A Voice of Reason - 10/30/08

This was sent to me by a friend. I could not agree with this guy more. It is good to see a black man that is not voting for Obama just because of his color. I am not very political but I do fear for our country under a socialist regime. We do need some change, but not too much. We have it pretty good here. I once heard a comedian say that is is better to be homeless in America than to be King of some countries. God bless America.

Wordless Wednesday - "Halloween in the South" - 10/29/08

This is in my neighborhood. Am I the only one that finds this a disturbing Halloween decoration?

Wordless Wednesday - "My Co-pilot" - 10/22/08

Sunday Scribblings - "My Style" - 10/19/08

My style, or lack of style, can be categorized as beach/golf casual. I do not wear long pants unless the temperature nears freezing, which it seldom does here. I wear nothing but golf shirts and avoid any function or occupation that requires more formal apparel. I usually wear the same five or six shirts until I purchase others (always on discount), then the old ones fall from favor and are retired to the closet, never to see the light of day again. I wear my shirttail out. I am too fat to tuck. I dress for comfort, not to seek other’s approval. By dressing casual, I am always ready for a surprise Cat Scan or MRI, which seem to come quite often as I get older. If you look closely (you don't actually need to look very closely) you will notice a stain on the chest of each of my shirts. Another signature element of my sense of style is that I cannot seem to eat anything with any liquid content without wearing some of it on my shirt. Soup, gravy, sauce, syrup, doesn't matter. It will find it's way onto my shirt. I wear it as a badge, as a Wal-mart greeter proudly wears his nametag. It identifies the shirt as mine. I should own stock in Spray-N-Wash.

I am a fanatic about cleanliness and personal hygiene, but I only shave whenever I start looking like Kris Kringle. I do not wear sandals, as my toes are too gnarly to reveal to the general public. Children have been known to run away screaming at the mere sight of my toenails. I wear sneakers, tennis shoes, trainers, gym shoes, walking shoes, running shoes (though I never run) or plimsolls depending upon where you live. I don’t wear $200 Nike Air, rather I opt for the Costco Court Classic at $13.99. I have several pairs that I rotate and discard a pair when some important part falls off. Since I have several identical pairs, losing one shoe does not affect the utility of it's mate. I wear only white socks, Champion is my favorite brand of sock. The shoe rule applies to a lost sock or one that has become a quitter. It's mate is still in the rotation.

I have a pair of grey slacks, black shoes and dark socks for emergency use: funerals, Ruth’s Chris, etc. I wore a military uniform for twenty years and a coat and tie for several failed careers since then. Now, I will spend the rest of my life as a style less cretin. If clothes do make the man: I am unmade. The "guys" on "Queer Eye" would have a collective aneurysm if they got a load of me. That was not innuendo.

Wordless Wednesday - "Do Not Speak to Driver When Vehicle is in Motion" - 10/15/08

Sunday Scribblings - If I had to live at a different time in history - 10/12/08

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "If I had to live at a different time in history":

When I lived in Wyoming, my job often required that I drive across its lonely expanse in winter, which lasted September through May in a mild year. I had lots of time to reflect, as there were miles and miles where the only broadcasts on the radio were the cattle report or cowboy poetry readings. It always amazed me looking across the frozen, high plains, with its predominant forty mile an hour wind creating horizontal snowfall, how the pioneers survived. I had all the modern conveniences and I was still miserable during the dark months.





Interstate 80, which is one of the main arteries of the United States, linking San Francisco, Chicago, and New York, travels across southern Wyoming. This 400 mile stretch is obviously the weak link in the entire 3,000 mile journey. Interstate 80 rises to an elevation of nearly 9,000 feet near Laramie, but the mean is around 5,000 feet. I say this because there are times each winter that huge portions of it are impassable due to whiteout conditions. Gates are closed and all traffic stops. Motorists have the option of returning to the nearest town (of which there are few) or remaining in their vehicle. I have seen miles of tractor trailers parked waiting for the interstate to reopen. Every spring thaw they find motorists that elected to remain in their vehicles. And I80 is a major superhighway; you don’t even want to know about county and secondary road conditions.











Wyoming weather is extreme and unpredictable. With that in mind, consider piloting a Conestoga wagon across the prairie not knowing when a beautiful autumn day was going to turn to a deadly blizzard. I would have been a horrible member of a wagon train. I think I would prefer freezing to death to climbing into a fresh buffalo carcass to keep warm. They were an amazingly hearty people, surviving disease, weather, bandits, and Indians that did not wish to be colonized. I am not a pioneer. In spite of nearly 30 days in the Boy Scouts, I have absolutely no survival skills. I cannot start a fire without an excellerant. I could not track an animal on the beach. Every knot I have ever tied came loose on its own. I am allergic to everything that grows or blows. If I go more than eight hours without eating I become a one-man Donner Party.


My microwave stopped working the other day and it created a crisis that made me temporarily forget about my disappearing 401K. A lost remote control in my home is cause for sending out a search party. Lost car keys require the formation of a posse. As a frontiersman, I would have been considered a tenderfoot. I am all right with that.

Wordless Wednesday - Skooter Visits His Birth Daddy - 10/08/08

Skooter visited his birth daddy, Max (left). Just like all family reunions there was a lot of growling, marking of territory, and ass-licking.

Sunday Scribblings - "Forbidden" - 10/5/08

This weeks Sunday Scribbling’s prompt is “Forbidden”. This is a great word that conjures up lots of ideas. Then I came across these Dog Rules and there was only one way I could go with this.

Dog Rules
1. The dog is not allowed in the house.
2. Okay, the dog is allowed in the house, but only in certain rooms.
3. The dog is allowed in all rooms, but has to stay off the furniture.
4. The dog can get on the old furniture only.
5. Fine, the dog is allowed on all the furniture, but is not allowed to sleep with the humans on the bed.
6. Okay, the dog is allowed on the bed, but only by invitation.
7. The dog can sleep on the bed whenever he wants, but not under the covers.
8. The dog can sleep under the covers by invitation only
9. The dog can sleep under the covers every night.
10. Humans must ask permission to sleep under the covers with the dog.


Skooter is absolutely forbidden from my bed. He knows it and I know it. Somehow my position as master has been compromised. Hey, I am the superior being here. I have opposable thumbs and everything!!!!.

Wordless Wednesday - Best of Show - 10/1/08

In his first competition, Skooter narrowly wins best of show.