus had been much closer to the latter.
He had not voted for Eisenhower for president since Eisenhower was a Republican and Blunt came from a long line of Democrats and yet Blunt felt that the man was honest and well-intentioned and probably idealistically correct. It was all a moot point at the moment because Officer Blunt had a job to do and he would do that job no matter his personal feelings about the man. Blunt was to be a part of a joint task force comprised mostly of local police officers who were to provide crowd control while the president made a stop in a neighboring town as part of his effort to drum up support for an interstate highway system.
Blunt checked in and got instructions. He was to keep well-wishers and gaukers off of the roadway so the president's limo could pass by without anybody getting hurt. When he got to his station he saw several people had already lined up along the curb and some were already copping a squat right next to where President Eisenhower would be entering the hotel. The scene was chaotic with local police running into federal police and being screamed at all the while by Secret Service. Local police had the black cotton uniform, the federal agents would be in suits and ties and the Secret Service would be in nice suits and ties and wearing sunglasses.
News crews in awkward looking panel vans were setting up right in front of Blunt and he first asked them nicely to leave and then when he was ignored he and two others gave the crew a stiff warning about where that van would wind up if it was not moved promptly. Promptly it was moved and another immediately took it's place. Blunt and the others skipped the nice part and proceeded to threaten which worked pretty well after some moaning and question-asking. Another officer from another city smiled at Blunt and said,"Say what you want as long as you do what I say! Right, officer?" Walter smiled. It beats breaking up a family squabble about who drank who's beer. Blunt felt like he was doing important duty here and he was glad to help.
President Eisenhower's car pulled up in front of the hotel accompanied by various other vehicles doing various other duties. Red velour ropes cordoned off the pathway from the car to the hotel entrance. The car had Presidential Seal flags flying on both front fenders. The 1953 Cadillac Fleetwood Limo was black with a soft vinyl top and tons of chrome that enjoyed it's long journey from the collection at the front bumper and streaked down the side to the back door and accentuated the sexy curve of the cars hips and down to the sultry fins on the back.
At the same time as a Secret Service officer stepped forward to open the limo door for Eisenhower, Officer Blunt stepped forward to encourage a few stragglers to move away from the velour rope.
"Move away, please. Thank you... Move away from the rope, please...Step to the curb, please...Thank you..."
Seeing a young girl holding the rope, Officer Blunt put his hand gently but firmly on her shoulder to demand that she move back.
"Move away from the ro..."
The president stepped out of the car and took a few steps smiling broadly and waving to the crowd. He was almost actually glad to be there and his smile was less artificial than at other times. He was willing to shake a few hands and make a show of enjoying his small-town stops and this seemed like a good time and place with plenty of reporters, cameras and security. Seeing the local police officer with his hand on the young girl's shoulder would be a good place to start so President Dwight David Eisenhower moved rapidly to the pair. In spite of what seemed like an odd exchange of glances between the two, Ike held out his hand to the pretty little girl and gave his standard greeting.
"Dwight Eisenhower", he said with a nod.
Officer Walter Blunt was looking forward to getting away for a few hours. The last several days had seen his caseload increase dramatically and everybody seemed to have an emergency, real or imagined. The small Pennsylvania town where he was a police officer rarely saw much action and he usually spent his shifts babysitting the townspeople in a small matrix of semi-serious confrontations typically stemming from one generation to the other or from one sex to the other. Officer Blunt had received formal training in everything from riot control to public relations but the past couple of years his sole focus had been much closer to the latter.
He had not voted for Eisenhower for president since Eisenhower was a Republican and Blunt came from a long line of Democrats and yet Blunt felt that the man was honest and well-intentioned and probably idealistically correct. It was all a moot point at the moment because Officer Blunt had a job to do and he would do that job no matter his personal feelings about the man. Blunt was to be a part of a joint task force comprised mostly of local police officers who were to provide crowd control while the president made a stop in a neighboring town as part of his effort to drum up support for an interstate highway system.
Blunt checked in and got instructions. He was to keep well-wishers and gaukers off of the roadway so the president's limo could pass by without anybody getting hurt. When he got to his station he saw several people had already lined up along the curb and some were already copping a squat right next to where President Eisenhower would be entering the hotel. The scene was chaotic with local police running into federal police and being screamed at all the while by Secret Service. Local police had the black cotton uniform, the federal agents would be in suits and ties and the Secret Service would be in nice suits and ties and wearing sunglasses.
News crews in awkward looking panel vans were setting up right in front of Blunt and he first asked them nicely to leave and then when he was ignored he and two others gave the crew a stiff warning about where that van would wind up if it was not moved promptly. Promptly it was moved and another immediately took it's place. Blunt and the others skipped the nice part and proceeded to threaten which worked pretty well after some moaning and question-asking. Another officer from another city smiled at Blunt and said,"Say what you want as long as you do what I say! Right, officer?" Walter smiled. It beats breaking up a family squabble about who drank who's beer. Blunt felt like he was doing important duty here and he was glad to help.
President Eisenhower's car pulled up in front of the hotel accompanied by various other vehicles doing various other duties. Red velour ropes cordoned off the pathway from the car to the hotel entrance. The car had Presidential Seal flags flying on both front fenders. The 1953 Cadillac Fleetwood Limo was black with a soft vinyl top and tons of chrome that enjoyed it's long journey from the collection at the front bumper and streaked down the side to the back door and accentuated the sexy curve of the cars hips and down to the sultry fins on the back.
At the same time as a Secret Service officer stepped forward to open the limo door for Eisenhower, Officer Blunt stepped forward to encourage a few stragglers to move away from the velour rope.
"Move away, please. Thank you... Move away from the rope, please...Step to the curb, please...Thank you..."
Seeing a young girl holding the rope, Officer Blunt put his hand gently but firmly on her shoulder to demand that she move back.
"Move away from the ro..."
The president stepped out of the car and took a few steps smiling broadly and waving to the crowd. He was almost actually glad to be there and his smile was less artificial than at other times. He was willing to shake a few hands and make a show of enjoying his small-town stops and this seemed like a good time and place with plenty of reporters, cameras and security. Seeing the local police officer with his hand on the young girl's shoulder would be a good place to start so President Dwight David Eisenhower moved rapidly to the pair. In spite of what seemed like an odd exchange of glances between the two, Ike held out his hand to the pretty little girl and gave his standard greeting.
"Dwight Eisenhower", he said with a nod.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
I'm rockin'!
So, I've started going back to the gym now. (I know. It's so obvious.) Tonight I was really getting in to it. Pumping some iron. Shocking my abs. Rocking out to some Aerosmith on my mp3 player. Blasting through the pain as AC/DC blasted through the ear buds. Now I'm going. Head bobbing. Biceps aching. Back in the groove and Back in Black. Nothing but me and the iron and ...Moon River? Who put Andy Williams on my playlist?! Something about "my huckleberry friend" zapped all the fire outta me. Not exactly "eye of the tiger" after that. So, is there anything else you think I should avoid listening to in the gym?
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Makes him more of a hero...
I get choked up looking at this pic. Here's the story. It's hard to say "Thank you" enough to them. I hate war but I sure am grateful for warriors.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Multi-faceted question
But does there have to be so much rain?
For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
I knew it!
I knew this was going to be problem! I just knew it. This Facebook thing is a pain in my neck. Number one, I don't really understand how it all works and really don't care to waste brain cells finding out. The problems are that all these people I haven't seen in years are coming out of the woodwork asking to be my Facebook friend. Now, this is ok for some of them but all you freaks I went to high school with, I probably lost touch with you on purpose. It is remotely interesting to see what you look like after all these years but I don't want to rekindle 147 lost friendships. Who has the time or emotional slack to do all that?
Also, all you dorks who only play games on Facebook, quit hogging up my page with pictures of farm animals and fish and then giving me "gifts" of fences or fish hooks. I thought you really wanted to give me a gift, not invite me to join your aquarium watching or whatever that is.
So, again, I don't understand how this works. Can I delete some of these people who I don't want and can I ignore new requests without people thinking bad about me? Is that mean? Because I don't want to be friends with the grandmother of some guy I knew vaguely in 1984, am I a bad guy? Stupid Facebook. I knew this would happen.
Also, all you dorks who only play games on Facebook, quit hogging up my page with pictures of farm animals and fish and then giving me "gifts" of fences or fish hooks. I thought you really wanted to give me a gift, not invite me to join your aquarium watching or whatever that is.
So, again, I don't understand how this works. Can I delete some of these people who I don't want and can I ignore new requests without people thinking bad about me? Is that mean? Because I don't want to be friends with the grandmother of some guy I knew vaguely in 1984, am I a bad guy? Stupid Facebook. I knew this would happen.
Friday, September 25, 2009
What's the NRA's strategy?
I mentioned awhile back that I joined the NRA and they immediately started asking for a renewal. I don't mean "immediately" as in "waited an appropriate length of time", or "soon thereafter". I mean, the incessant begging nearly beat me home from the gun show where I signed up! Then it literally (you might think I'm exaggerating but I'm not) kept on every two weeks for exactly one year. At the end of the year, I went online and renewed. That was 2 months ago and I've not heard a peep from them. No "Welcome back, Todd" or "Thanks again, Todd" or "Kiss my AR-15, Todd". Nothing... I'm starting to miss them... Maybe I should send them more money.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
It wasn't me this time!
Wrong Lake Worth, different dog, different gun and I'm not quite that old. And when a cop says "Drop the gun", you can set it down slowly...and no warning shots! And who needs clothes?
h/t
Lagniappe
h/t
Lagniappe
Bill's a fan.
Mr. President, how many times a day do you read "Blog I thought you said Dog"?
"Just once a day, but I follow him on Facebook".
Habit or convenience?
I'm thinking about taking up smoking. Some people at work smoke and it seems like every few minutes they're standing outside taking a break while I'm inside (pretty much) working. How do they get away with that? I heard somewhere that you lose ten minutes of life for every cigarette you smoke but these people are getting out of work for ten minutes every time so I figure they are breaking even. So, I'm gonna start. Maybe cigars. Or even a pipe! A pipe would be cool! I know! I'll start cigarettes, cigars and a pipe. And dipping snuff. I can stand outside in the heat, cold and wind a long time if I do that and get time off for being sick and cancerous and stuff. Yea, that's it! Now, I wonder what I can do if I smoke crack...
Stupid Facebook
I broke down and got a Facebook page like every other bozo in the world. I did it because our Sunday School Class (Bible Fellowship) has a page and I wanted to comment on it. So, go over there and sample my biting wit in gems like these:
I didn't even know I had a Flickr account much less that these 3 photos would be the only thing there: My nephew True, some dog I don't know, and Sadie telling me not to take that picture.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Storytime in parts
--Part XIII--
Officer Walter Blunt was looking forward to getting away for a few hours. The last several days had seen his caseload increase dramatically and everybody seemed to have an emergency, real or imagined. The small Pennsylvania town where he was a police officer rarely saw much action and he usually spent his shifts babysitting the townspeople in a small matrix of semi-serious confrontations typically stemming from one generation to the other or from one sex to the other. Officer Blunt had received formal training in everything from riot control to public relations but the past couple of years his sole focus had been much closer to the latter.
He had not voted for Eisenhower for president since Eisenhower was a Republican and Blunt came from a long line of Democrats and yet Blunt felt that the man was honest and well-intentioned and probably idealistically correct. It was all a moot point at the moment because Officer Blunt had a job to do and he would do that job no matter his personal feelings about the man. Blunt was to be a part of a joint task force comprised mostly of local police officers who were to provide crowd control while the president made a stop in a neighboring town as part of his effort to drum up support for an interstate highway system.
Blunt checked in and got instructions. He was to keep well-wishers and gaukers off of the roadway so the president's limo could pass by without anybody getting hurt. When he got to his station he saw several people had already lined up along the curb and some were already copping a squat right next to where President Eisenhower would be entering the hotel. The scene was chaotic with local police running into federal police and being screamed at all the while by Secret Servive. Local police had the black cotton uniform, the federal agents would be in suits and ties and the secret service would be in nice suits and ties and wearing sunglasses.
News crews in awkward looking panel vans were setting up right in front of Blunt and he first asked them nicely to leave and then when he was ignored he and two others gave the crew a stiff warning about where that van would wind up if it was not moved promptly. Promptly it was moved and another immediately took it's place. Blunt and the others skipped the nice part and proceeded to threaten which worked pretty well after some moaning and question-asking. Another officer from another city smiled at Blunt and said,"Say what you want as long as you do what I say! Right, officer?" Walter smiled. It beats breaking up a family squabble about who drank who's beer. Blunt felt like he was doing important duty here and he was glad to help.
President Eisenhower's car pulled up in front of the hotel accompanied by various other vehicles doing various other duties. Red velour ropes cordoned off the pathway from the car to the hotel entrance. The car had Presidential Seal flags flying on both front fenders. The 1953 Cadillac Fleetwood Limo was black with a soft vinyl top and tons of chrome that enjoyed it's long journey from the collection at the front bumper and streaked down the side to the back door and accentuated the sexy curve of the cars hips and down to the sultry fins on the back.
At the same time as a Secret Service officer stepped forward to open the limo door for Eisenhower, Officer Blunt stepped forward to encourage a few stragglers to move away from the velour rope.
"Move away, please. Thank you... Move away from the rope, please...Step to the curb, please...Thank you..."
Seeing a young girl holding the rope, Officer Blunt put his hand gently but firmly on her shoulder to demand that she move back.
"Move away from the ro..."
The president stepped out of the car and took a few steps smiling broadly and waving to the crowd. He was almost actually glad to be there and his smile was less artificial than at other times. He was willing to shake a few hands and make a show of enjoying his small-town stops and this seemed like a good time and place with plenty of reporters, cameras and security. Seeing the local police officer with his hand on the young girl's shoulder would be a good place to start so President Dwight David Eisenhower moved rapidly to the pair. In spite of what seemed like an odd exchange of glances between the two, Ike held out his hand to the pretty little girl and gave his standard greeting.
"Dwight Eisenhower", he said with a nod.
Officer Walter Blunt was looking forward to getting away for a few hours. The last several days had seen his caseload increase dramatically and everybody seemed to have an emergency, real or imagined. The small Pennsylvania town where he was a police officer rarely saw much action and he usually spent his shifts babysitting the townspeople in a small matrix of semi-serious confrontations typically stemming from one generation to the other or from one sex to the other. Officer Blunt had received formal training in everything from riot control to public relations but the past couple of years his sole focus had been much closer to the latter.
He had not voted for Eisenhower for president since Eisenhower was a Republican and Blunt came from a long line of Democrats and yet Blunt felt that the man was honest and well-intentioned and probably idealistically correct. It was all a moot point at the moment because Officer Blunt had a job to do and he would do that job no matter his personal feelings about the man. Blunt was to be a part of a joint task force comprised mostly of local police officers who were to provide crowd control while the president made a stop in a neighboring town as part of his effort to drum up support for an interstate highway system.
Blunt checked in and got instructions. He was to keep well-wishers and gaukers off of the roadway so the president's limo could pass by without anybody getting hurt. When he got to his station he saw several people had already lined up along the curb and some were already copping a squat right next to where President Eisenhower would be entering the hotel. The scene was chaotic with local police running into federal police and being screamed at all the while by Secret Servive. Local police had the black cotton uniform, the federal agents would be in suits and ties and the secret service would be in nice suits and ties and wearing sunglasses.
News crews in awkward looking panel vans were setting up right in front of Blunt and he first asked them nicely to leave and then when he was ignored he and two others gave the crew a stiff warning about where that van would wind up if it was not moved promptly. Promptly it was moved and another immediately took it's place. Blunt and the others skipped the nice part and proceeded to threaten which worked pretty well after some moaning and question-asking. Another officer from another city smiled at Blunt and said,"Say what you want as long as you do what I say! Right, officer?" Walter smiled. It beats breaking up a family squabble about who drank who's beer. Blunt felt like he was doing important duty here and he was glad to help.
President Eisenhower's car pulled up in front of the hotel accompanied by various other vehicles doing various other duties. Red velour ropes cordoned off the pathway from the car to the hotel entrance. The car had Presidential Seal flags flying on both front fenders. The 1953 Cadillac Fleetwood Limo was black with a soft vinyl top and tons of chrome that enjoyed it's long journey from the collection at the front bumper and streaked down the side to the back door and accentuated the sexy curve of the cars hips and down to the sultry fins on the back.
At the same time as a Secret Service officer stepped forward to open the limo door for Eisenhower, Officer Blunt stepped forward to encourage a few stragglers to move away from the velour rope.
"Move away, please. Thank you... Move away from the rope, please...Step to the curb, please...Thank you..."
Seeing a young girl holding the rope, Officer Blunt put his hand gently but firmly on her shoulder to demand that she move back.
"Move away from the ro..."
The president stepped out of the car and took a few steps smiling broadly and waving to the crowd. He was almost actually glad to be there and his smile was less artificial than at other times. He was willing to shake a few hands and make a show of enjoying his small-town stops and this seemed like a good time and place with plenty of reporters, cameras and security. Seeing the local police officer with his hand on the young girl's shoulder would be a good place to start so President Dwight David Eisenhower moved rapidly to the pair. In spite of what seemed like an odd exchange of glances between the two, Ike held out his hand to the pretty little girl and gave his standard greeting.
"Dwight Eisenhower", he said with a nod.
Waste of time
So, I just spent about a minute and a half watching the Cowboy game tonight. That's a minute and a half longer than I intended to but it was just enough time to see the Boys throw an interception for a touchdown, Jerry Jones was picking his nose and then they fumbled the return kick. Good stuff.
Storytime in parts
--Part XIII--Officer Walter Blunt was looking forward to getting away for a few hours. The last several days had seen his caseload increase dramatically and everybody seemed to have an emergency, real or imagined. The small Pennsylvania town where he was a police officer rarely saw much action and he usually spent his shifts babysitting the townspeople in a small matrix of semi-serious confrontations typically stemming from one generation to the other or from one sex to the other. Officer Blunt had received formal training in everything from riot control to public relations but the past couple of years his sole focus had been much closer to the latter.
He had not voted for Eisenhower for president since Eisenhower was a Republican and Blunt came from a long line of Democrats and yet Blunt felt that the man was honest and well-intentioned and probably idealistically correct. It was all a moot point at the moment because Officer Blunt had a job to do and he would do that job no matter his personal feelings about the man. Blunt was to be a part of a joint task force comprised mostly of local police officers who were to provide crowd control while the president made a stop in a neighboring town as part of his effort to drum up support for an interstate highway system.
Blunt checked in and got instructions. He was to keep well-wishers and gaukers off of the roadway so the president's limo could pass by without anybody getting hurt. When he got to his station he saw several people had already lined up along the curb and some were already copping a squat right next to where President Eisenhower would be entering the hotel. The scene was chaotic with local police running into federal police and being screamed at all the while by Secret Servive. Local police had the black cotton uniform, the federal agents would be in suits and ties and the secret service would be in nice suits and ties and wearing sunglasses.
News crews in awkward looking panel vans were setting up right in front of Blunt and he first asked them nicely to leave and then when he was ignored he and two others gave the crew a stiff warning about where that van would wind up if it was not moved promptly. Promptly it was moved and another immediately took it's place. Blunt and the others skipped the nice part and proceeded to threaten which worked pretty well after some moaning and question-asking. Another officer from another city smiled at Blunt and said,"Say what you want as long as you do what I say! Right, officer?" Walter smiled. It beats breaking up a family squabble about who drank who's beer. Blunt felt like he was doing important duty here and he was glad to help.
President Eisenhower's car pulled up in front of the hotel accompanied by various other vehicles doing various other duties. Red velour ropes cordoned off the pathway from the car to the hotel entrance. The car had Presidential Seal flags flying on both front fenders. The 1953 Cadillac Fleetwood Limo was black with a soft vinyl top and tons of chrome that enjoyed it's long journey from the collection at the front bumper and streaked down the side to the back door and accentuated the sexy curve of the cars hips and down to the sultry fins on the back.
At the same time as a Secret Service officer stepped forward to open the limo door for Eisenhower, Officer Blunt stepped forward to encourage a few stragglers to move away from the velour rope.
"Move away, please. Thank you... Move away from the rope, please...Step to the curb, please...Thank you..."
Seeing a young girl holding the rope, Officer Blunt put his hand gently but firmly on her shoulder to demand that she move back.
"Move away from the ro..."
The president stepped out of the car and took a few steps smiling broadly and waving to the crowd. He was almost actually glad to be there and his smile was less artificial than at other times. He was willing to shake a few hands and make a show of enjoying his small-town stops and this seemed like a good time and place with plenty of reporters, cameras and security.
Seeing the local police officer with his hand on the young girl's shoulder would be a good place to start so President Dwight David Eisenhower moved rapidly to the pair. In spite of what seemed like an odd exchange of glances between the two, Ike held out his hand to the pretty little girl and gave his standard greeting.
"Dwight Eisenhower", he said with a nod.
He had not voted for Eisenhower for president since Eisenhower was a Republican and Blunt came from a long line of Democrats and yet Blunt felt that the man was honest and well-intentioned and probably idealistically correct. It was all a moot point at the moment because Officer Blunt had a job to do and he would do that job no matter his personal feelings about the man. Blunt was to be a part of a joint task force comprised mostly of local police officers who were to provide crowd control while the president made a stop in a neighboring town as part of his effort to drum up support for an interstate highway system.
Blunt checked in and got instructions. He was to keep well-wishers and gaukers off of the roadway so the president's limo could pass by without anybody getting hurt. When he got to his station he saw several people had already lined up along the curb and some were already copping a squat right next to where President Eisenhower would be entering the hotel. The scene was chaotic with local police running into federal police and being screamed at all the while by Secret Servive. Local police had the black cotton uniform, the federal agents would be in suits and ties and the secret service would be in nice suits and ties and wearing sunglasses.
News crews in awkward looking panel vans were setting up right in front of Blunt and he first asked them nicely to leave and then when he was ignored he and two others gave the crew a stiff warning about where that van would wind up if it was not moved promptly. Promptly it was moved and another immediately took it's place. Blunt and the others skipped the nice part and proceeded to threaten which worked pretty well after some moaning and question-asking. Another officer from another city smiled at Blunt and said,"Say what you want as long as you do what I say! Right, officer?" Walter smiled. It beats breaking up a family squabble about who drank who's beer. Blunt felt like he was doing important duty here and he was glad to help.
President Eisenhower's car pulled up in front of the hotel accompanied by various other vehicles doing various other duties. Red velour ropes cordoned off the pathway from the car to the hotel entrance. The car had Presidential Seal flags flying on both front fenders. The 1953 Cadillac Fleetwood Limo was black with a soft vinyl top and tons of chrome that enjoyed it's long journey from the collection at the front bumper and streaked down the side to the back door and accentuated the sexy curve of the cars hips and down to the sultry fins on the back.
At the same time as a Secret Service officer stepped forward to open the limo door for Eisenhower, Officer Blunt stepped forward to encourage a few stragglers to move away from the velour rope.
"Move away, please. Thank you... Move away from the rope, please...Step to the curb, please...Thank you..."
Seeing a young girl holding the rope, Officer Blunt put his hand gently but firmly on her shoulder to demand that she move back.
"Move away from the ro..."
The president stepped out of the car and took a few steps smiling broadly and waving to the crowd. He was almost actually glad to be there and his smile was less artificial than at other times. He was willing to shake a few hands and make a show of enjoying his small-town stops and this seemed like a good time and place with plenty of reporters, cameras and security.
Seeing the local police officer with his hand on the young girl's shoulder would be a good place to start so President Dwight David Eisenhower moved rapidly to the pair. In spite of what seemed like an odd exchange of glances between the two, Ike held out his hand to the pretty little girl and gave his standard greeting.
"Dwight Eisenhower", he said with a nod.
Shuttle
The Space Shuttle was temporarily diverted to NAS JRB and flew what seemed like 5 feet over my house today. I took this with my camera phone. You can't see the shuttle, though. So, ya gotta believe me.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Those crazy Baptists...
Because figuring out what to wear to church shouldn't have to be so difficult...
I hope the preacher stands behind a podium.
Where do you pin the "visitor" ribbon?
Do you have to wear a tie to their traditional service?
In a real Baptist church you have to have pockets. Where else can you keep your wallet?
I hope the preacher stands behind a podium.
Where do you pin the "visitor" ribbon?
Do you have to wear a tie to their traditional service?
In a real Baptist church you have to have pockets. Where else can you keep your wallet?
Jesus was pro-NRA
Our adult Sunday School class (or Adult Bible Fellowship) gets to color sometimes and I don't know if this is blasphemous or not but it got an A-plus for creativity and is hanging on our fridge! Stephen's mother is so proud.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
No hope for Roadhouse II, I guess.
This conversation was while watching the news yesterday:Todd: Oh look. Patrick Swayze died.
Princess: Yea, I knew he'd been sick.
Todd: There's a stunning blow to society. What's he done good since Roadhouse?
Princess: --pause-- Well, I bet his family misses him.
Todd: They're just missing Roadhouse II.
Princess: --pause-- You're a jerk.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
My weekend...
Me and the boys went out again this weekend. Had a pretty good time. My wife, though, had another successful watermelon hunt. Note the proper gun etiquette. I'm so proud of her!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
I already dread work on Monday
"The trouble with my life is that I do not think I am cut out to sit behind a desk."--Howard Hughes
Storytime in parts
--Part XII--
In all the commotion Marilyn had not even realized she had stood up. Don walked over to her standing by the booth and said quietly, "Let's go." He started walking toward the kitchen. He looked back at her as if to ask if she was coming. She glanced once at the people by the door of the restaurant who were taking turns looking at her and Don and Jimbob. Nobody seemed to know what to do but there was alot of talking and alot of staring. She grabbed the plate of pancakes from her placemat and walked toward the kitchen.
Don was walking out the back door and nodded to the man who was doing the cooking. The cook nodded back to Don and went back to his grill without a word, oblivious to what was going on at the front of his establishment. Don kept the door open just long enough for Marilyn to scoot out and then he let it go and started walking through the back alley.
"Aren't you going to wait?", Marilyn asked incredulously.
"For what?"
"Well...the police, I guess."
"Do you want to wait for the cops?", Don asked and stopped walking.
Marilyn stopped too but then started walking even faster. Don smiled slightly as she caught up to him still carrying the plate of pancakes but now sporting a determined expression. They found Teddy around the corner and fed him the pancakes as they walked down the sidewalk. They walked several blocks with Marilyn's mind whirling about everything that was happening. It seemed like years since she had been home. She looked over at Teddy next to her. His coat looked dingy and ruffled. She looked down at her clothes that were filthy and then at the man next to her. She hardly knew this guy!
As if sensing her distress, Don slowed his pace.
"Let's sit down here for a minute and rest", he said and eased his lanky frame down to the curb. "I'm tired".
Marilyn followed but Teddy remained standing.
"Well, what now, Marilyn?", Don inquired.
"Whad'ya mean?", she stammered.
"Where are you going to go now?"
Marilyn thought for a second and tried to act like she had a plan. "Well, you see..."
In the pause, Don started talking. "I guess your momma must have really hated that Teddy, huh?"
Shocked out of her act, Marilyn turned to look at Don and said, "What? No, she loves Teddy! She thinks Teddy is great! And Teddy loves her, too!", she said defensively. "Why do you say that?"
"Oh, it must be your father, then. I guess he must hate dogs. That's why you left".
Marilyn shifted around so she could see his face. "No, no, no. He loves Teddy, too! In fact, he said Teddy is as good of a dog as he's seen and the best watchdog ever. Teddy knows when somebody bad is around. He can tell if somebody is bad or not. He growls at 'em. He would probably tear somebody up if they were mean to anybody in our family!"
As Don scratched Teddy behind the ear, Don said, "Hmm...well if they love Teddy so much, don't you think they are probably missing him about now? They probably wish he would come back home so he could protect them". He waited for a moment for that to set in and then said, "Dont'ya think?"
Marilyn looked at Teddy, trying not to let tears form in her eyes. He looked back at her and licked his lips and smiled like only Teddy could do.
"What has Teddy had to eat since you have been gone? Besides a few pancakes?", Don asked.
Don could barely hear the response. It was muffled and quiet. "Part of a candy bar..."
The three of them sat in silence for several minutes on the curb. A siren wailed in the distance and Teddy squirmed anxiously, trying to lick the tear rolling down Marilyn's cheek.
Finally a word.
"Maybe...maybe I should get Teddy home now." she said. "Momma and Daddy will be missing him. They need Teddy around the house, you know."
"I know."
In all the commotion Marilyn had not even realized she had stood up. Don walked over to her standing by the booth and said quietly, "Let's go." He started walking toward the kitchen. He looked back at her as if to ask if she was coming. She glanced once at the people by the door of the restaurant who were taking turns looking at her and Don and Jimbob. Nobody seemed to know what to do but there was alot of talking and alot of staring. She grabbed the plate of pancakes from her placemat and walked toward the kitchen.
Don was walking out the back door and nodded to the man who was doing the cooking. The cook nodded back to Don and went back to his grill without a word, oblivious to what was going on at the front of his establishment. Don kept the door open just long enough for Marilyn to scoot out and then he let it go and started walking through the back alley.
"Aren't you going to wait?", Marilyn asked incredulously.
"For what?"
"Well...the police, I guess."
"Do you want to wait for the cops?", Don asked and stopped walking.
Marilyn stopped too but then started walking even faster. Don smiled slightly as she caught up to him still carrying the plate of pancakes but now sporting a determined expression. They found Teddy around the corner and fed him the pancakes as they walked down the sidewalk. They walked several blocks with Marilyn's mind whirling about everything that was happening. It seemed like years since she had been home. She looked over at Teddy next to her. His coat looked dingy and ruffled. She looked down at her clothes that were filthy and then at the man next to her. She hardly knew this guy!
As if sensing her distress, Don slowed his pace.
"Let's sit down here for a minute and rest", he said and eased his lanky frame down to the curb. "I'm tired".
Marilyn followed but Teddy remained standing.
"Well, what now, Marilyn?", Don inquired.
"Whad'ya mean?", she stammered.
"Where are you going to go now?"
Marilyn thought for a second and tried to act like she had a plan. "Well, you see..."
In the pause, Don started talking. "I guess your momma must have really hated that Teddy, huh?"
Shocked out of her act, Marilyn turned to look at Don and said, "What? No, she loves Teddy! She thinks Teddy is great! And Teddy loves her, too!", she said defensively. "Why do you say that?"
"Oh, it must be your father, then. I guess he must hate dogs. That's why you left".
Marilyn shifted around so she could see his face. "No, no, no. He loves Teddy, too! In fact, he said Teddy is as good of a dog as he's seen and the best watchdog ever. Teddy knows when somebody bad is around. He can tell if somebody is bad or not. He growls at 'em. He would probably tear somebody up if they were mean to anybody in our family!"
As Don scratched Teddy behind the ear, Don said, "Hmm...well if they love Teddy so much, don't you think they are probably missing him about now? They probably wish he would come back home so he could protect them". He waited for a moment for that to set in and then said, "Dont'ya think?"
Marilyn looked at Teddy, trying not to let tears form in her eyes. He looked back at her and licked his lips and smiled like only Teddy could do.
"What has Teddy had to eat since you have been gone? Besides a few pancakes?", Don asked.
Don could barely hear the response. It was muffled and quiet. "Part of a candy bar..."
The three of them sat in silence for several minutes on the curb. A siren wailed in the distance and Teddy squirmed anxiously, trying to lick the tear rolling down Marilyn's cheek.
Finally a word.
"Maybe...maybe I should get Teddy home now." she said. "Momma and Daddy will be missing him. They need Teddy around the house, you know."
"I know."
Friday, September 11, 2009
My flag
I have to admit that I had not really thought about flying a flag until about 9/12/01. The day before really brought home to me and millions of other Americans the importance of my country and so, like so many others, I bought a flag and perched it out front of my house. I don't know how many flags I've had to replace now but I make sure that mine stays in good shape and keep a light on it at night. It has flown every day since then. It won't bring back three thousand-plus people but I haven't forgotten them. Tuesday, September 08, 2009
A good day
No, I didn't use a shotgun. Let me explain. The reason the shots are all over the paper is because I was shooting right handed, left handed, one handed, two handed...I did everything except use a mirror over my shoulder. I practiced from all different distances and combinations of hands. I even practiced loading the magazine left handed and with my eyes closed. Loading it left handed was considerably more difficult than I expected. No, I didn't shoot with my eyes closed. I figured the other people on the range might not appreciate that. I concentrated on the target even when the guy two lanes over brought out the hand cannon and with the old man on the other side sweeping up my brass from around my feet. I'll admit it was hard to focus on my target when somebody started using their laser on their target and commenced rapid-firing like a maniac. Overall, it was a good day, with a trip to Cabela's to replenish my stock and a big ol' steak for dinner. Now, if I could just figure out how to do all that and ride my motorcyle at the same time...
Sunday, September 06, 2009
I missed Bacon Day!
How come somebody didn't tell me that Bacon Day was yesterday? Did I miss the parade? Is there a Bacon Flag to fly? That explains why we are off work tomorrow! Well, let's at least all honor our country by having Bacon Explosions on the grill tomorrow!
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Oh, great...
Now Baptists are trying to kill Obama with assault rifles. Well, that's pretty much how the media portrays it here. Thanks, you brain-dead hillbillies for making the rest of us look bad!
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Black Label Shadow
I felt like an alcoholic who had been on the wagon for awhile and then fell off and realized it was better than he remembered. Muscle memory went a long way. My leg went over the seat and my foot rested instinctively on the foot peg. I didn't fumble with the key. Kickstand up, ignition on, blip the throttle, noise, vibration...mmm. Feels good. Memories start up with the engine.
Backing out of the driveway was tricky. I guess my leg is still technically broken. Maybe it's healed. Who knows? It doesn't hurt. I put my brace on just for good measure. I'm still a little weak at my knee. I eased out of the driveway and first-geared it to the corner. The alcoholic takes a small sip.
A couple more gears and I'm at the highway. I had planned on just going around the block but I rationalize that the bike needs a little more to keep the seals from drying out and the tires need a few revolutions to keep away dry rot. I'll just go to the first exit and turn around. It's not going to hurt anything. It's like taking a drink and holding it in your mouth for a second to enjoy the flavor.
The on-ramp has never made me smile before but this feels really good. I realized quickly how much difference the windshield made now that I have it off. The wind and noise increase but just add to the feeling of freedom; the feeling of different than normal and yet pleasing. My heartbeat increased as well. Second gear, third... fourth, yes, fifth. Oh, yeah, that's the stuff! I missed this! On the wagon for nearly two months but now I take a long, cool swig of speed until it runs breezy down my chin onto my shirt. The complicated conflict of warmth and coolness mix inside me and come out as a grin I can't stop.
Fifteen miles later, I pull back in the driveway tipsy from the experience but feeling so blessed in my natural high. Several times I have wondered if that beautiful bike and I would ever go down the highway together again and I thank the Lord again for his grace and mercy. I stagger (ok, limp) into the house and grab the camera to share with you my still-intoxicating, always faithful black hooch. Drink it in with me.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Feelings. Nothing more than feelings.
"Funny", like "beauty", is in the eye of the beholder. What I consider funny, some people absolutely do not. Sometimes what everybody else thinks is funny, I do not. It's just how we are made, I guess. Sometimes I agree with the masses. I happen to think The Simpsons is still the funniest show on TV and evidently I'm not the only one since it is the longest running comedy on TV--20-something years now. Sometimes I don't agree with the masses. When Seinfeld went off the air I thought, "Good riddance". I think stupid funny is funny but not too stupid like some British comedies. Anyway, my taste in what is funny is not always like what everybody else thinks is funny.
I say this because not everybody gets my humor and I realize that sometimes I go overboard. Maybe it's how I grew up. As a kid, I and my friends would rag on each other unmercifully. Not much was held back and it made for some tense times along with the funny when somebody would say something that probably crossed the line and somebody would get their feelings hurt. What made it funny, though, was that thing that crossed the line was usually the thing that, after everybody made up, was the thing we ragged on that person the most about and it was even funnier then. Dysfunctional? Probably, but still funny and that was all that mattered.
Like alot of people, I kid the people I like. You know I consider you my friend when I insult you and call you names or say something mean. My wife understands that when I call her a smelly pirate hooker that I say it with the love that is reserved only for her. She's the only smelly pirate hooker in my life. That's a term of endearment only for her. She also gets "skank hide" and "lying jap" and some others that are only between us. Hopefully, if you are a friend of mine, you too can look forward to being called a bald-faced liar or a stupid Mexican. Or maybe I will make fun of your clothes or the way you walk. There's nothing wrong with your clothes or the way you walk! It's just my idea of funny. I didn't say it was right. I'm sure you are perfect and never say anything bad about anybody. I'm the only one.
I realized today that I don't think I have ever really had my feelings hurt. That hit me today like never before. Sure, I've gotten mad at people for doing something but I've never had the thought, "Wow, they really hurt my feelings!" In fact, I make fun of myself and think it's funny. I'm short, fat and bald. Tom Cruise, I ain't! At some point, I had to realize that and get over it. Oh, well! But because I've never had my feelings hurt, I don't always realize that not everybody thinks like I do and not everybody thinks things are funny like I do. Not everybody rags unmercifully on their friends like I do. I don't know why. It's probably best that they don't, come to think of it.
So, all of this to say that if I make fun of you or say something mean, it's because I like you. I'm not a mean-spirited kinda guy. I'm also not a "in touch with my feelings" kinda guy either so if I ask you if this is going to be a long story, or tell you I know you are gay because...whatever, then accept it as affection. Just don't get all mushy on me sweet-pants cuz it ain't like that with me. Cowboy-up fat boy! Does your sister know you're wearing her shoes? Do they sell those shirts for men? How does it feel to be the only...I mean...I like you. Have a nice day.
I say this because not everybody gets my humor and I realize that sometimes I go overboard. Maybe it's how I grew up. As a kid, I and my friends would rag on each other unmercifully. Not much was held back and it made for some tense times along with the funny when somebody would say something that probably crossed the line and somebody would get their feelings hurt. What made it funny, though, was that thing that crossed the line was usually the thing that, after everybody made up, was the thing we ragged on that person the most about and it was even funnier then. Dysfunctional? Probably, but still funny and that was all that mattered.
Like alot of people, I kid the people I like. You know I consider you my friend when I insult you and call you names or say something mean. My wife understands that when I call her a smelly pirate hooker that I say it with the love that is reserved only for her. She's the only smelly pirate hooker in my life. That's a term of endearment only for her. She also gets "skank hide" and "lying jap" and some others that are only between us. Hopefully, if you are a friend of mine, you too can look forward to being called a bald-faced liar or a stupid Mexican. Or maybe I will make fun of your clothes or the way you walk. There's nothing wrong with your clothes or the way you walk! It's just my idea of funny. I didn't say it was right. I'm sure you are perfect and never say anything bad about anybody. I'm the only one.
I realized today that I don't think I have ever really had my feelings hurt. That hit me today like never before. Sure, I've gotten mad at people for doing something but I've never had the thought, "Wow, they really hurt my feelings!" In fact, I make fun of myself and think it's funny. I'm short, fat and bald. Tom Cruise, I ain't! At some point, I had to realize that and get over it. Oh, well! But because I've never had my feelings hurt, I don't always realize that not everybody thinks like I do and not everybody thinks things are funny like I do. Not everybody rags unmercifully on their friends like I do. I don't know why. It's probably best that they don't, come to think of it.
So, all of this to say that if I make fun of you or say something mean, it's because I like you. I'm not a mean-spirited kinda guy. I'm also not a "in touch with my feelings" kinda guy either so if I ask you if this is going to be a long story, or tell you I know you are gay because...whatever, then accept it as affection. Just don't get all mushy on me sweet-pants cuz it ain't like that with me. Cowboy-up fat boy! Does your sister know you're wearing her shoes? Do they sell those shirts for men? How does it feel to be the only...I mean...I like you. Have a nice day.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Already gone to the dogs
Michael Vick, Michael Vick, Michael Vick...I don't read, watch or listen to any sports and all I hear about is Michael Vick...back in the NFL...dog killer...best quarterback...highest paid...blah, blah, bladoggety, blah! Everybody knows his history of dog-fighting and prison and all that stuff and everybody is so up in arms about this killer returning to football and what a disgrace it is.
Here's my opinion and this comes from (if you couldn't tell from this blog, inluding the last post) a serious dog-lover: I think it was a good move to bring Vick back to football. I think it was very smart and will be a win-win situation for everybody. Seriously, why not? Why does it make a difference what he has done in the past or even what he is doing now? He plays a game for a living. He's an entertainer and he's good at it. He is not a role model and if your son looks up to these people so much that their personal lives are interfering with your son's emotional development then it is your responsibility to train your son (or even realize it for yourself, big boy) that these people, like actors and musicians are just for entertainment. Enjoy what they do when they are entertaining you but leave it at that. It would be good to realize that these people are usually messed up individuals and should not be listened to or watched when they are talking about anything but the entertainment they specialize in.
It was a good move to bring him back because everybody gets publicity this way and publicity is another word for money. Vick gets publicity which means more people, in the long-run, will be sitting in the bleachers. The anti-cruelty to animals people get publicity which means more interest (money) in their cause. The NFL gets publicity through this whole thing and like they say: even bad publicity is good publicity. The NFL indefinitely suspended Vick which made them look like good guys and now they have lifted the suspension which makes them look like good guys (go figure!) so they are sitting pretty.
In fact, I think the NFL should recruit directly from the prisons. Now, that would be entertaining! Pay them minimum wage and watch them play then when the game is over, lock 'em back up! Ticket prices go down because the salaries are down so low and now we can all afford to go see some serious smash-mouth football. I might even watch that! I think they already do that in hockey anyway.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Bo, Sara, Dori
I care not much for a man's religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it. --Abraham Lincoln
Thursday, August 06, 2009
My friend Nancy
This is my friend Nancy. I'm sorry it has taken so long to put her picture up here but her husband Kirk (you remember Kirk) just sent me this picture of her. Nancy is a true friend and I just had to show my appreciation to her here. Nancy flew (see her wings?) up to Utah and she and my wife got me out of some hospital up there and brought me home. Not many friends would leave their job as president of the Baby Seal Protectors Society just to fetch me from some foreign state. I know that job doesn't pay much but it's her passion. In her spare time she teaches blind orphans in Nepal to read and write and was also the inspiration for the Victoria's Secret angel theme. Thank you, Nancy, for all that you have done for me and my wife and really, for the world. You are an angel!Concealed carry
How many times have you thought to yourself, "Now where am I going to conceal this handgun in these tight clothes?" How about next to your belly button? Or just below your nipples. I hate to think about where he kept the ammo! Do you need a concealed carry license if you're not wearing anything? What else was in there that he forgot about? I bet that's where my receipt book is! Hey...where's Dori???Sunday, August 02, 2009
First and last time
At my age, there are not too many things that I am too cool to do but I found one yesterday. I told my wife I needed to go to Walmart and get a few things and I would be back in a few minutes. Evidently, I sometimes forget I'm on crutches because it wasn't until I walked into Walmart and went to grab a grocery basket that I realized that my hands were already full. I tried sort of bumping it with my chest but that didn't work and I tried a couple of other ways to do it but I finally was about to give up and just go home when the sweet little old greeter lady at the front door saw me and immediately said she would get a motorized cart.
"No, no, no!", I pleaded but it was too late. Here she came, pedal to the metal. I looked around to make sure I didn't know anybody and finally just got on. She even took my crutches. "Don't go too fast" she said seriously as I sped off at 1/10th of a mph. How embarrassing. The old, fat ladies on the other carts looked at me like I was a gangster on the wrong side of town. Little kids looked at me like I was the Elephant Man. Everybody else that saw me tried not to stare but I know they were trying to figure out why I was on there. The worst part was the certain people who pretended that I wasn't trying to get by and would just stand there in the way. I would have run them over but the cart just stopped whenever it hit something and they never even knew it hit them. They're lucky this time...and there will never be a next time. Even I'm too cool for that!
Why?
Three weeks ago today I woke up in the emergency room in Vernal, Utah. I didn't know at the time that it was Vernal, Utah. In fact, I wasn't even sure I was in a hospital. I just knew I wasn't on my motorcycle like I knew I should be. A concussion was keeping things mentally cloudy for me but after a few hours of being in and out of it, I finally realized that my leg was pretty messed up. It was the next day before I knew it was broken but I knew pretty quickly that this was going to be a big problem.
I didn't know where I was. I didn't know where my bike was. I didn't know where all my stuff was and didn't even know who did know. I have to admit that a wave of self-pity swept over me and I remember turning on my side and thinking to myself, "God, why would you do this to me?" and just as soon as I had the thought I realized how ridiculous that was! I knew the answer but couldn't help myself from asking the question.
The first and foremost answer to that question is that I don't know. Isaiah 55:8 says, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD." I don't know the answer and that in itself is an answer and I'm ok with that. How does the sun come up? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do rabbits eat pellets but their poop is round? Why don't I have hair? (Ok, some of those questions are scientifically explainable but it doesn't mean I understand it.) I understand that I'm not ever going to understand some things.
Secondly: Why not me? Matthew 5:45 says, "He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Maybe God has allowed me to go through something like this so that I can relate to other people who have been in similar or worse situations and maybe I can even help them somehow. Maybe they need to see how God works in my life through this and they decide they might like to have Him work in their life in a similar way. Any ol' fool can have pity, Mr. T, but the Lord gives grace.
The third way I could answer the question of "Why would God do this to me?" is to ask myself what else could have happened. All that happened was that I broke my leg and had a concussion. I fell off of a moving motorcycle and that's all that happened! Talk about grace! I'm thinking about telling people some other story when they ask what happened because I'm tired of people telling me their motorcycle horror stories. Especially doctors! I know what could have happened but it didn't and I'm very grateful in a way that I wasn't before.
So, the question of "Why?" is a natural one, I think, but not necessary. Maybe I haven't broken any new ground here but nothing in my life has helped me to understand this as clearly as having this happen. The whole Book of Job is also a little more clear to me now, as well. I still don't understand the rabbit poop thing but some things are better left unknown. I hope that helps.
I didn't know where I was. I didn't know where my bike was. I didn't know where all my stuff was and didn't even know who did know. I have to admit that a wave of self-pity swept over me and I remember turning on my side and thinking to myself, "God, why would you do this to me?" and just as soon as I had the thought I realized how ridiculous that was! I knew the answer but couldn't help myself from asking the question.
The first and foremost answer to that question is that I don't know. Isaiah 55:8 says, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD." I don't know the answer and that in itself is an answer and I'm ok with that. How does the sun come up? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do rabbits eat pellets but their poop is round? Why don't I have hair? (Ok, some of those questions are scientifically explainable but it doesn't mean I understand it.) I understand that I'm not ever going to understand some things.
Secondly: Why not me? Matthew 5:45 says, "He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Maybe God has allowed me to go through something like this so that I can relate to other people who have been in similar or worse situations and maybe I can even help them somehow. Maybe they need to see how God works in my life through this and they decide they might like to have Him work in their life in a similar way. Any ol' fool can have pity, Mr. T, but the Lord gives grace.
The third way I could answer the question of "Why would God do this to me?" is to ask myself what else could have happened. All that happened was that I broke my leg and had a concussion. I fell off of a moving motorcycle and that's all that happened! Talk about grace! I'm thinking about telling people some other story when they ask what happened because I'm tired of people telling me their motorcycle horror stories. Especially doctors! I know what could have happened but it didn't and I'm very grateful in a way that I wasn't before.
So, the question of "Why?" is a natural one, I think, but not necessary. Maybe I haven't broken any new ground here but nothing in my life has helped me to understand this as clearly as having this happen. The whole Book of Job is also a little more clear to me now, as well. I still don't understand the rabbit poop thing but some things are better left unknown. I hope that helps.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The Real Old Faithful!
I'm sure your Harley is a fine bike. I'm not going to put you down and say you don't ride a real bike just because you don't ride a Honda. I'll always wave to you as we pass bikes on the highway and I will never wear a t-shirt that belittles your manhood because your bike doesn't sound like mine. I will encourage you to do the smart thing and sell that loud, shaking hunk of wish-I-were-status and buy a Honda. With the money you save you can buy a helmet to cover that do-wrag wrapped peabrain of yours.I put over 2,000 hard miles on her and she never once complained or failed to do what I asked going through the mountains on this past trip. It has over 30,000 miles on it total and has never given me a lick of trouble. It's as low-maintenance as an anvil but alot prettier.
I did learn something on this trip, though, and I hate to admit it but it shows how tough that bike is. I learned that, while it is always best to put the kickstand down when you get off, that is not a necessity. In fact, if you start to get off and you have not put down the kickstand it will help you off in a hurry! I stopped to adjust the load bundled on the back and just plain forgot to put the kickstand down. By the time I realized it was still up, it was too late and I wound up in the middle of the road squealing like a little girl. Evidently, when I tried to stop it from falling over, it was too late and all I did was wind up pulling the hamstring muscle in my left leg and the bike fell on my ankle. That was the second day of my trip and the rest of the time I had to pick up my leg by the pantsleg every time I got on or off of the bike.
I'm sure it didn't help the healing process when I broke my leg a week later but incredibly the bike seems to be in good shape even after being on the ground twice. My friend Ed called me in the hospital to tell me that he would pick up the bike while he was on vacation trailering his bike through the mountains and would bring it back at the end of his vacation. I haven't seen it in two weeks now. I bet Ed's bike is on the trailer right now and that Honda is carrying him through the mountains in style! For his sake, I hope he puts the kickstand down when he stops.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
My Red Green look
Before my trip to the northland my mother was telling me how worried she was about me but got some consolation from my sister. My sister told her not to worry about me because nobody was going to mess with me because I "look mean". She said she knew I was sweet but I looked like somebody mean. I was almost offended at first but I've come to like that idea. Then today at work a lady said I was starting to look kinda scary. Hmm...My facial hair looks like Red Green's without the sideburns. I just have the drip-down, goatee, fu-manchu thing going but it's getting kinda out of hand. Red Green says, "If the women can't find you handsome, at least they can find you handy." And I say if they can't find me handy then at least I can scare 'em.
The obligatory pic of Old Faithful
Evidently Old Faithful erupts every 45-60 minutes. I walked up and waited about 60 seconds before it popped off. It lasted for about 5 minutes. I was interested for about 2. Too many people around.
Trail Ridge Road in Colorado
I don't see this kind of scene very often in Texas. Those are 5 mature bull elks chilling out by the road.
Rodeo time
Pinedale throws a mean rodeo. Also, the best setting for one. Of course, my cell phone didn't capture the snow-covered mountains in the background. Use your imagination. Old Glory never looked better!Rendezvous parade in Pinedale, Wyoming
I just thought this was a good picture of a cute little girl obviously very proud to ride her bald-faced horse in the parade. You have to understand that for the other 51 weeks of the year there is not much going on in Pinedale but this weekend the little town goes all out. I felt like such a dork taking pictures at the parade but I had fun! Every single person I met was extremely nice.
Moonrise over Wyoming
You're wondering where my pictures are of the sunrise, aren't you? Well, to tell you the truth, I think I slept through most of the sunrises and sunsets (and maybe even a bike crash). This picture was night four of my trip and the most beautiful moonrise I've ever seen. This is the one in Big Sandy that God made especially for me since I was the only one around to see it.
There were parts of Wyoming that I would go 75 miles without seeing a single building of any kind. When I say it's in the middle of nowhere, unless you've seen it, you can't understand it. When I pulled off of the highway onto the dirt road that led to this camping spot, there was not another vehicle in sight and had not been in probably 20 minutes in either direction. I traveled about 2 miles down this dirt road before I came to the most beautiful lake. It had two guys fishing on the bank and they soon left after I got there leaving me with a beautiful sunset along a 20 or 30 acre lake all to myself. I threw my sleeping bag out in a fairly grassy area and watched the moon and stars move across the big sky. Again, pictures don't do it justice.
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