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 |  My second blog. What you get are pieces of me; my humor, my memories: be welcome. |
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MY BOOK! http://www.lulu.com/davidmac73 This picture was in the header of my first blog and I wanted to bring it back. Me and my sweetie on our wedding day....it is my favorite picture. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This is my second Blog on WDC. The first Blog, Random Thoughts, is finished and done and I loved almost every minute I spent doing it. This blog will be somewhat different than the first because I want to use this space for my humor and my memories. The humor may sometimes fall flat and the memories may, at times be boring, but isn't that the way it is with life. Please join me here and partake in these pieces of me and if sometimes you find the jokes unfunny or the memories dull, then please come back another day and maybe you will find something to your liking. After all, like my daddy always said: "Some days you get the bear, some days the bear gets you." Thank you, vivacious   for this neat new logo for my blog! Yup, this about says it all, I think!** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I thought that Independence Day was the appropriate day to put this great new siggy in my blog....Thank you sultry ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please check out Scarlett's Newsletter for Bloggers: The Blogville News
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Thank you, Startiara  for this lovely Siggy!! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Ever since I started blogging one question has nagged at me; What makes a person read a certain blog and comment? In my time here at Blogville I have witnessed some really well written, informative, funny blogs that have gone almost completely ignored by the reading membership. At the same time I have seen blogs that were, well....less well written, shall we say, garner a multitude of comments on each entry. It is strange indeed when blogs written on a site dedicated to WRITERS, do not necessarily have to be well written to gain an audience. I have always hated to see talented writers go unnoticed and undiscovered. A long time back, this is what drove me to start a newsletter for Bloggers. I wanted to highlight bloggers who may have gone undiscovered and were struggling along with no apparent readership. I still do this today. I surf along the Blog page and try to read blogs I have never read before in an effort to find new writers in need of readers. But all of this does not answer the question: What makes readers read and comment? Well I have discovered that the more a blogger reads and comments to other blogs, the more those people will return the favor and visit his/her own blog. Of course it helps if you have something of interest for people to read and that you present it in such a manner as to entertain and inform that reader....otherwise they won't be back. My own silly little blog averages about ten to one, views to comments. Sometimes, if the subject is controversial enough, the ratio of views to comments are closer together, but as a rule mine usually stands at about 10/1. I also think that subject matter has a great deal to do with gaining readers. I have found that if you vary your subject matter it helps. No one wants to read the same thing all the time and besides, it's kind of fun when you open a blog and never know what you are going to find. There are many things that might help you gain views and comments. Answering each comment that is left in your blog, leaving comments to people in your own comment space, both these things can sometimes generate more interest. The main thing is though, you must have a subject of interest and present it in such a way as to make people want to read it: Talent, in other words. Now....speaking of talent....In my wanderings around Blogville, I have found another new blogger who is in need of more readers (I told you...it's what I do) Now if you like comedy and you don't mind spitting various beverages all over your keyboard, then this is the guy for you. Oh, and if you are one of those Politically Correct, stick-in-the-mud folks who have no sense of humor....don't bother. RufusTFirefly and his blog: "Invalid Item"  Will make you laugh so hard you will pee your pants. So grab a pair of Depends and go read this guy and leave him a comment.Oh and after you finish that...go have a great day, will you. I also want to thank all of you who made it this far down in this entry. This has to be the most disjointed, weakly written, and confused entry I have ever done...and for me, that say's a lot cause I get disjointed at the drop of a hat. I think I will go back to bed...CHECK OUT RUFUS THOUGH!! |
| Oh lord I love the spring time in Missouri! What I have discovered, here in my adoptive home is that when the snow finally melts, and the glaciers recede to some point closer to Canada, a curious thing happens......TITTIES ON PARADE! Yup, when the weather finally warms up, the women around here go absolutely crazy. They all are struck with the overpowering urge to wear as little as possible from the waist up, God love em! My store becomes a Mammary gland wonderland. Every day now they parade through the front door of my store, proudly showing off what the good lord has given them. Big ones, small ones, and every size in between bounce into the store. I swear it just makes a man feel downright sorry for every bottle-fed baby in the world! The thing that really strikes me as different about this place though is the attitude of these ladies. They KNOW men are looking at them and instead of acting all offended and stuff, they smile from ear to ear....they are proud of the fact that they can turn heads. I like that in a woman! Now before all you wimmen start growling at me, just STOP IT! You can not wear a two-inch square of thin cloth across your chest and not expect men to look, we are hot-wired to look. When this takes place in my store I guarantee you that 99% of the men....customers and employees....are looking. The other 1% are shopping with their wives. I freely admit that I am not one of the modern metro-males that seems to be popular in these politically correct days. I am a throw-back to a simpler times. If I see something beautiful...I look, damn it! And that's the thing....the women around here are use to that type of old fashioned, country boy reaction from men and they really enjoy getting the reaction from us. My ole daddy use to say that he hoped that he would live to be ninety and be shot by a jealous husband. Well he didn't quite make it that far, and he died at sixty-six, in a hospital bed....but right up until the last couple of days he still had the strength to wink at the cute nurses, quite a few of which winked back. Looking back on it, I liked the old man's style. So, yeah.....I have finally found something about Missouri that I can admire. I can't wait for Summer now. Mel may have to buy a bigger Whooping Stick. Speaking of Mel, I may have to get her to tell you about our trip to Panama City, Florida which happened to take place during Spring Break.....now that was funny. |
| I will never forget the day, over four years ago, when I first stumbled into WDC. It was actually someone at work who first suggested that I check out the site, she had been a member for quite sometime and thought I might like it. That first night, when I entered the place, I can still remember the feelings that ran through me. As I checked out different pages and clicked on a few options offered, I found my heart beating just a little quicker, my pulse rate speeding up with excitement. "There be writers here"! I was feeling something akin to a reverence, like one walking into some ancient, medieval, Cathedral....I was in the presence of writers. There can be no better feeling for someone who loves to write than this and I was ready to jump in and become a member. In the beginning I had the little tiny name and the grey case. Then, after putting my first story in my brand new port, and sending in my fifty bucks, I was overjoyed to see my name suddenly turn BIG and my case go to black. I was IN! I was a member and an equal to all those thousands of writers who also walked the hallowed halls of WDC. Yup, me and over 500 thousand other WRITERS were members of WDC....heady stuff, that. Being a newbie, I came with certain preconceptions, chief among them was believing that the color of a case bespoke the talent of the writer. I don't know why but I just took it for granted that the higher a member was ranked, the better writing you would find in their port. So of course I began to seek out yellow and blue cases and even red so I could see what the really powerful, talented writers were writing. That was my very first indication that I may have been a bit hasty in my summation about case color and talent. Now don't get me wrong, I found a lot of blue and yellow cases that were great writers, but I also ran into a lot of garbage. I found blue cases that couldn't write their way out of a paper bag with a pencil in both hands, the same with some yellow cases. Over the past four years I find that nothing has changed with this phenomenon except my level of surprise. Maybe I have become a little jaded or cynical, but now it no longer shocks me. For four years I have found black cases who have been here for years and never got a change in color in spite of the fact that they are superb writers, their ports full of stories all good enough to be published. Why is that? Maybe it is because WDC is first and foremost....a business. It is a business founded by a couple of very bright young people who saw a business opportunity that could make money. In short, it is no different than Wal-Mart or J.C. Penny, or any other retail store in America. Now I could be wrong, I have never done any deep research on the matter, but if I did I think I would find that the more a person pays for a membership and the more they spend buying GPs, the quicker they advance in case color and the higher they go. Money talks....it always has. How else can one explain the fact that there are black cases here who have been members longer than me, whose writing far out does anything I have ever scribbled, yet my case is yellow and theirs is still black. If I ever had any doubts that WDC was merely a business like all those in the real world, they were dispelled when I got an email not long ago from the SM urging me to spend some of my economic stimulus check buying GP's. Just like all those real-world retail stores WDC seems to be scrambling for a piece of that pie. I think the best any of us can do is accept the fact that WDC is merely a business venture, then seek out the talented writers on the site no matter what color the case is, and build a circle of talent to interact with in order to make yourself a better writer and get published. That is the goal of writers isn't it.....publish. In the meantime, take the color of those cute little cases you see after the member's name with a grain of salt and ignore the number of "merit" badges they have accumulated. Judge everyone here by the words they write and get what you need from the talent you find. |
| LOL....I had this great big, rambling blog entry about seventy-five percent finished. It was a political entry and dealt with the ongoing race for the office of President of the United States. Then, almost three-quarters of the way done with it, I suddenly realized something: My thoughts on the subject don't mean sh*t! Why? Because no matter what I believe, I know in my heart what is going to happen. The Democrats will win the White House; we will have not only a democrat, but a Liberal democrat for president. The cry for "Change" will be followed by the people like sheep follow a bucket of grain. It will happen. So why on earth should I argue? Who the hell cares? After all, I have read blogs whose writers have said our country has had enough of people who talk in simple, country words....they equate speech patterns with ignorance. So be it. I am just another one of those simple, stupid, country boys the likes of which has led this country almost to destruction....in your liberal mind. So I won't do anymore political stuff here. Besides, the prevailing mind-set of the Liberals now is that anyone who opposes Obama is a racist. I have two nephews and a niece who have fathers who are black, I love those kids and would hate to have them think their favorite great uncle was a racist because he didn't want Mr. Obama for president. So let's make a deal...I won't delve into politics and you come see me in four years and let's compare notes...see where we are then. Deal? |
Sometimes the truth can be downright painful, as this little cautionary tale points out  LIE DETECTOR! John was a salesman's delight when it came to any kind of unusual gimmick. His wife Marsha had long ago given up trying to get him to change. One day John came home with another one of his unusual purchases. It was a robot that John claimed was actually a lie detector. It was about 5:30 that afternoon when Tommy, their 11 year old son, returned home from school. Tommy was over 2 hours late. 'Where have you been? Why are you over 2 hours late getting home?' asked John. 'Several of us went to the library to work on an extra credit project,' said Tommy. The robot then walked around the table and slapped Tommy, knocking him completely out of his chair. 'Son,' said John, 'this robot is a lie detector, now tell us where you really were after school.' 'We went to Bobby's house and watched a movie.' said Tommy. 'What did you watch?' asked Marsha. 'The Ten Commandments.' answered Tommy. The robot went around to Tommy and once again slapped him, knocking him off his chair once more. With his lip quivering, Tommy got up, sat down and said, 'I am sorry I lied. We really watched a tape called Sex Queen.' 'I am ashamed of you son,' said John 'When I was your age, I never lied to my parents.' The robot then walked around to John and delivered a whack that nearly knocked him out of his chair. Marsha doubled over in laughter, almost in tears and said, 'Boy, did you ever ask for that one! You can't be too mad with Tommy. After all, he is your son!' With that the robot immediately walked around to Marsha and knocked her out of her chair. Hope everyone got a smile from my little joke this morning. |
| I present for you today for your consideration, a mystery, a conundrum, a riddle of giant proportions. Last week Mel, who is always walking with her head down (she wrote about this in her last blog entry) and she discovered something that still has me scratching my head. It was a check....a cancelled check....dated March 14, 1968!!! She brought it in the house and showed it to me and I was dumbfounded. The check was in great shape, though you could tell it had been folded many times, as if crammed in some one's pocket. Now we have had rain off and on for three weeks now, but this check was dry as a bone...not even damp, as if it had just that moment been dropped to the ground. The check was what use to be called; A Counter Check. For those of you old enough to remember such things, counter-checks use to be quite common. Banks would issue books of them and all businesses would keep the checks on their counters for people to use who didn't have their own check books with them. This was before the days of computers and customer account numbers, when simply the customer's signature was enough to assure the check's authenticity. You see, back then, bank clerks actually KNEW their customers. Upon studying the check, the first thing that struck me was the amount...$8.00, and the notation on the check..."Gas and Grease"! What I was looking at was proof that back in '68 some bubba had gassed up his car and got the joints greased.....for about what it would cost me today for two gallons. I swear, it almost brought tears to my eyes, remembering those days. What really struck both Mel and I as weird is how on earth that check came to in my front yard, laying on damp ground, but completely dry itself. We did not know the name on the check and had no idea how it could have come to be where she found it. The writer in me took over as I turned the mystery of the old counter-check over in my mind. Was there an unseen portal in my front yard which enabled a time traveler to come and go? Had he inadvertently dropped the check from his pocket on his way through that portal and back to his own time? Perhaps the check merely blew out of someones car as it drove by my house, but who in the hell carries around a forty-year-old cancelled check in their car? I swear there is a story here....what about you, what kind of circumstance do you think brought this mysterious little piece of the past into my yard? Just to give you a hand, I am posting a picture of the check. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Well there I was, the other day, minding my own business and reading down the blog page. I was enjoying visiting my old friends and peeking in on others whom I don't read that often. Then it hit me right between the eyes....I found myself referred to as a purveyor of "Blatant Controversy". This in a blog of someone who I didn't even know read my blog with any consistency. Blatant controversy? Oh good lord, now what have I done? Well, bottom line is...I don't care. The thing is, I can not control how others perceive what I write, no one can. We all have different perceptions of blogs we read. Sometimes those perceptions are right, sometimes they are wrong, but as writers we can not control how others see our words. All we can do is put them out there and let the chips fall where they will. Now I will be the first to admit that a long time ago, back in my first Blog, I did write in a more controversial voice. I just wrote what I felt and didn't care who agreed or disagreed with me, but I have mellowed in this second blog. Now, 99% of the time, I try to play nice while in the sand-box called The Blog Page. With this second blog I discovered that I had become more sensitive to how others perceive me and my words....that is a trap that writers sometimes fall into. However, as I edge closer and closer to the 500 mark of this second blog, I find that I care less and less about "playing nice" and more about just saying what I feel and what I believe. **************************************** Now on another subject but at the same time, it could be related.... How do you perceive your own blog? If your blog was a TV show, what kind of network would run it? Would you be featured on one of the four major networks as a drama or a comedy series or maybe you would be viewed on cable. Maybe we could find you on Discovery Channel or Animal Planet. How about the Comedy Network or one of the many home improvement channels? For example: My sweetie, Mel aka Mrs Tor 's blog/show would definitely be featured on the RFD channel. This is a cable network that is dedicated to all things Farm/Ranch/Country Living. I perceive her blog as making a grand show on that network.How about the rest of you? Where do you precieve your Blog/Show being featured? Mine? Oh hell I liken my own blog to Gunsmoke during its last year. You remember that, don't you? It was when the shows ratings were taking a nose dive and the network was about to replace it with a Sitcom. I still believe that if Matt Dillion had of had wild monkey sex with Miss Kitty, that show would have run for another twenty years. |
My friend, Eric Wharton  has decreed Friday as Flash-Fiction Day and, inspired by his great entries, I have decided to give it a try myself. Don't expect anything even close to as good as Eric does, but I hope you enjoy this first ever try by your's truly, to do flash fiction.In The Silence, Before the Dawn In the pre-dawn darkness two men crouch behind the wall, on a rampart, waiting for the coming of the enemy. "You think they gonna hit us soon Aaron?" "Most likely they will Jim. They stopped their bombardment a good six hours ago and they been steady pounding us for twelve days now. Something's going to happen soon, that's for sure." "Aaron, I don't mind telling you; I got a bad feeling about this thing. I don't think we are gonna be seeing home again. What do you think?" Aaron glared at Jim. "It don't do no good thinking about that stuff Jim." Jim's voice was sad. "I'm sorry brother but I just can't help it. What chance do the few of us have against the thousands of men out there beyond these walls:?" Aaron sighed, his voice softened. "The truth be known, little brother, we never had a chance in hell. The minute our commander decided we had to defend this pile of rocks, we was doomed to die, and that's the God's awful truth boy." "Then why are we here Aaron? Why can't we just take off and let em have this damn place?" "Cause we gave our word to follow our commander, that's why. You want to run back to the farm and explain to our pappy why we didn't stand and fight with our friends and comrades?" Jim thought about that a moment. "No, I guess you're right, Pap would sure be mad if he knew we left our friends here. But the thing is, Aaron, I got nothing against those boys over there on the other side. They never done nothing to me...or you either for that matter. It just don't seem right somehow." Aaron snorted in disgust. "Right? What the hell does 'Right' have to do with anything? There was a dispute and two sides was drawed up; them on one side and us and our kin on the other. Me and you, we chose a damn side and here we are. Now we got to pay the fiddler, we got to put up or shut up and we got to make our stand. Hell boy, right will be figured out by them smart folks a hundred years from now, not by the likes of me and you. We just be two dirt farmers from down on the Brazos." Jim thought about it for a moment then spoke to his brother in a hushed voice. "Aaron, iffin we are gonna die here in this place, you reckon anybody will remember us?" Aaron gave his brother a sad smile and patted him on the shoulder. "Nobody outside Momma and Pappy, they will remember. But don't you worry, everybody else will remember the place and they will remember the men in charge of this big dust-up. I guess that'll have to do." Jim smiled at his brother. "I guess you're right brother and I guess I am as ready as I will ever be to meet my maker, but I wonder......." "Hush Jim, I hear movement out there!" "HERE THEY COME BOYS! TO THE WALLS, TO THE WALLS." Aaron yelled. A conversation between two brothers on the ramparts of a crumbling mission known as the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas in the pre-dawn darkness of Sunday, March 6, 1836. The conversation is of course a work of fiction, but it could have happened and it could have been in almost any setting and at any time throughout history for the men who fight the wars do so not for God or Country, but because they gave their word to serve and they committed themselves to the men who serve next to them....the rest is judged by history. |
| I may have to start getting up before dawn every morning from now on. This day has started out with two very wonderful surprises for me. First of all I was shocked and more than happy to discover, this morning, a comment to my last entry from an old friend whom I have missed around here for a year or more. gypsy4evermore IS BACK!! Lord girl, you have been missed, that's for sure. It is always good to see talented bloggers who have left, come back to Blogville. Gypsy left a lot of friends here when she headed out on her wanderings and I know they are just has happy and pleased to see her back among us as I am.The second surprise I had this morning was a bit more on the personal side. You see I stumbled out of bed only with the intentions of kicking the dogs outside to do their business...nothing more. I was then going to fall back in the bed. The thing is, I have this nasty habit...once I get out of bed, it is almost impossible for me to go back and go to sleep. No matter, I wanted to let Mel get some rest, so I got up with the dogs. Of course they went out and did their thing, then they came back inside and once they saw that I was unable to go back to bed, they were more than happy to take my place. Yup, they all went in and piled into bed with their "Momma" and went right back to sleep. So I was up....damn! I fixed my coffee and I took it out to the back room which has a picture window that looks out onto our back pasture. I decided to sit and watch the new day begin. That is when a strange thing happened....a brand new short story came into my head!! I jumped up, ran to the computer, and pounded out the first new short story I have written in almost six months...ah if felt so damn good to complete a new story. I just posted it into my port and I would love it if you could drop by and take a look at it. Keep in mind, about two hours ago, it was merely an idea. I threw it on the screen and put it in the port without doing anything other than spell check. It is a rough draft so I am open to any suggestions you may have for the story. I just wanted to get it written before it disappeared like so many of its brothers and sisters have done lately. It is called, "Invalid Item" and let me know what I need to do to make it readable.So there you have it...two good things this morning; The return of an old friend, and the return of my storytelling voice....I hope. I may just get up this early every dang morning. |
| I had a beautiful entry all written and ready to go this morning and something happened that has not occurred in a long time....I LOST THE DAMN THING! I have no idea what I did wrong, but now it is gone. Oh the pain of it all. I can not begin to tell you what a wonderful entry it was. You would have laughed, cried, and cheered loudly had you been able to read the thing. I have to say that the lost entry was truly a work of art, a shining example of blogging brilliance. Yeah, well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Maybe tomorrow I will try again but I just know whatever I write from now on will never reach the lofty heights of that lost entry. I am sure I will continue to muddle on in my usual mediocrity...DAMN THE BLOG GODS! And so ends another episode of Blog angst and drama....move along, nothing to see here. |
| I tried to write this last night to be posted this morning so as to escape the time crunch of writing before going to work....it just would not come out, dammit! So here I am, trying again to make sense of the drivel rattling about in my head. I am tired. Bone weary, soul-numbing exhaustion. I feel like a sprinter who sees the finish line, throws out his chest, makes that last kick to cross the line, break the tape and win the race...only to discover that the finish line has been moved about a hundred yards further on. I have worked all my life and worked hard and now I have three years left before I can stop work and start doing what I want to do. It might as well be thirty years. For the first time in my life I no longer have the energy or the desire to stay on the treadmill like a dutiful little hamster. Maybe more than anything else, this feeling is due to my finally accepting the fact that I am not only NOT a young man anymore, but I am now sliding out of middle-age and unceremoniously into old age. All my life I have chased after adventures. There has always been something in me that longed to test myself against the unknown, to try and accomplish what others said I couldn't do. This has lead me, back in the early years, into a number of situations or maybe they might be called "learning experiences". God knows Southeast Asia was chief among those experiences, but there were others. It was this urge that made me tackle the Big Thicket back in my native Texas. Google it, it is an amazing place....what's left of it. It was this urge that moved me to travel the length of the Trinity River in a flat-bottom boat, taking no food with me, but living off the land and the river much like the Mountain men of the early 1800's would do. I relished these adventures. I needed to pit myself against the land...and win, or against my fellow man...and win. That is what has changed about me. Even though I write about doing stuff like that in this blog, it is mainly for comedic effect and nothing more. I have finally come to accept that those days are behind me. It is like something in me has died and I need to attend its funeral...maybe that is what this entry is; A funereal of sorts. Now all I really want to do is sit on the front porch and count the freaking squirrels and I can't. I can't stop working and my heart just isn't in it anymore. I have accepted that I am old, my adventures are done, and that just getting out of bed every morning is test enough for the man I have become. Now for those of you out there who think I am whining and complaining...I am not, not really. I have just accepted a sea-change in my life and I needed to try to describe it with my words. After all, how can we call ourselves writers if we are unable to write descriptively about what is going on inside ourselves. How can we ever imbue our characters with believable emotions if we can not write about our own? So this was a writing exercise. I need to get ready for work. |
| Like the title of this entry says....Sherman is a super hero and I only discovered his secret a couple of days ago. I guess this statement needs a bit of back story to fully understand.... It all started two days ago. Our neighbor's place borders our South fence and they have a seven year old daughter named Jessie. Jessie is a sweet little girl who absolutely loves all our animals. Everyday when she comes home from school, Jessie can be found standing at our fence and petting any of our animals she can coax to her with bread or other goodies. She will stand there for hours, until her mother forces her to come inside for dinner. One of Jessie's favorites among our animal kingdom is Sherman, our big old, easy going, never-meets-a-stranger, Lab/Bloodhound mix. They are so cute together. Jessie weighs maybe fifty pounds, soaking wet with a brick in her pocket and stands just a little taller than Sherman's shoulder. Sherman, of course tips the scales at about a hundred and twenty pounds. He loves Jessie and will stand at the fence and happily allow her to scratch his head and ears through the wire. Well a couple of days ago something strange happened which Jessie's mom told us about after the fact. It seems that, just like every other day, Jessie got home from school, then made a beeline to the fence to find Sherman. Well on this day Sherman happened to be standing near the fence when Jessie got off the school bus and as she neared where he stood.....He began to growl at her! Every time she would take a step toward him, he would growl louder and even bark menacingly. Jessie was in tears, wondering what was wrong with Sherman. She called to her mom, a little frightened by how the big dog was acting. Annie, her mom came running over and saw right away what the problem was....There was a fairly large rattlesnake laying, sunning itself, between Jessie and Sherman and right next to the fence where Jessie had been heading. Sherman had kept her from walking right on top the big snake. Well the snake was dispatched quickly to snake heaven and as soon as he was taken away Sherman bounded up to the fence, tail wagging, waiting for Jessie to give him his head scratching and loving. Jessie's mom came over and told us what had happened and brought Sherman some doggie treats as his just reward. He now has the reputation of a Super Hero around here and I gotta tell you...he has gotten downright cocky. He patrols the fence line now like he is just looking for another snake to confront. And of course Jessie has her hero. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| You people realize, don't you, that almost everything that happens to me is Mel's fault. Yeah, she continually rains on my parade and now she has done it again. I'm not sure, but I think the idea of the Great Social Experiment first came to me a couple of months ago and like a small seed, it took root in my mind and grew until it was a full fledged, Mother of God, Change the World, Great Adventure. What was it? About time you asked. I decided to try to turn back time. Yes my friends I was gonna grab Mel, jump in the Way-Back Machine, and spend a year living the simple life of a turn of the century farmer in America! Just think of it....a whole year of being unplugged from the grid; no TV, no Internet. We would have veggies from the garden, eggs from our chickens, milk from our own milk cow. I was going to build a smoke house to smoke meat. The payoff? Well after a year of living in this Utopia, close to nature, and one with the land, I was gonna write a book about the experience! Make millions of dollars and retire to a beach in South Florida and spend the remainder of my days sipping tall cold drinks with little umbrellas in the tops and ogling the bikini-clad, hard bodied, young sweet thangs as they paraded down the beach. Yeah, that was the plan. My big mistake was telling Mel about it. She just stood there and gave me "The Look". You guys know the look I speak of, the one that silently screams: "If I could hide the body, I would just shoot you now."...that look. Then she has the gall to tell me: "I think I see Captain Stupid coming out in you again. Why don't you go take a nap. Maybe it will pass!" So much for my Great Social Experiment. I tell you, the woman is holding me back!! Post Script..... This entry has been up for about a half hour or so and Mel asked me why I didn't include one of my silly jokes at the end. Well I figured that after seeing the lack of response to yesterday's joke, maybe I should forget about telling jokes in here....then I said....what the hell, it's my blog...so now you get another joke. Feel free to act offended and leave in a huff.  There are less than eight months until the election, an election that will decide the next President of the United States. The person elected will be the president of all Americans, not just the Democrats or the Republicans. To show our solidarity as Americans, let's all get together and show each other our support for the candidate of our choice. It's time that we all come together, Democrats and Republicans alike. If you support the policies and character of John McCain, please drive with your headlights on during the day. If you support Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton, please drive with your headlights off at night.  |
| A quick entry before heading off to work. Any political, editorial, conclusions reached upon reading this joke is purely the intent of the author.... John was in the fertilized egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens), called 'pullets,' and ten roosters to fertilize the eggs. He kept records, and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced. This took a lot of time, so he bought some tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so he could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now, he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells. John's favorite rooster, old Butch, was a very fine specimen, but this morning he noticed old Butch's bell hadn't rung at all! When he went to investigate, he saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets, hearing the roosters coming, could run for cover. To John's amazement, old Butch had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. John was so proud of old Butch, he entered him in the Renfrew County Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges. The result was the judges not only awarded old Butch the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pulletsurprise as well. Clearly old Butch was a politician in the making. Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention. Vote carefully this year...the bells are not always audible. |
| I woke up this morning and did what I always do. I put the coffee on to make then booted up my computer. I have booting up this damn machine every single day for 10years now and I never know what I am going to find when I turn on the magic box...that's what I like about it. This morning I got a shock when I entered the Great Information Highway....Anyea is quitting. She is walking away, turning her back and disappearing over the hill and away from Blogville. Just like that, she is gone. Am I the only one who finds this state of affairs unacceptable? I doubt it, because Anyea was a lot of things to a lot of people, but most of all, she was loved and respected.This is very much like waking up of a morning and finding the name of your good friend listed in the Obituaries of the local newspaper...."I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WAS SICK." You might yell in disbelief....and now she is gone. This points up to me the one weakness of the Internet: Familiarity without Real Knowledge. We get to know people on a certain level on the Internet, to the point that we consider them friends...close, personal, friends, but at the same time we may know absolutely nothing about what goes on in their everyday life. That is the way some people want it...they feel more comfortable keeping their private lives private and not telling everyone all their troubles. That's okay, but it can lead to things like this morning....friends suddenly bidding you "Adieu" and disappearing without another word. That SUCKS. Anyea was, and still is, a friend. Whether I ever meet her in person, or whether I ever see her on this Blog page again, she will remain in that very small group of people who I consider my friend. Anyea was not just my friend either....I dare say there was and is a large group of people here who also consider her a friend and who are in shock this morning, wondering what happened. It's funny, you know. I have never even seen a picture of Anyea but I have this picture in my head of what she looked like and of who she was in person and I am rarely wrong about these things. There is a song that is quite popular, and Mel and I both thought the same thing the first time we heard it: "That reminds us of of Anyea". The song is "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat and if you have never heard the song....go listen to it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PWfB4lurT4 It is playing now as I type this. Anyea, if by chance you read this, please know you will be missed by this crusty old man. You made me smile so many times. You made more sense than anyone your age has a right to and it made me shake my head in wonder. You were like another daughter to me, little girl....one I was very proud of. So now the days to come will be a little bit grayer without her presence and the smiles will be a little sadder for her absence, but Mel and I will always think of her with fondness and love...like that daughter she and I never had together. Wherever you go Anyea, just know that you have two friends in Missouri who will think of you often...with fondness and warmth. Come back to us when you can. |
| It is now official: The baby horse's name is now "Scarlett" which was submitted by SouthernDiva . I just sent off her winnings to her so CONGRATS DIVA!!! Tomorrow I go back to work after being off for almost two weeks due to health issues. It is really going to feel strange getting back into the swing of retail after so much time spent doing nothing. Well I knew it couldn't last...LOL. Speaking of nothing lasts forever.... This past weekend my High School celebrated its 100th anniversary by holding a "100 year Reunion". All the graduating classes of the past one hundred years held one big class reunion. I found pictures of the grand event on the website of the local newspaper and as I looked over those pictures, one question kept popping into my mind: "Who the hell were all those old farts?". There they were, the graduates of my own year and those of my little brother's class which was five years after my own and they were all gray, wrinkled, old strangers. Oh what a cosmic joke to play on the easily delusional human that I am. I stared hard at one picture....it was supposed to be a shot of a guy who ran the third leg of the mile relay team...I was the anchor leg. Well I don't know who it was but it dang sure wasn't the big, strong, gazelle-fast athlete who ran those races with ME. The old duffer pictured couldn't have outrun my momma....on a good day. And the women...NO WAY. I remembered some of them in, shall we say, passionate poses frozen in time. The old ladies in those pictures were better suited to bouncing grand kids on their knee than making out under the bleachers on a hot summer night. My only defense of my sanity was to convince myself that these people were all impostors. I am so glad I chose not to make the trip back home to participate in this sad affair. Now, at least, I can maintain the illusion that I have not changed. I am still the same guy I was in '67. Those impostors will forever remain unknown to me....thank God. |
| Okay, come on people...GET TO BLOGGING!! It's Sunday and I am home and I demand to be entertained, so you people need to do a blog!! I'm old, I'm sick, and I'm trying to quit smoking. I have no patience with slow blog days. What? You think you have a life outside Blogville....well you don't so get to writing so I can enjoy what's left of this miserable day!!! Yeah, I'm talking to you, Nada , Scarlett , Eric Wharton and about a half dozen others whose names I am too damn lazy to try to write here.You people are BLOG WRITERS for God's sake...WRITE A BLOG!! You all got fans who are waiting to read them. What do you expect me to do...entertain myself? This is America, so indulge me!! |
| This morning I would like to share some good news with all of you. Mel and I have become "Grandparents" overnight!!! As some of you might know from reading my blog, we are the proud "parents" of two lovely horses...Lucy and Time. Well, this morning Lucy presented us with a very pleasant surprise; A BRAND NEW BABY GIRL! Now I say this was a surprise, but not really. We knew she was going to have the baby soon...just not this soon. As a matter of fact, I was planning on starting a contest to see who could come closest to guessing the arrival time of the new colt...Lucy messed those plans up. Anyway...the baby girl is only a few hours old and here are two pictures of baby and mother...both doing very well, thank you. Now we gotta come up with a name for the little darling. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** So you guys get your thinking caps on and be ready to come up with a suitable name. I am not going to run a regular contest but whoever comes up with a name we like and use, will recieve 10k GPs. Just post em here. Finally, before I close, I would like to pubicily thank janieruthryals for the great Merit Badge which she gave for my last blog entry. Thank you ma'am. You have no idea how much that means to me. |
| There is a magic time each day that many of us miss. It is that time between darkness of the night and the coming, new day. I stepped outside onto the front porch, coffee cup in hand, and surveyed the world around me. Dark still clung with weakening grip upon the trees and grass, the sky and air. There was a covering of light mist, of fog, so like the virginal veil of a bride upon her wedding day. Slowly, the darkness receded; the night call of the Whippoorwill fading and being replaced by the plaintive call of the Morning Dove. I sat in my chair, on my porch, and sipped slowly from the coffee mug.......listening...watching. I was witness to the sun's arrival and watched as it cast aside the veil of fog that had so coyly masked the land before me, its arrival heralded by two attendant, gray squirrels who scampered from limb to limb of a large oak and chattered their welcome to a new day. I watched silently as, one by one, the citizens of the forest rose and went about their day. Robins, Finches, and larks came flitting into the yard to breakfast at the feeders. Mr. Rabbit made a brief appearance, before scampering off to the side pasture and the tender green shoots of grass there. Four silent forms detached themselves from the forest and moved into the side yard....our deer had come out to eat. In this magic time, before the sounds of Man...cars, trucks, voices raised and lowered...drowned out the sounds of nature, I soaked in the beauty of the bird calls and the sounds of rustling grass announcing the passage of some timid creature. And, as daylight came fully upon my little piece of land, I fixed my eyes upon a spot where the green tops of the trees met the blue of the sky and I wondered. I wondered at the long journey a young cowboy had taken. I could see him there, just above the trees and in the sky and I hoped, with all my heart, that there was such a thing as parallel universes. Somewhere, out there where he rode still...self assured and strong. Somewhere where age would never reach him and wars and strife were unknown. I had to smile then. Yes, he was out there somewhere, and he was still in me. He still thrives here in this place, on glorious mornings such as this...then he makes way for this old codger to take over and we both get on with our day. |
| Well this is the big day in PA. The election process grinds on and on, and on, and on....Well, you get the idea. I read a lot of blogs, both here and on other sites. I listen to pundits on TV ad nauseum. In fact I am sure that I read and listen way too much when it comes to the political scene here in the good ole U S of A. What I find exceeding funny and at the same time rather sad is how so many of those pundits, both on TV and on the net like to play up our present President as some kind of uneducated, country bumpkin, common man, redneck who somehow lacks the elan, or panache to handle the job of President of the United States. Above all else, he is constantly portrayed as the prototypical Texan and as such has served to give Texans a bad name. Hell we don't need any help giving Texans a bad name, we do that real well all on our own. The truth of the matter is that Mr. Bush's major failing has been that he is not a very good actor. You see he is about as far from the common man, good ole boy redneck, and Texan as you can get. He was born in New Haven, Connecticut. He was the son of George Hubert Walker Bush and the grandson of Prescott Bush, the U.S. Senator for Connecticut. He was and is a child of a rich, powerful, and privileged East Coast family. He attended a privileged prep school and graduated from Yale University. While at that prestigious East Coast College, he was a member of the Skull and Bones club. Has there ever been a more elitist group than this one? His daddy moved to Texas and drug him along with the rest of the East Coast carpetbaggers looking to get richer in the Texas oil fields. Mr. Bush senior was successful in state and national politics and when George decided to go that route he made the mistake of trying to pass himself off as one of the common man. It is hardly his fault that he was unable to act the part with any degree of success. I really believe that Mr. Bush tries to react to events like he THINKS a common man would, but like most men of privilege, he really has no idea what drives us. There has been a lot made of the fact that Bush used his family's connections and money to dodge service in Vietnam. Well of course he did. Hell, most young men of his means did the same thing. Water under a long gone bridge. The thing is..as bad as his acting has been, and as many missteps he has taken during his presidency, he is still the President of the United States of America and for that I will respect him. To those who take such glee in tearing the man down, I ask you: How would you have handled the job in his place? Could you have done any better? He took office and almost immediately was met with hammer blows to this country. 9/11, Hurricane Katrina and Rita and the resultant blows to the economy....how would you very smart people have handled the job? I will tell you one thing for sure, you really should be glad that Mr. Bush was NOT one of those Redneck, ignorant Texans you so like to portray him as, because if he had been like that...like ME, then you would have really been howling about now, because I would have been a hell of a lot more "common" shall we say, in how I would have met those threats. This is not meant as a defense of the Second Mr. Bush's presidency but rather my own simple, uneducated attempt to set the record a little straighter. I have disagreed with my President on a number of his actions, but in the end he is still my President. Maybe what I really want to say is: If you want to throw rocks at the man, make sure you identify your target. Don't look at the Texas Rednecks, but look instead to the East Coast families of privilege. They can be just as stupid as the best of us Rednecks...they just get paid more for doing it. |
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