which will make the yard a little nicer.
Wednesday, May 20, 2026
I think today I will plant my annuals.
Tuesday, May 19, 2026
We as a people are losing our ability to think.
When you ask someone who is buried in Grant's tomb and they instantly reach for their phone it really makes me wonder.
==========================================
In other news someone was asing me why my cat jumps up on me when I flop out on the couch.
The answer is quite simple but almost nobody understands it.
Because he is an orange cat and that's what orange cats do.
Yes, it really IS that simple.
Monday, May 18, 2026
The morning after a teenage kegger.
I believe I was out of high school when this happened. I went to a kegger and got careless and got plastered. The kegger was in the middle of nowhere and calling home was not an option.
It was not a good idea to drive. I could have easily had an accident and even if I didn't I knew I'd get caught by Dad who would go through the roof. It took me a few seconds to come to the conclusion I was already screwed. I wasn't going to get out of this unscathed. Better to face the wrath for not coming home that night than compound it by drunk driving.
I opened the trunk and grabbed the sleeping bag and crashed out in the back seat. If I recall I woke before dawn and felt kind of cruddy so I figured in for a penny, in for a pound and rolled over and grabbed some extra shuteye. Then I got into the front seat and drove home.
Dad and Mom were in the kitchen. I walked in to an angry "Where the hell have you been?"
"If you let me explain the whole thing I'll tell you," I said.
"Pray tell,"Dad said. "Please do."
"I was at this kegger last night..." I started.
"But you're under age," Mom interrupted.
"Quiet!" Dad snapped. "Just listen. I've got this!"
"Anyway I was at a kegger last night and lost track of my drinking and got plastered. There was no phone around for at least a couple of miles so I couldn't call. I wasn't going to drive home drunk so I sacked out in the back seat. I'll take my lumps for being out all night. I can live with that but it's a lot better than drunk driving."
Dad held his hand up to silence Mom and thought a moment.
He turned to Mom and said, "We raised a dumbbell but we didn't raise an idiot. I think I'm going to sleep a little better now because he at least recognized he shouldn't be driving."
"But...he's underage."
"But nothing. You and I will talk about that later." He turned to me. Tell Mom about the Conway kid."
"Bill Conway was driving a little fast. I heard not even ten over. He probably wasn't even going to get a real ticket, Probably just a warning. When the cop tried to pull him over he panicked and punched it and tried to outrun a cruiser. He rolled it on a turn at 80 and spent so much time in the hospital he had to take his senior year over again. On the day he got out of the hospital he was handed a summons for speeding, attempting to elude, reckless driving and a few add ons. All that for simply for trying to avoid what probably would have been a crummy warning ticket."
Dad looked at me and said, "You owe us for worrying the hell out of the both of us." His voice changed into an evil tone. "I've got a little job for you when you wake up. Now get some more sleep."
When I woke up and ran into dad he simply said, "Go hoe out the crap can." It was a two minute job. I was expecting something like digging a 10 foot deep hole and filling it in.
Dad didn't litter. In the clunker he drove back and forth to work he'd toss things onto the passengers side floor. All I had to do was take the kitchen wastebasket out to the car and pick up whatever was on the floor. One time it got pretty full and he commented that it was time to hoe it out. I laughed and the term stuck. To hoe something out meant give something a quick cleanup.
When I was done he said he needed a hand with something. We hopped into the car and headed to the hardware store. I knew he just wanted to talk.
"You dealt yourself a pretty dumb hand, Kid, I'll tell you that. You should have cut way back on the beer but I guess you had to learn. Fact is you played that hand well. You wisely cut your losses instead of of just going for broke. Don't make a habit out of this."
I think about a year later I was at a house party that was getting interesting. There was a phone so I called home. Mom answered so I told her to put Dad on. Dad answered.
"Hey I got a little problem. What if I came home in the morning?"
Dad asked me yes and no questions in case someone was listening to our conversation.
"Are you plastered?"
"Not really."
"Close?"
"Yes."
"You probably shoulden't be driving. Sack out there...Son, thanks for calling. Better safe than sorry."
As I write this I remember that once I called home and simply said, "Pick me up at the Scituate town pier. I got a bad feeling. Don't ask."
"I'm on my way," he said.
Fifteen minutes later we were headed home. When I got in he said, "I won't ask. I trust your judgement."
About halfway home I simply stated that I didn't want to have to deal with acid heads and thanked him.
He said he figured it was something like that.
The Old man was a GENIUS.
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
Sunday, May 17, 2026
Tax the poor!
40% of Americans pay no income tax aggording to a quick Google search.
The top 1.5% pay over 40% of the income taxes paid.
Let's start making the poor pay their fair share.
I just said that to someone that was babbling about taxing the rich ala NYC.
They replied that nobody needs all that money.
I agreed. Nobody needs over $40,000 a year to live.
They didn't like that very much even though it's true. You don't need, for example, a new car every ten years or so.
Screw the poor! Make them pay their fair share!
Saturday, May 16, 2026
I think I wil let you hear from the cat.
hyu[;pj'aws34/SDY6K,[[
He is an orange neutered male cat that is a royal pain mi the ass.
He makes me laugh which is why I love him so much.
Friday, May 15, 2026
I have something to do today.
I am going to help stock a pond with fish later this morning.
Thursday, May 14, 2026
| I went to test finally. I had gotten my lerner's permit the day after I turned sixteen and was rarin' to go but Dad had some bad news. One of his customers was a registry cop and in passing dad had learned that it was best for a new licensee to wait at east a month or two before testing unless you had a previous license from another state. The cop told him the testers generally were over rigorious to young people that showed up the day after they got their permits. So we waited a couple of months. I still was Dad's chauffeur but now it included daylight hours so I generally drove him everywhere. The first time after I got my permit I drove Dad to the Harbor to the hardware/lumberyard to pick up some trim for a project. I don't think the ink had dried on my permit when I did that. A couple months later it was off to the testing place a couple of towns over. IIRC it was a first come, first served situation and we had to wait a while. Much to my consternation Dad jumped into the back seat and started to take a nap. What was that all about? A girl was walking out with the tester to their car. She was a giggly girl that looked as nervous as a whore in church. The two of them got into the car and left. They were gone about ahalf hour and she got out of the car excited. She had passed. Generally speaking, parents were not allowed to ride along. Probably because if a kid failed some of the parents would raise hell. The tester came over to me and when he saw dad sleeping in the back seat he said, "Oh, hell. Let him sleep." We got in and off we went. He gave directions and I drove. Shortly thereafter he started giving me a lecture about safe driving and yada yada yada. Every kid has heard the same thing hundreds of time and it's annoying as hell. What really made it suck was I was captive. I HAD to listen to it. When he got to the drinking and driving part a sleepy voice from the back seat said, "He quit doing that two years ago." The tester went into schock and indignantly and pompously snapped "In the Commonwealth of Massachusetts you have to be sixteen years of age to operate a motor vehicle and twenty one years of age to buy liquor!" I calmly answered "In Montana you can get a driver's license at fourteen and drive at any age so long as a licensed driver is sitting next to you. It's rural there so Montana permits it." "What were you doing in Montana?" he asked. "I have an uncle that raises horses and I spend time with him," I replied. I did have an uncle that raised horses but he lived in Michigan. I never said my uncle lived in Montana. I just let him add 1+1 and get 3. "He said drinking and driving?" said the tester. "Oh, that. They don't have an open container law there. One time the licensed driver handed me an almost empty beer and told me to finish it because he wanted to watch me embark on a life of crime. I did. Later in a discussion Dad told me that if I never did it again I could tell people I quit drinking and driving when I was fourteen. I think it would be pretty cool to be able to tell people that when I'm forty so I never did it again and I won't. It's too good of a story." He shook his head. "Well it's illegal here." I bit my tongue. What I wanted to say was 'So is cutting the little tags off of a pillow' but why pick a fight? I relaxed a bit and figured the lecture was over. It wasn't. He continued telling me about the importance of following all the traffic signs. A sleepy voice was heard from the back seat. Dad went in for a headshot. "That boy has been trained very well and be more than careful to obey the rules and regulations because I pointed out that most felony arrests are initialted with a simple traffic stop." He didn't know what to say for a few seconds and then turned to me and simply said, "Listen to your father. He's right. Take us back to the office." I made a turn and started back. Dad was now seated upright. I spoke to the tester. "There's one thing. This car has an automatic transmission. The other car at home has a manual and I usually drive that one with Dad. I don't want to get a restricted license," I said. He asked why we had not taken the Falcon. dad responded. "Because his kid brother left a striper on the back seat floor and the car stayed sealed up all weekend," Dad said. "I'll drive it back and forth with the windows open for a few days and then we can retest if we have to." Actually my brother had left a striper on the floor whe he was bringing his fishing tackle back inside the house but had pickked it up a few minutes later. The car went unused all weekend. "It won't be necessary," he said. He turned to my father. "I'll take you at your word." I'm sure he had visions of being stuck in a car that smelled of rotting fish and that by just not checking a box he would dodge a bullet. The real reason we didn't take the Falcon was that it was a rat. A crap can, a clunker, a shitbox, a real puss bucket. The only thing on it that was reliable was the cigarette lighter. It has a manual choke and a prescribed litany to get it started. The shifter was sticky, so was the clutch and it rattled. It should have been sent to the boneyard long beforehand. It served only two legitimate purposes. It took Dad back and forth to work and it was perfect for teaching me to drive on. That was it. As we drove back to the office he was filling out my paperwork. dad and the tester found a connection. The tester had served as an airplane mechanic and dad had been a bombardier during the war. They chatted as I drove. When we got back the tester handed me my paperwork. The dreaded 'Automatic transmission only' box was unchecked. I was good to go. Ten years later. I had gotten out of the Army and was home. Dad and I were having a beer and out of nowhere he asked me about drinking and driving. I said I had quit when I was fourteen. "Really?" "Yeah, really," I said. "It's too good of a tale to ruin it over a lousy beer." He laughed like hell. "Remember the fliver?" I asked. More laughter. He almost snarfed. "There were a couple of times I could have gotten rid of that and replaced it for free but I decided to keep it," he said. "It was such a shitbox that it was the perfect car to teach you to drive on. I figured if you could drive it then you would be able to drive anything. Besides..." "Besides what?" "Besides I never saw anyone have so much just plain fun as you when you were driving the damned thing! It showed on your face. I don't think I ever saw anyone as happy as you behind the wheel of that of crapcan. " Five year later he was gone. He left us too soon. |
Further proof Muslims don't assimilate.
Recently I saw a couple of Muslims saying that MacDonald's should be shut down because it doesn't sell halal meat.
That in itself tells me they would not assimilate very well. They want the rest of us to change to suit them.
WRONG! Ain't happening. Go away.
If they really understood how things work they would have said. "JOB OPPORTUNITY!" and looked into opening a halal restaurant or maybe a Halal burger joint.
One thing about non Muslims, most don't care if they eat halal meat or not. They would probably find non Muslim customers on top of Muslims and it's likely they would do pretty well, depending on the location of their business.
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A while ago a Swiss butcher got popped for selling pork that was marked as halal veal to Muslims. He'd sold over 3.1 tons over a 3 year period in Zurich. None of his customers were the wiser.
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