I have lived in a exciting piece of time, being a baby boomer and growing up in the sixties. It was an era of mechanical technology in the United States of America.
Farming changed with the World and farms grew in size and versatility with displaced people moving to big towns and cities. We went from two row planters to sixteen row planters. One hundred or two hundred acres per farm to two or three thousand acres per farm, on the average. We've went from eighty bushels of corn per acre to two hundred forty bushels per acres with no irrigating needed.
The Worlds population has exploded and one of the ways to feed the population is synthetic foods.
Examples- Milk made from distilled soybeans, cheese made from soybeans and by products.
Meat production that takes grains that a human can eat will slowly go out of economical feasibility.
Instead I can someday see alternative crops produced to provide needed protein.
Example.- Variety of a Garbanzo Bean, or Russian Thistle, planted in the winter, grown and cut by early summer.
Dried in the field until the moisture content is forty percent. Put into vats to ferment with a special bacteria.
Heated to capture the alcohol for fuel.
The remaining product is put into a artificial digester and when it becomes ninety percent soluble is distributed to special silos that are one hundred feet in height.
Inside the silos are mindless mammal tissue masses that grow to fill the silos.
When the mass reaches a certain height, a door at the bottom is opened to harvest the bottom third of the mass.
The tissue mass slides to the bottom and continues to grow.
The process takes one pound of dry matter digested product to grow into five pounds of a human digestible product.
The product is ground, packaged, and sold as a protein burger.
Sound simple until some biocenologest creates a super cell gastric bacteria for better fermentation, and wipes out all mammals in the World due to inflammation of the Ileum, causing Ileus, inducing a slow and painful death.
Today that sounds like one big whopper. But in the future it might become a reality. Who knows?
| I think it is finally spring in South Dakota. The American Plum Bush is in full bloom. The apple, pear, and peach
trees are leafing out and starting to think about blooming along with the chokecherry bushes. The English Snow
Pea is coming up in the garden and in three more weeks the rest of the garden will be planted.
It will be warm enough to sit in the back yard and listen to the psithurism, [sith-urr-izm] - meaning the sound of
the wind passing through the leaves of the trees.
Hah, The sounds and smells of summer. The smell of steak on the grill, smell of green grass, and psithurism
all rolled into one symphony of summer.
Now this is what I would call a good Blog. Thanks for reading.-charlie55
|I've finished my weeks work this Saturday morning and am now completed with THE PRECARIOUS NEANDERTHAL.
What's left to do? Oh yea, my Blog. How about a whimsical oratorical, or maybe a pet peeve.
I'm sapped, my body hurts, and I'm brain dead. I think I'll have a beer. If you didn't notice I went for the second choice.
| What constitutes a good story? Mm, what a reader is interested in. Tragedy, good fortune, strong hero, heroine.
Subject matter like adventure, romance, history, people, or walks and ways of living.
Does a story always need to be original and new, or are there always bits and pieces of old stories and thoughts
in what is written.
In 1880 a little girl was born into this world, perfect in every way. But in a matter of nineteen months because of
a fever, became deaf and dumb.
Wait a minute! That's politically incorrect. She couldn't hear and was blind.
Her name was Helen Keller who grew to become an author and public speaker.
I don't remember if it was her first or second story she wrote that she was charged with plagiarism.
The court case based it's claim on the fact that with limited access to the outside world, the ideas that she wrote
came from books. The author of another book stated that she copied his book.
Now, the question arises, if a story can be improved upon, is it the first authors work or the second authors work?
I personally think it is the second author's work.
I love reading stories,[no I'm addicted to reading] and the other evening I found a love story that had every thing.
Tragedy, a strong hero and heroine, with a life altering experience. I gave it a ten.
Side note. I always analyze. I feel the author was a lady, because of a lot of attention to clothes, describing the
hero as a Keeper, filling a room with flowers, and manipulation, to help the hero gain his goals.
So what I'm saying is perspective from another's point of view is good.
If anyone wants to ex pound on my stories, please do. I'll back you up, one hundred percent.
| The other day I read where someone had asked an author to write a cat story, so she did. And it was very good.
Looking back in time I realized I had a cat story, and so here go's.
First with the setting.
I grew up with five sisters, milking cows. Dad said; To keep us out of trouble. Thinking back; He just wanted another
source of income.
Any way, when you milk cows, you've got cats. The cats were always in the allyway, that ran through the
center of the barn, with stanchions for the cows on both sides. The cats were constantly begging for milk and we would
pour some milk into their dishes when we were done milking a cow.[We also loved to spray the cats with a stream of milk
and see how high we could get them to stand on their hind feet to reach the milk, or even spray each other across the
Above was a hay loft, that in the spring of the year was always about empty except for the back wall.
Once school was out for the summer we had time to look for new baby kittens that the mother cats were having. Up
in the hay loft was one of their favorite spots to have a nest. One spring in between two square bales, was a nest with
nine baby kittens of all colors. [ white, gray, yellow and calico]
A few days after we found the babies, we saw two calico sisters nursing them and sharing in the mothering duties.
It was food for thought. Two sisters, loving each other and each others babies enough that it didn't matter who nursed
on who. Then a week later we saw the other side of the cat kingdom.
A roving TOM CAT came in and picked a fight with the tom cat that was the father. After beating up the home cat, the
new tom cat killed all the babies because he could.
Mom explained it to use like this; We're not animals. We have laws. Our laws are based on the idea that all men are
equal, and are to be treated like we would like to be treated. Respect your neighbors rights or you will be held
What a lesson down on the farm. Evil verses good. Love verses hate.
And I've never liked the phrase; He's out tom catting around.
| When someone came up with the idea of a Blog, I'm sure they were thinking; It would be interesting to know some of the highlights of a persons day.
Well I go to work and load some trucks with grain, or turn the computer on, punch in a feed order and hit start.
What I think about is something that happened in the past.
Today someone offered me a Mint Girl Scout Cookie and I said; I don't like mint. Then I told them why.
I lived on a farm, when I was a child, in the fifties and sixties. When I was about eleven my folks had to leave for a
week to go to a funeral.
They left my older sister in charge of me and my four younger sisters.[ It was in the middle of summer and hot]
All we had to do was milk the cows, plus do all the other chores. AND STAY OUT OF TROUBLE!!
My sisters at this time were into making home made ice cream, with mint.
Every day for five days straight, they made the ice cream and I turned the paddles. And we ate and ate and ATE!!
The fifth day I was green with green mint home made ice cream.
From that day on, mint is something I'd rather not do. Just one of those things.
NOW mint is a TRIGGER to bring back a FOND MEMORY.
Read the entry from the 02-23-14 first. Thank you
WHAT EVER IT TAKES could be turned into a long story if at MATILDAS MASSAGE PARLOR, the crazy old man had
been told to take the stairs to the second floor. In the second floor is a sanctuary for runaway girls and a lady that once
was a runaway herself.
She's healing and educating the girls. Giving him a purpose to live, they become the cops best weapons against the
prostitution rings in the city. There's a story here some where.
What's a man to do? Mom died last year and my daughters have been driving me nuts telling me I should sell the house and go to Assisted Living.
I maybe eighty three and OLD, but that doesn't mean I need assistances with anything. Well, maybe one thing.
Man is this embarrassing! Ma, my wife of fifty years cut my hair. When I say cut my hair I mean, everywhere.
I've been a vary hairy guy since I was young, and she liked doing this for me. It's been almost a year since she died and nobody should be this hairy.
Sure you say, what's a barber for? You don't even need to ask, because I did!
All I heard him say was; You need what, where? Forget it. I don't get paid enough. I've got plenty of business without
listening to this. GET OUT! Well he's not going to cut my hair again. I can tell you that!
So here I am in this cab talking to you. Maybe, you can help me? I've got Mom's clippers right here in this shoe box.
All I need is some assistance. Preferably a lady. I don't need no man looking between my legs. That would be
embarrassing. Unless of course he was a barber. And I guess those guys are ethically challenged. You got any idea's?
A massage parlor? Isn't that something like a Brothel? I mean you think they might? Well lets go. It's downtown?
And it's how much? Would you take a check? Will you wait while I ask, and then take me back to my bank?
Great! I appreciate this. You're a good buddy. You think this is the place? It does say: MATILDAS MASSAGE PARLOR.
Wait right here, I'll be right back.
Well I'm back. No, they say they don't do anything that personal. Their Liability Insurance will not cover something like
that. The lady gave me a number of a past employee that called her yesterday. Needs a job. Broke up with her
boyfriend and is at a Women's Shelter. She's got a child and needs someone to help her out.
I need to start living again! Yah! This might just work! Thank you my friend.
I never realized writing realistically would be so hard when one doesn't know a language, and trying to talk through an interpreter. Needless to say, an adventure in the Ukraine is not going well. Oh well. What ever will be, will be. Don't worry, be happy. Ka sira sira.