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 |  They say:"Third time's a charm". We shall see. Welcome to my third blog on WDC, |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The above picture has graced both my other blogs and of course I had to have it here...Me and my sweetie. This is my third blog here on WDC. This is, in effect, my house. So please come on in and make yourself at home. Please don't mind the mess because this part is still under construction and I will be adding stuff in the next few weeks until I get it the way I want it. About the Title: "Tor's House"....Well in a way, this is what a blog is to many of us. It is our way of inviting the world into our personal space. Just like in real life, I will endeavor to be the best host to my guests that I can be, but you must understand...in my house I tend to speak my mind. I apologize in advance for any who may feel uncomfortable. What will you find here? Oh that's easy....Humor, strong opinion, and even some philosophical musings....or what passes for that with a dumb ole country boy. So I welcome everyone...come in and let's sit and chew the fat awhile. Let's talk about stuff and see if we can figure out the answers to the world's problems....or what to make for lunch...whichever. |
| Damon Runyon once said: "On the best day of your life and the worse day of your life, the sun sets." No truer words have ever been spoken. No matter how good you have it or how bad a time you are experiencing....the sun sets, the day ends and you get a brand new day to deal with. Thank God the sun is about to set on the election process...two and a half weeks and then it's over! One side will say: "Yipee!" and the other side will say: "Oh Crap!" Then, in four years, we get to do it all over again. Part of the population are going to believe that the country has been saved, while part of the country will be convinced that their nation is going to hell in a hand basket. The truth, of course, will fall somewhere in the middle. The fact of the matter is, historians, two hundred years from now will use the "facts" of what happened to prove which ever revisionist view of that long gone time that dovetails with their own particular philosophy. Speaking of History..... I was surprised yesterday at the number of comments my little thrown together entry got and the range of responses. There was another element of that entry which time did not allow for me to add so I would like to touch upon it here, this morning. Back when men wore Stetsons for reasons other than ornamental, it was customary for a gentleman to remove said hat in the presence of a lady, or at least tip it when greeting her. I know that back when I was a young man, had I failed to do either of these things, my daddy would have knocked that hat right off my head. Men were expected to hold a door for a lady and to help her with her chair. We stood when a lady left the table, or exited a room....this was just expected. When did all this change and why? I was taught that all these things are what a man did to show respect. In personal contact, I still say Yes ma'am and no ma'am to a lady...of any age, until they let me know that formality is not needed any longer. I can not tell you the number of strange looks I get from teenage girls whom I address in this manner. Any ideas? I have a few of my own but I would love to hear what you think. What changed in this world to make such manners obsolete? |
| A quick entry before I head off to work this morning. This will be a short history lesson for you younger readers....you know who you are, the ones who seemed to have been born with an Ipod in your ears and a cell phone in your pocket. It was not always like that. Back in the dark past, sometimes after the Bronze age, when Dinosaurs and men shared the earth and Raquel Welch ran around dressed in that skimpy, skin-tight saber-tooth Cat skin....lucky skin.... and bathrooms were not always inside the house, things were a tad different than they are today. For example: The television had a lot of numbers on the channel dial, but there were only three channels. We got ABC, CBS, and NBC and that was IT. There was no need for a remote control, that was a job filled by kids. The television was turned on in the evening after dinner which was a meal eaten around a table and the whole family was required to be present....or not eat. After the meal, dad would move into the living room and he would turn on the TV then he and mom would take their favorite seats and us kids found a spot on the floor. The designated channel knob operator would sit closest to the set. Dad would choose what we watched and we never watched more than a couple of hours of TV, then it was time for bed. Going to bed meant going to sleep. Our music came from something called a radio, or even stranger to you now, we would also listen to large vinyl discs called "Records" which was imprinted with music.The music itself was a thing of surpassing innocence when judged against what is produced today. It had an actual melody, words that rhymed, and never had an obscene word in it. No one called our home after eight at night, unless it was a case of family emergency. The phone in our homes usually sat on a small table in the foyer or hallway, or in some other non-private area of the home and if one of us kids got a call, we took that call right there where EVERYONE could listen in on our side of the conversation. No, we could not walk around with the phone, the receiver was attached to the base with a wire. The family had one phone...one TV...period. So what did all of this mean? It meant that our time at home was spent as a family. We ate together, we relaxed and enjoyed viewing time on the TV together. There was none of the splintering and going off in different directions that we have today. Was this better or worse than what we have today? That is open to argument. For myself, it was good. I grew up with a strong feeling of a family base which strengthened me as I grew older. For some, I daresay it was not so good. So how about it? Any of you old dinosaurs out there remember those days? Where they good for you or do you envy the kids today? I am curious...... |
| Yesterday was my first day back at work after a week of "vacation" which I took in order to be at home with Mel after her procedure. What can I say about diving back into the retail cesspool after a quiet week at home? Yeah....I know...it wasn't pretty. Actually I managed the day very well, thank you. Thankfully I have stumbled upon something that helps me to make it through a day, or a week, or even from now on, on the job. You see, back when Mel was diagnosed with Fibro, her doctor at the time prescribed an anti-depressant for her. It seems that depression is a very common byproduct of that decease. Mel, being the strong individual she is, never took this medicine but the other day she suggested that I might try it just to see if it helped in any way. Well by God it did help! Yes sir, I took the magic pill and reported to my own personal portal to hell with a freaking smile on my face. What's even better, I never once had that old urge to rip some one's head off and spit down the hole....Better Living Through Chemistry! Okay, okay, I understand that if a freaking pill for depression is needed for me to have a good day at work then something is fundamentally wrong with me or my circumstance, but hell....IT WORKED. Now I do not take it as prescribed. They tell you take one the first day, two a day the second and three a day from then on. Well I won't fall into that trap. Doing it that way would ensure that you pretty much stayed drugged up the entire day. Nope, I pop one before I leave for work and that's it. Maybe what I have is called "situational depression"....I find myself in a Wal-Mart situation and I am depressed....sounds good to me. So now you know....any time you walk through the door of a Wal-Mart and some guy is standing there smiling and being pleasant to you, know now that this man is in all probability, under the influence of some really kick-ass drugs!  |
| Lately I find myself doing something over and over and I wonder if any of the rest of you have ever done this same thing. More and more, I find myself walking outside, into the yard or sometimes out into the side pasture and just standing very still and quiet. After a few moments, I am aware of the earth speaking to me. Its voice is soft, a mutter, a whisper in my ear. The voice is borne upon the gentle breeze, given sound as it slips through green leaves on the trees and slowly moves the clouds across the bright, blue sky. This is how I recharge my batteries...listening to this voice. It tells me many things and allows me glimpses of what should be, or what could be. It bears me off to many places, leaving my body standing to await my return. The voice I hear of late has shown me a wide, beautiful world...natural beauty, devoid of the footprints of man and his inventions. This is a vision that brings me the most joy because as I observe it, I feel the urge to saddle my horse and ride abroad upon this unspoiled land; to feel the power of a good horse between my legs; to hear the creak of the leather saddle and smell the fresh loam turned up by the horse's hoofs.....to explore an unknown land. The voice of the Earth shows me these mental pictures and soothes my soul from a week or month, or even a day of dealing with the modern world. In February of this year I will be exactly five years younger than my father was when he died. I can remember well coming upon him in the last five or six years of his life as he stood alone in his yard or out in the pasture, his eyes unfocused, his body still, as he seemed to be listening to something I could not hear. He would give a start as if surprised when I would walk up to him and he would smile sheepishly as if I had found him doing something private. I used to wonder, at those times, what it was that held my father's rapt attention and now I think I finally understand. He was listening to his own Earth voice as it transported him to different worlds...worlds of what might have been, of choices made and not made, of journey's wished for but never taken. Yes, now I understand dad.....I have been listening to the Voice. |
| Over the past year, for some reason, I have found myself growing disillusioned with the whole Blogging scene. When this happens it becomes increasingly difficult to write entries that even comes close to making sense or that even remotely entertains anyone. On such occasions, I find myself withdrawing for days at a time and contemplating doing away with writing a blog all together. Funny thing though, whenever this mood assails me I always run across a new blogger who rekindles my interest, who challenges me to write better than I have before, and whose skill and honest prose makes me want to read more. Two such writers who I stumbled upon rather late in my blogging career and whose writing helped me to improve my own poor attempts are Eric Wharton   and Carolina Blue  . These two gentlemen are what I would consider the cream of the crop when it comes to informative, honest, well-written blogs. These two men have the knack of teaching someone the facts without coming across as condescending or preachy. They are able to expound on a subject using historic facts and not mythology which is what one finds in most efforts such as this. My hat's off to both these fine writers.Yesterday, I found another blogger who, in my humble opinion, fits right in with the aforementioned pair of bloggers. This new blogger is Eric the Fred  and I urge anyone who stumbles in here to read this clap-trap, to head on over and welcome this gentleman to Blogville. His blog, "Invalid Item"  Has one entry, made yesterday, and it was a pure joy to read. So if you have a free moment, go say hello to a new citizen of Blogville and make him feel welcome. |
| Okay, I got a bone to pick with WDC. At what point did it become admissible to embed advertisements in an inter-active story? Never mind that WDC has made it almost impossible to keep an interactive coherent, but now they insist on taking random words, highlighting them in blue, and when you put a cursor on them, you get a FREAKING AD!! I don't know about you, but I do not appreciate ANYONE placing ads into the body of something I type. Even if the chapter I write is part of a story written by many, THAT chapter is still MINE....I wrote it, I created it, and sure as hell didn't give anyone the ok to place stupid ads in it. If the Storymaster wants to continue to use items we write to generate money, then I think he should consider paying us a portion of the proceeds garnered by those ads...that's only fair isn't it. A year or so ago, Nada , myself, and four or five others did an interactive which ended up with 118 freaking chapters and we never once had the problems this new one has offered us. For those who have not tried it yet, I dare you to go to the new interactive Nada has started and try to follow the story....it is damn near impossible and there is only like eight chapters so far. This is a problem that definitely HAS to be looked into. Oh and the next time I see where someone has embedded advertisement in something I write here, I will be expecting a check in the freaking mail! Yeah....Right! |
| We just got home a few minutes ago after spending the past six hours at the hospital. Mel is doing fine after undergoing her day-surgery and is now safely tucked into bed. I plan on keeping her there the next two days at least. The doctor was happy with the results and she is sending two polyps she removed from Mel, to pathology. We should have the results back in a couple of weeks. Now I think I am going to crash for awhile....been a long day. |
| Why do we blog? Have you ever asked yourself that question, and more importantly, have you come up with an answer ? I have asked myself that question on more than one occasion. 1. To inform and entertain....Well hell, I am too dumb to consider ever informing others and the entertainment value is limited at best. 2. To share my experiences from the past.... Okay, I'll buy that, I do like to talk about the dead-and-buried past. The problem with this is that after doing two previous blogs, both of 500 entries, I have run out of funny, moving, or silly experiences to share with you. Strange thing is, I have never liked to talk about myself, but here I find that I am constantly sharing very personal and private moments with those who stumble in here to read...what's up with that? 3. To push a particular philosophy, or belief upon my readers.... Though some may think me guilty of this, it really is not why I blog. Actually, I could care less whether or not someone agrees with my beliefs or my personal creed. I know what I know, and I believe what I believe and if you, the reader do not share these beliefs that's fine with me. I do not think less of those who disagree with me. 4. To chronicle the daily happenings of my life.... God, no. submitting to the page, my daily trials and tribulations would be about as interesting as watching paint dry. I could no more do this than I could keep a diary when I was younger. 5. To scratch an itch-to-write that I know will never be satisfied in any other way......Bingo! After two blogs and a partial third one, I think I have finally hit upon why I do what I do. I truly believe that the thing that motivates me and pushes me to blog is that "itch" most writers have to create a body of work that someone else will read. Yes, it matters if others read what I write. Anyone who tells you it does not matter is being less than honest with themselves. If we didn't care if a work was read, then we would not be striving to be Published, and let's face it, most of us do harbor that fundamental dream of publishing our work in some form or another. Here is where many of us tend to be less than honest with ourselves. We constantly talk about how we are working on this project or that project and how we plan on having our work out there before the public...Published. In fact few of us will ever take that final step, or leap.....however you look at it. I have deluded myself in such a way for many years now and I do believe it is time to be honest with myself and to those few who read this blog. The truth is....Though I have written many short stories and finished one novel and half of another one, I shall never be published or read by the general public. I do believe it is time for me to put away that dream, stop reaching for that brass ring and be honest. Yes, I love to write stories and I can do it fairly easily but when it comes to entering the publishing jungle....I freeze. I look at what this agent wants, what this publisher wants, how this should be done, how that should not be done...I stare at this jungle of hoops they require you to jump through and I just throw up my hands in defeat. Yes, I have published a book of short stories through LuLu which is a POD or, Publish on Demand publishing company and should not be confused with Vanity Press. I have sold forty or fifty books, but to sell any significant number I must be willing and able to PROMOTE my book and myself. I am incapable of doing that. The thought of book signings, promotional gimmicks and just putting myself out there literally scares me to death. I can not do that, nor will I ever try. I am just not the kind to walk out upon a stage, so to speak, and perform. There are many who have been successful doing the POD type of publishing and for them it works so I am in no way putting this sort of publishing down. To be honest with myself....and that's important to me....I think I will continue to write and I will put each project away in a box. Maybe in fifty years or so one of my grandchildren or great grandchildren will find them. I will leave a note with the box that says: "To anyone finding this box....these are the children of my imagination. If you want to share them with others merely call them "A Dead Man's Tales." and I hope you make a mint from them!" There....I have been completely honest in this blog and that was what was needed...for me. This has not been written to elicit flowery words of praise or sympathy for me or for my writing. I merely wanted to be honest about why I blog. I am merely scratching an itch in the only way I know how to do. If, in the scratching, I have managed to entertain even one of you then I feel successful and justified in what I do. Thank you for reading. |
| Over the past month, as the political race for the office of President reaches its much awaited climax, and as the American economic picture becomes murky and unsure, I have noticed a rather strange phenomenon.....Nothing else happens in the world! I came to this startling conclussion after weeks of surfing not only the cable news outlets, but the...shudder...network news as well. To me it seemed that suddenly there was no murders, no robberies, no fire, flood, or pestilence happening anywhere, at least you could find no mention of these events on the news. Nothing, it seems, was allowed to get in the way of telling us all about Sarah Palin's hair-do or Barak Obama's supposed ties to domestic terrorists of the past. I don't know about you, but I am more than ready to be informed on all the murders, robberies, and mayhem in the world rather than political hysteria. I have arrived at another, wholly unrelated conclussion too. I have decided that my wife is an evil woman who only lives to find crap for me to do. Now this theory is not new, I usually realize it only when the two of us are thrown together for, say a week, when I am on vacation. I can not convince her that the whole idea of a vacation is an absence of work. She insists that a vacation is merely a CHANGE of work locations. See what I mean...she is an evil woman. This brings me to a theory I have been studying. I believe that when it comes to companionship, man prefers a good dog to a woman. I mean, think about it.... 1. The later you are, the more excited your dogs are to see you. 2. Dogs don't notice if you call them by another dog's name. 3. Dogs like it if you leave a lot of things on the floor. 4. A dog's parents never visit. 5. Dogs agree that you have to raise your voice to get your point across. 6. You never have to wait for a dog; they're ready to go 24 hours a day. 7. Dogs find you amusing when you're drunk. 8. Dogs like to go hunting and fishing. 9. A dog will not wake you up at night to ask, "If I died, would you get another dog?" 10. If a dog has babies, you can put an ad in the paper and give them away. 11. A dog will let you put a studded collar on it without calling you a pervert. 12. If a dog smells another dog on you, they don't get mad. They just think it's interesting. 13. Dogs like to ride in the back of a pickup truck. And last, but not least: 14. If a dog leaves, it won't take half of your stuff. I rest my case....thank you very much! |
| Well it's official, the snake-oil salesmen of Congress have sold us a bottle of Dr. Feel Good's magic elixir and now everything is gonna be okie-dokie. Pardon me if I just muse a bit this morning, all this Congressional activity has me in a contemplative frame of mind. Will someone out there please tell me how the hell the state of California can go broke and how it figures that the taxpayers in the rest of the country have to bail THEM out too. I thought all the enlightened people lived in California so how did they allow themselves to go broke? Yes, I know, that is just an over simplification...to say all the enlightening folks live in California. Perception.....that's what that is. That's like the perception that all the folks in the South are ignorant, backwoods, hicks who are narrow minded and intolerant. That's like saying all the folks who live in the country or on a farm can not understand complex social problems....only "cosmopolitan" city folks have any understanding of those problems. Perceptions.....Painting everyone with the same broad brush, now why do we do that? Well those thoughts just give me a headache...let's move on, shall we. Why do cap manufacturers still put bills on caps? It seems no one remembers that the cap bill goes in front anymore. It's one thing to see some fool teenager wearing his cap backward....hell they barely have enough sense to put their underwear on right...but when I see some middle-aged, pot-bellied, gray haired, man swaggering down the street wearing his cap backward, I just want to jack-slap some fashion sense into him. Moving on.... Can someone tell me at what exact moment we became a nation of ill-mannered brutes? Example: A little old lady is painfully pushing a shopping cart loaded with groceries toward the exit at Wal-Mart. She is moving at a blinding speed of about six feet per hour and behind her is a long line of people having to move at roughly the same speed. It never fails, when this happens, there is some man or woman who will utter a loud curse and blast past the old woman....sometimes physically shoving her and her basket to one side in their rush to leave the store. My question is....Where the hell can anyone be in such a rush to go to that they feel justified in knocking some little senior citizen out of the way to get there? At what point, in this country, did we lose our patience, our compassion, and our kindness? Moving on.... Something just occurred to me....one of you people out there who are smarter than me (that means damn near all of you) please explain something to me. I thought that Democracy was a matter of the Majority rules. I mean, if the majority of the people are against the government doing something and the government does it anyway....are we really living in a democracy? I am reminded of Premier Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev of Russia, way back in the early 60's when he banged his shoe on the desk at the U.N. and declared: "We will bury you! We will conquer you from the inside." Looks like he just might have been right. Shouldn't there be some difference between Government and Big Business, or should we just move the Capital Building over to Wall Street. Okay...enough musings for one day....thanks for reading. |
| What the hell are we doing? I mean, really, this is a writing site so how many of us are actually writing on something we hope to publish? Instead, we are in here reading or even more time consuming, we are trying to come up with something to write our own blog about. Did I mention that I had a day from hell at work today? Well I did. If Mel's health was better and if she had been employed, I would have simply walked away from the job today and that is something I have never done...just walked off. It was that bad and it promises to be the same tomorrow and for the rest of the days from now on. I now know what indentured servitude feels like. What I need are some kick-ass drugs to keep me mellowed out so the shit won't effect me the way it does. So that I could just smile at the screaming, irate, customers and tell them: "I'm sorry but this new system is the brain child of management and any complaints should be taken up with them. You may find them in the back offices as they rarely ever come out here on the sales-floor. Oh and while you are at it you are most welcome to shove your returns up your yard-wide ass!" "Thank you for shopping Wal-Mart." You know what I am really sick of? Well since you asked, I will go ahead and tell you. I am sick to death of buying some damn book by a freaking author who has already published three other books, and finding the damn thing almost unreadable. I hate it when I come across these idiots who have been published in mainstream publishing...multiple times and they can't even follow a plot line, their characters are one-dimensional, their grammar is worse than mine and their story just fails to make any sense at all. AND THEY GET PAID FOR DOING THIS? I just finished one that, had it been written by a high school drop-out, I still would have expected better. Do you have any idea what it is like to have to sit in the break room during lunch and the only alternative to actually talking to the collection of idiots sitting around you is to read such a book as I have just described......Just shoot me. Okay, let me get this straight now....they said...."If congress didn't vote for the bail out by this past Monday, the world was going to end". It didn't. Then they said: "Well you didn't vote for a bail-out so we are gonna give you ONE more chance, now vote for it this time or the world really will end by FRIDAY." Personally I say: "Okay, bring on the end of the world, hell has to be better than standing at the freaking Wal-Mart door." Thank you, and good night! Oh and if I don't see you before the world ends....It's been fun! |
| Some of you may remember me blogging about the newest addition to our little family; our dog, Booker. If you will remember, at the time I referred to him as “That pug-ugly, little mongrel dog.” Well he is still pug-ugly and little, but by God the boy ain’t no mongrel anymore! No sir, Mel found out the other day just what kind of dog ole Booker is. He is a Chaweenie! That, for all you uninformed dolts who have not “googled” the breed, is a cross between a Chihuahua and a dachshund, or “weenie” dog....get it...Cha-weenie....what a hoot! I personally like the nick name this particular mix-breed has: “Mexican Hotdog”. Just to refresh your memory, here is Booker during one of his “Time-outs” in the back yard. I think Mel put him there for making one of her shoes his personal chew-toy. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Booker has made himself at home here at “Almosta Ranch”, in fact, he holds a rather unique position hereabouts.....he is the only one, of the dogs and cats section of the family, that has not been “Fixed” yet. Yup, four dogs and only one of them with his balls still intact. I do believe the old boy is rather proud of that distinction. The thing is though, him being the only dog with a working love muscle does have its own set of problems. Two male dogs....Sherman and Booker....Two female dogs....Mollie and Sassy. Of the four, Booker is the only one who is actively “looking for love” and this does cause problems. The main problem is that Booker’s number one girl just happens to be Mollie our Black Lab who just happens to top the scales at a mere one hundred pounds and stands about two feet taller at the shoulder than Booker....did I mention she is fixed and has absolutely no interest in doing the doggy mambo with our hero? Now that should be the end of it, right, unless of course I break down and buy the boy a step ladder. But, even if he gets up to “action” level, she ain’t gonna have none of it. Oh he tries, God knows he does. Every dang time she lays down for a nap....here comes Booker just like one of those old Pepe LePew cartoons....fairly bouncing, his ears up, his nose exploring....well you get the picture. And what does he get for all his trouble? She grabs him in her huge mouth, shakes him like a rag doll, and tosses him to the other side of the room. I gotta hand it to Booker though. Once he hits the floor, he will scramble back to his feet, shake his head as if to say: “Oh yeah, baby. You know you want me.” Then he bounds right back over to her. After two or three of these encounters, I usually have throw him outside and hose him down with the garden hose....that usually gets his mind off things. Funny how much dogs and men have in common isn’t it. Don’t get me wrong though. It’s not like Booker pines away for the unrequited love of Mollie. Nope, some days he sets his sights on another victim...uh...conquest. His other favorite love object just happens to be Smoke. For those who don’t remember, Smoke is our thirty pound (fixed) tomcat. It seems that Booker is an equal opportunity lover...dog, cat, fence post, it makes him no mind at all. Even Smoke is bigger than Booker, but I think he is just a bit confused by all the unwarranted attention he gets from Booker and nothing in the Dog Vs Cat Manual quite covers this Cross-Species Love Connection. It usually ends the same way though.....with me lifting Booker off Smoke, tossing his ass outside, and turning on the garden hose. Welcome to life on Almosta Ranch....Ya’ll come back now, ya hear! |
| Paul Newman is dead. He was 83 years old at the time of his death and I think everyone will agree, Mr. Newman was one of the true giants of Hollywood. Not only was he a great actor, but he was the kind of man I could look up to and I promise you....there ain't that many of those in this world. Mr. Newman was married to the same woman for 50 years. There was one event that happened some years ago, when he was younger and in his prime. He was of course one of the most handsome leading men in Hollywood. A reporter asked him if he had ever given in to the temptation of all those beautiful women throwing themselves at him. His reply: "Why would I settle for hamburger when I have steak at home." Now that is a man I can respect. Rest in Peace, Paul Newman. Your like will not be seen again very soon, in Hollywood or anywhere else. Truly a life well lived. |
| Do we or don't we.....that is the question. Do we bail out Wall Street and set our economic ship aright or do we leave it to sink or float on its own? I am well and truly torn on this issue. Seven hundred and fifty BILLION dollars constitutes a massive tax burden to strap upon our backs doesn't it....and for what? To bail out very rich businessmen who are guilty of greed and mismanagement. Yes, the upper management of these companies made a lot of money and whatever happens, they will walk away with a lot of money and that's not right. But if you think about it, the businesses like Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae got into trouble doing what WE demanded they do: Give more loans to low income people like me who can't really afford to buy a home and didn't have a prayer of paying for one. I am just thankful that I did not succumb to the lure of taking them up on the offer. They are just two examples...there are more. WE demanded more and they rushed to give it all to us....for a price. Well now the bill is due. So let's do nothing. Let's tell Congress to go home and let us just allow things to happen in the natural course of events. Is that what we want? I can not imagine the august body of Congress actually managing to accomplish something meaningful in a day; after all, they spend years of their terms getting nothing done. I will say this: If we do nothing and we let Wall Street falter and these businesses go belly up then I hope you and I are ready to walk through the fire. If you know anyone left alive who lived through the last depression, go talk to them and get a feel for what may be in store for the country. I have said many times in this blog and my previous blogs, that this day was coming and I have said over and over that I don't think it makes a bit of difference who is elected President....they won't be able to avert what's coming. So do we just let it come or do we delay the inevitable? That is a question each of you must answer for yourself and I don't think there is a wrong answer....I don't think it matters anymore. A cautionary note here: The above are the words of one uneducated, poor, common man who is only speaking what is in his uninformed heart. It does not mean I am speaking truth from the mountain-top, just telling you what I feel. Unlike some on this forum, I am far from sure what is true and what is fact and what will happen and when. My old daddy use to say: "You don't have to agree or believe me; My mouth is not a prayer-book." Decide for yourself. |
| I have a recurring memory that comes to me often these days. It is almost as if I am viewing a painting, a frozen moment in time, an old snapshot of the past...... A hot, July day with the sun beating down baking everything exposed to its light and chasing away all hint of shadow. Grass, thick, lush, soft, and so green it almost seems blue, covers the ground of the large meadow. The river, flowing sluggishly along on its journey to the sea, marks the edge of the meadow. Weeping willows and ancient live oaks mark the boundary where the meadow stops at the edge of the water. This is the place we went each year. The gathering of the McClain clan from all parts of Texas. The Family Reunion. Images, like black and white slides flashing on a blank wall still come to me today. Tall, strong, clear-eyed men gathered around a fire-pit. My father, overseeing the brisket and chicken-halves barbequing on the pit. My Grandfather, Sep, sitting on an old metal chair...sharing a place of honor with his brother, my great-uncle Zed. Both men ancient in years, quietly sharing memories of times gone by. Women....my mother, aunts, and my grandmother busily setting up home-made, wooden picnic tables for the coming feast; putting slices of watermelon in a big wash tub full of ice, turning the handles of the old ice-cream makers. Home-made ice cream and ice cold watermelon on a hot summer day.....I can close my eyes and still taste these pleasures. Around and through this scene of grown-ups run an army of children. Brothers, sisters, cousins.....ages varying from toddlers to teen-agers. Running like the wind, playing tag, hide-and-seek, Ollie-Ollie-Oxen- free. Laughter so loud and free issuing from young bodies, laughter from free and joyous young hearts....I don’t think I ever laughed like that after adulthood. Are adults even capable of it? Children charging into the river. Swimming, splashing, screaming and laughing or just laying on the sand bar and letting the sun dry their bodies. Freedom......complete happiness. These images, these memories, come to me more and more at this late stage in my life. The adults who inhabit the scenes are all long dead and gone. Some of those children are also dead, while the rest, like me, are sliding into old age. We share something in common, those of us who are left.....we have these memories. We go back there, in our minds, from time to time....it’s what keeps us sane. Yes, those times are long gone and children today rarely get the opportunity to experience these things we did but maybe as long as there is someone who remembers then they aren’t really gone now are they. |
| I tend to forget, sometimes, how different life was when I was a young boy growing up in a small Texas town. The good thing is that whenever I do forget, something always happens to remind me of that almost forgotten way of life. Last week I had such a gentle reminder. Mel's old rattle-trap truck was once again on the fritz and needed some expert doctoring. Now this dang sorry excuse for a truck has logged more time in the shop than on the road ever since she brought it home. Well it had been parked under its favorite shade tree for about a month, refusing to move so the time had come once again for another visit to the mechanic....those guys love that truck. But this time we went a different route. One day while Mel was over at her sister's house overseeing a new horse-shoer working on her babies, she got into a conversation with the young man and happened to mention the trouble she was having with her truck. He told her: "Well dang, ma'am, you need to take that thang on over to see my daddy. He is a retired mechanic who piddles around with cars as a hobby. Maybe he can help ya. His name is Bill, I‘ll call him and tell him you are coming.” So a few days later we head out...after coaxing a little life from the truck...to find Bill. To get to his house one must drive up two very large hills and out about ten miles from nowhere, but we managed to find the place. Bill’s home sits on the very top of the last large hill we had to climb and he met us in his driveway with a wave and a smile; his son had told him we were coming that day. Bill was a wizened, little dried-rasin of a man well into his eighties. Despite his advanced age, he still got around very well and was sharp as a tack. Bill’s home was a rambling old white, clapboard, farm house that had been built, he told us proudly, back in the ‘30s. When we walked inside his house it was, indeed like walking through a time warp and into that same era. All the furnishings could have come right out of a farm house circa 1930, a antique collector would have gone crazy in the place. After a short visit and a cup of coffee, he went right to work on the truck, tugging this, plinking that, listening to mysterious motor sounds, all the while keeping up a running commentary on Politics, religion, and the state of the world in general. Yeah, he was quite the talker. After about thirty minutes he gave us his opinion as to what the main problem was and sent us down the hill to Doniphan to purchase the parts he would need to do the work. As we backed out of his drive he waved and said: “Just tell em ’Bill-on-the-hill sent you and they will give you a good discount.” I chuckled and told Mel; “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna walk into a parts store and tell them Bill on the hill sent me. I know a local joke on the newbie when I hear one.” So of course, what does Mel do when we walk into the store? She calls out to the counter man: “Hey, ’Bill on the hill’ sent us for some parts. He is working on our truck.” I ducked my head waiting for the guys to burst out laughing at our expense....but they didn’t. The man behind the counter of the small parts store just smiled and said: “Oh yeah. Old Bill has been working on cars around here for over 40 years and sends us a lot of business.” We ended up paying twenty-nine dollars for a part that should have cost fifty and twelve dollars for a part that should have cost twenty. Damn! Old Bill on the hill had some clout around here, it would seem. As we rode back to Bill’s place I got to thinking about what just happened. It dawned on me that I had seen this sort of behavior before...when I was a young boy....back in rural Texas. I remembered then, my daddy’s admonition that: “A man’s reputation and his good word is worth more than gold. If you take care of those two things, you will be a rich man.” He was right, of course and that is how people did business back then. They gave merit to a man’s good name and they did business on a handshake. It was nice to know that there are still small towns in this country that still holds to values that served to build this nation. I asked myself then; If I had before me, a man with a million dollars and standing next to him was Bill, who would I consider the “rich” man. Well hell, Bill on the Hill, that’s who. |
| Maybe it is because I have just finished three days from hell at work. Maybe it is because awash with discontent over where I am at this late stage in my life. Whatever the reason, I found myself sinking into a first class rage this morning while watching the News coverage (ad nauseum) of the presidential election. It dawned on me, as I watched each candidate tear down the opponent, while building themselves up, that in the final analysis, it don't make a tinker's damn who wins. People, one man, especially a President of the United States, will not save or destroy this country. The President does not make laws, he has the power to sign bills into law or to veto them...that's it. It is the job of Congress to make the laws which effect us. If the President does not agree with a bill brought before him, he can veto that bill, but then Congress can override that veto with a two-thirds majority vote. It's called checks and balances folks. If we are to fix what is wrong with this country, we must look closer to home for the remedy.....look in the mirror. Get involved in the process of government by keeping track of what and how your Senators and Congressmen vote. Let them know when they get it wrong...you can actually TALK to these guys a lot easier than to a President. Then, if they continue to do wrong....vote their ass out of office and replace them with someone who can do it better. Same goes for the freaking price of oil. You don't like the cost of gas...well here's an idea for you: Voluntary Gas Rationing. If a large percentage of us would take it upon ourselves to ration our use of the product by staying home on weekends, making fewer trips to the store you could make a difference. Try only going to the store after work, on your way home and then only shop at stores along your normal driving route. Use Less Gas...ration yourself. Yeah, I know...Pie in the sky. Self sacrifice is not a big trait among Americans, neither is getting involved. We would rather sit back, bitch and complain, and let others (media) tell us what to think and how to act. Well I for one am sick to death of all of it. I am doing the VGR thing. If I am not going to work or back home, my damn car will sit in the driveway. All my family lives in other states so this is going to hurt...but damn it, life is not supposed to be easy. Sometimes we really must sacrifice SOMETHING. If gas consumption in this country would drop by about forty percent you can bet your butt that prices would drop. As for the political thing....well me and my Senator and Congressman are about to become well acquainted and as far as this Presidential election goes...The very next time some political fanatic calls me on the phone and demand I vote for his or her candidate for President I am going to tell them to shove their party line so far up their ass that when they fart it will play the tune, Yankee Doodle Dandy! Thank you. I may just vote for Barr |
ID: 1099204 Title: Invalid Item Description: This item number is not valid. By: Not Available. I was looking back over my first blog this morning, enjoying the wonderful comments, and just remembering the moment represented by each entry when I came across something that gave me pause. In one of my last entries of that blog I had highlighted seventeen blogs by some talented writers. Well I was shocked to see that of that seventeen, six of them were listed with the above heading...."Invalid Item"...."by: Not Available". Six talented writers no longer members....gone. That, to me, is a very sad thing. The last entry to that first blog drew 31 comments and of those thirty-one, four showed up as "Non-existent User". There was twice that number of commentators who had gone from a paid membership to a free one which does not allow one to blog...more loss for Blogville. Funny thing about Internet life....four years online is like a lifetime. People come and go very quickly; Interest waxes and wanes at a much faster rate than it does in real life. I can not help but wonder now where those "Non-existent Users" are and how their life is faring. Where will we all be four years from today, what will we be doing with our lives? Will we still be dreaming of writing that bestseller? I have said, more than once, that there are perhaps ten or twelve writers whom I have encountered on this site of over 500,000 that have the talent and the presence to make it onto someones Best Seller List, so I will go out on a limb here and make one prediction. I believe that within the next year or so I will see Nada 's book on the New York Times Best Seller List. Judging from those Saturday entries which will form the backbone of her book, this is going to be a bestseller. She has the talent and the perseverance to do this thing and I fully expect her to be successful.How about the rest of us? Are we going to finally become what we have dreamed of becoming or will we simply become "Non-Existent Users" and maybe move on to a different "writers" site and start a new online "life". |
| As you can see, by my blog showing up today, I am now back online and virus-free. I was going to blog about the trials and tribulations of being without my computer and I was going to include my thoughts on the Wall Street melt-down but something more important came up. My good buddy, ccstring took up my challenge and has just posted his SERIOUS entry about the birth of his first child....."Invalid Entry" . If you really want to read a good blog entry today, go check out his effort, it was masterful. True to my word, I have already sent along 60,005 GP's to CC....yes Nada, your 5 GP's were included, but not the dang kiss...I ain't kissing that pervert. He wouild just enjoy that way too much. So that's all I got today....Go read CC's blog and leave him a comment, he has done a fine job answering the challenge and I bow to him this one time.....You win, Buddy! |
I would like to thank Kåre Enga in Udon Thani  for giving me a head's up on the latest news around Blogville. For those of you who have done one blog already and are on your second or third, as I am, go look at your old blogs and you will find a surprise: All the comments are back in our old blogs!!!I just checked my old blogs and there they were in all their glory. I am so happy not to have lost all those wonderful comments as I had feared. If the truth be known, those comments in my first two blogs, were far better than the blogs themselves. I have always held that my blogs are nothing compared to the wise, witty, and heart-warming comments that accompany them. LOL...so now if any of you so desire, you can now leave comments in ALL THREE BLOGS!!! Okay, that was a shameless ploy for comments....I know, I'm a bad, bad, man. Now two things before I cut this off and head for bed: First of all have any of you noticed how quiet old ccstring has been of late? I know how to make the man run for cover don't I. He just can't stand the pressure...never could. All I had to do was issue a challenge to him and he runs and hides like a little girl! HEY CC....I GOT THOSE 60,000 GP's waiting on your sorry butt...YOU BIG CHICKEN! Some dang defender of the Light he is....SISSY! Now for the most important thing....If all goes well I will get my wife back tomorrow!! Mel has been gone a week and I have been lost without her. She is staying over at my Sister-in-Law's house, taking care of her mom while her sister is in Chicago visiting her son. I am nothing without this woman and this week only served to remind me how diminished my world is without her in it. Okay...bed time. You folks have a good evening. |
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Sad to see you go, but glad to have kept up with you via OS. 
