While visiting my niece and nephew

 about 6 years ago I encountered someone from my high school days. Apparently she remembered me and recognized me. For the life of me I didn't recognize her.

She asked me what I had been doing all these years.

I was feeling sarcastic so I spun a pretty good yarn.

Jailed for a murder I didn't commit, I spent 19 years in a West Virginia penitentiary before the DNA evidence exhonorated me. As compensation for jailing me wrongly they gave me a portion of the state number plate business as I had worked there. About the time I was released they had to privatize it because it became illegal to have convicts working for the public.

By that time my wife and kids had left me and refused to even talk to me. I had to write them off.

I knew 54 was a little late to start over again but I decided to anyway. If you look over there you can see my wife and two daughters. 

I pointed at my niece and her two, caught her eye and waved. She raised her voice a bit and asked, "Got everything you need?"

I nodded.

Then I took my leave, went over to my niece and we left. As we were leaving I saw the woman pull out a cell phone and I just knew she was calling someone to say, "Guess who I just met..."

Not a bad yarn considering I had no warning. A pretty good hipshot.

I told my niece what I did and she shook her head and seemed a little miffed. When she told her mother (my sister) she got nothing but laughter for an answer. Her brother laughed, too.

No prisoners in our family.

The real fun over this incident came about a year later when I got an invite to reunion 40.

I called my niece and asked her if she'd go to the reunion with me and let me pass her off as my wife. Bring the kids.

Of course, she adamantly and indignantly refused.

When her brother called and asked her to 'Help out her Uncle Pic" she refused.

When her mother called and asked her the same thing she realized she was being rat-packed and told us all where to go. I suppose she got over it instantly. You have to admit it was sort of funny.

As it ended, I was at sea for reunion 40. I was slated to come but my work sked changed at the last minute. I was bummed. Maybe it was for the better.

Anyway, I have posted that reunion 45 is coming up and have posted a few bright ideas for my arrival there, none of which I am going to use. I'll probably just arrive and have my nephew drop me off and pick me up quietly.

Still, for the next couple of months I'm going to have a little fun and post a few half-baked ideas for showing up at the reunion.

Fast-roping out of a helicopter into the parking lot, parachuting in. Landing an ultralight in the parking lot. The possibilities are endless.

Incidentally, the hot babe draped on my are isn't all that too far fetched. Mrs. Pic can look pretty damned hot for her age if I could get her to doll up.

While I don't think there would be daggers coming out of the eyes of my female classmates like there would be if I showed up with a hottie half my age, there sure would be looks of envy. She looks pretty damned good for her age. Real good.

Sometimes I think I ought to bring her. I can hear her telling someone that she met me as a wildman, which she did. I was a shaggy being, close to being a total savage when we met. 

She could tell people that she had to teach me to live in a house again and that in exchange I taught her to live on a sailboat.

I was at sea doing a sailboat delivery for reunion 20 and at sea fishing for reunion 10.

I think I was lucky to miss 10 and 20 because it seems to me that 10 would have been a bunch of boasting about new careers and new babies.

If I recall I had a couple of months notice for reunion 10. I was in Kodiak at the time and met a couple of French travelers. I sent my regrets by having the Corsican travelers send the letter to Corsica for reposting. My return address on the letter was a French Foriegn Legion barracks. The 2e REP (les paras) was and still is stationed there in Calvi.

At that particular time I had no interest in going. I figured then that it would be nothing but a brag fest. I suppose I hadn't mellowed out by reunion 10. 

Twenty would likely been a bunch of career bragging and I did get word that one buffoon dragged a twenty-ish year old girlfriend along and managed to outrage some of the women.

Forty-five seems like it ought to be a pretty good reunion to go to because by one's 60s things have settled down. The kids are up and raised and jobs and careers are winding down. Likely I'll have to listen to stories of grandchildren, though.

You're likely to hear about successes, but along with this you'll hear of failures and maybe get a better rounded story of people's lives.

I do know some of my classmates are retired and in a lot of instances I think that's a waste of talent. I won't get into that here except to say that they could be working in their fields and doing good by bringing their life's experiences into play.

Actually when you get down to it, I will likely be walking into a group of total strangers. None of us are even remotely close to being the people we are 45 years ago.

Oddly enough I can count four that I know of off the top of my head that became teachers. My guess is that none of them taught math or science but I may be wrong.I would also guess they are now drawing pensions.

I had best keep my mouth shut with them, though. I blame an awful lot of what's happening now in this country on people like that. Liberals that went into teaching have done a lot of damage to this country economically.

I most likely disagree with almost all of them in the areas of social programs, taxation, government intervention, gun control and big government in general. 

Oddly enough, though they would find me in agreement as somewhat of a social liberal in that I consider an awful lot of things to be none of government's business. Truth is I think both parties suck.

There are a small handful of people I really want to see. One of them is the kid that lived across the street when I was growing up. We were constant companions when we were little but about halfway through junior high we went different ways. This is actually only curiosity. 

There are a couple others, but really only a few.

Still, I'm going to have some fun with this until it happens. My fertile mind can conjure up some pretty off-the-wall scenarios for arrival. 

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Hillary, you were SO poor!

Hillary Clinton siad that she and Bill were broke when they left the White House.

Very Interesting.

I wonder which bridge the Clintons moved under when they vacated 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?

Or did they move into a homeless shelter?

Perhaps they sacked out on the couch of some senator or Democratic party official for a while until they could get back on their feet.

I wish Hillary would tell her story in a little better detail. It would be interesting to hear.

Truth is people like that have never had to do anything to take care of themselves like the rest of us. They don't know what being broke is.

Yet some of us believe them when they say they have the 'common touch'.

In a pig's ass they do! They don't know squat about what the average guy does to make ends meet. Instead they keep demanding more and more from us.

I'd just bet Hillary can't make a tuna noodle casserole to save her fat ass.

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Proposed Craigslist ad.

Trophy wife needed for high school reunion.

You know the drill.

It's been 45 years.

I was the guy that got put into the big football game because of the 'everybody's got to play in the game' rule.

I caught the pass but tripped over a shoelace at the 3 yard line and we didn't get to go to State. I got blamed for it.

The job in the shoe store never went anywhere.

Wife left me, kids hate me. She even took the dog. The only one in the family that liked me and she took it.

Hair fell out, weight packed on and now I kind of look like Danny Divito.

Picked on at school because I took a different tack and didn't fit in. Bullied by the class bully for all four years.

It's been 45 years since I graduated and I want some payback.

Looking for a topheavy little hottie half my age squeezed into a little black dress to drape on my arm for my 45th reunion.

I want every woman in the room looking at you with daggers in their eyes and every man standing there inside a pup tent.

Ability to strut your stuff down through the geriatric vegetable ward and make catherters pop off takes you straight to the head of the line.

Oh, yeah. One other thing. Don't spill anything in the Ferrari because it's a rental.



I'm not going to post this one as much as I would like to because my email box got stuffed the last time I posted a sham ad.

Besides if someone recognized me and rubbed it in Mrs. Pic's face she'd be rightly upset. It's not fair to her.

A while back I posted that I had a '60s B-52 survival kit for sale and listed all of the contents in Major Kong's kit that was seen on the movie 'Dr. Strangelove'.

I guess most people picked up on it but it went over a lot of heads and I got a few emails asking me if I'd part the kit out.

Someone wanted the .45 and a couple junkies wanted the drugs.

Several people answered the ad and thought it was pretty funny because they recognized it right off. The tip-off was that I said I was willing to trade the kit for a pretty good weekend in Vegas.

Still, if anyone wants to copy it and post it on Craigslist, feel free to. In fact if I was single I WOULD post it for the hell of it.

A couple of years ago I wrote a whacked out personal along a similar vein of pathos and put it on a board for anyone that wanted it.

A couple of guys posted it and reported getting numerous hits and a couple of guys actually got dates.

Feel free to put in on Craigslist.

You might even make the 'Best of Craigslist' column.




Incidentally if you don't remember the survival kit check list scene here's a link to refresh your memory.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPwW7RaPO_g



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One of the things that amuses me is when

some idiot that buys a house next to an airport or military base starts to complain about the noise.

Personally the I truly believe that the army promoted me to E-5 because they realized what kind of grief former corporals have caused throughout history and they were looking at preventing a major war or three.

Of course, making me a general was DEFINITELY out of the question. They most likely knew what kind of grief that would cause them.

I suppose they should have just left ma a PFC but realized their mistake when they made ma an E-4. I went fro E-4 to E-5 in record time.

As a base commander I would likely keep a company sized unit on alert and ready to fall into formation at a moment's notice. Along with this I would have a few friends in the local press handy to show up on short notice.

Picture this: Joe Newly Moved In shows up to gripe about the noise that keeps going on over his new dream home.

General Piccolo asks him to come back the following day and instantly orders a couple of hot fighters to knock a hole in the sky over the griper's house at 0300 that evening. 

A couple of fighter jocks give the place a good buzzing and rattle his windows half out of the frames.

The following day the griper shows up and is met by the company sized formation, brought up in front of it and hears the words, "Attention to orders!"

"Joe Newly Moved in is hereby awarded the Air Force whiner and stupidity medal in accordance with the East Muleshoe Air Force Base policy for sniveling and whining above and beyond the call of duty."

General Pic then pins the medal on the guy, kisses him on each cheek with all the local press cameras clicking away taking pictures for the local press.

With any luck the wire services will pick up on it and maybe a video will go viral.

General Piccolo then turns to the formation, dismisses them and walks off. 

That is why I never made it to general officer rank. The army may be crazy but it is clearly not stupid.



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Short!!

It has been a couple of months and the Army has not given me my birthday back. I am, I suppose, still only 22 and coming close to retirement.

I am still a 22 year old stud muffin married to a 62 year old woman.

Hmmm. My old outfit has transferred but is still operational. It still exists. 

If the Army G-1 won't answer me, I think I may have to go straight to successor of the man that took away my birthday.

I remember that when we got a new Top Kick he started off by giving everyone a pretty clean slate.

Maybe a letter to the present First Sergeant will get me my birthday back.

I think I will start writing one now.



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Today a conversation is going to take place

 and I know how it will go already.

A while back I was buying a do-hickey to keep me from turning off a certain light by accident. The clerk at Lowe's was nosy and asked me if my grandchildren were coming to visit.

It was none of her business so I decided to toy with her and told her that I was a first time father at the age of 62 because I married a younger woman.

Of course, when people start nosing around they do not generally let up. She asked me how old my wife was and to her horror I told her that my wife was getting her driver's license next week and when she gets out of high school we're going to have a dozen more babies.

Of course it was and is a crock. My wife is about my age and I am 62 but the nosy clerk didn't know it.

What is funny is the woman in line behind me had one hell of a hard time keeping a straight face. She knew what I was doing and actually played along telling me to enjoy fatherhood while the babies were still so young and sweet.

I paid for my stuff, slowly walked off and the woman caught up with me and laughed and said I was evil. Funny as all hell, but evil.

My nephew and his wife just had a child and I am coming up soon to visit them and the following conversation is likely to take place shortly.

"Hey, when I get there can I have my picture taken with Miss Sally?"

"Sure, why not," he'll reply.

"Can you get a high school junior or senior to stand next to me?"

"Wait a minute.What's this all about?"

I'll remind him of what happened in Lowe's and he'll laugh like hell and say, "How about with my wife? Will that work?"

"Certainly not," I'll reply. "She's too damned old."

"Too old?! She's not even close to thirty yet! I dunno how the wife is going to like that," he'll say, dubiously.

"We'll give her a copy and when she shows it to her friends they will most likely laugh like holy hell. You gotta admit it is pretty outrageous."

"That it is but what I expect it of you," he'll reply.

"Besides, I got a high school reunion coming up and I ought to get great milage with a picture like that. All of my classmates are grandparents now and it'll outrage most of the women and the guys'll call me a stud."

"High school reunion, huh? Last one you tried to con my sister into going with her kids!"

'Yeah, but I never made it. Can you drum up a high school junior of senior to pose as my new wife?"

"Why not a freshman or sophomore?"he'll ask sarcastically.

"What do you think I am? Some kind of pervert?"

"Yes. Now let's see...There's the girl that watches our dog every so often....She's about sixteen."

"Perfect!"

"Look, the wife is not going to allow this and I'm not going to bother asking her," he will reply. "She'll let you have your picture taken with Sally. That is about it. Then I'll photoshop someone onto it for you and show it to the wife. She'll think it's funny."

"Save a copy for your mother."

"Of course. Mom will laugh her ass off! I told her what you did to that clerk at Lowe's and she damned near died laughing!"




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One of the things I like about working at sea

 is that there are a lot of guys that pick up quickly on things.

The cell phone chargers are one thing that comes to mind. One of my shipmates has one with a couple of different ends on it and plugs it in as soon as he comes aboard. It's great as it reduces the number of wall warts needed to keep everyone's personal communications up. 

He generously shares it with everyone else on board and makes life easier for everyone.

Little things like that create a harmony on board and cut down on bickering.

Tonight I looked at my cell phone and saw it needed charging. I looked at the wire that fits my phone. Someone else was using it but his phone was fully charged so I unplugged his and plugged mine in. It's charging now.

If the phone that I found being charged wasn't fully charged I would have simply waited my turn.

It wasn't always that way. Once I plugged my phone into an unused charger and got a lecture from the owner on property rights. I agreed with him and told him it would never happen again. It didn't. 

Of course, he wasn't a very happy camper when I told him to move his charger so I could use the outlet. I suggested he would be a whole lot happier plugging his wall wart into an outlet in the generator room.

I generally do a lot of the grub shopping for the boat because the crew flies into town for crew change and I drive. 

I figure that if I have to go shopping for myself, I might as well go for the other guys involved and it works out pretty good. It saves them a hassle and in turn they do most of the cooking.

There are an awful lot of cases where people have rights and can stick to them but it's going to hurt them to do so. You have to think a bit and be flexible.

The guy that was ordered to move his wall wart to the generator room just screwed himself by not looking out for his shipmates and trying to make life easier for them.

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One

of my favorite things to hear is when an idiot tells me, "It's OK. I know all the cops."

I heard that one a while back from someone I was giving a ride to under strange circumstances. A friend asked me to run him home. This guy was a shifty sort. He was related to my friend and my friend had his car in the shop at the time.

 I was tooling along at legal speed and this shady customer said it was OK for me to speed up because he knew all the cops.

I dropped him off and forgot about it until the next day when I ran into one of the few cops I do know and mentioned what had happened the previous day.

The cop asked me who the guy was and I told him.

"He does know us all," said the policeman.

"He does?" I asked, somewhat surprised.

"Sure does," replied the cop. "I know him from arresting him for drunk driving, Smitty knows him from a domestic call, Deegan and Klien both got him for public intoxication and Cinzano hauled him in for stealing milk crates behind a supermarket."

"I guess he was right," I answered, dryly. "He DOES know all the cops."



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I seriously wonder if I would answer the nations's call to arms these days if something broke out. It's quite possible I would not.

Right after the Dolittle Raid on Japan the media asked how the Air Corps pulled the mission off. Of course, today everyone knows the Dolittle Raiders flew off Hornet but FDR decided to protect the sailors and ship.

He told the media that they attacked Japan from our secret base in Shangra-la. Roosevelt had enough decency to keep the details under his hat because he knew the Japanese would be spiteful and go after Hornet with a vengeance.

We now have an administration that doesn't seem to give a damn about the lives of our service people.

Right after the Bin Laden raid none other than Vice President Biden flapped his trap and let the world know that the unit that nailed Bin Laden was Seal Team Six.

A couple of months later Al Quida got their pound of flesh when they ambushed and shot down a chopper killing a number of members of the team responsible for the Bin Laden raid.

Biden should be in jail for that one. He gave away classified information simply to get his name in the papers.

Just a couple of days ago none other than President Obama secured the release of a questionable American prisoner in Al Quida hands. It seems that a number of people that served with the man feel he was not a prisoner as such, but more like a deserter.

We exchanged 5 Al Quida terrorists out of the holding facility in Gitmo for this questionable soldier.

First of all it has been our policy not to deal with terrorists. It only encourages them. In the long run this endangers our people, both in and out of the service. When terrorists know they can't cut a deal generally don't bother taking hostages. It's not profitable.

President Obama just took it upon himself to decide to deal with terrorists, a decision patently against policy. As a result he has endangered citizens and service people, both at home and abroad.

It is one thing to join the service and serve for leadership that cares about you and another thing to serve for someone that looks at your life as an opportunity for political gain.

After putting the lives of our service people overseas in greater danger by negotiating for the release of a soldier that was reportedy substandard to begin with, I can see how the attitude of the average GI can turn 180 degrees. I can see why he would want out.

While it isn't likely that they are going to ask a 62 year old has-been, if they do ask me to serve the answer will probably be an emphatic no. I do not want to serve and endanger my life under leadership that is willing to give my life away simply for political gain.

I can see where GIs would want to get out. 

I suppose if I were a Marine guard stationed at the White House I would probably do a good job of representing the nation by being a good parade ground type guard. On the other hand, I sure wouldn't jump on a grenade for the present administration, either.



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One of the things I plan on doing this summer

 is to try and get the soles of my feet as hard as they were when I was a kid growing up.

They'd be soft about this time of year but by the Fourth of July they were pretty damned tough. By the beginning of August I could walk across just about anything barefoot.

I can remember the heat under my feet as I walked barefoot across blacktop in the middle of July and recall that it just didn't seem to register much. At least not as much as it did on Memorial Day weekend.

Of course, by Memorial Day I had likely been running around barefoot for the better part of a month.

Anyway, this summer I think I am going to go barefoot quite a bit. It's good to let one's feet breathe.




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busy these daze

For the next couple of weeks or so the posts will most likely be short and sweet as I am snowed under with a lot going on. Making a living comes first.

Someone has asked me why I post daily here and seeing he is about 24 or so, Iooked at him seriously and said, "A lot of the younger people read this blog. I write it to keep them busy. Anything I can do to keep a youngster off the streets and out of the pool halls is a positive contribution to society."

My mate, standing behind the kid snickered.

Truth is I don't have a clue but it does give me a pretty good vent. A good vent is important and everyone actually has one except for the stupid few that keep everything bottled up until they explode.

The few stupid ones generally blow up and make life truly miserable for the rest of us.

Freedom is a two way street. If you don't want to see something, don't look. If you do, go ahead and look. It is your choice.




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I just saw an article that reports

 that there are more people collecting from the government in one form or another than are working full time.

I'm not going to get into the details except to say that full time working Americans have gotten to be a minority.

It is ridiculous.

We've gotten to the point where over half of us are dependent on the government and the remaining less than half are expected to have to bust ass to foot the bill. 

Insanity.

I stopped working overtime some time ago and contemplated taking a pay cut simply to cut down on the amount of tax I had to shell out every payday. It is simply my way of trying to help starve the beast.

Of course, we can see that the people dependent on the government are good with this because if they were not they would be on the work force.

Retirement is beginning to scare the holy hell out of me because I am rapidly seeing my savings being eaten by inflation. 

I also see that social security and various government pensions are going to be eroded by inflation in the future. It's likely to be a slow erosion at first, as it is now. Still it will not be long before the $500 you worked overtime to save and nest egged away for the future is only going to be able to buy you a loaf of bread.

We now have busted 17 TRILLION in debt and the president wants the debt ceiling raised even more.

Now there are two ways we can pay that debt off. One is by eliminating foreign aid, social programs and entitlements. The other is through inflation. We just inflate the currency and pay it off with cheaper dollars.

Of course, that ruins a lot of people that have busted their asses to save and get ahead but I suppose neither the government nor the Free $hit Army give a damn.

They've been too busy taxing the corporations into either poverty or into moving.

A ham operator, an American ex-pat a while back is in the telecommunications industry and was telling a couple of us that the telecommunications industry has taken billions out of the country. 

It makes sense. When you are talking about having to either take the money off shore somewhere or fork over a huge chunk to the government it's a simple no brainer.

You simply take the money and leave.

We, as a people have grown slovenly and dependent on someone else. There was a time not too long ago when as a people we were fiercely independent of government.

I guess that time is past and we have grown dependent on other people, but don't get too used to it. A system can't last very long unless a lot more than 49% of the people pitch in



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I got this as an email and I wish I knew who wrote it.

I'd buy them a beer and attribute it to them.




It's a slow day in the small town of Pumphandle and the streets are deserted. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody is living on credit. 

A tourist visiting the area drives through town, stops at the motel, and lays a $100 bill on the desk saying he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs to pick one for the night. As soon as he walks upstairs, the motel owner grabs the bill and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher. (Stay with this..... and pay attention). 

The butcher takes the $100 and runs down the street to retire his debt to the pig farmer. The pig farmer takes the $100 and heads off to pay his bill to his supplier, the Co-op. The guy at the Co-op takes the $100 and runs to pay his debt to the local prostitute, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer her "services" on credit. 

The hooker rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill with the hotel Owner. The hotel proprietor then places the $100 back on the counter so the traveler will not suspect anything. 

At that moment the traveler comes down the stairs, states that the rooms are not satisfactory, picks up the $100 bill and leaves. No one produced anything. No one earned anything. However, the whole town now thinks that they are out of debt and there is a false atmosphere of optimism and glee. 

And that, my friends, is how a "government stimulus package" works!

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What got me into ham radio.

I was looking for an old vintage Hallicrafters, Hammerlund, Collins of Drake receiver as a decorator piece for my man cave/bedroom and started looking around in various places.

I mentioned this on a ham forum and a few other places.

I was scouting eBay and one of the guys I ship with started looking around for the hell of it. He spotted a Chinese Army Vietnam era rig, complete with a hand powered generator. He pointed it out to me and said, "I can see you sitting on top of a hilltop with that sending out Morse code messages that you are a Japanese holdout in New Guinea that doesn't know the was is over!"

I was aware the the FCC had dropped the code requiremenfort licensing and looked at my smart-assed shipmate. "I'll bet I could get a license to run that little rig!"

He laughed.

It was early on the tour and we were not too busy so when I had time I took on-line practice exams and the day after I got off my tour I drove out to a town in Ohio and tested.

I passed the Technician and General tests and decided to look for a rig similar to the Chinese 102e rig my shipmate had teased me about.

The guy selling the 102e told me it wasn't a rig for a newbie so I went looking for other rigs.

I hit the lottery and found the Brits had just released their stock of PRC 320 HF transceivers and they were simple to operate. I did a little research, liked what I saw and ordered one.

After making contact with a few DX stations with the little rig I was hooked and put together a little barefoot home station and have been a happy camper. I now have 185+ DX entities logged and over 165 confirmed.

Not a bad side track for a guy looking for an old Hallicrafters to use as a decoration! 



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Taxation and business opportunity.

"We'll tax the hell out of it and make those people pay through the nose!" is a battle cry I have heard from time to time.

Yeah, right.

The entire moonshine industry is based on taxation. 

Moonshine is nothing more or less than untaxed liquor ranging in quality between total rogut and damned good hootch depending on the maker. I would imagine that if the tax on a bottlle of spirits dropped the moonshine industry would take a pretty good hit.

Sometimes I wish I knew which stump to put a couple bucks on, but I don't. The hootch I tasted at deer camp a while back was damned good stuff, as smooth as silk.

Americans hate paying taxes but, of course, it is a necessary evil. Nothing is free and the government doesn't have a dime to its name. They get their money from us, the taxpayers.

Governments create their own underground economies as i saw a while back in New York City. The industry was the cigarette industry.

In New York City a pack of cigarettes runs upwards of $14, figure about $120 or so a carton. That's if you go to a regular store.

One of the guys I work with gave me the inside scoop on this and how it works on the streets. You go to a certain convenience store and explain that you are a friend of Al. The storekeeper then reaches into a cabinet and fishes out a carton of one's favorite smoke and hands it to you and you hand him $90. He puts the $90 in his pocket.

If you don't know Al and ask for a box he charges you the $120 and it goes into the register. I asked the guy that took me there what tax stamp is on the smokes and he said it was most likely Delaware.

The scam is simple. You drive to Delaware and buy a case or three from a smokeshop there and pay full Delaware price. Delaware gets their tax money.  

You then stuff it in your trunk and drive back to NYC and drag it into your shop and sell them. The deal was on the up and up until you crossed the state line.

Delaware smokes for top brands run about $60 a carton so every carton the shopkeeper sells puts $30 untaxed dollars in his pocket. It adds up fast.

Of course, New York City never sees a dime of that money. For that matter, neither do the Feds.

The smoker and shopkeeper win and NYC loses out. Incidentally a lot of cops will turn a blind eye to this, especially if they are a smoker. Cops don't like taxes, either.

In short, NYC has created their own little crime wave.

This doesn't include the hijacking of cigarette trucks by mob guys, either. A stolen carton of smokes is 100% profit. When you do the math, the mob types can sell a stolen carton for $5 and still make a killing. At 60 or 70 bucks a box the money they can make is insane. 

I suppose the city will appoint a task force and a couple of shopkeepers will get pinched but they are pretty unlikely to end the black market on smokes any time soon because there is just too much money in it.

Like I said earlier, governments create their own crime waves.

I suppose you could also say they create business opportunities, too. But not the kind they bargain for.




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Yesterday was NOT thank a veteran day.

Yesterday was Memorial Day and the usual group of people didn't get it and ran around thanking veterans and the usual things.

As usual it was good intentioned but they missed the point.

It's a day to remember the dead. 

If you want to thank a veteran, wait until November 11th.

As usual, the Duffel Blog posted a scorcher for Memorial Day and some people got upset about it. I'd just bet the guy that wrote it was pretty close to the tip of the spear at one time or another.

Duffel Blog Memorial Day Sale

It is a bitter, tasteless article and a lot of people were upset. I wasn't.

It was actually one of the best pieces of dark humor I have seen in some time. It stabs at American commercialism.

Wanna have a Veterans Day sale? 

Fine. Leave Memorial Day alone.

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One of my first childhood memories what back in 1956 when Etrusco ran aground

near the Cedar Point lighthouse in Scituate, MA.

I was a very small child and my parents had just bought the house I grew up in the next town over. The town is Marshfield.

Etrusco ran aground in March of 1956 and was stuck aground for several months until they managed to get her refloated after several Herculean tries.

If I am not mistaken, it was one of the last times the Coast Guard has used a breeches bouy to rescue anyone as they used one to evacuate the ship once she was firmly aground.

What interested me about it is that the people in Scituate opened their doors to these crewman, all of whom were Italians and practically none of them spoke English. 

One little old lady had been born in Italy and had naturalized so she was basically the interpreter for some time.

It took months to refloat her and they salvage crews included some of the people that managed to refloat out Navy after Pearl Harbor but they got her refloated again and took her to a Boston shipyard for repairs.

She went ashore St. Patrick's Day eve and was refloated on Thanksgiving, if my memory serves me.

Every so often I return to Boston's South Shore and stumble into Scituate harbor and look for things and notice the changes.

If I am lucky I meet someone I know and we chat. 

The last time I was there I met someone and their neighbor asked how long ago I used to live in the area.

I grinned and held up my hand and said I had laid it on Etrusco.

That unequivocally made me senior man there.

Etrusco was a WW2 freighter the Maritime Commission gave to Italy after the war to help the battered Italian economy get on their feet. When she was refloated she was renamed 'Scituate' by the grateful shipowners.

If you want to, you can Google around and find out all about her.

Try 'Etrusco Scituate'.




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Yesterday I crossed swords with the jerk down the road.

Twice.

The first was in the morning while I was doing my annual spring planting. I was using a half-gallon Jim Beam bottle for my iced tea and he wandered by.

The kid across the street saw him first and came over like a shot because he doesn't like the old bastard, either.

When the old bastard was passing in front of my yard the kid picked up the Beam bottle and sucked down about 12 ounces of iced tea. The old man started to pitch a fit. He babbled all sorts of angry stuff about giving liquor to kids.

Of course, I told him that the poor kid was just trying to wash the dope out of his system and to give him a break.

He got angrier until I pointed out that the kid must have a hollow leg if he can pound down 12 ounces of 86 proof liquor without effect.

That's when he figured out he's been had and he walked away snarling.

The next time we crossed swords was a few hours later when I went out to pick something up. I was driving the Miata. I drive that slower than I do the pickup, especially on the street I live on. For what it's worth I drive everything slowly on that street because it is the responsible thing to do.

Anyway, I went around the corner and the old bastard yelled at me to slow down. I was doing a mile or two under the speed limit when he did this.

This guy is the older guy that mows his lawn about four or five times a week and has bugged me about joining the HOA which has caused sparks to fly. 

I stopped and approached him and he looked shocked. Most likely because every he has yelled at just kept on driving.

I got out and told him I was driving responsibly and if he didn't like it he should call the police and offered him my cell phone. He stood there not knowing what to do.

Then I hit a pretty sore subject. He gets hit pretty hard on Halloween.

I told him that the reason he wakes up on November first to having to clean up a mess of toilet paper, eggs and paint on his lawn is his own doing. He reaps what he sows. Then I pointed out that the Roundup people now have a defoliant that lasts for a full year and if he keeps being so cranky he's likely to wind up with half his lawn reduced to black, sterile earth compliments of the neighborhood kids.

He's not too likely to change but I would imagine he'll keep clear of me for a while.

Still, he's stupid. He'll keep after the neighborhood kids and wind up with another mess to clean up come November first.





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Shot a match today

391 out of a possible 400 with a halfway decent X count.

I was sort of out of my league today because a couple of hotshots showed up with some pretty damned accurate and expansive rifles.

I did OK, though.




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Yesterday I finished the yard work and had a few flowers left over.

I brought them across the street to my six year-old sweetie and we planted them in her flower bed. 

Kids at that age are a trip. She's both fascinated by some things and indifferent to others. She was fascinated by the planting. When we were done planting I told her to water them often. 

"If I remember," she said and shuffled off.



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Another overcast day and I wonder what the summer is going to be like.

We have just weathered a nasty, cold winter and this spring is just plain weird. It's been overcast the past few days. My flower beds were chock-a-block  crammed with thistle which is unheard of. It took a whole day to weed and clean them out.

I can't seem to figure it out.

In other news I replaced the toilet on the main floor. The old one worked great but it has a pressure tank in it and seeing how it is getting old there are a lot of recalls and warnings about it because the plastic tank gets brittle and can burst. I liked the toilet but I can't risk having a water damage situation on my hands.

The new one seems OK. Last night I ate an entire galley sink pizza and a couple of beers and this morning the new toilet passed the pizza and beer test with flying colors.

I'm not getting rid of the plunger, though.

A friend of mine is headed to Europe and asked me to make a metal pouch for his passport which I did. I used a piece of aluminum flashing. Apparently there are rumors floating around about some technology that can steal credit card and passport data. 

I can see going to Europe but I can not see landing in France for a 4 hour layover. It makes no sense to me at all. I really do not care for the French a whole lot.

My favorite French story is the one where French customs were rude to a WW2 paratrooper because he didn't have his passport out fast enough. The old coot pointed out that the last time he entered France that his passport was an M-1 rifle and there wasn't a single Frenchman willing to examine it.

There's really not much French customs could do but stand there looking stupid.

Somewhere along the line I read where the NAACP raised hell with the Disney people when they were going to re-release 'Song of the South' a while ago. I wondered about that. It made little sense to me because the Disney people certainly work hard at making wholesome entertainment. 

I saw the movie as a small child but that muse have been well over 50 years ago and I do not remember a whole lot of the details.

My guess is that the NAACP is either simply looking for something to whine about or rewrite history.

Anyway, I found a copy on CD from a semi-underground source an I'm going to watch it and see for myself. 

I'll make up my own mind.


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"If you are in your mid 20s and still flipping burgers and are NOT

either in college or some apprenticeship program that will get you a way to make a decent living then something is wrong with you."

So said a plumber I know.

It really makes sense. There is opportunity out there. 

I watched a guy get out of the Marine Corps a while ago and take a minimum wage job for a very brief period of time until he could get into an apprenticeship program. 

It didn't take a whole lot of time for him to decide that the apprenticeship was in a trade that was pretty seasonal and he decided to try for something a little better.

Right now he's in a training program learning to be a state policeman and I'd bet we're going to wind up with a pretty good state cop out on the streets when he graduates.

I'm getting burned out on hearing all of this raise the minimum wage crap going on right now. Old Jug ears in the White House seems to think that this will make everything all right.

Now burger flippers will be able to afford a house in the suburbs with a pretty little picket fence around it is what he seems to think.

Truth is the price of the house is just going to rise in proportion to the rise of the minimum wage and the minimum wage earners are still going to be living in the same place they are now.

The only thing that is going to change is the price of everything which will rise to keep things at status quo.

Of course the responsible people that saved will see the value of their saving shrink but that's to be expected. The responsible people in this country generally are the ones to get the shaft.

The truth of the matter is that it isn't the responsibility of the government to hand out pay raises by raising the minimum wage. It's the responsibility of the individual to take it upon himself to make himself more valuable.








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Another day another dime.

And spring has sprung but it is a chilly one and I have things to do.

I spent part of yesterday weeding and have more to do. Thistle has seemed it have invaded this year. It reminds me of the year we got invaded by chipmunks and I had to take them out with a pellet gun. 

I sat on the back porch one night and got nearly a dozen of them.

As I sit here there's a doe about 30 feet away munching on leaves and looking at me through the window. The doe is pregnant and will likely give birth in a spot about 40 or 50 feet from my house.

I do believe that if I worked at it I could get that doe to eat out of my hand.

What graceful animals they are to watch.

I was talking with one of the neighborhood kids last night and he was interested in learning celestial navigation so I said I'd teach him because he seems to be ahead in math.

He's also pretty solid in science so he'll have no problem with the mechanics of it.

Celestial is nothing more than spherical triangulation and it'll be a little advanced placement for a 5th grader but with some work I can teach him to at least use an idiot sheet.

Over the next couple of years I'll teach him to do it from scratch.

I think we'll use the air tables and kill 2 stones with the same bird. If he learns it with the air tables he can use it for a pilot's license and shoot for a navigator rating.






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Damned hippie couple got on my nerves yesterday.

Which is par golf.

I like those fools. They make me laugh.

They run their mouths about this, that and the other and how evil General Motors is yet they are in college their father is paying for with money he makes working for GM.

In short, they are biting the hand that feeds them.

Anyway it was outside of Wallyworld and he was babbling about income inequity or something along those lines and I told him to get a job and earn a little income himself.

He told me that instant karma was going to get me.

I told him that instant karma was one of the problems we have now. Everyone want it now. I suppose we have microwaveable karma on the shelf somewhere. Let's see, now. There's quick karma, instant karma, microwaveable karma available but there are not a whole lot of people out there that understand Old School karma.

You make that from scratch and it takes a lifetime.






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I am still a Luddite

I have had a recurring nightmare over the years. It seems to have gone away except for very rarely. It usually happens after I have been exposed to an overload of technology or something along there lines.

I spent Friday at the Dayton Hamvention and thought it would occur Friday night. I was honestly surprised when I woke up yesterday morning that it hadn't happened again.

The dream is that I am in New York City of all God forsaken places. I do something that winds up being considered heroic even though it isn't and in the process my pickup gets destroyed.

The Mayor wants to make a big to-do and offers to replace my truck which I consider fair enough. I simply ask that it be replaced with exactly what I lost. I drive a 4 cylinder, manual transmission very basic small pickup, a Toyota.

Instead they try force-feed me with a humongous Dodge Ram with a monster V-8, an automatic transmission and everything you can imagine. 

It is the antithisis of what I am in this life. I am a simple person.
I refuse publicly and simply start to walk off. The humiliated mayor is aghast and cannot understand why I am not interested in 4 block long deer slayer/squirrel squasher. He stops me and tries to force me into accepting it and I flat out refuse. He is shocked and asks me why I don't want it.

I explain that I can't afford the gas, I can't afford the maintenance, the thing is too big for me to comfortably drive. Parking it is a major chore, I don't know how to use half of the accessories and don't want them to begin with.

Accepting it will put me in another tax bracket, the insurance will be astronomical and I'll need a step ladder to get into it.

So the idiot mayor decides that maybe if I had a better job I could afford it and he offers me a job in Manhattan, making the situation worse when I refuse. If I had wanted such a job I would have gone to college and gotten one. Manhattan is the LAST place I want to live or work.

So now they decide something is wrong with me and I wind up talking to some shrink that comes to the conclusion that nothing is wrong with me at all. I'm just a simple, basically happy person.

The mayor finally gives up and gets the Toyota dealer to give me what I want and I drive off in a 4 cylinder, manual transmission, roll-up windowed Tacoma. The cheapest, simplest pickup on the lot and I get into it and haul ass out of New York, never to return.

Anyway, I just left Hamvention in Dayton, Ohio after spending a day rooting around it a world of technology and felt overwhelmed. I suppose a guy can set up two transceivers on opposite ends of the planet and a computer in the middle and talk to himself if he wants.
The technology there was overwhelming and I was astonished.

Much of this is the antithisis of what I want out of the hobby. I am basically a Luddite as far as things go.

Still, I managed because my Handy-Talkie was broken and I have to send it out for repairs and I bought one of those new to the market Chinese HTs to replace it while mine is in for repairs.

I was afraid of programming it, but decided to figure it out. 

Programming it by hand is a bitch so I spent the extra couple of bucks for a programming cord and downloaded the programming software and managed to get it up and running in a little under an hour.

That's not bad for a Luddite like me.

When I got the original HT I had someone program it for me. I had tried for hours and offered some beer to anothe ham. He set it up for me. 

After a while I wanted to add a couple more channels so I bought the cable and software and re-programmed the whole thing. It programmed fast and easy using the laptop.

Still, if I had to program something like that by hand I would be lost. Much of this menu driven ham gear these days is terribly complex to set up. Long time HT guys told me that they program 40 or 50 channels when they get the unit and a couple months later after they want to add another channel or two they have to get out the book and start at Square One again.

I'm just glad I was able to get mine programmed with the laptop. I'd still be trying to figure it out.

Any you guys used to think that setting a clock on a VCR was bad.


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Rolling home today after spending the day at Hamfest, Dayton

I'll catch up then.


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Rolling today

HAMFEST IS A COUPLE HOURS FROM HOME SO i'M ON THE ROAD AND CAPS LOCK SUCKS.


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Home again, home again, jiggidy jig

I took the scenic route and it took a while but I was glad I did go that way.

Crew change was early for a change and there were choices. I pretty much set the GPS to avoid highways, tolls and U-turns and wandered through the state that way.

I got to roll through a lot of Pennsylvania Dutch country and from time to time had to adjust my driving to the local condition of having horse and buggys to deal with. 

I'm protected by about 2 tons of steel but a Dutchman is protected by about a quarter of an inch of plywood. 

There have been automobile/buggy discussions before and I have never heard of a Dutchman winning one.  Generally they take second place and are lucky to be alive afterwards.

Having to put down an injured horse isn't and fun to watch, either. 

I stopped in Chambersburg when I saw a barbershop and decided to get my hair cut as sort of a break. Pompy's barbershop. Great place, great haircut. He appeared to cater heavily to Hispanics, at least when I was there.

Pro tip: If you want an excellent haircut by a real artist then generally a shop that caters heavily to Black and Hispanics is the place to go. Many minorities take haircuts very seriously.

Some to the point where they want their initials or some other design or logo cut into their hair. It's a pretty big thing.

Someone explained it to me as part of the $300 pair of sneakers mentality. Appearance is everything.

I watched the barber cut the head in front of me and he was an artist as opposed to a tradesman. 

Of course the difference between a good haircut and a bad one is about 2 weeks. I suppose in a couple of weeks nobody will know the difference. Still, it was good getting the ears lowered in that place.

Incidentally I did not know that Chambersburg has such a large Hispanic population. 

I suppose some people would be uncomfortable in a situation where they were the only white guy but I certainly wasn't. I told the story about speaking High School Spanish in mexico and trying to order a steak and fries only to have the waiter cart over a baked stuffed elephant.

The guy I told the story to told it to a Mexican kid who spoke no English. The Mexican kid said something to me that was translated. He offered to let me join the local Liar's club.

When I told him I would if they'd let me tell my tale last because the first guy at a Liar's club meeting to tell his tale doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell. When it was translated to him he thought it was a pretty good answer.

I ate at a pretty good diner along the way and I can't tell you where it was. Just somewhere between Chambersburg and Breezewood. Pretty good eating.

Outside of Breezewood I saw a sign advertising maple syrup and stopped. It was a Pennsylvania Dutch family, not Amish nor Mennonite. The maple syrup stand was a sidebar of a cabinet shop.

These were plain people, but were permitted the use of electricity but no radio, TV, home phone or internet.

The young man I spoke with was actually the son of the homeowner and a couple of his kid sisters wandered by and were kind of flirty shy that all little girls display. They were cute and I noticed they were wearing home made dresses but in printed patterns. True Amish wear plainer clothes.

Amish women are for the most part damned clothes makers.

I didn't have enough loose cash to snag any syrup and they didn't take VISA but I didn't leave empty handed. The Dutchman gave me some maple spread to try out. In return I'm supposed to drop him a line telling him if it is any good or not. He said it was an experiment.

After I left there I noticed that time was getting away from me so I changed the GPS to simply 'avoid toll roads and U-turns' and ran home from there.

I generally do well being an easy rider type traveling through small towns and places and find it enjoyable. I never know what I am going to find next. I'm glad I decided to avoid the turnpike for a while.

Incidentally, gas was a wash. I figured that the slower driving between towns made my mileage a little better because I wasn't moving as much air out of the way that I do running 70 mph plus on the pike.






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Big day coming so here's tomorrow's post an evening early.

As I write this I am sitting here watching my mate make the usual crew change preperations. We're getting ready to go home and have a long day ahead of us. Well be on the move the entire day.

Right now he's making a gargantuan breakfast that should hold us until well past noon. We're talking hash and eggs here, and the size of the plates is humongous.

There is not a whole lot that is better to have on the onset of a long day that is better than a pile of hash and s couple of eggs. The only thing I can think of that lasts longer is biscuits and gravy the way I make it. One of the guys calls my recipe 'buscuits and glue' because it stick to your ribs.

Still, a mountain of hash should serve well.

The mate has already made the usual crew change sandwiches made. All hands get three sandwiches that they take with them for the ride home.

Most of us in this business have long rides ahead of us.

The mechanics of this crew change are that the oncoming crew will be taken to New York by van where they will be taken by launch to the vessel. We will simply do the reverse.

When we are returned to headquarters we pick up our vehicles or get transportation to planes, trains or buses. 

A small handful of guys are home within a short period of time. Most of us have longer drives. Mine is between 5 and 7 hours depending on any number of variables.

These days I take a route across Pennsylvania other than the turnpike because when you couple costs, construction zones, a $31 toll and general aggravation it is worth the extra 45 minutes driving time.

The 45 minutes driving time is often a misnomer anyway because it is based on GPS calculations the don't take construction and other factors into consideration.

Adding a $31 toll into the factor for the privilige of driving on the worst turnpike in the country makes it worth the extra three-quarters of an hour.

In short, I have a long day ahead of me and I'm damned grateful to have a pretty good partner.



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I have written that every Alaskan bar had a cribbage board in it

 and I remember the time a woman was waiting for someone to show up. Bars were and likely still are popular meeting places on the Last Frontier.

Anyway, she saw me sitting there and asked me if I played cribbage and inside a couple of seconds cards were shuffled we were playing cribbage. She introduced herself as Jinka which much later I found out was a childhood nickname she preferred to be called.

It was nothing more than a couple of people whiling away a little time while they were waiting for something. I was waiting for my friend, Doc to show up and she was waiting for someone she was hiring to do some electrical work for her to show up.

She seemed to be an attractive, intelligent, decent woman that was quick to laugh and seemed to have a pretty good droll sense of humor.

Anyway, we were sitting there playing cribbage when her ex husband walked in. I knew him somewhat. His name was Mike. I did not know Jinka was his ex-wife. He was a halfway  decent guy sober but when he got toasted he was a loudmouth and often a jerk.

Neither of us noticed that he had walked in and I suppose neither of us cared as we were busy counting cards.

Then he went to the bar and said something to the bartender.

Jinka heard it and softly groaned. 

A second later he spotted the pair of us from across the bar and looked at me.

"How do you like that worn out old thing between my ex-old lady's legs?" he shouted over to me. It was a truly vile thing to say.

"Wouldn't know," I replied, dryly. "Haven't had the honor, but if I had to venture a guess I wouldn't have a very hard time getting through the used part." Then I returned to my cards, ignoring him.

It took a second or two to punch through his alcohol induced fog and I'm sure it was aided by the laughter of the entire bar which had several patrons in it at the time. Several of them later told me they had never seen Mike speechless before.

His jaw hit the floor, he turned purple. He headed toward me.

"Everyone here now just thinks you're stupid. Now you are coming over here to prove them right," I said.

I got up and faced him. He was coming around the bar and when he saw me he decided that all he could do was make things worse for himself. I guessed he knew he had already made a damned fool of himself and was just making it worse.

Instead of turning right toward me, he turned left and walked out the main door.

I returned and continued the card game and saw the look of absolute gratitude on Jinka's face. We continued the game and when we were dealing up the next game she told me that I was invited to dinner at her place the following evening. I accepted.

She told me I was one cool hand. The game was fortunately  interrupted by her electrician showing up and they left. That's when the shakes started. It took a couple shots to settle down. That guy could have easily taken me.

After dinner the following evening I found out that one of my guesses the previous day at the bar had been spot on.

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