I ran into a Marine that was griping about the Air Force

He was being a Marine which is to say he was griping about how the Air Force guy was set up in an air conditioned tent sitting behind a computer. He was out in the heat of the day, of course, because that is what Marines do.

I told the Marine that if he had a single lick of sense he would WANT the Air Force guy in the air conditioned tent where he would be able to be sharp and attentive. He wanted the Airdale just the right side of chilly so he would be alert and on his toes.

The Marine caved in on that one because I didn't even get a "yeah, but..." out of him.

7777777777777777

Yesterday the mail guy saved me a trip to the post office.

Every now and then I hand him a cup of coffee or a coke and yesterday it paid off. He had a package that required a signature. Instead of leaving me a note to go to the P.O. to pick the package up he chased me down. 

When he found me I signed and took the package. It saved me from having to go to the zoo scene at the local post office.

What goes around comes around.

One of the neighbors thinks it is unfair the way the mail and trash guys treat me but another neighbor told her that it would happen to her if she'd just work at it a little.






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It has been a pretty good year.

I feel like writing now and feel a ramble coming on. It is one of those moods I fear I might slip into drink. There is only a half-bottle of bourbon in the house so it is not worth it. I think I'll write. A half-bottle is not worth pulling the cork off in this mood. Better I write. Yes, please tune up your sarcasm meters. It has actually been years decades since I have done anything that serious. 

I have the books almost balanced and have done a pretty good job of living up to my code of always repaying a kindness or settling a slight.

Actually the settling of slights isn't really that bad. You truly have to work at getting me upset. I will let just about anything guided by ignorance, stupidity or accident sluff of of me like water off a duck's back.

Malice is another thing altogether. That is never allowed to slide. I won't get into things here because it is very possible that what I did may or may not be out and out criminal. Whatever. The matter is now settled unless he wants to continue things. I doubt he will. He's not buried in my back yard. He's very much alive and now thinks that if he does cross me again he will be buried in my back yard.

If you are so damned curious that you just have to know, I will say that I actually didn't do anything illegal as such. I just simply didn't do something and let them do the damage to themselves. It is not really physical. It's mental. 

I also managed to chase down another person I owed a thank you a few months ago. It was a woman I met during my travels about 30 years ago that helped me along in life. She is about 15 years older than I am and back in the 80s we had a brief affair of sorts. She taught me a lesson I have never forgotten. We both managed to keep an eye of sorts on each other via mutual friends.

I heard she was going to be in Ohio so I called her and we spoke person to person for the first time in about 30 years. We agreed to meet for lunch so I drove to Ohio. Actually I found out that my debt to her was not one way. I never knew it but I had helped her out in the process of being helped. 

It's rather funny how things all seem to come out in the wash. We had an enjoyable lunch and swapped notes. Shortly after she and I parted ways she met someone and while they never married, they have been together for damned near 30 years.

It seemed she gave me the gift of confidence and I inadvertently introduced her to her mate of the past 30 years.

The other two are debts I can never repay because both of the people I owe are dead. One I did manage to settle up with in a way after he was gone. I found out a year after the fact and arranged to have a bottle of Remy Martin cognac dumped on his grave which is to say dumped into the Pacific Ocean because he was buried at sea.

The other is a rather odd debt. I didn't find out who I owed for a few years until I ran into someone a couple of years later in Ketchikan.

Just before I left Kodiak in my sailboat for the last time I came aboard and found an envelope on the galley table. It contained a $100 bill and a note that said, 'Follow your dreams!'. I didn't find out who left it for a a couple of years.

The man that left it was simply another liveaboard in the small boat harbor. He was basically unemployed and the $100 represented one hell of a lot of money at the time. Why he did that I will never know.

A couple of years later in Ketchikan I ran into a mutual friend who let me know it was Rob that had left me the note and the money. He also let me know that Rob was no longer with us. A few months after I left he was found dead. No details save that it was possibly his own hand as he had been diagnosed with a health issue a few months beforehand.

Still, the debt had to be repaid and I repaid it simply by passing it on. Over the years I have helped a number of total strangers continue their adventures with a quick unsolicited donation so in a way I suppose that evens things up.

As things stand now I've pretty much cleaned out that part of my bucket list out with one exception. I owe an old high school classmate a face to face thank you. I would really like to clear that one up.

Actually there is another that comes to mind as I write this. It is truly strange. I managed to track this one down after all these years.

A few years back when we were cleaning out the family manse I found a letter addressed to me through my mother. It was post dated September, 1986. The return address was in feminine handwriting and my address was written on it by yet another long dead friend. I recognized the handwriting.

The man that addressed it was killed in a skiff accident off the coast of New Jersey. A year later I was in the area he was killed and returned a Zippo to him by throwing it over the side of the boat I was on, hence returning it to his owner via Davy Jones.

The return address on the letter, in feminine handwriting had no name on it but the letter was signed with a name I did not recognize. It was from a city on Oregon and that provided me with a clue. It was a simple thank you letter for something I didn't remember doing. I put it aside for a while and forgot about it until several months later when I had some enforced time off from an injury.

I went digging on line and figured out who she was. I did remember her, but not by the name she signed the letter with. I had known her by her alias. She had worked in Kodiak as a hooker for several months.

If you are reading this and did not spend any time in Kodiak in the '80s it will likely wonder. If you did spend time there in the '80s you will grin. At the time it was quite possible to see the mayor, a fisherman, a hooker and the guy that ran the dump sitting at the same table having breakfast together. Kodiak was that kind of place. Racial, social and financial equality at its finest.

Anyway, the hooker that had written me was the same one I had taken to midnight mass a Christmas or two earlier. I wrote about the incident in Piccolo's Hash a few years ago. It's there. Google 'Piccolo's Hash' and dig around. Here's a cut and paste link:  http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/last-night-someone-said-to-me-that-hes.html.

I thought of not answering the old letter. Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. On the other hand, the woman was living in an Oregon fishing town and the fishing community is small. I was certain that in that town her career in Kodiak was pretty likely well know in town. I sent her a letter to the hair styling place.

A couple weeks later I got one back. She was amazed to hear about the 20 year old letter. She also reported she's doing quite well with both her hair styling business and a number of rental properties. She is one of the very, very few woman to survive prostitution. Most wander into drugs and die young.

It's nice hearing that someone is still alive and doing well.

I have to put this epistle down for now as it is getting late and I want to get my mind away from this sort of thing. I will explain in the morning.

I bagged this last night because it was getting late and I did now want to start drinking hard liquor to avoid getting a visit from the ghosts.

What? Ghosts? 

Yes, ghosts. Not to be mistaken for the demons that I have exorcised long ago. I have not had a visit from the demons in over two decades since I returned a Zippo to a friend of mine via Davy Jones. Before then a visit from demons in the night was a very, rare occurrence unlike a friend of mine I roomed with for a while.

Vietnam had been less than a decade earlier and he was carrying something from it that he never shared. I was sensitive enough not to pry. It finally came out one night over a bottle of Glenlivet and while it was somewhat ugly it clearly was not his fault. He was carrying the blame for someone else.

He later said that things got a lot better after he told me about what had happened. Actually he had done nothing wrong. Someone else had stumbled into a Claymore mine he had set after being specifically told to stay clear of the area. He felt responsible.

While I do not have demons that come in the night, I generally get a brief visit from the ghosts of the old gang of '78 along with a few others. The guys from the winter of '85-6 sometimes appear, too.

More often than not, at sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas I get a visit from the ghosts. It is not really a fearful experience. It's actually both a warm and sad experience.

The truth is there are only two of us left and the other one is living in a small cabin in eastern Washington. He's scratching out somewhat of an impoverished living doing odd jobs.

The rest of us are dead. 

Commercial fishing misadventures seemed to be the cause of the bulk of it. However, there were airplane accidents and a myriad of other causes including a murder, a couple of suicides and a number of overdoses.

A couple of years ago I really pissed off a policeman that was working narcotics and trying to bust a heroin dealer. I asked him why he was wasting his time on a self-solving problem.

When hes aid he was trying to save lives I pointed out that they really didn't want their lives saved. If they did want to live they would either have checked into rehab or avoided heroin in the first place. 

Someone once said that I survived because I avoided a whole lot of winter commercial fishing. I disagree. I attribute my survival and longevity to having avoided the drug scene. 

He countered that commercial fishing snuffed more lives out than drugs. I pointed out that a lot of fishing activity was actually based around drugs. Drugs cost money and drug users generally took more chances and as a result suffered much higher casualties.

I had only fished with family types and avoided druggies. Family types tended to run for cover in heavy weather faster than druggies did. They had wives and kids to come home to. Druggies only had dealers to come home to. They generally owed them money. As I sit here writing I can think of a half-dozen boats I refused to fish on that have since gone down with all hands. Of the half-dozen, five come to mind as having had crews that were in one way or another involved with hard drugs.

Strangely enough, the reason I avoided the drug scene was not because of fear of addiction or the crap the stuff the establishment ragged us with.

At an early age I noticed that most people that wound up getting beaten up, ripped off or were suffering major financial woes shared hard drug use in common. It was either that or heavy alcoholism.

The fact that I have been under DOT drug testing has not really changed things for me. I don't have a thing for drugs and actually look forward to going to work because there is no temptation to even have a drink there. I used to kid the guys that I came to work to dry out. I know of some guys that really DO come to work to dry out.

I recently told this to a young man of about thirteen in front of his parents. The mother looked quite alarmed, the father not so much. The father later questioned me about my attitude and I defended myself by explaining that the truth steels a person. I also pointed out that the lies the government told us back in the day only served to weaken their arguments. 

Anyone that has ever been treated to a "Marijuana: Teenage killer' type of thing knows that it is nothing but a complete, total crock based entirely on lies. If they lied to us about pot then they are most likely lying about everything else, too. When I pointed this out to the kid's father he admitted my argument made a lot of sense.

The paradox here is the guy that smokes an occasional joint here and there has fewer headaches than a drinker does. Back in the day I was known for being able to conjure up a bottle of excellent scotch and a pack of Camels out of seemingly thin air. I will say that I learned early to avoid gin and tequila. 

I suppose I should avoid alcohol use entirely. I have had my moments while using it, although it has never gotten completely out of control. I occasionally wander in and out of periods of hard drinking. As things stand right now, I have wandered out of it simply because I have stopped smoking cigarettes about three weeks ago and a beer or a snort is a cigarette trigger. I do have to stop smoking cigarettes.

Someone once told me that I seem to casually wander in and out of places where angels fear to tread and maybe they are right, maybe not. I am proud of the fact that I have little to hide. I feel comfortable telling anyone about my life.

While it hasn't been straight out of 'Leave it to Beaver', it hasn't been out of 'Helter Skelter', either. It has been at least interesting. Had it been like the Beav I likely would have just jumped decades ago.

The guy that I returned the Zippo to a couple of decades ago taught me a lesson. We were sitting in the middle of a terrible mess of halibut gear we had to get in repair overnight. He said to me, "If you don't have a sense of humor and an imagination you might as well jump."

The man that is living in a cabin in eastern Washington was with me whet the passenger wheel fell off of my pickup on I-5. As it went whistling by he folded his arms and looked at me. "Well, Stanley, here's another fine mess you've gotten us into," he said.

I did manage to mush it into the breakdown lane and a few hours later we were back on the road again. 

Sometimes I have stories that even make ME wonder but I guess it is what it is.




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I am officially an abused child...says a social worker.

A while ago I posted about how my father taught me to navigate when I was still in school. We spent hours at the kitchen table with books, tables, pencil and reams of paper.

The 'final exam' he gave me lasted 21 long hours and he was tickled pink I had pretty much maxed it.

I was talking about it with a friend the other day at the greasy spoon and some dippy little social worker listened in and told me I was an abused child.

Thank God for small miracles. If I had not been abused like that I would not have grown up as competent as I am. Things like that taught me I was a lot smarter and tougher than I thought I was.

If you don't push a kid once in a while how the hell is he ever going to find out how capable he is?

I was lucky that day because my friend decided to enter the fray and save me the effort.

"He may have been an abused kid fifty years ago," he said. "But YOU are going to become an abused social worker in about two seconds if you don't leave us alone."


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Had a minor brain fart the other day.

I would not write about something as personal as this except it isn't the act but the thought process that is interesting.

I was on the street I grew up on looking around. I have always had a pretty good eye for defilade even as a kid. We used to have apple, chestnut and snowball fights all the time in season. There were also war games and I was pretty good at all of them.

I was also looking at what time had done to the land. A few of the various lumps and piles seemed to have leveled out over the past fifty years.

I was then given a call from nature. I rolled down the street and stopped outside the entrance to an old fire road. It had not overgrown a whole lot. Apparently it had been given cursory maintenance over the years.

I looked down the fire road and spied a thicket that would serve. It was pretty much where it was a half-century ago. At the same time I was looking I took a mental inventory. Trench knife? No, but my shoes had a heel on them and I knew the ground was soft enough to heel a cat hole in seconds. Bathroom tissue? No....Hey! Wait a minute! You're not twelve years old anymore! 

The whole thought process had taken only two or three seconds until I realized it was not 1963 anymore.

Back in the day it was no big thing. As a kid I was a camper and hiker and it was pretty routine to squat in the woods. I suppose the worst thing that could have happened to me was getting seen by Miss Magoun, the old maid bird watcher that sometimes we saw in the woods. If she reported it to the police the cop would have just said he'd do something about it and promptly forgotten it in a second. 

If Miss Magoun had told my dad he would have likely told me to at least look around for the old woman the next time. It would have ended there.

Hikers and campers we were and it was no big issue. It wasn't worth a half-mile walk home to use the toilet if it meant skipping out on a chestnut fight or war game. A quick hygene break and I'd be back in business. 


Of course today as an old man if I got caught there would be hell to pay. I would probably end up on some registry. I wonder what would happen to some kid that got caught doing that today.

I slipped the clutch and started making a quick set of mental notes. The firehouse used to be open 24/7 but in this day and age there was likely some sort of electronic lock on it. Then there was the garage but the last proprietor I knew left about a decade ago when he folded his business. I didn't know the new occupants.

There was a Dunkin' Donuts fairly close so off I went.

While it was no big thing, the part that interested me is that something had happened and I had simply fallen back on my 53 year old set of instincts and training. I actually had to say to myself, "Hey! Wait a minute! You're not twelve anymore!"

It is kind of funny the way things just come back to a guy after years and years of not doing something. The last time I recall squatting in the woods was probably when I was hunting a deer for the homeless shelter, maybe fifteen years ago.

A similar instictive thing happened to me at a Springfield match at Camp Perry several years ago when everything went to hell for me in a prone rapid. My glasses fell apart when the string started and I quickly fixed them. Instead of skooching into position I realized I didn't have time so I just hit the dirt, wiggled for a second and opened fire. I worked the bolt like a madman and almost caught up but my reload clip fell apart. I crammed the loose rounds into the magazine and fired the last five rounds as fast as I could. I fired a total of 10 fast snap shots.

When the smoke cleared I had 5Xs, two tens, two very tight nines and an eight at twelve o'clock. The eight was fired when the targets were being lowered. My final score was a 96-5X.

This was not  a winning score but it was pretty damned good shooting under the circumstances. Later that night a Master Gunnery Sergeant told me that he didn't think any of the marines on his team could do that well under the circumstances.

I had not followed anything but my instinct and previous GI training. I had pretty much ignored everything I learned as a competitive shooter. I was behind the 8-ball and had simply reacted.

It is funny how some things just become instinctive and stay with us for life.



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Today will be a day of rolling

I am driven to get home this evening.

I have a long drive and it may be the last one for a long, long time.

The niece nephew and I have rethought Thanksgiving as such and may simply celebrate a thing we'll call 'Fall Holiday'.

It will be a strictly family thing. Ten and twelve hour drives suck and airfare in the long run is cheaper after all is said and done.

On the other hand, air fare during major holidays is through the roof. 

We'll see what happens, but I do believe we'll do something.



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My niece did it RIGHT.

What a wonderful Thanksgiving I had!

The niece did it right. There was just enough tradition and the perfect amount of fun and convenience. With three young children in attendence she had enough smarts NOT to break out the bone china and use a simple Walmart paper throwaway table cloth AND paper plates.

We also diddled a little with the usual menu. We swapped mashed potatoes for baked because that's what the kids like the best.

When you have three children and work the night shift you have to be resourceful and my niece is. You find out what matters fast and make things work to your advantage.

The Norman Rockwell deliver the turkey to the table and dad carves it was switched over to a more convenient system. The entire turkey pretty much stripped down as soon as it came out of the oven and the meat and mabye a leg and wing was served on a huge platter. Smart move as after dinner the leftovers were put in Tupperware and put away. Making leftover turkey meals was now going to be a snap.

The paper tablecloth was a true stroke of genius. I played tic-tac-toe on it with my niece while we waited for the serving to take place. My Godson, who is a little over a year old scribbled on the table with a crayon. It kept him occupied.

You have to remember I am an old man that never had any kids and it was a lot of fun to see how American Tradition met American practicality for a family with small children.

I said, "Norman Rockwell is spinning in his grave!" We laughed.

I have to get around children more often.






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One of the things getting old has made fun

is that to a lot of people I am no longer looked at as much of a possible threat. I can see it in most people. I am now pretty much a part of the woodwork.

It has certain advantages.

While a lot of people do not let their guard down totally, they do seem a bit more relaxed. 

I was in Scutuate Harbor yesterday and asked a couple of strangers what happened to a few things that are now missing. While Scituate has always been a reasonably friendly town, the people seemed a little more helpful then they were, say a decade or so ago.

On the other hand, there were a few that were probably ruder to me than they would have been years ago but they were a minority and easily brushed off.

It is interesting and all in all I am glad to be with relatives on Thanksgiving. Maybe tomorrow I'll take a couple of the kids out and get into mischief with them.

This morning was a little rough. I woke up CRAVING a smoke. I got into the pickup took a hit of nicotine, grabbed a Dunkin' coffee and things dropped to a semi tolorable level.

Post Thanksgiving dinner is probably going to be  little testy but I should manage. 

Anyway, the uniform of the day is one I seldom get to wear. Sweats and flip flops. It should be the All American Thanksgiving Day uniform.





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I met an old classmate today.

He is just as gullible and dumb as he was forty five years ago. I got into line behind him at a Dunkin' Donuts. I wanted coffee.

"Hey, Piccolo! There's a blast from the past! Home for the holiday, I see!"

My parents have been dead for a few years. A cop fell in behind me.

"What's it like coming home?" he asked.

"Just like what I left. The parents are fighting over money and drugs. Money and drugs, money and drugs, money and drugs. It never changes," I replied.

In the mirror I saw the cop's nterest perk up.

"Ma just won a grand in a wet T-shirt contest the other night and they are bickering over whether to buy meth or coke with it," I said. "You'd think they'da smartened up by now. Every time Ma gets methed up she wrecks he damned Harley and winds up in the hospital."

In the mirror the cop looked confused a second, then I saw him do a little mental math. He supressed a smirk.

"Gee, that's a shame," he said. The look on his face told be he's swallowed it hook, line and sinker. He got his coffee and left.

The cop looked at me and whispered "You asshole," but he was grinning. "How long ago did you live here?"

"Graduated in '69," I said. "That's when the cops wouuld hold you beer while you got your license out. I left in '73, I lived the next town over."

"Huh, Do you know Sam Shultz?" he asked. "He graduated there about tht time."

"Yeah, I do. How's he doing?"

"Sam's fine," said the cop. "He's my uncle." 

"Where is he now?" I asked.

The cop gave me his address. "He should be home now," he said.

I took my coffee and drove off to Sam's house. He was shocked to see me.

He asked me what I was up to after all these years and I strted with, "After I got out of the Foreign Legion...."

He shot back with, "Save that grap for someone gullible!"

I like Sam. He's one of the good guys that has actually learned something over the past 40 or so years.










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Made a long haul today

 I am beat.

Still, I showed up at an old classmate's house dressed up in my zoot suit. We had a good yuk.

It is great seeing people like that. 

Almost fifty years has let a lot of water run under the bridge.


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Well, I did it again.

I was in Homeless Depot the yesterday and met a friend. I mentioned I had just turned 65 and the clerk overheard it which was fine.

As I was checking out the woman asked me if I got anything interesting for my birthday. I told her that my wife had announced she is pregnant and I was going to be a first time father at 65. Of course, she looked surprised.

She asked me how old my wife is. The look on her face told me she was expecting some  kind of off the wall menopause baby story.

"I don't know," I said. "I'm helping her get her driver's license next month so however old that is."

She went into shock and sputtered, "You married a..a teenager?"

"We eloped to West Virginia," I replied. "It's legal there."


Flabberghasted, the clerk turned to ring my items up. 

The woman in line behind me was holding her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. She knew what I was doing. She leanded over to me and whispered to me that I was downright evil.





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I suppose I have posted it before but the nightmare came back.

I saved New York city and in the process my truck got destroyed. The mayor asked if they could do anything for ma and I asked if they could replace my Toyota truck with EXACTLY what I had lost. Or better yet, one simpler that had no air conditioning because air is a pain in the ass because you have to maintain and fix it when it dies.

My truck is a 4 cylinder, manual transmission dead simple rig with roll up windows, a radio and heater. Yes. It really is that simple.

This whole dream is probably because someone I ran into offered to buy me a drink and I was stupid enough to accept. I ordered a simple Jim Beam, neat. The fool tried to upgrade me but I cut him off. I told the bartender not to pour the Woodford Reserve the benefactor tried to upgrade me to.

He tried to argue that Woodford is a better bourbon. I agreed and pointed out that Knob Creek and Maker's Mark are also better bourbons but I don't like any of them because they are simply too polished. I like my bourbon a little on the unpolished side.

Of course, my benefactor couldn't figure it out because he equates cost with taste and I have the taste of a Phillistine when it comes to bourbon. To me it is supposed to have a certain frontier bite to it. I like Jim Beam and Evan Williams, both are basic bar well bourbons.

But let's go back to New York.

I simply wanted a basic Toyota Tacoma and the bastards upgraded me to a humongous Dodge Ram 4x4 with a gigantic V-8 and loaded.

I was supposed to recieve my truck in as a part of the mayor making some sort of speech. Instead of being happy I was kind of pissed off and my speech consisted of offering the truck as an across the board trade for a simple Toyota Tacoma with a manual transmission, a 4 banger, no air and roll up windows.

The embarrassed mayor asked me what was wrong and I told him that what was wrong is that he didn't listen or pay attention. I also pointed out that he wasn't interested in gettimg ME what I wanted to replace my ride.

HE wanted to give me what HE wanted to give me to show what a great guy he was. It had nothing to do with me. It was all about him and his political career.

What am I going to do with a truck that gets about 6 or 8 miles per gallon? How often am I going to have to maintain a 4x4 as opposed to a 2 wheel drive simple truck? I'm now going to have to learn to drive a damned shush-o-matic transmission and I HATE them. After almost 50 years of driving a manual I'll probably instinctively go for the clutch and hit the brake and send someone through the windshield.

In short I bought what I wanted because that is what I wanted. I LIKE a clutch. I LIKE having a simple machine. I LIKE having four spark plugs to replace instead of eight. It works for me.

Of course, in my dream the mayor was pretty pissed off and embarrassed but that was his problem. A dealer from upperstate NY came up with a truck that fit my bill and even offered me ten grand to sweeten the deal.

In my dream I left New York City and drove to Las Vegas. I sold the Key to the City the mayor had given me to the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop. Rick was generous. He gave me $100 for it. The Old Man had offered me $10 and a cup of coffee for it.

Chumlee had offered me a pair of sneakers in trade but Rick nixed it. The sneakers were worth $200.




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You want a civil war? because that's how you get a civil war.

Right now working as a Secret Service agent is a great way of racking up some serious overtime.

There have been a number of threats against the life of the POTUS-elect, Donald Trump. Some from fairly high places.

A couple of CEO types have advocated his assasination and I read where a CEO has ben fired for it. Not too  bright as far as I can see. He lost a good position and isn't likely to be picked up by anyone after that pimplebrained stunt. Hope he likes living under a bridge with the rest of the trolls.

Anyway, I always notice how people like that always seem to want someone else to do the deed. In a perverse way I would respect the man if he picked up a rifle and went after someone.

There is an old National Lampoon song by a Joan Baez imitator that came out in the late 60s or early 70s. it is politically incorrect as hell and because it uses the dreaded 'N word' the black community and a lot of others find it deplorable.

The truth is the very people that find the song deplorable are the very people that should listen to it carefully...Especially the part where she sings 'We're behind you all the way...from right across the bay'.

Notice in this song that the people supporting the black revolutionaries live across the bay and are not too likely to suffer in the least. They'll sit right in their fancy houses and watch the black community across the bay take the hits. They'll sit in luxury while the blacks get killed and injured.

Actually the attitude the Big Boys have is not limited to the Black community. It's actually toward all of the poorer people in the country. It's always the bottom that gets burned.

Evert notice the advocates of assasinations and revolutions are the people that are not going to get their hands dirty to begin with? They are already insulated and want the little guy to do all of the dirty work.

George Soros is a classic example of this type of behavior. He sits in his ivory tower handing out money for his social causes. I'd bet he's never picked up a weapon before in his life. There are others.

I could actually respect someone (of either side, actually) that picked up a weapon and said, 'Follow me!' At least he would be showing that he truly is willing to put his ass on the line and actually had the character to lead from the front.

Back when I was a soldier I underwent a little riot training. At the end of the day I had to pass through the Battery Commander. Because I was an armorer at the time I had to turn in the keys to him daily. Sometimes we'd chat.

"I saw you today during training. You looked annoyed," he said.

"I'm not taking part in any Kent State type murders," I said. "I'll defend myself and the battery and MAYBE the battalion members from harm because I have a right to self-defense. It ends there."

"You'd turn your rifle on the officer that gave you such an order, I'd bet. Don't answer that," He said. "I'll tell you what. If the order is given it won't be by me. I'll point out the officer that give it to you."

"Thank you, Sir," I said. "Thank God I am not  in one of the firing batteries."

He said nothing. There were three firing batteries and he knew I had no respect for two of the three battery commanders of them. I had crossed swords with one of them once. Strangely enough, after that he left me alone.

The truth is that the further up the food chain the easier it is to tell the guy at the bottom what to do.

The CEO that advocated the assasination of Donald Trump is one I would like to meet. I have an interesting way of handling a guy like that. I would simply hand him a rifle and a box of ammunition and say, "Here. have at it. Show me how it's done."

"Uhhh...Well, I...."

"What? You don't know how to shoot? I'll teach you. Meet me at the range. I'll show you how to shoot, get you a 200 yard zero, teach you to estimate range with the mildots and hand you a chart of come-ups for the scope."

I would then stand back and admire the masterpiece of hemming and hawing I have just created as he tries to talk his way out of unsuccessfully trying to back up his bullshit.

As for POTUS -elect Trump?


I am praying for you daily. I want to see you take the oath and assume office alive and in one piece. I do not want you harmed.  I do not want a civil war.



ETA I went smoke free yesterday. It was a very rough day but because it was yesterday it was an easy day. I have stolen a SEAL motto. "The only easy day was yesterday."















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Old man have no business smoking cigarettes.

Seeing I am now really an old man I have stopped. It is a gold plated bitch and I have divided it into two parts.

Of course the purists are raising hell with me over this because I have opted to stay addicted to nicotine for a while. I'm getting my nicotine through losenges.

Nicotine addiction is the easy part to break, really. You just tough it out for a few days and it's gone, over and done with. While it does nag at you for the rest of your life, it gets easier and easier.

The rough part to stop is the actual smoking. 

I have smoked for almost fifty years now and the truth is that the habit goes straight back to childhood and is deepely ingrained. It is actually a part of who I am and to break the habit I actually have to become someone else and reinvent myself.

Of course the doctors, wives, and other people that have never been in those shoes don't have a clue of what it intails to stop. They look at it from the surface and make snide little comments.

"You know, you really ought to..." Fill in the blank. Generally if is ssomething like go all the way and stop using nicotine or start running marathons or start eating tofu.

I get snappish when people do that. I generally tell them "You know, you really ought to STFU."

Of course they get offended but that's just too damned bad. They don't have a clue.

Smoking cigarettes is a habit that is deeply rooted and goes all the wayback to childhood and is actually a part of my self-image when you think about it. Looking back on it, virtually all of my mentors smoked cigarettes.

There were the WW2 guys I looked up to and admired as a kid. They were the flyboys, infantrymen, aerial gunners, Marines and sailors.

One had spent almost two years in a PW cage, another spent 72 hellish hours on the helm at Okinawa dodging Kamikazes. My scoutmaster was a company comander in Europe and retreaded for Korea. He sure taught us how to make do in the woods.

These were the guys I looked up to.

And virtually ALL of them smoked cigarettes.

You don't break a fifty year habit overnight. It takes time and you don't break the whole thing at once. You break it down to managable sized portions.

You also have to learn to avoid triggers. For me that means I have to avoid coffee, beer and liquor for a while. I have altered my morning coffee ritual by simply adding Swiss Miss to it. It seems to reduce the craving simply because it is a different recipe.

I'll post more on this maybe later today but I have to get things underway. I just got a call.

Continued. I have secured from General Quarters.

I had to do something and while doing it I ran into the biggest triger of all. Second hand cigarette smoke. One whiff of that and the alarms started ringing. Instant Nicorette losenge time. 

The losenge only helped. When I cleared the area and the air grew fresh I took the deep breaths associated with smoking and enjoyed fresh air. That was a rough ten minutes.

Another paradox is that therre is a pack of Camel straights in the freezer that has been there for a couple of years. It will stay there.

It is funy because on the ride home from work I threw out a couple of loose cigarettes I found in the pickup. Yet the Camels stay in the freezer.

There is also a pack of straights in my seabag. It will stay there, too.

Why? Because I have stopped smoking because I want to and NOT because I simply ran out. If someone tries to be overly helpful and throws them out thinking they are helping me they will get their ass chewed and I'll replace them.

There's a lot of head games involved here. It is not an easy row to hoe.

I have a physical coming up on Monday and my doctor is a woman in her 30s. Likely this is one thing that they didn't teach her in madical school. My guess is she is going to try and be helpful but will likely trigger things and I will leave shaking.

Sometimes people mean well and try to be helpful but make things worse. I have to say that Mrs. Piccolo has been most helpful simply by shutting the hell up and staying out of the way. The less she tries to help the better off I will be. People always seem to say the wrong things.

I would imagine the good doctor will offer me Centrix or whatever it is but I will refuse. I have a fear of it because of the suicide warnings. I am NOT suicidal but have reserved the right as Alzheimer's runs in the family. I am NOT going to go that way.

I will avoid Centrix because I just do not want to be reminded of Alzheimer's.

The other thing I am apprehensive about is that the doctor is about 30 years younger than I am and hence is not a boomer. She is also a woman and therefore grew up both as a female and from a different time frame. She will likely not understand the psychological part of where the habit began. 

She grew up in a period where smoking was not too acceptable to begin with. It is a different generation. As such she will be hard pressed to understand it all.

I just had a good breakfast, skipping the spuds and breadstuffs. Straight protien and no carbs. In addition to stopping smoking I have returned from sea and have a couple of 'sea pounds' to lose.

While not a problem in itself it is an 'add-to'. Actually it is going to be easy to lose my sea pounds as an add-to because I am already in a disciplined frame of mind. 

I did not buy bourbon on the way home because it is a trigger. Yet the paradox is that there is an unopened bottle of it in the kitchen. Much like the cigarettes in the freezer the bottle will stay there unopened. I won't open it because I know it is a trigger. Yet if it was not there I would have to go out and buy a bottle because I am not drinking it by choice and not because I ran out.

Anyway, here it is. he adventures of a 65 year old man changing his behavior. I will keep updating things as they happen. 











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I am home now

and looking to see what has to be done.

There is an insurance issue to deal with today and it is going to kind of suck. I also have to weigh in and probably lose a couple of pounds. That sucks.

I stopped smoking four or five days ago and I am climbing walls over that. I have the shakes from that and it maans a Catch-22. I can lose the shakes in an instant if I pound down a biscuits and gravy breakfast but I'll not lose weight.

So I guess I'll just shake today. 

Now I see where the cat poked my nose and drew blood and there is a blood spot there. Add the fact that I have not shaved this month and there is seventeen days worth of fungus on my face.

Then to top things off the cat jumped on my lap while I was sitting on the toilet.

In short I look like and kind of feel like hell but that's OK.






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I just read an article about Melania Trump and Michelle Obama

meeting in the White House. I didn't bother reading much of it but the author carried on and on about the dresses the women wore and the fashon statements of each dress along with secret hidden meanings.

The article made a big deal out of what they wore.

Truth is Melania Trump was a model and has had a career in the fashion industry. She very well may have worn something of her own design.

I have no clue who designs clothes for Michelle Obama. I don't really care. 

Still, I have been around woman long enough to know that both women probably got dressed beforehand and asked their husbands, "Honey, does this dress make my ass look big?"



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I am getting sick and tired of the people out there making fun or insulting people

 that do not have a college degree. It is getting old.

A number of the detractors are teachers which to me is a joke. The best teacher I ever had never  finished high school. He took me as a kid off the street and turned me into a pretty good soldier in about 13 weeks.

Ovet the years some of the best medical people I have ever had work on me have had only a high school background. Some not even that. The services produce pretty good practical medics. One of them performed surgery on me and you would not know it. I mentioned it to a doctor during a physical a while ago and he admitted he couldn't find much of the scar.

The guys that turned me into an adequate entry level surveyor only had high school educations. Survey school was mainly spherical triangulation and astronomy. Both of these are subjects that liberal arts majors have no clue of.

I personally got my seafaring education at Hawsepipe University and am still attending. My degree hangs on the wall in the form of a license that says: To United States Merchant Marine Officer.

The only schools that have that issued are the maritime academies. You don't get that one at U.Mass or Harvard or anywhere else.

A friend of mine has a different but similar form of a degree. It is a state license as a master plumber. It took him several years of apprenticeship and work in the trade to be able to test for this.

Both of us do a lot better than an awful lot of degree holders. Both of us are also a lot better informed than a lot of degree holders. Both of us did this with nothing more than high school and motivation.

I have always wanted to take one of these snobs on board and hand the rig I run over to them and simply tell them to discharge the cargo. It would be rather amusing to see the look on their faces when they were confronted my the task. It also might open their eyes a bit to the fact that a guy with high school can run such a piece of equipment with so much ease.

I have served with people that have degrees from King's Point and guys that never finished grammar school. The water is a great equalizer and there is simply no telling who is going to succeed or not. It is not about degrees or formal education out here. It's strictly about performance.

I have seen people on both ends fail. I have see people on both ends succeed. I have seen people stunned and say..."But...but...He's a King's Pointer! How come he screwed up?"

It's simple. He just could not do the job.

I do have to admit that the academy guys do have a better foundation to work with, but the fact still remains you have to do the job.

Life can be an education. It should be. Formal education is a good thing to have and I support it stronly. On the other hand I feel one should have a plan. What does one expect to get out of this institution of further learning?

What irks the holy hell out of me is people calling those of us that do not have a degree uneducated people.

There are farmers out there that grow the very source of our lives. They make food. They plant crops, raise animals, work the soil and make the very essence of our Thanksgiving turkey dinner. Yet those in power seem to forget that and insult them and call them uneducated. Not a whole lot of them can raise animals or grow things to eat.

Having learned to do this is an education in itself. 

There are a lot of highly educated people out there that don't have degrees.

So where do these uppity big shots and politicians get off telling everyone that the people of, for example Ohio are uneducated?

Maybe the working guys are educated in practical matters and decided that they were tired of being insulted. I'll bet that has a lot to do with the change in America that just happened.



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When Robert E. Lee surrendered

 Confederate forces at Appomattox court house he ordered his troops to go home.

He did not want a protracted guerrilla war. He wanted it to end then and there and the bloodletting to stop. He was appalled at the suggestion the army break up and fight on as guerrillas.

Not so much with Hillary Clinton. She has tacitly ordered the fight to continue. She would rather have a shattered country than admit she lost.

I both read and listened to her concession speech and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that she tacitly approves of the rioting and tumult that is going on in our cities. So does president Obama.

I have heard neither of them speak out against the violence. My guess is that they are both sitting in their ivory towers snickering at how they have the people at the bottom divided and fighting.

Both Hilary and Obama have been divisive people to begin with. It's easier to schlep something past when people are busy fighting with one another. Add to the fact that neither of them are good losers. Both are cruel, spiteful human beings. Neither one of them give a damn about the country because they have their own agendas.

Add Soros into this as the likely financier and there it is.

All of this reminds me of the SDS and Weathermen of the late 60s and 70s. A lot of violence happened and there was a period of bombings from the left. It was a rough time.

Bernadine Dohrn and Bill Ayers were involved in a number of bombings. Somehow they got off the hook and went into education. They both still belong in jail.

We older people have been through this before and this time there ought to be no letting people like that out of jail. They should sit there and rot before they get out and cause additional harm.

Like I said, I heard the concession speech Hillary made and it was nothing more or less than a call to riot. She belings in jail for that, too.

If Obama loved this country he would speak out against the violence. He'd be better off doing this because if it is still going on after Trump takes office then there is going to be a counterattack that will mean more casualties.

As for Soros?

If any connection can be made then he ought to go right to jail.





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The next step is getting Trump through the electoral college.

This game ain't over. I see a stench coming through the air led by George Soros. My guess is he's going to try and buy the EC off. Hopefully he fails.

I do believe he is behind the present rioting going on in our cities. He has quite the reputation for controlling things from afar. He's another one that is a hidden tyrant.

Frankly I wish someone would tip off the Russians the next time his private jet is in the air so they could force it or shoot it down. Either/or. Their choice. I don't care.

He's part of the reason I support Trump. Trump knows we are being run by outside influences and hopefully dealing with people like him is a part of draining the swamp. If he wants the CIA to do something to him and people like him that would be fine by me.

Still, I would rather see him hauled into court and spend the rest of his days in super max, in the general prison population where he belongs.




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Today I am 65 years old

Five years ago I posted that if anyone asks what I did of they are to tell them I died of old age.

http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-60th-birthday-post.html

Five years ago





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Well, things are starting to settle down and we can take a look at things.

This was the dirtiest campaign I have ever seen. It had everything in it and Trump was the underdog.

He had everything going against him.

The GOP elites hated him, meaning his own party was out to get him. Many of his own party members were  Big money is afraid of him, the media was afraid of him. Congress was (and probably still is) terrified of him. Needless to say, the Democrats dispised him.

He was underfinanced, going up against an opponent with two or three times the money he had to work with. His oponent had an incredible political machine and a lifetime of political saavy. He had none but what he had acquired being a successful businessman.

When the media started shunning him his followers started an incredible grassroots campaign on the internet, spreading the word as the media ignored Wikileaks and Veritas videos came out. They spread the word as best they could. The took to the social madia and lit up Facebook pages.

When the oposition decided to play dirty and set him up with false allegations he instantly refuted them and retaliated in kind. As one guy put it, when she threw a shovelful of shit at him he just got a bigger shovel and threw it back.

I watched him evolve from a clumsy, casual speaker at his early rallies to evolving into an excellent presidential acting speechmaker.

All the time he never stopped being Donald. As people became aware, the rallies grew to epic proportions. There was seldom enough room at his rallies to let everyone in. He campaigned at a grass roots level, flying all over the country making as many as five rallies a day. 

The man is over 70 years old and showed boundless energy. He was amazing.

Between his rallies, his speeches, and the frantic grassroots level internet help from countless little guys at their keyboardshe galvanized an awful lot of people to get off their asses and vote. I personally heard several people about my age saying they were going to register and vote for the first time.

It came to a head on election day and he fooled everyone. He won. The meltdown at Democratic headquarters was a sight to behold as many of them burst into tears at the news that he had beaten the overconfident Hillary.

It is still an amazing feat and it turned the world upside down.



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Best election EVER!

One thing about this election that has been sadly overlooked is Melania Trump, Donald's wife.
I do believe she deserves an award for grace under fire. She is without a doubt one of the classiset women I have ever seen. 

She accompanied her husband through the entire election and did a remarkable job of being everything a First Lady should be.

She was dragged through all of the disgraceful, disgusting filth and raw sewage the Washington, the media and the Clinton machine could produce and never for a nanosecond stopped smelling like a rose.

She's an immigrant and speaks several languages and is a wonderful example of an American success story. We should be grateful as hell to have her as a First Lady and I know she will never let us down.

On behalf of Piccolo's Hash and any interested readers, I award her the Woman of the Year award or grace under fire.


&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

In other news, we owe the Amish.

The Amish almost never vote. The only time they vote is when there is something on the ballot that directly effects them.

This year the Amish decided that there were a few issues they felt needed addressing. They hopped into their buggies and went to the polls in droves.

I do believe they were the final force that tipped PA. While they may or may not quite have tipped it, they sure helped nail it down and create a solid, unquestionable majority.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Speak of hopping into buggies and that sort of thing, this election fired up a lot of people that have been sitting on the sidelines for decades.

I have run into a couple of people about my age that registered and voted for the first time in their lives. They came out to support Trump.

This election brought a lot of people out of the woodwork I have never seen at the polls before. It was like one of those old movies where the entire town grab torches and pirchforks and charge after the monster.

I think it was good for the older guys to finally get involved. Nothing like the opportunity to drain the swamp to clan the liver out.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Some wag just said that the election was planned on 'The Simpsons' about 10 or 15 years ago.

Apparently there was an episode where Donald Trump ran for president. 





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The world turned upside down.

I don't believe it.

I been to three county fairs, a goat roping and seen the big city of Seattle twice but I NEVER seen nothing like I saw tonight.

I'll leave it at that.



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I saw a Facebook thread where a young woman is in the ICU room

 after being punched. She is in my prayers. No parents should have to bury their children.

That being said, I did ask for the entire story because it is fairly likely that this wasn't a case of some guy just walking up to her ahd tagging her. There is generally a reason of some sort. I'd like to know what it was.

A lot of people have this 'you don't hit a woman' attitude. That's not the way it goes. You don't hit a LADY. 

I have a friend that tagged a woman once and it cost him a lot of grief as the system is set up that womanhood is sacred. It isn't.

The woman pulled a knife on him. She decided to disgard her lady status and became an animal. When she came at him he managed to get the knife pushed aside and walloped her hard enough to make her drop it. He recovered the knife (disarming her) and as she recovered listened to her scream in outrage that she'd been hit.

The situation was now reasonably stable. She was disarmed and was no longer in attack mode. 

Of course, she retreated and called the police and played the aggrieved victim game and my friend spent the night in jail.(Charges were later dismissed)

I was dubious when I first heard the story for a second or two until I found out who the woman was. She had a history of getting drunk and doing things like that so the story was very credible. I'd seen this moonbat in action before.

The truth is that the guy should have had enough sense to realize this but I suppose he was thinking with the wrong head.

Still, the case is clear that the whole 'never hit a woman' thing that society has created is horse puckey. They have it wrong.

You never hit a lady.

When you start behaving like an animal and endangering people then you have lost your protection. 

The feminists that support equal rights always seem to forget that equal rights means equal responsibilities.

I am not going to enter the Facebook fray until I find out the entire story. 

If the little girl that got socked was behaving herself, then it is a case of her playing a stupid game and winning a stupid prize. If she was, in fact behaving herself then the guy is an animal and deserves to go to jail.

Update. The girl threw the first punch. My care-o-meter doesn't even blip.

Play stupid game, win stupid prizes.



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SOmeone else wrote this post and permitted me to use it.

It sure tells it like it is.

A warm 'thank you' to the author.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&




Where this whole thing is now is pretty much a victory in my mind. 

We will be stuck with an even more vanilla centrist then McCain and Romney. 
Trump won't run. 
Trump won't do shit in the rep debates 
It is Jebs turn 
Trump will drop out any day now. 
Trump doesn't stand a chance against Hillary. 
You can't say politically incorrect things, you have to go along to get along. 
You have to have a billion dollars in campaign funds to compete. 
. 
She has a billion dollar war chest, the support of every internet company, Wall street, Hollywood, the press, the music industry and the tacit support of most RINOs and #nevertrumpers. 

We have some hackers, dank meme makers, a lightning witted gay brit, some moody loner assault rifle enthusiasts and a metric shit ton of fed up, beat up and generally pissed the fuck off Americans. 

And yet here we are, neck and neck with the epitome of career politician. 

Win or lose, I can't say this wasn't the futhermucker of all battles.





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I am now watching an old episode of 'The Honeymooners'.

Art Carney is hilarious bouncing off of Jackie Gleason.

I can use the break because I have been watching too much election stuff. I still can't call it because this is the weirdest election I have ever seen. The polls this year seem skewed and I have lost ALL faith in the MSM.

Real Clear Politics (RCP) is nothing more than a place that consolidates the results of several independent polls. Because I don't trust the MSM I don't trust many of the polls.

They have found voter fraud in Broward Co, FL and I KNOW the fix is in in Philly and probably Pitt. It's also pretty likely fixed in Cuyahoga Co, OH. That's for starters.

A couple of people have said that they think that if the election was honest than Trump will win but they think Hillary will cheat her way in. I agree it's a likely scenario. It takes a very solid majority to overcome mass fraud.

I don't know, we'll see.

Frankly I would give a month's pay to see both Hillary and Obama melt down with a Trump victory.

I have come to the conclusion that we are on our way to a civil war.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Thanksgiving is coming and I am going to visit relatives for dinner. 

I think that no matter what happens this election I am going to have a quiet word with one of my hosts to get their mother not to bring up the subject. She's a liberal from way back and sometimes runs her mouth.

I don't want to discuss politics on Thanksgiving and I won't unless I am goaded into it. If I am forced to defend myself I will likely leave someone in tears.

 I just want to have Thanksgiving in peace and enjoy the kids.

Thanksgiving is celebrated in my nastiest sweats and T-shirt and a pair of topsiders the toe sticks out of. It's that kind of relaxing day.

I will probably have a few after dinner snorts and sleepin as I am not going to go out on Black Friday.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%











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It's a late night

and I think I'll post.

On an internet board there was a thread about dreams. I swear I must be a reincarnated WW2 flyboy. While I have not had recurring dreams in a long time, I do remember bailing out and free falling. Then my chute wouldn't open. I'd fight with it all the way down. I'd wake up about 700 feet off the ground.

One night I had the same dream but I kept falling past the 700 foot mark. The 'chute opened and I knew I was going to be OK.

I never had the dream again.

I also had a continuation of the dream where I had landed and was trying to evade and escape. The dream didn't last very long. The first time it ended I was hiding in a pile of nasty rubbish and the Germans were looking for me.

A couple of nights later I reran the entire dream but I wasn't discovered. I managed to steal a small sailboat and slipped out of the port at night and sailed over to England.

Never had that one again, either.

It's funny how things change when something gets worked out. Win lose or draw.

This election has really gotten on my nerves because I see my liberties being infringed upon and I don't like it one bit.

I'll be glad when it's over.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Truth is, no matter who becomes president I am not going to change. I'll probably get worse out of sheer spite.






To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY