When they call the roll in the Senate, the Senators do not know whether to answer 'Present' or 'Not guilty.' Theodore Roosevelt
Lately the candidates have besieged my place of work. Being a large insurance company, one of the largest, it's like sugar to ants.
Recently the CEO and President of the company wre here to answer questions and soneone asked where we stood with the candidates. As I look back on their answer now no matter where we stand we stand with our hand out to whatever party is in control. Interestingly enough the CEO decided to explain his answer and he says that we, as a company that provides insurance along the lines as treating it as an investment, tend to lean towards the Democratic party. not because they're right, but because they want to protect the investments used by the super rich.
The super-rich.
Let me explain. An insurance policy povides money to the family of the decedent in order to help them with the costs associated with the passing of the insured. now let's say that the insured is super rich. Does this person really need life insurance?
Nope.
What they need is death insurance that protects the assets from being taken by the government by say a death tax. Yes they even tax you when you die. Anyway, well if you have enough insurance that covers your entire amassed wealth, then what you are doing is passing on your wealth directly to your family. In a way, life insurance has become a way to by pass the death tax. It protects your wealth.
Republicans, according to our CEO, want to abolish the death tax. If they do so, Life Insurance as the super rich know it will cease to exist. If there is no death tax, then why do they need life insurance to protect their wealth? Democrats on the other hand want to keep it.
Either way the common man loses. Those in office go there claiming such championing ideals that will make our life better. They, and I mean all of them, have yet to deliver.
How do you know when a politician is lying?
You see their lips moving...
Monday, October 30, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
Sunday, August 13, 2006
So there he is.
Cheshire cat, with a Joe Isuzu smile being loaded onto his face. He snaps his fingers and ends with the pistol fingers pointing at us.
Oh great, here he comes.
Before we go to far let me move back a bit and express some history. Back in the sixties there was this guy that if I have read correctly was an air traffic controller. I could be wrong. For all I know he had never even been near an airport but for all intents and purposes we'll say he was an Air Traffic Controller dude. But what he loved to do was write. His name, Gene Roddenberry. Now you say I know the name but not why, or hey what the hell maybe you don't even know the name.
Anyway, he wrote Star Trek.
Now way back then they did some things that were way ahead of their time. For example Star Trek is credited with the first inter-racial kiss on television. Way ahead of it’s time. Gene thought that people in the future wouldn’t worry about race. Another would be worrying about how to get a hold of their friends because everyone would have a personal communicator. They all had one and when they needed to talk to Mr. Scott, Sulu, or some guy in a red shirt all they had to do was reach behind their back, whip it out, and flip it open.
“Kirk to red shirt guy with no name, come in.”
So you fast forward to the Eighties (from the sixties, not the 23rd century. I work with a lot of people that were born in the glorious eighties. In the eighties the personal communicator, er, I mean cell phone appeared in everyday life. People like Gordon Gekko used them (see the old movie section down at Blockbuster and look for Wall Street) and other business types. They were big and blocky and when it stopped working you could use it as a five pound weight to work out with or self defense on a New York subway. Move to another decade and it wasn't just old Gordo using them. There were a few soccer moms and other Road Warriors that wanted a little added protection in case they got a flat and duh, didn't have a spare tire, or at least a spare with air (which is was my case once).
Anyway it was for emergencies only. These were the hero’s made popular on shows like Rescue 911 (interestingly enough again with Captain Kirk).
And now there’s today. Everyone has a cell phone. My niece who is 11 has a cell phone. Why? That brings us back to Joe Cheshire Cat Isuzu boy at the mall. He snaps his fingers and points pistol fingers at us as we try to get past those annoying kiosks that every mall now has in the middle to grab those not smart enough to jump into a store. They’re the Jehovah Witness Amway sales people of the Mall. .
"I can save you guys a ton of money."
Like he knows what a ton of money looks like. I fight to stop the natural reaction of my eyes rolling and punching him in his long slender weasel like nose. I succeed but that energy that was stored for rolling my eyes slips out as a laugh. The Missus though is tempted.
She loves cell phones.
She doesn’t buy into my cell phone conspiracy theory.
I know. All of you have cell phones as well. Maybe even two. What else are you going to do with that “special-buy-4-phones-and-get-the-special-rate-family-deal-while-supplies-last” even though you’re single and have no prospects, but bear with me while I throw out my ideas here. As I pull the missus away Joe winks and licks his lips.
For a split second I think I see the tip of his tongue has a split in it as do his serpent brethren.
"Good thing I'm here to save you." I say to the missus.
The missus, in her usual wifey way ignores me. Like I said, she doesn’t buy into the cell phone conspiracy. You see from Captain Kirk to, well Captain Kirk, our life really hasn't changed. Kids still go to school, Mom and Dad go to work, kids still play soccer, people still travel on the highways and by-ways, yet the phone companies want us, no need us to believe that because we all do these things, we need a cell phone. I know. I know there are a lot of arguments for it but I just haven't bought into it (nor have I bought a phone). So in my usual way I continue talking as if the missus is actually listening.
"The great cell phone conspiracy. How did we live before? Why should we have a phone at home, an answering machine at home, a cell phone on my hip, and voicemail on the same cell phone not to mention voicemail at work, or voicemail on my home phone in case I'm actually using that phone."
My mother bought a Yukon last year. It has a built in cell phone.
The missus doesn't say anything which means that she is fighting not to say something. She stops at some little store that has pictures of little dogs out front. She likes little dogs.
"I hope I'm never that important that I need to be reached at all hours of the day." I say.
She says nothing but I think in her mind she likely says you’re not and you won’t ever be.
You see when she had a cell phone before it never worked. Once the car broke down and the phone was dead. Not only did the car break down it broke down out in the middle of nowhere. Another time we had a flat, I changed said flat, and a mile down the road we had another. Two flats in a row. Do you realize the odds of this happening? We had a flat and then used the spare, so when we had a second flat we had nothing. Calling for help was out of the question because we were out of the service area. You see those commercials with all those little bars showing up everywhere?
Na-ah. Wasn’t happening.
There were other times. Like the time we were lost and we would dial the number we were given in case we got lost, which is an entirely different story and conspiracy theory, and the phone would ring once and then disconnect. It just didn't want to ever work.
Gordon Gekko's cell phone always worked.
The missus says nothing but has a slight smile which means that she wants to tell me I’m not that important. Underneath her clam façade, not to far down mind you, she wants to run back and see just how much Cheshire can save us (as opposed to what we're saving by not having one), then run to the next kiosk and buy three or four covers for the different season's, holidays, special occasions, an M-dog cover (what I call her little black Scottie dog), maybe even a patriotic cover that says “ I have weapons of mass destruction” on it. Then she would probably ask about a second one so she can call me from her phone when I'm at the pool either swimming or trying to read while not noticing the bikinis.
Hmmm.
Maybe that's why she would call…anyway I still fight and warn people of the conspiracy. I pull her away some more, urging her towards stretching more space between us and the well intentioned (because we know the road of good intentions leads to the cell phone kiosk) phone dude. Maybe one day I'll break down. Maybe one day I'll say okay fine and the missus will go and get one or two or there might be some special deal for three or four (One for me, the missus, the heir apparent, and the dog). Oy vey.
Until then I resist. I wonder what the Captain would say?
Maybe that, resistance is futile.
Cheshire cat, with a Joe Isuzu smile being loaded onto his face. He snaps his fingers and ends with the pistol fingers pointing at us.
Oh great, here he comes.
Before we go to far let me move back a bit and express some history. Back in the sixties there was this guy that if I have read correctly was an air traffic controller. I could be wrong. For all I know he had never even been near an airport but for all intents and purposes we'll say he was an Air Traffic Controller dude. But what he loved to do was write. His name, Gene Roddenberry. Now you say I know the name but not why, or hey what the hell maybe you don't even know the name.
Anyway, he wrote Star Trek.
Now way back then they did some things that were way ahead of their time. For example Star Trek is credited with the first inter-racial kiss on television. Way ahead of it’s time. Gene thought that people in the future wouldn’t worry about race. Another would be worrying about how to get a hold of their friends because everyone would have a personal communicator. They all had one and when they needed to talk to Mr. Scott, Sulu, or some guy in a red shirt all they had to do was reach behind their back, whip it out, and flip it open.
“Kirk to red shirt guy with no name, come in.”
So you fast forward to the Eighties (from the sixties, not the 23rd century. I work with a lot of people that were born in the glorious eighties. In the eighties the personal communicator, er, I mean cell phone appeared in everyday life. People like Gordon Gekko used them (see the old movie section down at Blockbuster and look for Wall Street) and other business types. They were big and blocky and when it stopped working you could use it as a five pound weight to work out with or self defense on a New York subway. Move to another decade and it wasn't just old Gordo using them. There were a few soccer moms and other Road Warriors that wanted a little added protection in case they got a flat and duh, didn't have a spare tire, or at least a spare with air (which is was my case once).
Anyway it was for emergencies only. These were the hero’s made popular on shows like Rescue 911 (interestingly enough again with Captain Kirk).
And now there’s today. Everyone has a cell phone. My niece who is 11 has a cell phone. Why? That brings us back to Joe Cheshire Cat Isuzu boy at the mall. He snaps his fingers and points pistol fingers at us as we try to get past those annoying kiosks that every mall now has in the middle to grab those not smart enough to jump into a store. They’re the Jehovah Witness Amway sales people of the Mall. .
"I can save you guys a ton of money."
Like he knows what a ton of money looks like. I fight to stop the natural reaction of my eyes rolling and punching him in his long slender weasel like nose. I succeed but that energy that was stored for rolling my eyes slips out as a laugh. The Missus though is tempted.
She loves cell phones.
She doesn’t buy into my cell phone conspiracy theory.
I know. All of you have cell phones as well. Maybe even two. What else are you going to do with that “special-buy-4-phones-and-get-the-special-rate-family-deal-while-supplies-last” even though you’re single and have no prospects, but bear with me while I throw out my ideas here. As I pull the missus away Joe winks and licks his lips.
For a split second I think I see the tip of his tongue has a split in it as do his serpent brethren.
"Good thing I'm here to save you." I say to the missus.
The missus, in her usual wifey way ignores me. Like I said, she doesn’t buy into the cell phone conspiracy. You see from Captain Kirk to, well Captain Kirk, our life really hasn't changed. Kids still go to school, Mom and Dad go to work, kids still play soccer, people still travel on the highways and by-ways, yet the phone companies want us, no need us to believe that because we all do these things, we need a cell phone. I know. I know there are a lot of arguments for it but I just haven't bought into it (nor have I bought a phone). So in my usual way I continue talking as if the missus is actually listening.
"The great cell phone conspiracy. How did we live before? Why should we have a phone at home, an answering machine at home, a cell phone on my hip, and voicemail on the same cell phone not to mention voicemail at work, or voicemail on my home phone in case I'm actually using that phone."
My mother bought a Yukon last year. It has a built in cell phone.
The missus doesn't say anything which means that she is fighting not to say something. She stops at some little store that has pictures of little dogs out front. She likes little dogs.
"I hope I'm never that important that I need to be reached at all hours of the day." I say.
She says nothing but I think in her mind she likely says you’re not and you won’t ever be.
You see when she had a cell phone before it never worked. Once the car broke down and the phone was dead. Not only did the car break down it broke down out in the middle of nowhere. Another time we had a flat, I changed said flat, and a mile down the road we had another. Two flats in a row. Do you realize the odds of this happening? We had a flat and then used the spare, so when we had a second flat we had nothing. Calling for help was out of the question because we were out of the service area. You see those commercials with all those little bars showing up everywhere?
Na-ah. Wasn’t happening.
There were other times. Like the time we were lost and we would dial the number we were given in case we got lost, which is an entirely different story and conspiracy theory, and the phone would ring once and then disconnect. It just didn't want to ever work.
Gordon Gekko's cell phone always worked.
The missus says nothing but has a slight smile which means that she wants to tell me I’m not that important. Underneath her clam façade, not to far down mind you, she wants to run back and see just how much Cheshire can save us (as opposed to what we're saving by not having one), then run to the next kiosk and buy three or four covers for the different season's, holidays, special occasions, an M-dog cover (what I call her little black Scottie dog), maybe even a patriotic cover that says “ I have weapons of mass destruction” on it. Then she would probably ask about a second one so she can call me from her phone when I'm at the pool either swimming or trying to read while not noticing the bikinis.
Hmmm.
Maybe that's why she would call…anyway I still fight and warn people of the conspiracy. I pull her away some more, urging her towards stretching more space between us and the well intentioned (because we know the road of good intentions leads to the cell phone kiosk) phone dude. Maybe one day I'll break down. Maybe one day I'll say okay fine and the missus will go and get one or two or there might be some special deal for three or four (One for me, the missus, the heir apparent, and the dog). Oy vey.
Until then I resist. I wonder what the Captain would say?
Maybe that, resistance is futile.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Hey coach, send me in!
So you wanna be a Bruin eh kid?
Can't ya just hear the lockers slamming, players talking, towels flying through the air that is filled with the smell of sweaty socks, unwashed cups, and a mix of Canadian beer and thick Boston Lager?
Matt Rogers from Manchestah New Hampsha wants to be a Bruin and who can blame him. He's joined the newest hiccup in the reality show craze called "Be a Bruin" which will air on New England's, NESN channel later this year in the Fall.
So...recently we're sitting around the table at lunch and Danny-boy's eyebrows shoot up.
He turns a picture in the paper towards me and says what do you see?
On closer inspection I say, Is that..?
Danny-boy cracks up. It sure looks like it.
Is that in today's paper?
Danny boy points out the date.
Are there any other copies? And the table took off looking for copies.
Why don't we take a closer look... The Coach is holding a red dry erase marker drawing out the teams plan of attack...and if you look closely, Matt has his tongue out eager to get into the game.
The original picture was in color and nearly full page. Of course we couldn't find it on the net...so here it is with some red highlights to point out their plan. Go back to the top and compare the two. The top picture has been altered in no way aside from it being in black and white instead of it's original color.
I dunno about you, but they didn't offer hockey at my high school.
Damn...
Monday, June 26, 2006
If you can't stand the heat.....
Another guilty pleasure these days....Hell's Kitchen. Hearing Chef Ramsey yell at someone "DONKEY!" and "MOPHEAD!" I thought was rather humorous. I have one of those twisted senses of humor where when things like that happen I start to laugh.
I would get kicked off just for that.
I'm certain of it.
So all I have to lose is what? A few laughs? A bit of learning some professional cooking techniques (that I'm sure would come in handy in this sleepy little new England town)? So off I go to Fox.com.
They say all you have to be is 21, of which I qualify, and that I am in the United States legally.
Luckily I am one of the other hispanics that come here and don't have to worry about 'them' building a wall to keep us (them) out, oh wait, the wall is to keep terrorists out, even though they came in through the other border...but that's another story.
Anyway, all that was left was an email over to fox with some basic information...
Names have been changed to protect the not so innocent...
My name is (Mr. Write)
I'm a California native that resides at
### My Street
Small New England Town
I can be reached by phone at:
(###) ###-#### Home
(###) ###-#### Work
Email Address: Right_here@blogger.com
I am a Male
I am a New Business Trainer for Lincoln Financial Group (Formerly Jefferson Pilot). I design and deliver training for experienced and new hire employees coming into the New Business Department whose primary business is personal wealth building insurance.
I would love to be on Hell's Kitchen so that I can learn not only about professional cooking, but working in a team environment under high pressure. Overcoming these obstacles and being able to deliver, not only to the public but also to Chef Ramsey, would be a great personal accomplishment.
Though I have not received any culinary training nor worked in a professional kitchen, it has always been an aspiration of mine. I have enjoyed being in the kitchen since I was a child learning traditional cooking from my Puerto Rican family. Today I still enjoy hosting dinner parties for friends and family. My place as host and cook, is to make sure that all that attend leave full, happy, and counting the days until the next one.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Mr. Write
I would get kicked off just for that.
I'm certain of it.
So all I have to lose is what? A few laughs? A bit of learning some professional cooking techniques (that I'm sure would come in handy in this sleepy little new England town)? So off I go to Fox.com.
They say all you have to be is 21, of which I qualify, and that I am in the United States legally.
Luckily I am one of the other hispanics that come here and don't have to worry about 'them' building a wall to keep us (them) out, oh wait, the wall is to keep terrorists out, even though they came in through the other border...but that's another story.
Anyway, all that was left was an email over to fox with some basic information...
Names have been changed to protect the not so innocent...
My name is (Mr. Write)
I'm a California native that resides at
### My Street
Small New England Town
I can be reached by phone at:
(###) ###-#### Home
(###) ###-#### Work
Email Address: Right_here@blogger.com
I am a Male
I am a New Business Trainer for Lincoln Financial Group (Formerly Jefferson Pilot). I design and deliver training for experienced and new hire employees coming into the New Business Department whose primary business is personal wealth building insurance.
I would love to be on Hell's Kitchen so that I can learn not only about professional cooking, but working in a team environment under high pressure. Overcoming these obstacles and being able to deliver, not only to the public but also to Chef Ramsey, would be a great personal accomplishment.
Though I have not received any culinary training nor worked in a professional kitchen, it has always been an aspiration of mine. I have enjoyed being in the kitchen since I was a child learning traditional cooking from my Puerto Rican family. Today I still enjoy hosting dinner parties for friends and family. My place as host and cook, is to make sure that all that attend leave full, happy, and counting the days until the next one.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Mr. Write
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
When in Rome?
Well it has been almost a month since I last rambled on for the world to see....
The heir apperant is coming home soon but that is only due to the fact of involving an attorney to force the hand of the Queen of Ice. She wanted to go to court about something that she should have called about.
Stupid.
I lost nothing. That's not true, I lost a lot of sleep, thoughts, time wasted in worry. I lost plenty. My worry traces back to having to go to court and been treated as if I wasted their time. Interetsingly the Queen of Ice filed her paperwork with the court in hopes of the court finding me in contempt.
And from my point of view, nothing could be more true. I hold the 'court' in the highest contempt. Here in New England, in what they jokingly call Family Court, they have instilled what is called a Marital Master. This is a court employee, and by this I say a government employee like a police officer, the cranky person at the DMV, and the guy that picks up the garbage on Fridays.
Don't be confused...a judge is also a government employee, but the difference is that the judge can make the decisions. He's not a proxy judge like the marital master is. The marital master sits, listens, takes a few notes, sounds like a judge and by that I mean says things like "Overruled", "Sustained", and "your witness", but when it comes down to it, this person is taking notes for another person to make the actual decision.
It's like sending someone to take notes on your college courses and then you showing up to take the test.
Why doesn't that sound like a good idea? Would it not work? So then, why would this be different?
I heard it many times before and I am sure you have too...we have the best system in the world. Our court system exceeds all others.
I thought so until I saw it in action. Maybe it ought to be considered inaction. It is the court that should be held in contempt.
Isn't this how Rome fell?
The heir apperant is coming home soon but that is only due to the fact of involving an attorney to force the hand of the Queen of Ice. She wanted to go to court about something that she should have called about.
Stupid.
I lost nothing. That's not true, I lost a lot of sleep, thoughts, time wasted in worry. I lost plenty. My worry traces back to having to go to court and been treated as if I wasted their time. Interetsingly the Queen of Ice filed her paperwork with the court in hopes of the court finding me in contempt.
And from my point of view, nothing could be more true. I hold the 'court' in the highest contempt. Here in New England, in what they jokingly call Family Court, they have instilled what is called a Marital Master. This is a court employee, and by this I say a government employee like a police officer, the cranky person at the DMV, and the guy that picks up the garbage on Fridays.
Don't be confused...a judge is also a government employee, but the difference is that the judge can make the decisions. He's not a proxy judge like the marital master is. The marital master sits, listens, takes a few notes, sounds like a judge and by that I mean says things like "Overruled", "Sustained", and "your witness", but when it comes down to it, this person is taking notes for another person to make the actual decision.
It's like sending someone to take notes on your college courses and then you showing up to take the test.
Why doesn't that sound like a good idea? Would it not work? So then, why would this be different?
I heard it many times before and I am sure you have too...we have the best system in the world. Our court system exceeds all others.
I thought so until I saw it in action. Maybe it ought to be considered inaction. It is the court that should be held in contempt.
Isn't this how Rome fell?
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Viet-xico
"Taking dinosaurs off this island is the worst idea in the long, sad history of bad ideas."
Dubya says it's time to send 6000 National Guard to provide logistical support in protecting the borders, excuse me, the U.S./Mexican border.
Mexico's President Vicente Fox's spokesman, Ruben Aguilar, said Tuesday that Mexico accepted Bush's statement that the Guard troops didn't imply a militarization of the area, and that Mexico remained "optimistic" that the U.S. Senate would approve an immigration reform "in the interests of both countries."
This makes me think of two things:
1) Isolationism which is what led the United States into the Great Wars, 2 and it's prequel, 1. An idea of protecting our own, taking care of our own country and ignoring the world.
2) Vietnam. Troops lending logistical support only. They're advisors. They won't take any action.
You know a lot of people yell and scream about things that Dubya says and does. They point and shout, "what an idiot!" and start practicing their chants for whoever they want to support in the next election.
Interestingly people are listening to this idea of sending troops to the US/Mexico border and nodding. They agree with this.
Sending Troops to the (US/Mexico) border is the worst idea in the long, sad history of bad ideas. One day I think we'll look back at this decision as something that led to a bigger problem that is as of yet on our horizon.
Dr. Ian Malcom.
Dubya says it's time to send 6000 National Guard to provide logistical support in protecting the borders, excuse me, the U.S./Mexican border.
Mexico's President Vicente Fox's spokesman, Ruben Aguilar, said Tuesday that Mexico accepted Bush's statement that the Guard troops didn't imply a militarization of the area, and that Mexico remained "optimistic" that the U.S. Senate would approve an immigration reform "in the interests of both countries."
This makes me think of two things:
1) Isolationism which is what led the United States into the Great Wars, 2 and it's prequel, 1. An idea of protecting our own, taking care of our own country and ignoring the world.
2) Vietnam. Troops lending logistical support only. They're advisors. They won't take any action.
You know a lot of people yell and scream about things that Dubya says and does. They point and shout, "what an idiot!" and start practicing their chants for whoever they want to support in the next election.
Interestingly people are listening to this idea of sending troops to the US/Mexico border and nodding. They agree with this.
Sending Troops to the (US/Mexico) border is the worst idea in the long, sad history of bad ideas. One day I think we'll look back at this decision as something that led to a bigger problem that is as of yet on our horizon.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
You Might Be a Redneck...
Jeff Foxworthy has made a bundle off of this statement.
It began for him as a line he used as he took his stand up routine around the country and discovered that there were Rednecks just about everywhere he went...not just in the south as is commonly believed.
We've heard them all. You might be a Redneck if..
It began for him as a line he used as he took his stand up routine around the country and discovered that there were Rednecks just about everywhere he went...not just in the south as is commonly believed.
We've heard them all. You might be a Redneck if..
- You've gone to a family reunion to meet women...
- You've drank beer at a job interview....
- You helped your rich family move and it included knocking the wheels off their new place...
- You mowed your lawn and found a car...
People laugh and on he goes. Once Mr. Foxworthy said that he decided he was going to see if he could make a list of 100 of these. He said that when he would tell the jokes, people, well let's call them folks, folks from around the country was laughing and nodding to at least half of these.
There are Rednecks everywhere.
But there is more than one type.
Earlier today The Missus and I were watching The Chronichles of Narnia. The Heir Apperant got it in his Easter basket ( and by the way it is a DVD that does have all of the bonus footage unlike some DVD's we got, see Dee-Vee-Dee post from April) and after the movie was over we watched a bunch of the deleted, bonus, blooper footage.
But there's only so much you can watch so The Missus turned off the DVD player and searched around for something to watch. When she stopped, it was on CMT.
Country Music Television.
I looked at her and she avoided my look. On the screen was Larry The Cable Guy's stand up in Michigan (I think). He's another kind of Redneck. On the one side you have Jeff in his button up shirt, sometimes a Polo shirt, clean jeans, talking family, men and women differences, and Redneck jokes, and then you have Larry with, well if you've seen him you know. Rednecks both but still different.
Let's take a moment and get a visual so we're all on the same page.
Okay, so we clear now? Two kinds of Rednecks. So Larry goes on and on and does his Grandma thing and his deaf cousin thing, and the immigrant's need to learn english (hopefully not from a Redneck) especially when they're working in a drive-through. Anyway the show ends and I look at the Missus and she makes no move to change the channel, and also by the way has placed the remote on the couch next to her which is on the opposite side of where I am. So I turn my attention back to the TV which is still on CMT.
Country Music Television.
And it comes on.
Country Fried Home Videos.
That deserves to be repeated for all you might have missed it.
Country Fried Home Videos.
It's on CMT. Country Music Television.
Their favorite cut-to clip plays when they come back from commercial, between other videos, and well, just because..is of a couple of semi-toothless, plaid wearin, mullet sportin' good ole boys laughin and trying to get a congratulatory high-five...but to me it looks like they miss, despite being shoulder to shoulder.
Now don't get confused and start thinking that this is just another version of America's Funniest Videos, 'cuz it ain't.
How can I say that?
Pray let me give to you the highlights...
- Mud bog belly-flops: The bigger the belly, the bigger the flop. That goes without saying. But to add in the right amount of Redneck? Plumbers crack...and plenty of it.
- Shotgun bowling: Y'alls sit y'self at a picnic table, take aim (like this is really needed with a shotgun) and fire. Across the grassy lane are your pins. One scene did show a woman missed...so much for not needing to aim. In another scene the camera angle was from behind the pins. Yes, behind the pins...
- A turkey on a snowboard: Ok, ok, that is close to an AFV episode but only the ones that had Bob Saget on as the host and we all know how bad those sucked, canned laughter and all.
- Bull poker: There's no bluffing in this poker game no matter who has the best poker face. To set this game up you need 1) four volunteers (preferrably tanked from Coors filled plastic cups. 2) plastic furniture, why would you need plastic furniture? because a more than angry, pissed off thousand pound walking plate of steak and burgers is about to mow it down. 3) the afore mentioned bull. 4) Good insurance, a good lawyer (isn't that a dead one?), and a signed waiver. The game now starts (I have no idea what the winning prize is but it may be something like a new mounted deer head for the living room) with guy number one taunting the bull. Yes he's trash talking a large angry animal that is digging away and lowering it's horns. He then bangs on the table and as if all this was not enough...he scoops dirt and throws it at the animal. Mind you, our other three volunteers are at the table as well but sitting quietly. See the game is actually a game of Chicken. Who can sit at the table the longest...so back to our rocket scientist contestant number one. The bull has had enough of his bullshit, pardon the pun, and charges, knocking player number one into next week, completly avoiding the table, and proceeds to chase contestant number 1 around and out of the arena. Next scene? The bull returns to his previous spot and shotgun bowls the other three contestants onto their asses all at once. The bull wins.
- And I cannot keep going on but must mention this...Bobbing for Trout: Imagine if you will a large glass fish tank. Once upon a time I had a 75 gallon tank that was about 5 1/2 feet long or so. This one was close. Player after player dunk and chase live trout, yes live trout around the tank snapping thier teeth until they run out of air. Reuters recently reported that a restaurant in Italy was fined for having live lobsters on ice...they claimed it was cruel...what would they do with this? Finally (this just ain't right) one of our rednecks gets one. Live. And he stands proudly displaying his trout and then struts around with his arms in the air. The fish wiggles, caught in the toothy vice of our mullet sporting good ole boy.
I generally like my fish cooked. Hell, I like sushi. But this is a little much. Trust me folks I can't make this stuff up! Try this if you dare.
http://www.cmt.com/shows/dyn/country_fried_home_videos/series.jhtml
And then my wicked muse sat down....
What if this was at least in part, a solution to the immigration problem?
Immigrants are coming here to get some work. Some pickup drivin' rebel flag waving, good ole boys have complained that they come and steal all the work (never mind the redneck olympics explained above). But you don't see immigrants in videos doing this crazy belly-flop, bull poker, turkey playing kind of stuff. So why not a sort of trade...remember the trade guns for food stamps, trade guns for food, trade guns for free tickets to the Oprah show...
We trade one Redneck for one immigrant.
Don't shake your head. It could work. Immigrants don't have to sneak around. Rednecks can well, keep doing what rednecks do and now don't have to say that their jobs are being taken.
Additionally we make the immigrants promise to never sport a mullet, make them always brush their teeth, not marry their cousins, or find a car in the front yard if they mow the lawn...
It's just a thought folks....just a thought...
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Get To The Point
Thursday is Toastmasters and I have really tried to be more active in it. So far I have, since retruning to it signed up for something each week. This coiming week I am giving a speech. I always write out the speech with the good intentions of sticking to what I write but I always stray from it.
With this one I hope not to but I know how I am. Here though is what I hope to stick to...
It was a while back at the beginning of a meeting that during the pledge it really seemed that our voices were low, quiet, there was no excitement in what we were saying. It was from that meeting where I chose this topic.
But in order to explore it correctly you have to know where it has been. The same is true when it comes to the direction of a group, a country, and the pledge is no exception.
So first we’re going to talk about where it came from, and in doing that we’ll be able to determine where it is today, and in doing that we’ll be able to determine what our responsibility with it will be in the future.
I.
The Pledge of Allegiance was written for the 400th celebration of Columbus Day in 1892 and later was published in the Readers Digest of it’s time called “The Youth’s Companion.” But to understand what was going on you have to realize what was happening in the minds of people of that time; We were only 30 years, not even a full generation past the Civil War. It was a new America that was stronger than before because we had finally come together, indivisible, and people from around the world were coming to the Land of Opportunity. In fact in 1891 nearly half a million immigrants had entered the United States through the Battery Park offices in NY (It was that same year, 1892, that Ellis Island was opened). A month after it appeared in the Youth’s companion nearly 12 million children around the country were saying the pledge every morning in classrooms.
It read:
I Pledge allegiance to my flag, and to the republic for which it stands: One Nation, Indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for All.
In 1923 our growing nation, again in a post-war era, with millions of immigrants coming every year caused concern in the wording of the Pledge, enough to have it changed to:
I Pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States…
And again in 1924 the word America as added making that line, “ I Pledge Allegiance to the flag, of the United States of America…
It became “popular” during the onset of WW2 and in 1945 was given the official title of The Pledge of Allegiance. The last change was in 1954, Flag Day which is June 14. The last change was adding “Under God”
II.
So what is the Pledge about today? The easiest way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, the easiest way to find out what the Pledge is today is the Same.
I (me)
Pledge (a binding promise or agreement)
Allegiance (a devotion or loyalty)
To the flag (a symbol or representation of our country)
Of the United States of America (which is more than the expanse of land that spreads from the Atlantic to the Pacific, more than the expanse from the Mexican border to the Canadian, More than the Alaskan wilderness, more than the isles of Hawaii. It’s an ideal that freedom is a responsibility, not a right)
And to the Republic ( Interesting word republic. Webster says it means: a government in which supreme power resides in a body of citizens entitled to vote and is exercised by elected officers and representatives responsible to them and governing according to law)
For which it stands (referring to the body of citizens it represents)
One Nation under God (what can be said here that those words don’t already say?)
Indivisible (proven 30 years before it’s creation that this nation, though we can have differences of opinion, we cannot be divided even amongst ourselves).
With Liberty (of all the definitions I liked, the power of choice)
And Justice for All (the principle or ideal of just dealing or right action- For All)
III.
What do we do now?
Bellamy knew what he was doing when the Pledge was put together in August of 1892. He said that when choosing the words that August he thought:
It began as an intensive communing with salient points of our national history, from the Declaration of Independence onwards; with the makings of the Constitution...with the meaning of the Civil War; with the aspiration of the people...
Furthermore look at another document that Bellamy refers to:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness
How does this all tie into the Pledge? Where it ties in is with you. The people that say it. The Parents whose children say it. They, whoever they are, say that statistically the pledge could change in the next few years and when and if, that time comes, it’s going to be up to us, you and I to decide what of our national history is important enough to keep, what of our national history is important enough to protect.
Look over the words and decide for yourself what does it mean to you. But to know is only half the battle.
Knowledge without action is useless.
Acting on this knowledge makes you responsible for what goes on in your home, on your street, in your neighborhood, your community, your town, city, your county, state and country.
It’s your Pledge. It’s your country.
With this one I hope not to but I know how I am. Here though is what I hope to stick to...
It was a while back at the beginning of a meeting that during the pledge it really seemed that our voices were low, quiet, there was no excitement in what we were saying. It was from that meeting where I chose this topic.
But in order to explore it correctly you have to know where it has been. The same is true when it comes to the direction of a group, a country, and the pledge is no exception.
So first we’re going to talk about where it came from, and in doing that we’ll be able to determine where it is today, and in doing that we’ll be able to determine what our responsibility with it will be in the future.
I.
The Pledge of Allegiance was written for the 400th celebration of Columbus Day in 1892 and later was published in the Readers Digest of it’s time called “The Youth’s Companion.” But to understand what was going on you have to realize what was happening in the minds of people of that time; We were only 30 years, not even a full generation past the Civil War. It was a new America that was stronger than before because we had finally come together, indivisible, and people from around the world were coming to the Land of Opportunity. In fact in 1891 nearly half a million immigrants had entered the United States through the Battery Park offices in NY (It was that same year, 1892, that Ellis Island was opened). A month after it appeared in the Youth’s companion nearly 12 million children around the country were saying the pledge every morning in classrooms.
It read:
I Pledge allegiance to my flag, and to the republic for which it stands: One Nation, Indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for All.
In 1923 our growing nation, again in a post-war era, with millions of immigrants coming every year caused concern in the wording of the Pledge, enough to have it changed to:
I Pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States…
And again in 1924 the word America as added making that line, “ I Pledge Allegiance to the flag, of the United States of America…
It became “popular” during the onset of WW2 and in 1945 was given the official title of The Pledge of Allegiance. The last change was in 1954, Flag Day which is June 14. The last change was adding “Under God”
II.
So what is the Pledge about today? The easiest way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, the easiest way to find out what the Pledge is today is the Same.
I (me)
Pledge (a binding promise or agreement)
Allegiance (a devotion or loyalty)
To the flag (a symbol or representation of our country)
Of the United States of America (which is more than the expanse of land that spreads from the Atlantic to the Pacific, more than the expanse from the Mexican border to the Canadian, More than the Alaskan wilderness, more than the isles of Hawaii. It’s an ideal that freedom is a responsibility, not a right)
And to the Republic ( Interesting word republic. Webster says it means: a government in which supreme power resides in a body of citizens entitled to vote and is exercised by elected officers and representatives responsible to them and governing according to law)
For which it stands (referring to the body of citizens it represents)
One Nation under God (what can be said here that those words don’t already say?)
Indivisible (proven 30 years before it’s creation that this nation, though we can have differences of opinion, we cannot be divided even amongst ourselves).
With Liberty (of all the definitions I liked, the power of choice)
And Justice for All (the principle or ideal of just dealing or right action- For All)
III.
What do we do now?
Bellamy knew what he was doing when the Pledge was put together in August of 1892. He said that when choosing the words that August he thought:
It began as an intensive communing with salient points of our national history, from the Declaration of Independence onwards; with the makings of the Constitution...with the meaning of the Civil War; with the aspiration of the people...
Furthermore look at another document that Bellamy refers to:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness
How does this all tie into the Pledge? Where it ties in is with you. The people that say it. The Parents whose children say it. They, whoever they are, say that statistically the pledge could change in the next few years and when and if, that time comes, it’s going to be up to us, you and I to decide what of our national history is important enough to keep, what of our national history is important enough to protect.
Look over the words and decide for yourself what does it mean to you. But to know is only half the battle.
Knowledge without action is useless.
Acting on this knowledge makes you responsible for what goes on in your home, on your street, in your neighborhood, your community, your town, city, your county, state and country.
It’s your Pledge. It’s your country.
Monday, April 24, 2006
I saw this today and loved it..
BERLIN (Reuters) - A 53-year-old German woman who was driving her dead mother across country to save on mortuary transportation costs was fined by police for disturbing a dead person's peace.
**Is this an admission by the German police that there is life after death? If there is no life how can one be disturbed?**
BERLIN (Reuters) - A 53-year-old German woman who was driving her dead mother across country to save on mortuary transportation costs was fined by police for disturbing a dead person's peace.
**Is this an admission by the German police that there is life after death? If there is no life how can one be disturbed?**
"You're not allowed to transport dead people in your private car," said Ralf Schomisch, police spokesman in Koblenz, where the car was found after a tip-off from a mortuary.
"The corpse was on the back seat without a seat belt, ** this is the best line ever ** which in this case didn't really matter.
But it was covered up with clothing. It is a misdemeanor." ** Now the American public truly needs some clarification here...what's a misdemeanor? 1) Carrying the dead woman in the car? 2) Having her in the backseat (with no seatbelt) or 3) having her covered with clothes?
He said the woman, who was not identified, was charged with violating burial laws ** maybe her expiration date was coming?** and disturbing a dead person's peace. She would face a modest fine, Schomisch said.
The woman had already driven 450 km (280 miles) after picking up the body from a mortuary in the northern city of Bremerhaven. She wanted to bury her mother, who died of natural causes aged 90, in her hometown Daun.
© Reuters 2006. All Rights Reserved.
Type in black is not part of the original article and was brought to you by Mr. Write, The color Black, and the number 90.
Still have 40 or so emails but I came across this and thought I'd throw it on out...
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: It never occurred to you to beoffended by the phrase, "One nation under God."
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You've never protested about seeing the 10 Commandments posted in public places.
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You still say "Christmas" instead of"Winter Festival."
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You bow your head when someone prays.
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You stand and place your hand overyour heart when they play the National Anthem or say the pledge ofallegiance to our flag.
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You treat Viet Nam vets with great respect, and always have.
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You've never burned an American flag.
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You believe in the US Constitution as it was written.
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You know what you believe and you aren't afraid to say so, no matter who is listening.
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You respect your elders and expectyour kids to do the same.
You might be a TRUE AMERICAN if: You'd give your last dollar to afriend.
You Have (E) Mail...
So it's been a while...
My little man, the heir apparent, was home from potato-land for a week and when he's here we seem to be inseperable from having our butt's handed to us on X-Box live.
We, he, I, play as RLZofEngagement. Come kill us when you get a chance.
Anyway, I had/have full intention of getting some writing done here and my process is:
My little man, the heir apparent, was home from potato-land for a week and when he's here we seem to be inseperable from having our butt's handed to us on X-Box live.
We, he, I, play as RLZofEngagement. Come kill us when you get a chance.
Anyway, I had/have full intention of getting some writing done here and my process is:
- I go to WHEB.com and get some music going (currently playing some old style Van Halen, ya the old stuff with David Lee...
- I go and check my Comcast email, answer a couple, delete a couple, and then on to Blogger I go..
But today I got to my step two and found 104 emails. So far two from Mamasita out in Cali...the rest is a bunch of el-junkamundo.
What a bunch of crap.
And so I sat here trying to figure out where they all came from.
And then I recalled a little something, something. The other day, before the heir apparent came home I sent The Missus an e-card to her work from my work, but to spare myself the extra emails at work I put on my Comcast email address as the sender...
and they sold my email address...
You Bastards!
Bad part is that if I want the emails to stop I can't just delete them I have to actually open each and every email and search for the link that asks me to click here and send them an email saying please don't send me any more email-ads.
And isn't that what they want? For me to open their email and see what "Joe Bob Re: The information you asked for..." email says?
Aggravation.
Not quite the same kind of aggravation I felt after watching Rottweiler on Sci-Fi this weekend. That movie sucked royal butt.
I may be back to share some thoughts after I delete 90 some-odd emails...
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Saint Jimmy
Just a few things...
Tonight the Missus has American idol on. It's Queen night and a few things will happen:
1) Most will butcher songs done by the best rock band in history making Freddy turn in his grave...
2) Randy will not like most singers and then when one comes along that he likes he will say "We got another hot one in da house!" and wave his fist in
the air.
3) Paula will say, "You know i'm one of your best fans, I didn't really like the song, but that being said..."
Anyway...
Met my new boss today. She drove from one end of New England 3 1/2 hours to the other end of New England. Luckily for her it is a business trip and she probably will get reimbursed for the gas it took to come on up.
Good thing considering the gouge is on.
Now of course GMA today had some interviews about this and the gas companies press folk come running up and say the same thing; It's the demand; It's reflective of events that happened three months ago; It's the war; It's this; It's that.
It's armed robbery sans the arms.
GMA went on to say that 70% of people out there say this is a hardship. The other 30% will call it a severe hardship.
So what's going on?
The Spring Equinox happened.
What does that have to do with it? Traditionally more people travel during this time of the year. The crumb-grinders and yard-apes will be done with school soon ( I know it's still April ) it's nice outside and spring fever spreads like wildfire through the endless eons of cubicles.
We want out.
And so we pay.
But then there's Saint Jimmy (a la Green day). What has Saint Jimmy done?
Saint Jimmy has just beat them at their own game. You know those emails that every single year come out and say it's don't buy gas day? They're purely a waste of the elcectricity used to power the computer. Even if everyone you knew didn't buy gas on that day it would only amount to a minor hiccup. And if it amounted to anything more they would get back the cost by raising the price a few more cents the next time you went back.
But what Saint Jimmy did....
A model I see online, A 2006 Honda Metropolitan runs around 1849.00.
Payments run anywhere from 39.00/Mo to I think something like 199.00 depending on when you want to pay it off.
And La piece de resistance?
A gas tank that even with these inflamatory prices takes less than three dollars to fill and gets roughly, according to Saint Jimmy, 90 miles to the gallon.
Hmmm...
You go to Bermuda and you see these things all over the place. It's not uncommon to see them lining the streets 50 of them in a row. Safety? It's only the tourists on these islands that get into accidents and that is because they forget which side of the road they're supposed to be on. But nothing is stopping you from buying a helmet and a leather jacket.
Sure, let's stay on the Bermuda example, gas is 5.00 a gallon (actually they're on the metric system so they fill 'er up in liters) but if it lasts you a couple of weeks or more what's the problem? How far do we really work from home anyway?
I'm not saying that we should get rid of all of our cars, after all you would need one to get groceries or drive around all of those kids you can't afford to and from soccer etc, plus in New England winters are, well lets just say they SUCK royally, so you need to hang onto that one. And in the meantime save yourself beacoup bucks (so you too can afford to go to Bermuda) and La piece de resistance....
Sock it to the gas companies...
Send this around in one of those emails....
Oh and Ace Young, go and pack your bags.
Tonight the Missus has American idol on. It's Queen night and a few things will happen:
1) Most will butcher songs done by the best rock band in history making Freddy turn in his grave...
2) Randy will not like most singers and then when one comes along that he likes he will say "We got another hot one in da house!" and wave his fist in
the air.
3) Paula will say, "You know i'm one of your best fans, I didn't really like the song, but that being said..."
Anyway...
Met my new boss today. She drove from one end of New England 3 1/2 hours to the other end of New England. Luckily for her it is a business trip and she probably will get reimbursed for the gas it took to come on up.
Good thing considering the gouge is on.
Now of course GMA today had some interviews about this and the gas companies press folk come running up and say the same thing; It's the demand; It's reflective of events that happened three months ago; It's the war; It's this; It's that.
It's armed robbery sans the arms.
GMA went on to say that 70% of people out there say this is a hardship. The other 30% will call it a severe hardship.
So what's going on?
The Spring Equinox happened.
What does that have to do with it? Traditionally more people travel during this time of the year. The crumb-grinders and yard-apes will be done with school soon ( I know it's still April ) it's nice outside and spring fever spreads like wildfire through the endless eons of cubicles.
We want out.
And so we pay.
But then there's Saint Jimmy (a la Green day). What has Saint Jimmy done?
Saint Jimmy has just beat them at their own game. You know those emails that every single year come out and say it's don't buy gas day? They're purely a waste of the elcectricity used to power the computer. Even if everyone you knew didn't buy gas on that day it would only amount to a minor hiccup. And if it amounted to anything more they would get back the cost by raising the price a few more cents the next time you went back.
But what Saint Jimmy did....
A model I see online, A 2006 Honda Metropolitan runs around 1849.00.
Payments run anywhere from 39.00/Mo to I think something like 199.00 depending on when you want to pay it off.
And La piece de resistance?
A gas tank that even with these inflamatory prices takes less than three dollars to fill and gets roughly, according to Saint Jimmy, 90 miles to the gallon.
Hmmm...
You go to Bermuda and you see these things all over the place. It's not uncommon to see them lining the streets 50 of them in a row. Safety? It's only the tourists on these islands that get into accidents and that is because they forget which side of the road they're supposed to be on. But nothing is stopping you from buying a helmet and a leather jacket.
Sure, let's stay on the Bermuda example, gas is 5.00 a gallon (actually they're on the metric system so they fill 'er up in liters) but if it lasts you a couple of weeks or more what's the problem? How far do we really work from home anyway?
I'm not saying that we should get rid of all of our cars, after all you would need one to get groceries or drive around all of those kids you can't afford to and from soccer etc, plus in New England winters are, well lets just say they SUCK royally, so you need to hang onto that one. And in the meantime save yourself beacoup bucks (so you too can afford to go to Bermuda) and La piece de resistance....
Sock it to the gas companies...
Send this around in one of those emails....
Oh and Ace Young, go and pack your bags.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
My Wiki-how-to
They were rather quick
I personalized my Google page the other day. What this allowed me to do was to add news that I want to see (I generally don't do more than read the headlines since most news is depressing and I try to control my attitude). Well one of the things I added was the Wiki-How to pages. There's been some interesting ones on there like, How to win a sword fight. Next time those Ninja's come at from the dark alley I will be ready...
Anyway...
I decided to do my very own.Now what does the world truly need to know? What would be useful? How to make enchiladas? Useful yes but I'm sure rachel Ray already has an explanation out there though I doubt that she can do it in 30 minutes...
And then my muse came and sat down with a devilish wink in her eye...
How to teach white people to all clap at once.
Well I got an email, after throwing it out there, saying that some people might see some of the wording to be racist. Actually, that some, would only be white people.
Luckily I copied it for myself before they made the changes.
How to "Teach White People to Clap All at Once"
Description: Caucasians have a tendency to be rhythmically challenged. See them try to clap at churches, concerts, stadiums, plays, comedy shows and other places where they go and try to show their appreciation through appluase. Now you too can help your poor rhythmically challenged neighbors. Using the counting method! Begin by finding someone in the audience that can clap. This may be a non-caucasian usually unless they have read this How-To and are now out in the world passing on this valuable knowledge.
Steps
1) Define the rhythem (cadence) of the applause around you. A good way to determine this is to find a person with rhythem, usually a non-caucasian, and use the counting method. To use the counting method count out numbers each time the clappers hands connect. WATCH THE CLAPPER CLOSELY. If you are not able to locate a non-caucasian clapper do not take charge and try this on your own especially in a televised audience! the camera's will find you and you will be nationally humiated. (See Tips)
2) Start off slow. Continue to watch the clapper closely. Most clapping injuries happen when caucasians just aren't ready to take the plunge so soon. Now that you have determined the clapping cadence try one or two. With a few successes you'll gain the necessary confidence needed for full blown clapping.
3) Now you've got some confidence under your belt so to say. It's now time to stop watching your clapper-mentor.
4) Make sure the audience around you is still clapping. (See Tips)
5) Concentrate. Remember dad always said Keep your eye on the ball so watch your hands.
6) Using the same counted out cadence, bring your hands together with each number counted.
7) Listen carefully. As those around you start to slow down that will be your cue that you can stop. Advanced clapping will cover speeding-up, slowing-down, clapping while standing, clapping to a different drummer, and for the truly advanced caucasian, clapping while dancing.
Tips
1) When in an audience before a show, meeting, etc., locate that helpful clapper mentor ahead of time. Obviously they won't be walking around clapping but don't be afraid to stick your hand out and say, "Hey, can you clap well?"
2) If you cannot locate a clapper nearby try nodding and smiling. It works when you don't understand non-caucasians that are speaking to you doesn't it?
3) Make sure that once you have gained some confidence that those around you are still clapping. There's nothing worse than starting your clapping and finding that everyone else is done or nearly done with theirs. It's like the guy that laughs at the joke after everyone else got it and has stopped laughing. It just ain't funny "no-mo".
4) Do not attempt to find a Clapper-Mentor more than a couple of rows over. Stretching to keep your eyes on the clapper can lead to serious injuries. Binoculars are a No-no. You'll see what I mean if you try to clap and hold your binoc's at the same time.
Warnings
See Tips!
Do not try advanced clapping "moves" until ready
Ok, so back to the email. I was warned that things like that can be the cause for permanent blockage (this sounds serious!) of all future articles. So one of the guys out there went ahead and "edited" my how-to. Mr. Write is used to being edited. I am married after all, but even more so, I write procedures and New Business Communications (these are emails sent out to the New Business staff at work) and before I send the final draft I often get edited from the review group which is comprised of doughnut eaters, er, managers (just kidding). Anyway here is a link to the final How to. Read it and decide for yourself which version you like best!
http://wiki.ehow.com/Teach-People-to-Clap-All-at-Once
Vote for Pedro!
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
The Pirate says...
So the missus was watching, by it's Latin name, The Boobidus toobidus, americanus idotboxicus. Okay, TV. She was watching BONES. One of the newer shows on Fox. Tonight they were talkling about Pirates. Arrrrgh. Who doesn't like pirates?
We went to Bermuda this past fall, which even though everyone (but me) was afraid of hurricanes was the best time of the year to go. September is still hot there like August in my homeland (California). Anyway there were lots of pirates around Bermuda way back when. Lootin', pillagin', an' shiverin their timbers...whatever that means.
But asides from parrot's, peg legs, eye-patches and a bit of Coke to go with a bit of the ole Captain (The Captain says, drink responsibly...Captain's Orders!) what else do we know them for? No not treasure...Johnny Depp? Oh please! Try again, the plank? Ok fine i'll get on with it.
Arrrgh.
Everytime they said pirate on BONES, I said Arrrgh.
Remember that Tootsie roll pop commercial from years gone by....how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie roll pop? How many Arrrgh's does it take to get the missus to scream "STOP IT!"
Mr. Owl?
One....
Two...
Th-"STOP IT!" Three. Yes Three....
Monday, April 03, 2006
Dee-Vee-Dee!
Remember when DVD's had bonus features....?
So the other day the Missus goes to the store and shops for a few necessities. When she returns she has brought home King Kong; The DVD. Now remember when the cool thing about getting DVD's was when you were done watching them they always had those cool additional things on the disk; Alternate endings, deleted scenes, Outtakes, bonus footage, Upcoming movies. You name it they had it. And of you didn't want to watch it well guess what? You didn't have to fast forward through it, you just didn't watch it. Cool huh?
So what goes?
Let's back up before we go forward. A few weeks ago the missus goes to the store and shops for a few necessities. Sound familiar? Well when she returned she brought home the newest Harry Potter DVD. What was this one, number 4? Something like that. Anyway it came as a two pack. She openned up the package and the "other" disk says something about game etc. Scene-it I think it was....so we watched the DVD and at the end we begin the search.
For what you ask?
Well I'm glad that you asked. Bonus stuff. Extra features. So we searched and searched and there was nothing. Oh, maybe it's on the second disk. I thought the same thing. So we change the disks and hit Menu and what did you think was there? This monologue on how to play Scene-it that went on for quite a while. Now I have nothing against the game. I've never played it. But what i'm getting at here is that DVD's have changed. It was the cool thing that made them different from a VCR tape. Remember those? Fast forward, Please be kind: Rewind, boring features with Mr Voice narrating what movies were coming out (that you were still going to wait until it came out to see). Gone.
Okay, but it was just the Harry potter movie.
Or was it?
So, fast forward, the Missus comes home with King Kong. All three hours of it. So ya it finishes around 1 a.m. and I stop the credits by hitting the menu button. Menu comes on and what's there? Commercials. No special features what so ever. Nope, nuttin, zero, zip zilch. You get the idea.
So what's the deal? Is it just freaking Wal-Mart that sells these bonus-less movies with no extra's? Where's the motivation to go and buy these DVD's? If all I wanted to see was the movie itself ( and don't forget this one came with commercials) I could wait a year and then watch it on TNT or Spike (Spike has better commercials). Does Wal-Mart have these DVD's made to keep them cheap so all the camouflage sweatpant wearing attention all wal-mart shoppers we're having a sale on toothpaste, oh wait, pass on that, shoppers can have as big a collection of DVD's as they have of Nascar Tee's?
C'mon people.
All I'm saying is that if I go to buy a DVD I want to see some bonus features in there. I want to see the deleted scene with that guy that really should have been bitten in half by the monster, and was, but the ratings folks said "you're pushing it if you leave it in there..." I want to see the extended muppet scene, ya you know which one i'm talking about. I want to see that stupid Coming Soon feature of She's the Man (don't get me started down that road...). Whatever they are I want my bonus features just like I wanted my MTV.
Remember when MTV actually played music....?
So the other day the Missus goes to the store and shops for a few necessities. When she returns she has brought home King Kong; The DVD. Now remember when the cool thing about getting DVD's was when you were done watching them they always had those cool additional things on the disk; Alternate endings, deleted scenes, Outtakes, bonus footage, Upcoming movies. You name it they had it. And of you didn't want to watch it well guess what? You didn't have to fast forward through it, you just didn't watch it. Cool huh?
So what goes?
Let's back up before we go forward. A few weeks ago the missus goes to the store and shops for a few necessities. Sound familiar? Well when she returned she brought home the newest Harry Potter DVD. What was this one, number 4? Something like that. Anyway it came as a two pack. She openned up the package and the "other" disk says something about game etc. Scene-it I think it was....so we watched the DVD and at the end we begin the search.
For what you ask?
Well I'm glad that you asked. Bonus stuff. Extra features. So we searched and searched and there was nothing. Oh, maybe it's on the second disk. I thought the same thing. So we change the disks and hit Menu and what did you think was there? This monologue on how to play Scene-it that went on for quite a while. Now I have nothing against the game. I've never played it. But what i'm getting at here is that DVD's have changed. It was the cool thing that made them different from a VCR tape. Remember those? Fast forward, Please be kind: Rewind, boring features with Mr Voice narrating what movies were coming out (that you were still going to wait until it came out to see). Gone.
Okay, but it was just the Harry potter movie.
Or was it?
So, fast forward, the Missus comes home with King Kong. All three hours of it. So ya it finishes around 1 a.m. and I stop the credits by hitting the menu button. Menu comes on and what's there? Commercials. No special features what so ever. Nope, nuttin, zero, zip zilch. You get the idea.
So what's the deal? Is it just freaking Wal-Mart that sells these bonus-less movies with no extra's? Where's the motivation to go and buy these DVD's? If all I wanted to see was the movie itself ( and don't forget this one came with commercials) I could wait a year and then watch it on TNT or Spike (Spike has better commercials). Does Wal-Mart have these DVD's made to keep them cheap so all the camouflage sweatpant wearing attention all wal-mart shoppers we're having a sale on toothpaste, oh wait, pass on that, shoppers can have as big a collection of DVD's as they have of Nascar Tee's?
C'mon people.
All I'm saying is that if I go to buy a DVD I want to see some bonus features in there. I want to see the deleted scene with that guy that really should have been bitten in half by the monster, and was, but the ratings folks said "you're pushing it if you leave it in there..." I want to see the extended muppet scene, ya you know which one i'm talking about. I want to see that stupid Coming Soon feature of She's the Man (don't get me started down that road...). Whatever they are I want my bonus features just like I wanted my MTV.
Remember when MTV actually played music....?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Y'see those reports of the people in the streets of Paris getting sprayed with hoses? Now of course they're saying that those people are protesting job laws...but let's stop and consider what we know about the French; 1) They have some of the best laws protecting workers in the world, 2) They stink, ok , ok that's rumored but stay with me.
Now you see a bunch of people out there that allegedly stink, and you see a bunch of hoses...pass the soap sils vous plait?
Now you see a bunch of people out there that allegedly stink, and you see a bunch of hoses...pass the soap sils vous plait?
Monday, March 27, 2006
Two for the road...
Hey nice pic there Chief...
Okay, so I have read and found there's a couple of different camps. First there are writers that go and make out an outline, they have their charachters, and they stick to what is on their outline. Then there's the other guys. The rebels. They sit and they watch that cursor flash until their Muse shows up and says "Ok boy's let's see what she's got in her pants."
I'm such a rebel...
Let's see where the boys have got to.
As we neared The Edge, Chester Elementry came into view. It's four brick buildings spread amongst a wide expanse of white concrete all surrounding a flag pole that with it being summer waved no banner. We crossed the empty street and I looked out beyond the playground, and the expanse of fields behind the school that reached out to The Edge and beyond. The heat rays coming off the ground made what I did see look like a mirage. It had to be.
"You see that?" Jo-Jo whispered?
I snapped out of the mirage induced trance and looked at Jo-Jo who stood still beside me still straddling my bike. Neither of us had realized that we had stopped. From this distance it looked to be one large white tent. Not the kind of tent one associated with circuses that flew the brightly colored banners of Barnum and Bailey but more the kind you saw in those civil-war westerns with cigar-smoking charachters of men with no names. Trucks and maybe what looked to be wagons were at one end and animals, maybe horses or other large pack type animals that you would see on their way to gold country along the Oregon trail.
Jo-Jo and I were speechless. I have no idea how long we sat there staring into the heat induced rays. Looking back on it I wonder if we were being called.
"So we gonna go check it out already?" It wasn't Jo-Jo's voice. It was Troye's.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.
"Watch your mouth." She reprimanded sounding evermore like my mother.
She took a defiant step ahead of us towards the magical field which was cut short as i spun her back towards me. "I said, what the hell are you doing here?"
She looked down at my tightening grip on her arm. "Want to make sure I don't get away?"
Jo-Jo laughed and I had to give him another look. Sometimes he forgot who's side he was on.
I let Troye go. 'Well?" I tried to sound unfazed.
"Mom said i needed to stay out of the way and thought the best way was to go with you."
"No." I said
"So what's that."
"No." I repeated. Why did I always have to repeat myself?
"Gypsy tent city." Jo-Jo said
"Am I talking to myself?' I said with my hands outstetched
"Only if you're staying here." Troye squared herself towards me.
Jo-Jo at times like this, and yes there were quite a few, had the ability to become invisible. Not bad for a fat kid.
Troye arched one eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Well?"
Okay, so I have read and found there's a couple of different camps. First there are writers that go and make out an outline, they have their charachters, and they stick to what is on their outline. Then there's the other guys. The rebels. They sit and they watch that cursor flash until their Muse shows up and says "Ok boy's let's see what she's got in her pants."
I'm such a rebel...
Let's see where the boys have got to.
As we neared The Edge, Chester Elementry came into view. It's four brick buildings spread amongst a wide expanse of white concrete all surrounding a flag pole that with it being summer waved no banner. We crossed the empty street and I looked out beyond the playground, and the expanse of fields behind the school that reached out to The Edge and beyond. The heat rays coming off the ground made what I did see look like a mirage. It had to be.
"You see that?" Jo-Jo whispered?
I snapped out of the mirage induced trance and looked at Jo-Jo who stood still beside me still straddling my bike. Neither of us had realized that we had stopped. From this distance it looked to be one large white tent. Not the kind of tent one associated with circuses that flew the brightly colored banners of Barnum and Bailey but more the kind you saw in those civil-war westerns with cigar-smoking charachters of men with no names. Trucks and maybe what looked to be wagons were at one end and animals, maybe horses or other large pack type animals that you would see on their way to gold country along the Oregon trail.
Jo-Jo and I were speechless. I have no idea how long we sat there staring into the heat induced rays. Looking back on it I wonder if we were being called.
"So we gonna go check it out already?" It wasn't Jo-Jo's voice. It was Troye's.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.
"Watch your mouth." She reprimanded sounding evermore like my mother.
She took a defiant step ahead of us towards the magical field which was cut short as i spun her back towards me. "I said, what the hell are you doing here?"
She looked down at my tightening grip on her arm. "Want to make sure I don't get away?"
Jo-Jo laughed and I had to give him another look. Sometimes he forgot who's side he was on.
I let Troye go. 'Well?" I tried to sound unfazed.
"Mom said i needed to stay out of the way and thought the best way was to go with you."
"No." I said
"So what's that."
"No." I repeated. Why did I always have to repeat myself?
"Gypsy tent city." Jo-Jo said
"Am I talking to myself?' I said with my hands outstetched
"Only if you're staying here." Troye squared herself towards me.
Jo-Jo at times like this, and yes there were quite a few, had the ability to become invisible. Not bad for a fat kid.
Troye arched one eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Well?"
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Day one: Clearing away the cobwebs
It's really not Day one.
Day one was started and since this is all new to me, was deleted amongst much frustration, while trying to ABC-Spell check it.
Oy.
So this is what i recall...and let me be brief.
This, this place I come to is to clear away the cobwebs in my head. Think of it like clearing off your desk as you prepare to write checks on bill paying night, or to write letters ( this gives away that I grew up in a time where people actually wrote letters instead of sending emails) or clip coupons. Maybe cobwebs isn't really an appropriate idea to expalin what's happening so let me try like this.
Stories are like children.
They all need attention. Some actually demand it. They all have their space within the room that is inside my head all awaiting their own chance to come forward and take center stage.
So while others wait their turn...
Jo-Jo Potato was your average run of the mill fat kid. So many of the stories of my ill-spent youthful summers were in that New Hampshire town where I met Jo-Jo. He had that, and probably still does, everyday blah colorless feature that now as I finally put it into type I'm not altogether sure if it's the colorless images of my fading memory or was he and everything else back then colored patina brown. He had that sandy-brown hair that would fly every which way when the wind blew but always laid back into it's original position the second the wind died down that I hated him for. Okay, maybe I didn't hate him for it but I would truly get pissed at him or maybe it was both of my parents for having thick wavy hair that went everywhere if anything more than a light breeze blew. It didn't matter how long the wind had blown, my hair would remain sticking up. It was a cruel joke but always before leaving the house my mother would always make sure that I had a black plastic comb which could do nothing to my hair unless it was soaking wet and pasted to my head. Anyway, I don't ever remember Jo-Jo wearing red, blue, green, orange, yellow or even black. It was always brown. Yes at times his shirts were striped or solid, tee's or button-up's, had pockets or no pockets, tucked (but mostly un-tucked), but the one thing they always were was some sort of brown that matched his hair. Pants whether long in the non-summer days, short in the summers which revealed tan oversizied socks that always bunched around his ankles and brown lace-up dress shoes. His face was round as were his nickel sized eyes that to me were brown but he always said that he had hazel colored eyes like his grandmother with whom he lived with.
We, by which I mean my family, which consisted of my older twin brother and sister Samantha and Sampson (or just Sam and Sam) my little sister Troye, Mom and Dad, and our stupid Dog Moe moved to this little no-name-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere town during the summer of 1975. It was like anytown USA with a four-block downtown Main St with a soda shop, a restaurant or two which changed as the years passed, a drugstore, an aging cineplex with a halflit marquee, mercantile (whatever that meant) post office, and full service gas stations at each end of Main Street that competed for the non-existant passing through tourists. Every Monday and Thursday old man Mortensen would stand at the edge of the sidewalk with his army-issue binoculars to see what The Jenkins Family Motor Through set their gas prices at so he could sell his by five cents cheaper. Once the Jenkins' found out they turned their sign 90 degrees so it faced Main St. and this upset Old Man Mortensen to no end. It was rumored that he stormed into the Mayor's office, unnannounced, saying that a sign that was not 90 degrees to the street was bad for the town because drivers would be looking at the sign as they passed instead of in front of them as safe-normal American drivers ougt to be. jenkins' sign remained as it was until the mid 80's when sky-signs became unfavorable with town ordinances and both signs were brought down. As for the rest of the town it had it's fair share of drama amongst it's twenty or so nearly perfect square blocks that had it's neighborhoods that as the towns children we called, The Good Side-of-town, The-Wrong-Side-Of-The-Tracks, Battlefield Creek, Dragon-Smoke-Stacks, Parkside, Richville and around it all was The Edge.
Like I said it was summer time and to a kid in summer with two-and-a-half-months until school there's nothing important in life as much as your friends that you'll be spending the summer with getting in and out of trouble. But for those of you with short attention spans or if you have not been paying attention, let me remind you this was a new town for us so as of yet I had no friends to get out of trouble with. Notice I put only half of the summer activity there. I had no freinds to get out of trouble with. What this means, and i'm sure you can think of it on your own if you took a moment, is that to get into trouble it does not take more than one twelve year old with an over-active imagination, but that to get out of trouble it can be helpful when needing a quick excuse to have back-up. It's good to have a partner like in Adam-12. Yes, I know I had siblings. Three in fact. Thanks for the reminder. Sam, my brother, and Sam, my sister, were now responsible young adults or so my mother said and didn't have time to be playing around doing nothing all the live long day and come to think of it I should consider helping out around the house more since I too was getting older. I left the house before she assigned me an un-wanted task that I am sure was going to include keeping Troye out from underfoot.
I left our two story white salt box house with green shutters on my Orange Thunderbird bicycle. It had long plastic strands that came out of the handlebars that made me think of flames. They should have called this bicycle The Pheonix instead. I had never seen nor did I think there had ever been Orange Thunder. Anyway I don't remember if it was that day or the next when I met Jo-Jo. I just know that in the scheme of my memories that there are memeories without Jo-Jo and then suddenly there are memories with him. In this one Jo-Jo appeared as we entered town from the North. Not being a Monday or Thursday Old Man Mortensen was not at his vigil point facing south and the Jenkins Family Motor Through. Jo-Jo had once had a bicycle he told me. But that was way before we moved into town. "It was a black dirt-bike that we got at a yard sale but I left it out in the rain and forgot it for the winter outside so I couldn't get to it 'till mud-season so it got rusted out." Jo-Jo was a little absent-minded at times. For those of you that don't know mud season count yourself lucky. It's the fifth season here in New England. Once all the snow melts plus some additional rain, the locals have to go from rock to rock or chance getting stuck in the mud. Literally.
Town wasn't very busy. It was still before midday so the lunch force wasn't out yet and the store deliveriey trucks had been done for a few hours already. A couple of cars including the Trooper at the Doughnut franchise, a car getting gas, a grandma pushing a baby in a carraige, a couple window shopping and Jo-Jo and I. Not much going on in this town.
"Hear about the Gypsies?" Jo-Jo asked
I straddled my bike beside jo-Jo as we made our way towards the center of town.
"Nope." I said bored.
"They came into town day before yesterday and set up a buncha tents out past Battlefield Creek."
"What?" I had though Jo-Jo was going to tell me one of his lame not very funny jokes like What do you call a gypsy when he's had to much to drink? A tipsy-gypsy. See what I mean?
"Gypsies." Jo-Jo wiped off his sweaty forehead. "Mom called it a tent-town. They rolled into town and set up a fair or something. Mom says we can't go a'cause they try and rip us off or something and she don't make no money fer crap like that."
"Where?"
"Where what?"
I had to stop and give Jo-Jo a look.
"Oh the gypsies?"
I just stared.
"Like I said out past Battlefield Creek."
"What and where is that?"
The answer he gave carried us through the rest of town and then back to the center of town where we turned east onto Webster Lane. But the short of it was that Battlefield creek was where the Great Dirt-clod wars had been fought a couple of summers before against a rival town. Officially this was an event that never happened despite all the town boys and a few of the girls had been questioned in a special session that had been held in the school auditorium. According to the town this was an off limits area for children. A developer had come in and bought a few acres and then his wife and some guy ran off with most of the money. There were large pits that were supposed to become basements, hills created by bull-dozers, trenches like they had in real wars and a few crumbling concrete foundations. In other words a kids ultimate playground. But out beyond that was The Edge where some summers fairs would set up with real elephants, tigers, and bears. Oh My.
"Can we stop?"
"Why?"
"It's wicked hot."
To this day I don't understand the use of Wicked. "You want to ride instead?"
"For the rest of the way?" Jo-Jo was a good negotiator.
"Sure." Anything to keep moving towards something to do in this town.
Little did I know what was waiting...
Day one was started and since this is all new to me, was deleted amongst much frustration, while trying to ABC-Spell check it.
Oy.
So this is what i recall...and let me be brief.
This, this place I come to is to clear away the cobwebs in my head. Think of it like clearing off your desk as you prepare to write checks on bill paying night, or to write letters ( this gives away that I grew up in a time where people actually wrote letters instead of sending emails) or clip coupons. Maybe cobwebs isn't really an appropriate idea to expalin what's happening so let me try like this.
Stories are like children.
They all need attention. Some actually demand it. They all have their space within the room that is inside my head all awaiting their own chance to come forward and take center stage.
So while others wait their turn...
Jo-Jo Potato was your average run of the mill fat kid. So many of the stories of my ill-spent youthful summers were in that New Hampshire town where I met Jo-Jo. He had that, and probably still does, everyday blah colorless feature that now as I finally put it into type I'm not altogether sure if it's the colorless images of my fading memory or was he and everything else back then colored patina brown. He had that sandy-brown hair that would fly every which way when the wind blew but always laid back into it's original position the second the wind died down that I hated him for. Okay, maybe I didn't hate him for it but I would truly get pissed at him or maybe it was both of my parents for having thick wavy hair that went everywhere if anything more than a light breeze blew. It didn't matter how long the wind had blown, my hair would remain sticking up. It was a cruel joke but always before leaving the house my mother would always make sure that I had a black plastic comb which could do nothing to my hair unless it was soaking wet and pasted to my head. Anyway, I don't ever remember Jo-Jo wearing red, blue, green, orange, yellow or even black. It was always brown. Yes at times his shirts were striped or solid, tee's or button-up's, had pockets or no pockets, tucked (but mostly un-tucked), but the one thing they always were was some sort of brown that matched his hair. Pants whether long in the non-summer days, short in the summers which revealed tan oversizied socks that always bunched around his ankles and brown lace-up dress shoes. His face was round as were his nickel sized eyes that to me were brown but he always said that he had hazel colored eyes like his grandmother with whom he lived with.
We, by which I mean my family, which consisted of my older twin brother and sister Samantha and Sampson (or just Sam and Sam) my little sister Troye, Mom and Dad, and our stupid Dog Moe moved to this little no-name-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere town during the summer of 1975. It was like anytown USA with a four-block downtown Main St with a soda shop, a restaurant or two which changed as the years passed, a drugstore, an aging cineplex with a halflit marquee, mercantile (whatever that meant) post office, and full service gas stations at each end of Main Street that competed for the non-existant passing through tourists. Every Monday and Thursday old man Mortensen would stand at the edge of the sidewalk with his army-issue binoculars to see what The Jenkins Family Motor Through set their gas prices at so he could sell his by five cents cheaper. Once the Jenkins' found out they turned their sign 90 degrees so it faced Main St. and this upset Old Man Mortensen to no end. It was rumored that he stormed into the Mayor's office, unnannounced, saying that a sign that was not 90 degrees to the street was bad for the town because drivers would be looking at the sign as they passed instead of in front of them as safe-normal American drivers ougt to be. jenkins' sign remained as it was until the mid 80's when sky-signs became unfavorable with town ordinances and both signs were brought down. As for the rest of the town it had it's fair share of drama amongst it's twenty or so nearly perfect square blocks that had it's neighborhoods that as the towns children we called, The Good Side-of-town, The-Wrong-Side-Of-The-Tracks, Battlefield Creek, Dragon-Smoke-Stacks, Parkside, Richville and around it all was The Edge.
Like I said it was summer time and to a kid in summer with two-and-a-half-months until school there's nothing important in life as much as your friends that you'll be spending the summer with getting in and out of trouble. But for those of you with short attention spans or if you have not been paying attention, let me remind you this was a new town for us so as of yet I had no friends to get out of trouble with. Notice I put only half of the summer activity there. I had no freinds to get out of trouble with. What this means, and i'm sure you can think of it on your own if you took a moment, is that to get into trouble it does not take more than one twelve year old with an over-active imagination, but that to get out of trouble it can be helpful when needing a quick excuse to have back-up. It's good to have a partner like in Adam-12. Yes, I know I had siblings. Three in fact. Thanks for the reminder. Sam, my brother, and Sam, my sister, were now responsible young adults or so my mother said and didn't have time to be playing around doing nothing all the live long day and come to think of it I should consider helping out around the house more since I too was getting older. I left the house before she assigned me an un-wanted task that I am sure was going to include keeping Troye out from underfoot.
I left our two story white salt box house with green shutters on my Orange Thunderbird bicycle. It had long plastic strands that came out of the handlebars that made me think of flames. They should have called this bicycle The Pheonix instead. I had never seen nor did I think there had ever been Orange Thunder. Anyway I don't remember if it was that day or the next when I met Jo-Jo. I just know that in the scheme of my memories that there are memeories without Jo-Jo and then suddenly there are memories with him. In this one Jo-Jo appeared as we entered town from the North. Not being a Monday or Thursday Old Man Mortensen was not at his vigil point facing south and the Jenkins Family Motor Through. Jo-Jo had once had a bicycle he told me. But that was way before we moved into town. "It was a black dirt-bike that we got at a yard sale but I left it out in the rain and forgot it for the winter outside so I couldn't get to it 'till mud-season so it got rusted out." Jo-Jo was a little absent-minded at times. For those of you that don't know mud season count yourself lucky. It's the fifth season here in New England. Once all the snow melts plus some additional rain, the locals have to go from rock to rock or chance getting stuck in the mud. Literally.
Town wasn't very busy. It was still before midday so the lunch force wasn't out yet and the store deliveriey trucks had been done for a few hours already. A couple of cars including the Trooper at the Doughnut franchise, a car getting gas, a grandma pushing a baby in a carraige, a couple window shopping and Jo-Jo and I. Not much going on in this town.
"Hear about the Gypsies?" Jo-Jo asked
I straddled my bike beside jo-Jo as we made our way towards the center of town.
"Nope." I said bored.
"They came into town day before yesterday and set up a buncha tents out past Battlefield Creek."
"What?" I had though Jo-Jo was going to tell me one of his lame not very funny jokes like What do you call a gypsy when he's had to much to drink? A tipsy-gypsy. See what I mean?
"Gypsies." Jo-Jo wiped off his sweaty forehead. "Mom called it a tent-town. They rolled into town and set up a fair or something. Mom says we can't go a'cause they try and rip us off or something and she don't make no money fer crap like that."
"Where?"
"Where what?"
I had to stop and give Jo-Jo a look.
"Oh the gypsies?"
I just stared.
"Like I said out past Battlefield Creek."
"What and where is that?"
The answer he gave carried us through the rest of town and then back to the center of town where we turned east onto Webster Lane. But the short of it was that Battlefield creek was where the Great Dirt-clod wars had been fought a couple of summers before against a rival town. Officially this was an event that never happened despite all the town boys and a few of the girls had been questioned in a special session that had been held in the school auditorium. According to the town this was an off limits area for children. A developer had come in and bought a few acres and then his wife and some guy ran off with most of the money. There were large pits that were supposed to become basements, hills created by bull-dozers, trenches like they had in real wars and a few crumbling concrete foundations. In other words a kids ultimate playground. But out beyond that was The Edge where some summers fairs would set up with real elephants, tigers, and bears. Oh My.
"Can we stop?"
"Why?"
"It's wicked hot."
To this day I don't understand the use of Wicked. "You want to ride instead?"
"For the rest of the way?" Jo-Jo was a good negotiator.
"Sure." Anything to keep moving towards something to do in this town.
Little did I know what was waiting...
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