Now the front bedroom is done

All that remains is a good cleaning and I turn it over to the wife.

That's 2 bedrooms complete.

I'm still using the upstairs toilet and showering in the main bathroom. As soon as the floor covering is chosen I will get on that and it will take about 2 days and I'll pretty much be complete livingwise.

I have to DryLok the basement and get a garage door installed for the final finish. 

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Affirmative Action in college gone. SCOTUS says so.

Good.

Anything other than a colorblind meritocracy is racist.

Period.

It's too bad that ALL  of the Affirmative Action programs out there didn't go away. 

Hopefully this is the wave of the future.

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Another day at it.

There's a lot to do today because I have to get ready to get ready to get ready to....

One of those days coming up.

Yesterday I wanted to end a call from a kind but too damned gabby person.

I said, "Hey, I got another call coming in and I have to take it or my parole officer will go crazy."

ZING! "Oh. OK."

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My bedroom is now FINISHED

The last nail has been driven, the last dab of paint applied and the pictures are back up on the wall. All I have to do there today is make my bed.

It's a good feeling.

Today the last  of the painting in the front bedroom gets done and that behind me after the final cleanup.

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87% of all scientists do what the person paying them tells them to do.

The other 13% are banned from social media.

Read a meme I saw.

There's more than a kernel of truth to that.

On Nextdoor during Covid Wars the Karens there were constantly citing the CDC said this and the CDC said that.

I pointed out that it was the same CDC that covered for the tobacco industry for over thirty years and posted a video of an old 'Nine out of ten doctors prefer Camels' ads. 

Scientists have to eat, too and they have to own cars to get to work and go grocery shopping. Hell, Hollywood has shown scientists saying, "If we lose this grant..." (meaning payday will be cancelled)

Remember that when you hear someone say "Science is real."

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I just snagged a pretty good couch for fifty bucks.

which ain't bad at all.

The other one we had brought new got too damned smoked up after the fire to keep and besides it had been through the mill with a half dozen cats through the years so we pitched it.

Things are slowly coming back to normal and at a match I mentioned to a couple of the guys I was probably going to buy a leather couch because the cat has left the leather Lazy Boy unscathed. I was looking at probably paying about $1500 to maybe $2000 for one.

Last night I got a call from a friend who told me to call one of the guys which I did. Seems his girlfriend's cousin's drinking buddy's uncle's niece had a girlfriend that wanted to get rid of a leather sofa and that an hour earlier she had posted it on Craigslist.

I looked at the ad and it looked pretty good so I made contact and said I wanted to check it out. I was told to come by at noon and was given an address.

I called the kid down the street and told him to meet me at 11 and off we went.

I was really rather dubious but figured WTF why not? I'll check out a couch for $50. Frankly I imagined having to enter a rat trap apartment and step on dog $hit but it was worth taking a chance.

Either way, I'd get to have lunch with the kid who really isn't a kid. He's a scientist. 

When I arrived the apartment was meticulously clean and neat. I examined it, pulled the cushions and it was clean as a hound's tooth. I figured on getting a can of bug spray on the way home because I bought it. Fifty bucks.

We managed to get the damned thing down three flights of stair and into the pickup OK and on the way home I told him the story of how I won the Legion of Honor at Ft. Zindernauf for shooting 38 A-rabs* off the back of a camel. 

On the way back I stopped at a drugstore and grabbed a spray can of cootie killer just in case. While I was in the store my friend the scientist did some calculating. As I got back into the pickup he explained to me that the average camel could carry about 500 pounds and average weight of the 38 A-rabs was about 13.1578 pounds each which was good to know. If I remember, them A-rabs did look a bit on the skinny side.

While we were on the home stretch I asked him the rate of flight of an unladen swallow and he gave me the rates for both an African and a European. No flies on that kid! But then again what do you expect of an aeronautical engineering student entering his junior year at Embry-Riddle with a 4.0 average.

When we got home we brought it into the living room and I gave it a quick spray down and let it rest a while. After it dried out the cat jumped up on it and seems to rather like it. If it's OK by Kitty it's OK by me and is pretty damned comfortable.

It's not brand new by any stretch but is nicely worn in. I like broken in leather, myself. The worst part of getting anything made of leather is breaking it in and this one is comfortably broken in which is a BIG plus.

The floors need redoing but as long as I have a cat they're going to stay distressed which I kind of like.

*A-rabs are not to be mistaken for Arabs. The latter are real people of Middle East extraction while A-rabs are a creation of Hollywood.

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Do men have the right to have babies?

I threw that question out on another forum and at last count 60% of the respondents said no.

RTFQ. Read the f***ing question and don't try to read anything into it.

Men have a right to have babies.

Read the Constitution. Pay attention to Amendment 10. The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people

I know of no state law prohibiting it.

I guess men have the right to have babies.

If you have a right, keep it. You don't have to exercise it but never give it up as stupid and petty as it may be.

"Yeah, but..." my ass! We have a right. NEVER give it up. 

Years ago I stuck up for the rights of some Skinhead group to have a march and got shit for it. No regrets.

It's either all of us or none of us.

NEVER give up a single right no matter  WHAT it is or how stupid it sounds!

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Someone asked me why it was so easy to buy a machine gun

I've been through this one before and decided to do a little educating.

I stuffed Larry into my pickup and took him to my friendly, local neighborhood Class 3 dealer who has been in the business for decades, mainly selling regular firearms. He rarely transfers a machine gun.

Now Lou is a pretty good guy and when I told him I was educating someone he took an interest. Business was a little slow and his #1 assistant could hold down the fort.

We decided to run with an M-16 which we discovered on line for the paltry sum of $32,995 and my companion grew very wide-eyed at the price. Then Lou started to walk him through the paperwork and pointed out he'd be lucky to take possession of the damned  thing in sometime between 3 months to over a year and $200 later depending on how smooth things go through BATFE and how backed up they are these days.

He looked a bit stunned. 

Then he asked how much hassle goes through a basic hunting rifle and he ran him through the process and he looked a bit surprised. He was unaware of having to go through the background check.

Larry pointed to a couple of ARs on the wall and asked what about them?

Lou explained that those were not machine guns and then shouted to his #1 man, "We still got that mini 14 in back?" Number one said he thought so.

Lou went in back and came out with the mini 14 and went back into the back room again and came out with a couple of uber cool tactical stocks for the mini 14.

He yanked the action out of the mini 14 and put them into the uber cool stocks that turned a simple utility rifle into an Evil Black Rifle and pointed out that the ARs were pretty identical in function. 

Larry's eyes opened a bit as he realized what he was seeing.

A customer that had been in ahead of us was taking possession of a shotgun and he had been run through the process in about 20 minutes as I guess things were just slightly backed up. I believe the customer had no criminal record of any kind because there were no real delays. I told Larry to take notice of that.

Lou then handed him a paper 4473 and my companion read it and we explained what the process was on line as Lou runs his through on line. 

We left after thanking Lou who was glad to help educate the public. I did see a brick of .22 LR and bought it on the way out.

On the ride home Larry said he was unaware of the procedure to purchase a firearm. His wife had told him that machine guns were over the counter cash items.

I asked him where she heard that and she said it was from Delores down the street. I know who she is but have never talked to her. 

We traced back the story to some mother's anti gun group member friend of Delores. 

I didn't let Larry completely off the hook.

I pointed out that both sides lie like rugs to further their cause and use all sorts of disinformation and backstreet gossip to influence others. Then I said to him that now he has seen things first hand he can make an informed decision. I suggested he do a little research on his own before believing the 'I heards' or 'somebody saids'.

Then I offered to take him to a shooting match if he wanted to watch one and maybe ask a few questions.

Update. I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and ran into Larry yesterday afternoon.  He asked me about guns and kids. Seeing he has a couple I asked him a few questions about them. The youngest is ten and I explained to him that it's a lot easier to gun proof one's kids at that age than kid proof one's guns.

I doubt that anything will come to fruition in the very near future but I believe his attitude has changed. Time will tell.

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I pulled targets for a 16 YO girl today that blew my mind

She's a skinny little 90 pound girl and her first string at 200 yards was a 6X clean! Yeah! 100 points and 6 in the X-ring!

She was using a service rifle and shooting out of competition in an M1 Garand match that I was supposed to be shooting in.

I smashed the living dog snot out of my thumb yesterday and anyone that knows a Garand knows you don't want to be shooting one with a smashed thumb.

The day before that I had taken my Garand out of the safe and inspected it and got ready because I was looking forward to the match. After I inspected it I put it back in the safe.

Yesterday I smashed  my thumb causing a pal to comment I had gotten M1 thumb with my rifle in the safe. Go figure.

I went to the match anyway and my pal and I pulled targets for her and she pulled them for him.

After years with the AR platform, an M1 is hard to shoot well. The AR's ergonomics have spoiled my.

My pal bronzed.

 

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No kitchen is complete without a

Five-in-one paint scraper.

It's as handy as a shirt pocket if you are a cast iron cook for keeping things from getting stuck. 3eeerfffffffffffe        3ewddeddxdxxxxxxx

The cat just pissed me off.

Trust me, a 5 in 1 is handy in the kitchen

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A while ago I made a comment that I don't care if someone marries a halibut.

and I don't.

But I just thought of something.

Ya gotta time it or you're gonna have problems because halibut are born male and when they reach about 45 inches long they turn female.

So some chick marries, say a nice, handsome 40 inch halibut and then a while later her hunky husband turns female on her.

Hmmm. Take THAT to the marriage counselor and see what they have to say. This could get interesting, hilarious or both.

Then again spose it's a gay marriage? Some guy marries a young halibut who turns female on him. 

This is getting weird.

On the other hand, I suppose a guy that does marry a halibut isn't too likely to have to cough up half of his stuff if he gets divorced because I've never seen a fish with any money. 

I suppose that if someone divorces a halibut some judge will insist the poor guy pay alimony in kind by having to throw some nasty old dead fish off a pier daily or something along these lines.

Anyway that's not my problem. I'm married to another homo sapien. 

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Someone on another board asked what would happen if

every black left the country.

Someone else replied that racial problems would reduce VERY significantly and the violent crime rate would drop by about 80%.

Actually I have also read 50%. Whatever. That's a lot higher than the 13% black population.

I'm sure he was called racist or that statement but it's actually pretty close to being true. It's not racist if it's true. Race problems would come close to vanishing and the violent crime rate would drop off significantly. Let's face it, Whites, Hispanics and Asians get along fairly well.   Read the crime rate demographic and you'll see it to be about right.

On the other hand that statement, while true in itself, is a bit misleading. It makes it sound like 13% of the population commits 80% of the violent crime which is not true.

The 50 to 80% of the crime is committed by a small minority of the 13%. Using the 80/20 law, I figure that about 50 to 80% of the violent crime is committed by committed by about 2.6% of the population. Sounds about right from all I've read.

This is never really going to change until the 97.4% of the black community decides to throw the 2.6% under the bus where they belong.

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Splits often turn into chaos

because people don't know how to listen.

They hear the DX station and jump right in before they hear the station say "Listening up".

As I type this that is what I am listening to.

Chaos. Pure unadultrated chaos.

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At the Sunday match I shot

one of the guys brought his two little daughters. They were well trained and stayed out of the way and played with each other which was fine.

After the match when things were winding down they were next to me for some reason and I said to the bigger of the two (Dad was holding the little one.) "I had a pretty little girl just like you," which was really 'apply anywhere' bull$hit to little kids. I have no children. Needless to say the little girl beamed. She was really cute.

One of the other guys heard it and said, "Then she grew up, right?"

I replied, "Nope. I lost her in a poker game when she was six...  my wife wouldn't speak to me for almost two whole weeks after that happened."

His jaw dropped for a second and he recovered and didn't know what to say for a couple of seconds but everyone there that knew me busted up laughing.

Someone said he was going to borrow that one which is a compliment of the highest order.

 

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Regular Army clowns.

is a term I have not heard in years. I guess it goes back to the era of the draftees.

Still, to have been a Regular Army Clown you not only had to be Regular Army but a pompous ass.

I had a relative that was an incredible Morse Code (CW) radio operator that was draft exempt because he was wanted as a civilian to teach his skill to others. The LAST thing the Army wanted him to do was enlist because he'd be susceptible to the whims of every pompous ass captain, major and colonel that he passed by.

A specialist like that would often find he had a little more free time than the other guys and it didn't take long before some idiot would think up something annoying for him to do in his off time when most likely he was studying during his off time.

People don't realize that the pilots of the Military Airlift Command were told NOT to enlist in the Army Air Corps for just that very reason. As civilians they were untouchable because the military had no control over them.

The relative was a prewar ham and sent code in his sleep at about a jillion words a second and was wanted to train high speed radio operators. He was told NOT to enlist and told if there were any problems with the draft board to report it instantly.

From what I heard the old war widow running the draft board tried drafting merchant mariners, MAC pilots and everyone else that had legitimate deferments.

"It's not fair to the other boys," she'd say and send "Greetings" out to those that were busy in the defense industry and had deferments of one sort or another.

Anyway she every time my uncle got drafted the woman got paid a visit and he got undrafted. After a couple of times she got a visit from a few high ranking officers and a couple of senior NCOs that explained to her that if she kept it up she'd not only be fired but sent to a mental institution for the duration.

It takes about six months to make a basic soldier, six or seven years to make a basic farmer to feed soldiers and about 10+ years to make a truly talented high speed radio operator.

As far as MAC pilots went, they were not overnight wonders, either. The brass knew this.

I always wondered about how some Regular Army Clown colonel such and such made out when he tried to throw is weight around on MAC pilots. While he may have had the clout to send a flight out early, he'd likely never get away with the usual "The general is coming! We gotta paint a bunch of rocks white and lay out paths!" crap.

A pilot could (and often did) simply say, "I'm leaving on a 16 hour flight in seven hours and I need some sleep. Do it yourself." and walk off.

The stupid ones reported to the general that the pilots ignored him and if the general had half a brain blistered the idiot.

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I missed a day

because I woke up and ran off to a service rifle match, an 80 round match.

The Range officer said we could shoot a 50 round match if we wanted to but I decided to go the whole mile. 

I had a problem with my eyesight and was kinda like Mr McGoo.

I did poorly and it's either open the rear aperture or rebuild the old work horse and install glass. I'd rather shoot irons so I guess I'll just open up the rear aperture and see what happens. I think I now need more light.

My other choice is rebuild the rifle and install glass which I am somewhat loathe to do. The rifle has a low round count and that means I can reuse everything except the upper receiver.

Still, I love irons so I have to dig out the rest of the apertures that i got when I bought the rear sight and swap them out.

There's a Garand match coming up and I asked the range officer if I can put a piece of orange on the target number to keep from cross firing. I think he's good with it.

In other news while I didn't shoot the match I saw improvision at its finest at a match I attended but did not shoot. 

Some spring growth obscured the far right target from the shooting position 300 yards away. 

The guy two down could see the target and the guy on the right could see his so they had the scorers in the pits change score cards and they cross fired into each other's targets. Quick fix!

It it's stupid and it works it's not stupid.

In other news I mentioned that years ago I have been cheated out of my Sharpshooter rating by a lazy secretary  that didn't send my scores in. The range officer overheard that and spoke to me.

Apparently they have the old records somewhere and he said he's see what he can do. It would be nice to have a Sharpshooter's card.

That was awfully kind of the guy and even if he can't get it done I really appreciate it. 

What is interesting to note is that he was a cocky smart ass years ago when he was a kid but has grown up to be a kind and compassionate person. He's OK in my book. He didn't have to offer to do that but he did and I'm grateful for him just offering to try for me.

Yesterday I saw a couple of guys shoot 9X cleans! Amazing!

My scorer told me yesterday that he saw when my eyes would clear up a but because I'd hammer a few rounds into the 10 ring and then kind of veer off.

Anyway, the club lets guys shoot out of competition so I can go and enjoy myself. I've shot a couple of matches with a 10/22 much to my enjoyment and the amusement of others.

After the match one of the guys had brought his daughters and I said to the little one, "I used to have a little girl just like YOU!" She beamed. 

Someone asked me, "Then she grew up, huh?"

I sadly replied, "No. I lost her in a poker game when she was six. Why, my wife wouldn't talk to me for almost two whole weeks after that happened."

The guy looked confused for a second but everyone else howled. 

The other thing that happened was we were talking about earlier matches we had shot and when I was telling my story I asked one of the guys if he had attended that match. He said he hadn't.

"Oh, good!" I replied. "Now I can add another ten points to the score I shot."

Then the guys started adding their bull$hit to the tale about how everyone else that shot the match had since died and I was the sole survivor and so on.

Sometimes the good natured bull$hit is as much fun as the match. 

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Full load.

Back in the business I would sometimes get orders to take a 'full load'.

That meant stuff as much cargo into the boat as we safely could.

I had broken out a new vessel and was at the shipyard with my relief and over a quick lunch the subject came up and my relief and I came up with what we considered a SAFE full load.

If I recall, it was 95% of what the tanks could actually hold. We did this to allow for cargo expansion. Like most things, oil expands when it is heated. 

About a year later my relief took anther position and was replaced by an idiot hillbilly.

When they gave him orders to take a full load he stuffed it to about 99+% even after I had explained to him how things worked. He just had to outdo everyone else and I got questioned once about why he was able to get more cargo on board.

"Because I'm not stupid," I explained and reminded them that cargo can expand and when it does one has to find a place to put it. Furthermore I said the idiot should be busted to second man. They stared at me and then made a phone call to my former relief who was considered a company hotshot. 

He agreed with me and told them that when we broke the boat out we had discussed it and in no circumstances would we go over 95% capacity.

They didn't bust my new relief but he got a monumental ass blistering and was told never to load more than 95% of capacity.

Early on I had heard a story from a shipmate that had been ordered to stuff his boat with as much jet fuel as he could cram on. They loaded during a July cold snap and got delayed en route as a heat wave came rolling in.

The cargo expanded and fortunately they were paying attention. As the cargo expanded they called the office of their company (he was working for someone else at the time and they had to get someone to come alongside and pump off some of their cargo lest it go over the top of the tank domes and onto deck and then over the side.  

This is a case of learning from someone else's problems and how they solved it.

My advice is to always listen to old salts that have an interesting story to tell. You can learn something and not make the same mistakes they did.

 

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I visited my parents a few days ago

and found fresh flowers on the graves.

I have a feeling I know who put them there.

Thank you.

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You can't just dish it out. You have to be able to take it gracefully sometimes

Like the time the little girl I used to tease when she was little grew up.

I think she was a high school senior or maybe a fresh graduate when she overheard me telling my wife I was going to the mall to get something. 

She ran inside and changed he clothes into tight jeans and a halter top and unknown to me headed to the mall where she figured I'd be passing by. 

I guess she saw me and ghosted behind me because when I was passing a couple of older women she came up to me out of nowhere holding a set of car keys, said "How sweet of you! A new Corvette! How could you!" and planted a kiss on me.

Blindsided, I managed to smile and reply "You're worth it, Sweetie." much to the chagrin of a couple of a chubby middle aged women who gave me dirty looks.

When in doubt, charge down the guns.

Still, payback's a bitch and if ya wanna dish it out ya gotta be able to take it.

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My Samsung Galaxy A 12 has been pretty good for the past almost 2 years.

I paid $126 for it at Wallyworld and it does more than I ask for and the battery is incredible. It lasts for days on end without recharging.

Yeah, it's Android but so what? It does the job and does it well. Most likely I'll get a couple more years out of it which is about right in my opinion. 

Electronics are pretty inexpensive and unless you really need certain features there is no real reason to cough up $1500 for a smart phone in this day and age. At least that's the way I see it.

OTOH, mine has a few basic apps I use occasionally, Uber and Lyft. I also use Zedge for ringtones as default is Tarzan's yell and I label some regulars with different ringtones so I know who it is. I also have my CPAP app so I can check that but generally check it on my laptop although I seldom do, preferring to use my laptop.

While we're on the subject of ringtones, when my phone goes off most women look confused and most men start looking around to see which direction the elephants are coming from.

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I guess the family consensus is that my nephew sucked at being a chick

None of us can understand the feelings my nephew went through and none of us truly  understand it but the consensus seems to be that we're glad he TG'd because he went from being a whiny, selfish pain in the ass chick to a pretty damned good guy to hang out with.

He has a decent place to live and a job that he really likes where he works with animals. I sure can't slight him for that as by working with animals he avoids dealing with a lot of people. When you make a dog stop hurting the dog is grateful. They lick your hand in gratitude. When you do that to a person they very well might sue you. ("There's a scar where the thorn you removed was!")

As far as the pronoun bull$hit goes, he simply changed his name and that's what he introduces himself as. 

I think a lot of the positive is that he's now comfortable with himself and we're all willing to leave it at that. Another nephew opined that it's probably the first time he's been comfortable in his own skin.

I'm more than willing to leave it at that.

Before you jump in here, back during the Civil War the physical to join the Union Army was pretty much a quick look at one's teeth to see if they were capable of eating Army chow , if that. 

As a result, conservative estimates are that between 400 and 750  woman served as men in the Union Army as men. I also dug around and found out one of them died at the Old Soldier's Home. (It also mentioned that the staff kept her secret)

I'm sure a number of women served during the Revolution as men. 

Several served as women in various circumstances. Molly Pitcher manned a gun after her husband was killed but these were woman serving openly as female volunteers. FWIW One such woman got a $50/year pension from the Commonwealth of PA years later for her CW service.

I have not dug into how many women served in the Revolution as men. I'll bet there were at least a few.

I discovered the TG issue in Kodiak during the early to mid 80s and when it came up a few years ago I had a 'so what' attitude toward it that surprised a lot of people.

In fact now that I mention it Larry Flynt pictured a transgender in Hustler magazine back around 1976. IIRC someone showed me the picture and I glanced at it and to his total horror I casually shrugged and said, "I'd hit it." just to see the horrorfied look on his face. Frankly I don't even remember the picture as I merely glanced at it.

As usual, my attitude was (and is) that it's not my business and probably better left for the individual to deal with.

Some time back early on during the gay marriage ballyhoo I was against gay marriage. That morphed when someone pointed out that everyone has a right to have someone to pass their estate onto without greedy  government interference. That knocked me for a loop and even got me to rethink marriage.

Wanna get married? Go find a preacher that's willing to perform the ceremony. What the government should provide are civil unions to any couple thats want one.

I say 'any couple' because I can think of a lot of non traditional siuations out there where a civil union could be useful.

I had a great aunt that was an old maid schoolteacher. She had a brother that never married and they shared a duplex for most of their adult lives. When he passed she complained about all the paperwork and bull$hit that she had to go through to settle his estate.

That would have been a good reason for a civil union because it would have made things a lot easier. Like I said earlier, everyone should have someone to pass their stuff onto without government intervention.

As a sidebar here, It seems that the huge majority of the LGBTQ people I run into are simply people that want to just be left alone to live their lives privately. I am slowly beginning to think that the so-called LGBTQ leadership that is always stirring up $hit may very well be heterosexuals that are stirring up $hit for their personal agendas.

I'm also beginning to believe that that a lot of so-called black leadership is being manipulated by the usual gang of rich white men to keep us fighting. Although I admit I'm seldom in cities, I have yet to run into a black that has treated me anything less than civil with maybe one exception in Philly (go figure) and a couple of older nearby blacks apologized for his rudeness.

This morning at oh-dark thirty when I made a convenience store run for an early breakfast the young black male behind the counter greeted me warmly. 

Just like I have never heard of very many Native Americans wanting to make sports teams change their names. One Indian said, "That's just a bunch of white liberal bull$hit. IDGAF, myself."

Another Indian said to me he found it flattering that they named the team after his ethnicity. "People want strong, powerful names for their teams and if they think an Indian name represents that, I'm flattered."

I think most of the hate and discontentment is caused by fat guys in $10,000 suits with big cigars that are playing an angle because in a day to day basis we generally all seem to get along.

Someone's making money on all this grief and discontment and it ain't the little guy like me.

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

No, I ain't drinking Bud Light. It's not because I don't like LGBTQs or something along that line. I ain't drinking it because I'm sick and tired of having it thrown in my face all the time.

I was driving down an Interstate in MA recently and saw a state owned traffic sign that said something about Pride Month. I didn't pay attention to it but I was rather annoyed because the damned government was sticking their nose into a social issue where they had no business doing so.

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My niece plays 'Over 30' slow pitch softball

which she kinda got roped into but found out she really enjoys.

I watched her play and it's a really light hearted sort ot thing, just a bunch of over 30s people getting out for a little exercise. 

Anyway what was a damned difficult thing to do while sitting next to her 8 year old son was for me not to coach him and turn him into the little kid equivelent of a Little League Dad that gets pissed off and argues with the umpire.

There would have been nothing funnier than an 8 year old charging out and squaring off with the umpire and shouting "My mom wuz robbed!" and arguing about the call.

Then again I always think full circle.

Actually the umpire was a pretty good guy and he probably would have had a hard time keeping a straight face.

In fact he was the kind of guy that probably would have looked in the dugout and said, "Good one! Which one of you clowns put him up to it!"

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Piccolo on Marriage

which I consider a religious issue that the government should honor but should be left to the clergy. Wanna get married? Find a preacher that is willing to perform the ceremony. If the preacher isn't willing, Tango Sierra. Either find one that will or go without. Not my problem.

The government should provide civil unions to any two homo sapiens that want to be united regardless of sex, race, creed, color, national origin or whatever. (Let's keep it within the species)

Quite some time back I didn't like the idea of gay marriage (or gay civil unions) until someone pointed out to me that everyone has a right to pass their estate, goods and garbage onto someone without government interference. The person that pointed out to me was spot on.

 

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Although I am currently a white male I am considering changing that.

And why not?

Actually I am too old and will likely stay the way I am but I seriously think that if I were younger I'd change my identity. I'd move to Puerto Rico for a year and a day, register to vote there and come back as a Puerto Rican and list myself as Hispanic.

WTF, why not?

I could get into better schools and play the Affirmative Action game and have life easier.

There is this South African couple that immigrated here and their kids are (rightfully) calling themselves Afro American and doing rather well. The oldest is getting a couple scholarships and when they saw what color he was they tried (unsuccessfully) to rescind them.

Actually I see where some Asian youngster is challenging the system because he's been refused entry into a number of colleges in spite of having grades above their minumum requirements. As it stands now, colleges are discriminating against Asians for some reason.

I got a bright idea. Let's set college entry standards strictly by grades and SATs regardless of race, color, creed, whatever and see wha happens.

For one thing society will get stronger.

For another thing talented black doctors will not have people question their compentency as is now sometimes the case.

An RN I know has had blacks request a white doctor and the unspoken reason for that is they think that the black doctor graduated from his various schools because of Affirmative Action and therefore isn't as competent...even though in the case the RN told me about, the guy is top shelf.

I get tired of having people tell me that blacks are not as competent as whites or Asians. I say pull out the stops, float the system and let water seek it's own level and let's see what happens.

I know what will happen. The cream (no matter what collor it is) will float to the top and we'll gain as a society.

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Someone asked me my opinion on reparations.

so here's my take on it.

A one time payout of $25,000 and a one way ticket to the country of your choice. I think I read where Ghana has some kind of law of the return so that might work.

However, you can not return to the States for any reason whatsoever UNLESS you pay it all back. Every single penny of it, ticket and processing costs included. That's not as easy as it sounds.

If caught stateside you will be returned to where you came from by being handed a parachute and dropped back into the country you opted for. The second time you don't get a parachute. You just get dropped off.

Anybody that signs up for that deal is just plain stupid and that's the beautiful part about it. It gets rid of stupid people and passes them off to someplace else.

Hell, even at $50,000 it's one hell of a good deal to the taxpayer because stupid people (of any color) cost us a lot more than $50,000 in the course of their lifetimes. Stupid people drag us all down.

330,00 Union soldiers died and 275,000 were torn up during the Civil War. How about THEIR families getting something for what they lost. As slaves you were not being killed or really mistreated or abused.

While we're at it, let's look at the business of what a slave in the South really was and how they were treated. 

Buying a slave was not cheap. They were expensive and required food, clothing and shelter to be kept in good condition. The concept of hurting or injuring a slave made no sense at all because it kept them from doing what they were purchased to do which is work.

An injured slave can not work as well as a healthy slave, if at all so it made it wise to keep them healthy. You also have to remember that none of the 'miracle drugs' appeared until well into the 20th century and that whipping someone often led to crippling serious infection and/or even death.

A farmer doesn't beat up his tractor and it made sense a plantation owner wouldn't beat up his slaves.

As a general rule slaves were treated fairly well so long as they performed their job. 

Actually by the time the Civil War rolled around slavery was a dying institution. We were on the verge of an industrial revolution of sorts and the use of machinery to replace human labor was beginning to take hold. The cotton gin was starting to get popular use around 1800.

Left the way things were before the Civill War, slavery would not have reached the 20th century. 

In fact under many circumstances slaves had it a lot easier than poor whites did. There were virtually guaranteed food, clothing and shelter.  Free whites were not guaranteed anything.

Actually African blacks were on their own in Africa to feed and clothe themselves. An awful lot of them probably were better off than slave were in the States.

Reparations for what?

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I have a friend who is a lobsterman and has stayed single

which to me makes sense as it involves a man owning a boat and making a living with it.

Life is a whole lot easier when something goes wrong with the boat that costs money. "The boat this, the boat that. Now I have to drive a 3 year old car for another year!"

Still, I did a quick search on divorce rates and commercial fisherman have some of the lowest divorce rates out there. I was actually surprised to find this.

My guess is that the reason for this is that fishermen tend not to get involved with Karens that can't see the forest for the trees and marry women that understand the world a little better.

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Ran a little errand today

Over 600 miles in 10 hours flat. Well over a 60 mph average which is damned fast.

A big part of the reason is one very short stop for gas. I brought my lunch etc and ate on the road.

Not bad at all.

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I might be in and out for the next week or 10 days as

I will be somewhat off the grid.

Just fair warning.

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It's 0745 and the day is already shot.

Done. Over with. The entire rhythm has been knocked out of the day and I am officially saying 'Screw it. Start over.'

And I am. Screw this. I'm just going to chug a beer and go back to bed and when I wake up at about 10 I will start over.

Later.

I skipped the beer and went back to bed. It's now a little after ten and although I am a little disgusted I'll at least get some work done.

I really hate it when someone throws something at me and upsets the apple cart because everything gets screwed up and a lot of unnecessary work takes place.

It's always something stupid and petty that pops up and has to be dealt with. You may be repairing the roof and someone has an emergency situation like a burned out light bulb in the basement to deal with. 

While it only generally takes a few minutes to tend to, it stalls the rhythm of the roof project and makes you feel like you are starting over when you get back to it. IF you get back to it because things like that compound. Either you break the glass from the base and have to get a screwdriver and needle nosed pliers and/or the "While you're here, how about if you..."s. set in and you don't get back to the roof for hours. An hour long job can wind up taking all day if you're lucky enough to finish it that day.

Actually I should not complain too much about that. I do have my wife trained never to say or do anything when I am running a machine like a table saw or chop box until I am done and the blade has stopped spinning.

I had a new port engineer once interrupt me while I was making a long precise cut with a skilsaw. I went off on him like an M-80. 

He tried, with a remarkable lack of success, to defend himself with his position and found out he wasn't getting anywhere. He said, "I used to be a Marine." like it was going to make me kiss his ass.

I shot back, "not a very good one otherwise you'd still be in the Corps and be a Gunny or First Sergeant by now. What'dja get out as? A lance corporal?"

He sure didn't expect that one.

Then he handed me a list of stuff he wanted done immediately. I looked at the list and told him I'd tape it to the bottom of the list of things I already had to do and maybe-just maybe- if he was lucky-- the relief crew would get to it in about 3 or 4 weeks.

Needless to say I got a call from my vessel supervisor and when I said he interrupted me while I was making a long skilsaw rip he said, "Oh, he did, did he?"

I knew I'd never hear about it again and I didn't. I served my tour with no further visits and when I came back after my shore time I heard he was gone. No details.

One of my work habits I brought ashore with me is to do one thing at a time and do it well...especially when cargo is flowing.

One time a tug came alongside during a transfer and I tried to wave him off. Instead he had the deckhand catch his lines because I refused to. He announced he was there to give me fuel and he didn't have all day to wait while I loaded cargo. 

I told him he wasn't supposed to come alongside but he said he was in a hurry and it was OK.

Quick fix. I shut down the cargo operation, closed the valves, took fuel and after the fueling was over, rechecked everything and resumed operations. It took close to 3 hours that I was shut down from cargo operations.

Later the customer wanted to know why there was a delay and called the office who called me. I told them to settle it with the tugboat. They had come along and acted like they got orders from them to shut down.

When they asked me why I couldn't do it while I was transferring I told them I didn't make the rules and to settle it with my port captain. He briefly called me and told me that the next time I should call him and that I had done the right thing by shutting down the transfer.

As for the tug skipper? 

He never came alongside during a transfer again. 

I don't 'multi task'. Period. 

  

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Back in the day when I was in uniform

the subject of the Medal of Honor came up. There was a captain there, I believe he was a mustang and he had 'taken his pack off'. He had been an NCO before and was very possibly going to be one when he retired, so why not? He was a wartime officer that figured he was  probably going to be reverted back to his previous enlisted rank.

A lot of people fail to realize it, but the Medal is awarded for a specific action. 

We discussed the number of people that were awarded it and did not do well in life afterwards. Airman 'Snuffy' Smith came up and we laughed like hell. Smith had been an unlikely awardee. He was a foul-up before he was awarded it and was a foul-up afterwards and the only MOH awardee I know of to get busted from staff sergeant to private afterwards.

There had been a picture of Smith in the local paper being led to the military induction center in handcuffs as he had been offered either a jail term or induction into the service.

Awardee Gregory 'Pappy' Boyington was once quoted as saying,"Show me a hero and I'll show you a bum."

One Vietnam War  awardee had been shot and killed while robbing a store a few years back. Another mentioned awardee had problems later on also.

I was the only one there that wasn't a career soldier so I mostly kept my mouth shut and listened. 

The captain opined that if he for some reason became a recipient he would resign immediately...before it was awarded and then find a place to hide. "I wouldn't want that millstone hung around my neck," he said. 

"Think of the expectations some poor bastard would have to try to live up to," said a platoon sergeant. "His life isn't his own anymore."

Another pointed out that an awardee had been asked about it by a general officer and had replied, "Sir, I wish people would stop asking me and reminding me about the worst day of my life."

A couple of the senior NCOs said they'd hang in there the next couple years and retire the instant they were eligible and vanish as best they could.

It was pointed out that the medal would probably prop up a sagging career and give someone another stripe to escape the up or out policy so he could retire.

The captain said that "There ought to be some kind of pension to go along with it (there is now, about $1600/month but I don't believe there was at the time) to let the poor bastard live with a little dignity and not disgrace the medal instead of getting shot and dying in an alley." It was a reference to Dwight Johnson, an awardee who died while robbing a store.

At the time IIRC I was a fresh PFC when I heard the conversation and wondered why they thought that way. Later I understood.

Things like the Medal make one's life change and not necessarily for the better.

Many years later my mother-in-law read of the passing of a WW2 MOH awardee in the local paper. He'd had a screwed up life of sorts and mused to me, "I wonder why he did so well in the army but was such a mess afterwards?"

I remembered the conversation from back in the day and thought to myself that I couldn't explain it to her in a way she would understand.

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Where's my gold watch?

I've been retired for over six months and my gold watch hasn't arrived yet.

WTF is going on?

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One of the things I remember about the supply room in an army outfit I was in was the wall clock.

Some creative soul had taken it apart and put a Mickey Mouse on the face and made little arms for the hands. The minute hand held a needle and every hour and 5 minutes Mickey would shoot up.

One day the Divarty CO saw it and started to blow a fuse.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread and I looked at him and said, "Sir, the bastards have taken away our mess hall and replaced it with a sissified 'dining facility' and made my take the Betty Grable pinup out of my locker. It's the little things that make the army fun and they're going away rapidly."

It stopped him cold.

"You know, you are absolutely right," he replied, thoughtfully. "Leave it. In fact if anyone tells you to take it down tell them to see me."

Then he looked at me. "You had a BETTY GRABLE pinup in your locker? The WW2 pinup?"

"It's a family heirloom, Sir," I replied. He laughed like hell.

Then he took a closer look at the clock. "Whoever made that sure has a lot of talent," he said and walked off.

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Ahh, yes. Another post.

in the never ending battle for truth, justice and the American way.

One of the things I remember from work is the time I swapped a couple favors in return for someone going over my laptop.  The guy that went over it did it in his spare time and sent it back to me via the company's supply run from headquarters.

It had to pass through the hands of one nosy supervisor that refused to give it to me stating that it was 'valuable company property' which it wasn't. It was mine.

Quick fix. "You want me to make a phone call or three?" I asked.

He was a fairly new supervisor and realized I had been there for about 20 years.

"No," he said glibly and handed me my laptop.

To his credit he probably realized like most everywhere else that there was a back channel economy of little favors here and there. Most old timers traded little favors here and there from time to time.

What had I done to get him to upgrade my laptop?

I had called someone else I knew that owed me a couple of favors and asked him to look at his car and if possible fix it. (quick fix.)

What had I done for the mechanic that looked at his car? 

Simple. He was overloaded and I got someone else I knew to repair something on board that he was supposed to fix.

What had I done for the guy who fixed my vessel?

His boat had Old School booms and as an Old School guy I rerigged them.

One of the things I kinda miss about work was the wheeling and dealing of small favors here and there. 

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And so here we are and it's another day.

I have a new grill and decided to try it out on breakfast.

Barbecued Spam and a couple of eggs ain't bad. 

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Now someone asked me if I had a lemonade stand as a kid.

"Sure did," I replied. I had the Johnny Scofflaw speakeasy lemonade stand kit like on the lower right of the enclosed advertisement.

I'm gonna let that one soak a while and see what happens.

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Oh boy!!! Poison ivy!

I just discovered a patch and I have no idea of what to do.

There is one school of thought that says kill it off immediately.

The other school of thought says transplant it into the thistle patch that I was going to kill off.

What a quandry!

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Yes. Life of crime. You want me to spell it out?

Sorry. After I wrote the title I just remembered I bought a new pillow the other day and had to grab the scissors and cut the little tag off of it because I am a criminal and that's what criminals do. There isn't a mattress or a pillow in the house that has one of those obnoxious little tags on them. Bite me. Put me in jail.

There are a number of crimes out there I would be proud to be arrested for. Just because something is illegal doesn't make it wrong and just because something is legal doesn't make it right. 

 

“I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.”

― Robert A. Heinlein

 An awful lot of people don't seem to get it. The number of suburbanites that would have ratted out Anne Frank seems to be growing in leaps and bounds.

I don't really pay much attention to speed limit signs with the exception of those flashing school zone signs. In a way they make sense to me and I obey them. Still, other than that I ignore a lot of signage. 

I don't bother with them because I look at my surroundings. I cruise through residential neighborhoods slowly to avoid an accident. Little kids can dart out onto the street in a nanosecond (adults can sometimes be scarier. Some of them don't think the laws of physics apply to them) so I try and be aware and keep my speed down.

The instant I see a ball of any sort come even close to the street it's an instant stop because there's usually a kid coming after it.

Once years ago when I was a lot faster I stopped, bailed out, grabbed the ball and fired it to the catcher who tagged a runner out. I'm pretty proud of that one.

One time several years ago I was stopped on the turnpike for driving about 25 or 30 in the breakdown lane. It was during a major ice storm and the trooper asked me why I was going so slow.

"Because I'm not stupid like most everyone else,"I shot back. "In case you have not noticed, we're in the middle of an ice storm."

"I wish more people thought like you," he said as someone roared past us at the posted speed limit of about 70.

I looked at the cop and said, "I got $20 (illegal gambling)that says that clown winds up in the ditch. You know, you could ticket me for driving below the posted minimum. Under the circumstances I'd be proud to take the ticket."

"I can't blame you for being proud of that ticket which I am not going to write and I'm not touching that bet with a ten foot pole!" replied the cop with a grin. "Stay safe!" and he left. I resumed my slow pilgrimage home.

I saw numerous cars in the ditch that night. The cop not wanting to take the bet didn't surprise me even a little bit. It took me hours but I got home intact.

The other day I chose convenience over convention and walked in the out door at Lowe's and someone actually pointed out that I was going in the out door. "It's OK," I replied. "I'm in with the out crowd."

He didn't know what to say in the presence of such a desperate criminal and walked away quickly. 

I suppose you are wondering who pissed in my corn flakes this morning and it was a comment on Nextdoor wondering what I meant by criminal activity over a little kid's lemonade stand.

Over the years I've done a lot of business with many youthful criminals. 

I'm retired now and mow my own lawn but when I was at sea I would knowingly and willfully hire an unlicensed youthful tax evader to keep the yard trimmed up while I was away. By doing so I was willingly patronizing a criminal enterprise and contributing to the delinquincy of a minor. So arrest me. I'd be PROUD to take the hit.

The same goes for lemonade stands which I religiously patronize.

The laundry list of crimes committed there is pretty long in some places. Let's see. No business license, no Board of Health inspection, child labor laws, tax evasion for starters and God only knows what else they can dig up. 

Patronizing one is a pretty serious crime, too. Contributing to the delinquincy of a minor, knowingly patronizing a criminal enterprise and probably a dozen more crimes are commited by every customer.

Bite me. I'd be PROUD to go to jail for that one.

God only knows what would happen to me if anyone found out I hired a high school kid from the local Vo-Tech to put on a muffler for me a while back. He did a first class job as to be expected.

Of course the criminal justice system actually sees it for what it is. It's an ambitious kid mowing a lawn for a few bucks or a kid's lemonade stand making a few nickels and dimes. It is what it is.

Still, it amazes me that there are people that want to make criminals out of thin air. I guess these are the very same people that would have ratted out Anne Frank to the Gestapo.

"Officer! Oficer! Jews live there! There's a secret room in that building!" I can picture it now.

I got news for those that think they are getting brownie points with the powers that be for being a snitch. You get no respect from the powers that be. Even Joseph Stalin said he had no respect for them because he wondered about the character of someone that would rat out their friends and neighbors. Of course he cheerfully accepted the information they provided...

One political officer got so sick and tired of a snitch ratting everyone out that he decided the easiest thing to do was to ship her off to the Gulag. Surprise! Adios! Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

Needless to say, if you witness a legitimate crime of some sort it is your duty to report it. 

Some dopey kid hanging outside a convenience store asking someone to buy beer for him isn't a real crime. It's more of a rite of passage. I've done it as a kid and also quite recently as my license didn't scan and the software refused the sale. I wanted a beer and remembered how the game was played so I went outside at the ripe old age of 71 and started asking people to grab me a 24 ounce can of Coors.

I was astonished at the number of middle aged people that got upset so I lowered my sights and aimed at a younger crowd. I was aiming at people in their early 20s. I soon found a champion that handed me my beer and he confessed he was still 19 and wanted to try out the bogus ID he had bought on line for $20.

God bless the little criminal! I laughed myself silly.

It is a strange world when a 71 year old man has to have his beer bought for him by a teenager with a fake ID. It's sad how stupid the world has gotten.

As for buying beer for minors? I've done it a couple of times for GIs returning from a deployment. When you ask a kid to grab a gun and ship out overseas he loses his minority status in my opinion.

Sidebar. One mistake Reagan did was to raise the on post drinking age to 21. It used to be all GIs could drink in the EM club regardless of age. It actually served a purpose. The EM club was a controlled, safe atmosphere and the Sp/4s and junior NCOs could keep an eye on the privates and insure their safety. 

Generally speaking, by the time a GI was discharged he had a pretty good idea of how much was enough and how much was too much.

Now that it is illegal (more stupid from high places) it still takes place but not in a safe enviornment. Now they drive off post instead of walk to an EM club or slop chute.

There's actually a cop I used to routinely confess my 'crimes' to every so often and he'd laugh like hell. He told me he had a kid do some yardwork a while ago which I teased him about contributing to the delinquincy of a minor.

He knew I was venting at stupidity and once he asked me what kind of nefarious activity I was up to now. IIRC I told him I ran with scissors earlier that day.

Every once in a while the cops belt one out of the park. A police chief once posted a Facebook picture of one of his officers kneeling behind his car aiming some kind of shoulder fired rocket launcher at the street as if he was waiting for someone to pass by. I think he said "We're going to start enforcing the speed limit on Elm Street." or something along these lines. It was actually a head's up and about 90% of the comments came from an amused town populace. 

Of course there were the obligatory 10% idiots that posted the usual assortment of wide eyed comments. What? What? You can't shoot at cars with a bazooka!" It was hilarious.

Apparently the 10%ers don't know how to take a head's up from a police chief with a pretty good sense of humor.

Still, the all time record (that I have heard about) of a police sense of humor still goes to the county sheriff that responded to constant complaints by one nasty old woman over a lemonade stand staged a 40 car raid on it and carted the little kid away in handcuffs.

Later when asked about how much overtime was paid out, he replied that all of the officers that were not on duty were off duty volunteers and it didn't cost the taxpayers a dime.

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