Update from a previous post: The kitchen is now 100% operational.

I had to borrow a knife and a spatula from my neighbor to start cooking breakfast with. I used it this morning and cleaned it well. I'll return it tonight when she gets home from work.

Once fed it was up and off to the storage unit for about an hour's worth of digging. Fortunately the cardboard boxes they used to haul everything out in were reasonably well marked. While I dumped the general contractor early on I will give him credit for carefully organizing my stuff and packaging it well when they emptied the place.

It wasn't too bad although I found a couple of odds and ends that were out of pllace in the boxes but that's to be expected. If I can't use it here it now or in the extremely near future it gets returned to the storage unit.

I made a pretty good lunch shortly before I declared it operational.

Of course there's more to do but I can breathe a little. The microwave works and that's a BIG plus. It took the entire morning and part of the afternoon but it's sure worth it. 

Tomorrow: Upstairs toilet gets installed. That means when I have to go I have to go upstairs but it's actually somewhat of an improvement of the way things are now.

Another thing I ought to do tomorrow is take down that damned cat cage. It's big enough for a small pony and comes apart easily enough.

More later. Got to get ready to go to an Irish wake.

I'm going to look like hell, I suppose but that's OK. I think the neighbors know I'm living out of a single footlocker. I suppose that as closet space returns I can bring clothes back home...or at least a big part of my wardrobe. Some of it I am outright going to pitch as I rethink a few things.

One thing I am going to do is hang my old army uniform up in the kitchen entryway as a reminder not to eat so damned much. I'm still pretty close to getting the pants on comfortably and not need a come-along to pull both ends of the waist together.

Protip for guys getting out of the military. Buy a uniform a couple of sizes larger to put in the closet because that chap government issue cloth shrinks over time.

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I have a wonderful life!

I just boiled water for hot buttered rum on a gas stove in a USGI canteen cup. A bit primitive, yet I have a nice hot buttered rum next to me as I type.

I just got out of a nice, warm shower that was jury rigged to the laundry tub in the basement and I'm sparkling clean.

I spent the day in the kitchen reassembling things and cleaning up. Things are moving along slowly.

Tonight I will sleep in a comfortable, warm bed set up in the living room but that's OK. I'll even have my CPAP up and running.

Someone asked me why I'm not upset and that at 71 life should not be like this for me. I smiled.

How should it be? I'm rebuilding after a fire. Life threw me a curve but it's not all that bad.

Everry now and then I look at a picture taken by a guy named Kevin Carter and I look at it every so often when I start to feel sorry for myself.

I was going to post it here but decided not to. Google 'The vulture and the little girl'. SHE has something to feel bad about.

FWIW shortly after the picture was taken the photographer taped a hose to his car exhaust and put the other end in the cab of his pickup.

Can't say as I blame him.

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New plan for the house.

While I am living small, I think it's time to get the kitchen back up and running as I can eat more for less money and get back with my weight loss program.

I figure that anything that can go in a kitchen cabinet is good to go to be brought back.

I spent a lot of the day cleaning it up until I got sidetracked on a couple of sets of Venetian blinds which I suppose should have just been tossed out but I made three sets of them look brand new.

It was a rainy day today and the warm moist air brought back a tinge of the smoke smell in the garage which is where the fire was. I think a week with a hydroxyl generator running should kill that forever. We'll see. 

It's kind of a nuisance the way things are because the main bathroom has been completely gutted. I can use the toilet in the upstairs half bath and shower in the basement in the original 'after work shower' that was installed back around 1948 and not used probably since maybe the early 60s. A lot of the older houses have these and as primitive as it is, it works. 

I wasn't going to bring in anything (except a bunk and footlocker. a table and a chair) until the entire job gets completed but if it can fit in a remediated cabinet or closet it's good to go. I'll leave the heavy furniture and such in storage.

I guess Neighbor Bob's funeral gave me a head's up because anything decent I have to wear is in storage and while I don't want to bring the whole shooting match over I should have something decent to wear handy. I doubt, for example, that I will need my zoot suit anytime in the very near future.

In fact when I do start bringing things back I am going to go through everything and pitch some of it. 

After holing up on a hotel for so long in between tours at sea really is good to be back home even if it is semi-camping in. Kitty seems a lot happier here, too and as you know, if Kitty is happy then so am I.

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One funeral coming up.

My buddy passed last night and he's at peace. 

I have to go through the Irish Catholic wake/funeral ritual which I am very familiar with. I'll smuggle in a pint of Jameson's. It's my duty.

As he was laying there off of life support and breathing I whispered to him, "If you come around I'll sneak you in a cold beer."

Of course you expect me to write that he smiled or did some damned thing but he didn't. He didn't hear a damned thing. Later that night he passed.

Frankly under the circumstances if I thought I could have gotten away with it I would have shot him and given him a fast exit. The way we treat people is a lot crueler than we treat animals.

I have had two cats die on my lap in peace at the vet's office and my wife made sure Tokie didn't suffer but letting a human lay there in a vegitative state is outright cruelty. 

I have a sister that is a realist and she is the one that will call the shots if something like that happens to me.

In accordence with Irish Catholic custom he will be buried in the ground which is fine as he was another worthlesss Irish bum (like me)to begin with and that's what we do.

I am a sailor and will be buried at sea in a USGI mattress cover which reminds me that it is in storage and I had better fish it out and have it handy because I am closer to my turn then I think.

In other news there is a small binder with my final instructions and on the cover of it is an Elvira look-alike and it says that for $500 she will come to my funeral and stand away from the crowd in a sexy black dress, sunglasses, and weep bitterly and you are lowered into the ground to make your friends and relatives wonder what dark secrets you took with you.

For some reason my wife does not think it's funny but then again, she's not Irish. Virtually ALL of my family and dark humored friends laugh like hell when they see it.

They understand my book which I had bound and gold leafed, "Piccolo adventures in the Foreign Legion". It's a book of blank pages. I never served in the Legion.

Then again my wife was horrified to find out that I got even with my grandmother for pinching my cheek at weddings and saying, "You're next!" because I retaliated by doing it to her at a funeral. She doesn't understand that Irish Catholics take no prisoners.*

Adios, Neighbor Bob. I'm sure as hell going to miss you.

As of last night the neighborhood got a lot smaller.

*it's in your genes or it isn't. My niece carried on screaming about how she'll never be that way. Never! Never! Never! and someone said something (lost in history) and she snapped back with some SERIOUS dark humor.

BAM! Headshot! I wet my pants laughing. It's in our genes. It was in Bob's, too.

Neighbor Bob wasn't a Marine so Semper FI doesn't fit. Nor was he a shipmate. That doesn't fit, either.

I think that 'Later, Buddy' does.

Anyway what ever I say during the wake/funeral is going to piss someone off but I suppose it's expected of me.

I am SERIOUSLY thinking of popping a beer at his wake. He most certainly deserves it. Then again, I might do this at the funeral.

Good night.

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One or two of my better comebacks at work and other places

One of the very few port captains that was a real dud (most were pretty good) threatened to fire me in front of several people. He was just trying to flex his muscles.

I lit a smoke and calmly looked up at him and said, "You can't fire me. After all, slaves are sold."

In a 30+ year career I had one other jerk that threatened to can me. 

He didn't get very far. I went for broke. "You don't have the authority to fire me. They took that away from you because they figured out that you would throw competent mariners under the bus to cover your own incompetence."

I guess it was true because he just stood there agape and stormed off.

Someone recently asked me why I was wearing a pink T-shirt. "Are you gay? Is it for breast cancer?"

"No," I replied. "It's the same color as Pepto-Bismol and it serves to remind me to be careful of what I eat or I'll have to drink another two quarts of the stuff."

He didn't know what to say. I can be downright dry.

Of course it was a bold faced lie because they don't call me "Old garbage gut" for nothing. I can still eat almost anything. Even stuff that would make a goat puke. Then again, my gut isn't what it used to be. It's gotten stronger which is weird. It's probably supposed to get weaker as one ages. Whatever. I'm going to ask the maunfacturer when I meet up with him.

Still, I think it was a pretty good answer on such short notice. 

Come to think about it, the other day I scraped the green stuff off of....Never mind the details, it went through me without a hitch.

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Had a good Thanksgiving

Which was great.

Now back to camping in. 

I have a reefer and a stove up and running which are the basics. Today it's off to the storage locker for a few basics so I can prepare my meals here. I am NOT dragging a whole lot home with me, just a few basics.

This is still a case where less is more although as soon as everything in the kitchen is cleaned up I might drag some more stuff in but I am not going to go 100% back to the way it was.

----------------------------------------------

In other news the guy I used to occasionally post as Neighbor Bob stroked out about a week ago. I have no current word on him and it doesn't look very good according to another neighbor. If it is anywhere near as bad as I have heard I hope he has an easy passing. He's been a damned good friend and neighbor for the past 30 years and will be very much missed. As usual, because i am out of town all the time I was one of the last to find out.

I'm going to have to be intuitive when I catch up with his wife because she's overly sensitive and it's easy for me to be a clumsy oaf.

The truth is I am astonished he made it this far after  his major heart operation many years ago. It was nothing shy of a miracle that he lasted this long.

Of course I can't say that to his widow. Sometimes people call me cold and calloused and I'm not. It's just that I see a lot of things a lot clearer than most. 

While some people may think he was cheated because he lasted only to 62, I think it's nothing short of amazing that he made it this long when you consider what he was up against. He did get the gift of being able to see his daughter grow up and that's a lot.

When he goees I'll not mourn his passing but instead I'll remember our time together. 

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Camping in.

A couple of days before I went back to work I moved out of the hotel and back into the unheated house, complete with only a temporary electricity box consisting of 4 recepticles. 

While I was at work Mrs. Piccolo's electrician came and got the place energized again. Electricity meant heat so when I got off the plane I came home to a warm home and hearth and, mainly Kitty which is always a good deal. If Kitty's OK then I'm OK.

Anyway, my work is cut out for me and there's just too much to do for one old man so it's find a couple of subs to do things. With the way things are these days this ain't gonna be easy. Good subs are busy as a general rule. I know about that all too well.

Had the general contractor (that I basically fired) had halfway decent subs I would not be in this predicament but when you see the subs can't even wire a temporary electrical installation properly, the plumber disabled the house that already had decent running water and the demolition people can't even unscrew a medicine chest for removal then you wonder why you have them to begin with.

I am currently of the opinion that when I mentioned I was a sailor he thought I knew nothing but beer, boats and backsplicing. A lot of people do. They forget that there are no plumbers, electricians or carpenters at sea and that we have to be pretty self-sufficient.

I got home a little late Tuesday and loafed Wednesday and today is Thanksgiving so I'm not in work mode yet. Wait a minute....

Dinner isn't until 1630 and it's 10:30 now. I think I can get the refrigerator back into place and rehook up the stove. We'll see what happens.

It's later. The fridge is reinstalled and now it's the stove which is gas and a long tale of woe as I have to figure out a way of raising it 3/4 of an inch to make it level with the cabinets that were installed 3/4 of an inch too high because the floor wasn't even and yada yada yada. Remodels are a bitch and require some thought and a touch of Mickey Mousing which I'm got good at.

One of the things many people do not realize is that a lot of what a remodeler does is create an illusion of perfect when it really isn't. 

The cabinets in my kitchen are not perfect. That's because I started with an out of level floot and out of plumb walls. Of course, the cabinets are perfectly square and if you look at them they sure llook perfect. What you don't see are the various shims and slight trimming of the face boards. 

Say what you will, but a good remodeler is probably one of the best carpenters you will ever meet.

It's later now and the stove is up and running and that means I have to go to the storage unit and get a few things. There's still a lot to do to make the kichen squared away but at least the basic tools are up and running.

The cool guys test gas connections with a Bic lighter. I am not one of the cool guys. I used soapy water. I USED to be one of the cool guys but after I saw one of them singe his eyebrows I decided that being cool wasn't worth it.

Anyway,'camp' is getting a little nicer as things pass.

Off for turkey dinner!

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The show must go on!

It is the day before Thanksgiving and I am home to a shell of sorts with Kitty which really isn't a bad deal when you think about it. After all, Kitty's company is better than that of most people.

One of the things is that it doesn't smell like a fire anymore for some reason.  I'll give that credit to my wife who kept the doors and windows open every chance she had while I was away. Nature creates its own hydroxyl generators.

Today I am just not motivated to do a damned thing and as such I am getting over what amounts to being a shock on my system as retirement takes a person out of syncronization. 

I have worked three weeks on/off for decades and the thought that you have ended the cycle is a good and bad thing to one's system.

About the only thing that holds steady is the cat because I can rely on him to be a constant pest that makes me smile.

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Captain Piccolo, Licensed US Merchant Marine Officer.

Retired.

Update.

At 2329Z  the wheels hit the tarmac and it was all over.

The flight was great as I mentioned retirement and the aircrew that said they were serving the First Class passengers beer or wine quietly 'just happened' to find a little leftover Bourbon and slipped me a couple.  

Incidentally it was my first flight traveling in First class and it only cost me about $10 extra.

Do the math. First Class was $60 more then economy and I got free luggage (-$30) plus priority boarding (another -$20)

Add the free drinks at about $10 apiece (x2) and I suppose I came out $5-10 ahead when you think about it.

Not bad.

________________________________

And, oh, yeah.

I was there early and was wandering around as they were boarding at another gate. I heard the gatekeeper announce that the First Class passengers could board.

So in a loud voice I added, "And the rest of you dwarfs, cripples, hunchbacks, lepers and beggars can wait until the landed gentry is seated."

Most of the economy passengers were clearly amused.

The gatekeeper was not, at least outwardly.

Needless to say, I didn't stick around.

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I called the doctor's office and she told me I had to wear a mask.

"Can I use the one I had on ten minutes ago when I stuck up the convenience store ten minutess ago?" I asked.

"Wha..what...Oh. It's you. Yeah, that'll be fine," she said.

It is good to be known.

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There's always some idiot that comes charging in with an insignificant detail that means nothing.

I mentioned the term 'Drank the Kool-aid' like the suckers at Jonestown.

Some mousy little bean counter type came out and said, "It was really Flavor-Aid, you know."

Yeah. OK.

Flavor-Aid, Kool-Aid, what's the difference? 

One of the biggest bean counter stories I have is the time I almost got fired for giving a dockman something we were getting ready to throw away. It was a partial can of paint.

Good paint is and was fairly expensive and marine grade paint is even more expensive but no matter how expensive the initial cost of something is, the leftovers are just that. They are leftovers.

Anyway, I gave a leftover can of paint to a dockman and caught holy hell for it and was lucky to keep my job.

Needless to say, I was madder than hell over it and decided to keep score of what I got in return for the paint.

The dockman painted his garage doow with the paint and for the next decade always had something good to say when I docked. We got all sorts of little favors from him and a couple of stupid things 'went away'.

Over time we got thousands of dollars worth of little favors and later on at a seminar I told the CEO about it and his eyes opened wide.

"One lousy leftover can of paint that almost got me fired," I said. "The goodwill created by that saved us thousands."

Later that afternoon he gave us a talk about creating good will with our customers but had the decency not to attribute it to me.

If the bean counter had his way I would have been canned for turning a throwaway can of paint into what wound up saving the company WELL over $100K over the years.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Today is my last full day of work.

Tomorrow I get on the bird home for the last time.

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As to be expected, the states screw the detail up.

The states that have legalized cannibis seem to have already screwed things up to a fare-thee-well. How?

By taxing the dickens out of it.

One of the selling points for legalization of cannibis they advertised was that legalization would eliminate illegal trafficking of marijuana.

Needless to say, a number of the states taxed cannibis so heavily that the underworld can undercut the legal product and still turn a hefty profit.

Par golf. As usual, the people in government just don't think.

Why am I not surprised? 

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Shamelessly stolen from another website

The subject was marijuana being a gateway drug.

Apparently in states where the herb has been legalized beer sales have skyrocketed. The Original Poster says pot is a gateway drug to alcohol. Someone else posted that arrests at tailgating parties at Bronco games has dropped 70% since they allowed it at the stadium.

Anyway, some wag posted this. It's spot on and it's priceless: 

People are never satisfied with stuff the way it is. You gotta make it bigger and better and stronger and faster. Same way with pot. For years pot was just joints, and then bongs came out and bongs were OK too, but then bongs weren't good enough for some people.

Remember that friend in high school wanted to make bongs out of everything. Making bongs out of apples and oranges and shit? Come in one day and find your friend going, "Hey! Look man, I made a bong outta my head! Put the pot in this ear and take it outta this one! Good! Take a hit!"

Then they got one of those big giant bongs that you gotta start up like a motorcycle. "Put the pot in!" Kids are driving their bongs down FDR Drive. "Pull the bong over man, I wanna do a hit. Pull it over!"

What was the problem with just smoking a joint, eating a couple of Twinkies, and going to sleep? Was that a problem? They say marijuana leads to other drugs. No it doesn't, it leads to fucking carpentry.

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Calling all cars! Calling all cars!

Some people have never read the Official Teenager Manual before and they should.

For example, Chapter 6, page 6-12 covers Article 2, Amendment B, Section 6-b, Clause  M covering the unlawful procurement of alcoholic beverages by underage teens. It is specific on this.

It clearly specifies that if they do not have an older sibling, close relative, family friend of legal age that is willing to procure alcohol for them it is permissible for them to hang outside of a store that sells said beverages and ask adults to make an illegal straw purchase of an alcoholic beverage for them. 

I, of course, being a responsible adult, smirked at them when I entered the store because I have a policy of purchasing alcohol only for underage young people that have a bona fide active duty military ID card on their person. Even then they must pass scrutiny of a sharp-eyed old man that remembers his misspent youth very well and can spot a troublemaker a mile away.

They had no such ID so I shook my head and politely refused, after politely explaining my policy.

I was actually headed in there to purchase a six-pack for personal use as I wanted a nice cold one after an extremely hard day of doing very little. As a senior citizen there is damned little I have to explain to anyone if I decide I want a beer and generally have a piece of mistletoe clipped to my shirt tail. Feel free to use it.

I entered the store and went straight to the beer refrigerator and snagged a half-dozen chilled bottles of Stella Artois, otherwise known as nectar of the gods and headed to the register.

I was halfway there when I heard a voice quivering with fear and self rightous indignation cry out, "There's a teenager outside trying to get an adult to buy alcohol for him!"

Now my mentors while growing up were the WW2 guys and they all had their own individual senses of morality and following the fine example set by them, I developed my own.

When I heard the upset woman I realized that it was one of those situations where I was faced living up to my personal morals. I knew that it would be completely and totally morally wrong to let that one go without immediate action. I would not be able to live with myself otherwise. I held up my six-pack high.

"Don't worry, Lady. I  have him taken care of!" I said. Then I turned to the 12 year old about 10 feet away and asked loudly "Hey, Kid, Howya doin' for smokes?"

The shocked kid recovered quickly and replied, "I'm good. Thanks." He was a sharp kid. He knew a troll when he saw one. He was a damned sight smarter than the woman.

Needless to say the woman went off like a ten pound block of C-4.

"How can you possibly give alcohol to a young person?" she screeched.

"Lady, I'm not giving him anything. I'm trading it with him for a bag of weed. Senior citizens are always getting ripped off and the only way us seniors can get any decent dope is to hook up with a teenager! Besides, it's good for them. It washes the cocaine out of their systems."

That really wound her up! She didn't notice everyone in the store covering their mouths to keep from laughing.

I had my ID scanned (at age 70), paid for my beer and as I was doing this the woman whipped out her phone and dialed 911. As I was walking out I listened to her report the Crime of the Century.

I shuffled out of the store, searched for the kids, found them and then I am ashamed to admit I slipped back into my youth. " Cheese it! The cops!" I shouted.

Then I realized that there are things that simply transcend the generations. While I have not heard (or used) the warning I gave the two kids used in over 50 years, there was no doubt to them what it meant. The kid jumped into his pal's car and they roared out of the convenience store parking lot. I was impressed because the instant they hit the street they merged and quietly drove off. I was somewhat impressed with the professional way they quietly left with no spinning ot tires or other fanfare. They had obviously been trained and trained well.

I threw my beer into the cab of my pickup and quietly left. As I was leaving the parking lot a police car came roaring in.

As I drove myself home I laughed and wondered what kind of three ring circus I had created. 

Aftermath.

Two weeks later. 

Location: The same convenience store.

I walked in because the beer I had bought two weeks earlier was gone and I was in the mood for one. I walked past the register and as I did I heard the guy ringing he register shout, "It's that guy!"

I froze and turned to leave but was stopped cold. Suddenly I was introduced to the entire store staff and a couple of the regulars and treated to the tale of what happened after I had left.

They told me what happened when the police arrived. The cop figured out almost immediately she had been trolled and promised her he'd get the entire department on the case.

The clerk said that as the cop spoke he had a mental picture painted for him of an old fashioned desk sergeant sitting at a high desk in front of a big lollipop microphone saying, "Calling all cars! Calling all cars!" as old fashioned police cars started turing on sirens and cops on motorcycles behind billboards kick-started Harleys and roared off in hot pursuit of some desperate criminal. In the squad cars the guys riding shotgun were loading Tommy guns in preperation for the climatic shootout. Straight out of an old James Cagney movie!

He told me the officer took about 10 pages of seeemingly careful notes and when the woman finally left he handed his 'notes' to the clerk and asked him to throw them out. He looked at them and said the pages were just inane scribbling. He told me the cop laid it on really thick to their amusement while the woman was carefully describing the desperate youthful criminals.

Then they took my six-pack from me and replaced it with a 12-pack and simply gave it to me for free. "Manager's orders," he explained. 

Three months later: 

I was in the same area and a cop was enjoying a cup of coffee at a coffee shop and I sat down at the next table. I struck up a conversation with him by asking him what was his most entertaining call in the past year or so. He thought for a couple of seconds and chuckled.

"A while ago I got called to a convenience store by some upset woman that reported that some old man was trading beer for marijuana with a teenager..."

I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut and listened to a VERY entertaining story and laughed myself silly. 

   

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Wow! Sophia Loren is still quite attractive at 88 years old.

Most of you readers will likely agree that at 88 she still looks incredible but most likely there are a few idiots that do not know how to put things into perspective.

Of course if the naysayers live long enough they will figure it out.

She was cartainly born beautiful but you can bet your ass she's worked her ass off to keep her looks! Looks like her hard work has paid off.

While she is no longer a youthful hottie, she's a beautiful older woman.

She looks a damned sight better than a lot of women that are not even 30 yet!

8888888888888888888888888

 

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I just read where some whiner thinks it's unfair that West Pointers get to go to college for free.

Kid, I'll tell you what I'm gonna give ya.

A four year education with no out of pocket expenses.

All I ask is that in addition to the major of your choice you take and pass the courses I require to include math, physics and land and celestial navigation, rifle and pistol marksmanship, platoon level infantry tactics, advanced first aid and a few other things. I also recommend you spend your first break taking a 3 week parachutist class.

And, oh yeah. For the first 8 years you work for me and go where I send you and do what I tell you without question or complaint.

Before you dive into this, think long and hard.  

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Chili today.

Made a huge pot of it and let it simmer for over 6 hours and now it's in the refrigerator untouched.

Tomorrow I'll heat it up again and put it back in the refrigerator for serving the day after tomorrow.

When I serve it I may not even heat it up because cold chili makes a pretty good meal. It's kinda like cold pizza or spaghetti.

I should get a few days out of it.

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I just realized I could probably run a TV off of my phone. 

I got electricity in my house but the internet units in the garage fried and it's going to be a while before I get up and running. I'll be able to make posts using my cell phone as an ISP but it's a royal pain tethering my laptop to it.

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I am watching the Jack Benny program, an OLD rerun

which first aired when I was a small child.

It certainly has passed the test of time because it is just as funny now as it was when it first came out.

I was talking about things like this to a guy 20 yeas my junior and suggested he overlook the fact that the movies are in black and white and check out Laurel and Hardy or the Marx Brothers. 

Looks like we're going to spend a Night at the Opera.

One of the things I sometimes tell young people to do is to Googe 'Marx Brothers, the cabin scene' and tell me what they think of it.

I have yet to have one single person that did that report to me that they didn't laugh their ass off.

A person could probably go through life entertained by pre 1960 movies and not really miss a whole lot.

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I wonder why ANYONE with at least half of a brain

would want to leave even a remotely successful career to run for public office these days.

By remotely successsful I'm talking about something like a plumber, electrician, pipefitter, small businessman, or even a ditch digger. Why anyone would want to tear up their family is beyond me because that's what generally happens when someone runs for office.

The first thing your opponents are going to do is dig deeply onto your past to find something dirty on you.

Remember the time you screwed that fat chick when you were bombed out of your mind the year after you graduated from high school? You don't? Think about it. It'll come back to you...

Oh...THAT fat chick. So?

So she's still as fat and still as ugly and remembers it and the fact that your opponent dug around and found out about it and has offered her $750,000 to go on record and say it was against her will.

Now you have to explain THAT one to your family even though the truth is she groped you and carried you out of the party by the short hairs and like to have torn your pants off as she hauled you off.

Not to worry, you're not likely to wind up in prison. It won't even get to court but your entire family has been smeared and over what?

(I laughed at the way Trump handled his accusation. He sued her successfully and everyone laughed that the hooker paid him.)

Still, the game is dirty and generally there are three types of people that head into the political arena.

First is the naive guy that really wants to make a difference. He doesn't last very long.

Then there's the 'what's in it for me?' type that has his hand out all the time.

The third is the idiot that wants to be able to tell other people what to do. (Lust for 'power'.) These guys can kiss my ass because I don't listen to them to begin with. I've seen a few of them that were being ignored screaming, shouting and making empty threats because nobody is listening to them. It's funny, really.

A couple of governors have done this much to my amusement when people were ordered to turn in guns or magazines and nobody did.

IIRC in New Jersey they wanted guns turned in and got about six of them turned in, most likely by scared wives of the owners and out of the six , five of them were probably (rightfully so) beaten senseless by their husbands.

The real reson we get so many idiots running for office is that most people are not stupid enough to play that game.

And I don't blame them.

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Melania Trump did not design the Merchant Marine uniform,

which would surprise a number of people. fact is, we wear rags. Rags? Yes. rags.

The unofficial clothiers are places like Goodwill, rummage sales or Bag Lady Sally who can gig a guy up half a duffel bag full of uniforms for well under five or six bucks.

A skipper is apt to show p for work in a pair of jeans some cowboy threw away and a deckhand is apt to wear a pair of jeans some tug skipper threw away.

Skippers sometimes show up in cutoff sweats and flip flops unless they are going to leave the wheelhouse in which case they slip on the ambigous work shoes.

The reason I am posting this is because I am getting pretty short and I am going through my stuff to figure what I am taking home and what gets ditched. 

I thnk I'll souvenier my float coat for occasional use during winter inclement weather and I'll hang onto my insulated overalls but that's about it. The grubby hoodies, ratty underwear. The wash and ready to wear through pants are history as are the oily gloves, nasty helmet liners and blessed (holey) socks. 

The work boots are shot and they'll get their laces tied together and get thrown over a power line or something. There's a trick to that to keep someone from getting them down with a pole. You have to make them flip around a time or two to lock them in so it'll take years for the weather to rot them off.

The reason I posted this is because my shipmate and I were yakking and I found out I am not alone. When I said I was a Merchant Mariner to someone they asked me where my uniform was.

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Slower New York

eBay. A pretty good looking lid to add to my fedora collection. You know. The collection I lost in the fire.

Whatever.

So on the sales information there is no size so I message them and ask what size it is.

"It fits my uncle great," is the reply.

"Which uncle? Uncle Fathead or Uncle Pinhead?"

"His head is a pretty normal size."

"Thank you for your accurate description."

Skip that one.

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Thank God for GPS because now if you get lost it's turn on Suzie Garmin. No more of this:

"Hey, I'm lost and trying to get to such and such a place. Can you help me?"

"Sure. Go down this road until you get to Louie's house and take a right. Follow that past the place they had all that coal piled up during the war and when you get to where the big tree they cut down six or seven years ago is, take a left. Then you go to where the Smith boy had that terrible accident back in 1962 and go right...."

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I think a clarification is in order here.

he other day I set an old man straight and pointed out that he actually did join the Army even though he never shipped. 

I worked with a guy that had signed up and just before he took the oath his life changed. His father died and he was the oldest son and had to take care of things at home. Fair enough. 

I worked with another guy that at the last minute opted for college instead. For him it really was a wise choice and the world is a better place because of his choice. 

Another guy I worked with for a while told me he looked into the service and decided it wasn't for him. Fair enough. Actually he's in his sixties now and is still militarily useful as he moves jet fuel under a DoD contract occasionally. That actually makes him more useful than an awful lot of GIs. We're actually better off for him chosen to move oil instead of being just another GI in The Machine. Not only does he assist the military, he's a part of the reason you don't have to walk home and freeze in the dark.

Another couple of guys I knew said, "Screw that! I got better things to do." which I do not hold against them whatsoever.

The 'Almost joined' people I am talking about are not those aforementioned people.

The 'Almost joined' I am writing about are a different breed altogether.

You got three or four guys sitting there over coffee and one of them says that the coffee is as bad as the swill he got in the Navy and the rest of them laugh and chip in that the coffee in their branch was just as bad. Someone adds, 'It's all the same DoD crap,' and a chuckle is shared. Come to find out all of the guys in the group are veterans.

Someone else sits down at the table and is welcomed as we continue to gripe about the DoD grade cups of mud we are swilling down. He never served but is welcome or was until he has to point out that he 'Almost joined' the Marines followed by some lame excuse as to why he didn't.

He would have been welcome into the group, service or no service. Most vets consider their service to be just another chapter in their lives. When they got out they continued along making their lives better, worse or outright miserable depending on their natures.

But this dolt just had to try and join a nonexistant club with and gives a lame excuse as to why he's not a full fledged member of a club that doesn't even exist to begin with. This is an 'almost joined' guy.

Our service is just one small thing we share in common and no matter what he won't be able to share it with us for the same reason I can't join the fraternity of Indy 500 race car drivers. I never drove in that race.

It doesn't make me a bad guy. It just makes me another guy that never raced in the Indy 500. I'm not in the fraternity of college graduates or a lot of other things, either. So what?

However, I AM in the fraternity of people that were over 65 when they made a 13,500 foot free fall. I didn't 'almost jump. I jumped.

(In fact not only did I jump but I scared theliving bejeesus out of my jump buddy by screeching like a banshee as I dragged him out of the plane with me! but I digress.)

Then there's the other 'almost joined' guy that really frosts my ass to no avail.

I have a classmate that told me once he 'almost joined'. In a pig's ass he almost joined.

Back in the day there were a lot of people crapping on those that served during the Vietnam era. This guy was one of them.

Over the years I have had a couple of people actually apologize to me for the way they treated veterans back in the day. Not this guy.

Of course he spent high school playing the popularity game and it still shows.

Reagan gave the military their pride back and over time the attitude of the public has changed. These days military service is a souce of pride and GIs are not afraid to be seen in public while in uniform. 

When I was stationed at Carson the army discouraged us from wearing uniforms off post, on duty or off. I would imagine that's changed and in Colorado Springs seeing a uniform these days is probably part of the woodwork.

Now it's over 40 years later and there he was on Facebook.

Someone asked me a question about my service time and that sod chimed in "I almost joined but figured my father and brother had served so I didn't  bother."

His brother has served earlier in Vietnam with distinction.

Almost joined , my ass! He likly never went within 5 miles of a recruiting station unless it was to insult the GIs in it. Who is he trying to kid?

Almost joined. He almost joined.

Yeah? Well I almost joined the French Foreign Legion but my mother wouldn't let me. How's that?

You joined or you didn't and there's no shame if you didn't but be up front about it. 

As for those that tried to enlist didn't get in for whatever reason? You didn't almost join. You tried to join. That's the way it is. There's one hell of a difference.

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Waffle house gets a lot of things said about it

Mention them and someone always has something unflattering to say about them which is OK from their business point of view as bad press is better than no press at all.

But it is what it is, really.

I've eaten there and likely will eat there again. I have nothing against the place and while the food wasn't cooked by a gourmet chef, it's a halfway decent breakfast/lunch joint.

Nothing fancy about the place and the prices are fairly reasonable.

I have not wandered into one at 0300 tanked up before and it isn't too likely I ever will but I would imagine an 0300 breakfast there while half bombed would hit the spot. 

And that's pretty much all that I ask for out of a place like that.

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As I near retirement I am starting to get the business from the guys.

Years ago on an unmanned barge there were no toilet facilities and peeing over the side was not an option we used a 5 gallon pail with a lid for a urinal. We'd discreetly empty it after we used it, or at the least on a daily basis. The other crew also used it and it was somewhat of a secret from the office.

The guys were actually pretty good about keeping it reasonably clean and bleached it often so it wasn't too nasty.

One time the night before crew change I took the lid and stenciled 'Empty monthly' on it and the other crew went insane and started all sorts of rumors about what pigs we were. 

Then there was the pink feather boa I sneaked in and hung on the coat rack in the entryway where everyone could see it.

Needless to say, people asked the crew where it came from and both sides blamed the other crew and it graced a coat hook for about a year or so keeping everyone guessing where it came from and causing numerous outrageous rumors.

Every now and then on a certain barge someone finds 'Rent this space' stencils in odd nooks and crannies. Wonder who put those there?

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Piccolo sets an old man straight

Every so often I hear someone say 'I almost joined the (insert service here)." In this case it was the Army.

It irks the dogsnot out of me and I generally say something.

"What do you mean almost?" I asked, warily.

"I signed up but then they let me go because I had a heart murmur," he replied. "I flunked the physical."

"Did you sign your name on the dotted line?" I asked.

"Yeah, I did," he replied.

"Then you didn't almost join the Army. You DID join the Army. You got nothing to be ashamed about whatsoever." I said. "They let you go for a heart murmur which you had no control over. You manned up and signed your name on the dotted line and that means something!"

The reason I was wary when he said 'almost' joined the Army is because I hear that from time to time, generally from some sad sack that's trying to be one of the boys.

"Well, I almost joined the army..." 

When I hear that as a general rule the person that said that winds up having to fill out a hurt feelings report because it's bull$hit and I called him on it. 

Either you joined or you didn't. 

I suppose a lot of vets and even numerous non vets think that a person has to have X many days/weeks/months/years to be able to say they joined. There IS a minimum time spent serving in order to claim veteran's status (and benefits) but that's not the point I am making.

If you signed on the dotted line, you joined. Period.

Either you stood tall before The Man and signed the paper or you did not. It really doesn't matter to me either way. As I sit here posting this the guy across the table joined. He signed papers and got rejected at MEPS and never even left for basic training. No shame there. Still, for that minute he stood before The Man and signed the paper.

Another guy on board never did enlist. He'll tell you that up front and outright. No shame there. There was no draft at the time and he had other things to do.

This post is aimed directly at those that are hemmers and hawers that are trying to play both ends out against the middle. Either you joined or you didn't. Either your pregnant or you're not.

Tell me about how you almost joined the service and you are going to get an earful from me.

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Then there's the wannabe tough guy that says he wasn't going to take any $hit from the drill instructors and would probably beat the hell out of him.

Yeah, right.

About a decade ago I heard someone say that and the guy I was with went off on him. My cohort had actually served as a drill sergeant and really got into Mr. Tough guy's face. Gunny Ermey would have been proud of him as he called him every name in the book and pleaded with him to take a swing.

It turned out to be one of the best humiliations I have ever seen in my life. He had Mr. Tough guy quaking in his flip flops.

Almost joined, my ass!

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I have a pretty good solar cell phone charger and I think I am going to

try and get some idea of how effecient it really is.

I got taken on one of those bricks with a panel in it that only serves to keep the thing topped off. This is a bona fide folding set of 3 panels that actually does something. I've used it before and didn't really keep score on how effecient it really is and curiosity is starting to get to me.

It's outside in direct sunlight and attached to a basic flip phone. I put it there at 0945. I guess I am going to have to check it often to make sure that when the sun moves it doesn't get into the shade.

We shall see what we shall see.

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Update.

As usual the sun went in and out but I have conclused a 15 Watt panel can charge a phone in between 2-3 hours if one has good, direct sunlight.

100% in 4 hours and a LOT, maybe as much as a half of the time the unit was in the shade.

Couple that with the fact that I laid it flat instead of propped it up to actually face the sun squarely.

Pretty good if you ask me.

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It probably won't be long before I need a new phone

Because I do believe it is a scam.

I will need one with more memory and more storage because mine will fill up because of all of the crap you keep getting fed by the makers to keep up with the changing technology.

I could STILL be getting along just fine with the computer I had 20+ years ago that ran Windows 98 if I could because it did then what I do now. Surf the web and post here.

I bet a lot of us could.

(Before you jump to conclusions I am more than aware of the security issues etc. of running obsolete programs. My point is that I don't use a lot of available technology. )

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I'm NOT anti high tech by any stretch of the imagination. There's a definite use for it. It can make ALL of our lives easier.

Still, for a lot of us we don't need a whole of in our daily lives on a day by day basis. 

  

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You don't see Old School courtesies anymore.

Used to be that when you traversed the Cape Cod Canal years ago the (required) assist tug would steer alongside and hand the tankerman on deck a dozen doughnuts, a newspaper and a carton of smokes.

It wasn't all that long ago but it was what happened just about every time.

Of course, the smokes were the first to stop. For one thing they got expensive. Then there was the health issue. The rest dried up shortly afterwards.

Then again, our port captains used to bring goodies to us during their visits. Sometimes they'd bring breakfast sandwiches or subs, burgers, SOMETHING.

Now everybody shows up empty handed and wants something from you. Usually something stupid and/or obnoxious like MORE paperwork.

I used to move 50,000 barrels of oil with paperwork consisting of an ullage sheet and the Coast Guard Declaration of Inspection, period.

Now you have to fill out at least 30 pages of meaningless drivel just to load cargo and probably as much to discharge the same cargo. Most of the paperwork is totally meaningless and I bet 95% of the guys just gun deck it anyway.

I'm sure glad I worked through the Good Old Days and remember when we treated each other a lot better than we do today.

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As far as retirement goes, I think it's time as most of the good guys I have worked with on the docks are not there anymore. Those were the guys that made problems vanish instead of creating them.

On a transfer there can only be one Declaration of Inspection and both companies would insist that theirs was the Holy Grail and HAD to be the one used.

Quick fix. Fill out both. We would put ours on the clipboard and rathole the dock's and they would do the same thing. When they were 30 days old they would be thrown out per Coast Guard rules.

Today some of the dock guys would be paralyzed dealing with things like this. Actually so would some of the seagoing guys.

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A lot of places used to hand out bottles of pretty good hooch at Christmas time but that's another post. 

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just put in for my retirement today

for 22 November.

It will be the end of an era.

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I just heard a pretty good sea story about an auditor and a tug skipper.

As usual the auditing company hired a guy with a ship background to audit a tugboat and they picked the wrong tug skipper to audit.

The auditor started judging the skipper by ship standards and the two of them butted heads and damned near came to blows. Tugs and ships are two entirely different animals and you can't judge a tug by ship standards.

Truth of the matter is if I ran a shipping company I would much rather have to use a tug skipper to run a ship than a ship's captain to skipper a tug from a plain 'git 'er done' standpoint.

Still, the two of them went round and round and the skipper's argument held a LOT more water than the auditor's did. The skipper pointed out that he had more important things to do while negotiating, say, the Houston Ship Channel than walk away from the wheel to fill out meaningless paperwork.

Of course the tug skipper was right. With about maybe 50 feet to spare on either side it would take a matter of a couple of seconds for the tug and barge to leave the channel and run aground. He had to pay full attention to what he was doing. There was no time to play paperwork games.

Ship captains that come ashore are in demand because of their real and/or percieved knowledge of all things nautical. While most of them do have a decent base of knowledge, they often forget that tugs are not ships and with a small crew can not be run the same way.

Anyway, I can't post accurately what went on between the two, I know the tug skipper involved and I can say reasonably certain that hilarity ensued and that the poor company representative that was stuck in the middle.

Still, the line in the story that made me laugh the hardest was "The skipper told me (the cargo mate) to simmer down and keep my temper. I did and the auditor went into the tug wheelhouse."

He continued.

"About 20 minutes later I could hear those two going at it it from the deck of the barge I thought that the skipper was probably going to knock him cold and throw him over the side!"

Knowing the skipper I can say it must have been a real donnybrook!

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