Back at it again but moderately.

I have been experimenting for months trying to get my CPAP numbers down and now have the recipe down pat.

Half an hour before turn in time it's a couple of melatonin gummies and 1.5 ounces of bourbon. 

My events numbers drop to practically nothing and I wake up OK and don't feel the need for an after lunch nap anymore.

I think I'll run with that for a while.

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One of the simplest things on the planet

is the automotive dipstick.

You pull it out, wipe it off, reinsert it, pull it out again and see what the oil level is.

A dipstick is inexpensive, has no moving parts, is accurate, simple to operate and has been around since practically Day One in one form or another.

Not to worry!

Someday I bet that someone will come up with some kind of sensor that can give a driver the oil level to the nearest cubic centimeter and put a gauge on one's dashboard using 257 moving parts, electricity, three chips and only add another $2500 to the cost of the vehicle. 

Later on the automakers will decide that all that hoople about their NEW and IMPROVED oil level sensing device could be replaced with a simple dipstick to increase profits.

The person that gets the idea to replace the NEW and IMPROVED oil level sensor with a dipstick will be heralded as a genius and receive various accolades.

However the engineer that gets the credit will spend the rest of his life hiding the fact that it was not his idea because he got the idea from a 12 year old child with Down's.

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I went looking for America. I found it.

When the movie Easy Rider came out in 1969 the advertising said, "A young man went looking for America and he couldn't find it anywhere."

I managed to find it in under two hours. To my great relief it's still there.

Directions, Head north on US 19 and keep going for a few miles and start scouting the small PA routes. 

I was up and coffee-d up by a little after 0800 and sat down and thought it over and decided to see if I could find America. Preparations were fairly easy and I thought over the proper equipment. I suppose if I was younger a motorcycle would be perfect, say a Royal Enfield 500cc Bullet with a sidecar.

But I am now an old man so a different vehicle was in order, enter the 1991 Mazda Miata. It was perfect. Not only that, I cut a magnificent swashbuckling figure in it with a pair of aviation sunglasses and a boonie hat. 

Needless to say, when I get out of it I go back to being a dumpy old man again. Oh, well. Can't win 'em all.

Anyway, I spent the day driving through rural PA, booming and zooming through the two lane blacktop and some dirt roads looking for Americans. I was not only looking for the sights, sounds and aromas of America. I was looking for the people.

I was looking for the type of people that the suburban Karens fawn all over to their faces and then tell cruel jokes about them behind their back. I was looking for the people that feed us and the people that support them and I found them in spades every time I stopped at a likely looking spot. 

I pulled into a country hardware store and when I entered it was bright, airy, exceptionally clean and sterile looking as seen on TV. I was thinking of not bothering and turning around until my nose spelled an aroma of far away and long ago. The place smelled like a hardware store! It had the wonderful aroma of axe handles, baling twine and whatever else made hardware stores smell so good back in the day. 

I struck up a conversation with a fairly well dressed man that was purchasing a couple of doe tags and found he was a country lawyer. I told him of my quest to find America and he lit up with a smile and told me I had come to the right place. "I know what you are doing and why. I wish more people would discover where they get their food," he said.

Rural America has its problems, too and the attorney mentioned defending a meth head that he took in exchange for a motorcycle that he resold to pay his fee. That's also part of America.

I chatted with another hardware store customer, a farmer with a side hustle. He said the split between jobs was just about right. He had a couple of corn fields and raised a few cows. He offered me a pretty good deal on a half cow which is too much for my small freezer. I turned his offer down because of that.

Off to the next adventure. On the way out the door I was greeted warmly by a large black woman and her husband that were going inside. She had a wonderful smile.

Off the side of a side road I spotted a small engine repair shop and saw it too late. The place next door was a harness maker of some sort. I pulled in and nobody appeared to be home so I went back entered the small engine repair shop and was stunned to find it was Amish owned and run. It had electricity, formerly unknown the the Amish until I realized that the reason the Amish not using electricity had something to do with a wire (power line) attaching their home to whatever. The phone he answered was cellular and hence no wires. 

I had heard that the Amish were now using solar power so I asked the owner. He had three other Dutchmen on his payroll and one of them explained to me that entire system was 12 volt LED lighting with solar and an occasional generator backup. When needed they'd charge the battery with a Honda 2200. 

I also found out the harness maker was Amish but was probably helping his son and was not home. His customer base was Amish as they don't drive and use horses.

Later I discovered that not all Amish use electricity but that comes later. 

All along the way I was treated to the wonderful aromas of produce and livestock. I thought to myself what Karen would do if she moved next door. Probably screech about her rights and demand the farmer shut down operations. The outrage would be epic when the sheriff told her to get used to it or move.

"You actually allow people to live like that?!!"

I was off and running and a coffee stop to the local convenience store I met a young country girl that had pierced ears, natural hair, a pretty smile and a face that didn't look like she had fallen into a tackle box. No weird hardware had been installed.

She took my coffee money, smiled and thanked me and I was on my way. I didn't gas up there because I wanted to visit another convenience store.

A run like this can really only be made running solo because two people tend to become a unit. If my wife or anyone else wanted to come with me the trip would have been a bust because a single person reaching out poses little or no threat. Besides the other person generally demands the attention one wants to give to the people they encounter. Besides when I'm alone I can act up a bit.

I had to gas up. It's late in the Miata season so I didn't want to stuff the tank because I like to store it with a half tank of stabilized fuel and freshen it in the spring. 

A few more miles down the road and I went into another convenience store manned by an older woman. While it looked a little old, it was pretty well cleaned and maintained. I found my way back to Rte 19 and headed south again. En route I passed a house with an older Peterbilt rig in the yard. Probably one of the last of the owner/operators. They used to be relatively common back in the day but I guess the corporations can buy in bulk etc. so that business appears to be dying off.

Time was passing and I headed back down US 19 because it was the second fastest way home. I could have hit the Interstate many times but chose not to. I 79 parallels US 19 through Pennsylvania.

On the way south I saw a familiar road off to the right. The Dutchman that roofed my house back about 2011 lived there. Hard right rudder. Did he still live there? Was he still alive? Let's find out!

I pulled into a familiar yard and there he was. It was a joy to meet and old friend even though it took him a while to figure out who I was. I hadn't seen him in well over a decade and that was very shortly after the loss of one of his sons that had been electrocuted via an aluminum ladder hitting a hot wire.

There he was, still busy. Now he makes boat covers with First Class craftsmanship. He's still amazing.

When I asked him if he had 'gone solar' he explained that my very recent experience had been from a different Amish community. The communities are different and have different rules. He explained that his community was strictly old school and he preferred it that way. His home was strictly non electric.

I hadn't seen him in a little over a decade, shortly after the loss of his son in '13. We talked about life, family, and the future and I asked him what the materiel was that he used to build the new barn.

He stunned me when he smiled and said, "Off spec garage doors. I bought an entire truckload." I was amazed. 

They're fairly solid and very well insulated and interlock well. Typical country ingenuity.

We parted friends and I was soon back on Rte19 and homeward bound.  It was getting a little late. I headed south at a somewhat slow clip and pulled over several times to let others pass me. 

For the entire day I carefully watched my six and pulled over numerous times. While life in the rural areas is somewhat slower, that didn't give me the right to slow things up. The country is based on logistics and some farmer needs a quick trip to the store doesn't mean he wants to get stuck behind someone dawdling along taking a Sunday drive two days early. 

When I got to Zelienople I decided to cheat a bit so I cut over to I-79 and zipped on home.

It had been a wonderful, glorious day.

I had been planning a nice road trip to the Boston area and it's about a 10-11 hour drive. I was planning on taking about 3 days to make the trip just cruising through rural areas and meeting the people.

Actually I had planned on a rough 3 days, loading the pickup with a case of MREs, a sleeping bag and cooler and calling it good. The wife expressed concerns so I opted for a couple of day trips.

I think maybe next time I'll head east or maybe south into WV.

I'll keep you posted.

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Sarcasm is now in AT LEAST its 5th generation in the family.

I remember it was in early July when I went out of my way to do a real bang up job of mowing the lawn and weeding. The yard really looked like a million bucks. I did it in the late afternoon.

The next morning I woke up and saw a beer can on the lawn and I laughed like hell because it reminded me of my father.

The beer can was sort of a fluke because this is not a trashy perimeter. About all one sees on the streets is a rare cigarette butt.

One time I drove my father to a package store to pick up a six pack and on the way home I asked him if he was going to pop one and he said he'd wait until we got home.

Then out of the clear blue he said, "Don't throw empties in the ditch. Always throw them out on the nicest well manicured lawn you can find so someone will pick them up and put them in the trash."

Instead of being annoyed as I went out and picked it up and put it in the recycling bin I looked on the brighter side and took it as a compliment to my fine mowing job.

Actually I was grateful because it reminded me on an evening with the Old Man.

Sometime soon I'll tell you guys the rest of the story about how he led by example.

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I had a chat with a club treasurer and I learned a few things.

I'm not going to discuss club business here because that was a small part of our discussion. Once he clarified his reasoning for what we should do the discussion switched to personal finances.

Seems according to him, the wife and I were right in paying off the house and cars off early.

Of course, the experts say putting the money in CDs and drawing interest is often the way to go and on paper it is. We both agreed that getting out of debt was better for our sleep.

In 2004 we became debt free and have stayed that way ever since. The only debt I carry is credit card debt that gets paid off at the end of the month. I think that the only interest I have paid on my credit card since 1990 was about six bucks because of a cash withdrawal glitch several decades ago.

While my home is certainly not a McMansion, it's a decent place to live.

In the beginning we were a bit 'house poor' but that only lasted a couple of years because I worked to get ahead and increase my income. 

What's interesting to note is that almost a year ago I started keeping copious written records of expenditures on paper. Prior to that I simply ball parked everything in my head. It was simply amazing at how close I had been doing things in my head.

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Time flew!

Wow!

Where the hell did August go?

I am already seeing the neighbor's red maple turn. Amazing!

I have to pay more attention to the deer and look for white in their coat to see if we're going to get clobbered or not.

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Ever see ONE shoe in the breakdown lane?

No other clothing, no other trash. Just one single shoe.

When you spotted it you'd generally wonder where the other shoe was and stay on the alert to find it. Once in a blue moon you'd find another one about 75 miles later but it didn't match the first one.

That is actually a thing that many of the states do as part of a safety program. Those shoes are put there intentionally because a government study showed that it catches the attention of drivers and subconsciously keeps them awake looking for the shoe.

I had the PENDOT contract to put those shoes there as a contractor for years, driving across the state and back insuring that there was a shoe in the breakdown lane at certain designated areas.

It was a pretty good gig until Donald Trump cancelled the grant that provided PENDOT with the money for the program. 

This is what I told someone a while ago just to give the idiot one more thing to hate Trump for.

I have not used that story in 25 years or maybe more. It came out of my head one night when I was out having a beer with a now retired Marine I know. Some woman he knew came by (the Gunny said she was an airhead) and when he introduced us she asked me what I did for a living and that is what I pulled out of my ass.

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Sitting here trying to work a little DX.

Slovenia is strong and I'm battling a pileup for a Faroe Island station on 20 meters.

Later on the Tuesday night net comes up at 0001Z 

It's probably the midnight Wednesday station but it's at 2000 Eastern so close enough.

=================================

Someone bragged about their kid getting into Penn State. 

I told them my grandson was in the State pen.

ZING! Over his head.

That's too bad because if he had asked me what he did I would have told him he murdered a scammer that tried to cheat his grandfather.

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I'm sorry but sometimes thing are just plain funny.

Some kid was making fun of a classmate going through chemo therapy because all of his hair had fallen out.

When Dear Old Dad heard about his son's behavior he took the little whelp straight to the barbershop and had the barber shave his young son's head. "Now YOU can look like him!"

The video was priceless as the screeching of the kid was epic. It was really funny. Sometimes watching someone learn a lesson can be pretty entertaining. No real harm was done and I'm sure the kid thought twice about bullying anyone again.

Sometimes I look back on my own childhood and think of a few things that happened tome growing up. 

I was not the bullying type so that was not an issue but I certainly had my moments. 

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A while ago a female Army nurse graduated from Ranger school.

which I found interesting. A nurse? Yes. A nurse.

Since about 2015 at least 154 women have graduated from Ranger school and it should be duly noted that there is one single standard of excellence that applies to all of them.

There is no 'women's PT requirements and nothing is adjusted for age.

One standard for everyone. I like that. It's fair.

From my brief Google search I discovered that the oldest graduate of the school was 49 years old and I'd have to consider him a freak of nature for being able to graduate at such a ripe old age.

She stood the gaff and partook of every single minute of training and like many of her male counterparts the instant the last minute of training was behind her she went straight to sick call.

Can't say as I blame her, or for that matter anyone else who completed the training. Some people have toughed the last part of the school out with broken bones.

I always got a kick out of the He Man Woman Haters that pointed out that she missed the last day. The last day is strictly administrative. They hand out diplomas, issue orders and assignments and that sort of thing. It doesn't count as training.

When that was pointed out to the naysayers they pretty much clammed up.

I wonder what she faced when she returned to her normal nursing duties. It's pretty much a lead pipe cinch she drew attention from the guys as well as her coworkers. I'd also bet she gets some pretty interesting assignments.

Update. She's a pediatric nurse.  I also found a picture of her taken before she went to Ranger school. She had beautiful long blondish hair which she wisely clipped short enough to maintain with a simple bar of GI soap before she left for school. 

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Someone asked my why I have such a hard attitude toward things.

It goes back to 1976 when I was a freshly discharged GI living in a tipi when the Entebbe Raid took place in Uganda. An Air France airplane on the Israel-Paris run had been hijacked, taken to Libya and then Entebbe, Uganda.

Needless to say, Israel tried diplomacy to get the passengers back to no avail followed by a raid on Entebbe Airport that is still being taught today in military circles.

The raid was short, sharp and vicious. It was slated to last an hour but the last Israeli aircraft went gear up 53 minutes after the first airplane hit the tarmac.

Out of 106 passengers taken hostage 102 were rescued. Three were collateral damage. Two were caught in the crossfire, one was misidentified as a hijacker when he got up after being told to stay down. The fourth, Dora Bloch was in the hospital at the time of the raid and was later murdered at Idi Amin's orders.

There was one military death, the commanding officer that was (as usual) leading from the front.

When I started attending classes at a local community college there was a pretty high veteran's population, The subject of the raid came up fairly often and the general consensus is that the United States should follow the example of the Israelis. 

One thing many of us agreed on is that as a direct result of the Entebbe Raid that Israel would not be having very many hijacking  problems for quite a while. It's actually proved true for several decades. I don't recall another hijacking of an Israeli airliner since.

Shortly afterwards Jimmy Carter became president and we became somewhat of a punching bag until he was replaced by Ronald Reagan.

It was about that time my mental policy of being somewhat slow to anger but hitting hard when the line is crossed came into being.

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Some kids are pretty damned funny.

I live on a hill and sometimes depending on when I am up and about I have coffee on my front porch and get to see the two boys diagonally across the street walk uphill to the bus stop.

There is another bus stop down the hill but the uphill stop is closer.

One morning I told the boys they ought to get on the bus at the uphill stop and get off the bus at the bottom of the hill.

"Why should we do that? the older one asked.

"So that when you get to be my age you can tell your children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews that it was uphill both ways when you went to school." I answered triumphantly.

The older one looked at me a tad confused, then instantly figured out where I was coming from and grinned.

I went inside and forgot about it.

Later in the mid afternoon I felt like a rare caffeine blast and nuked a cup of breakfast leftover coffee and wandered onto the front porch. I looked down the street and promptly snarfed.

There were the two boys walking up the street from the downhill bus stop!

It made my day.

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There's a pretty good movie at the Opium Theater. Wanna catch it?

I asked the woman sitting at the bar next to me.

"Sure! Why not? What's playing?" she asked.

"Das Boot, a German made U-boat movie." I replied.

She took me up on my offer.

This was Kodiak and life there was hilarious. The humor was brutal and no prisoners were taken. Occasionally comments were made during slowdowns. One time during a movie months earlier I dropped a beer can on the concrete floor and the entire theater recognized the sound and cracked up.

During a silence of Das Boot she said in a loud voice, "Piccolo, only you have the bad taste to take a Jewish girl to a German made war movie!"

Everyone in town knew everyone else's voice. Most of the audience laughed.

"Bad taste is timeless," i quietly replied.

"You mean old broad," I shot back.

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The hilarity of it all. Ya gotta love Trump

 After Newsome started babbling about gerrymandering the districts and allowing illegals to vote Trump retaliated by telling Newsome that he would assign ICE agents to the polls to round up the illegals.

That's the funniest thing I have heard in quite some time.

I'd just love to see how that one plays out.

Hell, I'd like to find an ICE ballcap and vest to wear to the polls. I'm sure Hilarity would ensue.

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My Contessa.

Is an Italian woman H had a long talk with on the air shortly after I licensed as a ham. She was one of my very first DX contacts and sounded like a very educated and polished woman that spoke perfect unaccented English in a beautiful voice.

I called her my Contessa.

Actually for all I knew she was a 400 pound woman in a muumuu but she sounded like a real beauty.

The reason I even brought this up is because I was going through my QSL cards and saw the one she sent me. 

I wondered what she was doing after all these years so I ran her call through QRZ.com and discovered she's now listed as a Silent Key.

When a ham dies they become a Silent Key which is a carryover from telegraphers. She is no longer and her QSL card will serve to remind me that I get closer by the day to becoming one.

That serves as a reminder for me to get off of my ass and do a few things.

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I am getting sloppy.

Missed a day which isn't the end of the world but it's a bad sign.

Time to buckle down, straighten out and start flying right.

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I live in quiet suburbia and I drive an automobile.

I am seeing more and more younger children on various motorized scooters and other vehicles.

When I first started seeing them I cringed but now I am getting over it. I'm pleasantly surprised in this area as even the little kids on scooters seem to be situationally aware.

As a courtesy I have developed the 'muffled toot' on my horn when I come up behind them and they give a quick head turn, smile and pay attention to staying on the side of the road.

I do still change course to steerageway and change course a bit but I can at least relax a bit because the kids are pretty damned good about playing by the rules.

It's generally the adults that get the angry blast of the horn because a number of them walk around with their head up their asses.

The locomotive horn is reserved for adult bicyclists that don't pay attention.

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Mister Kennedy!!!

I remember a close call with a collision when we were docking once.

What's odd is I don't remember all the details that led up to it. 

I do remember that the tug skipper was nicknamed 'Captain Crunch' and that we were light barge (no cargo on board) and that instead of having a load of gasoline on board we had gasoline bottoms because our last cargo had been gasoline. 

Gas bottoms are far more dangerous than having an actual cargo on board. Gasoline itself will burn like hell. Gasoline vapors explode.

Parts of New York Harbor are a mish-mash of docks and while most are fairly simple, some places are a real hash.

Anyway we were docking and in front of us was a barge right smack dab in front of us. It was at a 90 degree angle to where we were supposed to tie up. and we were not slowing down!

I keyed the mic of the handi talkie and shouted "Back down hard!"

It was unnecessary because as I keyed the mic I saw black smoke coming from the tug's stack. I kept quiet afterwards because I knew he already had it figured out. I also knew him in that he sometimes got a bit panicky. If he went hard astern he'd likely part both face wires and both safety lines and we'd collide unchecked.

When the other guy I was with heard me shout to the skipper to back down he looked up from the deck line he was uncoiling and looked at me.

I pointed forward and shouted "Mister Kennedy!"

He looked to where I was pointing and his eyes widened and his jaw fell. 

The deckhand off the tug was on top of it, calling the distance into the tug skipper as we slowly lost speed. We managed to stop with about 3 feet to spare.

Later my cohort asked me why I shouted "Mr. Kennedy!" He said for an instant he thought we were going to get rammed by a Japanese destroyer.

I told him I didn't know but it worked because I got his full attention.

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One of the things I am proud of is

that over the course of my 35+ year career I have helped a number of immigrants become citizens. I can think of a half dozen. 

It might have not been a whole lot but these people were (and most likely still are) good American citizens. Every single one of them had gotten into the States LEGALLY. 

I can remember two were Russians and one I see periodically. 

One of them, an Indian was a shoreside type working for an inspection company that came aboard from time to time. I helped him out by doing two things. He mentioned he wanted to understand the process.

First I told him to look up his Senator and write their office asking for every bit of information they had regarding United States citizenship. I pointed out that although he wasn't yet a citizen he could certainly ask. A month later he told me he received a boxful of information and was truly amazed. 

The other thing I did when we were along I pretty much beat the hell out of him helping him work on his accent. He sounded like Apu of the Simpsons. It was really OK but why not help him out little. He didn't take offense and I knew I was being helpful the time he asked me if I liked Indian food.

I replied that the hotdogs that Apu sold at the 7-11 are pretty good and then and there I knew I was making headway when in totally unaccented English he replied "You a$$hole!"

As for the pair of Russians, I gave them both copies of the Constitution written in Russian. They were grateful as hell. One of then I see periodically. He's a capitalist 100% because he runs his own business. I don't know what happened to the other guy.

Another was a Chinese inspector that was biding time as a petroleum inspector. US citizenship was (and still is) required to become a US Merchant Marine officer. This man planned on using his foreign flagged time towards becoming an officer (perfectly legal) and eventually going back to sea. I got his address and had my senator send him a 'citizenship package'. I also wrote him a letter of recommendation for whatever good it would do him in obtaining citizenship.

I ran into him a few months later and he was grateful because he said it was helpful. The sent him a copy of the Constitution in Mandarin Chinese as a part of the information he received as well as the Constitution in English.

I've also helped out a couple of Filipinos get set up on the course to citizenship by showing them where to obtain information and writing a letter of recommendation. The were sailing on documents which is legal for non citizens. An officer's license requires citizenship. 

I lost track of both of these guys. One reportedly took another job in California and the other transferred to the Gulf Coast. Last I heard of the guy on the Gulf coast as a licensed engineer which means he licensed after he became a citizen. 

My favorite immigrant story I had nothing whatsoever to do with. He was one of the office managers that had been born in Pakistan and finagled a deal with the Brits to enter into the Merchant Navy (Same-same US Merchant Marine). He saw opportunity in the States and moved here going through the proper procedures. When he got his Green Card he instantly got his Mariner's Document and went to work in the local maritime industry. 

He got his citizenship in Baltimore one morning and immediately walked a couple of blocks to the Coast Guard Regional Exam Center holding his new citizenship document. 

If this guy did one thing right it is that he does his homework. He had arrangements made to test beforehand and immediately sat for his license and passed the tests required for a captain's license. He could now legally run a tug. After a checkout/mate period he was running a tug in Baltimore. 

His children have all gotten post graduate degrees and are doing well.

None of these men were looking for handouts. They were looking for opportunity and found it working on the water. They had all arrived here legally, jumping through the hoops and playing by the rules. 

I also recall the time a Pakistani born petroleum inspector was being thrown out for overstaying a work visa. It was hard for me to feel sorry for him because he hadn't bothered to file for an extension or renewal. That was on him. How could someone forget to renew?

I saw a few guys canned because they forgot to renew their documents or licenses. What stupidity!

When you consider the office sent you out reminders at 90, 60 and 30 days (Which they didn't have to do) there was no excuse.

I remember answering the 90 day notice by telling them "I got my new document last month. Save the postage."

It was my lifeblood. Why would I forget to renew it?

One may wonder why I bothered to help these guys out but they don't know a damned thing about lubrication. Petroleum and synthetics lubricate iron and steel machinery. Favors and goodwill grease the wheels of industry...and life. The value of goodwill is incalculable and it pays serious dividends.

The amount of effort involved ins sending a few letters off or writing letters of recommendation were negligible. A few minutes here and there and a couple of postage stamp in exchange for numerous favors over the years is a damned good investment.

Recently I had a sob sister story written about how terrible I was for not 'putting myself in someone else's shoes'. 

Seems a woman in her 50s that had lived here illegally suffered a heart attack when ICE rounded her up. I got the usual 'she wasn't hurting anyone' defense. She made her living selling food she made.

Let's look at the details. She was in her mid 50s and had a heart attack. That I attribute to either lifestyle of bad genes as I seriously doubt that ICE mistreated her. 

OK, she had lived here for over 20 years illegally and was making her living 'selling food'. Actually she was probably a decent neighbor. Still, reading between the lines she was more than likely running and off the books lunch service.

It's a damned shame that she didn't enter legally and pay her dues because she could have probably opened and up front legal catering service.

Recently I wrote a couple of letters for my friend's now wife that jumped though the hoops and took about a year to get into the States. He met her when he was doing contract work overseas. I was certainly glad to do that and she's a real keeper. She's an RN and we certainly can use RNs.

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My foot is healing.

The other day I dropped something on my left foot and a couple hours later stubbed it on the coffee table and it blew up like a balloon. 

After a couple of days I got it checked and was basically told to keep doing what I was doing which was put a bag of frozen peas on it periodically. 

When one of the neighbors asked me about it they asked me if I was using some kind of super duper cooler ice pack to ice my foot down. I explained that those were obsolete because the AMA now recommends Great Value frozen peas as a dual purpose tool. Walmart sells them.

Anyway a couple of days later with no major improvement I got it checked and was basically X-rayed and told to keep on keeping on and to check with orthopedics if it didn't get better.

It's started to and I'm back to being able to walk with minimal pain.

Tomorrow if I don't need them anymore I'm going to have the peas along with haddock for dinner.

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I remember the time I got hauled in by the First Segeant.

After I was almost late returning from leave because of an airline connection problem, a strike. IIRC I was a PFC at the time.

The instant it looked like I was going to be late I instantly called Top and told him what happened. His response was, "I can fix this. DON'T do anything stupid, dangerous or illegal trying to get back here on time. Just get here safely as quickly as you can."

As it was I got back to the battery just under the wire, signing in at about 2345. I signed in, went home and grabbed a little shuteye and made formation the next morning.

When Top saw me he told me to report to him after formation. As I was walking in he pointed at me and said. "YOU did EXACTLY the right thing. When you ran into trouble you called. I wish I had an entire battery of people that would do that because it makes my job a LOT easier. Thank you."

Then he asked me my flight schedule and found out I had planned on arriving about 24 hours earlier. "You did that right, too. You left yourself plenty of time in case something came up."

The clerk chimed in which was somewhat rare. "Please close the door, Pic." he said. I closed the door. "Don't tell anybody, but I could have fixed it so the extra time wouldn't have even come off of your remaining leave balance. That's our secret."

Top nodded.

Then Top looked at me with a grin and said, "I'll assume you didn't do anything stupid to get here like hijack a plane or something."

"No, Top. I called you from the military assistance desk. "There was a Marine Gunnery Sergeant there and I said to him, "I know I'm a soldier but I was once told that if you want to get something done with Marines the best thing to do is ask the Gunny."

Top looked amused. "What did he say?"

"He said, 'I like you, Kid."

Top laughed. "So you buttered up a Marine, huh? Pretty resourceful. I take it he fixed you up."

"He got me a flight to Pete Field," I said. Top shook his head.

"Thank you for having the good sense to call ahead. Now go to work."

That lesson has stayed with me ever since. Sometime I'll tell you about the flight the Marine got me.   

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You only have yourself to blame.

because you hear muffled noise from a nearby shooting range.

Now you want the ranges to shut down.

This should be interesting because one of the ranges is owned by the state and likely isn't going anywhere. The other has been there since the 1930s. 

You shouted about getting the neighbors together to talk to your state representative to get it shut down but the sportsman's clubs in the state beat you to the punch years ago. They had legislation enacted to protect themselves from idiots like you. Your pleas will likely fall on deaf ears.

It' not the fault of the club or the state. It's YOUR fault you have to listen to muffled shots in the distance. You bought the house without investigating the area. 

House buying 101 says you look around the area before purchasing a place and look for things like that.

People like that are the same idiots that buy a house at the end of the busiest runway at a major international airport and try to shut down the airport.

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People forget that officers are also human.

It was our second field problem and the weather had been miserable during both of them. Much to his credit the Divarty CO came out and suffered along with us.

Like everyone else I was wet, tired, miserable and generally not too particular happy when the colonel encountered me doing some damned thing or another.

He commented something to me about the weather and I replied, "Sir, in the words of the late great Oliver Hardy, 'Here's yet another fine mess you've gotten us into.'"

I got to see his shadow, the Sergeant Major, turn purple and the colonel chuckled and said, "That's no lie, Sergeant. This weather is just plain miserable."

"Well, I may just have to be philosophical, Sir. Wars don't check with the National Weather Service before battles. I'll just chalk this horror show up as being good training although training to be miserable really isn't needed. That comes naturally. It's like griping."

"I think your right," he said. "Misery needs no practice. Next problem I'll have S-2 check with the weather service."

"Please don't, Sir. Please check with the Old Farmer's Almanac so at least we have a fighting chance."

That made him laugh like hell and he turned to the Sergeant Major and told him that he wanted S2 to start using the Old Farmer's Almanac for future weather predictions.

He walked off smiling and shaking his head.

IIRC the next field problem was in pretty good weather but I can't say for sure.

 

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My young friend has finished his internship and is headed home.

Shortly after he gets here it's off to his final semester at Embry Riddle and it off to start his career in Aerospace engineering.

He's kind of a nerdy type so that is right up his alley.

I just broke out 5 pounds of beef to make a crockpot full of chili for him. Old School chili consisting of meat, peppers, onions and spices.

I generally have him over for dinner when he comes home. He's lived in a home with three women and needs some guy chow every now and then.

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Words and names change in meaning over time.

And people are getting sick and tired of it. I know I am. 

Look at the word 'racist'.

It used to mean treating people unequally based on race. Now racist  means treating all people equally. 

If you supported eliminating DEI and treating everyone equally you are now a racist because you want everyone treated equally.

Nazis used to be National Socialists. Now they are people that believe in law and order.

By new and improved current definitions I am a racist Nazi which is OK by me because I know who and what I am.

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Piccolo answers a leftist.

Because of a few comments I have made over Sydney Sweeney some karen suggested I was a dirty old man or worse.

"I am certainly not interested in having a girlfriend like her because I do not like lose/lose scenarios. If the two of us were to hook up she would find herself in court defending herself and fighting for her life because if the DA could convince the jury that it was her idea she would be facing a lengthy sentence for murder."

"On the other hand," I continued "If she could convince the jury that it was my idea she would be free to go and my insurance beneficiaries would not receive a cent because my policies have a suicide clause in them."

Sometimes I can be downright dry.

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One of the things I said as a sailor.

If for some reason I die at sea you will make NO attempts to recover my remains that involve any danger to living humans.

No deep sea divers going through compartments, nothing. 

Just leave me. 

I'm planning on being buried at sea anyways and we don't need a bunch of middlemen and have to do things twice.

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One of the things I have discovered are these:

                                                                                   

They have any number of useful applications for semi-fixed appliances.

I just put one on the tankless hot water heater a couple of weeks ago and think I will install one for the air compressor in the garage.

This is for things you want to leave plugged in but want to be able to turn off. The air compressor could use one because it is seldom used and automatically turns itself on at odd times, usually at 0300.

Use it and shut it off.

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Nobody really cares. We just don't care to deal with your $hit.

The big thing these days is to brand the right as being hateful to the LGBTQ community. We're not. Years ago I wrote a piece here telling the gay community simply to go in peace.

For Pete's sake I have a TG nephew that I enjoy. He outright sucked at being a chick and now he's a pretty good dude to go fishing with. Of course he's smart enough to quietly just go about his business with no pomp, circumstance or other useless bull$hit.

We're just tired of your $hit. We don't care what you do so long as you keep it out of our faces and away from kids. 

That's about it.

We're not interested in your stupid parades and you have no business 

in schools. Let the kids be kind and discover themselves in their own time.

Collectively we don't hate any particular group other than those that want to destroy our liberties or way of life. Most of us have gay or minority friends and simply judge based on the content of one's character. I know in my case I would rather have a decent whatever living next door that some pain in the ass Karen. I'm sure I am not alone. 

I have always said that in general I have no problem with anybody regardless of race, creed, color, sexuality or what have you.

What I do have a problem with are two things. First the self-appointed 'leadership' of the various groups. Whatever/whoever you are I am not going to 'celebrate' your race/minority status/lifestyle. However I generally won't hate you for it  I will accept you based on the content of your character. Simply go about your business as an individual.

I will not say you are normal, either. In most cases you are not normal but that's OK. When you think about it I am probably not normal, either. (Be careful of defining normal, though or else we could ALL wind up in trouble.)

I don't deal with groups. I deal with INDIVIDUALS.

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I think I am going to have to get away from social media

simply because it give me high blood pressure.

I am beginning to believe social media is a conspiracy on the part of Big Pharma to sell blood pressure medication.

And that is all I have to say about that today.

==================================

If a building supply store is stupid enough to leave microphones unattended they get what they deserve.

"If you are looking for the little yard ape that bit me in the arm you can find him in the Maytag front loader in Appliance."

I think the next time it will be "Cleanup in aisle 44. Parents please take your children to the regular rest rooms. The toilets in plumbing are not for use. They are display items."

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Speaking of attractive models and complaints about them,

I remember a complainer we had at work that eventually was laid off for stupidity.

You have to remember that I made my career as a part of a large dysfunctional family called a boat crew. When we were underway it was a floating mess. When the first line hit the dock we were totally professional.

Because the galley doubled as an office we were pretty self governing strict about what what was posted on the galley/office walls. Mostly it was vessel pertinent stuff like pipeline diagrams, fire plans and that sort of thing along with current office notices. 

About the only none official thing we had posted was a calendar and we avoided controversy on that. One of the guys had a calendar he got from a feed store down home. Mostly the pictures were of farm girls on tractors or using farm machinery. The girls were simple soap and water faced farm girls. 

We were in the shipyard for maintenance and yardbirds were all over the boat with torches, welders, scalers and other implements of destruction. There was a constant racket of metal on metal as to be expected in the yard. I was mate at the time and the captain and I were fairly busy with little projects we had wanted to take care of. This was our golden opportunity to do little things to make our lives easier. 

Our port captain came aboard and told us one of the office women was headed that way and looked around. "Hell, I feel stupid looking around because I know you guys are pretty squared away."

Sure enough, shortly afterwards the office woman showed up. She was supposed to go through the ship's documentation which is something we had kept up religiously. We expected no problems and the only thing she found was something we should have pitched when the update arrived.

When she saw the calendar she complained about it to the port captain who looked stunned and said, "Don't be ridiculous!"

"I wonder what they have inside their lockers," she replied.

"The lockers in that bunkroom is the only privacy these men have. You're not going to invade it, He said and turned to me. "Secure the bunkroom hatches. NOBODY is going to invade your privacy."

This was funny in a way because a couple of times he had arrived early when we were sleeping in and made us breakfast as a courtesy and one Sunday when we were sleeping in wandered into the bunkroom to roust us and seen the pinup on the inside of my then open wall locker and had laughed like hell. "That's the most sarcastic thing I have ever seen," he laughed.

The pinup was none other than the iconic WW2 Betty Grable pinup. Yeah, that one.

The same pinup graced the inside of my wall locker when I was in the Army. Every single inspecting officer laughed like hell when they saw it and when they looked at me I'd say, "Second generation, Sir."

This particular port captain was treated like one of us because he was one of us. He treated us like men and in return we acted like men.

The day after the woman left was quiet.

The following day as I was cooking breakfast the port captain walked in. He was clearly angry and he spoke to both of us.

"That idiot woman from the other day raised hell about that stupid calendar and now the office wants it to look at." He looked at me. "Here's what we're going to do. You will leave here around noon in my company car, drive to the office. You WILL take coffee breaks every hour or so along the way incompliance with the safety rules. You WILL eat decent meals as needed. You WILL arrive in Philly after 1700 at which point the office will be closed. You WILL take an overnight room at the Ramada and eat a decent breakfast before you report to the fleet manager carrying that damned calendar at 0900 while wearing your greasiest coveralls. Take my company car and here's the company credit card."

I did what I was told, enjoying a nice steak and lobster dinner after I checked in at the Ramada and at 0900 reported to the fleet manager who paid no mind to my overalls. He took one look at the calendar and snapped, "You gotta be $hitting me! That's what this is all about?"

They were used to overalls at the fleet headquarters. The only thing the fleet manager did was say, "I'll bet you were told to wear greasy overalls to keep you from being sent to Center City. Well, guess again. You're taking this to the HR supervisor personally. They could use a dose of greasy overalls." 

When I got to Center City (where I was treated like a leper) I reported to the HR honcho that took one look at the calendar and started saying something incoherent about people's sensibilities and yada yada yada. He was obviously trying to do damage control.

"Andy of Mayberry is offensive?" I shot back. "Because this is Andy of Mayberry! What do you have against Andy and Barney?"

He caved in and asked if he could have the calendar. I agreed after he promised to return it. I left and got to see a suit shy away from me. I must admit I enjoyed my visit as a leper.

I got back to fleet after noon and the fleet manager saw me at 1300.

"I just spoke with your port captain and we agreed that we don't want you driving when you're overtired. Grab another room, get a good meal and leave tomorrow morning." he gave a knowing look.

I told him to make sure the calendar was returned and he said it would be a pleasure.

I did what I was told, having tied up 3 days over absolutely nothing. When I got back to the shipyard and reboarded the port captain came aboard. I told him the calendar was with HR who promised to return it. He promised to make sure they did.

Getting the calendar back was hilarious. Fortunately a pair of mechanics from fleet had been sent to the shipyard to fix some thing or another. They arrived about a week later and returned it with much laughter, pomp and ceremony and we returned Betty-Lou-Thelma-Liz to her rightful place.

Later we heard the woman was reassigned and not permitted to set foot on another boat again by order of the CEO!

Fact is, we didn't give a damn about the calendar itself. It was one of those entertaining battles fought on principle. Usually when something was taken off the boat by higher ups it was never returned before that. Afterwards things changed a bit.

Of course, the port captain gained a lot of respect from us and so did the fleet manager.

Betty Grable still graces my wall. I'm a sarcastic bastard.

 

 

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Had to check it out.

Following the left screeching about the Sydney Sweeny ads for American Eagle I had to see for myself. Besides I had nothing interesting to do.

I wandered in to the shop at the mall and looked around a bit and saw what looked like a few more men than usual for the time of day. It didn't surprise me. I hadn't expected to see it mobbed with males but it looked like more than usual were shopping at the time.

A salesgirl came up to me and asked if she could help me. I told her I was looking to see the results of not advertising with a purple haired facially tattooed fat chick and she laughed. She said business had picked up over the last couple of days since the ad came out.

When I said 'purple haired facially tattooed fat chick' she tried to suppress a big smirk. She was fairly attractive and well put together and well spoken although dressed a little artsy craftsy which is to be expected of clothiers.

One thing I noticed about the mall seemed to be the near absence of purple haired fat chicks although there were any number of overweight people there which is to be expected almost anywhere in the States.

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