Sunday, February 28, 2010

I'm getting pretty tired of everything being so

damned political these days.

Someone just sent me a U-tube video of the Little Rascals, which I have not seen since Methuslah wore knickers. It made me chuckle.

I hard somewhere that someone had bought the rights to those short subjects and they would never be shown again because they were deemed so damned racist.

What a crock!

When Hal Roach made those movies there was not a single mean bone in his body. The Rascals were just kids of the era being kids. Plain and simple.

If you notice, Buckwheat and Stymie, two of the black characters, were simply members of the gang.

Kids don't generally notice little dopey details like race or color very much. They simply note the obvious, which is that maybe one of the kids IS a different color and they forget about it. It isn't until some idiot grownup points out that they are different and teaches the kid to hate.

So Buckwheat and Stymie are full fledged members of the gang, unlike some of the token minorities that seem to pop up where they are neither wanted nor respected as anything BUT token minorities to get idiots like Jesse and Al off their backs.

Of course, times have changed and there are a lot of places where color truly does not make a difference and that's good. It shouldn't. A person should be judged on their merits and only by their merits.

It really galls me that I will never again get to see the Little Rascals shorts anymore because someone has decided that they are some wierd sort of racist crap that has been read into them by someone with a chip on their shoulder.

I am going to never get to see another one of those funnt short subject movies made by Hal Roach again and see the humor in a group of kids of the 30s simply being kids.

Because of that, life will become a little bit more dreary and there will be one less thing on the planet for me to laugh about.

That truly is sad.

my other blog is:

Saturday, February 27, 2010

What part of simple

do some people fail to understand?

I was on this Internet thread earlier today. Some guy with a college aged female relative wanted to buy her a pistol for self-defense, as she probably does not live in the nicest part of town. The young woman is of legal age to own a firearm and Texas law permits this.

OK, fair enough.

I do not want to argue gun control here, so that’s not the issue at all.

So, being a shooter’s forum, the place is full of shooters, which is to be expected. Now, shooters are shooters and they are generally pretty competent with various types of firearms, in this case we are talking about pistols. Pistols are generally of two types, automatics and revolvers.

Automatics are quite a bit more complex to operate, as there are slides to be racked, magazines to be inserted; safety catches to be operated and in some cases various other mechanical contrivances to be dealt with.

Double action revolvers are a lot easier to operate. The shooter simply aims at the target being engaged and pulls the trigger. There are no safety catches, magazines or anything else to deal with. A double action revolver is simplicity at its finest.

Now gun guys know guns, but we are not talking about buying a pistol for a shooter, we are talking about buying a self-defense pistol for a college age girl. She is probably not going to be able to spend either the money or the time on practicing a whole lot, as ammunition is expensive and college kids are pretty busy. She probably has less than a passing interest in the damned pistol to begin with.

I, being fairly simple minded, suggested a basic revolver for the young lady and it opened quite a can of worms.

Someone took my post out of context and suggested that I was stating that women were stupid, when I never said any such thing. Had I been suggesting a pistol for a college aged young man I would have suggested the same thing.


Simplicity. I like keeping things simple. The simpler things are, the more likely that it is that they will go as planned.

Lets face it, if the young lady has her apartment broken into in the middle of the night, the last thing she is going to want to do is fumble with safety catches and rack a slide, which requires a certain amount of strength. She is going to want a simple tool that she can pick up and use without having to operate a somewhat complex piece of machinery.

Of course, quite a few of my fellow shooters could not fathom the idea of simplicity and were suggesting the antithesis of simplicity.

While an automatic in the hands of a well-trained person may be a very efficient tool for defense, the trained person sometimes fails to remember that they are trained and that not everyone else is.

You have to put the right tool in the right hands to make things work well.

If a person isn’t trained with a certain piece of equipment, then they are not going to reliably operate it under pressure. Training takes time and dedication and practice.

We are not talking about some Delta Force Commando here that’s going off on a raid to rescue hostages from a gang of die hard terrorists here, we’re talking about some college kid on a very limited budget that is looking for a reliable tool to be used in the unlikely event of a break in.

In a case like the one I have described, the best way to go is generally the simplest.

I suggested the simplest and then the automatic shooters piled on top of me.

I can’t see what part of simple people can’t understand until I look at the time I dealt with a hot rod guy.

I wanted an engine fixed once and played hell trying to get this gear head to replace everything stock. It got so frustrating that I took the job away from him and paid a basic mechanic a small fortune to do the job I wanted.

The hot rod guy just KNEW that he was smarter than the engineers that designed the damned engine and that he could make it run a lot better after repeated explanations that I liked it stock because I wanted durability and economy instead of speed.

It finally occurred to me that this guy had modifications stuck in his head so badly that he was not physically and mentally capable of giving me a simple stock engine.

I guess there are a lot of shooters like that and I probably just better get used to it.

Of course, there were quite a few that understood simplicity and that was a joy to know that there are people like that

A couple of days ago I did a piece on the P-38 can opener, and some of these guys are of the mentality that would require rebuilding a P-38 with a bunch of moving parts, battery packs and computer chips.

It was good to find that there were a few people that understand P-38s and other simple things well enough to leave them alone.

my other blog is:

Friday, February 26, 2010

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to do what?

Over the years I have heard countless times that it doesn't take a rocket scientist to do this or that.

Well guess what, Pal?

I AM a rocket scientist, or at least used to be.

If you look in my High School yearbook under my name, it says I was a memeber of the rocket club for all 4 years of High School.

Now shut up.

Over the years, it has brought me great joy to explain to the person using the "It doesn't take a rocket scientist" line on me that I really am one.

It always draws a look of shock on the person's face. They don't really know what to say.

Now, granted, NASA never hired me and I am not an aerospace engineer, but I could take a sextent and figure out how high a rocket went when we launched one, or at least have some idea.

I used to calculate which engines wouuld send which rocket how high and how long of a delay a rocket engine should have before it fired the parachute deployment charge.

The latter was important, especially on a breezy day because when the parachute deployed at too high an altitude, the rocket would be blown quite a distance and often get lost.

Too great a delay and the chute would not deploy and the rocket would auger in and be destroyed.

There were a lot of little calculations and things i did as a kid in the rocketry game and I had fun doing them.

One of the things we would do is use the roof of Nick's garage as a target because it had a corrugated metal roof and Nick was a pretty good guy. He'd hear the thing hit his roof and drop what he was doing and let us climb up and retrieve it.

We didn't hit it every time, but we got pretty good at figuring the trajectory and would compensate for windage. A body shop roof really isn't a big target, but we did pretty good at trying to hit it.

In fact, as recently as a couple of years ago a neighbor , who knew I did this as a kid, drafted me to help him with his kid's science fair project and it was good to learn I hadn't forgotten much. Model rocketry hasn't changed a lot since I was a kid.

So I guess I still am a rocket scientist.

Pretty neat, huh?

So, OK. That makes me a rocket scientist

my other blog is:

Thursday, February 25, 2010

I have been watching the news tonight and

it seems to me that there are a lot of people out there are not too bright.

While my heart goes out to the family members of the whale trainer that was killed out in Washington State, one has to look at the plain and simple fact that working with several tons of unpredictible sea mammel isn't really the safest line of work you can go into.

Back in the early sixties, I had a teacher whose son was injured in Vietnam. He was a West Point graduate and took a gunshot wound and survived. I mentioned it to my dad, who commented that the man was a professional and knew what kind of chance he was taking when he enrolled at West Point.

He also commented that what WAS a shame is when some poor bastard that had been drafted took a hit.

Looking back on it, he was right. Being a professional soldier is a risky venture and when you take that route, you know that you are taking a certain chance.

It goes with the job.

Auto racers face risks every time they enter a race. Over the years, there have been quite a number fo accidents involving the motor sports.

The same thing holds true with working with animals.

Steve Irwin was killed at a young age when he got speared by a sea animal.

Roy Horn was the victim of a tiger attack in Las Vegas a while back during a show.

Let's face it, there are risks assiciated with certain trades, and not all of them are like the military or motor sports where the risks are publicized openly.

Let's look at animals for a minute. For one thing, they are somewhat unpredictible. For another thing, when an animal is taken into captivity, they go through a lot of changes and one really never knows what they are going to do next.

While a house cat may simply make a mess, unexpectidly scratch an owner or tear something up, a huge tiger or something else altogether. They are large and powerful and capable of tremendous damage in an instant. You can not let your guard down for an instant.

Working with animals is a risky venture. There isn't a vetinarian out therre that hasn't been bitten or scratched at least once.

The risks are compounded when the size of the animal increases. A several hundred pound tiger is a lot more dangerous than a seven pound house cat.

While my heart goes out to the family of the trainer that was killed, i have to say that it should not have come as a complete surprise.

my other blog is:

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Hurry up and wait seems to be a game that has

a reputation of being a military thing but it is not.

It's everywhere and it is probably dispised as much in civilian life as it is with the GIs.

The game is played often by a lot of people, mostly impatient ones. You can see it at doctors offices all the time.

Some jerk is afraid of being late so he shows up two hours early, either because he has high hopes of getting to see the doctor early or he thinks he's going to get brownie points for getting there early, of for some other unfathomable reason.

So he gets there early and paces or fidgits and becomes a major annoyance to everybody else that is waiting patiently. It doesn't take long before everyone else in the waiting room wants to stangle the imbicile.

Personally, I like getting there, maybe 5 or 10 minutes before the appointment to get the paperwork squared away in the unlikely event that the doctor is actually going to see me on time. It actually happened once. I really did get to see a doctor in time.

Of course, therre is generally a guy there playing the game and he drives me half stark staring dippy. I want to strangle the guy, but I am not in the habit of bringing a guitar string with me to the doctors. For some reason, I keep forgetting to bring one with me.

When I was in the army, the game was played on a much greater level.

generally a company sized unit, say 150 guys, would show up an hour for something only to find upon arrival that the thing they have arrived early for is going to be late.

Then you have 150 guys milling around bored to tears and pretty upset about having to stand out in the rain because things like this generally happen on miserable days.

The griping goes on and on. It gets old fast, yet poor old GI Joe has to stand there with his cohorts ont in the rain and miserable over some idiots bright idea of getting them there an hour early.

Still, the game is played out in the civvie world, too. It's generally poor scheduling on managements part.

Tug skippers are famous for this game. They constantly arrive at docks hours too early only to find nobody at the docks to catch lines. What's funny about it is watching them carry on in astonishment that there is nobody there.

Hey, everyone is expecting you to show up on schedule, not several hours early.

When the tug and barge does show up early, the dock people have to be notified, inspectors have to drop what they are doing and a lot of times they have to cancel things at the last minute.

A lot of lives are thrust into panic, a lot of people are upset and a lot of things go on in a haphazard way and, of course, to top it off, the skipper of the tug generally brags about getting there early.

Over the years I have told a few skippers that breaking their ETAs upsets the entire rhythm of the trip. My pleas always fall on deaf ears. After all, he's not the one that has to deal with an angry cargo inspector that has had to cancel something he had been planning for some time.

Generally, I am the one that has to deal with the fallout of an early arrival.

Getting older has taught me patience in some areas and taken what little patience I did have in others.

One of the things I have no patience for is playing Hurry Up and Wait.

my other blog is:

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Last night beforebed I had an excellent idea

fortoday's blog,but this morningIcan'tremember what it was for the life of me.

I should have written it down because now I have to think up something to write about, which I alerady have.

Some people have great memories for stuff like that, but I don''t. Million dollar ideas just slip through me, yet I can identify every single person in my second grade photograph, which is wierd.

This is no new development, I've been that way for years and years. At work and just about everywhere else I carry a pad and use it for things I deem important.

One of the things I do is lay things out in order to remind me of where it goes and/or when.

Of course, there is an enemy to this mad method.

Enter the compulsive cleaner-upper. This person will ruin you every time.

Back when I was traveling by 25' sailboat, the auxillary engine was a Honda 9.9 outboard. The engine ran fine, but the recoil started ate ropes like nobody's business. I got a spare recoil starter and could change them out in seconds.

I would put the broken one right on the deck of the main salon where it would be kicked and tripped over until I fixed it and stowed it because I knew that if I put it in the proper drawer, it would be forgotten.

A bitter fight developed over this because my shipmate was a compulsive cleaner upper.He would put it away, and out of sight meant out of mind and it would not get fixed. He'd put it away, I'd put it back on deck. Finally I got a lag and bolted it to the deck and there it stayed until I fixed it.

Only then would it go back into the drawer.

Of course, right now there are oil samples that are unlabeled laying next to their respective engines and they were pulled a couple of days ago. They will stay there until this afternoon when I will use that as an excuse to make another round during the cargo transfer.

It generally takes a chewing out before the compulsive cleaners get the message to leave things like that alone.

It is a crude, primitive systen, I'll admit, but it works.

I'll admit that having a weakness like that can be a problem, but you can generally work around things like that if you are willing to improvise and work at overcoming it. It just means you have to work a little harder.

Gotta go, the radio just went off.

Pic, out

my other blog is:

Monday, February 22, 2010

I am due off of this slab in a week

and the weather is just starting to break.

Shooting season is coming up and I think I will be fairly active this year. I sort of gave it a bit of a rest for the 2009 season. This year is going to be a bit different.

I'm going to go for it and start getting after the guys in the club to start paying a little attention to my scores. Over the years they have been lax about sending the scores into the NRA and I am only carrying a Marksman's card in my wallet even though I have been shooting Sharpshooters scores for years.

I have let this slide as I really do not sweat the small stuff and I have been a shooter mainly as an exercise in self-improvement, but I think it's now time to get myself some credentials in the service rifle catagory. Lord knows I'm eligible and overdue for this.

Mrs Pic also expressed some interest in learning the fine art of rifle marksmanship and that's pretty unusual. She's been quite a bright spark lately and if she wants to spend some time with me on the range, that's a good thing.

Hell, I might just build her a kit rifle to use if she decides to shoot an actual match. I haven't built a rifle in years.

Of course, early March can go to holy hell in a heartbeat, but we'll see how things work out.

We'll see.

my other blog is:

Sunday, February 21, 2010

If anyone out there has ever watched

the Deadliest Catchon the Discovery channel, they might be surprised to know that I was one of the stars of the show.

Not the show itself, but I did fish those waters in the 80s.

I didn't care much for fishing with iron boxes very much, but I truly enjoyed the halibut fishery. We caught them on longlines, which were long lines of rope with a leaded and a hook spliced in every, say two fathoms. The hook is baited and the longline weighted and laid out on the ocean bottom to soak a while.

Then the groundline is retrieved, fairleaded between a pair of rollers and a hydraulis sheave pulles it up.

That's where the fun begins.

The guy that is next to the roller is called the roller man and as the fish appear, he gaffs them in the cheek and yards them aboard.

Running the roller is wothout a doubt so much fun it should be illegal.

The entire fishery is brutal. Everything about it is savage. You gaff fish, and throw the damned thing into the checkerboards, a bin of sorts. From there, the fish is hauled onto the cleaning table, whacked on the snout with a baseball bat, gutted and thrown into the hold, which is full of ice and seawater. Old School Norwegiens used to fill the belly cavity, called the poke, with ice until the 'champagne sysyem' of mixinh ice and seawater was developed.

I loved sticking a gaff into those huge flat fish, some of whom were bigger than a 4x8 sheet of plywood. Of course, the big ones required help from the rest of the guys, but you would be astonished to see how big of a fish one guy could haul in alone if he knew how to time the movement of the boat. A roller man that knew his stuff would often lookk like Superman.

The hours were brutal, too. If the opening was 48 hours, generally a guy would be up for about 60 hours straight. Getting punchy was half of the fun, as was describing your hallucinations to your fellow crewman.

My favorite hallucination, except for mermaids, was a huge purple brontasaurus walking across the ocean. Of course, mermaids were everyone's favorite.

Most people don't know where mermaids come from, but I do. I know they exist, too.

That's because I seen 'em.
It sure was a fun way to make a living.

my other blog is:

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The snow is melting pretty quickly on the boat,

which is a good sign.

The snow is/was an annoyance and I hae having it. It is a joy to watch it disappear, even though it means having to change shoes because it becomes water and you sometimes get you fee wet when you pull a scupper plug out to drain it.

It is a joy to watch the snow disappear.

I am presently enjoying a period of weather that is above freezing now and the snow on the steel deck is turning to water.

In addition to my usual rounds, I fully intend to enjoy the day by taking occasional walks around the deck specifically for the puropse of watching the snow melt.

It is a joy.

my other blog is:

Friday, February 19, 2010

I had to use my P-38 today, which is no big thing

because I use it quite often. There was a loose screw I had to deal with so instead of running to the toolbox I took the P-38 from around my neck, tightened up the screw and that was that.

Of course, someone commented that the proper tool to do the job was a screwdriver and I promptly told him to do sommething anatomically impossible.

It wasn't the first screw I have tightened with the little tool, and it won't be the last.

For those of you that are unfamiliar with the little tool, it is a GI can opener that was designed to open C-ration cans during the second World War. Every soldier going ashore on Omaha Beach had one on his dogtag chain. It stayed in service well into the late 80s because the current MRE rations are packaged in plastic and it officially made the P-38 obselete.

Still, I'd say there are a hell of a lot of current day GIs in Afghanistan that have bought them at Army-Navy stores and carry them.

I wear one on a cord around my neck with a single dogtag;both will be buried at sea with me.

The little tool os a little more than an inch bi about a half inch and there is a little folding blade. I still have my original from basic training and it still works as well as it did when I first got it. Actually, it works better.

Back in the army, I was sitting down next to a captain and he looked at the little tool thoughtfully and commented that it was probably the most efficient tool the army ever had, and that one day someone will come up with the P-38A1 with a bunch of moving parts and it wouldn't open a can worth a hoot.

How right he was. They redesigned it for a while, but the troops started getting their hands on the old ones from outside sources and the army went back to the original.

The P-38 is a hell of a lot more than a can opener. It's a multi tool of sorts in it's own right. Mine has tightened screws, dug splinters out of my hands, ripped seams, scraped things and God only knows what else. I'm constantly using it for something.

I think my original cost the government a nickel, a deal at twice the price.

The best part of it is that it's so damned simple.

Whoever thought that little jewel up ought to have been given a pension for life.

In fact, I would put it on the list of the 10 best things the government has ever done right. Maybe even at the top of the list. At least pretty damned close.

my other blog is:

Thursday, February 18, 2010

I am trying to get the Tarzan yell as the ringtone

on my cell phone. It may take an act of congress because Tracfone makes a big deal out making me use their ringtone selection, which is limited.

I'm going to write them and see if they'll make one for me.

Now, the Tarzan yell is a very interesting piece of Americana. Almost everyone has heard it and most people recognize it.

When anyone over thirty hears it, they generally start looking around to see which direction the elephants are coming from. They know what it means.

The official Tarzan yell was originated by Johnny Weissmuller, who was one of the original portrayers of Tarzan in the movies. He actually created the one of a kind trademark for all Tarzans to follow. Almost every single Tarzan that has followed Weissmuller on the silver screen has used the original Weissmuller yell, dubbing it in as nobody since has been able to imitate it.

I suppose most of the kids today haven't seen the Tarzan movies with Johnny Weissmuller, because kids today seem to require things like color and special effects, but as a kid they were on TV in the 50s and 60s. I saw them all.

Great entertainmment full of vine swinging, alligator rassling and when Tarzan decided that he didn't like having Jane being held in a native village, he'd give the famous yell and the elephants would come charging through the village.

It was the kind of movie a mother could send a kid to without having to wonder if the kid would come home afterwards and ask mom why none of the actors had any clothes on.

In short, pretty good decent, wholesome entertainment, the type of which seems to be in short supply these days.

From time to time, the yell shows up in some pretty improbable places, and invariable it make me grin.

I think by now anyone that has been reading my blog knows that I am a person that sticks with the classics and does not follow the latest fads. The classics are timeless and always stay in style because they are the classics.

The Tarzan yell is a one of a kind classic.

I want it as my ringtone.

If anyone out there has nothing to do, please goo to the tracfone website and open the 'contact us' page and send them a request to add the official Tarzan yell to their selection of available ringtones. Thanks.

my other blog is:

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

We're a little busy today

I'm transferrring cargo.

Maybe later we'll discuss some form of stupidity like the time I told a police officer I was taking a truckload of snow to Miami so some fat cat could have a snowball fight on 'Girls gone wild'.

my other blog is:

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Form time to time, an internet radio station asks me

to do a little bit, maybe a couple of minutes.

I do this when I am home because I really can't schedule anything when I am at work.

I am seriously thinking of taking my little 'radio spot' on the road and doing my next spot live from Wally World.

Maybe see what's on special, check out some of the customers and in general give a situation report on what's going on at the local Supercenter.

I'm not going to post some of my ideas here, but I have a couple of pretty good ideas for interviewing a few people there.

I'll get back with you on this when/ if it happens because it sounds like an awful lot of fun.

my other blog is:

Monday, February 15, 2010

I got a haircut today and it was pretty interesting.

Actually, it wasn't a haircut, it was a shave.

I had stopped shaving about a week or so ago because of the heavy snows. I was growing my beard back, but today I decided not to as the years have turned my facial hair into a color that makes me look likke a derelict if I don't shave unless I braek out the Grecian formula.

The Grecian formula thing ain't gonna happen, so it was time to shave.

Being next to a barbershop it was too easy to let someone else mow my face.

While sitting there I watched one of the three barbers cut the hair of a couple of young guys. The man was an artist. A true artist.

The young guys were black, and from the looks of their hair, it was pretty hard to cut in the style that they seemed to want, yet that barber made it look pretty easy.

He was patient, and pretty painstaking and really took his time. You could see from his face that he was concentrating on the customers face and head shape and taking all things into consideration.

He didn't seem to be fighting with the natural curl of the customers hair, but using it to his aadvantage.

All in all, it was a pretty neat thing to watch.

The guy that shaved me was no slouch, either, but a shave on an old goat like me is a very straight forward thing. I really didn't get to see his talent.

I'm seriously thinking of letting my hair grow for a few months and walking in and seeing what that excellent barber can do to an old white guys hair.

Betcha he makes me look pretty damned good.

my other blog is:

Sunday, February 14, 2010

I saw on the news yesterday that the troops

are in Afghanistan on a major mission of some sort, which is hrdly anything new.

The media was funny when they reported that the troops were finding weapons and explosives. They carried on with total surprise at such news.

Gee! Who'da ever thought those soldiers and Marines would have found guns and explosives when they raided Taliban headquarters?

What are they thinking?

It's like listening to them report that there are criminals in Folsom prison.

They really sound stupid, which isn't news, either.

In other news, water is wet.

my other blog is:

Saturday, February 13, 2010

there is a shipmate I have out here that is about

as old as I am. We're the old goats out here.

We're bickered for years, and we hope to bicker for quite a few more years.

Truth is, we get along just fine.

The first time our current skipper watched it happen he was a little dubious, but quickly realized it was just for show and that we were a pretty good team. FOr a brief time it annoyed him, but now it is just music to his ears.

The younger guys are pretty amused watching the 2 old goats out here rant and rave at each other like a couple of little kids, which is fine.

I'm always telling him not to break my deck line when he has to pull on them, which is ridiculous as we're talking about a guy about sixty pulling on a poly-dacron deck line about 2.5 inches in diameter.

Another time I told a new guy to stand clear of old Lefty because when he gets to pulling on a line he sucks all the oxygen out of the air and he'd most likely pass out. The kid stepped back about fifteen feet, much to the amusement of the rest of the guys.

One time I took a length of deck line that had parted and instead of splicing it, I joined it with duct tape. Then I handed the end to Lefty. Of course, when he pulled on it, it broke, and when it did I chewed out Lefty for busting yet ANOTHER one of my decklines.

The looks of astonishment by the rest of the crew were quickly replaced with sheepish looks as they quickly realized they had been conned by a couple of old salts.

Enter the newbie.

He tried to side with me once and I bit his head off.

Of course, he got all hurty and wimpered off and decided to side with Lefty the next time, only to get his head bit off again by Lefty. The crew was greatly amused, and the following day one of the guys told the newbie that he'd watched the 2 of us for quite a while and warned him never to get between the pair of us.

Guys like Lefty are a joy to work with. They make coming out here fun.

I've been here in my present capacity for twenty years and without someone like Lefty it would be nowhere near as much fun as it is.

Guys like him make the world go round.

my other blog is:

Friday, February 12, 2010

Today I am earning my money

I am transferring cargo and do not have time to make a decent post.

my other blog is:

Thursday, February 11, 2010

I heard that this snow has shut down the

government and it's costing us 100 million dollars a day.

For the way they have been spending money, I'd say that this snowstorm has SAVED the taxpayers a hell of a lot more than that.

my other blog is:

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

I hate snow

We're tied up here and getting clobbered with it.

I will have to go out and shovel it.

Rain I do not mind, as when it stops, it disappears.

Any day I shovel snow is not a good day.

Maybe more later

It's later. We're still getting wallopped...

There are 2 schools of thought here, and they are at odds.

One school says wait until it stops, while the other says keep after it.

I am of the school that does not like doing things several times, although when it gets so high, I'll go out and chip away at it.

I am hoping that the cargo we load is over 32 degrees because if it is, even if it's, say 35 degrees, then 90% of the work will be done naturally with less busting of ass.

We'll see.

my other blog is:

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

I think that come summer I am going to scout

Craigslist for a snow blower.

July 4th weekend sounds like a pretty good time.

Maybe I'll advertise for one and offer $100 and the fortunes of idiocy will shine upon me and I will score. Some chump will decide that he needs a case of beer and a bottle for the weekend of the 4th more than he needs a snowblower in July.

I'll probably wind up with a gently used model worth about a grand for about $100.

I will be somewhat surprised if I do not score.

Now, this snow blower will get tuned up carefully and put into storage until Thanksgiving, upon which time I will break it out and ready it for action.

This will insure that we have very little, if any snow next winter, which is fine by me.

my other blog is:

Monday, February 8, 2010

A truly frigged up day

Weather lousy, have to go in early, new cell phone doesn't work for sour apples and I'm supposed to go on Radio Free Arfcom tonight.


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Sunday, February 7, 2010

A certain amount of harmless mutiny among

the troops is probably a healthy thing.

When I served I was part of a small delinquint sub culture that was always quoting parts of Joseph Heller's 'Catch-22'.

Right now I am sitting next to a Betty Grable pinup, which fits right into the context of the room's decor.

Of course, Betty has never really disappeared and is probably pretty recognizable even to the current generation. At least most people have seen the pinup.

Suppose she were to re emerge into GI culture, and started popping up in, say tool boxes in a motor pool or storage lockers or places like that?

That's when you'd see two kinds of officers emerge. Smart ones and dumb ones.

Both types of officers would see it for what it is, a small act of mutiny on the part of the lower ranking enlisted men.

The smart ones would overlook it to a certain extent. They'd go through the pro forma act of scowling or showing displeasure of some sort. (Then they would go and chuckle about it at the O club or have a laugh at an Officer's call)But they would not out and out forbid it. They would let the fever burn itself out.

Enter the dumb officer, who would instantly consder something like that to ba a total affront to good order and discipline. He would immediately order the removal of all the pinups and ban the sale, manufactur, posession, ownership and viewing of poor old Betty in his command.

Of course, the order is likely to be flouted, and the whole little movement might just go underground. On the other hand, the order might just be obeyed, but you can bet that everyone in the lower ranks is going to remember just who it wa that spoiled their harmless little fun. Paybacks can be hell.

Generally speaking, when some dopey little thing like this happens, the top dogs ought to just rant and rave a little just to add to the lower ranks fun, but let the fever run it's course.

Little mutinys don't last very long, they are good for morale and that's probably a healthy thing for everyone involved.

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Saturday, February 6, 2010

I actually found a package of good old fashioned


Not pushpins, but thumbtacks.

With brass heads, the kind that are supposed to be used for putting old school pinups on the inside of doors, sea chests and cubicle walls.

As I write this, on my left, is a-actually THE- official WW2 picture of Betty Grable and she is stuck to the wall with the proper fastener of the era.

It doesn't take much to make me a happy camper.

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Thursday, February 4, 2010

There is one thing among men that bridges the

generation gap.

It is the Three Stooges.

You can put an 85 year old man and a 16 year old with a purple Mohawk and a dozen body piercings on either end of the couch.

Now, neither of them have much of anything in common whatsoever and there will be an uncomfortable silence between them. The tension will grow so thick between the pair of thm that you can cut it with a knife.

Enter the Stooges.

Turn on a TV set and tune it in to just about any early episode of the Stooges and within a short time, the two of them will start playfully slapping each other and doing Curley imitations.

Generally it takes about two minutes to get things started between the two.

Yesterday the furnace guys installed a new furnace. They actually got it running so there was no cold night. It was touch and go, they Mickey Moused it a little and will return today to make it right. Great Day in the Morning!

Posted 5 Feb. The reason for the date is because I wrote it last night and saved it as a draft.

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It's new furnace day at the house

which is likely to turn into a three ring circus because I live in Pennsylvania and the furnace is supposidly being shipped from Texas.

It's due in here at noon. I am dubious because I am a believer in the O'Toole corollary to Murphy's Law. This corollary reads as such: Murphy was an optimist.

Now, the guys have been in the basement getting things ready and doing the prep work as I write and they told me to turn up the heat as high as I can because it is cold out and there is not going to be a furnace in the house for the rest of the day.

Fact is, if the damned furnace doesn't get here on time, it's going to be a long cold night.

Of course, it's not the furnace arriving on time that I really fear. Generally speaking, that's not the headache.It's a pretty good bet that the furnace will show up on time.

The headache comes when you end up freezing your ass off all night because someone forgot to install the dollar seventy-nine cent One Each Mk IV,BC-603, A-11-2 multiple use Frammis pin in the furnace and the guys don't have a spare one kicking around.

When that happens, you're screwed.

Like I always say, it's the little stuff that gets you.

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Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Someone made my life just a little bit easier today

and it didn't take much.

I had to pee, which I have been told happens to all of us on a somewhat frequent basis.

I walked into a place and asked to use the restroom and the guy simply hooked his thumb and said, "Thataway, third door down".

Cool! In a minute business was taken care of.

A couple of weeks ago I did the same thing somewhere else and I got a ration of this "Are you a customer" crap. It was at a place I had done business at several times before.

I explained that I had shopped there before, but I didn't need anything today.

No dice. Not buying anything? Can't use the rest room.

I won that one.

I told the guy to get a mop, as if I couldn't use the restroom I woud wet my pants right here and on the spot.

He started to call my bluff, but when he saw me suck in a breath and relax, he reconsidered. I got to use the rest room, as he decided it would be a lot easier than having to mop up a quart of urine.

Still, I'm not going to shop there again.

Enough is enough.

Who needs people like that?

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Tuesday, February 2, 2010

I hate being rushed by do gooders.

They ought to at least make sure you've commited a crime before they hang you.

Yesterday I pulled into the medical imaging place to get a business card from them because I was passing by and I have an upcoming appointment. It was just a case where it would have been easier to stop then fish through the phone book because I know where the place is, but not the name that''s in the phone book.

So I pulled in and there were 4 parking spaces near the door and they were empty.


At least until I was halfway in and saw they were reserved for pregnant women and new mothers.I stopped, because I generally play by the rules.

Just as I was shifting into reverse, I heard a loud female voice shouting to me that I was parking in an expectant mom space.

Now, it more than obvious that I was moving to another space, yet here is the self-appointed Pregnant Lady Parking Space Sheriff getting ready to throw my ass in jail for conspiracy to park illegally.

I looked, decided that four pregnant women were not likely to pull into the spaces inside the next three or four minutes, so I drove in and parked.

"It's OK, Ma'am. I'm an expectant mother," I said."I'm going in there for a sex change operation and then I, too, will be the proud mother of an 8 pound 12 ounce baby boy."

"What?" She looked a bit confused.

I turned on the warmth. "If you want my penis, I'm sure the doctor will attach it to you in an operation called an addadicktome. You look like you'd make a very proud father."


"I parked in the wrong goddam space and I'm moving...The hell I am! I'm staying right here!"

And with that I shut the engine off, got out of the truck went into the building. I was out in three minutes, she was gone, I hopped back in, fired it up and drove off.

I was faced with a choice and I made it.

I could have either been aggravated or I could have had a little fun being a smart ass.

Still, I hate people that create problems where they are none.

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Monday, February 1, 2010

Happy Valentine's month

As made famous by none other than Al Capone.

Nothing like a good Old School mob hit, complete with Tommy Guns to put a day in thee history books.

Of course this is also the month for those obnoxious Jareds ads, which I dispise.

The ads make women appear to be little more that cheap little money grubbing bimbos and they make men look like they're stupid enough to play into that little game.

One thing I would do if I hit a BIG lottery would be to buy the ad spot after the damned Jareds ad for my own.

Geico would be amused;

The ad would be the 'He took her to Jareds' crap until they got to some sailor looking guy Who would rip off Geico.

"Big deal, he took her to Jareds. I just got GREAT news!"

"You're taking the Mrs to Jareds?"

"No. I just saved a bunch of money on jewelry by switching to hookers."

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