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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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!

h/t http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/ and http://nevermatteredbefore.blogspot.com/

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."

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.

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...

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!

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!

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.

Better caption this one quick cuz I can't stand to look at it!

Caption this in German.

My friends are more photogenic than I am.

Trevor and Isaac mugging for the camera.

A little sand never hurt anybody!

Ashlyn is a friend of the family. She likes the beach.

Caption it if you need to...

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.