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| Life at the end of June, 2008 |
| 06.30.08 (10:04 am) [edit] |
Good morning Boys and Girls.Sun's out in Iowa. We got back here about eleven last night after leaving my house Friday for a stop in Hell so Sweet Lady, the kids and my friend Bob could meet - and so we could enjoy a night in "Bobonia." Of course, on the way out, we ended up stopping for the obligatory photo-op at "Scream" - the year round Halloween store and headquarters for the sale of all the "Hell, Michigan" kitchy memorabilia. We only bought a "Grumpier than Hell in the morning" mug for Sweet Lady's brother. Her son bought a mood ring for some reason and proceeded to get it stuck on his finger so tightly that we thought the jaws of life might be required to extricate said ring from his squeezed digit, but thankfully, a soaking in ice from the cooler and some twisting did the trick after a little while. Sweet Lady insisted on a pic of her and I standing in front of "the Wedding Chapel from Hell", which is conveniently situated right there behind the Dam Site Inn; the three store town's destination Biker Bar that was appropriately closed that hour on a Sunday morning. Bob, as usual, was a over-gracious host, and we feasted like royalty at his place there on the his tiny island. He said he'd never had a six-year-old at his home before, but I'm pretty sure he enjoyed it as much as Little-Bit enjoyed her time there. Both kids did some fishing, but neither caught anything. No matter, you could see the fish were there right next to the lures, but they didn't seem interested in the offered bait. The week at my place was fun too and I was sure glad to have the crew there. Now we're here in Iowa till Thursday evening when Sweet Lady and I will make the trip back to my house for the fourth. I'm hoping my kids, AuntConi, and Bob will be there along with an appearance from Dot and Terry after they spend the bulk of the day at Terry's folks' house. Anyone else want to stop by? -Let me know, I'll give directions. Now, I've got to figure out how to squeeze six or seven days' work into four while I'm here in Des Moines. Where's my cape and super-hero outfit? -Oh, I forgot. It's on under my shorts and t-shirt. (The cape does look a little silly hanging out from the pant legs like that.. Oh well.) "It's a bird. It's a plane. It's... Hey wait a minute. W.T.F. is that? Holy sh*t. What a geek." Be good to everyone. |
| Collateral damage without representation... |
| 06.26.08 (8:52 am) [edit] |
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Good evening Boys and Girls. I wonder if those Muslim men - you know the ones I mean; all those hateful brown colored people over there somewhere - would enjoy having a six year old little girl running around their home for the week, while a beautiful, sexy woman - as it happens, the little girl's Mother, who does a ton of smiling and laughing at lame jokes - makes one feel like a not-so-unimportant person? I wonder, would those men enjoy meals together and the warmth that comes from simple human interaction? -Would they enjoy the simple feeling of love that comes from doing not much of anything, but doing it together? Do those people even love? Seems to me, especially from some of the crap I read on the web - oh hell, not just on the web - we hear the same stuff on A.M. radio on a daily basis - that we Americans, and what? -maybe a few Canadians? - have the corner on loving the people with whom we interact on daily basis. At least it seems to me this must be the rationale for writing off half a billion people as little more than collateral damage, either already rendered as such, or in the offing. Certainly I know this much to be true: I'm pretty sure I've yet to hear a single one of my "Christian" friends, and/or acquaintances, offer up as much as a single prayer on behalf of those millions of innocent people of Iraq or Afghanistan who, like us, just want to get through life unmolested by the policies of governments of nations half a world away. What I do hear from people who claim to have "a personal relationship with Jesus," - (usually pronounced in three syllables with eyes rolled back for special emphasis, "Jee-ay-sus") is that we'd be downright un-American if we don't "support the troops" - which we all know has come to mean, "don't you dare suggest anything that has gone on during the past five years is worthy of reconsideration, you slime-ball hippie-freak." Jesus has been usurped and transformed over the centuries. Instead of someone who specifically told us to love each other - enemies included, he's been turned into an iconoclastic American military adviser, (cigar poised in the corner of his mouth and complete with a perfectly pressed medal-studded dress uniform) who promises both a Jim and Tammy Faye style heaven for believers as well as "success in the long term", if we'd just "stay the course." I'm tired of it. Yes, this is probably my twentieth post of this nature over the past four years. I'm sorry. The thoughts fester and ooze, and simply scream to get out. -I think it's recurring infection. Be good to everyone. |
| "So, Vonnegut and Jesus are playing Gin up in heaven; Carlin shows up - wants to play the winner..." |
| 06.23.08 (8:52 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. Just saw that George Carlin has died of heart failure at 71 years old. This saddens me deeply. I've always enjoyed his work, and respected him immensely. Over the years I got a real kick out of the way he skewered the status quo, pushing arbitrary boundaries that never accurately reflected our society in the first place. Plus, and more importantly, as he grew older, his own world view shifted - or at least the one he allowed us to peek into - until, during the last couple of decades, he became a voice for common sense. I mean, certainly, he was - first and foremost - just a comedian, but he jammed his routines full of truth nuggets that, first, I never heard anyone else articulate anywhere near as effectively, and secondly, always made me feel like I was listening to a kindred spirit. Like Kurt Vonnegut who died this past year too - another favorite who used words so incredibly effectively, often masking his message within the confines and context of totally unrelated verbiage - if you were willing to hear what Carlin was saying, there was a lot more going on there than just the laughs he generated so effectively. His wife of over forty years died a few years ago, and though he kept at it, working and writing all the time, the was a distinct change in his demeanor; not bitterness or even a profound sadness that lingered in his work, but perhaps just a realization that, for him, like the rest of us, there are some things we can't do a damn thing about, except to deal with them as best we can. Evidently, he'd just been notified a week ago that he'd be the eleventh recipient of the Mark Twain Comedy Award with a presentation celebration in November at the Kennedy Center. The show will go on as scheduled - a good thing. I'll watch it if it's on television, and I'm sure I'll cry over the loss of a friend; one I only knew from his work. In his last HBO special, he dealt a lot with getting older - the pros (-can't remember shit,) and cons (-can't remember shit). Later he wonders how long you're supposed to keep the info for friends who've died in your address book. Six weeks, he decides. Then he talks about how, now that he stored everything in his computer, he maybe ought to create a folder just for such info. That way, when you want to, you can open the folder and see your friends! Funny man. Can you imagine getting your hands on the hard drive for his computer? --reading through all the stuff he never got around to using, or material he hadn't flushed out well enough yet? Zowie. -Talk about a treasure trove. I'm tired of people dying before I'm ready for them to go. Get on that God, would ya? Be good to everyone. |
| This is livin'... |
| 06.22.08 (8:19 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. Sweet Lady and her kids arrived Friday night about ten o'clock. So glad they're here. Gonna camp a few days starting tomorrow, first at a neat place not ten miles from here, then somewhere over on Lake Michigan. One of us will post some pics as the week goes on. Nothing much else on my mind. Whatever shall we do today? A ball game? Canoeing? Maybe some mini-golf and go-carts... We'll see what the kids feel like when they wake up. I'd guess the six-year old girl will be up within the hour. The fourteen year-old boy? Hah. Bet we won't see him till close to noon - unless, of course, we turn said six-year-old loose on him. Bet she could annoy him into awake-ness in about fifteen seconds. Hmmm. Could be fun! Be good to everyone. |
| "This one's for England, now smile..." (A phrase from my childhood and a recurring lyric from "Rogue.") |
| 06.18.08 (10:17 pm) [edit] |
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Good evening Boys and Girls. Every now and again, my temper spikes. I don't mean I go off violently, or strike out at anyone physically, but there are definitely periods of time when my patience for fools and foolishness just about completely evaporates. Not sure why it happens, but I'm sort of glad it does. Most of the time, I calmly accept the fact that, at least in this country, lots of folks are entirely dismissive and derisive of things they've worked hard not to learn anything about. For instance, ask any self-described conservative why the Soviet Union fell, and they'll tell you that, in essence, Ronald Reagan caused it single handedly by scaring the bejesus out of the Ruskies with his threat of our non-existent Star Wars defense project, causing them to bankrupt themselves trying to play catch-up. To most conservatives I know, that's just indisputable fact. (Surely, his ruse helped, but there were lots of other factors, hundreds actually - none of which I'll bother addressing here since the folks I'm talking about rarely accept any of the rest of them anyway. It's basically just "Super Ronny did it." Fine. Who cares. Let's give it to them.) But! I wonder how many people in this country know that, in the Muslim world, it is JUST as much accepted "fact" that the primary reason the Soviet Union no longer exists, is because Bin Laden and his "freedom fighters" (remember, that's what WE Americans called them then...) dragged out the war in Afghanistan so long, and fought so valiantly that THEY bankrupted Russia, demoralized the military and finally sent them packing just EIGHT MONTHS before the wall came down, and less than two years before it all came apart in a bright red implosion of hammers and sickles? Did you know that many Muslims feel very strongly that THEY are responsible for leaving the U.S. the lone super-power left in the world? -And that we showed absolutely no gratitude? Now look, I'm not advocating this position as being "the" truth, but, frankly, there's certainly some truth in it. My point is, that I certainly never knew that's how millions of people feel about this slice of world history, and that along with, remember, many people over there are incredibly upset that we've continued to treat their homeland as our private supply pantry for so long - even if it is rather inconveniently located. Never forget that "we" LOVED Saddam till he got greedier than we felt he ought to. Never forget that we supplied that megalomaniac with the very weapons he used on the Kurds; the very weapons that ended up being the specific cause for his demise. Never forget that when Bin Laden was doing something we wanted him to do, he was oakee-doaky with us. And PLEASE don't try to insinuate that I don't love my country because I'm pointing this stuff out, or that I'm an apologist for these world-class murderous assholes. The point is, I love my country ENOUGH to point this stuff out. So, here was where I was going to get into the meat of what I'd hoped to say in this post, but Sweet Lady just called and asked what I've been up to while she and her kids were at Church. She laughed when I told her I'd spent an hour writing what's above - I'm a notoriously slow writer - but then I read her what I had so far. "It's a good post," she said, "I completely disagree with every word of it, but it's good. Why don't you just stop and post what you've got? No one's going to read a big long thing anyway, plus after they read just the first two paragraphs, they'll rip you a new one, anyway." Good point Sweet Lady. I'll go on later. Another Day, perhaps. Another time. -Maybe the next time my biorhythms send me into a tizzy. And Maybe, by then I'll have learned to START with what I want to say, instead of trying to work my way onto it for a few hundred words... Be good to everyone. Oh, if you've got 23 minutes to spare, go to "strungoutrecords.com" click on the video in the middle of the page, (you can watch it there, but if you click on the video itself, it'll take you to the myspace page where the video quality seems to be better,) and watch Brother Matt's band "Discipline." go through a practice run of his epic song "Rogue." I've always loved the song, though this is the first time I've seen the band do it. I have a recording of Matt doing it himself, but I know this is always what he'd hoped to do with the song. -And for goodness sakes, be patient. It's takes a while to get rocking. They're playing at Nearfest this weekend near Philly. |
| Sundays won't be the same... |
| 06.15.08 (9:10 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. I wussed out. Came straight home from Iowa and spent the whole of yesterday afternoon and last evening relaxing; mostly yapping on the phone with Sweet Lady and watching Tiger Woods do amazing things out in San Diego. Don't know if he'll win today, but the last six holes he played yesterday had me giggling in awe. When he gets on a roll? -Zowie. I'll head over to Detroit in an hour or so after writing this and hopping in the shower. Most early Sunday mornings I spend watching television. I flip around and try to catch the gist of what some of the T.V. preachers are spewing, and see what sort of rubbish they're selling "for a love offering". For me it's pure entertainment - unless and until I hear one of them really crossing the line, at which time I usually get all pissed off, shake my head, cuss at them on the screen, and still, I just flip to another station, moving on to the next one. This morning, I've only gotten really angry twice. Once at John Hagee ("Homosexual households are not families.") and once at Kenneth Copeland ("God wants you to be rich. He wants you to enjoy material wealth!"). -You know, the usual B.S. these guys shout out to get their jollies. -Not too bad in an hour of flipping around. It's a silly way for me to spend time, I know, but I do it almost every week... That's 'til nine a.m. Since sometime in the early nineties, for me, nine a.m. Sunday morning has meant "Meet the Press" and an hour with Tim Russert. Man. Fifty-eight. Way too young. I'm going to miss Tim Russert, what with his incessant sardonic smile; his warm voice; his genuine amusement when people tried to snow him; his creative method of getting politicians back on track when they start answering his questions with unrelated talking points; his obvious love of his own family; and his silly obsession with everything Buffalo - his home town. Mostly, I'm going to miss him because he was a weekly reminder to me of how cool it is when someone ends up doing exactly what they ought to be doing; doing what they were meant to do. He was a man who loved his work. I'm sure there'll be a moving tribute to him this morning in the "Meet the Press" time slot, but I'll likely be on the road by then. I really ought to get one of those digital recorder things. "Embrace the technology, surrogate." "NO!... NOOOOOO! Oh... Okay." Enjoy your day people. Be good to everyone. |
| Gluggg... Glugg |
| 06.13.08 (7:26 am) [edit] |
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Goooood morning Boys and Girls. Thrilling. One of my oldest and best friend's Mom died Wednesday morning. She was an interesting lady and during my high school years and for the first ten or so years of my marriage, she was part of my life on a regular basis. She lived the last ten years of her life Northern Kentucky, just across from Cincinnati. Her son, as I said, a very good friend and a partner of mine for a number of years, is now a minister in Chicago. The funeral is Monday in our hometown Detroit suburb of Royal Oak, with viewing Sunday afternoon at the funeral home just across from the church where we became friends. I'd planned on leaving Iowa either tonight or tomorrow anyway, and had decided I'd just stay on 94 when I got to Michigan, and go over to Royal Oak for the viewing Sunday, then go back across the state to where I live in the late afternoon. A much longer trip than I'd anticipated, but, so be it. Now? I-80 is closed for a few days in the eastern part of the Iowa due to flooding, and the detour - about a hundred miles extra - is expected to be incredibly crowded with long delays. One source says to expect traffic on the detour to average about 20 miles an hour. Oy. I can feel my nerves beginning to lift to the surface of my skin. So... The weird thing. I'd not really thought of Nick's Mom in at least a few weeks. Early in the morning Wednesday, while I was washing up in the bathroom here at Sweet Lady's, Mrs. Nick came to mind, and I thought about the last time I'd spoken to her on the phone, perhaps two years ago when I was down in Cincinnati. I'd hoped to see her, but she wasn't feeling up to visitors, so we just chatted for a while. Nothing earth shattering, just the usual, 'hope you're okay; nice to hear your voice...' -That sort of thing. So it was very strange when, just an hour or so later, I saw I had an email from Nick telling me about his Mom's death and promising to let me know when once they'd firmed up funeral arrangements. I'll say it again. She was an interesting woman. I'm not sure I'd say she was always the nicest person in the world - mostly cuz' I don't think that would be important to her. She didn't suffer fools very easily, and when I was foolish, she let me know it - not always a fun thing to deal with, but we all need people like that in our lives, I think. There was never any malice in her. On the contrary, she wanted what was best for us and hated seeing us do things that would get in the way of that. I will truly miss her. Hey. Anyone have a boat I can throw my Jeep on to get through this flooding? Be good to everyone. |
| It's a water world. |
| 06.09.08 (9:02 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. Wet. Water. Moisture. Rain. Flooding. Welcome to Middle America circa early June, '08. Got an email from ex good-roomie Dot this morning telling me people are using boats to get around in certain portions of Grand Rapids the last couple of days; there are sink holes forming big enough to swallow cars, which some have done, evidently. Last night I received a call from my friend Bob in Hell, Michigan, which is a hundred miles south and east of Grand Rapids. He was sitting outside his house enjoying a Scotch and reading. 'Said it was about all there was to do since his power had been off for a while. He must be charging his cell phone in his car. Same story here, 500 miles to the west. Flooded basement here at Sweet Lady's house. Loads of fun dealing with that, but around the rest of Des Moines, there's been more water dumped in the past week that at any time since "the floods of '93". I'd never heard of them before, but evidently that's the last time things were anywhere near this drenched around here. According to the news, in fact, this series of storms doesn't come close to matching up with that legendary time, when, I assume, you had to be on the top floor of the Capitol Building to stay dry. "Calling Noah. Mr. Noah, please meet your party at the main entrance. The Ark will be sailing in exactly one hour." On Saturday, I did some work for a guy on his Bass Boat. He was really anxious to get it done. When I stopped to see it I thought I was there to just check it out; I'd get to think about it for a day or two and then go back and do the work. But no, he asked me to do it right then. You think he knows something? I thought he just wanted to look cool while he was fishing, but...? The other weird thing is, I just saw Kevin Costner float by on a banged up old catamaran. I swear he had gills on his neck. Be good to everyone. |
| Perhaps he WILL win... Wow, it's nice to be able to feel that. |
| 06.07.08 (9:51 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. Well now, I'm in Iowa and it seems official. Barack Obama will indeed be the Democrats' nominee for president as, from what I hear, Hillary will make her overdue concession speech a little later today. First, I understand that, as is customary, the Obama campaign will help retire Clinton's thirty million dollar campaign debt. It's a nice thing. Laudatory. Only one thing bugs me about it. I want the same consideration when I try something that doesn't quite work out like I planned it. In fact, I want any competitors, ya know, the ones who beat me out, to step up to the plate in a spirit of camaraderie and unity, to say, "Hey surrogate, we know you gave it you best shot, but since you failed, we're going to cover the debt you accrued trying to make us look like idiots." As I said, if I have any sour grapes about this, it's only because I've spent many a year in my life paying for things that had not worked out years earlier. When's surrogate's turn? I know. Let it go. Let go of the bitterness.... Fine. Since Tuesday evening, I've heard six separate people tell me that they will never vote for Barack Oabama because they would never vote for a... (pick your own derogatory term). Suffice it to say that not one of them used "black man" OR "African American". There were three different terms used amongst the six people who've mentioned their "feelings" on the issue to me, but not one of them was, to my way of thinking anyway, anywhere near socially acceptable to people of good will. I definitely worry about Mr. Obama's safety over the next six months, and thenduring the next four or eight years, if, in fact, he is elected; something I'm allowing myself to be more and more hopeful about. However, I know that there are plenty of racist whack-jobs out there who would, I'm sure, like nothing more than to carve Barrack Oabama's name as another notch on the historic American gun stock of assassination. I've only been in Iowa (the place, remember, where Barack stunned the world by winning here this past January) and Michigan during the last week. The fact that I've heard six people dis the guy over his race already in just the past four days suggests to me that in some parts of the country, there are probably meetings taking place, plans being kicked around, and sick fantasies being explored. I pray that he wins easily, but also that the security around him is so good that they always thoroughly protect him AND successfully sniff out what I worry will be more than one lunatic hell bent on trying to get famous at Mr. Obama's expense - as well as the rest of ours. Be good to everyone. |
| Write it down, buster. |
| 06.04.08 (9:20 pm) [edit] |
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Good evening Boys and Girls. |
| Another bite of Apple. |
| 06.03.08 (8:57 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. Over the weekend, I bought a new (used) mac from ex good-roomie Dot. She bought a new mac mini about eight months ago when one too many viruses had interrupted the smooth use of her p.c. one too many times. She'd heard me talk about my love of all things Apple ever since I'd met her and, with my encouragement, she decided to make the switch. She bought the mac mini and then took her p.c. to a computer geek friend of hers to get it cleaned out, figuring she'd use it as a back-up once it was returned. As it turned out, once she got the p.c. back, she eased back into using it and really just used the mac as a back-up. Oh well. So, she offered to sell me her mac. Cool. This one, my desktop, is almost five years old, and I suppose it is getting to be time to replace it, even though it really has no problems and is still faster and more nimble than even the newest p.c.'s I've toyed with. Regardless, I thought it was a smart move, so I bought her mini, realizing I wouldn't have time to do the transfer of data for a few weeks, meaning I probably won't start using it 'til sometime later in the summer. Yesterday, on my way home from work, Dot called me to tell me her new roomie Terry's computer had taken a dump and that he'd just gone out and bought a brand new mac. I said, "Geez Dot, he could have had the mini-mac. I'd have sold it back. Heck, I'm not even going to start using it right away. I feel bad." She said, no, he'd had something specific in mind, and then she gave the phone to Terry, who sounded like a kid who'd just discovered a golden ticket in his Wonka Bar. "Oh man, the thing's going to scream! Three gigs of ram, a huge monitor... it's really cool!" Neat. We mac folks (all eleven of us) love it when we get another convert. Plus? I get to buy the nice flat screen Terry had been using with his p.c. As OldSchool said to me the other day, "I love it when a plan comes together" - even when, as in this case, there wasn't really a plan at all! Be good to everyone. |
| Cat jewelry? |
| 06.01.08 (8:31 am) [edit] |
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Good morning Boys and Girls. 7:38 Sunday morning. Roadie had been acting like she'd seen a ghost ever since she woke me up an hour ago... She's been running around the house meowing, then coming up to me here at the computer and staring me down, obviously wanting something. Three times I got up to follow her, twice stopping along the way to give her treats - at her insistence. She lead me into my bedroom once and twice into the living room. I couldn't figure out what was bothering her... 'til just now. She stood up on her hind legs, placing her front paws on my thigh - a common thing when she wants attention - and stared directly into my eyes. I stroked the back of her head and tried to read her mind. It was just then I noticed something was stuck next to her nose. At closer inspection it appeared it was on one of the longer up-swept whiskers on the left side of her little cat face. What the? Is it food? It looked like a piece of her food. It was. Somehow her whisker had threaded itself though a flaw or crevice in about a third of a piece of her dry food; a bead on a filament that had slid down to her nose. She must have had her head in the bowl and moved just so to catch it as she had. Oh! That's what had been driving her nuts. She could certainly feel it, but if she was able to see it, I'm pretty sure it would have been only in her peripheral vision. (Put a finger along the side of your left nostril... Like that.) I don't know how cats' eyes focus but I'm pretty sure she could just see it. I slid it off her whisker - which took some doing as, understandably, she kept turning away - but once she allowed me to do it, she calmed right down. I can't figure out how I missed it the first few times I looked at her this morning. Maybe I'm so used to the little piercing on Sweet Lady's nose, and her tiny diamond there, that it slipped right by me. Who knows. Poor little Roadie. -Funny too, even though I can't let her know that's what I'm laughing about. She's a very sensitive kitty, you know. Be good to everyone. |
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