21 November 2020

Mayday, Mayday!

Our government is corrupt.
Our Court System is corrupt.
Our Law Enforcement, at the management level, is corrupt.
Our Vote? Meaningless.
Can someone explain to me how we now differ from Mexico?

18 November 2020


Happened upon Jimmy Fortune singing this on TV last night.
You may also get a little dust in your eyes-

15 November 2020

Irresponsible Youth

WSF's comment to the post immediately below sparked a memory:
I was headed home on leave before departing for Viet Nam, driving my '68 Olds 442, (Oldsmobile's version of the Pontiac GTO platform) on Interstate 65 between Louisville and Indianapolis.
Thinking about what the future held- FM radio blasting; dress uniform complete with medals and badges hanging on the hook behind the driver's seat.
And that was when the Plymouth GTX pulled alongside.
He looked my way. I looked his. And right feet hit the firewalls.

The big number on my 442's speedo was 120. But there was then a gap of about half an inch where the speedometer needle could continue it's journey.
I figure I was going about 130 when acceleration on my car really began to die off, and I watched as the big GTX showed me its ass.
I backed out of the throttle with a smile, wondering what engine that Dude had under the hood... 440? 426?

A few miles down the road the red flashing lights came on in my rearview mirror... Indiana State Police.
I pulled onto the right shoulder and wondered how much trouble I was in.
"License and registration, please sir."
He went back to his car. Most of ya know the situation.
Anxious anticipation.

He came back to my door and asked, "Where ya going, Lieutenant?"
He had noticed my uniform. I told him-
"Viet Nam. I just finished flight school. I'll be flying helicopters there in a month."
He lifted his ticket pad and wrote a few lines.
"I clocked you at 85 in the 70 back there. I'm gonna write you a warning."
Odd smile on his face.
He knew better. I knew better. He knew that I knew better.

"I have a son in the infantry over there right now.

And as he turned to walk away he momentarily turned back and asked,
"How bad did he beat ya?"

But he didn't wait for an answer.

14 November 2020

Monsters On Four Wheels

The GM/Ford/Chrysler horsepower race started in the early '60's.
"She's real fine my 409".
"....But parked in her rickety old garage is a brand-new, shiny red, Super Stock Dodge!"
"Hey little Cobra, don't ya know you're gonna shut 'em down?!"

Insurance companies had not yet awakened. Premium gasoline was $.35 per gallon.
And they drank it to the tune of 13 mpg, IF you were careful with your right foot.
But WOW... the sound! The feeling of being pressed into the seat.

Cars like the one in the video, (with just slightly less power), could be purchased at our local dealership.
Want a sense of that sound and fury?
Watch the video:

06 November 2020

Sad. Just Sad.

Am I different than everyone else?
When I am bored with the computer on my lap I poke around and check on people that once were important in my life...
Past associates.
High School class and schoolmates.
Old flames.
And ex wives.

I was doing that today. There are several old girlfriends I would LOVE to know what has happened in their lives since I last heard from them.
I've found a few.
Too few. The search goes on.

I've had two wives.
I cheated on the first and she didn't take kindly to that.

My second wife is wonderful... treats me like a King. After divorcing "the second-best wife I ever had" I was gunshy about remarrying and lived with my present wife 10 years before I finally figured out I wanted to keep her. My present wife resented the second-best wife I ever had BIGLY because of that.

Today I was bored and started doing what I always do when I'm bored.
I surfed around trying to find lost people from my past. And there it was-
Her obituary. Complete with photo and long narrative about what a dynamo she was.
She was a teacher. I have no doubt she was a damned good one. Some of the condolence notes rave about her.
I paid for her Master's degree in education. I'm glad my money improved our world.

It's still a gut punch.
Divorce is generally ugly. Ours certainly was.
I couldn't realize at the time that she was doing me a great favor.
And I'm oddly sad.

02 November 2020

The Times THEY Lived In

In 1948 my parents purchased a little home South of Indianapolis, Indiana.
It had two bedrooms and one bath, on a 1/4 acre lot.

Dad worked an 8 to 5 job.
Mom was a homemaker. She saw us off to school, and was home when we got off the school bus.
By today's standards, to say our home was "modest" would be understatement.
But our family never lacked essentials. We never went hungry. Dad would come home and read the conservative and liberal Indy newspapers until Mom had food on the table.
Then we would all gather and eat together.
What a concept.

Today's kids want the "3-bdrm, 2-1/2 bath" as their "starter" home.
That requires two wage earners if they're lucky.
Dad might have to work two jobs... maybe Mom too.
And that reality may bring a Nanny into the picture.
Is this "improvement"?
When we look around at the overall mental health of our Nation, are we happy with what we see?

If they're broadcast in your area, take a look at "Leave It To Beaver" reruns, but put Mrs. Cleaver in a housecoat or simple cotton dress and try to imagine the world I grew up in.
I know... it's nearly impossible.
Try anyway.

27 October 2020

The Times We Live In

It was when I met our mail carrier at our mail box that I noticed it-
A BIG puddle of bright red paint, reaching from the center of the road to the shoulder, immediately in front of our home.
"Yeah, I've seen several of those puddles along the way to get here", he said.
Tracks through the puddle indicated one car had already passed through. Fearful the paint would splash all over following car's bodywork, I pieced together sections of garden hose and tried to dissipate the puddle.
I was mostly successful, but remnants of the patch remained.
What would cause someone to dump blood-red paint in front of several homes along our road?
I called the Sheriff's Department.

"No, we've not had any other reports" said she, "but I'll call the City and see if they've had any."
I did some investigating on my own and found little spots of red paint on our side of the road, stretching half a mile West of us.

I've been very open about my political views. Was this done by someone marking republican homes in our area? The thought sent a chill down my spine.
Was the "trouble" I've been expecting about to begin? Did I need to get a long gun out of my safe and have it close at hand?
And so I thought about it all afternoon. Was there any OTHER explanation?

Four hours later I had my "Eureka" moment.
It was "trash pickup" day. I had pulled our trash can out for pickup the prior night. When the truck stopped to pick up our can, it apparently dripped the paint all over our side of the road and left spots of paint intermittently for at least half a mile West of us.
I sighed in relief, then picked up the phone again to report my thoughts to the Sheriff.
She laughed.
But it's a sign of how tense we all are in this political environment, isn't it?

I'm still preparing for trouble.

19 October 2020

Using A Loose Rein

I'd hear this sound walking past his room:
And it sounded as if spit had to be flying all over the room.
Peeking in the door I'd see my young son lying supine on his bed with his model of the "Enterprise D" held at arm's length, flying through space. Sometimes the Saucer Section would detach and go off on a mission separate from the main part of the spacecraft, then return and be re-attached. These maneuvers always required extra spitty sounds.

He watched "Star Trek, The Next Generation" religiously. Eventually, mostly to just have something in common with him, we started watching too.
The shows were well produced, well acted, and the stories stood alone even if you didn't particularly like SciFi.
He watched "Babylon 5". We watched "Battlestar Gallactica" together.
But he LOVED "Stargate, SG-1."

His schoolwork didn't mean much to him. His report cards showed his disinterest. And this made me angry enough once to literally jump up and down in the living room like a madman trying to get his attention devoted to getting his education.
But we never came down hard on him because of his TV watching.
Turns out, he WAS getting an education...
From the television.

His marks improved in college and he got a job immediately after graduation... with a company building a video game devoted to... Stargate SG-1.
He's a nationally-known expert on the movie and various Stargate series.
And his knowledge has earned him a living for years.

Now he has started a new venture; a podcast devoted to the show. And it is taking off.
It's exciting to see how many absolutely DEVOTED fans the show still has. In his first month now, his podcast audience has grown every week.

If you are a fan, or have any interest at all, give him a look.
And let me know what ya think.

10 October 2020

Living In Rural America

So often, I'm just not in the mood to contribute here.
Is that because I'm able to rant on the "Book of Feces", as my friend Larry calls it?
Some snippet thoughts, just to post a post:

I love our neighborhood.
My "Chicago born and raised" wife is having trouble with it.
Neighbor to the West has Chickens.
And a large mixed Standard Poodle dog.
He's a love.
The chickens come into our West side yard and rid us of bugs and worms.
One of the chickens is a rooster.
He is a FINE specimen, and knows it.

Neighbor two doors to the East has chickens AND ducks.
The ducks waddle across our property into our pond.
They're fun to watch.
The chickens and ducks wander over and eat stuff I wouldn't wanta eat from our West yard.
One of these chickens is a cock.

Neighbor immediately to our East has two Chihuahua dogs.
These dogs prefer our home to theirs.
The MOMENT we show signs we are awake, they are in our laps...
Until 2130 hours.
We LOVE the dogs.
But they constantly bark at the Standard Poodle mix who also runs free in our yard.
BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK all day long.
The poodle doesn't care.

At about 0430 hours, the rooster to the West decides it is time for the sun to rise.
When he crows, the rooster to the East tries to convince him the sun won't come up unless he summons it.
Back and forth, back and forth...
I've decided the sound IS NOT "Cock-a-Doodle-Do!".
It is "Er-a-Roo-Aroo".
Believe me, I've heard it enough to know now.

Yes, we have our windows open in this beautiful Fall weather.
But we pay a price.
Dogs bark.
Roosters crow.
And "Miss Chicago" complains about it all.
She's worse than all the critters.
God be with me.

I'll try to post more than once monthly.
But no promises.