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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.

Let's kill this obnoxious week with fire -- or perhaps a decent joke, eh?

(First off, it's cracking me up that the remaining free car companies are just now starting to run their "cash for clunkers" ads just as the program is dying on the vine. Oh, but let's have the gubermint in control of our health care!)

(Also, in retrospect, "Wanted" was an OK movie, but she's still a skank. A skank with hope to reform, but you know, still a skank.)

Jack decided to go skiing with his buddy, Bob. They loaded up Jack's truck and headed north. After driving for a few hours, they got caught in a terrible blizzard. They pulled into a nearby farm and asked the attractive lady who answered the door if they could spend the night.

"I realize it's terrible weather out there and I have this huge house all to myself, but I'm recently widowed," she explained. "I'm afraid the neighbors will talk if I let you stay in my house."

Don't worry," Jack said. "We'll be happy to sleep in the barn. And if the weather breaks, we'll be gone at first light." The lady agreed, and the two men found their way to the barn and settled in for the night. Come morning, the weather had cleared, and they got on their way. They enjoyed a great weekend of skiing.

About nine months later, Jack got an unexpected letter from an attorney. It took him a few minutes to figure it out, but he finally determined that it was from the attorney of that attractive widow he had met on the ski weekend. He dropped in on his friend Bob and asked, "Bob, do you remember that good-looking widow from the farm we stayed at on our ski holiday up North?"

"Yes, I do."

"Did you happen to get up in the middle of the night, go up to the house and pay her a visit?"

"Yes," Bob said, a little embarrassed about being found out. "I have to admit that I did."

"And did you happen to use my name instead of telling her your name?"

Bob's face turned red and he said, "Yeah, sorry, buddy. I'm afraid I did. Why do you ask?"

"She just died and left me everything she owned."

Not quite the ending you expected, eh? Still, I liked it. Have a good weekend, y'all...

In case you haven't already come to this conclusion, I'm extremely busy working on other projects just now. Moving users' data from server to server - namely San Fran to Los Angeles - one at a time. Then I have to go in and change a setting so they'll be able to find their documents. Because they seem to want to be able to do that.

Silly humans.

So I spend most of a day trying to move things from North to South for a user, then move on to the next user, (such is my life), then inform them that they're going to have a "U:" drive instead of an "I:" drive. This is enough change to drive most of them into Tazmanian Devil Mode, so I also have to send an exhaustive email trying to explain the change they're going to see.

Fortunately, I'm a student of human nature and understand that if you explain the good points of what's to come you can sometimes gloss over the bad things, ("somebody always loses data." "There's always at least one machine that doesn't work." "Sometimes things burst into flames."), but that doesn't always get the job done.

So I've been telling them that this move will speed things up. It will. I've been telling them that data will be backed up locally, be much quicker and if they should need a file restored, it should happen almost immediately. It will. I've also told them that they no longer need to handle a tape on a daily basis. They won't.

So the main difference between myself and another public employee who can't seem to keep himself off of television? Well, I can tell the truth to those I affect. Page 16, y'all...

This is courtesy of Townhall.Com, which is just the very BEST collection of Conservative thought out there. Additionally, well, you'll see:

So what's left to add? Well, if there were NOTHING left to add I'd have closed up shop long ago. Well, not so much. So allow me to expand a bit...

President EmptySuit is going to EXPAND healthcare insurance but is promising that costs won't increase. Really? Can any one of you Kool-Aid drinkers explain THAT to me? How in the HELL can one of us say, "I'm going to drive an extra 45 miles this - AND EVERY SUBSEQUENT WEEK - but I'm not going to pay more for gas?"

Honestly - are you kidding me?

Further, I have a series of questions for those of you who still favor the "gubermint" ""Option."": Namely, WHY?

The poor are covered through Medicaid. The old are covered via Medicare. The young? SCHIP. Unemployed? Cobra. Some percentage of us actually PAY FOR our health coverage. So it boils down to this:

Where the HECK is the problem, exactly?

Well, I can't tell you the last time I was stung by a bee. Oh wait. Yes I can: TODAY! As you can see via the Twitter feed somewhere over there on the left, I was stung today. Through some lucky change of events the kids and I awakened a hive under the deck and they came out with Attitudes-A-Blarin'!

My Lovely Daughter and her play-date friend got away without injury, which is definitely for the best. My boys? Not so much; they both got stung on the left left leg and in nearly the exact same place. So they must be tasty there, I guess.

Following my First Aid training I checked to see if they had a stinger in the wound and they didn't. Which was more than fine with me. I then wrapped three ice cubes in two paper plates, (each), and asked the boys to sit still long enough to hold the ice on the stings. They didn't.

I then had to "deal" with the fact that they were both over their bee stings. OH, ME!!!

All fine and well until somebody had to go back to the same area to put things back where they belonged and, guess what? El Zappo; one of the little bastards got me right on the ankle. Again, no stinger left behind so we probably got out pretty easy, but it's usually difficult to tell.

The good news - and How Daddy Sold This - is that the boys killed two bees today. That's right, bees might sting and hurt, but the second they sting, they rip their own stinger out and it's like we've stepped on them anyway.

Other good news in this is that they're not allergic. In fact, you'd probably be hard-pressed to find their stings had I not already told you where to look. I mean, you can go to the doc and do the whole allergy test thing but seriously, who knows they're REALLY allergic until you have an "event?"

(Kind of developing on a theme, if you will...)

We had a play-date here today that developed into a dinner. Grilled chicken, corn on the cob and fruit. Lots and lots of fruit...

What I'm seeing is a little girl, further and further removed from her father and who is constantly moving away from the light. It's sad. It's very, very sad. And I have no idea where to begin. At one point this girl was calling me, "Daddy," but now? She barely notices me.

In two years, she won't even remember my name, even though I share one with her Mother.

Help(?)

UGH. I'm going to start with this so that I can get it over with and move on to what might be more palatable fare...

The little o has now claimed to have stood on the beaches of Hawaii as a young boy, waving to the returning Apollo capsules as they splashed down in the Pacific. Of course, on this 40th anniversary of the first manned moon landing, he was speaking to - and in the presence of - the 3 astronauts who were actually on the Apollo 11 mission.

Problem: The One Whose Time Had Not Yet Come was living in Indonesia from 1967 to 1971. NOT in Hawaii as he had implied. This means that there's NO! WAY! -- even in his fertile imagination of how great he is -- that he could have flown, Superman style, from Indonesia to Hawaii at a mere 8 years of age. Pure hooey, this is.

But that's the pattern I've spent a lifetime learning about how the left operates; if they've got little or nothing to offer, they merely attach themselves like a barnacle to the actual, heroic achievements of others. Here's the perfect example: "I was waving to you so I had a part in what you did!!". Sickening and pathetic.

Other examples come to mind - most notably hillary's "corkscrew landing" and her claiming to have been named after Sir Edmund - in the most egregious example of third-grade schoolyard boastery I've seen since I was in fourth grade. Of course, on the macabre side of this is the "channeling" of a dead infant done by no other than the Prancing Pony himself, john edwards.

But enough; I hinted that I'd keep it short so I'll wrap it up with this: those who have NO real accomplishments but yearn to either higher office, more power or the greater love and admiration of those teeming masses they hold in such great disdain have no choice but to latch on to something they "identify with" in someone/people who have actually DONE something. "I remember black churches burning in my state," when it never happened. "I remember President Nixon ordering us into Cambodia on Christmas Eve of 1968," a full month before Nixon was actually Commander-In-Chief. You get the idea.

I hope. Heaven knows that far too many of you just believe whatever this guy says instead of actually daring to check it out or -- *GASP*

I have come to the conclusion that every "Vision Center" just assumes that if you NEED glasses, you have already HAD glasses. I base this conclusion upon two factors: first, my sample of a single experience. Second, upon the fact that - even though every person in the place had to talk me through every step of my appointment/fitting - the chicky took exactly 12 seconds to look at me as I modeled my new glasses. No word about how to clean them. A quick warning about, "take your time getting used to them."No mention about when I should wear them and when I should not.

Well, OK; the last two kinda took care of themselves because after my first hour wearing them it felt like my eyes were being sucked through the lenses. Not to mention the fact that I'm supposed to wear them while reading and at the computer, but not for distance. This has been made painfully clear, (and I mean PAINFULLY), each time a child bursts through our bedroom door: I turn at the sound of the ruckus and my head explodes.

The Wif is not happy about the mess, frankly.

I'm getting the hang of it - it's amazing how quickly this designed creature can adapt - and am slowly learning to "remove" before I "turn." Not that I don't forget from time to time, but it's pretty rare now. Thankfully.

At swimming the other night, The Wif finally got the privilege of "meeting" Dennis. Some of you may remember Dennis as the subject of a tweet in recent time. Something like, "It's a good thing Dennis is taking swimming lessons, because I'm about to drown him." I wrote that while The Wif was getting her nails done, and she's involuntarily following me, so she saw that message.

And then she laughed at me.

Well, Tuesday night she finally got to see Dennis and note his behavior, (namely that of playing the role of Pinky Ring to MLD), and she finally agreed that he was a pain in the butt. But not before laughing at my various comments, admonitions to MLD and warnings to my parents to keep her close. For example, as my Mother walked her out of the pool area, they had grown a tail, (named "Dennis"). For some reason, they stalled out and I shouted to my Mother, "KEEP WALKING, GRANDMA!"

The Wif thought this was hilarious. For some reason that I'd like to strangle her for.

Again - WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH A FATHER TRYING TO PROTECT HIS DAUGHTER?!?

My only guess is that it's the time in which we live. And THAT'S the exact wrong answer...

When I was younger - and mind you, I'm neither proud of this nor boasting about it - I had a nearly fool-proof system, (witness it's perpetrator), for picking up girls. I once described it to Dood as "boiling frogs." Now, with the birth of the Interwebs and the general "information explosion" we've gone through in the last couple of decades, the technique is probably pretty well known. Back then? Obscuresville: population, us.

It is in the spirit of the latter that I proceed to describe how one would go about boiling an Amphibian-American...

The background is that - apparently - frogs taste best when boiled while still alive, (I'll take ANYONE'S word on that), but there's a problem; if you fill a pot with water, get it boiling and then toss the frogs in, they are (understandably) bothered by the temperature and then hop right out of the water/pot. (I guess you could slap a cover down over the pot, but if a hail storm broke out at the same time, you'd never know when the frogs were done!)

In order to get around this natural instinct, it becomes necessary to fill the pot with cool/tepid water and let the frogs settle in for a nap. Then, you turn up heat -- slowly. Slowly enough that the frogs don't notice the temperature change, (except for a slight accusing glance between themselves, perhaps), and they are then willing accomplices in their own dinner-being.

The implications and behavior modeling for "picking up chicks" is obvious: don't come on with all burners on full. Start cool, then turn up the heat. As much as guys joke about, "do you know where that skirt would look really good?", it's a turn-off, (or at least it was at the time - not so sure about today), because it's too much, too soon. Plain and simple.

(And frankly, I'd worry about a girl who went for such a line these days. Then again, I'm 43, not 23.)

This concept came to me the other day when I was reading news stories about the goings-on in D.C., and I noticed that the frog-boiling technique was no longer in vogue. Let me explain: the left in this country have been boiling frogs since fdr first said, "I feel a numbness in my legs." They propose legislation designed to grow, (and grow and grow and GROW) gubermint power, expansion, taxation and regulation. If it passed, well, mission accomplished. If it didn't pass, they'd go back, tone the proposal down a bit and try again.

If this were a flow-chart, it would be an infinite loop at this point...

Flash-forward to 2009. Enter King Barry I and his grand scheme to "re-make" the country. Given the frog cooking procedure outlined above, I have formulated President EmptySuit's plan to put cooked frogs on the table: first, get out the pot. Second, fill it with water. Third, fetch the big Cage-O-Frogs and place it next to the filled pot. Fourth, scatter gasoline around the kitchen and set it alight.

Seriously, can any of us remember - from either personal experience or even a history book - a single example of a President trying to so radically "transform" America in such a short time? Six months in and we've seen; Stimulus I, Bailout I, Bailout II, Car Management I, a start to Cap-N-Tax, Car Bankruptcy I and a start to Health "Care" "Reform." (If I've omitted anything - and I'm sure I have - please let me know what.)

WHY, OH WHY do we have to do everything RIGHTFRICKINNOW?!? How about we try a little of this or a little of that and then sit back to see what's working? Oh, the "media darlings" tell us - in those rare times they're able to get up from their swooning couches - that it's an "ambitious agenda" and that we should fall on our faces 5 times a day, facing D.C., and thank the Great Heavens that we've received The Wisdom of the Novice Of The United States. Sheesh.

The good news is that at least four senate Democrats seem to be questioning the "wisdom" of turning over such a large portion of our economy to the gubermint. And they have reason to be concerned; to wit:

Why does the little o think he can fool the American public into thinking that "high health care" prices add to the National Debt? Health care prices are a personal debt, not a National Debt! The only way some sucker would fall for this argument is if they make the "Medicaid" claim, but stick with me: Medicaid reimburses doctors and health care establishments on MEDICAID'S schedule. That is, if the market price for a toenail removal is 285 dollars, the care providers - should they accept Medicaid - will sign a contract to accept, say, 130 dollars for the same service. At this point it's STILL not a "National" debt, but a write-off for the medical organization!

So why does he think he's fooling so many Americans with this canard? Probably because it's worked so well in the past.

And by the way, what - exactly - is in this crazy takeover of health care? Does anyone know? Well, certainly not the chosen one; in a recent conference call with LEFTIST bloggers, he was asked about a provision in the house's bill that OUTLAWED the writing of new private health insurance policies. His answer? 'Well, I'm not familiar with that particular provision...'. Great, huh? Here's a bill that nobody has read, passed by the house and being considered in the "upper chamber" that's going to change our lives.

What particularly bothers me about this is that IT'S TRUE! On page 16 of the house bill, it says that if anyone should lose their health insurance or want to switch coverage, they will be unable to get private insurance if the public "OPTION" has already gone into effect. Got that? the "OPTION" isn't an "OPTION" at all, once he can ram this thing through the legislature.

(In a related note, we send these people to a well-paying, overly-cushy job to represent us in our nation's capital and they can't be bothered to do their job? I mean, maybe it's too much of a strain on barney frank's tiny brain to read and understand the entire text of an 1,100 page plus document, but the bozo couldn't even make it to page 16? Too bad that's the accepted norm these days.)

The good news - as I said above - is that there finally seems to be a swelling against the tide, if you will. But as a precautionary note: I'm a fed and several of you are as well. As such, there might be an inclination to believe that our care is above being tampered with. Guess again. What's going to happen once the "villagers" discover that our care - and those of the labor unions who are being spared the regulations - are the equivalent of us eating steak while they're stuck with Alpo? Think we might see a pitchfork or two along the way?

And what happens then? Will Captian 'O'blivious re-instate the "private option," or will he drag the rest of us into the same well? You already have that answer based on what he's already doing. He's not elevating the least of us to a new standard, he's trying to drag down the best of us so we can be organized into a "community."

And then get taxed to death for the privilege. Shameful.

This is one of those weeks during the year that I don't see a whole heck of a lot of The Wif. And just as well, because I'm pretty worn out after monster-wrangling in her absence. This time, she's busy preparing snacks for Vacation Bible School, (VBS) and it keeps her busy. Shopping, cooking, mixing, stirring, delivering, bossing the Church Hens around, (as a change from bossing ME around)... Most of you can imagine the drill.

After hearing her harrowing tales of war in the local grocery, I had a question. First, I should explain her trouble: she has to prepare snacks free of nuts and items that have been prepared in factories that have ever even had the word "nut" mentioned within its walls, (especially difficult in those buildings that once housed Erector Sets). No peanuts in the snack mix, no white chocolate chips, no doubly-robust ultra nut clusters.

I finally told her that I didn't understand all this nonsense. "After all," I said, "aren't we trying to introduce these kids to Jesus?"

If you're a woman, the look on your face right now is probably pretty close to hers at the time. As well as her female co-worker once I told her the story.

The good news is, I got the same baffled look from her (male) boss as I got from our Pastor once I told them.

If nobody quite knows what to make of it/me? I can live with that. But you already knew it...

First the good stuff: The Wif and I... well, let's back up a step or two: some of you will remember where you were eleven years ago this past Sunday and the rest of you are Dood. (HA! I kid because it's true I love!) Seriously, many of you out there were melting away in a hot, crowded banquet hall all those years ago.

That's right; Sunday was our anniversary. Which means that on Monday we started our twelfth year in wedded bliss. And it doesn't seem like a day over one hundred and four years. How time flies when you're taking out the garbage!

For those of you that were there, I'm still grateful for your presence and for those of you who will no doubt send well-wishes I'm grateful as well. Thank you all.

And speaking of "life happening while you're taking out the trash," I finally got to see My Lovely Daughter playing soccer tonight. She's actually pretty good at the basics and is absolutely AMAZING at certain things. For example, when she was winded she pulled back and played a pretty good defense. When she had energy was right up front advancing the ball and trying to pass to her teammates. Nice to see.

But what absolutely FLOORED me was how she was able to "get the angle" on the opposing players. What that means is, when the other team would get the ball and head towards her goal she was able to quickly and accurately calculate the angle that would over take the other player. Now, she wasn't always fast enough to get there in time, but you - or rather I - could see that she's a natural at geometry and physics. AND natural application of both. Very impressive from a seven year old.

The weather today was a real pain in the neck. Or, rather, just about 6 inches above my neck. It couldn't quite decide who was in charge; clouds rolled in, the wind had its turn and then, when the sun stepped out for a coffee break, it rained. Seriously, it rained for about 5 minutes at a time every 4 hours or so. Quick! Mr. Sun is away from his desk -- now's our chance!

At one time the sky opened and I was considering ripping up our deck to build an ark. As it turned out I wouldn't have even had time to find my hammer before the rain stopped. So we didn't get a ton of moisture all totaled, but it was more than enough to keep the corn, peas, pumpkins and roses happy, (I hope).

So far as the corn and peas go, the corn is threatening to take over everything and the pea pods are full and ready for the table. We should each end up with about 3 peas when it's all said and done. The pumpkins are going crazy and we actually have several, actual, real-life pumpkins growing. Bink's plant has escaped the 8' X 8' box everything lives in and has grown under the deck. Starved for light, that section of the plant is sending leaves up through the deck slats and I'm beginning to wonder if I should allow the kids out there to play lest the plant's tendrils wind around their legs.

Of course, with my luck it'll grow a Super Pumpkin under there that cracks my foundation or juts through the wood or insults my neighbors or something. Because it's always something. And given that segue...

After returning home from an adequate meal at CiCi's pizza, (The Knuckleheads were free! The Wif had a coupon! They paid US to leave! The food? meh.), I discovered that The Wif's closet had collapsed. Well, sort of; I installed this rack system in the closet when we moved in and for some reason the far side rail... just... fell off. This meant that the top rod - where The Wif graciously allowed me to hang 2 pairs of jeans and a handkerchief - fell seven feet to the floor. But just half of it. It also meant that half of the half-shelf below it fell to the floor. Thereby bending TWO brackets beyond reasonable use.

Off to Home Depot. At 8:10 on a Monday night following a LOOOOOONNNGG Monday-day. Then collect all the clothes, straighten the shelf, re-attach the bracket to the wall, put both shelves and rods back in place, then the clothes back. What a way to end the day.

That's also why you're not getting a health-care "reform" rant today. And I'll be reviewing my security cam footage to see which of you sabotaged the closet to avoid it...

Since it seems I'm the only guy around here who bothers to actually pay attention to what's going on in - and ON us from washington - let me ask a question: do all you little o supporters really believe in eliminating even the possibility of private health insurance? Guess what: if you support the so-called "public option" that's being touted today, it's going to be the only option.

Of course, there's also a push on for a bill to have legislators actually READ what they vote on, but that's been literally laughed off by a democrat leader, (I'm leaving things vague in the slight hope that it might spur a bit of interest). Guess what?

On page 16, Investors Business Daily discovered that if you already have insurance, you won't be allowed to change - or enroll - in another private plan. That's right: if you have private insurance, I hope you're extremely happy with it, because if you want to change, the only choice is the gubermint plan; you can't jump to another private insurer.

So much for "Open Season." Create a "Life Event" now so you can choose a plan that gets you to 62 and 1/2. Best you can do now.

Three guys - a Canadian, Osama Bin Laden, and Uncle Sam were walking together one day. They came across a lantern and a genie popped out. “I will give you each one wish, that’s three wishes total."

The Canadian said, “I want the land to be forever fertile in Canada. I'm a farmer, my dad was a farmer, and my son will someday be a farmer." So with a blink of the genies eye *POOF, the land was forever fertile.

Osama bin Laden says, “I want a wall completely surrounding Afghanistan so that no Infidels, Jews, or Americans can get in." Again with a blink of the genies eye *POOF, there was a wall around Afghanistan.

Uncle Sam asks, “I’m curious about this wall, please tell me more." "Well" says the genie, “the wall is about 15,000 feet high and 500 feet thick, it is practically impenetrable." So Uncle Sam says...

“Fill it with water."

Maybe on the cruel side, but still pretty funny, (as I see it).

So I went to the doc's and I'm now - currently - as I type this - wearing eyeglasses. Difficult, but not impossible to adapt to, even though they're giving me a throbbing headache at the moment. The good news is that they're just "reading" glasses and I only have to wear them while reading or am in front of a computer monitor. Anybody out there care to guess how often I'm NOT in front of a computer monitor?

Well, more than I thought, frankly. And how do I know this? Well, the glasses I'm now wearing that help me see the screens more clearly have a defined, dialed-in range with an obvious edge. Which is to say that my home monitor is right on the edge while my work laptop/desktop is well within that fence. Consequently, as I have about a dozen windows open between the two platforms the laptop stuff is much larger and more clear than my home monitor, which was sitting just beyond my range.

So I moved it closer. Seemed more logical than re-doing the whole appointment and prescription that I'd JUST received. We'll see.

Until then, I'll just carry my glasses, (along with my phone, inhaler, eye drops, keys, sunglasses and Carmex), (it's Hell to get old), and use them when I remember to or need to. Best I can do, to tell the truth.

Of course, I'm bald now so when I'm in front of a monitor or reading some material with my glasses on, I look like a Hell's Angel's accountant. And what a job that would be, no? Hey, Mauler - you're three months behind on your dues...

Some quotes that seem to serve a purpose, the test of time, or both...

"To be prepared for war, is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace." - George Washington

Now, this would seem to contradict the bumper sticker which bears the likeness of Einstein and says, 'you cannot simultaneously prepare for war and peace.' To which I - and George himself - say "Poppycock!" As long as a fight remains in the people, hope resides there as well. If you fight, there's always a chance you could lose. If you DON'T fight, there is an absolute guarantee you WILL lose. Makes it an easy choice from where I stand.

"Nothing so strongly impels a man to regard the interest of his constituents, as the certainty of returning to the general mass of the people, from whence he was taken, where he must participate in their burdens." - George Mason

This is a GREAT - but now meaningless - quote. Should ever our representatives/senators ever feel that they're about to be returned to the general population -- to drive their own cars, pay for their own home repairs, pump their own gas and secure their own teen-age sex toys, they might actually pay attention to those they pretend to represent. As it stands now, there is almost NO CAUSE for which an elected official would find himself 'returning to the general mass of the people.'

Short of death itself, but even robert byrd has gotten around that.

OK - bonus round! Guess which rabid, right-wing reactionary said the following and you'll win a special prize!! As a hint, I'm going to reveal that they were talking about the infamous "Roe V Wade" case which cemented the National right to an abortion. From there, you're on your own...

"Frankly I had thought that at the time Roe was decided, there was concern about population growth and particularly growth in populations that we don't want to have too many of."

So, who's the right-wing nutjob that said that? I'm serious -- prizes are involved BUT only if you can ask with a clear conscience WITHOUT Googling it first.

I just have to start by saying that I HATE when people abuse or misuse our language. Well, I should probably modify that because I'm a major offender in that particular category. So let me say that I actually enjoy when the language is twisted slightly (e.g. a double entendre or such), for comedic effect. A good larf had by all, that!

No, what I really despise is when language is used as a weapon to advance a particularly sinister political agenda. For example, the so-called "gay" "rights" movement: first off, they've managed to hijack the word "gay" while simultaneously shedding the (more technically correct) word, "homosexual." Then, they've attached the word "rights" as if it were a trailer following a truck and has always been thus.

Let me be as blunt as I possibly can here: I believe homosexuals have a right to live their lives the way they wish to. I believe they have a right to go about un-assaulted at all times. I believe they should be able to hold jobs and voluntarily insure anyone they wish to. I also believe that they should be able to explicitly state who can visit them should they be hospitalized and who can inherit their earthly belongings when they pass this mortal coil.

Guess what? Homosexuals already enjoy all these "rights," so to use the language in order to say you're arguing for something that's already in place is dishonest at best and perhaps evil at heart. Despicable at a minimum.

And so it is with the current, "health care reform" krep we see going on in D.C. these days. Can we first agree on the obvious? And that is that everyone - EVERYONE - in this country has access to "health care." By far most individuals and families enjoy their own policies, Veterans have the VA (if nothing else), the urban poor have inner-city clinics or they can, together with many illegals, visit an emergency room AND EVERYBODY WILL RECEIVE TREATMENT! If you are in America and need treatment, YOU. WILL. GET. IT.

Period.

So let's get past the "health CARE reform" canard for now, (we'll revisit it soon enough) and address the catalytic issue; some 10% of people in America don't currently pay for HEALTH INSURANCE. We can see the difference, right? I mean, the Insurance helps to pay for the Care, but you first have to pay for the insurance, so there's clearly a difference between those two.

And if you take the time to study the issue, (Why would I do that?!? The One is here to fix everything except the thrill in chris matthews' leg!!), you quickly learn that the largest group of the uninsured are 20-somethings who are both indestructible and poor and therefore have no need of insurance. For that matter, there are plenty of families within that 10% who also decide that health insurance is a waste of money. I know of a family from church who are uninsured: healthy as horses they are, and they've just decided that times are tough enough - and they're tough enough - to just skip the insurance. (Heaven knows their boy is big and strong enough to break every bone on the football field before anyone could scratch his fingernail.)

After the "indestructible" majority in the "40 million uninsured Americans," (which is growing larger every day; has anybody else noticed how the number of homeless shrinks under a democrat President but the number of 'uninsured' grows? They're now talking about 50-60 million uninsured. How curious?), the next largest group is illegals. These are the people who don't want to buy insurance because -- DUH! -- they don't have a valid SSN, so their primary care physician is the Emergency Room.

After that, things get splintered: we go from a small minority of special-needs adults who don't qualify for insurance (the ones that we should be helping), to liberated orphans, (the ones we should be helping), to the transitionally-unemployed, (the ones that will help themselves). A small - no, TINY - minority of the 10% club.

And here's another "guess what?": They're covered. All of them. The first two groups, (and any similar), are covered by Medicare, (I know this first-hand: Medicare is the secondary coverage for my kids). Those who lose their jobs can opt for COBRA and thereby extend their coverage until they can make other arrangements.

And don't tell me that it's too expensive: for a time I was covered by COBRA and yes, it cost some, but that's the decision we made at the time. Good thing, too: my daughter suffered a rather nasty break and it cost us five dollars out of pocket. It was what some people call "a good deal."

But let's get back to the theme: the abuse of the language. In this regard I have to say that for the very first time, the little o's administration is finally being honest. That is, whatever issue people have with health CARE in this country really isn't the problem, but he's bound and determined to fix it anyway.

The easy answer would be to offer tax breaks/credits for buying health INSURANCE, but letting us keep more of what we've earned would go against the little o's core values, (if there are any). So instead he promises health CARE "reform" that would drastically change even the treatment of the common cold. Even the old bromide of "take two aspirin and call me in the morning," would have to be run past the Health Care "czar" and the patient would likely be dead before an answer would be forthcoming.

Yeah. Just what we asked for. Well - most of you did, anyway...

Soooo, swimming lessons, (every Tuesday and Thursday night at the "swinging pool"), ended last week. Which was a good thing, because classes started at 6:15 when dinner usually started at 6:00. And then, after swimming, it was bath night. But before baths we would have Supplemental Dinner - which consisted of a small portion of protein - in order to replenish the calories they burned off in the pool.

My life: complicated, she is.

Well, the swimming classes ended last Thursday. And the next - more complicated - round starts tonight: My Lovely Daughter will start at 6:15 (the same as before). My eldest son will be moving into "advanced" pre-school class (no surprise there), while my youngest boy will basically repeat the class he's already taken, (bit of a surprise there). They both start at 6:45.

So, unless The Wif comes along to correct me, this will be the first athletic event where they're separated from each other. This could get interesting. If, for example, Bink should swim across the pool in order to be next to his brother I'm going to argue a strong case that they be combined into the same class again. Although I'm sure Bink could do a better job of arguing his case than I could.

Freakin' Lawyers...

This is also the penultimate week of soccer for My Lovely Daughter. Just one Monday more and she's done - - - until The Wif finds the next session and signs us all up for it. OH KREP! That reminds me...

This past weekend I went through our long-discarded budget and tried to put things together so we'll have some kind of glance into the future. Now, the numbers are early and I just reminded myself that I need to account for gym/registration fees and the like, but the numbers I pulled together seem to be pointing to the fact that we can fully pay down one-sixth of our mortgage by the end of next year just by what we send extra "along the way." Add to that the regular payments and the increased amortization, I think that's nearly one-fourth of our mortgage that could be paid by the end of '10.

Not unimpressive, eh?

If you're wondering why I'm suddenly so flush with cash and sitting in such a grand position, well, I'm kind of wondering the same, frankly. Somehow, I caught the exact right message at excatly the right time for me to be in a GREAT position for the times to come. And what's to come?

Well...

Anyone who's found a doctor they like, (which I have), should fear: you're about to be limited to a "local network," (and especially so if cap-N-tax passes. You'll have to find a doctor you can walk/skateboard to). Similarly, if you're used to getting actual Treatment from your Doc, you're going to have to wait until some med-u-crat in D.C. approves your medication.

And you thought getting a prescription was difficult BEFORE The One took office; just wait until the whole thing's "FREE."

I've long been on the edge of yielding this argument because for so many of you Little o voters it's a religion instead of an intelligent choice. Little has changed, as far as I can tell, and most of you just ring the halo o' hope when asked about your choice.

To use a word that would get my daughter spanked -- "Whatever"

I'm not sure why this suddenly leapt into my mind just now - perhaps the date that once meant so much to me triggered a long-forgotten synapse as we re-visit it. Or it could be any number of other reasons not considered. Who knows for sure? But the simple end of the message is this: HAPPY BIRTHDAY. May you enjoy your 43^rd year as much or more than I am. You certainly deserve it.

Oh, but wait; I guess I'm not ready to put a "simple end" to it just yet: I guess that this date holds some sort of significance to me because as it approached, (READ: in the last couple of days), I came to realize how very close I now live to the "scene of the crime," as it were...

In a story known by few, I abandoned 'her' car - locked and closed - on Hwy 121 a mere rock's throw from where I now live and then ran back to a public facility because I saw my family following me. (HA! Joke's on them!) In what I still consider a strange twist of family will, my next-younger brother arrived to get me to move the car.

We ran - together - through the neighborhoods, parking lots and streets and I was completely AMAZED! that I was able to keep up with him; after all, he was the jock. He was the quarterback. He was the baseball player. HE was the basketball player.

And I not only kept up with him, but I remember him being more winded than I was. Hmmm...

We eventually got back to the car and - WHAT DO YOU KNOW - but my family was parked behind it! Wow - what a coincidence. Unfortunately, there was also one of "Arvada's Finest," lights blazing, right on the door. He meant business, (at the time, Arvada had the youngest police force in the state - a fact I learned in the course of one of my many trials), and was ready to ticket/tow.

I got there with my brother in tow and breathlessly explained what was going on as best I could: I abandoned the car thinking "The Owner" was right behind me and would have the keys to drive it away. Fortunately, it was one of the senior staff and he said, "well, just get it out of my road," and I did. Happily.

So, yeah. That took place just a minute away from where I'm writing this now. But I've fallen into another trap: I've once again made this about me. Shame on me for that.

Happy Birthday.

OK. Let's say you are the city's leading pretzel manufacturer and that everyone in town loves your pretzels - so much so that they come to rely on you making them. One day, after a visit to a new doctor, you decide that due to the high carbs and salt content pretzels aren't really good for people and you quit making pretzels.

You think you've done a good thing, right? After all, if they're not good for people they shouldn't be made, and since you're the leading manufacturer, if you stop making them, everything will surely be OK.

Except the town has developed a dependence upon your pretzels and miss your supply of them. As such, they turn to other options. Some homes start to make their own. Some families make them for their entire family and sometimes have enough to sell to their neighbors. Then two new companies pop up in town to make pretzels and sell them to the locals. And they do very well; business thrives.

So, under the best of Hell's pavement intentions, while you tried to LIMIT the number of pretzels in town you ACTUALLY increased the number - not only of pretzels - but also of pretzel manufacturers.

Huh. You mean things don't always turn out as we plan for them to? Wow...

(If anyone actually "gets" this, I'd I'd love to hear from you.)

...Aaaaannnnd, just because I'm feeling the approach more than usual this week -- Senior Jokes!

A man was telling his neighbor, ‘I just bought a new hearing aid. It cost me four thousand dollars, but it’s state of the art.. It’s perfect.’
‘Really,’ answered the neighbor . ‘What kind is it?’
‘Twelve thirty..’

A senior citizen said to his eighty-year old buddy:
‘So I hear you’re getting married?’
‘Yep!’
‘Do I know her?’
‘Nope!’
‘This woman, is she good looking?’
‘Not really.’
‘Is she a good cook?’

‘Naw, she can’t cook too well.’
‘Does she have lots of money?’
‘Nope! Poor as a church mouse.’
‘Well, then, is she good in bed?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Why in the world do you want to marry her then?’
‘Because she can still drive!’

A couple in their nineties are both having problems remembering things. During a checkup, the doctor tells them that they’re physically okay, but they might want to start writing things down to help them remember ..
Later that night, while watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair. ‘Want anything while I’m in the kitchen?’ he asks.
‘Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?’
‘Sure..’
‘Don’t you think you should write it down so you can remember it?’ she asks.
‘No, I can remember it.’
‘Well, I’d like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so as not to forget it?’
He says, ‘I can remember that. You want a bowl of ice cream with strawberries.’
‘I’d also like whipped cream. I’m certain you’ll forget that, write it down?’ she asks.
Irritated, he says, ‘I don’t need to write it down, I can remember it! Ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream – I got it, for goodness sake!’
Then he toddles into the kitchen. After about 20 minutes, The old man returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs.. She stares at the plate for a moment.
She says, ‘I knew you'd mess it up! Where’s my toast?’

Three old guys are out walking.
First one says, ‘Windy, isn’t it?’
Second one says, ‘No, it’s Thursday!’
Third one says, ‘So am I. Let’s go get a beer.’

A little old man shuffled slowly into an ice cream parlor and pulled himself slowly, painfully, up onto a stool.. After catching his breath, he ordered a banana split.
The waitress asked kindly, ‘Crushed nuts?’
‘No,’ he replied, ‘Arthritis.’

That last one completely cracked me up. Have a great summer weekend!

Well, it appears that they're on to me. Better make a run for it!!

Actually, this is an interesting story for any number of reasons, the first being the most obvious: how could this happen? Well, we all know the answer to that one, frankly; a guard can fall asleep on duty because, hey - what's going to happen, right? Handguns through a security checkpoint? Well, I think I remember Roberts on 12 saying they were expecting a shipment of handguns. (Either that or, "these are not the handguns you're looking for. They're free to go...")

Bomb parts getting past? Well this is a double-edged sword because I'm sorry they let them through but I seem strangely comforted by the fact that our guards don't seem to have the first clue about what it takes to make a bomb. So, you know, 50/50 on that.

Of course, the problem is exactly as Alan Shepherd summed it up all those years ago. When asked, "what do you think about while sitting in the capsule on top of this rocket?" (or something nearly like that), he said, "that every piece of this thing was built by the lowest bidder."

Exactly. These are people making minimum wage - $.75 more per hour for supervisors - and we expect them to be at the very top of the game. Well, EXPECT isn't quite strong enough. We require them to be at the top of the game.

Except that it's never going to happen. Let's face it, people are people and no matter how diligent we are, sooner or later we just say to ourselves, "well, that'll have to do" and we walk away. The only difference is where we draw that line. Some people give up after a few minutes while others only give up once they realize that nothing else can be done.

(Some others find rather creative solutions and may yet break through the wall, but that's pretty rare.)

I experienced this first-hand when I got divorced. When I was there, it was life-or-death for me. To my attorney, (may he suffer a slight case of heat rash), I was just another check. Therefore, when he completely messed up the settlement agreement I could either tell him to renegotiate - at 180 bucks per hour - or just sign it. Well, the settlement agreement would harm me, but the additional cost would KILL me, so I signed.

Just a job for him, after all. He got his check eventually, so where's the harm?

Similarly, the FPS folks are just doing a job; punching a clock, putting in time and looking sharp when the boss rambles by. Not to blame them, merely to convict them as human beings.

(Reminds me of a joke - what doesn't?: The Pope was out walking the grounds of the Vatican and meditating on the problems of the church's place in modern culture and praying for a solution when he spots Christ in the distance walking up the hillside. Excited, he runs back to the Vatican where he finds the Bishops and Cardinals talking, reading, walking around and some talking about ancient texts. The Pope announces to the room, "My Brothers! I have seen our Heavenly Father in all His glory! He is on the grounds and headed this way! EVERYONE!! LOOK BUSY!!)

Similarly, I remember how, after 9/11 the call came up for tighter security. Some called for tighter immigration control, (I don't know how to do a "hand's up" emoticon), some called for increased customs action and some called for the federalization of all airport screeners as the only way to cure this "problem."

So let's look through our magic-hindsight goggles and see how that worked. Oh yeah. We've already done that. Well, that would have to be my fault, I guess.

You know, I'm starting to come to the conclusion that human nature is human nature and can only be improved by the single way that the left says harms us most. But that's a subject for another day...

So riddle me this, Batman: why in THE HELL would we want to make our health care providers, ("Doctors" to those of you on the left), minimum wage earners, (read the bill), to the gubermint, (read the bill), and limit their options for treating us, (read the bill), in the interest of raising our taxes to pay for it (read the bill)?

You know, the first majority of the uninsured is illegal aliens. The next is those who chose to voluntarily be uninsured; you know, the young who think they're indestructible. Funny thing is, those "indestructible" sorts are now in their 40's PLUS and somehow think they're "untouchable" now.

HA! Good luck with THAT: let me know how it works.

Oy. The Wif has long - L-O-N-G - been telling me that my boy is just like me and I believe I've mentioned that she's often jokingly asked me where I was 9 months prior to his birth. Well, it's true that my youngest boy is an awful lot like me - perhaps proving that genetics mean nothing - in such things as food preference, sleep practices and the ability to argue anything with anyone. I can't deny those things (and wouldn't). It's kind of cool, actually.

My older boy, well, he's a natural jock. Unlike myself, he takes to All Things Sport with both passion and talent. I mean, I'm happy to throw a frisbee or ball around now and then and enjoy watching NFL games, but I'm a fat, uncoordinated old guy now, (previously a fat, uncoordinated young guy), who finds other ways to satisfy my competitive drive, (for I still have one). But my boy? Well, he's going to come out on top of whatever sport he participates.

Well, MLD has soccer on Monday evenings and takes one boy while leaving the other at home with me. (My schedule - I swear!) This week, it was D-Man's turn to go and, as is her practice, she takes his glove and a ball so he can get juiced for T-Ball, (COMING THIS FRIDAY TO A FIELD NEAR US!), as well as some practice time. They play catch while MLD runs around the field.

Well...

There was a little girl there - a younger sister of another soccer player - who came up and tapped my son on the shoulder. The Wif estimated her age to be about the same as his as they began to play together. And by "play" it should be said, well, let me explain.

He started throwing his baseball further than Mommy had ever seen him do before. Then he'd run after it, sometimes sliding to grab it, (I have NO idea where he learned that). He stood on the bleachers and jumped from higher and higher levels. He'd say his usual, casual "oh yeah," after doing it, too. He then practiced his "Spider-Man" routine by jumping and landing in a pose.

oh yeah.

Then, he started flexing his muscles for her: "I have big muscles!" I'm not sure The Wif heard the little girl's response, but I'm betting she agreed. Just a guess on my part...

At last it was time to go. The little girl asked if my son would come to her birthday party. She even went so far as to ask her father if he could come. As The Wif & he were talking, he got the official notice: he was invited. Noon on Sunday.

Yep. He bagged her. He's more like me than anyone realized...

Then tonight, at swimming, one of The Knuckleheads' teachers was out so the remaining two had their bikinis hands full with the class. They do cute little things like kicking, floats, dunks. Don't get me wrong; they're the building blocks of swimming, but they're also cute.

So when a teacher asked D-Man if he'd like to go out for his turn on the kickboard, he immediately said, "I wanna go with her," while pointing to Anna, (my personal choice of the 3, if I had a choice). The Wif burst into laughter and looked up at me. Hey - not MY fault, woman.

The kicker of it all is that Monday and Tuesday, The Wif kept saying that she thought boys learned such behavior from older brothers or movies or television or something. I tried to tell her that boys come fully equipped from birth - it's just that certain features are activated slightly later, (with 2 accessories delivered at about 12).

I think she's starting to understand. Finally.

Let's get through the obvious first: namely, none of you little o voters have contributed even a single cent towards the survival of my family. Shame on you. You voted this idiot in and since he's set out to destroy private corporations, disarm America, tax us all back to the small "s" stone age, take over ALL health insurance in this country, raise the national debt, (there's a difference), to a level that will still stagger our great-grandchildren, print money as if paper were going out of style, tax energy use that could double the cost of our electric bills and do who-knows-what to the price of food, gasoline, electricity, natural gas et. al., tax run-on sentences...

The 'cap-N-tax' krep is likely to die. After all, someone once said that, "the senate is where good ideas go to die," (not that cap-N-tax is a good idea, but lets hope it suffers a similar fate.) Of course, this was before the Minnesota Supreme Court "confirmed" that miserable joke of a farce of a clown to be their senator, (may they get what they deserve). So now, with a theoretical filibuster-proof senate, they could pretty much do whatever the heck they want. And if you want what they want, may it be foisted upon you.

Also this week, the little o came to an agreement with the russians that we'd cut our missile stores by half, or by one-third or to whatever level they basically told him we need to reduce them by, because they both had a similar goal; so HEY! Why not?!?

And we know we can trust them because the russians have such a fine sense of obeying the agreements they sign. I mean, 14 million single russian women advertising for an "American husband" MUST be lying, right?

Those of you who believe the Global Farce of global warming will have to answer for what you've brought against the rest of us, eventually. Maybe as early as 2010, but that will have to be seen...

I don't know how many of you took note, but "The Guvernator" took to issuing I.O.U.'s for tax refunds this year. ARE YOU FRICKIN' KIDDING ME?!?!? You mean people paid too much to the gubermint via whitholding and you're giving back a check that's post-dated until 2016? Thanks, I'll just file it here where I'm sure to remember it in a dozen years or so.

Does this make anyone else nervous? Seriously? I mean, what happens in Las Vegas might stay in Las Vegas, but what you earn in California apparently stays in California. And soon, what you earn in the United States might very well stay in... ... D.C.

But don't worry - they're sending you an I.O.U. to cover the difference! All will be made well.

Towards that end, it would seem that my last tax-correction effort finally took effect: I did a comparison of the end-of-May to the end-of-June and I noticed that my federal withholding went from $577 to $88. Given the fact that it finally seems corrected I still expect a sizable refund, but nothing like what we saw last year. I still have the State numbers to work out, but we'll dial it in as need be.

Got to go. I'm the boss tomorrow. I was "the boss" today, but it didn't seem to amount to much. OH! But first a quick kid story...

The other day I was upstairs in our bedroom when I heard a kerfuffle from downstairs. It was The Wif herding my oldest son UP the stairs. I heard them coming and mentally registered his complaint: he was unhappy with his current treatment. He was being sent to his room because he was being unruly.

AGAIN

He said, over and over again, "Leave me ALONE, Mommy!" Just until he saw me standing in the upper hallway. The second our eyes locked, he said, "I want Mommy."

Too late, Knucklehead.

Like most of us Feds out there, I started my official weekend a day early on Friday, for 'tis the given day for the holiday this year. And how else to celebrate a day off by mowing the stupid back yard: 7,900 square feet of weeds, grass, chinese plastic, disobedient children and a spouse who was gone for reasons I no longer remember, (taking MLD to a playdate and shopping stimulating the economy). It's been that long ago at this point.

Speaking of being "that long," what finally nudged me into the decision to mow the yard is the fact that my boys wandered into a lower corner of the yard and I lost sight of them entirely. Once I whistled to bring them back into sight, I noted that some of the weeds had grown - from my point of view - nearly to Bink's shoulder. Yep. Time to break out the lawnmower...

Now, when you go to start your mower and the grass and weeds have grown up around the blade to the point that you can't even turn the motor, well, that's a sure second sign that you've been slacking on the job. Just sayin'

I finally get the "mowler" - as Bink says - running and start off on the yard. I go carefully at first: I round my corners and corner my edges, as it were. I go slow enough to allow the dull blade and the motor to catch up with the work required of it. Fortunately, I don't collect the trimmings but use the mulching feature so I won't have to stop every twenty feet to bag the stuff, (and end up filling 42 bags in the process).

UNfortunately, it wasn't long before I received an additional incentive to speed up my process: see, I'm bald again with only a small goatee covering my chin and I was really starting to feel the sun. Additionally, I went out in shorts, a wife-beater, sandals and - of course - no sunscreen whatsoever.

Because I'm an idiot, that's why...

Can you say, "Beet Red Beet?" Well, that's my head. And since I can't come up with a better description it's also my shoulders. Fortunately, the back of my knees came out OK but I credit that to a certain amount of "natural shade" I carry around with me, so THAT worked out OK.

Pain, dehydration and all the rest ensued. Still do, kind of. The worst part of my new melon configuration is that if you're going to maintain it and NOT come out looking like some sort of late-blooming chia pet, you've got to get a razor on it now and then. (And perhaps some freakin' sunscreen from time-to-time!), so I knew what was in my future.

OH! I should mention that on Friday morning I got up with the kids, (like I do almost every Saturday), so that The Wif can sleep in. I turned off the monitor(s), headed downstairs and let The Wif relax and sleep. Until 11:00.

DON'T GET ME WRONG! I'm not complaining -- I'm BRAGGING. I cooked breakfast, emptied the dishwasher, fed the kids, got them started getting dressed, (because they can almost all do it themselves if their brains are working), filled the dishwasher, cleaned the counters and eventually micro-nuked up a Jimmy Dean sausage sandwich for myself.

And like I said, at around 11 The Wif came in to find me sitting in my chair and the kids playing outside. Without sunscreen. Because if it's good enough for me, DAGNABBIT..!

(Just kidding, J_Lo. They were sprayed.)

So on Saturday morning - as I was tossing and turning because of my nearly-bald-but-completely-burnt-head - and other health KREP which developed due to my mowing the lawn, and in a completely unexpected move, The Wif got up and gave up her Saturday morning in bed, (next to me DAGNABBIT), to serve MY usual role leaving me to hers.

I was dressed but unshowered and downstairs by 10:30. And then I was asked why I was so early. Well, HECK! If that was the answer I expected, I'd STILL be in bed, or Pete's sake.

The Wif took D-Man to her Mom's and I had MLD and Bink, so we decided to go run a few errands, (I'm stupid that way). So we went to lunch at Chik-Fil-A, stopped at The World's Worst Wal-Mart (open for debate in the comment section), and set about settling out list: batteries, vinegar and shoe gloo.

Well, we got that and more then found our way home. Only to prep for our upcoming Fourth party...

$2,912 That's what every one of you little o voters owe me if Cap-N-Tax actually goes into effect. After all, he said he would tax every one of us -- before he said he wouldn't -- and in the name of the great farce of Global Summer it looks like ALL of our taxes/costs are going up. Even the 95% he SWORE would not be taxed further.

So it's up to you now. EVERY one of you who voted for this clown should feel obligated to send me at least $300 to make up for what you've inflicted on me and my family. And if it doesn't add up to the anticipated (scant) $3K, you'll have to pony up again. And again. And again until it all evens out.

I mean, that's what YOUR GUY is requiring of you. It's just a request on my part. Seems fair...

This country - MY country - is the Greatest GOD Ever Gave Man. I understand that there are plenty of people out there who believe otherwise. For them I have one question: would the world be better, or worse, off if the United States never existed?

I also recognize that some of my fellow countrymen would answer my question by saying, "better off." To which I then ask, "why the Hell are you still here, then?" And follow it up with some sage advice and a promise of light physical violence.

Neither has been followed through on, yet.

Our Founding Fathers had a vision which HAD to be divinely inspired, (and they repeatedly said so). That is, instead of allowing themselves to believe they were personally descendents of GOD, they made an honest effort to get out of the way and listen to the true heart of human nature. And they did a heck of a job.

Believing that all men were created with an inherent desire to be free, live free and worship free, they started an idea. A crazy, stupid idea. And it was a huge fight at the time because such ideas were considered foolishness in the age of unquestioned imperialism. The very thought that a "colony" would be free was crazy.

Which makes us all the more remarkable, frankly. And my admiration for Washington, Madison, Adams, Hamilton, Jefferson and all the rest grows every day. History will eventually forget all that they did - it's already well under way - but I refuse to. In fact, I'll do my best to teach my kids what was really at stake. Because their history teachers are less than likely to do so.

(And as an aside, the little o accidentally added to our own glorious history by overseeing the transition of security of Iraq from American Forces to local control earlier this week. Imagine how it will look if Iraqis celebrate their "Independence" mere days before we celebrate ours? Further, imagine who's going to get the credit and who will actually deserve the credit...)

Happy Independence DAY!!

Where to start, except with the obvious complaint? This afternoon I finished the last four nationwide sites from stem-to-stern: I deleted all the old backup jobs, disabled two tasks that I think I had a hand in creating, (it's been a long time), then created 10 new backup jobs for each of 3 sites, (except for Atlanta, which required 15 new jobs), shutdown this-or-that various service and passed it off as a job well done.

Only time will tell on that last count...

All this meant that I had to enter a rather ungainly password four times for each job. I'm sure Dood has already done the math, but it also meant that I had to enter it as the user on each server. Even before I fumbled the password, this means that I had to type it a minimum -- MINIMUM -- of 148 times today!

And as I say, the password is... inelegant at best. I'm not about to share it here, (OBVIOUSLY), but it's something like, "Run$theJobN0w" or something. Absolutely obnoxious. And I had to type it at least 148 times.

But the jobs are done and provided things all go well tonight, (in 3... 2... 1...), I will have accomplished quite a feat. Of course, just by saying that I've guaranteed absolute and utter failure, so I'll get a chance to try it all again tomorrow.

yay.

In other, work-related news, I'm going to be named as Acting Director Monday & Tuesday of next week. THAT should prove that we're going to be completely short-staffed come the 6th. Even better: I was approved for leave to take an hour to go to my doctor on Monday. So I'll be leading the team except for when I'm not there, and will start my day at 9:30 D.C. time. I smelled something and had to check it out.

I called the ACTUAL director and asked what would be expected of an ACTING director. I was told, "nothing." Well, heck -- even I can do that! And better than most others! Count me in!

Then the director told me that should anything serious come up I should just "think about them" and "do what they would do." I wanted to say that I wasn't sure I could use that kind of language" but I kept it to myself. After all, I KNOW the words, (I golf, remember?) but I simply choose NOT to use them if I can possibly control myself.

And in a related vein, I have to boast a little if you'll allow me: I was in on an email thread between the aforementioned director and the director of another - related - division of my peers today. I was trying to walk the latter through an install of a piece of hardware that I was responsible for making work properly and it would seem that all went well, (see above: 148 inputs of the same password can keep one busy).

"Their" director was talking to "My" director - including me, natch - when "Their" director said they were ready to start spouting obscenities. "My" director responded basically by saying, "what took you so long?" "Their" director responded by saying, "Well, Stone is on the message..."

A moment of pause here: I CAN swear. I know all the words and have probably used every one of them at one time or another. Some of you probably have first-hand stories to tell about how I actually know the words. I actually believe I was notorious for it because at one time I was chided by a guy, (I think I wrote about this), for swearing in front of "his woman."

(Any comment about how he cared so much for this gal but still refused to marry her will be cheerfully deleted)

So I know the words. I just try not to use them (any more).

And somehow the big bosses talk to each other, including me on the email, and one of them refuses to drop an "*-bomb" because I'm involved in the discussion.

Call me a wimp if you want, but I was flattered. And continue to be...

A great guy with a great deal of skill came by tonight to troubleshoot/fix our electrical problem and once he was done I felt like an idiot. After all, he did his high-tech things, checked all the things he's already told me to check and then ran a meter through our circuit box and found the problem.

He then flipped the switch and all was made well. Don't I look like a moron now...

But all is running and we now have a downdraft cooler again so maybe since it's finally getting hot 'round these parts we'll be able to live at an artificially lowered temperature given the heat of July and the fact that we've entered Global Summer. Err.., Global Monthly Change. Or whatever it is.

The more-than-able workman is a family friend who not only fixed the problem but set me on the right track to fix what's going on in my daughter's room. Namely, NO electricity.

He's a great guy, a hard worker, (every time I called his cell he was on the road to the next job; night, morning, evening - every time), and he knows his stuff. About an hour in our home and he had things going again. He's brilliant.

The best part is - for me anyway - is that he never once treated me like an idiot. I don't know if he remembers that I was always in electronics in high school, (because we shared a time in the same hallways), or if it's just how he treats everyone, (I hope it's the latter, frankly), but he's a really cool guy.

It's how I picked my doctor, to be honest: someone who knows their stuff but is still willing to listen. It's a perfect combination and I only wish more "professionals" would be open to following the example. But that's the perfect world and certainly not this one.

About that time in high school I can only say that this is only one of two guys that I was sure - CERTAIN - I couldn't beat in a fight and I was usually sure to bring the other one with me, just to clear the house if need be. But if tonight's electrician had been there and on the opposite side, (for some reason), it would have left me very busy because the two of them would still be fighting in the streets tonight. And I wouldn't have a repaired circuit.

He's the guy - that's for sure - and has been for some time. I'm sure he doesn't recognize it, would pass things off if it were pointed out to him and deny everything I've just written.

But I can prove what I've just said...

During a 'seminal moment' in my youngest brothers' life I foolishly shouted to the revelers, "NOBODY goes in there! Except "Don" if he wants to." I then grabbed a beer and a glass of Matilda Bay. As far as I know, "Don" didn't even approach the room........