starting to play the race card over the recent election.
When you're on the ropes and it looks like you're going down it's time to whip out the tired old race card. It used to work lie a charm.
Not so much any more as it has been overplayed time and again. People are tired of it. They're also tired of being called names like racist and bigot simply because they don't like someone's politics. That $hit don't flush anymore.
The truth of the matter is that American public recently decided they were fed up with the man's incompetence and socialistic ways. They elected a Republican congress not because Americans are Republicans at heart. They're not.
They voted a Republican congress out of desperation. They felt that the president is a failure. It is as simple as that. He failed and the public voted him a hostile congress to block him from further damage. It is as simple as that.
Of course, the race card has come out and some liberals are whining that the issue is that the people that voted to hobble the president are racists. Of course, by that logic the bulk of Americans are racists flocking to Walmart to buy sheets for the next KKK rally.
Perhaps Wally World will put pretty pastel Martha Stewart type colored sheets on sale and we can have a kinder, more tolerant Klan this time around. I kind of like pastel pink but that is just me. I like pink as I have said many times before.
The truth is that the president has failed as a leader. It's as simple as that. It has nothing to do with race. It has everything to do with failed policies.
I can't for the life of me figure out why liberals want to deny the president one of his God given rights.
They are denying the president the right to fail.
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
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Friday, November 7, 2014
One of the things I see now is that some Democrats are trying to play the tired,
well worn out race card over the recent election.
I saw somewhere where some high percentage of black supposedly think that the results of the election prove that most Americans are racist. You mean the majority of Americans are Klansmen? As I sit here writing this I wonder about the members of the black community that voted Republican. Do they get issued Klan outfits, too? I hope so.
Twice in my life I have seen black arms sticking out of Klan outfits. Once was on the Mel Brooks classic Blazing Saddles and the other time was one Halloween in Kodiak. When I saw it in Blazing Saddles I laughed instantly.
When I saw it in Kodiak it took a minute. I was seriously offended until I realized something was wrong with the picture. Then I saw the arm and realized it was a black man in the costume and I shook my head and realized that the only black person in town that was nutty enough do something like that was Alan. I howled. Alan was a character.
When they do hand the Klan suits out I am going to pay close attention to one Mia Love and one Tom Scott. Both of whom were issued black skin by their makers.
This ought to be pretty good seeing Tom donning the uniform of the Ku Klux Klan.
While I have seen both a black actor and a black commercial fisherman in such an outfit I can't wait to see a United States Senator wearing the colors of America's premier hate organization.
This ought to be good for a laugh.
As for Representative Mia Love, I don't expect to see her in uniform because as a rule they don't put women into the ranks of the Klan as far as I know.
It's too bad, too. After all I think that it would be rather humorous seeing a slender pair of arms, a woman's hand and manicured nails sticking out of such a costume.
Incidentally I have heard that Utah, where Love was elected, has a reputation for being a pretty racist state. If that is true than a lot of bigots held their noses and voted for her because they were desperate to put the president in check.
Either Utah is not as racist as people think or people in Utah were pretty desperate to slap the president down.
While we're at it, I saw something on Facebook saying that maybe under Republican leadership we can keep the dream of Martin Luther King alive.
Frankly I don't see it. There is still too much money to be made in racism. (Look at Al Sharpton) It's too hot of an issue and if the Republicans jump into that that one they'll likely be crucified.
The truth is that in order to see the dream live we're going to have to get rid of things like set-asides and special minority programs so as to be able to truly treat everyone equally and return to a strict meritocracy.
It's not likely to happen as the liberal spin doctors will slam conservatives by using the elimination of minority set-asides as proof positive of racism. Of course, it's bull$hit.
We're not going to even begin to see the dream lived until we're all held to the same standard.
That's not likely to happen in the near future, though.
The liberals seem to feel a need to (what Kipling referred to) as pick up white man's burden and help their poor little brown brothers and sisters along because they believe they are incapable of taking care of themselves. They have no faith in them and look at them as inferiors.
I don't. I look at all people as being equals. I have faith in people. I think that minorities can do just as well as anyone else if they put their minds to it. I learned that years ago in the service when I served under some damned good NCOs that happened to be minorities.
Incidentally I think that the minority NCOs I served under made their careers in the service because it was pretty much a meritocracy. They liked being judged as soldiers without regard to their minority status.
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
Thursday, November 6, 2014
The Republicans are in now and I'll bet 100 internets
That they don't even make it to January without one of them shooting his mouth off and saying something stupid.
A while ago I watched Rick Santorum go from a shoo-in for the oval office to third runner-up in the local election for dog catcher in a period of just a couple of weeks. He did it all by himself and needed no help from anybody.
Some newly elected senator or representative is going to say something like "A woman can't get pregnant from rape" or he'll want married gays to wear pink T-shirts. Generally the stupidity will come from a moral issue of some sort. Something the government has no business getting into in the first place.
Generally this will come from a Republican that either is or is on the pad of the Christian coalition. Barry Goldwater was right when he said that the Republican party letting the Christian coalition in would be the end of the conservative movement.
He was right and since the Republicans got into bed with the Christian coalition they have suffered.
The Republicans would be a whole lot better off if they stopped trying to legislate morality and went back to taking care of the business end of things.
People don't like to see morality legislated. They feel it is none of the governments business. Yet time and again the Republicans stick their nose where it is not wanted and time and again they get slapped hard at the polls.
The truth is that the other day Americans didn't vote FOR the Republicans because they support their platform. They voted Republican because the alternative was worse.
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
A while ago I watched Rick Santorum go from a shoo-in for the oval office to third runner-up in the local election for dog catcher in a period of just a couple of weeks. He did it all by himself and needed no help from anybody.
Some newly elected senator or representative is going to say something like "A woman can't get pregnant from rape" or he'll want married gays to wear pink T-shirts. Generally the stupidity will come from a moral issue of some sort. Something the government has no business getting into in the first place.
Generally this will come from a Republican that either is or is on the pad of the Christian coalition. Barry Goldwater was right when he said that the Republican party letting the Christian coalition in would be the end of the conservative movement.
He was right and since the Republicans got into bed with the Christian coalition they have suffered.
The Republicans would be a whole lot better off if they stopped trying to legislate morality and went back to taking care of the business end of things.
People don't like to see morality legislated. They feel it is none of the governments business. Yet time and again the Republicans stick their nose where it is not wanted and time and again they get slapped hard at the polls.
The truth is that the other day Americans didn't vote FOR the Republicans because they support their platform. They voted Republican because the alternative was worse.
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
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Well, yesterday was a blood bath for the Democrats.
and of course the Republicans are gloating about how it means the people have embraced their party. Of course, it is a crock.
This election wasn't about the people getting behind the Republican party at all. It was simply about the people being sick and tired of Obama's lack of leadership and failed and failing policies.
The American people did this to put the president in check.
Of course the president will look out and say 'The Republicans did this and the Republicans are doing that' because he wants someone to blame. The next two years will consist of the president blaming Republicans for everything.
Truth is the president should look at the American public. They are the ones that expressed their contempt of him by handing him a Republican congress to deal with.
The truth is it isn't the Republicans being so wonderful. They are just being used as a tool to block further efforts of the executive branch.
The people in general don't like the Republican party. They don't like the Democrats, either. The truth is that we have two parties in this country. The Republicans represent the rich and the Democrats represent the low-life.
Neither of them represent the middle class.
To GOP leadership, I say this.
Get on the stick, get your heads out of your ass and start taking care of our shrinking middle class or you'll get voted out of office as fast as they voted the Democrats out yesterday. The next election isn't very far away.
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
This election wasn't about the people getting behind the Republican party at all. It was simply about the people being sick and tired of Obama's lack of leadership and failed and failing policies.
The American people did this to put the president in check.
Of course the president will look out and say 'The Republicans did this and the Republicans are doing that' because he wants someone to blame. The next two years will consist of the president blaming Republicans for everything.
Truth is the president should look at the American public. They are the ones that expressed their contempt of him by handing him a Republican congress to deal with.
The truth is it isn't the Republicans being so wonderful. They are just being used as a tool to block further efforts of the executive branch.
The people in general don't like the Republican party. They don't like the Democrats, either. The truth is that we have two parties in this country. The Republicans represent the rich and the Democrats represent the low-life.
Neither of them represent the middle class.
To GOP leadership, I say this.
Get on the stick, get your heads out of your ass and start taking care of our shrinking middle class or you'll get voted out of office as fast as they voted the Democrats out yesterday. The next election isn't very far away.
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
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
So it is Tuesday. I got something to do today.
besides vote.
It's 0630 and still dark. The deer just turned on the motion detector and they were not startled. They are likely used to it.
Yesterday I spotted a doe that had been hit by a car about a mile from here and can't help wonder if it is one of the animals that cut through my yard. I hope not. I like watching them.
I spent yesterday doing a deep clean on the living room and it is astonishing how much dirt, dust and crud accumulates. The nastiest part was taking apart the couch. The tucks and folds held a lot of cat hair which is to be expected if you have a cat.
Cat hair is a bitch to clean up.
I just bought an anti-mole propeller and set it up in the yard. It's a sort of windmill that is supposed to create a vibration in the ground that moles hate. For ten bucks we'll try it out and see what happens.
My guess is that it will keep moles away from it for a radius of about ten or twelve feet and that's about it. Still, it's worth a try. I'll report back next spring.
We're well into November and have not had a hard frost yet which makes me wonder what the winter will be like. I really have no clue and have given up trying to predict the winter weather.
Incidentally the closest predictor out there seems to be The Old Farmer's Almanac for some reason. For that reason I think if there is reincarnation I'll come back as a weather man. I can be wrong over 50% of the time and still keep my job.
Speaking of weather men, I recall an old Indian back in Alaska that used to come into the bar in the mornings and drink coffee. Most of the fishermen would ask him about the weather for the next few days and he seemed to be pretty good at predicting it.
One night he came downtown and got thwacked and I decided to haul him home after he got his snoot full. I had to help him in and as soon as he got in he reached around and clicked a Radio Shack weather cube that was on a table. It was tuned to the NOAA VHF weather frequency.
Then he looked at me conspiratorially and said, "I have to check the weather for when I go downtown tomorrow morning. Everyone asks me and I have to know what it is going to do."
I never did rat the old guy out for that one.
Incidentally he's the guy that taught me how to cure my foot rot. I won't post how here. Suffice to say traditional western medicos will tell you it's an old wive's tale.
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
It's 0630 and still dark. The deer just turned on the motion detector and they were not startled. They are likely used to it.
Yesterday I spotted a doe that had been hit by a car about a mile from here and can't help wonder if it is one of the animals that cut through my yard. I hope not. I like watching them.
I spent yesterday doing a deep clean on the living room and it is astonishing how much dirt, dust and crud accumulates. The nastiest part was taking apart the couch. The tucks and folds held a lot of cat hair which is to be expected if you have a cat.
Cat hair is a bitch to clean up.
I just bought an anti-mole propeller and set it up in the yard. It's a sort of windmill that is supposed to create a vibration in the ground that moles hate. For ten bucks we'll try it out and see what happens.
My guess is that it will keep moles away from it for a radius of about ten or twelve feet and that's about it. Still, it's worth a try. I'll report back next spring.
We're well into November and have not had a hard frost yet which makes me wonder what the winter will be like. I really have no clue and have given up trying to predict the winter weather.
Incidentally the closest predictor out there seems to be The Old Farmer's Almanac for some reason. For that reason I think if there is reincarnation I'll come back as a weather man. I can be wrong over 50% of the time and still keep my job.
Speaking of weather men, I recall an old Indian back in Alaska that used to come into the bar in the mornings and drink coffee. Most of the fishermen would ask him about the weather for the next few days and he seemed to be pretty good at predicting it.
One night he came downtown and got thwacked and I decided to haul him home after he got his snoot full. I had to help him in and as soon as he got in he reached around and clicked a Radio Shack weather cube that was on a table. It was tuned to the NOAA VHF weather frequency.
Then he looked at me conspiratorially and said, "I have to check the weather for when I go downtown tomorrow morning. Everyone asks me and I have to know what it is going to do."
I never did rat the old guy out for that one.
Incidentally he's the guy that taught me how to cure my foot rot. I won't post how here. Suffice to say traditional western medicos will tell you it's an old wive's tale.
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
Monday, November 3, 2014
American Movie Classics strikes again.
Yesterday I was wearing my fedora into the local supermarket and a kid about 12 or so saw it and said, "Nice lid."
My guess is he picked the term up from an old movie as I have not heard a fedora called a lid in decades. Maybe the last time was in the comics when Knucklehead took a shot at Dick Tracy and knocked his hat off. That must have been in the early 60s.
It isn't the first time I've had some kid a half century younger than me say something to me out of the 30s or 40s. A couple years back a really leggy woman in a short skirt wandered past and a kid looked at me and commented, "Hey, Mac! Check out the gams on that tomato over there."
Yesterday I set my clocks back and it wasn't too bad. I have this atomic clock that I keep set on UTC and every six months I have to reset it because it doesn't actually have a UTC option. I have to swap time zones on it to make it work right.
In other gnus I got whacked with one of those little virus type things that takes over your computer and managed to get rid of it by using system restore. I restored my computer to a day or two before I picked it up and I'm now good to go.
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
My guess is he picked the term up from an old movie as I have not heard a fedora called a lid in decades. Maybe the last time was in the comics when Knucklehead took a shot at Dick Tracy and knocked his hat off. That must have been in the early 60s.
It isn't the first time I've had some kid a half century younger than me say something to me out of the 30s or 40s. A couple years back a really leggy woman in a short skirt wandered past and a kid looked at me and commented, "Hey, Mac! Check out the gams on that tomato over there."
Yesterday I set my clocks back and it wasn't too bad. I have this atomic clock that I keep set on UTC and every six months I have to reset it because it doesn't actually have a UTC option. I have to swap time zones on it to make it work right.
In other gnus I got whacked with one of those little virus type things that takes over your computer and managed to get rid of it by using system restore. I restored my computer to a day or two before I picked it up and I'm now good to go.
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, November 2, 2014
One of the things I see is the Department of Education
which doesn't do anything but hand out federal money to schools to force them to follow their agenda.
We'd be a lot better off as a people if we'd abolish the department of education and put education back where it belongs. It belongs on a state or county level.
I think an example of local education fitting local needs took place at a local community college in the south a while back. A large company was considering relocating there and as a result the local community college offered to open a program to train machinists for the company. Sounds kind of like win/win to me.
Generally when the feds do something with their one size fits all attitude they are likely to step in and notice the shortage of air conditioning repair people in Nome, Alaska and insist the local community colleges start popping them out. Or insist that the Florida Keys need heating repair people, things of that nature.
Let's face it, the Department of Education is politically driven. It serves no real purpose but to bully the states by threatening to withdraw federal funding if the states don't kowtow to their little agenda.
There is a lot of education out there that is pretty localized when you think about it. Nobody in Maine needs to learn how to grow oranges. Nobody in Florida needs to learn how to catch lobsters.
I suppose it would be handy, as an example, for a farmer to learn how to weld steel. If he knows how he can probably do equipment repairs. A basic welding course might do him good.
On the other hand, he really doesn't need to learn the fine points of inert gas welding and that sort of thing just to keep the corn binder up and running. The finer points would likely be needed by shipyard workers or other manufacturing types.
A community college course in Iowa would likely be different than one run in Norfolk, Virginia.
Education is supposed to full a need for knowledge. It is supposed to teach people how to do things. If you can't use it it's, by definition, useless. There are not a whole lot of PhDs running around that could last a week in the Australian outback, yet the indigenous people there have lived there for centuries.
It's because the Australian bush man educational system covers local needs. The universities don't. Of course the bushmen in the Australian outback are not likely to do too well on an SAT.
Still, I suppose knowing how to find water in the outback isn't going to do a university grad a whole lot of good when you think about it.
Another thing about the Department of Education is that it is just too damned political. A lot of the money winds up in someone's pocket. Some of it is used to pay teachers. That should be done locally based on what the market will bear.
Incidentally I don't want to listen to the glorification of school teachers and how great they are. That grows old fast.
Anyone that has served in the military has likely been trained in one or more of the various MOS schools. The teachers for the most part are simply NCOs with experience in their field. Some of these are high school grads and I'd bet there are a few GEDs and maybe even a dropout or two among them. Few have degrees.
Yet these NCOs do a wonderful job of teaching a soldier a skill.
Public schoolteachers are not really all they are cracked up to be.
It's time for the states and counties to take education back and localize it to make it more useful. One thing that has to happen is to get rid of federal level educational funds.
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
We'd be a lot better off as a people if we'd abolish the department of education and put education back where it belongs. It belongs on a state or county level.
I think an example of local education fitting local needs took place at a local community college in the south a while back. A large company was considering relocating there and as a result the local community college offered to open a program to train machinists for the company. Sounds kind of like win/win to me.
Generally when the feds do something with their one size fits all attitude they are likely to step in and notice the shortage of air conditioning repair people in Nome, Alaska and insist the local community colleges start popping them out. Or insist that the Florida Keys need heating repair people, things of that nature.
Let's face it, the Department of Education is politically driven. It serves no real purpose but to bully the states by threatening to withdraw federal funding if the states don't kowtow to their little agenda.
There is a lot of education out there that is pretty localized when you think about it. Nobody in Maine needs to learn how to grow oranges. Nobody in Florida needs to learn how to catch lobsters.
I suppose it would be handy, as an example, for a farmer to learn how to weld steel. If he knows how he can probably do equipment repairs. A basic welding course might do him good.
On the other hand, he really doesn't need to learn the fine points of inert gas welding and that sort of thing just to keep the corn binder up and running. The finer points would likely be needed by shipyard workers or other manufacturing types.
A community college course in Iowa would likely be different than one run in Norfolk, Virginia.
Education is supposed to full a need for knowledge. It is supposed to teach people how to do things. If you can't use it it's, by definition, useless. There are not a whole lot of PhDs running around that could last a week in the Australian outback, yet the indigenous people there have lived there for centuries.
It's because the Australian bush man educational system covers local needs. The universities don't. Of course the bushmen in the Australian outback are not likely to do too well on an SAT.
Still, I suppose knowing how to find water in the outback isn't going to do a university grad a whole lot of good when you think about it.
Another thing about the Department of Education is that it is just too damned political. A lot of the money winds up in someone's pocket. Some of it is used to pay teachers. That should be done locally based on what the market will bear.
Incidentally I don't want to listen to the glorification of school teachers and how great they are. That grows old fast.
Anyone that has served in the military has likely been trained in one or more of the various MOS schools. The teachers for the most part are simply NCOs with experience in their field. Some of these are high school grads and I'd bet there are a few GEDs and maybe even a dropout or two among them. Few have degrees.
Yet these NCOs do a wonderful job of teaching a soldier a skill.
Public schoolteachers are not really all they are cracked up to be.
It's time for the states and counties to take education back and localize it to make it more useful. One thing that has to happen is to get rid of federal level educational funds.
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
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Almost missed a day
Woke up in a fog of sorts because I was up late last night sitting at a campfire in the neighbor's yard. I lost track of time and screwed up my routine schedule.
My wife woke me up too early and I got sidetracked a couple of times.
Tune in tomorrow.
Same time, same station.
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
My wife woke me up too early and I got sidetracked a couple of times.
Tune in tomorrow.
Same time, same station.
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
Friday, October 31, 2014
The retired strippers home
Food shopping and I was going through the checkout and as usual the clerk asked me if I wanted to contribute to the United Way and as I generally do I said that I give to the Retired Strippers Home.
She apparently wasn't too bright and asked me about the place which, of course, does not exist. I told her it was to provide for strippers when they became too old to shake their goods in front of people.
:It is a public service and saves the eyes of a lot of men because there comes a time when a stripper stops being eye candy and starts becoming an eyesore," I said. "The home gets her out of the public eye,"
The woman behind me, she looked to be about fifty, was suppressing a smirk. I turned to her and saw she was still fairly attractive.
"If you were a stripper you would be ineligible to go there," I said.
"Oh? Why is that?" she asked, somewhat warily.
"Because you're still really quite a pleasant eyeful," I said. "You have a long way to go before you're eligible."
She blushed a bit and her face lit up. "Why, thank you," she said.
About twenty minutes earlier I had crossed paths with another woman pushing a cart. While there was no near collision or anything, I was polite as I usually am. "Excuse me, young lady," I said as I crossed paths. She smiled when she hear it.
Some dopey looking guy with her spoke up. "That's my wife," he said. "What did you call her?"
"Young lady," I replied. "She's certainly younger than I am and seems to be a lady."
"Yeah," he shot back. "Well, I don't like it."
"That is because you want to sleep on the couch tonight," I replied casually and started off. I wasn't ten feet away when I heard the two of them start bickering.
"So what am I, an old broad?" I heard the woman ask her husband. She was pretty irate and embarrassed. I figured he was going to wind up on the couch. I had called that one.
A couple years back in Philly I had a similar thing happen with an Islamic woman. (They could have been Christian, Jewish or Hindu for all I cared) All I said to her was 'Excuse me," and left it at that. Her husband demanded to know what I said and I told him and he tried to say something to me about it.
"Sir, I am an American gentleman," I said. "I treat everyone including people's pets with courtesy and respect. That means everyone. Including your wife and children."
"I'm from..." he started.
I cut him off. "You're far away from there," I countered. "You're in the States now. Learn your manners. You left where you came from to come here. Learn our ways. They are the reason you came here. You didn't like the old country. If you don't like the States go back to where you came from or find somewhere else to live."
He didn't know what to say.
"We are a kind and generous people," I said. "We are either your best friend or worst enemy and the choice is generally left entirely up to you. My mother raised me to be kind and generous and the army trained me to fight for those that can't fight for themselves. How I respond to you is your choice." Then I smiled warmly.
"I'd just as soon be kind to you," I finished. "It is a whole lot easier."
I tipped my ball cap to the lady. "Good day, Ma'am," I said and turned to the man and nodded. "Good day, Sir." With that I left to go about my business.
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
She apparently wasn't too bright and asked me about the place which, of course, does not exist. I told her it was to provide for strippers when they became too old to shake their goods in front of people.
:It is a public service and saves the eyes of a lot of men because there comes a time when a stripper stops being eye candy and starts becoming an eyesore," I said. "The home gets her out of the public eye,"
The woman behind me, she looked to be about fifty, was suppressing a smirk. I turned to her and saw she was still fairly attractive.
"If you were a stripper you would be ineligible to go there," I said.
"Oh? Why is that?" she asked, somewhat warily.
"Because you're still really quite a pleasant eyeful," I said. "You have a long way to go before you're eligible."
She blushed a bit and her face lit up. "Why, thank you," she said.
About twenty minutes earlier I had crossed paths with another woman pushing a cart. While there was no near collision or anything, I was polite as I usually am. "Excuse me, young lady," I said as I crossed paths. She smiled when she hear it.
Some dopey looking guy with her spoke up. "That's my wife," he said. "What did you call her?"
"Young lady," I replied. "She's certainly younger than I am and seems to be a lady."
"Yeah," he shot back. "Well, I don't like it."
"That is because you want to sleep on the couch tonight," I replied casually and started off. I wasn't ten feet away when I heard the two of them start bickering.
"So what am I, an old broad?" I heard the woman ask her husband. She was pretty irate and embarrassed. I figured he was going to wind up on the couch. I had called that one.
A couple years back in Philly I had a similar thing happen with an Islamic woman. (They could have been Christian, Jewish or Hindu for all I cared) All I said to her was 'Excuse me," and left it at that. Her husband demanded to know what I said and I told him and he tried to say something to me about it.
"Sir, I am an American gentleman," I said. "I treat everyone including people's pets with courtesy and respect. That means everyone. Including your wife and children."
"I'm from..." he started.
I cut him off. "You're far away from there," I countered. "You're in the States now. Learn your manners. You left where you came from to come here. Learn our ways. They are the reason you came here. You didn't like the old country. If you don't like the States go back to where you came from or find somewhere else to live."
He didn't know what to say.
"We are a kind and generous people," I said. "We are either your best friend or worst enemy and the choice is generally left entirely up to you. My mother raised me to be kind and generous and the army trained me to fight for those that can't fight for themselves. How I respond to you is your choice." Then I smiled warmly.
"I'd just as soon be kind to you," I finished. "It is a whole lot easier."
I tipped my ball cap to the lady. "Good day, Ma'am," I said and turned to the man and nodded. "Good day, Sir." With that I left to go about my business.
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
Thursday, October 30, 2014
I just got me the music for my upcoming church service.
I had a kindred spirit make me a CD of some pretty good Gospel music, most of which actually comes from the black community. It's pretty lively and ought to serve for giving me a background for a pretty good tent revival type service.
What this is about is that there is a shoot of sorts I sometimes attend. The nearest neighbor is constantly calling the local law enforcement people to shut us down. They have been there any number of times and have had only good things to say about the way things are run.
The neighbor objects to the noise, apparently. Truth is he brought it on himself when the landowner bought the land. He came over and gave the new owner a hard time rather than simply trying to be civil. The issue has been in and out of court a couple of times and the neighbor has lost. The neighbor has also apparently perjured himself in his effort to get things shut down.
I suppose these things happen but what irked me at my most recent attendance were the signs the neighbor put up that I read on the way in and out. They said that we should go back the hell which is where we came from among other things. There were also references to Sunday being the Lord's day.
Apparently the neighbor fails to realize that almost all of us are basically good Judeo-Christian men even though we may not look a whole lot like it.
Incidentally, there is a church in the distance and they are inside of hearing range during the winter and fall so we secure range operations Sunday mornings until they let out.
I was offered the job of putting together a service when someone noticed the sticker on my pickup that says I am a minister. I was instantly appointed chaplain and asked to put together a service.
I agreed but made it clear that it will be a bona fide service, open to all religions and with a Judeo-Christian bent to it.
It ought to be pretty good because I plan it to be a lively service with music and an ad-lib sermon celebrating the day the Lord has given us, rain or shine.
It should serve as a reminder to the neighbor that he has no business posting those offensive signs calling us devil worshipers.
Quite frankly, I think he's going to call the police on us yet again over this but I really don't care. The right to conduct divine services is protected by the First Amendment.
To tell you the truth, I hope the police ARE called. They are getting tired of this guy and his antics and will likely take satisfaction telling him that divine services are protected by the First Amendment and to simply stop whining.
I just thought of something as I end this epistle.
I'm now a officially an appointed Sky Pilot.
Cool!
For those that are not familiar with the term, a sky pilot is a chaplain. The term comes from the Royal Navy. There were and still are people with local knowledge of certain waters that are hired to pilot ships through them. They are called ship's pilots.
Royal Navy sailors started calling chaplains sky pilots because they figured they knew the way to heaven.
It's a charming term when used in the proper context that is seldom heard anymore. It's too bad in a way.
Back when I was in the service I referred to the DivArty chaplain (a tough Jesuit, no less) as a sky pilot and he grinned. He was a tough old bird.
Also after I got out I met a retired Navy chaplain that once referred to himself as being a 25-year Navy Sky Pilot. He was pretty funny when he confessed he liked being assigned to the Marines.
"Up front, good old fashioned sinners," he grinned.
Anyway I'll keep you posted when I get around to holding my service.
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
What this is about is that there is a shoot of sorts I sometimes attend. The nearest neighbor is constantly calling the local law enforcement people to shut us down. They have been there any number of times and have had only good things to say about the way things are run.
The neighbor objects to the noise, apparently. Truth is he brought it on himself when the landowner bought the land. He came over and gave the new owner a hard time rather than simply trying to be civil. The issue has been in and out of court a couple of times and the neighbor has lost. The neighbor has also apparently perjured himself in his effort to get things shut down.
I suppose these things happen but what irked me at my most recent attendance were the signs the neighbor put up that I read on the way in and out. They said that we should go back the hell which is where we came from among other things. There were also references to Sunday being the Lord's day.
Apparently the neighbor fails to realize that almost all of us are basically good Judeo-Christian men even though we may not look a whole lot like it.
Incidentally, there is a church in the distance and they are inside of hearing range during the winter and fall so we secure range operations Sunday mornings until they let out.
I was offered the job of putting together a service when someone noticed the sticker on my pickup that says I am a minister. I was instantly appointed chaplain and asked to put together a service.
I agreed but made it clear that it will be a bona fide service, open to all religions and with a Judeo-Christian bent to it.
It ought to be pretty good because I plan it to be a lively service with music and an ad-lib sermon celebrating the day the Lord has given us, rain or shine.
It should serve as a reminder to the neighbor that he has no business posting those offensive signs calling us devil worshipers.
Quite frankly, I think he's going to call the police on us yet again over this but I really don't care. The right to conduct divine services is protected by the First Amendment.
To tell you the truth, I hope the police ARE called. They are getting tired of this guy and his antics and will likely take satisfaction telling him that divine services are protected by the First Amendment and to simply stop whining.
I just thought of something as I end this epistle.
I'm now a officially an appointed Sky Pilot.
Cool!
For those that are not familiar with the term, a sky pilot is a chaplain. The term comes from the Royal Navy. There were and still are people with local knowledge of certain waters that are hired to pilot ships through them. They are called ship's pilots.
Royal Navy sailors started calling chaplains sky pilots because they figured they knew the way to heaven.
It's a charming term when used in the proper context that is seldom heard anymore. It's too bad in a way.
Back when I was in the service I referred to the DivArty chaplain (a tough Jesuit, no less) as a sky pilot and he grinned. He was a tough old bird.
Also after I got out I met a retired Navy chaplain that once referred to himself as being a 25-year Navy Sky Pilot. He was pretty funny when he confessed he liked being assigned to the Marines.
"Up front, good old fashioned sinners," he grinned.
Anyway I'll keep you posted when I get around to holding my service.
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
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
I remember the time
we had a Russian ship pull into Kodiak for some reason or another. It turned into a pretty good party if I recall.
I believe that this was before the Berlin Wall was torn down but I may be wrong.
Still, I remember that there was a political officer of some sort that was wandering through the bars watching and listening to the guys off of his ship. He was a real wet blanket because when he walked in the Russian sailors got pretty quiet pretty fast.
Along came a certain somebody that befriended the guy and somehow managed to get a couple of drinks into him and relax him enough to drop his guard. That seemed to be all it took. I don't know what he did to the guy but he passed out and was left on the dock at the end of the Russian ship's gangway. That's when things in the bars began to cook.
Work of the political officer being taken out of the equation really got things cooking. Word went through the Russian sailors ashore like wildfire. Let the party begin!
I like the retelling of the tale because as it got retold time and again I believe the story grew to where they took the passed out officer somewhere and tattooed the Stars and Stripes on his chest.
Then again maybe they DID tattoo the bastard! I don't know. I always hoped they did.
Still, I remember I had nothing special to do that day and enjoyed having a couple with a bunch of Rooski sailors. It was a lot of fun.
If I recall the Russians started running out of money quickly as they didn't get paid nearly as much as we did. That didn't slow things down much. The fishing fleet was in and they were flush and had plenty of cash to blow on a good party.
The truth is that I'd bet that the fishermen of the Kodiak fleet did more for grass roots international relations in a day than anyone in Foggy Bottom could in months. I'm sure the Russian sailors had a blast.
I kind of liked those guys. They were all right as far as I could see. Then again sailors are all cut from the same cloth.
Now that I think about it we'd all be a whole lot better off if we were more careful aout who we let run our countries. Generally it's governments that start all this crap in the first place.
Maybe we ought to elect drunken sailors to public office. At least when drunken sailors run out of money they stop spending it.
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
I believe that this was before the Berlin Wall was torn down but I may be wrong.
Still, I remember that there was a political officer of some sort that was wandering through the bars watching and listening to the guys off of his ship. He was a real wet blanket because when he walked in the Russian sailors got pretty quiet pretty fast.
Along came a certain somebody that befriended the guy and somehow managed to get a couple of drinks into him and relax him enough to drop his guard. That seemed to be all it took. I don't know what he did to the guy but he passed out and was left on the dock at the end of the Russian ship's gangway. That's when things in the bars began to cook.
Work of the political officer being taken out of the equation really got things cooking. Word went through the Russian sailors ashore like wildfire. Let the party begin!
I like the retelling of the tale because as it got retold time and again I believe the story grew to where they took the passed out officer somewhere and tattooed the Stars and Stripes on his chest.
Then again maybe they DID tattoo the bastard! I don't know. I always hoped they did.
Still, I remember I had nothing special to do that day and enjoyed having a couple with a bunch of Rooski sailors. It was a lot of fun.
If I recall the Russians started running out of money quickly as they didn't get paid nearly as much as we did. That didn't slow things down much. The fishing fleet was in and they were flush and had plenty of cash to blow on a good party.
The truth is that I'd bet that the fishermen of the Kodiak fleet did more for grass roots international relations in a day than anyone in Foggy Bottom could in months. I'm sure the Russian sailors had a blast.
I kind of liked those guys. They were all right as far as I could see. Then again sailors are all cut from the same cloth.
Now that I think about it we'd all be a whole lot better off if we were more careful aout who we let run our countries. Generally it's governments that start all this crap in the first place.
Maybe we ought to elect drunken sailors to public office. At least when drunken sailors run out of money they stop spending it.
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
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
I just bought a fedora
because I am thinking of taking my old look back. I tried it on and it looks pretty good.
Between the mid 70s and sometime around 1983 my basic uniform was a pair of Levi 501s, a khaki shirt, an old G-1 Navy leather flight jacket and a fedora. For a while I traded the fedora for some kind of a western hat. However after some broad in a bar stole my western hat. I returned to the fedora.
In 1983 or so Indiana Jones came along and I had to change my uniform because everyone said I was dressing like him even though he was dressing like me. It was a look I had gotten from the 40s and early 50s which is pretty much where Speilberg got Indy's look from.
A good fedora is a neat hat that you can be anyone in. You can be an explorer, a swashbuckler, an archeologist, a 40s truck driver, a soldier of fortune, a gangster, Clark Kent, a private eye, a moonshiner, a reporter, or even a police detective.
Dick Tracy never caught a disfigured criminal character without his on and the only time it ever came off was when Prune Face (or was it Knot Head) shot a hole in it.
The possibilities of who you can be in a fedora are endless.
Or you can just simply be an ordinary guy like me.
I originally got the look from the generation behind me, my dad's. The leather jacket and fedora was a common uniform of former flyboys in the late 40s and early 50s. Back then men wore hats. Somewhere I saw an old picture of my dad in his Air Corps leather jacket and a fedora, circa 1947.
When I got off of the airplane from Alaska in a visit home back in '82 my dad laughed and commented I reminded him of himself back when he got out of the service. He had picked me up at the airport when he said that.
When we got home, my mother commented that I looked like my father did sometimes thirty years ago. Actually she added my fedora was pretty grubby and dad would never be caught dead in such a ratty hat. Dad was a little more of a natty dresser than I was. She later took me out and bought me a new one.
It was the last time I ever saw him alive and the year before Raiders of the Lost Ark came out.
The look came from countless movies, pulps and comic books. It's sort of a retro 40s thing.
It's been a long time since Indy stole my look. Thirty odd years is a long time.
I think now is the time for me to take back into my Old School uniform again.
Screw Indiana Jones. I'm taking my look back.
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
Between the mid 70s and sometime around 1983 my basic uniform was a pair of Levi 501s, a khaki shirt, an old G-1 Navy leather flight jacket and a fedora. For a while I traded the fedora for some kind of a western hat. However after some broad in a bar stole my western hat. I returned to the fedora.
In 1983 or so Indiana Jones came along and I had to change my uniform because everyone said I was dressing like him even though he was dressing like me. It was a look I had gotten from the 40s and early 50s which is pretty much where Speilberg got Indy's look from.
A good fedora is a neat hat that you can be anyone in. You can be an explorer, a swashbuckler, an archeologist, a 40s truck driver, a soldier of fortune, a gangster, Clark Kent, a private eye, a moonshiner, a reporter, or even a police detective.
Dick Tracy never caught a disfigured criminal character without his on and the only time it ever came off was when Prune Face (or was it Knot Head) shot a hole in it.
The possibilities of who you can be in a fedora are endless.
Or you can just simply be an ordinary guy like me.
I originally got the look from the generation behind me, my dad's. The leather jacket and fedora was a common uniform of former flyboys in the late 40s and early 50s. Back then men wore hats. Somewhere I saw an old picture of my dad in his Air Corps leather jacket and a fedora, circa 1947.
When I got off of the airplane from Alaska in a visit home back in '82 my dad laughed and commented I reminded him of himself back when he got out of the service. He had picked me up at the airport when he said that.
When we got home, my mother commented that I looked like my father did sometimes thirty years ago. Actually she added my fedora was pretty grubby and dad would never be caught dead in such a ratty hat. Dad was a little more of a natty dresser than I was. She later took me out and bought me a new one.
It was the last time I ever saw him alive and the year before Raiders of the Lost Ark came out.
The look came from countless movies, pulps and comic books. It's sort of a retro 40s thing.
It's been a long time since Indy stole my look. Thirty odd years is a long time.
I think now is the time for me to take back into my Old School uniform again.
Screw Indiana Jones. I'm taking my look back.
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
Monday, October 27, 2014
Buy your own.
I always got a kick out of the college kid that went fishing with us one halibut opening and started trying to tell the skipper where he thought we ought to fish.
He thought he had joined up into some kind of democratic venture where everything gets voted on by the crew. Or at least he acted like it.
The first time the skipper listened to him and acted interested and receptive to his ideas. When the kid was finished, the skipper simply said, "Buy your own."
I always wonder about people like the kid.
They have nothing invested in something yet they insist on telling someone that does how to run someone else's operation.
This was in the early 80s and the skipper/owner had a million bucks tied up in his boat and about the same tied up in gear. The kid had a $10 crewman's fishing license tied up as his investment and even then it wasn't the boat's license. It was the kid's and he could take it anywhere he wanted. He had the option of simply staying ashore and done something else had he chosen to and all he would have lost is his lousy ten bucks. Or he could have simply found another boat to fish on.
The skipper had no such option if he wanted to keep his boat and gear. He had to work it. If no fish are caught then boat payments are not met and he loses everything.
During the trip the skipper asked me for an idea or two which was his option. Truth is it was pretty much rhetorical and I knew it. I knew he just wanted to get his brain flowing. I shared a couple ideas and left it at that. I really didn't have much useful to give him and I knew it. He was simply brainstorming.
Some skippers do that from time to time. They ask the greenest crewmember for suggestions figuring that in their ignorance might uncover something they have been overlooking for years. It's looking for a fresh point of view. I've done it myself.
When it was all over and done with, I walked away from the trip with a pretty good sized chunk of change and the skipper made his payments.
He gets the credit for that and that's the way it is. He made the call as to where we fished and he told us where and when to set the gear and the entire ball was in his hands.
There are those out there that would gripe that the crew shares should have been bigger but the truth is they don't have a clue. They had nothing invested in it. The skipper, being an owner/operator did to the tune of a couple of million bucks. That's a lot of fish he has to catch to pay for all of this.
The complainers should buy their own boats and see how their attitude changes.
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, October 26, 2014
A couple of years ago
I ran into a former cohort of mine. We knew each other from spending time in Kodiak.
One of the subjects that came up for some odd reason was the Filipino community. I never had a single problem with them and he said that he hadn't either although a shipmate of his had been stabbed by one of its members.
When he told me about the stabbing I commented that it was most likely fueled by alcohol and testosterone on the part of the fisherman. He agreed. It was a case of someone looking for a fight and finding one.
Generally a scuffle involving Filipinos happened when some drunken fisherman stumbled over and picked a fight with them. Most of them are of a slight build and not fighters by nature. When they are forced to fight they generally look for an equalizer. The culture in the Philippines is somewhat of a blade culture so grabbing a knife makes sense.
There was no shortage of stupidity. When someone went looking to get his ass kicked there was generally someone there willing to oblige him. If he is a big assailant you can generally expect the assaulted party to throw an equalizer of some sort into the equation. Ginsu. Buck and Schrade make good ones.
When I arrived in Kodiak I was warned that Filipinos carried sharp knives and as a result I stood clear and observed. I saw a group of people that were fun loving, cheerful and basically happy.
Most of them were cannery workers and it was the evening before cannery payday and a half-dozen were sitting at a table nursing beers. By this time I knew a few of the the ins and outs of Kodiak and decided to make a few friends. I told the bartender to give me a case of beer.
"I think I'll make a few friends," I told him.
He gave me a deal on a case of Olympia, popped all the tops and I took it over to the guys and dropped it off on the table of surprised Filipinos. Instant party.
That's all it took.
I have said in the past that the Filipinos are the Irish of the South Seas and to a point they are. They love a party, are happy by nature, never forget a slight and never forget a kind gesture.
After that I had a standing invite into their community.
A meal in a Filipino home is similar to a meal in an Irish, Italian or Mexican household. It is bedlam, chaos, laughter, teasing and just plain fun. There is nothing formal or serious about it at all.
Actually the case of beer incident wasn't my introduction to the community. I had been introduced to the community via a cannery I briefly worked in for a few days processing roe herring.
It was after I had been there a couple of days that I mentioned I had carpentry skills and when I did a couple of the Filipinas looked at a Mexican woman. The Mexican woman told me I ought to work for a couple of Mexicans that had a boat repair business.
One of them even went so far as to make a phone call and arrange a meeting. One of the Mexicans met me at the door at quitting time and hired me on the spot as somewhat of a grunt for about a week's worth of work.
For what I learned from them I would have worked for free. They were astonishing. I won't get into that here, but these guys were amazing. When they were done with the job they hooked me up with another builder that needed a hand and from then on I never wanted for work.
As far as the case of beer incident went it paid huge dividends. A couple of times I was invited into their homes for dinner and in return I took a couple of Filipinas to the movies. I was clever enough to offer to take a brother with me.
These people are pretty devout Old School Catholics and I didn't want even the appearance of any shenanigans with the womanfolk.
Over the next few years my friendship with many of them developed and they became another part of the woodwork although a couple of times at the Anchor Bar I'd get grabbed to defuse a confrontation.
One confrontation I settled was a failure to communicate. A somewhat drunk gentle giant was horsing around and managed to intimidate a small Filipino. I sensed trouble and said something to the Filipino on my left and the incident was headed off.
We wound up sitting them down at a table and handing them both beers and telling them not to get up until they were done. They became friends of a sort.
All it took was the ability to treat people with courtesy and respect and to be willing to part with a case of beer that I got back tenfold anyways.
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
Saturday, October 25, 2014
One of the interesting things I spoke of with an uncle of mine was about my father's post-war adjustment.
I won't get into his career except to say he got booted out of primary fighter training for rat-shack racing and hedge-hopping. I later found out that the school actually booted people out at random for that to set an example keep this sort of stuff to a minimum. His turn, I guess.
Truth is they WANTED fearless wildmen in the skies. They wanted guys that would attack forces several times their size without thinking about it.
Anyway, he became a bombardier and flew. Bombardiers were generally officers and officers were treated much better than enlisted men.
Dad was typical of the generation that lit up the skies. He was a high school graduate with an aptitude for math and physics. The army crammed a couple of years of this into him in just a few months.
Prior to his entry into the service he played jazz to make a few bucks in night clubs while attending high school. Clarinet and sax. Today this would be like a high school kid playing in a rock band a couple nights a week while attending classes during the day.
Anyway, like a lot of guys, dad got pretty used to being treated like an officer in the few short years he flew during WW2. He ate in the officer's mess and drank in the officer's club. His details and duties did not include things like guard duty, mess duty, cleaning grease pits and digging ditches.
He would sometimes oversee things like this as officer of the day or other duties that were handed to young officers. Actually, when a flyboy was on the ground he had a pretty good life, considering. He generally lived better than the enlisted guys did.
Upon discharge he was pretty much thrown to the wolves. Truth is, it was a pretty big fall. The relative ease of an officer's life was thrown to the wind and he was left to shift for himself. He was just another discharged GI with a high school diploma looking for something to do to feed himself.
Dad did resume playing jazz for a brief period and he got by. Still, he was simply another former GI and nobody cared if a guy was a former private or a former colonel. He was just another guy looking for a job.
In the movie The Best Years of our Lives, Dana Andrews plays a recently discharged bombardier and to some extent it paralleled my dad's transition. Andrews played a discharged bombardier that was a decorated captain that returned to his pre-war job as a soda jerk.
Andrews' character also saw that the B-17s he flew were obsolete, being scrapped and were a part of history. He knew that even if he returned to the Air Corps there wouldn't be a B-17 bombardier's job for him.
Dad eventually went back to school under the GI bill and then later on went to college at Northeastern, graduating in 1957. In January '51 he married mom and in November '51 he started doing what he was put on this earth to do.
He was sent here to raise a family.
When I was an infant he worked in a few manigerial and sales positions but didn't like the headaches and found a job fixing cars as a mechanic and flipping a few used cars on the side.
Unlike the white collar jobs he worked at, being a wrench for hire gave him the time to do the job of raising kids right.
Still, he had a pretty hard time adjusting to life after a hitch as an officer and gentleman and it was interesting hearing it from my uncle later on when I was just out of the service.
Interestingly enough, during the Cuban missile crisis Dad, along with a lot of vets was terrified of being called back into service. He said he'd be damned if he'd go in as a private.
Like the Dana Andrews character, Dad knew there were no more B-29s left to fly and hence no officer flight jobs for him.
I was enlisted and believe had a much easier adjustment than he did. I guess I just knew I'd have to bust my ass doing something somewhere when I was discharged.
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
Friday, October 24, 2014
Generally overzealous church people ruin stuff.
One of the things I remember well in Kodiak was the Annual Buskin River Raft Race that took place in the spring. It served as a pretty good vent for cabin fever and was a pretty good fund raiser for one of the local clubs. I may be wrong but I think it was sponsered by the Lions Club.
It was a race down a piece of the Buskin River and had six mandatory beer stops. By the time someone had completed the race they generally had a pretty good glow on. Actually the beers were only 7 ounces each if I recall.
It was a great release after being cooped up all winter or busting your ass in the Bering Sea fishing for crabs. We would laugh about it for weeks afterwards.
Now Alaska has always drawn its population heavily from the four M s. Mercenaries, Missionaries, Malcontents and Misfits. The mercenaries are there to make a buck, the malcontents and misfits are there to get away from the Lower 48 to a place where they are accepted and/or left alone.
The missionaries, on the other hand, are there specifically to ruin things and turn the place into an extension of the Lower 48 and are just one colossal pain in the ass as far as I am concerned. They do it under the guise of doing God's work. Truth is they have a track record of ruining just about everythng they touch.
The church people came along and thought they knew what was good for us and they raised hell over the raft race and it went away.
It seemed that everything that was fun or outrageous went away during the years I spent in Kodiak and it got to slowly be a less colorful and fun place to live. When you went to figure out why it was almost always the doings of the church people.
I would imagine that a number of church people are reformed drunks simply because there is nothing worse than a reformed drunk. They have seen the light and they want to take the light and blind everyone else with it.
As time went on my desire to punch a certain hypocritical preacher in the face grew and grew. Preacher or no preacher, that guy deserved a good hickory shampoo.
Self-rightous people like that are miserable to be around because they always want to eliminate what they don't like. The attitude I have toward most things I don't like is to simply stay away from them. Who am I to tell someone that they can and can't do if it doesn't hurt me or rob from me?
Of course, it it hurts me or robs me, then that's a different story.
The way I see things is that crimes have to have a victim. The church people were not victims no matter how you slice things. I'd have liked them if they had simply kept their noses out of where they didn't belong.
Incidentally it isn't just Christians that are a royal pain in the ass, either. Every time I see militant Muslims babbling about trying to get Sharia law passed I get just as angry. To me it is all the same. It is people trying to ram their religious beliefs down everyone else's throat.
Actually I sometimes think that if someone volunteers to be governed by Sharia law that's fine by me. They can mutilate each other's genitals, stone each other, hack each other up all they want as far as I am concerned. I'll just sit by, eat a ham sandwich, drink a beer and watch. I got ten bucks on the bearded guy with the big scimitar.
Of course, if the bearded guy with the big scimitar even looks at me cross-eyed, it's Indiana Jones time and out comes the .455 Webley.
Now that I think about this a little, maybe you ought to put the militant Christians into a big pen with the militant Muslims and let them settle their differences.
The rest of us could watch the carnage. It could be quite a pay-TV event. Afterwards we'd take the winners and put them on a boat headed to a tropical paradise on earth. Then along the way to the tropics we park the boat next to USS Oriskany.
The ship could then serve as an artificial reef and get listed on a Scuba website of the ten best dives in North America.
It would save us ALL a lot of trouble.
Incidentally, some of the nicest people I have ever met are deeply religious. They simply know when to butt out of things. What's more they don't necessarily fall into the 'church people' category.
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
Thursday, October 23, 2014
One of the neighborhood kids turned 12
a few months back and does a few odds and ends for me. I wonder if he's free on Halloween.
It has been a while since I have chased kids around on Halloween wielding the family chain saw and it just might be fun to do it this year. It's always a fun thing to do.
It generally scares the hell out of the parents more than it does the kids, especially if the kid being chased is a good actor.
The past couple of years seem to have made things catch up with me so I suppose he'll have to call me grandpa instead of dad like a kid did a few years back. Also I don't run as fast as I used to.
Actually this may not be a very good idea because when I did it several years ago some dopey mother called the cops on me. The responding cop was pretty good about things when he saw the chain had been pulled off the bar and the saw was nothing more than a scary looking noisemaker.
He explained to the woman that the chain saw was harmless but the woman wasn't buying it until he told me to cut my own leg off with it. Of course, I couldn't cut anything with it but the woman was dubious and still acted all weirded out.
Of course, you can't fix stupid and the woman kept insisting that there had to be something unsafe about it. She kept prattling on and on until I looked at the cop and said, "You got better things to do. How about if I put the damned thing back on the shelf and simply leave it there?"
Then I turned to the woman and said, "Will that shut you up?"
And I went back into the garage and shelved the chain saw.
I'll think this over and figure out what I am going to do this Halloween.
Generally I give out candy to the kids and hot buttered rum to the parents. Most of the parents are grateful.
I say most. There's always one and she showed up a few years back, too. She started giving me hell about dispensing drinks in front of kids. I was just ready to tell her off when another soccer mom, a busty little redheaded little spitfire started in on her telling her to stop ruining things for everyone else.
It caused quite a heated argument for a while and I seriously thought the little redhead was going to start swinging. The last thing I needed was a catfight in my garage.
I stepped out into the driveway, held up a twenty and shouted "Catfight in the garage! I got twenty bucks on the little redhead with the big tits!"
The guy across the street shouted, "I'll take ten of that!" and started across the street, laughing.
Of course, the two of them instantly knocked it off and they both left but the redhead returned a little while later and I gave her another hot buttered rum.
"I hate people that ruin good things," she said. She mused a second. "Twenty bucks on me, huh?"
"Yeah, I figured you could take her," I said. "You're half her size, but it's not the size of the dog in the fight. It's the size of the fight in the dog."
We chatted a while and she left.
Still, as time passes Halloween grows a little dimmer with each passing because there is always some jerk coming along and ruining some part of it.
Still, I'll keep the good fight up for as long as I'm alive and able. Halloween should be fun, and this year it's going to be, dammit!
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
It has been a while since I have chased kids around on Halloween wielding the family chain saw and it just might be fun to do it this year. It's always a fun thing to do.
It generally scares the hell out of the parents more than it does the kids, especially if the kid being chased is a good actor.
The past couple of years seem to have made things catch up with me so I suppose he'll have to call me grandpa instead of dad like a kid did a few years back. Also I don't run as fast as I used to.
Actually this may not be a very good idea because when I did it several years ago some dopey mother called the cops on me. The responding cop was pretty good about things when he saw the chain had been pulled off the bar and the saw was nothing more than a scary looking noisemaker.
He explained to the woman that the chain saw was harmless but the woman wasn't buying it until he told me to cut my own leg off with it. Of course, I couldn't cut anything with it but the woman was dubious and still acted all weirded out.
Of course, you can't fix stupid and the woman kept insisting that there had to be something unsafe about it. She kept prattling on and on until I looked at the cop and said, "You got better things to do. How about if I put the damned thing back on the shelf and simply leave it there?"
Then I turned to the woman and said, "Will that shut you up?"
And I went back into the garage and shelved the chain saw.
I'll think this over and figure out what I am going to do this Halloween.
Generally I give out candy to the kids and hot buttered rum to the parents. Most of the parents are grateful.
I say most. There's always one and she showed up a few years back, too. She started giving me hell about dispensing drinks in front of kids. I was just ready to tell her off when another soccer mom, a busty little redheaded little spitfire started in on her telling her to stop ruining things for everyone else.
It caused quite a heated argument for a while and I seriously thought the little redhead was going to start swinging. The last thing I needed was a catfight in my garage.
I stepped out into the driveway, held up a twenty and shouted "Catfight in the garage! I got twenty bucks on the little redhead with the big tits!"
The guy across the street shouted, "I'll take ten of that!" and started across the street, laughing.
Of course, the two of them instantly knocked it off and they both left but the redhead returned a little while later and I gave her another hot buttered rum.
"I hate people that ruin good things," she said. She mused a second. "Twenty bucks on me, huh?"
"Yeah, I figured you could take her," I said. "You're half her size, but it's not the size of the dog in the fight. It's the size of the fight in the dog."
We chatted a while and she left.
Still, as time passes Halloween grows a little dimmer with each passing because there is always some jerk coming along and ruining some part of it.
Still, I'll keep the good fight up for as long as I'm alive and able. Halloween should be fun, and this year it's going to be, dammit!
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
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
One of the things I learned early on
was the value of keeping secrets. Especially in the areas of romantic dealings with the opposite sex.
I noticed early on that the kiss and tell guys didn't last very long. Women talk among themselves and when it gets back to one of them that some idiot is bragging about his most recent conquest then an awful lot of women tend to avoid him.
Especially in a small town.
I was always seen entering and leaving any of the bars and hangouts alone. It didn't take much to tell a prospective romantic partner to quietly leave alone and discreetly meet me somewhere else in a few minutes.
You would be astonished at how much this was appreciated. Most women don't care to advertise their private doings.
Unless I was with a regular girlfriend or out on the town with a date of some sort I was seldom if ever seem leaving a bar or restaurant with a woman.
What was interesting is that it was appreciated by the women I was with.
Keeping my mouth shut paid pretty good dividends.
Consider this a lesson to you young readers from an old man and let's leave it at that.
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
I noticed early on that the kiss and tell guys didn't last very long. Women talk among themselves and when it gets back to one of them that some idiot is bragging about his most recent conquest then an awful lot of women tend to avoid him.
Especially in a small town.
I was always seen entering and leaving any of the bars and hangouts alone. It didn't take much to tell a prospective romantic partner to quietly leave alone and discreetly meet me somewhere else in a few minutes.
You would be astonished at how much this was appreciated. Most women don't care to advertise their private doings.
Unless I was with a regular girlfriend or out on the town with a date of some sort I was seldom if ever seem leaving a bar or restaurant with a woman.
What was interesting is that it was appreciated by the women I was with.
Keeping my mouth shut paid pretty good dividends.
Consider this a lesson to you young readers from an old man and let's leave it at that.
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
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
I see a lot of car and motorcycle
shows on TV these days and know that a lot of it is made-up drama for TV.
The impossible deadlines, the setbacks, the bids that leave little room for error and the usual things that make for a little interest in the show.
What interests me is the money that people are willing to pay for these various cars. Many of which easily run well over a year's pay for a working stiff.
Of course the money is out there because if it wasn't the guys would not be building these custom vehicles.
Still, I have a hard time justifying paying, say, $75K for a hot rod.
Back in the day, kids would build their own and by the time it was over and done with they may have had a grand or so tied up in the whole project. I would imagine that some of the machining was likely done in the school shop eiter as a part of class or after school. I recall that some of the guys got to do a few things after school.
One of the things I recall about the guys in school that were into cars did was to make their own. These days it seems that a lot of the hot rods seem to come out of custom shops. I wonder why that is?
I suppose that a lot of guys have more money than time and I look at things differently (as usual).
I think that if I was a car guy that wanted a hot rod I would value the time to build one more than the money to have someone else build one for me.
I had a doctor that lived a couple miles away from me as a kid that liked to spend time working with cars and I remember he rebuilt a Jeep from the ground up. When he was done he had a brand new twenty-five year old Jeep. He was pretty proud of it and I heard he entered it in a couple of shows although I may be wrong about that.
I have no clue how much he had into it but I'd bet it wasn't a whole lot when you consider he did all the work himself. While he certainly did replace a lot of parts, there were a lot of them that were in good shape and only needed cleaning up, rebuilding or refinishing.
Still, he put one hell of a lot of work into the project and it came out a beautiful job and displayed his talents in a way that he should have been very proud of.
On many of these car shows we get to see guys building a custom car for someone else. The final owner brings nothing into it but a checkbook.
To me having something you bought out of the custom shop is nowhere near as nice as something one put together with their hands.
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
The impossible deadlines, the setbacks, the bids that leave little room for error and the usual things that make for a little interest in the show.
What interests me is the money that people are willing to pay for these various cars. Many of which easily run well over a year's pay for a working stiff.
Of course the money is out there because if it wasn't the guys would not be building these custom vehicles.
Still, I have a hard time justifying paying, say, $75K for a hot rod.
Back in the day, kids would build their own and by the time it was over and done with they may have had a grand or so tied up in the whole project. I would imagine that some of the machining was likely done in the school shop eiter as a part of class or after school. I recall that some of the guys got to do a few things after school.
One of the things I recall about the guys in school that were into cars did was to make their own. These days it seems that a lot of the hot rods seem to come out of custom shops. I wonder why that is?
I suppose that a lot of guys have more money than time and I look at things differently (as usual).
I think that if I was a car guy that wanted a hot rod I would value the time to build one more than the money to have someone else build one for me.
I had a doctor that lived a couple miles away from me as a kid that liked to spend time working with cars and I remember he rebuilt a Jeep from the ground up. When he was done he had a brand new twenty-five year old Jeep. He was pretty proud of it and I heard he entered it in a couple of shows although I may be wrong about that.
I have no clue how much he had into it but I'd bet it wasn't a whole lot when you consider he did all the work himself. While he certainly did replace a lot of parts, there were a lot of them that were in good shape and only needed cleaning up, rebuilding or refinishing.
Still, he put one hell of a lot of work into the project and it came out a beautiful job and displayed his talents in a way that he should have been very proud of.
On many of these car shows we get to see guys building a custom car for someone else. The final owner brings nothing into it but a checkbook.
To me having something you bought out of the custom shop is nowhere near as nice as something one put together with their hands.
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
Monday, October 20, 2014
Welcome to Right Wing Nut Case Central.
So named by someone that read this blog and told me that I was one of those terrible people that doesn't love the poor and hate the rich.
Yup. That's me.
I don't hate the poor, nor love the rich, either. They are just there. The rich are generally rich because they have the talent and drive to get rich. They generally put up a lot of money and risk it in a venture of some sort. They have the dreams, vision and drive to get into a venture of some sort that make them a lot of money.
The poor are poor because they don't have the drive and or talent to get ahead.
It is really that the rich have chosen to get rich and in most cases the poor have chosen to be poor.
There was a cartoon once about Bill Gates. He was trying to get a few $100 investors back when he was working out of his garage. There was a guy that didn't want to invest in Gates.
Instead he took the money and bought an 8-track tape player.
Betcha he feels like a fool now.
Truth is that if I had put the price of an 8-track into Microsoft back when Gates was working out of his garage I likely would be sitting on top of some mountain somewhere instead of busting my ass out on a boat.
The truth about a lot of the so-called poor is that life is too easy for them. They get free food, clothing, shelter, telephones and God only knows what else. They can find ways to either trade their government subsidies or work under the table for tattoos, beer, drugs and cigarettes.
We have made it too easy for them and by doing so have created a generational system of dependence.
Hey, if I had the basics coming in for free it would be pretty hard for me to get a job just to buy my own basics. Why bother?
Unfortunately there's a lot of wasted talent in the welfare rolls. I'd bet that if you did away with the benefits and made people support themselves there would be a number of people that would be quite successful once they got the hang of things.
I don't hate these people for this, I just wish they would decide to start taking care of themselves.
Thinking this way seems to have gotten me labeled a nut case so I figure I won't fight it. I guess if you want to call this blog Right Wing Nut Case Central, then go ahead.
I suppose I COULD care less, but I don't see how. My care-o-meter is resting on the zero peg.
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
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