Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Yeah, just let 'em die! (If you're from Louisiana, you NEED to read this!)


Sticker Shock – Déjà Vu All Over Again

I can’t afford to get all the stuff I need to fix the roof at one time, so I’m getting what I can, as I can. The other day, I stopped in at the local hardware store and got a couple pounds of inch-and-a-quarter roofing nails. They didn’t have the old-fashioned hot-dipped galvanized style. All they had were the mirror-finished electro-plated ones. They look like they’re so slick that you should be able to push them in with your thumb. With their non-functioning pretend “rings” up next to the head (where the shingles would be, NOT the wood) I suspect they’d pop back out just about as easily.

The bad thing was the price. Two pounds of them won’t quite fit in one hand, but would easily fit if I put both hands together. The price? $6! That’s three dollars a pound for junk nails that I can only HOPE will stay in place, and will probably start rusting if someone simply mentions the subject of humidity. It’s been a long time since I bought any roofing nails, because I think I paid about 50 cents a pound for them.
I got to thinking, and it COULD have been as long ago as 1995 since I did any major construction on the house. That means a six-fold increase in about 20 years. I suppose that wouldn’t be considered unreasonable by many, but my working income only doubled in that time, and my “retirement” income is the same now as my working income was back then.

I got to thinking and decided that the last time that I used roofing nails was to lay some roll roofing. I think I paid $15 a roll for it. It’s $90-95 a roll now. About the same increase as the nails! It’s hard to have an income from 20 years ago and have to pay modern jacked-up prices for everything. I used to just blame the international bankers for devaluing the money. Then I learned what Lowe’s and others pay for some of their products. Now I realize that it’s the greed of both the bankers AND the retailers that causes the problem. I don’t blame the mom and pop stores like I went to, they often have to pay jobbers almost as much as retail, just to get the product. Hard times are comin’, folks, companies care nothing for their customers anymore and will squeeze the last penny from us (if the government leaves us any in the first place). © 2016

1st Side Story From Annie Weber’s Bio

My mother was raised for several years on Slate Creek, out at the far end of the county. She told me that once a month, her folks would go to the county seat to buy supplies. Mom and her younger brother were the youngest in the family, so her folks always took them along rather than leave them at the farm. It was apparently quite a trip, for they’d start long before daylight with the old horse and wagon. There was a place to hang a lantern on the front left corner of the wagon, in part to help them see the road and maybe to help in passing, if they met another wagon.\

They’d spend a few hours getting to town, and then a few hours shopping, before heading back to the farm. Before leaving for the country, her folks would buy them each a bottle of pop, plus they’d get some cheese, bologna and crackers. On the way home, she and her brother would sit in the back of the wagon and eat and drink until the pop was gone and their stomachs were filled. She said that it was sometimes four in the morning before they got back home. It made for a long day for everyone, including the horse. © 2016

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Third Cutting, Yellow Jackets, GOOD Honey And Poor Hygiene

I got the lawn about 2/3’s done yesterday. Due to foul weather and mower breakdowns, it was only about the fourth time for the year. It looked about like what our third cuttings of wild hay used to look like on the farm. Any clover or orchard grass had been lost to the hot weather or the deer. That left a little “fall grass” (crab grass), some form of small foxtail, broom sedge, various other green plants of unknown name and worth and what my dad called “greasy grass.”  I don’t know its official name, but it has purplish-colored seed-heads and leaves a dark oily substance on your fingers when you rub your hand through it. Some of the broom sedge was three feet tall! I mowed very slowly, but the job was still a bit rough-looking. It’ll look a lot better if I can mow it again soon.

About twenty minutes from “quitting time’ yesterday, I felt a familiar sensation on my left side, swatted a bit and floored the mower. Yep, yellow-jackets! It had been so rainy this spring that I hadn’t really been watching for them. STUPID mistake! FIVE minutes from finishing up today, I got lax and felt TWO familiar sensations, one on the back of my left arm and one on my left hand. Once again, I swatted and gunned the mower. I’d been over the spot several times and thus considered it safe, but not so.

Tonight, I went out after dark and found the first nest and gassed it good. I couldn’t find the second one though, and a couple of the little devils started flying around from the light, so I’ll try to mark the nest with a stick tomorrow and get them that night. Last night, I learned that acetaminophen and Chlortabs do nothing to lessen the ache of a sting. Tonight, my wife found some Sting-Kill, so I’ll see how IT does.

A friend of my sister lost her husband last year and his beehives died last winter, as well. I understood that she had several gallons of honey that she needed rid of and called her recently, offering to buy some. It turned out that I had heard wrong, but she sent me a little tiny jar of what she had for free, unexpected by me. I’ll have to send her a thank you card. I put it in the little bear that I’d gotten at Walmart, and it was so stiff, compared to the phony stuff that Walmart sells, that I can barely squeeze it out of the bear! It’s good, dark fall honey, like I prefer, so it tastes much better, too.

I SHOULD go shower, but I’m going to put on the Sting-Kill and go to bed grubby. (You can do that when you have your own bedroom and no job to be at when six in the morning rolls around.) © 2016

Teepee Etiquette (a link)


Like The Red Cross?

I haven't donated to them for years; it's mostly a money-making organization for the brass.

People Meds For Dogs

Click image to enlarge.

Three Memes From Facebook


Click image to enlarge.

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Three Weeks+ With A C-PAP Machine.

Some folks thought that I'd take a while getting used to having air blow in my nose but, actually, I had no trouble with it even the night I tried it during the test at the hospital. I have to use the little gizmos that fit over the nostrils rather than the whole nose, since the bridge of my nose is too narrow for the regular type to seal properly. I was told that I might lose a little weight after using it a short while, but that hasn't really been the case with me. For one thing, I've been on water pills for quite a while and have lost about 45 pounds of total fluid. Since I figured any weight loss due to the C-PAP would be fluid related, I really wasn't expecting much. Plus, the doctor said my apnea really wasn't that bad, so that would seem to predict a limited influence, also. What DID happen is that my weight has seemed to stabilize. The last three pounds that I had lost previously would be gone one day and back the next, like a yoyo. Now it's stabilized at the lower number. That's good, I guess. Also, I seem to be sleeping longer at a stretch most nights, in spite of still waking up to get rid of "water." - lol - That's good, too, I guess!


It seems as if WordPress has somehow acquired the ability to get on my reading list. The only way that could happen (I THINK) would be if they commandeered the address of a blog that quit publishing OR if it's simply a scam by a hacker. Either way, it's not to be trusted. Just sayin'!

Musical Tastes

Siting in a restaurant today, I heard Dire Straights doing "The Sultans of Swing." That brought back some memories! Some folks would probably consider me strange, because my musical taste is VERY eclectic. I like everything from early American folk music to bluegrass to old-time country (but NOT this crap they call country today) to classic to rock to gay nineties (1890's when gay didn't mean a pervert), to music through the 20's to present. I liked the Moody Blues, Crosby-Stills-Nash and Young, the Doors, America and others. I enjoyed John Denver, Carly Simon and James Taylor (until I learned that he was a complete moron when it came to politics). I've NEVER cared for acid rock, or music by people who paint themselves up like zombies or space aliens, or whatever they're trying to do. It's mostly gospel for me now. Guess I've changed a bit over the years.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

SOROS - A RICH Charles Manson (my words) Who's Learned To Profit From The Misery Of Humanity (a video worth watching)


Get Crystal's New Book!


Paraprosdokians From Facebook

1. Where there's a will, I want to be in it.
2. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but it's still on my list.
3. Since light travels faster than sound, some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
4. If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.
5. War does not determine who is right - only who is left.
6. Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting
it in a fruit salad.
7. They begin the evening news with 'Good Evening,' then proceed to tell you why it isn't.
8. To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.
9. I thought I wanted a career. Turns out, I just wanted pay checks.
10. In filling out an application, where it says, 'In case of emergency, notify:' I put "DOCTOR."
11. I didn't say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.
12. Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street...with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy.
13. Behind every successful man is his woman. Behind the fall of a successful man is usually another woman.
14. A clear conscience is the sign of a fuzzy memory.
15. You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.
16. Money can't buy happiness, but it sure makes misery easier to live with.
17. There's a fine line between cuddling and...holding someone down so they can't get away.
18. I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not so sure.
19. You're never too old to learn something stupid.
20. To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.
21. Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.
22. Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.
23. Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.
24. I'm supposed to respect my elders, but now it’s getting harder and harder for me to find one.


Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Wisdom From Fredd (well worth the read) (a link)


My Latest Facebook Post

Now I just have to ask Facebook - Why, on God's green earth, would I be interested in anything said or done by baby-killing, sodomizing, gun-grabbing, tax instigating, muslim importing, God-hating perverts like the democrats? Yet there it is, in the "suggested groups" on the right side of my screen, a blue jackass (a thoroughly appropriate symbol) with the ridiculous words "Proud Democrat" (socialist) on its side, above a link for my local democrat executive committee. I may be getting older, but I haven't lost my mind just YET! Incidentally, the three five-pointed stars on the jackasses side are upside down, thus making them Satanic symbols. Now isn't THAT fitting?

107 Years And One Day Ago

107 years and one day ago my grandfather sent this to his sister.


Poultry Ride (a link) lol

Marian's Hunting Stories, etc., etc., etc...: Poultry Ride

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Concerning Social Security (from an email)

From an email -
(And think of all the people who died before they collected Social Security!)
Remember, not only did you and I contribute to Social Security but your employer did, too. It totaled 15% of your income before taxes.
If you averaged only $30K over your working life, that's close to $220,500.
Read that again.
Did you see where the Government paid in one single penny?
We are talking about the money you and your employer put in a Government bank to insure you and me that we would have a retirement check from the money we put in, not the Government.
Now they are calling the money we put in an entitlement when we reach the age to take it back.
If you calculate the future invested value of $4,500 per year (yours & your employer's contribution) at a simple 5% interest (less than what the Government pays on the money that it borrows).
After 49 years of working you'd have $892,919.98.
If you took out only 3% per year, you'd receive $26,787.60 per year and it would last better than 30 years (until you're 95 if you retire at age 65) and that's with no interest paid on that final amount on deposit!
If you bought an annuity and it paid 4% per year, you'd have a lifetime income of $2,976.40 per month.
Entitlement my foot; I paid cash for my social security insurance!
Just because they borrowed the money for other government spending, doesn't make my benefits some kind of charity or handout!!
Remember the benefits for members of Congress?
+ free healthcare, + outrageous retirement packages, + 67 paid holidays, + three weeks paid vacation, + unlimited paid sick days.
Now that's welfare, and they have the nerve to call my social security retirement payments entitlements?
They call Social Security and Medicare an entitlement even though most of us have been paying for it all our working lives, and now, when it's time for us to collect, the government is running out of money.
Why did the government borrow from it in the first place? It was supposed to be in a locked box, not part of the general fund!
DEMAND that the government quit sending money overseas until Social Security is REfunded!

Something Of Their Great-Grandfathers'


Above, you see a brass belt buckle, a chromed belt buckle and a cloth measuring tape. The brass buckle and tape belonged to one relative and the chromed buckle to another. I’m not sure just how I ended up with them, but they’re mine for the present.

I never remember the old gentleman wearing the chromed buckle, but then, I wasn’t around him much. He would have been 50 years old, when it was made in 1930. As a result, I don’t think he would have bought it for himself. At that time, he had kids ranging from five to 20, so I’m guessing it was either a Christmas or birthday gift from one or more of them, but I have no way of being sure.

I remember well the gent who wore the brass buckle. He wore it for years with a cloth military-style work belt. The belt got replaced a few times, I think. The tape was his, too, though I never saw him use it. I certainly don’t need these items. I have memories of both men, so these small mementos will soon be the latest victims of my “ridding out.” I know a great grandson of each man, so I’m going to pass them on. I hope they take care of them, but neither met the original owner. I still have a LOT of items to go, mostly small, so you might see a few of them. © 2016

As Of Late

I haven’t done much keeping you informed lately about my exciting life and brilliant thoughts, so here goes:

I went to the quick med place the other evening with chest pain. I thought it was my gut, but with Congestive Heart Failure and A-Fib, I figured that I’d better get it checked out. It WAS my stomach, but the doctor sent me to the ER to have my blood checked to be sure. I turned out to be fit as a broken fiddle, so they sent me home.

The AC in the truck isn’t quite keeping up on hot days, nor is the one in the house. The truck probably needs Freon, or whatever. As for the house, we’re cooling more of it than we need. There’s a big beam and a row of posts going down the center of our house and I’d like to put a curtain along the beam to block off the half we never use anyway. The missus says no, so the AC and heater work harder than needed and the bills stay higher than we can afford.

I wish my wife hadn’t gotten so prissy in her old age. If she’d eat what I could forage, hunt and fish for, I think we could reduce our grocery bill by a third.

I picked up a package of oranges at Chinamart the other day. I’ve never eaten TOUGH oranges before. They’re moist enough, they’re just tough! While there, I procured three electric buggies in a row that were so low on charge that I knew better than to use them. I plugged them all in as people quite using them and finally found a fourth one with a full charge, not that it worked exactly right.

While there and in another store, I looked for some rope. You can’t find either manila or nylon rope in the junky stores anymore; you have to go to a legitimate hardware store. All the cheap joints have are paracord, jute twine and poly. Poly turns to shreds in sunlight before long, so I consider it worthless.

The weatherman keeps predicting storms, but all we ever get is a few rumbles of thunder and a three minute down-pour. We need rain BADLY. Still, the grass needs mowed, since it’s been WEEKS since the last mowing. However, when I went to start the mower yesterday, the guy from the shop had accidentally left the switch on and the battery was DEAD from sitting there that way for two weeks. It wasn’t a new battery to begin with, so I don’t know if it will take a charge still, or not. Sing along with me, “If it weren’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all…”

SOME of you may remember, many decades ago, when it was popular to get your blue-jeans long, so you could turn up the bottom of the legs. I always have to do that anymore, since the manufacturers think anyone as big around as I am must be about eight feet tall. My wife just heard today, on the TV, that the style is coming back. OF COURSE IT IS! I always have been a trend-setter!

With that one, the “Sage of Tick Ridge” bids you a good day! © 2016

Ray Stevens Does It Again!

As only he could!

Monday, August 15, 2016

From An 87-Year-Old Man By Email

From the time I was able to vote I voted Republican. I am now 87 years old.
  Recently I received a questionnaire and request for money from the Republican Party and strongly agree with every question, as I have since Obama was elected.
  Unfortunately the one question that was missing is: What have the Republicans done for the American people?
  We gave you a majority in the House and Senate, and you never listened to us. Now you want our money, my money, more money. You should be more concerned about our votes, not our money.
  You are the establishment which means all you want is to save your jobs and line your pockets.
  Well guess what? It's not going to happen.
  TRUMP hasn't asked for a dime.
  You might think we are fools because you feel Trump is on a self-destruct course, but look beyond Washington and listen to the masses. Nobody has achieved what he has, especially in the state of New York.
Here's why I want Trump. Yes, he's a bit of an ass; yes, he's an egomaniac; but I don't care.
 The country is a mess because politicians suck.           
The Republican Party is two-faced and gutless, and illegals are everywhere.
I want it all fixed!
I don't care that Trump is crude.
I don't care that he insults people.
I don't care that he has changed positions.
  I don't care that he's been married 3 times.
   I don't care that he fights with Megan Kelly and Rosie O’Donnell.
  I don't care that he doesn't know the name of some Muslim terrorist.
  Our country has become weak, bankrupt. Our enemies are making fun of us. We are being invaded by illegals. We are becoming a nation of victims where every Tom, Ricardo and Hassid is a special group with special rights to a point where we don't even recognize the country we were born and raised in, "AND I JUST WANT IT FIXED."
 And Trump is the only guy who seems to understand what the people  want.
  I'm sick of politicians, sick of the Democratic Party, the Republican Party, and sick of illegals. I just want this thing fixed.  Trump may not be a saint, but he doesn't have lobbyist money controlling him; he doesn't have political correctness restraining him; all you know is that he has been very successful; a good negotiator; he has built a lot of things; and, he's also not a politician. And, he says he'll fix it. And, I believe him because he is too much of an egotist to be proven wrong or looked at and called a liar.
  I don't care if the guy has bad hair.
  You are welcome to pass this on, or not.
Thought for the Day  "No country can sustain, in idleness, more than a small percentage of its numbers.
 The great majority must labor at something productive!"
  P.S.  No Borders, No Language, No Culture = No Country.
   I sure  hopes this goes to everyone. This says it all.

Ammon's Salt And Pepper Hearing

If you aren't keeping track of what's happening to the folks who were in the stand-off out west some time back, you really should. Remember, the main reason that all happened is because Hillary and Harry Reid promised the radio-active minerals under that land to Russia and China. Please click the link and scroll down to where the above title appears. One of the guys was beaten recently, for no apparent reason, then they pull chicken sh_t like this on another guy. What they can do to them, they can do to you and I.

Another Facebook Meme



Some Good Facebook Memes



The Rothschild Conspiracy Explained In Four Minutes (video link) - PLEASE WATCH!


Friday, August 12, 2016

Just Enough Christianity To Offend EVERYONE

I was raised in the Methodist Church, but I wasn’t saved until age 28, in a Baptist church. Solely to placate my wife, I joined that church. When we got a devilish preacher, a few years later, we dropped out of that church and joined another one. A few MORE years later, gossip got so bad there, that we quit going to church altogether. That was probably about ten years ago. Strangely, our faith in the Lord is even stronger today than it was then, because He’s made His help and presence known multiple times since then. The last few years, He’s helped us through the most financially stressful times of our life, in ways that can only be explained by His grace.

I’m blessed to have a pretty good selection of Christian friends online, and have a prayer circle of sorts. And they’re from all around the world and of many denominations. One or two even come from a denomination which thinks it isn’t a denomination!

Now I’ve always been open about the fact that I don’t agree with most organized churches. Each one has its Eleventh Commandment because, after all, God sometimes forgets things (at least that’s how I assume they would explain their addition). Then there are the “Christ based cults,” as some folks call them. This term is usually explained by saying that any denomination that puts the words of a man, or men, above the words of the Lord (the Bible) is a cult. This would include the Catholics, the Mormons, the Amish and a few others, perhaps. I basically agree with that definition. The Jehovah’s Witnesses, on the other hand, simply threw out the parts of the Bible they didn’t like, including Jesus.

While I don’t believe as they do, I NORMALLY resist the urge to belittle their denominations. This is NOT because I will “tolerate” anything, as some supposed Christians appear to do, but because I’ve seen that within each denomination, there are at least a few folks who appear to believe what the Bible says over what their denominational leaders say. I don’t hide my beliefs from those people; I just don’t dwell on the issues on which we disagree. After all, my understanding of the scriptures is far from perfect also. I DO have to wonder why they continue to remain in a denomination which they know is corrupt at the higher levels, as well as continue to support it, but that’s their problem.

For that reason, I find myself often not reposting “Christian” posts on Facebook. I may, at heart, agree with the post but if its main purpose appears to be simply the bashing of another denomination, I just pass on it. (I also ignore the ones that demand that I type “amen” to prove that I love Jesus, in fact, I block the original source when possible.) So, I will at times post things that you MIGHT find offensive to your beliefs but, rest assured, it’s nothing about you personally. Also, I may turn around and quote the very person or denomination I just posted negatively about. The reason? The truth is the truth, even when it appears in unexpected places.

So, “that’s the way I roll” as they say. I’ll give you the same opportunity, so I figure that’s fair. I MAY not even disagree with you if you step on my toes (but that’s not a promise). LOL  © 2016

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Annie Weber, Installment 19

The continuing story of a neighbor lady, as told to me.

Life was very different living on the Marine Corps base than on the West Virginia hill farm I’d just left. For one thing, the place was loaded with people. The trailers in the park were pretty close together and there were quite a few of them. They were all occupied by married marines, so while the men were gone through the day, many of the women would form little groups at one trailer or another and chit-chat. Some of the conversations were a bit boring, some were interesting, some were benign, and some couldn’t be called anything but gossip. It sure beat being alone all the time, though.

Maria, the first girl who befriended me was the one who lived next door. She was from Panama and had the accent to prove it. I think she was of Italian extraction and came from a well-to-do family. Her folks had a summer home in the country and a city home for winter. At least one of her sisters was a college professor. Her family came close to disowning her for marrying a “grunt,” in the military, but once they got to know him, they all seemed to get along. I met her sister once, and she seemed very nice.

Several of Maria’s friends were from Central and South America, as well. As a result, I probably spent more time with them than I did the American girls in the park. Sometimes, when we were all together, they’d get to talking in Spanish or whatever and Maria would have to remind them that I didn’t speak the language, so they should keep it in English. I could tell that a couple of the girls felt put-upon by that, but most didn’t seem to care.

A few girls stand out in my memory from those days. Mostly, it was Maria, as she was my best friend for the whole time that I was there. Roy and I would get tickled at her when she and her husband had a spat. You could hear her husband talking at a low mumble, knowing that to speak normally, half the trailer court would hear him. Then you’d hear Maria respond with her Italian temper, talking fast and loud and not caring if half the world heard. Then you’d hear her husband again starting off at a near whisper “Now, Maria…” They were both good people and always worked it out, though. Her family probably was eventually pleased with the guy, as he finally made rank and went on to become a Marine Corps lawyer.

Then there was “the Georgia peach.” She used the term quite freely on herself and acted like she was God’s gift to men. I didn’t care for her “suthen belle” act and considered her more pit than peach.

There was also a girl from Iceland. She was very nice and had the smoothest, milkiest complexion I’ve ever seen. Also, there was an albino girl. Technically, she was black, so her albinoism not only looked unusual in its own right, but looked doubly so with the black contours of her face. She was married to a black guy who seemed to treat her okay, but she had emotional problems brought on by dealing with her appearance.

There was one girl that was married to a fellow who’d served with Roy in Vietnam. Over there, the guy had a native girl that he shacked with whenever he could, even though he had a wife at home. Roy kept telling him that he’d better straighten up or bad would come of it, but the guy wouldn’t listen. He’d been back in the states for about a year, when the Vietnamese girl sent the guy’s wife a letter, telling about those times and with the letter a picture of the resulting child. She didn’t handle it well, understandably. She began drinking and turned into an alcoholic. They eventually divorced.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

A Short August Porch Sitting (Discussed In A Long-Winded Fashion)

I hadn’t been asleep since 4:30 anyway, so I got up early today (by my standards) so I could go to the chiropractor and get cranked on, and then go to my doctor’s office for a blood draw. By the time I got home, I was tired from lack of sleep, so I went back to bed for a while. It was 11 when I got up, and the Mighty Dachshund needed to drain. Afterward, we sat on the porch a while. The past month has been hot and rainy here. It’s been too hot to sit on the porch through the day and too buggy at night, so the poor pooch hasn’t had much time on the “promenade.”

Today, it was only about 80 degrees at the time, so I thought I’d give it a try. The weatherman said there was a good chance of at least one thunder shower today, but the cloudiness helped keep the temperature down, so that was good. The humidity remained high, of course.

There wasn’t a leaf stirring, but it wasn’t bad outside for just sitting. A cold iced tea for me and a cold bowl of water for her might have made it better, though. It was surprisingly quiet for that hour of the day. At first, the only obvious sound was that of the rain crow (flicker), down in the woods, mournfully wailing away about the coming rain. What he/she was doing in the woods, I don’t know, since I usually see them more in the fields. Eventually, the yearly cicadas (as opposed to the 17 year variety, now gone) began singing, and I realized why things had seemed so quiet. They stopped after only about five minutes, though, and the near silence resumed. Even the rain crow had stopped its wailing. Some real crows raised a fuss over on the neighbor’s place for a couple minutes and then settled down.

Gradually, the sounds of man began to creep in. First the sound of a small aircraft could be heard as it climbed into the sky. Five minutes earlier, it would have been taking off from the local airport about five miles away. It hadn’t been gone long when what sounded like a school bus was heard in the distance heading our way. It turned out to be one of the neighbors in his 2-1/2 ton commercial box truck. It has about an 18 foot box, and logos on the side, but it doesn’t mention the kind of business, only the name. Since I’ve never met the guy, I have no idea what he does. At least we wave when we pass. I never dreamed that the day would come out here in the country when I wouldn’t know a guy who lives less than a quarter mile away. Anymore, they come and go like city folks—here for a year or two and then gone.

Another small plane could soon be heard, that one coming close enough that I could see it through the treetops as it climbed through the hazy air. A few minutes later, I was concentrating on the pattern of the moss on the white oak beside which our first dachshund is buried. While noting the crude heart shape of the mossy patch, an older car rumbled by on the road, but I didn’t look up until it was mostly hidden by brush. I got the impression that it might have been one of the old muscle cars. Five minutes later, I heard it coming back, so I made a point of watching for it. It turned not to be a muscle car, but a Chevy Impala two-door from the late 60’s. It’s shiny grey metal flake paint and the sound of what must have been a souped-up engine, made me think that  it was probably the driver’s pride and joy. He wasn’t moving fast, but I got the distinct impression that he could if he wanted to!

After a little more comparative silence, my wife came to the door to see if we were still among the living, so I knew she was bored and lonesome. With that, the mighty Dachshund and I returned to our air-conditioned “cave’ to watch the TV with the missus. I’d have preferred to have stayed outside a bit longer, and so would the pooch, but you know how it is when duty calls, especially if there might be ice cream involved eventually. © 2016

Sunday, July 31, 2016

A Sunday Grump

My wife got to feeling badly at Chinamart yesterday, so we didn’t get nearly everything that we needed. As a result, we had to go back today, but we went to the one across town. Crossing the tributary river to the Ohio on the way, I noticed it was muddy to the nth degree. It drains mostly woodlands, rather than cropland, but it muddies with the least rain of any stream I know. It’s like they used to say about the Missouri, “too thick to drink and too thin to plow.”

People everywhere are getting ruder and more low class, but it’s amazing the difference in people from just one local area to another. The other Chinamart is located sort of between the county seat and a slightly better off community to the north. People there often aren’t what they were 20 years ago, but they aren’t too bad yet either, comparatively speaking. Crossing the tributary river makes an obvious difference, though. The folks over there, on average, seem to be down a couple steps in couth from the other store location. They are much more likely to steal your cart, walk in front of you, and hog aisles. Plus, they rarely use the words “excuse me, please, thank you” and “you’re welcome.” Not everyone from that area is like that, of course, but I’m speaking on the average.

I once told a local college professor that, put in a room of locals, I could probably pick out the folks from that end of town within five minutes. He acted insulted and asked how I could do that. I told him that the guys, at least, tended to be ruder, cruder and louder. He then smiled and said that he had to agree, but just wondered what I’d say. Sadly, the folks on the other end of town are trying hard to reach that level of rudeness.

My wife and I both have to use the electric carts anymore, due to hip problems. Unfortunately, not only does Chinamart not have enough handicapped spaces, they don’t have enough carts either. The baby-boomers are getting old quickly, and most stores aren’t keeping up. The other day, I retrieved and plugged in three carts before I found one with enough charge to use. Many don’t work right when you DO get them. I had one go south on me at the very back of the store the other day. Luckily, I can still hobble along when necessary.

As I often do, I looked at the tools today. I spent most of my life using hand tools, so they still hold interest for me, especially since I used to work in a factory that made them. The current version of the Ames single-bitted axe stocked by Chinamart is a doozy. It has a thick blade that measures a quarter inch thick within a half inch of the toe and a quarter inch of the heel. Maybe it would work for splitting firewood, but I doubt it. It sure as heck couldn’t be used for chopping. The head had a really rough finish like it was either cast steel or the dies in the forge had a really crude finish. It was made in India. The plastic handle must have been made in America, since a little label said “assembled in America of foreign and domestic parts.”

I hate spending time at Chinamart, but the missus does the shopping and she says that we can’t afford to shop anywhere else. She’s probably right, unfortunately. Still, if she would go before me, I’d probably never darken their door again. © 2016

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

The Research Is Complete

I'd asked my stepson if he'd ask my 9-year-old granddaughter (by him) how many of the songs I listed from my childhood that she knew. I was surprised how many she knew, but also WHICH ONES she knew and which she didn't. The list is below, and the ones she knew are in bold.

Who’s in the Kitchen with Dina?
Wreck of the Old 97
The Ballad of Casey Jones
The Ballad of John Henry
Goober Peas
Skip to my Lou
Red River Valley
America the Beautiful
Star Spangled Banner
Old Joe Clark
Little Liza Jane
Goodbye Old Paint
Battle Hymn of the Republic
Oh Shenandoah
Oh My Darling Clementine
Oh The West Virginia Hills
God Bless America
Blue-Tailed Fly
Jim Along Josie
La Cucaracha
Three Spanish Galleons
Hot Tortillas
Las Chiapanecas
Nelly Bly
Grandfather’s Clock
I’ve Been Working on the Railroad
Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair
My Old Kentucky home
Old Folks at Home
Hail Columbia Gem of the Ocean
The Caisson Song
Anchors Away
The U.S. Air Force Song
The Marine Hymn
Oh, Susanna
Wait for the Wagon
Down in the Valley
Row-Row Your Boat
Old MacDonald


I had two errands to run this morning. First, I went to get set up with my CPAP machine. The letters stand for “continuous positive airway pressure.” I’ll be using it for the first time tonight. It will supposedly make things easier on my heart, lower my blood pressure, and MAYBE give me more energy. I hope it does. The doctor said that my apnea wasn’t bad, but that I’d still benefit from the machine. I’ve been snoring for 40 years, so I may have had apnea for that long. If so, that may be a lot of what put me in the shape I’m in.

The second errand was delivering a written resignation at the trucking company where I worked, so they could take my name off of the driving roster. I’d kept hoping that my strength would return and I could go back to work, but I finally had to give up on that little dream. I’m officially retired from full-time work at this point, but I can’t say that I’m entirely happy about it. I wasn’t doing all that well financially when I was working; now we’ll have to try surviving on half that amount.

I really enjoyed driving a dump truck and saw some sites and went some places that I never would have seen otherwise. While I don’t miss getting up at 4:30 in the morning, I DO miss the morning bull sessions before work and I miss the driving more than I ever imagined that I would. I was treated well at the company, with the exception of one troubled fellow, but I received NOT ONE call, visit or card from my bosses during the ten months that I’ve been off, so I guess I know my true value to them. I DID get two calls from one of the secretaries, but I think she was put up to it the second time.

Things have been slow around here in the construction business, and that secretary told me that there had only been two weeks this year when at least one person didn’t get a low-earnings slip with their paycheck. She told me that I haven’t missed all that much, work-wise. I’d noticed a lot of trucks still sitting in the yard on the few occasions that I’d driven by the place.

Oh well, I have some pleasant memories of my time there; but life moves on. There are still things that I might be able to do to raise a few bucks, and I don’t mean just thinning my stuff down by selling unneeded items. I also have what could be called “hobby interests” to keep my mind occupied, so I’ll be fine. Since I can’t deal physically with some of the maintenance around here, we’ll probably consider selling out more seriously. 

I used to look forward to retirement, but not under THESE circumstances. Whatever happens, life will be different, that’s for sure. © 2016

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

A Change In The Weather

For better or worse, we put a wireless doorbell in my bedroom so my wife can ring for me if the Mighty Dachshund needs to pee in the night. Some nights, though, I wake up between 4 and 5 o’clock and go ahead and put her out, as I did this morning. I usually sleep very late of a morning during this horrid weather we’ve been having. Not this morning though. At 8:30, my doorbell rang. I asked from the top of the stairs what was wrong, since my wife usually puts the pooch out before I get up, as long as it’s daylight. The missus told me that the pooch needed to poop. SOMEHOW, I have become the “poopee” for the furry little “pooper.” The missus seems to think the task beneath her, probably because we wipe her off afterward to be sure she doesn’t drag anything onto the carpet. (Ah, I mean the dog, not the missus.)

Knowing full well that it was probably bogus, I went downstairs and dutifully took out the little bugger. She dropped immediately on getting all four feet on the ground and drained by the front step for what seemed like an eternity. I then walked her over to her “dumping ground” and asked if she needed to poop. She just looked up at me like I’d asked a silly question and stood there for 2-3 minutes just listening and sniffing the breeze. After several more such questions, she finally looked at me in obvious disgust and assumed the position. Despite her apparent lack of desperation, she did leave a healthy deposit behind her. It would seem that she really only needed to pee, and did the other just to shut me up. Even just standing there with her, the humidity had sweat beading on me anywhere that I had bare skin.

It was 86 when we left for the mall about one o’clock (about 6-10 degrees cooler than it has been), but the humidity made it feel like a sauna outside. Nothing new; it’s felt like that for a week. It was 90 in the parking lot, so I had to let the AC run on the truck as my wife took her round inside. That being the case, I decided to keep the truck moving and so, did a slow reconnaissance of the area for possible wild edibles. I found some places to look for poke next spring, but nothing else.

Once home, we had a storm about 3 and about a half hour of moderate rain. About 6, we had a lesser storm, but about an hour of gentle rain. Toward the end of it, I went out on the porch and sat in the swing a while. It seemed to continue sprinkling for a long time after the actual rain quit. A slight breeze arose, shaking the tree leaves just enough to make it sound like the rain was picking up, though it wasn’t. Both the humidity and the temperature were reduced by the rain, and it was almost comfortable outside when I went in the house about six fingers from sunset.

The week ahead is supposed to be a bit rainy and 5-10 degrees cooler than last week. I can use the cooler temps and the ground can use the rain. Dog days go out the 11th, so things MIGHT cool a little more then. I hate to sound ungrateful, but I long for fall. It won’t be long; the ironweeds are starting to bloom, along with the Joe Pye weeds. Before you know it, the goldenrods will be blooming. Already, the forest green of the woods is starting to be polka-dotted with an occasional speck of yellow. I hate to wish my already too-short life away, but I can’t wait to see the leaves start turning. For now, though, I’ll just settle for more seasonable weather. © 2016

Monday, July 25, 2016

Concerning That Last Post

For those who only scanned the article, Euripides isn't saying that we're stupid, he's just mentioning studies done by liberals trying to prove that we are. The problem that liberals can't fathom is that conservatives and liberals disagree mostly on social and therefore (anymore) political issues. Though the liberals probably wouldn't admit it, nearly all of these issues are MORAL issues at heart. Unfortunately, moral issues require morals on the part of those involved to be wisely decided, and a large segment of society no longer has morals of ANY kind. Liberals will, of course, be offended by that statement since it will by nature include THEM. Liberals like to think that they are the most moral folks on the planet, but they're actually the LEAST, by and large. The reason that I say that is that there ARE no morals without GOD!

How does that figure in, you may ask? Well liberal morals are based solely on the opinions of man, or what is called humanism. These embrace the idea that man is basically good and that he can solve all moral dilemmas by applying what is good for the greatest number of people or "the common good"
to every problem.

The problem is that so many folks disagree over what really constitutes the common good. Naturally, each liberal person thinks that they have a corner on the market on what makes the common good, because they have such high moral standards! But, I state again that barring GOD from the equation leaves no morals at all. Liberal "morals" are simply their OPINION of right and wrong. They don't agree even among themselves, proving once again that they have opinions only, not morals. Opinions are a dime a dozen. In fact, there's an old vulgarism about opinions that states that "opinions are like _ssholes, we all have them and they all stink."

They'll say that something is wrong because it hurts other people. The weakness with that argument is that they often can't even agree among themselves what hurt is, plus, they deny (or don't care) that the situation may cause much good for others. Even if it does cause hurt, why would someone who believes that man is inherently good believe that the robber's or rapist's "needs" don't matter. Obviously THEY didn't see anything wrong with what they did. Once again, we have conflicting opinions!

The only way to have a moral decision is, firstly, it must come from an unbiased source. Anyone who either benefits or suffers from a situation CANNOT make an unbiased decision. Secondly, it needs to come from a higher source than man, or it remains JUST AN OPINION. Only the One who created those on both, or every, side of an issue has the moral high ground to decide right and wrong - Almighty GOD! Conservatives generally acknowledge this fact, liberals do not. For proof, look only at the 2012 Democratic Convention when booing began EVERY time that God was mentioned.

In essence, liberals are in rebellion against God, Therefore, they have no position from which to make ANY moral decision. © 2016

Sunday, July 24, 2016

I Splurged (w/pic)

Click image to enlarge.

In this photo, you’ll see my latest acquisitions. Fiskars used to be a good brand, but I got these in Chinamart, so naturally they were made in China. The bow saw is a 21 inch and the folder is what I’d call 6-1/2 inch (of teeth). I got tired of trying to make do with the soft metal of the bow saw blades carried by ACE Hardware, and my regular (antique) pruning saw is on my bench, disassembled, ready to be refurbished a bit. SO, since I have a little work I wish to do before dog days end, I decided to splurge a little. The saws ran about $10 each, and while the bow saw has hardened teeth, the folder should be sharpenable. I like having a folder that fits in my jeans pocket. I actually have another one, but it’s in my “emergency” box in my truck, and I didn’t want to have to dig it out every time I wanted one. Pretend you don’t see the cookie crumb. Sometimes the Mighty Dachshund gets a bit sloppy. © 2016

Friday, July 22, 2016

My Hell-Bound Irish Friend

I don’t even know how to get in touch with “Rick,” but he used to be a “work friend” back in my telemarketing days. I hadn’t seen him for several years, but I bumped into him at Chinamart the other day and we had a nice conversation. Rick was pretty popular with most of his coworkers. He certainly projected a recognizable image. He stood about six feet tall and had Guy Fieri hair long before anyone ever heard of Guy Fieri. He often wore a leather jacket, boots, and sun glasses. He had multiple tattoos and body piercings and sang with what I’m tempted to call a punk rock band, though I’m no expert on rock music classification.

Rick was born on the Emerald Isle, but his mother, soon moved to England. I believe he lived in both Birmingham and London, but mostly London. His mum wasn’t well off, so I think they lived in the poorer sections of town and Rick sort of grew up on the streets and reached his adulthood doing what most poor city kids do, drinking, partying, dancing, and probably fighting on occasion. Still, Rick was a jovial soul, so I suspect that he was as popular there as here. Somewhere along the way, he became an honest-to-gosh stone mason of the old school. That always sort of impressed me, since it’s a dying art over here. I think he moved here because he married an American girl. I’m not sure how he ended up in telemarketing, but his good manners, smooth voice and English accent served him well, especially with the ladies.

Rick had a tiny bit of burr up his backside about church, Christians and Christianity, though. He was polite, but firm; he wanted no part of any such thing. Usually, such folks have been badly mistreated by so-called Christians. In his case, I think it was actually his mother who suffered some sort of self-righteous abuse at their hands, so she avoided church from then on. In the process, she raised a son with no respect for anything Christian. He wasn’t out to change anyone else’s opinion; he just wanted no part of it himself.

It’s hard to get such folks to understand that many people who CALL themselves Christians actually are not, and that even sincere Christians are too often far from perfect. I tried on occasion to talk to him about the Lord, but to no avail. He was simply closed to the subject, though never rude. After out little visit was about over the other day, I asked if he’d ever given the Lord a chance to work in his life, but once again, I got the jovial brush-off. His little girl was with him, so I didn’t push the issue, but I told him that I was very happy to have seen him and that I’d be praying for him. That doesn’t seem to insult him, I’ve learned.

I really like Rick. I wish I knew that I would see him again in the next life, but unless he makes peace with Jesus and accepts Him as his savior, it’s not going to happen. Rick’s a good guy in the worldly sense, but that’s not enough. NONE of us are good enough to reach heaven without accepting the fact that we can’t do it on our own, and that only the blood of Jesus can wash us clean enough to enter. I hope my Christian friends will say a prayer for Rick. You don’t know him, but the Lord does. Thanks. © 2016