TERROR ALERT LEVEL:

This krep was posted:

OCTEMBER 2008
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All commentary Copyright Stonestead.com, 2007. No part may be reproduced without permission. All statements within are the express view of the author and not necessarily those of his employeer, his clergy, his spouse, his friends or even himself.

HA! I wonder how many Halloweens fall on a Friday. Well, one in seven and 4/7ths, I would guess right off hand. I'll have to check the math and get back to you on that. Still, custom-made for the occasion and only missing the full moon, right?

Of course the REAL tricksters among us realize that the new moon - rather than its 2 week younger relative - is the ideal condition for Halloween's appearance, but then how would you see those witches flying on their brooms if they don't make an E.T-like cross in front of the full moon?

And those of us who study the language know run-on sentences when we read them...

I remember my most mischievous of Halloweens; I think I was in 5th grade or so and it was arranged as a sleepover at Dwayne Phillips' house, (he had a really hot mom, so it wasn't a problem for me). As I recall, there were three of us, but the other guy didn't follow through on the sleepover so I don't remember exactly who he was.

We dressed in jeans and black shirts and - at my suggestion - blackened our faces with shoe polish. We then set out on our mis-deeds...

We encountered several bands of younger children, (how times have changed!), and would demand tribute in the form of a sacrifice of sugar-laden candy. Since you can probably imagine how scared they were to encounter some "older kids" in crime-ready outfits, they generally offered up the best of their loot. To which we would then reply, "Just kidding" and let them go on their way.

Some hoodlums WE were.

We did spend some time hanging out at the Stott Elementary playground and probably scared some others away from enjoying it, but I'm not sure that even counts as an unintentional misdemeanor. Although I do remember throwing dirt and grass into the sandbox, so maybe that counts as something.

We returned early-ish, without causing serious damage/fear in the general public and went to sleep late, (I think we watched "Halloween" on their microwave HBO connection). We then woke early, as his younger siblings were more than happy to come downstairs and throw themselves on us as we slept. We then realized a very frightening thing:

Shoe polish does NOT come off the skin easily. In fact, the skin itself comes off more easily, so the only people we terrorized were ourselves. Great plan I had there. Guess that's why that counts as my most mischievous Halloween. I mean, of all the brushes with the law and dances along the line I did - which you'll most likely never hear about - this was supposed to be my Big, "Breakout" moment.

Thank God it didn't go that way...

J.O.T.Y.

Q: Why don't ghosts have babies?
A: Because they have Hollow-Weenies!

Q: Why do ghouls always hang around with demons?
A: Because demons are a ghoul's best friend!

(My annual favorites. Happy Halloween!)

I voted today. This is not really an earth-shattering revelation since so many jurisdictions now allow early and loosely-defined-absentee voting that I'm surprised Missouri had all that trouble with the polls in aught-aught, (actually, knowing the truth of what actually happened, I'm not in the least bit surprised).

Just for the record, I voted in favor of all the '40' amendments and against all the '50' amendments - except 51. They struck a heartstring in me with a radio ad and I suddenly came over all gooey like. I also voted a straight 'R' line and against the retention of each and every judge.

Hey, one ticked me off once - unjustifiably - and I've voted against every one of them every time since. Which brings up an interesting point...

EVERY election year sees the same BS trotted out as "something new." There's the, "vote ALL the bums out!" crusade that inevitably rears its ugly head and I have to say that even given my stand against all the judges, this is a rather unsophisticated position and these advocates shouldn't be allowed to vote. Now let me explain why my stance against the judges is different and I should retain the right...

Most states have term limits laws, so "the bums" are guaranteed to be replaced by other bums soon enough. At least locally. The US House is just a 2-year term so the campaign for the next term starts the day after the election for the last. This generally keeps them pretty busy and only allows them to make fools of themselves on TV from time to time. As for the Senate? Well, when was the last time any of them did anything?

But judges rule for life. Unless voted out, that is - and then only on a local level. So let's remember the left's old saying of, "the political is personal" and start changing things at a personal level, right?

Another theme in politics - especially obvious this year is that of "change." So let me ask you this: duuuuhhhhhher? When THE HELL has a Presidential race NOT been about "change?!?" Even in the years when a sitting Vice-President is running and promising us 4 more years of what we just had, (NOT change), the opposition party is running and promising us "change!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (Dang - should've made that in bold.)

Excuse me, but "change?!?" Isn't that the brilliance of our Founding Fathers and the Constitution they crafted? That there would be limited power, no familiar line of succession and when the people wanted to change things they'd have that opportunity from time to time instead of being subject to the ongoing whims of a syphilis-ridden monarch and his offspring for time immemorial?

"Change" is NOT a new idea: just the TYPE of change is sometimes new. To those who would have to live under it.

So when the little o sends his irs stormtroopers to your door to collect your share of Soon-To-Be-Spread-About wealth, just remember to write your check with a smile. OH - and remember to write in a little extra to cover my share, because I'm going to do everything I can to reduce my liability. It's not that I'm "unpatriotic" - as Slow joe biden has claimed - (BTW - where's the matching claim that the dems who don't support the war in Iraq are unpatriotic? HMM?!? Can't find it? I thought not.) it's just that I think paying 35% of my income to the federal gubermint should pretty much cover my share.

And speaking of the war in Iraq, does anyone ever think about what's going to happen there if our troops are removed prematurely - that is, before the local forces are able to handle national security? You think the nuts are just going to say, "well, we lost that one. Better luck next time, blokes?"

Those voters are FAR to immature to vote. They should get on their knees and thank the Good Lord that they live in a country so great that it can survive their naivete...

I've also heard a lot of "I'm sick of the Republicans" coming from the electorate. I find this especially funny because the same pinheads who say this are most likely the ones who voted for the democat takeover of Congress in '06. Meaning that the people who voted OUT the R's in favor of the D's - and are ill-pleased with the results of that action - are again voting against their own interests and sense of satisfaction.

Something comes to mind about the definition of madness, but it seems to escape me at the moment...

So The Wif approaches me with a question late this evening. Those of you who own one can easily recognize the twin problems involved: first off, she's asking a question she could have asked hours earlier, so she's hoping to catch me tired and off-guard. Second, whenever they ask a question - just like an attorney - they probably already know the answer and are only trying to shock to life certain areas of your brain that they know have been dulled by professional sports, lawncare or whatever your particular hang-up is, (we have a strict "Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy here at The Stonestead so don't worry).

As she's tucking in D-Man she asks me, "what time will you get up tomorrow?" Now this may not be, "does my butt look big in these pants?" but it's fraught with its own dangers; what if I call in sick? What if I can't sleep and get up early? What if some kind of harmonic convergence causes the roof of our home to collapse on me as I sleep?

Well, I guess that's kind of like calling in sick, but still...

I tell her that I usually set my alarm for 6:22AM but with this new haircut, (I REFUSE to call it a 'do'), I've learned to take advantage of the extra time I don't have to spend combing it by sleeping and have started setting my alarm for about 6:30 or so. She continues:

'OK - so if I start "M's" laundry tonight I can get up at about 6:15 and shave my legs without throwing off your schedule?'

Thinking I knew what was going on based on what she asked, (BIG mistake!), I said, "well, you could just take a shower at 4AM when you come upstairs and go to bed."

She agreed, (ALWAYS a warning), and then quickly followed with, "But I don't shave my legs in the shower, you know."

Well of course I knew that. I always knew that, right? That's why I suggested it in the first place - because I knew that all along; because I live to be proven wrong. I must, because I'm MARRIED, after all.

This left me in the interesting place of having to make sense of what The Wif just told me versus the serious inclination to leave her to her own devices. But the other half of my marriage vows finds me leaning towards the idea of helping to streamline her problems instead of allowing her to complicate her self. It's called "enabling" in today's culture, but I asked the question anyway:

(Actual quote - because I considered it carefully before I spake of it), "I don't want to get too deep into this but I have to ask; if you DON'T shave your legs in the shower, why are you concerned about water availability?"

(Nearly actual quote - because I stopped listening fairly early into it), "The problem isn't the water, (proving my original point of NOT KNOWING THE FIRST THING ABOUT WHAT THE HECK SHE'S TALKING ABOUT -- OR the fact that perhaps SHE isn't being clear about what SHE's talking about), the problem is that if I don't get "M's" laundry in the wash I won't have the time to get my lazy butt upstairs to shave my legs."

I know, I know: it's the tragedy of our time...

And while the answer seems obvious to those of us cursed with the gift of procrastination, it's equally obvious to those here and to the Nike corporation:

Just Do It, Wench.

(I added the "wench" part, but I suspect most of you already suspected that...)

If this message finds you, it means that we have survived this weekend's activities. If it doesn't, it might mean that you have no Internet connectivity and should probably contact your ISP or local IT guy to get it fixed. Then again, if you're NOT reading this I can just call you names without having to worry about consequences.

You booger-breath, you...

(Please hold while I adjust my spell-check so it doesn't gag on terms like 'booger-breath.' ... Thank you. We now return you to local booger-related blogging...)

Friday night saw the arrival of two young lasses with the agreed expectation that only one of them would be left here come morning. And Hopefully it would be the one that calls this her home, but you never know with a houseful of women. Or at least I don't, but I'm old enough and experienced enough to know better than to think I know something.

Ok, it only barely makes sense to me, too, but that's pretty much what I mean...

6:30: two screetchy little girls. 6:45: three screetchy little girls but parents still around who had ideas about "taming" their own before they went to dinner, put the younger daughter to bed and enjoyed 2 minutes and 40 seconds of steaming-hot sex prior to passing out in a dead-cold coma and praying that their little one slept until at least 7:45 the next morning.

Well, ONE of them was praying that and it didn't really matter to the other, if my experience is to be a guide, (and believe me - you'd be surprised at my experience here).

So the good news is that everybody stayed and survived the night. The very first sleepover for each and every person involved: I tucked in early, (around 11:00) and left the gals to watch the flick as I prepared to be rested and beautiful for the morning. Which came FAR to flippin' early for my tastes, but then nobody asked me.

The french toast "thing" that The Wif prepared and I heated up? Of little success. The breakfast bars she left out to be consumed? Well, they didn't fare much better. I suspect them both to be regional delicacies, but still -- breakfast bars? Fruit wrapped in grains packed in colorful comic-themed plastic and sold at an 80% margin? Who hasn't heard of or sampled them?

Well, as this week starts out, two fewer girls. But that started as a rhetorical question...

Let me just say that Neil Simon was the KING of dialog. At least, he was the KING of all that was Holy so far as The Odd Couple was concerned. Brilliant, it was! "Nature didn't intend for poker to be played like that." And to pretend that THAT was the funniest line of the movie!

All in all, a GREAT flick; I may have to buy it before everything's said and done and the brilliance of what's "said" in the flick is what's said in the flick. The dialog is wonderful and I never realized that Walter Matthau was that thin.

Prince to be, I suppose; but I'm taking the evening off - as the the title has hinted at...

This month continues to advance at a clip which will not be ignored - just like all those other months do - but this one has some extra meaning attached: we need to buy pumpkins, (or 'punkies' as D-Man calls them). Not just that, but the spider needs to find a new home on the new home, (he has - pics to follow), and a birthday/sleepover is in the works before too very long.

Just imagine what December looks like for us!

So we're agreed on the generalities but the specifics? Well, we all know where the Devil makes his home, right? Much more to the point: it was always my design that "M" have her friends over AND the boys be allowed to wander in from time to time in order to induce a certain sense of chaos that simply can't be conveyed by Mommy dropping a cup of flour on the kitchen floor.

It lacks that sense of malevolence that can only be carried in the heart of younger brothers. And even though I'm an OLDER brother I can certainly appreciate what the Knuckleheads bring to the party.

Even if they won't. See, The Wif has already arranged for "M" and Bink to spend the morning with Grandpa, (no school this Friday), as D-Man goes to an appointment. Later, she'll drop off D-Man and pick up "M" - who will no doubt be counting the minutes until her guests arrive.

Actually, check that: I just remembered that there's a 'ween party at the day care that night, so she'll have to get ALL the kids from Grandma/pa's, come home and stuff some protein down their snack holes, get them into their costumes and I guess I can meet them at the school.

Or something. What the Hell do I know -- I'm just the paycheck Dad here!

At any rate, the Knuckleheads will be farmed out to Grandpa for that evening and I'll be here with a Limited Sense of Duties: I'll have to order pizza and stay out of the way. Oh, and then pay for the pizza as it arrives. The good news is that I already sleep with earplugs, so THAT won't be anything new.

Heck - I may even get to sleep in, so don't nobody call with nothin'...

I've all but abandoned my little "table" to separate the themes/ideas that I go about presenting here - and for a couple of reasons: first off, nobody ever, EVER links to anything I do here so there's little point in trying to set aside my rantings as if they're something unique or worthy of linking to, so why provide a link, much less one that's tied to the web-style of 1998?

OK. In complete fairness I should say that Code Monkey has been known to link to a mid-point in my blog without actually doing so. And if HE can't put it all together what hope do the rest of you have?

(Actually, I only bring this up because I believe that I've missed CM's 'blogiversarry' and I have to do penance today. Penance consisting of re-subscribing to all the various "friends" I have online. But there's only ONE that I've shared a tee box with.)

Presidential Krep to follow: After all, we're just 2 weeks away. You didn't expect me to lay off this close to the finishing line, did you?

My vacation is over and I didn't even bother to go anywhere; Story of my life, when you get right down to it...

So it's Monday morning and I'll be where most of you are in that circumstance: at work. It's not like I had planned otherwise -- because I surely had. But I'll have to go into the office all the same.

Lucky me -- and lucky you, as it turns out. At least we have somewhere to go and collect a paycheck, right?

This day started early which is always a reminder of exactly how long a day can be, and when you go to a Baptist Church you're always assured of finding donuts and coffee in the lobby, and the five of us were sure to indulge.

But donuts are breakfast and we were in need of lunch. I had planned things out so that we would go to 'Donald's' before we showed up at our afternoon meeting, but of course MY plans are NOT the family's plans. And never will be.

As it turns out, we had to go home to change clothes. Especially "M," but especially me and certainly NOT the boys, since they would be allowed to wear their shirts for the rest of the day. Well, D-Man would, but not Bink. New shorts, one new shirt, a pull-up hither and yon and sometime in the meantime we'd get back on the road.

Is it any wonder that I heard, "...I just wish you'd listen from time to time..."?

Wanna guess the source?

Lunch was clown-tastic and the kids ran around in fine fashion. Here's an interesting experiment: "Kids! Stop playing so you can get in the car and go play in another venue!" Because that's pretty much what we did.

In what used to be a vast wasteland of cow pasture, (and I know because I used to ride my bike along the steaming piles), there is now a rec center. And that was our destination.

Of course, we were going with a purpose, and that was to meet the girls and Moms that would be in attendance at "M's" Birthday party/sleepover. And yes, I suggested the idea so I should probably seek professional help.

So about 93 minutes at an indoor playroom yielded two introductions. Let's hope The Wif got their phone numbers as well...

Two men were walking home after a Halloween party and decided to take a shortcut through the cemetery just for laughs. Right in the middle of the cemetery they were startled by a tap-tap-tapping noise coming from the misty shadows.

Trembling with fear, they found an old man with a hammer and chisel, chipping away at one of the headstones.

"Holy cow, Mister," one of them said after catching his breath, "You scared us half to death -- we thought you were a ghost! What are you doing working here so late at night?"

"Those fools!" the old man grumbled. "They misspelled my name!"

Just because it's 'Tis The Season and all. Pictures of my latest code violation to follow -- but only because I planned it out really, REALLY well...

I gotta be honest: my heart's just not in it today. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I spent ALL FLAPPIN' MORNING working on the computer in an effort to combine the old mail file with the new mail program, (half-way there!), or maybe it's due to the fact that I still have half a movie ahead of me and all night to watch it. Well, maybe not ALL night, because even though I'm on my own again tomorrow I still have certain expectations of myself which won't be well served if I don't get to bed sometime tonight. That is, before it becomes tomorrow.

But even before I got to this point it was a rather interesting evening: The Wif had gone with her sister, (who's in town this week), to visit their cousin in Fort Morgan. For those of you unfamiliar with Colorado's landscape that's roughly the equivalent of driving from Washington, D.C. to Toronto. Well, not quite, but it's rather a bit of time on the road all the same. This meant that I was responsible for retrieving the kids from day care as well as killing something and dragging it back to the cave for dinner.

I chose pizza. After all, they're rather slow and easy to spot since they really don't blend in well with any type of topography. Plus, the kids really love it - which is a story in and of itself, but one for another day.

Much pizza, cheese and noise later, the table is cleared, the kids are in their PJs, snacked, brushed and in bed. I think The Wif is always slightly amazed to come home and see things are under control, but not nearly so much as I am to see it all come together; those kids can be monstrous!

Did you happen to see this story? I personally don't think it was a staged event - although the barking moonbats out there are surely already saying otherwise - but if you want to talk about 'those politicians in Washington' being out of touch with the average American, well, this was the bromide necessary to prove otherwise. That's my girl!!

My hair is growing back at a pretty good clip and I may soon be back to using shampoo instead of just the Irish Spring. That's good news and bad news, actually. First off, I would never have guessed how much such a little thing like shaving your head can affect those around you; people rubbing my head, mourning the loss of my hair, comments from all over the spectrum and people doing double-takes only to go on to pretend that they notice no difference. It's been an interesting experiment.

Then again, having very little to no hair has actually been an advantage to me in several ways; I can sleep in an additional 8 minutes because my shower takes half the time it used to AND I don't have to spend 2 minutes combing it through. Plus, I can leave the house without showering at all if need be because my hair doesn't feel greasy and unwashed. On the other hand, even the slightest chill in the air amounts to me breaking out in the shivers because my melon catches the full brunt of it all.

So like everything, it's a mixed bag. I think I'll grow it out real long next - just because I can...

Let me just come clean about something: I have almost no idea what day it is. Holidays always do that to me, because it's usually a Monday off, then Tuesday telecommuting, then Wednesday back in the office and if ANYthing feels more like Monday than Monday, its a Wednesday masquerading as a Monday. The good news about that, however, is that the week is already pretty much behind me at that point and Friday feels like a gentle promise whispered on a warm, fall breeze. Or something like that.

To further complicate matters this week, I've taken the whole of it off, (some of you already know this and thankfully aren't holding it against me). Yep - Monday through Friday without having to report to the office or even open the laptop, that's me. Of course, it means that I have to rely first on the TV schedule and second upon writing this stuff to try and figure out what day it is, but that's a small price to pay, really.

So what am I doing with this precious time? Well, strangely enough, I'm suffering from a severe gout attack. Sheesh: years ago a friend and co-worker told me that the body starts falling apart at 40 and I just laughed. But lately? Last week saw a severe asthma attack, then something that felt like a heart attack, followed by a sinus attack and now the gout wants a piece of me. I have one question: When's the Ice Cream Attack?!?

At any rate, the gout had a grip on me like it never had before. Saturday morning, as I was pulling a sausage croissant out of the freezer I couldn't help but wonder, "Why would I have gout?" and then I put it back and had a plain English muffin instead. I went online and researched home remedies, (given that it was the weekend with a Monday holiday to follow), and found that cherries, naproxen, nettle tea and baking soda water have all been reputed to help. I tried them all. Truth be told, if I had found someone who said that I should shove a ball point pen up my fundament and allow the ink to soak in, I would have given it a try.

Then, after two days suffering I decided to install the new garbage disposal - with my toe in absolute agony. (Why does so much of my life sound like a bad Japanese game show? ...and now, you must install this disposal with your right foot in a vise and while wearing a blindfold. Points will be awarded for the most original swear...) I got it done and man, she's a beaute -- but what a pain.

Then today - er, rather, Tuesday - I went to my Mother-In-Law's to see what I could do to help her out, even if I already had a pretty good idea. I brought my world-famous Jump Start system because her van, (soon to be ours, God Forbid), wouldn't start. All of which meant that my first job was much easier than my next: running cable into her room.

Now, there was a cable drop in the room just down the hall, but the attic gets dangerously narrow on that end of the house, so it didn't look promising. In fact, I put a nail well into my scalp at one point and the blood was flowing so freely that it probably added another 'R' value to their insulation. So another option had to be found.

Fortunately, there was a cable outlet in the basement, and even more fortunately the basement has a drop ceiling with acoustic tiles. All I had to do was find the wall to her room, drill up through the floor and run the cable. Piece of cake!

The thing is, drop ceilings and acoustic tiles are great places to hide things. And if you're hiding things then by definition you don't want anyone else to find them, right? But what if the dutiful son-in-law comes by to help the widow watch TV in the bedroom and unearths those "things?" I mean, what if he LITERALLY gets hit on the head by certain treasures hidden and perhaps forgotten long ago? And if not forgotten, certainly the hope was that as he took the secret to the grave, so too would everyone else be long gone before they came to light.

In re-reading that I realize that I'm making far more of this than I should - or at least it sounds like I am. It was really not a big deal at all and I was slightly amused by the whole thing. But not enough to share them with the home's current owner nor either of her daughters. I figure I owe him that, at least.

But then, while I was looking for the various tools I needed to complete the job, I came across a box that claimed to be suckers. Wondering if it held drill bits or side cutters, (there really was NO rhyme nor reason to the arrangement of his vast tool collection), I found a box of correspondence. Letters and cards he'd received through the years from family and friends, most long-gone, I imagine.

Curiosity got the best of me and I looked at a couple; cards addressed to 'PFC' stationed in Montana. Christmas cards from cousins. One with a note addressed to 'gramps,' (LOOOONG before he was officially a Grandfather), which simply said, "now I know what you mean about being free." A message that meant something to him in the day, but absolutely nothing to me.

And then it hit me: here was a box of letters he chose to save because they meant something to him. I was standing in the midst of a rather impressive collection of beer cans which was his life's work hobby. I was using his tools to work on the home he left behind, but that's all they were to me -- tools to get the job done.

All of these things which meant so much at one time, only to have the meaning die with him. All that effort, all that attention to detail and yes, all that pride of accomplishment, all for naught. It was more than a little humbling, frankly. Nice for a bit of perspective, but otherwise rather dreary.

It also helped remind me of the year my Mother-In-Law has had: she lost their dog, her Mother and her husband of 42 years. Maybe that's why she was so grateful to me for doing the little things I do to help out. I know that's why I do them...

Sorry 'bout that, but there it is. Here, let me make it up to you. Be sure to hover your mouse over the 'toon to get the full effect.

I've left it to your imagination before. I've hinted at it without actually coming out and saying it. But this time it has to be said:

I told you so.

(MAN but that felt good!)

When I first started on the Debt Is Evil bandwagon people thought I was crazy. I heard things like, "your poor wife," and "you've ALWAYS got to have a credit card" and other such nonsense. It was all laughed off and eventually all the way to the bank, because I had ACTUAL MONEY to deposit!

But of all the things I got upbraided for, the most vitriolic attacks came when I suggested that not everyone should own a home. "Build equity!" I was told. "Best Investment Ever!" I heard. "Flushing Money Away!" they said. But I held firm to my belief that not everyone was suited to home ownership.

And now my belief has been borne out as fact: NOT everyone should buy/own a home. There are some out there who for whatever reason - low income, irresponsible lifestyle, poor money-handling skills, et al - simply are not ready to buy! I'm sorry the entire world's economy had to come crashing down around our shoulders in order to prove me right, but you gotta do what you gotta do...

(And, for the record, I don't believe that things are as bad as some people seem to think they are. The markets corrected downward, rebounded today and will likely correct down again tomorrow. I think what we're seeing is largely the combined result of politicians dying to look like they're doing something and the dumb-arse empty heads in the LSM whipping people into a frenzy over something they truly do not understand.)

Which brings us to the bailout and my opinion on it. I'm ambivalent.

Thanks for coming, folks! Drive carefully!

Seriously, as a taxpayer I have NO interest (no pun intended) in owning a part of various failed banks and investment houses -- especially if they intend on allowing the same incompetent (at best) execs continue to run the place. And congress? Why would we look for solutions to this problem from the very people who caused it?!? Mr. Fox - all our chickens are either dead or missing and we're counting on you to get to the bottom of it. Please guard our new chickens for us.

What a brilliant idea...

On the other hand, there is an argument to be made that should this number of defaulted mortgages enter the foreclosure market it will depress prices across the board for a number of years. Not to mention the fact that the forced lowering of standards by the democrats in congress was responsible for much of this mess in the first place. So maybe it should fall to congress to solve it. Problem is, congress doesn't play with their own money; they play with ours and they play fast and loose with it.

So I guess I can see most sides of the thing and in the final analysis I'd have to say that I'm against the bailout. It's always a bad thing when you remove natural consequences from human behavior, (and there are plenty of examples of that from any number of other, societal areas). Besides, I have full faith in the market and Adam Smith's 'invisible hand' instead of harry reid's heavy hand...

IN 1492

In fourteen hundred ninety-two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

He had three ships and left from Spain;
He sailed through sunshine, wind and rain.

He sailed by night; he sailed by day;
He used the stars to find his way.

A compass also helped him know
How to find the way to go.

Ninety sailors were on board;
Some men worked while others snored.

Then the workers went to sleep;
And others watched the ocean deep.

Day after day they looked for land;
They dreamed of trees and rocks and sand.

October 12 their dream came true,
You never saw a happier crew!

"Indians! Indians!" Columbus cried;
His heart was filled with joyful pride.

But "India" the land was not;
It was the Bahamas, and it was hot.

The Arakawa natives were very nice;
They gave the sailors food and spice.

Columbus sailed on to find some gold
To bring back home, as he'd been told.

He made the trip again and again,
Trading gold to bring to Spain.

The first American? No, not quite.
But Columbus was brave, and he was bright.

Maybe I'm just a nostalgic old codger, but isn't that nicer than having to add an asterisk saying, 'however, some indigenous peoples today believe that Columbus was the source of slavery, pestilence, famine, clear-cut foresting, global warming -- in short, the fountainhead of all misery the world is currently experiencing'?

I can't vouch for how many of these are accurate, but some of them are pretty darned good...

Chicago Cubs outfielder Andre Dawson on being a role model: "I want all the kids to do what I do, to look up to me. I want all the kids to copulate me."

New Orleans Saint RB George Rogers when asked about the upcoming season: "I want to rush for 1,000 or 1,500 yards, whichever comes first."

And, upon hearing Joe Jacoby of the 'Skins say "I'd run over my own mother to win the Super Bowl," Matt Millen of the Raiders said, "To win, I'd run over Joe's mom too."

Football commentator and former player Joe Theismann 1996: "Nobody in football should be called a genius.. A genius is a guy like Norman Einstein."

Oiler coach Bum Phillips: When asked by Bob Costas why he takes his wife on all the road trips, Phillips responded, "Because she is too damn ugly to kiss goodbye."

Senior basketball player at the University of Pittsburgh: "I'm going to graduate on time, no matter how long it takes."

Clemson recruit Ray Forsythe, who was ineligible as a freshman because of academic requirements: "I play football. I'm not trying to be a professor. The tests don't seem to make sense to me, measuring your brain on stuff I haven't been through in school."

Boxing promoter Dan Duva on Mike Tyson hooking up again with promoter Don King: "Why would anyone expect him to come out smarter? He went to prison for three years, not Princeton."

Stu Grimson, Chicago Blackhawks left wing, explaining why he keeps a color photo of himself above his locker: "That's so when I forget how to spell my name, I can still find my @#%#%@ clothes."

Shaquille O'Neal on whether he had visited the Parthenon during his visit to Greece: "I can't really remember the names of the clubs that we went to."

Shaquille O'Neal, on his lack of championships: "I've won at every level, except college and pro."

Lou Duva, veteran boxing trainer, on the Spartan training regime of heavyweight Andrew Golota: "He's a guy who gets up at six o'clock in the morning regardless of what time it is."

Pat Williams, Orlando Magic general manager, on his team's 7-27 record: "We can't win at home. We can't win on the road. As general manager, I just can't figure out where else to play." (1992)

Tommy Lasorda, Dodger manager, when asked what terms Mexican-born pitching sensation Fernando Valenzuela might settle for in his upcoming contract negotiations: "He wants Texas back." (1981)

Darrell Royal, Texas football coach, asked if the abnormal number of Longhorn injuries that season resulted from poor physical conditioning: "One player was lost because he broke his nose. How do you go about getting a nose in condition for football?" (1966)

Steve Spurrier, Florida football coach, telling Gator fans that a fire at Auburn's football dorm had destroyed 20 books: "But the real tragedy was that 15 hadn't been colored yet." (1991)

Jim Finks, New Orleans Saints G.M., when asked after a loss what he thought of the refs: "I'm not allowed to comment on lousy officiating." (1986)

Alan Kulwicki, stock car racer, on racing Saturday nights as opposed to Sunday afternoons: "It's basically the same, just darker." (1991)

Lincoln Kennedy, Oakland Raiders tackle, on his decision not to vote: "I was going to write myself in, but I was afraid I'd get shot." (1996)

Frank Layden, Utah Jazz president, on a former player: "I told him, 'Son, what is it with you? Is it ignorance or apathy?' He said, 'Coach, I don't know and I don't care.'" (1991)

Shelby Metcalf, basketball coach at Texas A&M, recounting what he told a player who received four F's and one D: "Son, looks to me like you're spending too much time on one subject." (1987)

You may have noticed that I've gone rather light on the politics lately, and for good reason, I might add; I simply can't imagine this country electing a corrupt, inexperienced Chicago hack lawyer who has built his life associating with the most vile of racists and so-called "american" terrorists who bombed American police and military. I mean, is the threat from without so miniscule that we're ready to take on our own homebrew now?

And that's before you get to his preposterous notion of 'cutting taxes' for 95% of taxpayers, considering that the bottom 50% of "taxpayers" don't pay ANY TAXES AT ALL!! How do you cut NOTHING?!? And how about the magic he has to work in order to raise taxes on businesses while keeping jobs in this country? What's he gonna use, pixie dust? To say nothing of his health care plan. You proud of the job Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac did managing mortgages? You'll love it when the government gets control of your health care. Think it's expensive now - just wait until it's free...

So no, I just can't see it happening. Not if the American voter wakes up, stops watching katie, chuck and brian and reading the new york times. (And if you read any major daily, you're reading the new york times, BTW.) So it's just not news to me that the little o is unelectable outside of the corrupt Chicago machine.

So instead I give you some things that were news to me. Incredibly bizzare news. Now THAT'S a story ripe with possibilities, so I'll just state the obvious one: can you imagine how quickly I'd have run out of limbs as a teenager?

No, I don't think you can...

Something about this story doesn't add up. And that something is everything. Some drunk on a plane just randomly decides to tape up two girls' hands? Why - did he think he'd just step off the plane? Well, it turns out he did and was only arrested much later, ("investigative delay" the police claimed; sure). And didn't someone see what was going on before he got that far? And what of the struggle - was there one? Why didn't at least one of the girls scream their heads off or smack the perv over the head with the in-flight catalog? Heaven knows they're heavy enough to at least rattle his dental fillings.

I'm sure there's more to this story but I doubt we'll see the end of it. Not with the industrial negligence so rampant in the LSM today. And I know this for sure: if anyone tries something like that with any of my kids they'd better hope that I've got a trigger lock on my Beretta, and I won't. But it won't matter, because nobody is going to outrun my 125 grain jacketed hollow points.

All 16 of them...

Once again - as is our custom here - I'm going to tell you to not bother seeing a movie you weren't planning on seeing in the first place. Hey, I'm saving you time you weren't going to lose! That's gotta count as a public service or something, right?

At any rate, Today's first flick flop is Hatchet and it's every bit as interesting as you might imagine. It co-stars Robert Englund of Freddie Krueger fame. If by "co-stars" you mean he spends a total of 6 minutes on the screen. I guess when you're an "icon of the genre," that's exactly what it might mean.

As you can see at that link, it involves an 'urban legend' of a sort who has come back from the dead and he's not as happy about that as you'd think. The story is about 2 friends who leave Mardi Gras to go on a haunted swamp boat ride. Things go horribly wrong, (because if they went perfectly there wouldn't be a movie), and the entire tour group becomes grounded on a rock. Then ground up.

It's as gory as any movie I've ever seen but that's not saying much since I prefer horror to gore; it's the usual stuff with lots and lots of entrails and blood, but I have to admit that it's the first time I've ever seen a belt sander used as a murder weapon in ANY movie. Still, that doesn't make it worth seeing.

Anyway, one by one the tour group becomes swamp fertilizer and then it blatantly steals the ending from Friday the 13th. Which I'm about to share with you because I can't imagine a single one of my known readers will bother with this one:

The two survivors are in a rowboat, resting after their ordeal and quietly congratulating themselves for surviving. At this point I was half expecting it to end with the two of them starting their own haunted swamp tour business but I knew better. The ghastly undead thing suddenly leapt from the water and pulled one of the good guys into the water. Their foot trapped in weeds, they are unable to get back to the surface or to reach the outstretched hand of the other one - still in the boat. Suddenly, the hand reaches lower, the other one grabs it and is helped back into the boat.

Only to learn that the creature has returned to the boat and has removed the arm from it's previous owner's body. Fade to credits.

Sorry if I ruined that one for you. I know it was right up your alley...

The other I watched recently was Imprint - one of the Masters of Horror series. The story here is an American is on his way to a Japanese Island inhabited by "only hookers and cutthroats." He is trying to track down a woman he knew years ago and had promised to return for. Enticed by the prostitutes at the local house, he finally asks for a woman who is basically hiding in the back.

She enters his room, turns and we see that her face is deformed; her right eye had a slight webbing over the corner and that side of her mouth was shaped like The Joker's. Attractive in a "what the heck am I doing here" way.

He asks her about the woman he's trying to find and she says that she hanged herself just weeks earlier. Distraught, he finally calms down (sake-assisted) and asks the Joker for a bedtime story. HER story.

In flashback she retells the story of her life, befriending a Buddhist Monk who gives her a certain appreciation of good and bad, heaven and hell, then being sold after the death of her father. She goes on to say that his girlfriend was abused after being accused of stealing the madame's ring. (Those scenes were gruesome, BTW.) She then hanged herself.

When he refuses to believe her, Joker re-tells her life story but with a few altered - very unpleasant - details which we again see in flashback, (her Father wasn't a sick man unable to work, her mother was an abortionist instead of a midwife and the monk taught her more than she wanted to know about hell). She now also claims that his girlfriend didn't hang herself, but Joker killed her to save her from this life.

Sensing that something is still left out of the story the man asks for the truth. A voice is heard telling her to do just that. She then asks her "Sis" if she should. The voice says yes and then her scalp seems to move a bit. After re-retelling her life story she introduces him to her "Littls Sister" and we learn that Joker has a second face on her head. Here things get all Japanese weird.

A small hand rises out of her hair on the right side of her face - above her deformities. It's bright red, about the size of a child's hand and it has eyes, a mouth and very sharp teeth. To make it even better, (How could it possibly get better?), the hand knows things. Like that the man killed his younger sister when they were kids.

You know - things...

Finally the hand-mouth spits out the stolen ring and in a fit of rage he reaches for a gun, (they were just lousy with guns in 19th century Japan), and shots Joker through the chest. She comments that she broke a nail or some other indication that perhaps a second shot isn't going to be any more effective than the first. Our "hero" then pins one round completely through the right side of her head, blowing off "sister" and dropping Joker like the Dow Jones.

The movie ends with him in a Japanese jail haunted by the various dead people from his life.

I think it'll get the Oscar®...

You know, I used to loathe Mondays. It got so bad that I started looking askance at Sundays, too, just because they seemed to be partnering up in an effort to ruin the beginning of my week. Well, that's changed a little; it's not like we're all best friends now or something, but things are looking up...

Last Friday was my day off so I spent it as I spend all my days off -- eating bon bons and watching Oprah.

HA!! Actually I spent the day avoiding contemplating my NEWEST! URGENT! REPAIR! around this place, (a new garbage disposal and completely re-installing the undersink plumbing, in case anyone cares about my trivial, stupid little problems) and trying to plan a dinner for the kids. Not that pizza and lasagne require a whole mess of planning, but the garlic bread is just murder.

See, The Wif had a hen party to attend which not only meant that she'd come home with her breath smelling of strange things, (which was in itself strange because it was a candle party), she'd spend WAY too much money, ($326.89 for a melon baller?!?), be home far too late, (9:15 -- are you kidding me?!?) and I'd have to prepare dinner and shepherd the kids through their nightly routine.

Which is cool with me because I sometimes think I don't get to spend enough time with the kids, so a little bit more is good for both of us. Remember I said that, OK?

Dinner went fine and yes, tomato sauce covered with cheese will support life. After dinner we watched some kid-themed media and then finally went to bed. Especially Daddy. I think the word is "collapsed."

Saturday has now become the traditional, "going to Mom's house" for The Wif and she's gotten in the habit of taking one child with her on a strictly rotational basis. And if you don't work in personnel you can do the math and figure out that means 2 kids are left with me. This Saturday was "M's" day to go and that left the knuckleheads at home.

Or rather, at Wally World, because that's where we went. Now, if you've never had the joy of taking 2-year and 3-year old brothers through the store - or for some reason can't imagine it to be a trying task - have I got the kids for you...

Sunday was church - always a great time, BTW - shopping for an ugly rug and trying to get home in time for naps. Then The Wif had to drag herself back up the mountain so she could hostess for a shindig. That's right -- another day, another meal I'm responsible for. But that's OK, because we still had some leftover lasagne.

So that part about not getting to spend enough time with the kids? Well, that's still true. But just not today...

AFTER ALL THAT...

Well, just in case you're into asking stupid questions, no, I did not watch the debate. Wanted to -- thought it would be well worth my time, but just couldn't find any, thankyewverymuch.

(We should announce at this time that we're going to disable the comma on the keyboard for the next 'graph. Thanks again.)

Everything I saw or heard from the debate already told me what I already knew; Slow joe is no match for Sarah. Not even close. Not in any forum in any place at any time. With the possible exception of inflating a hot air balloon without propane tanks. That he'd win.

Sarah ROCKS and for reasons that the LSM will never, ever understand: she's not one of them, isn't trying to be one of them, doesn't care that she's not one of them and is happy - quite obviously so - in her own skin. And it's about time we get to see such a thing in modern politics.

As for McCain, I'm happy to see him start to understand that nice guys do in fact finish last. Not to say that I want him to start ad hominem attacks or name calling; he doesn't have to go that far to get the truth out.

And as someone much smarter than me once said, the truth will set you free...

The Wif was at church tonight - which is a sentence so fraught with danger that one barely wanders into that territory unguarded - and she returned home just minutes ago.

Which is SO much more scary than what I just said that I'm afraid to go any furhter...

HA! The fun I have at The Wif's expense! Is there any question that I have it at my own expense? Is there any doubt that somehow the children are invoved?!? Is there even a doubt that what I carried myself is meant to be carried elsewhere?

I seem to be laughing at things that I shouldn't be, as well as things which call themselves, "Carpetmasters" and the like.

We'll get to the more important stuff later. Like next week. Maybe...

For now, let's laugh or groan or whatever it is we do at this time as we head into the weekend. Here's my addition to the effort...

A guy walks into a bar and asks the bartender if he will give him a free beer if he shows him something amazing. The bartender agrees, so the guys pulls out a hamster, who begins dancing and singing "Tuff Enuff" by the Fabulous Thunderbirds.

"That IS amazing!" says the bartender and gives the guy his free beer.

"If I show you something else amazing, will you give me another beer?" The bartender agrees, so the guy pulls out a small piano and a hamster and a frog. Now the hamster plays the piano while the frog dances and sings "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" by Bachman-Turner Overdrive.

The bartender, completely wowed, gives him another beer. A man in a suit, who's been watching the entire time, offers to buy the frog for a princely sum, which the man agrees to.

"Are you nuts?" asks the bartender. "You could've made a fortune off that frog."

"Can you keep a secret?" asks the man. "The hamster's a ventriloquist."

 

So we all have our ways, then?

---

Oh, how to start this one? Well, how about let's just keep things simple, short, to the point and uncomplicated, Ok? So would you buy a used car from this man:

No? Not even if he promised that he was NOT in fact smoking crack and his eyes look like that due to allergies and trying to guess/evade the flash that he knew was coming? REALLY??!? What are you, some kind of racist?!?

Well if you can't already guess on your own, I've long ago decided that this isn't exactly the most flattering picture of your author and host. We can all say 'DUH' together; one, two, three...

But here's the interesting (to me) question that's come up recently: have I EVER posted a positive image of myself here? Seriously; have these pages ever been "graced" by some replica of me that show me in some positive light? The answer, I've concluded, is a rather large, "NO!"

Which is fine and rather by design, if you'll pardon the rhyme, (excuse me - but those kinds of sentences only grace your step once in a blue moon). So I'm indifferent to who has to say what about how I look where. Don't care, (again). Can't be bothered, frankly. And if my kids learn that it's OK to be different because nothing that nobody says means nothing anyhow to anyone -- well, I'll count that as a lesson in my favor.

But what about this?!?:

Ahhh - following in their Dad's footsteps. As unfortunate as that may be for the moment...

---

OK - I'm going to miss a deadline. And this is one I REALLY can't afford to miss, so this will be brief.

You're welcome.

As the boys advance their lines toward being potty trained I can't help but be reminded of the obama campaign. Well, that and the fact that I married a democrat and that means that they can't dial my cell fast enough or often enough in their efforts to try and get her registered and/or active in their campaign for the little o.

(Someday I'll scan the series of books that led to that title, but for now, it suits just fine...)

Well, it's not going to work: She's already so busy that she had to put the boys in daycare EVERY Wednesday so she could go back to work on one of them, so she's too involved in her kids' lives to invest even an hour in the effort to elect a marxist.

Besides, I heard it from a reliable source that these things happen all the time and the kids are none the worse for wear. After all, who's better qualified to look after kids than a minimum-wage employee who's less invested in your kids than the pants they decided to wear that morning, because finger-paints are on the calendar and they don't want to ruin a 40 dollar pair of chinos?

 

In other news, I'm currently bald. Hey - didn't see THAT coming, did you?!?

I shaved my head to prove a point and I hoped to have a picture ready for today but if you like, I'll have one ready for tomorrow. Of course, the hair will have started growing back by then, (given the fact that I'm at least partially Italian), and it will be active.

Which is to say that I have NO IDEA when my head will return to normal.

Whatever THAT is...