About Playing Air Guitar

Playing Air Guitar

 

Playing air guitar is probably not the best description, although I did that as well. To be completely accurate its more like playing tennis racket, let me explain.

When I was a kid my parents gave me a guitar.  It was one of those that you see in the toy store that had plastic strings and when I picked it up to play it I came to the realization that there was possibly more to playing guitar then just wanting to play the guitar, in other words, the noise coming out of my guitar just did not sound like a Led Zeppelin guitar solo.

So at that point I figured I had two choices, I could either take lessons and learn how to play, or I could self teach myself like all the guitar greats had done. Ultimately I choose to do neither and instead I, well, faked it, enter the tennis racket.

Now, when I was younger there was no such thing as playing the air guitar.  There was either playing a real guitar, acting like you were playing a guitar for real when you were actually just holding a real guitar in your hands, or using a guitar substitute (tennis racket, broom, the cat, you see what I mean).  I choose the tennis racket.  I decided on a tennis racket because I had one in my room and I couldn't figure out how to sneak the broom to my room without anyone noticing (and we didn't have a cat).

So I used to play my tennis racket to every Beatles' song I could get my hands on.  You would think that I would have left it at playing my tennis racket alone in my room (and signing all the John Lennon parts to my fake, hairbrush taped to the TV antenna, microphone) but that wasn't the way I rolled.

I actually found other kids in the neighborhood who also played tennis racket, actually one kid played fruit but that's a different post, and we would all set up in my room and play our (fake) instruments.  Then one day we were ready for a real concert and possibly a tour.

Now our tennis rackets, and English cucumber, didn't have speakers per say so we all decided to put the record player out the bedroom window to the driveway and set up there.  I don't remember what the guy who was supposed to be Ringo used for drums, may have been a trash can or one of his mom's hat boxes, but we set up out there and played for the whole neighborhood.  Evidently no one in the neighborhood was home at that time because no one came to watch the concert except for one kid that informed us that The Beatles were just a fad, according to his dad, and they wouldn't be around for long. Yeah right...

So my "air guitar" days lasted until I was about 19 when my mom caught me playing my tennis racket in my room while I was home on leave from the military.  I stopped doing it then because I realized that it was either learn how to play the guitar, or learn how to play tennis.  The combination was not working and it was getting a little embarrassing walking around with a tennis racket in a guitar case.  Besides that I had always had an interest in girls and the tennis racket was apparently a turn off when I pulled it out of the case and started playing the Stairway To Heaven guitar solo, evidently no one could actually hear it but me, and it got to the point where all I could hear was laughter...

I have just been informed that an English cucumber is a vegetable not a fruit.  Now if everyone is going to get all picky I am not going to write the post about how I learned how to drive.

About Politics

For some reason this is really pissing me off!  I was going to try and write something about politics today.   As a matter of fact I actually started two different posts on the subject and could not finish either. I asked myself what that said about me as a citizen, that I couldn't even write about our political system, but then I thought, Now listen, just because you can't write anything intelligent about the monster we now call out political system doesn't mean you are an idiot that should be better informed, it actually means that, although you may be an idiot in this regard, you are among many very talented idiots that don't seem to understand the system any better then you do.  Unfortunately they are the idiots we voted into office.

Now I'm not talking about knowledge of how the political system is set-up, or how it is supposed to work in principle.   I'm talking about the fact that most political candidates seem to spend a lot of time telling everyone how screwed up their opponents are and not a lot of time telling everyone how they recognize the real problems in our society and how they intend to realistically work to fix those problems.

I hear candidates make a lot of promises like, "I will fix all our economic problems, but I won't raise taxes, I will just say abracadabra and the money will fall from heaven because it says, 'In God we Trust' on it, or 'I promise to work with congress, get them to agree with all the other promises I am making right now and solve all the countries problems!  If they don't agree and make the changes I am promising to make, then I will hypnotize them and then they will'."  What obviously follows here is that since that probably won't work with congress they will hypnotize us with so much bull shit we won't know whether we are coming or going by the time they are done.

It seems to me that  our political system has become so ridiculous that we citizens have no idea what to do about it any more.  Our politicians are so busy slinging so much crap at each other that they have not only forgotten why they are where they are (you know, like Florida or Hawaii at a conference we are paying for!  How come they never have a conference in North Dakota in December?) but they've forgotten who the boss is around here.  You can't really blame them, we have evidently forgotten who the boss is as well (it's us stupid).

We citizens have got to take responsibility for what has happened.  Not only were we stupid enough to think we could vote for someone, send them to Washington DC (or never-never land as I like to refer to it), give them the power to change peoples lives and then act surprised when they don't change anything but their annual income.  For some reason we seem to want to think we have sent Jesus to Washington DC and then we are dumb enough to act surprised when they are not performing miracles.

My vote is to completely change the entire political system.  We can base it on the merit program.  When a politician creates livable housing for their constituents, they can move from the tent we have them staying in to an apartment of our choosing.  When they have come up with a workable health care plan we can let them enroll in it and use what everyone else is using, be it a witch doctor or a medical doctor, they can choose whom ever they like.  And when they get the national debt to a workable level that's in the black, they can start drawing a paycheck.

When these and many other changes happen, maybe then Jesus will return, although it's my bet that he will still level the place just to get rid of the smell.  I did not solve any of the countries problems with this post, but I really don't feel to guilty about it.  No one else has solved any of the countries problems either.  Maybe if we required every graduating class of every university in this country to come up with a workable solution to at least one legitimate problem before they could graduate it would have an impact.  I doubt it, Jesus doesn't go to any of those schools...............that we know of!

About The Price Of Gas?

Gasoline prices are on the rise again and this time I would like to make a few observations:

So let's look at some facts (or at least some common misconceptions that someone who really doesn't know the facts tosses around).

Number one: the big oil companies don't raise prices in the summer when everyone is driving to grandma's house. To hear the oil companies tell it they are non profit, and apparently charitable organizations kind of like the catholic church (I was raised catholic so the rest of you just cool it). Since the catholic church doesn't have to pay taxes then it's just not fair to ask those poor oil companies to do so either.

Number two: we invaded Iraq just to get their oil. Oh please, everyone knows we invaded Iraq because the leader of Iraq was a very mean person who should have been removed from power years ago when he raised the price of crude, oh wait...crap!

Number three: If you buy an ugly, hybrid car your gas mileage will be significantly reduced. This is true! What they don't tell you is that your self image will also be significantly reduced probably due to the fact that you have saved money driving around your hybrid, but you have lost all your friends because they don't want to ride around with you any more in your ugly hybrid car (and I have news for you, your wife doesn't want to ride around with you any more either but she has to because she is married to you).

Number four: if there is a flood on the east coast, a refinery fire on the west coast, or a war in the Middle East your gas prices are going to go up. This is true also! Its based on the laws of supply and demand which I will try and explain. So, let's say your a big oil company and you just finished paying a bunch of money to clean up the gulf after one of your oil rigs burned and sank. I am the guy who needs to buy some oil from you but since you now need to replace a bazillion dollar oil rig you tell me that oil now costs twice as much as it did yesterday because there was a fire that sank your oil rig and spilled a lot of your oil in the gulf. Since the oil is now swimming with the fishes my SUPPLY is now lower, and since your government is DEMANDING that I clean up my mess, which I don't want to pay for, I am going to charge you to clean up my mess by calling it a cost increase based on your need for fossil fuel.

This model can also be applied to war in the Middle East, or war any where for that matter. Instead of supply and demand you need to change the model name to, "Since you blew up my shit with your bombs, you need to make me feel better by paying for all the damage you caused and, by the way, I'm going to sell my oil to somebody else if I can find someone that isn't afraid your going to blow up their shit as well".

What it all boils down to is this, if I have it and you want it, I am going to make you pay for it! If I screw up and break something or destroy the environment, since you needed what I had and what I had did the damage it's your fault and you are going to pay for it! If you look at me in a manner that makes me uncomfortable and I have what you need you are going to pay for it, and last but not least; if you are going to drive a hundred miles to grandma's house and I find out about it, you are going to pay for it because you know you can't say no to grandma! I guess you could fly to uncle Charlie's instead but you are going to really pay for that I will try to control myself when it comes to lobbying for tax breaks, since I'm non profit and your not....

About Attracting Hummingbirds?

I've spent more than a couple of years trying to get hummingbirds, yes I'm talking about hummingbirds, to come to the feeder we have at our house!

I've mixed sugar water in various concentrations, that didn't work! I purchased premixed nectar and that didn't work. About the only thing I haven't tried is decoys.

I'm sure everyone has seen those wooden duck decoys that hunters put in lakes or ponds to attract ducks to the water so they can shoot the crap out of them, or at least shoot the crap out of the sky trying to hit one as they fly away. One has to wonder what a duck or goose is thinking before it lands on the lake or pond. I mean is it like, 'hey guys look at all those funny looking ducks floating around down there on that water, let's go see what all the excitement is about!'

I find myself kind of hoping that the ducks are actually thinking, hey those dumb ass duck hunters put those stupid wooden birds in the water down there, let's go play chicken (I'm sure playing chicken is some kind of duck joke). After they have landed and the hunters have shot the crap out of everything but duck, with any luck, the ducks probably fly off laughing. It's either laughing or cursing poor Donald's bad luck in flying in front of a blast pointed at the sky.

Anyway, I digress. So I wonder if a hummingbird decoy carved out of wood would work in the same way?  First, I doubt any of the duck decoy makers actually make hummingbird decoys so you would have to carve it and paint it yourself.

Once you are done creating the little hummer decoy you could attach it to your hummingbird feeder to make the decoy look like it was sucking delicious nectar out of one of the feeding ports (or whatever you call those little holes), and before you know it you would have hundreds of those little suckers well, sucking at your feeder!

Now for the avid bird hunter this would not be the time to start blasting away at the hummingbirds! For one thing they are far to small to make a meal of, for another, you'd probably miss and hit the feeder which means you would have to go get a new one and carve another little hummingbird decoy which by now wouldn't fool any of those hummingbirds and which would just make you the laughing stock of the neighborhood. Besides, you don't want a bunch of hummingbirds flying around spreading the word that there is some dumb ass hummingbird hunter putting strange looking wooden hummer decoys on his feeder. The next thing you'd know there would be a bunch of hummingbirds around your house wanting to play a game of crow. Then, before you can say pigeon there's a bunch of guys building scarecrows around the neighborhood, it just never ends, trust me, I know...

Or Want To Ask One?

Well? Does anyone have any questions? You ask, I'll answer! There are no guarantees I'll be correct or that you will get the answer you want but with some 500 of you reading this blog at least one of you must have something your wondering about! Go ahead and give it a try, I'm the only one of us who should be, and most likely will be, embarrassed with the content of a response, mostly due to the fact that there are often times that I do not have the slightest idea what I'm talking about (like right now for instance) so if you ask a question I can guarantee you'll get an answer, I just can't guarantee it will make any sense.

By the way, this is not an 'I don't know what to write about so I'll write about nothing' post. I have thousands of ideas on what to write about and this just popped (not to be confused with pooped) into my head, so for any of you out there who are thinking I am just being lazy well, HA! This is not laziness, it may be stupidity depending on the number of questions I do or do not get, but it is not laziness.

So for all you people all over the world who need to relax, laugh, get something off your shoulders, or whatever, go ahead and try it; does anyone have any questions?

About Smoking?

I'm a smoker (of tobacco)! There, I said it.  It's not something I'm proud of , but I have to say that it's not something I'm ashamed of either.

In recent years smoking has become something that I do covertly.  I hide because I can't take the looks of non-smokers as I puff away, so I retreat to an outside smoking area so as to avoid those looks that seem to say "why are you trying to kill me with your filthy smoking habit" or " why don't you quit that filthy habit so you'll live longer and not cost me higher insurance rates when you have to go to the hospital with some terrible lung disease that your sure to get because your a filthy smoker".

One of the themes in all this is that apparently I am filthy.  Being filthy used to cost a dollar a pack, but the non-filthy people decided that I was so filthy they should charge me six dollars a pack now.  I suppose it's to clean me up somehow by getting me to quit smoking so I can start calling other people filthy smokers. Then I wouldn't be filthy any more, I would just be opinionated and think I can call people I don't know filthy whores because they smoke cigarettes.

I don't want all you non-smoking, apparently non-filthy, people going shit bird crazy on me over the contents of this post, after all, I already pay to much to smoke, have higher insurance rates, am scrutinized and sequestered to some out of the way no man's land (where all the filthy people go) so as not to frighten or pollute non-smokers with my second hand smoke, and I'm compared to uncaring, rude, Nazi like people who are probably responsible for the end of the world (even though the end hasn't happened yet, but trust me, when it does happen it will be those filthy smoker's fault).

When you think about all that it's no wonder people think I'm filthy, I'm actually feeling kind of dirty myself right now.  I'm awfully glad all you non smokers out there care enough to call me names and look down on me and other filthy smokers.  After all everyone needs checks and balances in their lives and I'm glad there are people that volunteer to be checks and balances for other peoples lives because nobody is perfect, I guess.  Now that I'm all stressed, I'm going out to the designated smoking area (actually its the dumpster out back, down the path and behind the designated sugar free area, you will see the Smokers' Outpost Cigarette Receptacle - Black - Ash & Trash there) smoke and visit with the rats that hang around there. I've had the opportunity to give them names over the years, one is named Camel, one Winston, and another I call Pall Mall.

In all seriousness, I am aware of the health hazards involved with smoking and I am aware that it is a serious issue with our kids.  I do not mean to make light of this filthy, addictive behavior that is responsible for much illness and death around the world.  With that being said I feel guilty about writing this post and have seriously considered deleting it and starting over.  As is obvious I did not do that, I went and had a smoke and thought about it and changed my mind.  Guilt is now built in to smoking so it doesn't have quite the impact it used to, sorry...  I'll tell you what, come outside and try to find me when I'm on a smoke break and we will talk about it, just follow the second hand smoke cloud or look for Winston, he likes the designated no junk food area!   I think he's on a health kick lately, I haven't told him about the designated 'no rodent' area...

About Things To Remember When Your Older?

So here's my list of things you should do or remember as you get older. That's assuming that you can remember things as you get older, in case you can't (see number 1):

1. Take good notes!!! They may be fun to read later in your life or act as good reminder when you need to remember your name.

2. You may think your thirty when your sixty but, believe me, your body knows the difference between reality and wishful thinking.

3. No definitely means no unless your the one saying it, then the translation is evidently open to interpretation.

4. When you realize that everyone has started calling you 'sir' or 'folks' it means you either look as old as you are or they think you can tip well!   Either way it's not a good sign.

5. Just because you can bend over does not mean you can get back up (this may or may not be related to number 6 below).

6. Man boobs are real.

7. All those great actors your age that look like they are in the best shape of their lives and that seem to have the body of a twenty year old, have enough money to buy the body of a twenty year old. You will not look like them any more then you looked like them when you were, well, a twenty year old.

8. Money does not buy happiness, it just makes being unhappy more fun.

9. Being 'comfortable in your own skin ' not only applies when your being an arrogant asshole at twenty years old, it can also be applied to your actual asshole on a good day, when your seventy years old.

10. If you do not consider yourself a spiritual person when your young it's OK.  You will be a spiritual person when your old, because by then you will have tried all the other options and none of them will have worked. With any luck you get smarter as you get older.

And remember, it's not how many words you write, it's what you say when you write them.

About Being Grumpy?

All the people that are important to me have told me that I am a grumpy guy.   Some of my grand kids have actually said that I am the grumpiest guy they have ever known! Considering they are eight and nine years old it appears a possibility that I have been grumpy for at least that long.

My wife has also told me once that I was a grumpy guy, actually what she said was 'grumpy ass' which indicates that I may have been particularly 'ass' like on at least that occasion.  Come to think of it she has indicated that I am 'ass' like on more then one occasion so I am either an ass or a grump, or both?  It gets confusing.

Grumpy and 'ass like' seem to go together at least as far as my mood swings are concerned.  I make no conscious effort to be an ass, or to be grumpy for that matter, but I find that on the majority of occasions those are the moods (if ass is a mood) that seem to make me feel the most comfortable.

That does not appear to make the people around me comfortable however. As a matter of fact it pisses most of the people around me off, especially when I respond to their, "Why the hell are you so grumpy all the time" question with comments like "I'm not grumpy, this is my personality" or "I know you are but what am I?" The later of which did not go over well and actually caused my grumpy ass(ness) to become contagious, which started a spiral effect that was, shall we say, undignified.

My kids also seem to think I'm grumpy all the time, they don't call me a grumpy ass though, at least not to my face.  Once I actually asked the kids if they thought I was grumpy all the time. That question was answered with what I would describe as hysterical laughter immediately followed by everyone vacating the immediate area.   I guess they were afraid that I would become grumpy and say something like, "I'm not grumpy, this is my personality so all of you piss off" which, I admit, sounds grumpy but can also be explained by other personality disorders, not all of which involve grumpiness, but which can probably be defined with the word ass.

My pets avoid me sometimes.   By 'avoid me' I mean they leave the room when I walk in and hide in nearby closets or under beds.   I feed these animals every day and this is how they repay me which I don't appreciate or understand.  It is feasible that THEY are the ones that are grumpy instead of me! Feasible but not likely.

I don't know why I am grumpy all the time.  I do know that when I am around the people I care about I enjoy their company and feel like I don't deserve them sometimes (I just realized that I wrote that last sentence while that movie about the dolphin getting a new tail was on so just forget it.  I bet that dolphin was grumpy as hell!) I get grumpy when I don't want to get all sappy.  So for the rest of you out there in (no one ever reads my) blog land, if you think I'm grumpy all the time you can just piss off and leave me the hell alone!

I'm going to write about being happy all the time some day. Right now though, the idea of being happy all the time pisses me off so I won't write about it any time soon, it's just my personality. Writing about being grumpy all the time actually made me feel good! This will be the last post I write about being grumpy...

About The Olympic Games?

The Olympic Games start in a few weeks!  I love watching the games on TV.  In case you haven't noticed by now, Olympic athletes are not like the rest of us.  Just look at them and you realize immediately that we mere mortals just don't compare!  That's one of the reasons I fight depression while the Olympics are on.   For two or three weeks I get to be depressed and have my self image shattered beyond recognition while watching all the athletes from all the different countries swim, run, perform gymnastics, high jump, long jump (I think there is another jump but, I can't remember what it's called, maybe it's the pole vault) dive from a high place, dive from a not so high place, dive together, dive alone and do things I have not been able to do since I was sixteen years old, and even then I didn't do them very well.  It's not only injurious to my self image, but dangerous to my well being as well.

I have to admit that I avoid looking in mirrors when the Olympic games are on, that way I can look at all these athletes and imagine that my body is in the same shape as theirs without having it reality bite me in the ass.  I feel like I am part of the team then, and I usually try to go workout or something.  Injury is common for me when the Olympics are on.  There is only so much a body that has not worked out all year can do before it gives up.  You can tell yourself that you are in just as good a shape as the Olympic athletes all day long, but when you can't lift 75 pounds it becomes pointless and depressing.  I don't even try to swim, I would cramp up and drown after the first half a lap.  At least my delusion has a survival component to it.


I do feel more patriotic during the games.  Cheering for Team USA feels good and I am proud when one of our team athletes win a medal.  One year I actually had one of those silver medals, I bought it and wore it during the Games and I have to admit that it felt pretty cool, especially when I was standing on the winners platform I built!  When the games were over I took it off and put it in a box until the next games.  I suspect my wife has hidden it from me by now, she was embarrassed when I wore it to the grocery store, so I'll probably have to go out and buy a new one.  Maybe I'll get a gold medal this time.

The winter Olympics are different for me then the summer games. I  don't care much for the snow and cold, and I don't have to avoid mirrors etc.  Besides, the athletes at the winter games have more clothes on so you can't really tell that they are gods among men like you can the summer game's athletes, except for the downhill skiers.  You can tell they are in good shape because they wear tighter ski clothes to reduce wind drag as they fly down the slopes at a hundred miles an hour or so.  I don't watch the down hill skiing for that reason, it's not cold enough inside for me to walk around in ski clothes and my wife won't let me go out in purple ski outfits.  I don't want to go up on the mountain with one of those outfits on anyway, someone may think I can ski, then I'll have to show them by skiing down a steep slope at a hundred miles an hour or so at which time it will be back to the emergency room for me if history repeats itself as it often does.


So, I'm looking forward to the summer Olympic games.  I think I'll concentrate on the equestrian sports this year, that way I won't have to get depressed and wish I was in better shape, and I won't have to go workout and hurt myself again.  I just have to figure out how I am going to set up jumps in my back yard for the new horse I am going to buy.  The family will like that (maybe my wife will give me back my silver medal).  I wonder if Shetland ponies can jump?

About Old Stuff?

I've come to the conclusion that I really like old shit. Well, I don't mean old 'shit', I mean old stuff.

I started shaving with a brush and shaving soap a few years ago. I think I got the idea from and old episode of Gunsmoke or something like that. I liked the way it looked and have used that shaving method ever since. I don't use a straight razor though, I guess I've seen to many slasher movies and don't want to cut my own throat.

I like oldies music, and some old television shows. I used to really like the old science fiction show Star Trek, but I have stopped watching it all the time because I found it frustrating. If the old series is about the new future I decided it wasn't worth the grief.

I also used to belong to a history book club, but I stopped taking those books as well. I probably would have stayed with them if they had charged old prices for books about old stuff, but when I wrote them and suggested it they ignored me, so I stopped the subscription.

I don't like old food. Apparently everyone decided they don't like that because they started to put dates on stuff so you would know it was old. I suppose that's so you don't get food poisoning or something like that. I guess that's a good idea, putting dates on food that is. If they had done that a few hundred years ago or so maybe there would have been no bubonic plague outbreak. The plague was evidently caused by rats, or the fleas on them. I don't know if rat was on the menu in those days, but if it was it's probably one of the reasons we have warnings on our food. If people still eat rat today you have to wonder what the warning says on the package. It's probably something like 'WARNING, if you eat this rat after its expiration date you might get the plague'

The funny thing about old stuff is that everything is old the second after you have used it, eaten it, opened it, watched it or put it on. Cars are old the minute you drive them off the new car lot which is a bad thing. Houses are old after you've lived in them for a while. If you've lived in a house for a long, long time (a hundred years or so) however, old is good. In fact, they put your house on a register to tell everyone that your house is very old and they make sure no one can tear it down and put up something new.

I guess thats the reason I like old stuff, it's tried and true, unless it has an expiration date, then it's just old, and it might give you the plague.

About Typing On The Phone?

Now for something a little more, serious. Our damn computer died last week, in the scheme of things I know that the computer dying is not high on the OMG list, but to me it really, really sucks.

For one thing I have to write this blog on my phone. I don't know about the rest of you but I don't have, how shall I say this, dainty fingers. That means the key pad on this iPhone, which was designed for very small fingered people which most likely do not exist in this world (no I'm not going to go to the UFO place again..but, never mind), requires constant attention or else I end up writing and publishing words like 'phono minster' or beadtyballsuckie, in any case the dreaded "no replacement found" pops up when I try to fix the word.

I find that very frustrating, which usually means I write words like 'stoopaville' when I really meant to write 'sanity' (actually wrote samity there but a replacement word came up), or looser luscious when I meant to write 'losing Leena'. I don't know anyone named Leena, but it sounded like a good name and it worked here.

Besides the afore mentioned word problems my writings also looks like someone was murdered on the page. All kinds of things are underlined with little red squiggley lines. The only good thing about that is after so many red dots on a page you start to ignoreate them. I realize you won't see the little red murder dots so I thought I'd let you know that I know that you'll notice misspelled words.

Before any one suggests anything about rotating the phone to get a bigger keyboard, I tried it and yes, the key board was bigger, but the screen was smaller so I got confused and wrote a bunch of stuff that made no sense, kind of like this paragraph!

My daughter can type on her phone like it has a full sized keyboard! It's probably because she texts constantly and seldom uses the phone as an actual phone. I asked her if I could dictate some things to her while she typed but she just laughed and walked away typing something on her phone as she left.

Ian going to end thus now because I have nothing else to slay, play, nay, say! There, finally got it and it only took thirty inutes, oh forget it..

About UFO's etc?

Well, now I'm writing about UFO's! Some of you out there are going to think my writing has taken a distinct turn for the worse, not just in form but in subject matter, and some of you are going to think finally, someone is going to write the truth about extra terrestrial beings visiting our planet. And if the truth be told, most of you are going to think 'who gives a shit if this guy thinks there are little green beings (notice I did not say little green men, your welcome ladies for not leaving your gender out of the discussion as so many others have) and what the hell does he know about it any way?'

Therein lies the conundrum. Either you believe UFO's and all their trappings exist, you don't believe in any of it, and you probably don't believe in Bigfoot either, yeah right. Or you simply don't give a shit. And if you fall into the last category, I would be willing to bet that you don't believe in the Loch Ness monster either.

I for one, have decided that I am going to start believing in all of it. Let's face it ,it's much easier and kind of fun! I don't have to argue with people like former astronauts that say they saw flying saucers when they were in space, what they were doing looking for flying saucers when they should have been working I don't know, and I don't need to argue with any Scottish people who say they've seen the Loch Ness monster while they were out sun bathing on the beach next to the Loch (like Scotland ever sees the sun, who has ever seen a tan Scottish person?)

Now arguing with someone who claims to have seen Bigfoot (and who didn't have their cell phone with them so they could take a picture) is a little harder. After all, everyone knows that Bigfoot has been roaming the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest for centuries. Native Americans have drawn pictures of it and passed down a verbal history of contact with it. There are foot prints, hair, sound recordings of it screaming (always recorded in the middle of the night, I'm am not going to suggest the obvious about screaming in the middle of the night, my wife told me not to go there). The only thing we don't have, besides an actual, living (or dead) creature, is a picture. After all, evidently Sasquatch (that's the native American name for Bigfoot, they have much cooler names for stuff) investigators don't go into the woods with a cell phone or a camera so there is no reason to believe that when their investigation has brought them face to face with the big hairy guy, or girl, or when they're recording them screaming in the middle of the night (hmmmmmm) they are evidently in such shock it's unthinkable that they would have a camera with them so they could take a picture that didn't look like a blurry photo of something strange hiding behind a tree.

I mean it could be Sasquatch I guess, or it could be a little green being from another world (standing behind their little green UFO that's shaped like a tree), or a big kid, or even the Loch Ness monster (on vacation in the Pacific Northwest visiting family) or it could be well, just about any thing, or absolutely nothing.

I suppose that's the point. People see what they want to see and believe what they want to believe. Some hide from the light and some embrace it. What does this have to do with UFO's? Absolutely nothing, I'm just trying to throw all you women out there off the track after suggesting you may be from another planet.

With that being said, there is no reason to believe that I am going to suffer somehow for making any real or imagined suggestion that women, aliens, the Loch Ness monster and Bigfoot should all be lumped into the same category. I am going to stop writing now for obvious reasons.

About Riding Your Bike in Traffic?

I would like to write about a very sensitive (apparently) subject today. I made the decision to write about this subject because, while driving in heavy traffic today, I almost struck a (dumb ass, excuse me) poor bicyclist as he made every attempt, as far as I was able to tell, to get run over.

When I was a kid my parents bought me a bike. One of the first instructions I received, and I might add, an instruction that was repeated often (because I wasn't real good at listening to instructions) was, "Don't ride your bike in traffic!" In fact, this particular rule actually made sense to me, because I was aware that I was a dumb ass kid on a bike, and I was not wearing armor or even a helmet in those days. I'm sure they made helmets, but I was part of the macho generation and we would have rather had our skulls crushed then suffer the shame of being seen wearing a helmet.

Today most cyclists wear helmets when riding. Most of them also wear cute Lycra outfits. I suppose most riders believe that the helmet will protect them, I'm not sure what they believe about the Lycra outfits, although what I've seen so far indicates they are trying
to attract attention and it seems to work, if not in a 'what the hell is that guy thinking' kind if way.

I'm not sure when society decided that riding a bike in/through heavy traffic while ignoring traffic signs and signals, and changing lanes, usually from the far right lane to the far left turn lane, was ok. I'm sure it has something to do with being politically correct and allowing people to get themselves squashed by a bus if they want to.

Political correctness is also responsible for the confusion over some movies today. It is PC now, while watching a zombie or vampire movie, to refer to them not as the undead, but as the living challenged or differently alive. Please! Everyone knows zombies and vampires are the undead, and by the way, have you ever seen a zombie or a vampire riding a bike in heavy traffic? Even they know it's a bad idea! If anything, you may have seen them drive a car? How would you like to be on a bike in traffic with one of those guys driving around? Wait, kind of reminds me of the way my daughter drives.

Anyway, I guess my point is bikes are not Sherman Tanks. If your parents told you, as a kid, not to ride your bike in traffic that instruction actually applies to adulthood as well. It's kind of like when they told you not to jump off the house roof with a cape on, or don't drink the bleach.

If your going to ride your bike in traffic the only thing your helmet will do is contain the mess if you get hit by a car, and the only thing the Lycra outfit does is make people sick! Especially if they are in the car behind you, unless they're a vampire or a zombie.

About Microchips?

All right, I want everyone reading this to suspend your 1984, the government is spying on us (which they are, they just call it 'keeping us safe' or 'closed circuit television'), Orwellian thought process for a minute.

Ok, are you clear headed and paranoid free? Then consider this: Why don't we microchip our kids?

Now, before you wish the fires of hell upon me let's discuss this. We microchip our pets! If they get lost we can be notified in seconds, go to the local animal shelter and pick them up and bring them home to be reunited with your eight year old son, or daughter. I'm not even going to suggest a local shelter for our kids, I admit that might be to much, (notice I said 'might' be to much), and besides, what would you call it?

So, if we micro-chipped our kids and they got lost when they were with drunk Uncle Fred at the local fair because they walked away from him to prove they were independent eight year olds, when they were eventually found by a well wishing Girl Scout troop leader and taken to the security booth, all the security professional would have to do is scan the child with a grocery store type scanner and find the child's name, address, phone number and date of birth (you could add the child's date-of-birth in case the security professional tried to hold an adult conversation with the child. The security professional wouldn't have to embarrass themselves when they finally determined the child was only eight). Once this information came up on the security computer screen they could call the child's parents and have them come and pick them up.

The parents could even put a note on the microchip saying drunk 'Uncle Fred also has a microchip' so when Uncle Fred was found later that night, passed out by the hoop toss at the carnival, they could confirm his identity as well and have someone besides the police come and pick him up. This would save valuable time for the police who could then concentrate on finding the people responsible for selling counterfeit microchip scanners which, when used by security professionals, identified everyone they scanned as the manager of the local grocery store (whom was older than eight years of age).

Now, I admit I may have gone to far with this scenario (notice I said 'may' have gone to far). In reality we could chip our kids with all the information necessary to keep them alive in a medical emergency, really find them when they were lost, have their dental records on the chip and even have the teacher download their grades to the chip so when they were fourteen and got a D in math you would know so you could intervene and they could graduate with their class. Then the little darling could go on to college and become an (in-debt up to his eye balls with student loans) microchip scanner manufacturer, or maybe a grocery store manager.

I promise a more serious discussion about this subject at a later time, I'm busy looking for my dog right now, no microchip...

About Marriage?

Someone very special to me is getting married this weekend so I am going to be totally presumptuous and offer some completely unsolicited advice (for lack of a better word). Please keep in mind that i would not presume to say that i know everything about being a husband, just ask my wife! With that being said here goes:

Love: Someone once said that "love means never having to say your sorry", what a load of crap! If you screw up, and you will, have enough respect for your partner to admit it and apologize.

Communicate: you've heard it before Ill say it again; it isn't the talking, it's the listening...

Forgive: your going to have to remember this one. Sometimes people are just jerks, if you don't pick your battles there will be times when all you do is fight. Believe it or not you are not always right, admit when your wrong and remember you have not married Jesus! People make mistakes, forgive and forget.

Compromise: giving in is not a weakness, seeing someone's strong points is a strength, choose both..

in sickness and in health means exactly that, if you really, truly want your partner to be around for life it means your going to get old together and,if you don't know this all ready, old people get sick sometimes and taking care of a sick person is work. You don't get to say 'I can't do this'! You are getting married to a man however, let's face it, men are big babies so accept this truth and get on with it.

You might believe in 'for richer, for poorer' but if you think it's about money your wrong! Marriage is a living, breathing thing and it grows just like your kids will. Growth is not stagnant, by definition it is change and people change in different ways at different speeds. Adapt to those changes and make the best of them, believe me, you'll look back some day and celebrate the incredible journey. The riches are in the experiences you share, being human is, unfortunately the poor part.

Which brings me to 'for better, for worse'. I guarantee that sometime, some day your going to look at your partner and think what the hell am I doing here! well you can think it all you want just don't ever say it, and remember, it always get worse before it gets better, if it's worse now you have better to look forward to!

Everyone goes to bed mad sometime except perhaps the idiot who came up with "never go to bed mad at your partner". If its important enough to fight about its important enough to sleep on! Rest has an amazing way of clarifying, use it when you need to.

Support
Believe
Understand
Cheer

About Body Parts?

I was reading over some things the other day and came across an article concerning ideas that prompt writing, or maybe it was just 'writing ideas' (that don't do anything but give you ideas..you know what I mean).

One prompt that caught my eye was a suggestion that one write something about things they don't like about themselves. Now, me being me, I immediately went into self-check mode. I thought about my mouth and my lips both of which I didn't like as a teenager but I decided I don't mind so much now, then I thought about my ears.

I think ears came up because the other night my wife asked me if I had once sported pointed ears that had been surgically fixed to look like, well, I guess to look like ears that used to be pointed but weren't any more, but that had been fixed by a really bad plastic surgeon (I doubt she would have said anything if a really  good plastic surgeon had fixed them because she wouldn't have noticed).

I have to wonder if my wife has been thinking about the look of my ears for the last twenty years and just decided to throw caution to the wind and ask me about them now. You would think she would have asked before the kids were born so she could have been prepared for little pointy eared (elf) kids, or has she been secretly warning my now grown kids about the possibility of a recessive Vulcan gene in the family that may give their kids pointy ears. I have to admit that I think the pointed ear possibilities are pretty cool, my wife would not agree however, she leaves the room if anything science fiction comes on the TV, usually muttering "stupid show" under her breath as she walks out.

So I suppose it is obvious by now that those few little innocent words asked of me by my wife triggered something in me that came out when I read that writing prompt the other day. I am still thinking like a teenager and looking at my self in the mirror wondering why I have a bump here or a scar there. My wife on the other hand, is evidently looking at me and wondering either "what could possibly be wrong with this otherwise perfect man", or she's saying to herself "Dad was right, there's just something not right about this guy".

If my wife starts looking at my feet in a strange way I will probably get so paranoid that I will never take my socks off again. The truth-be-known I have always had a thing about feet, in fact I am not going to write about feet now because I get the heebie-Jeebie's just thinking about them (mine or any body else's). Come to think of it, I wonder what my wife was trying to say the other night when she asked why I always wear socks to bed?

about Mothers Day?

Now before you think this guy's has actually forgotten Mother's Day, I do realize what day it is.  I could write something here about my mother or about my wife who is, admittedly, not my mother, but is my kid's mother (and a darn good one).  Either way they will both read this post and anything I would write about either of them has the potential to come back and haunt me.  In the first place my wife has told me not to write any thing in this blog about her, so obviously writing this in my blog about her is a problem from the get-go.  In my own defense she also says I never listen to her and this is evidence to support that, so she might be okay with it because it is proving her correct. With that being said, has anyone dealt with insurance companies lately?  Just kidding, I am going to write a little about Mother's Day and suffer what ever consequence may come.

Before I got married, Mother's Day was always a time I thought of as a day to celebrate my mom.  Now, if you were to talk to my mom she may not remember all the great stuff I did as a kid on Mother's Day.  Her lack of memory may be due to the fact that, well, I didn't do a lot for my Mom on M.D.  In my own defense I was young, broke and of the belief that a home made card of macaroni was pretty cool.

I know now, as an adult (and I figured this out when I was twenty one or so), that this way of thinking, especially about the macaroni card, just didn't cut it any more so I graduated to flowers instead.  Let me just say up front that I had no idea what hay fever was.  Evidently, as I found out later, my mother suffered from hay fever and we are not talking about regular old seasonal hay fever but the knock you down, feel like crap, need shots from the doctor kind of hay fever.  Does anyone see where I am going with this?  Yes, I was directly responsible for making my mother sick every Mother's Day and when you factor in my brothers and sister, my mother was barely able to get out of bed on Mother's Day and if you include the grandchildren now,  I'm surprised she hasn't run away from home (which she did once, to Hawaii, but that's a different post). So for my mom Mother's Day apparently turned into a an exercise in trying to breath.

As for my wife; as I stated before she is not my mother although admittedly she may argue that point (not about being my mother but having to act like one, especially when I'm sick).  Over the years my wife has been instrumental in not only raising our children to be great people but in also assuring their survival in the face of well, me.  Now I don't want anyone to think that I was, or am, an abusive parent, let's just say that I have different 'buttons' than my wife and the kids learned early where they were.  My wife knows where my 'off switch' is and she knows how to use it.  Anyway, this women I am married to has become an expert in everything kids.  She remembers every birthday, anniversary, middle name, actual ages and the list goes on and on.  Now before one of you think to yourself that this is no big deal keep in mind that there are four kids and eleven grand kids and if you think it sounds easy try it!  So I buy her gifts every Mother's Day, not only to show her how much I truly appreciate her and all she does, but also to reinforce her behavior because if I have to start remembering all this stuff all I can say is I hope everyone likes macaroni cards...

About Bella?

I started out this morning thinking I was going to write this or that about well, this or that.  Instead I am going to concentrate on... who the hell knows.  I started this BLOG in order to fuel my need to write, and to take a break from other projects.  I figured there are hundreds of good BLOG ideas out there so I will be able to sit down at the computer and just punch something out whenever I feel like it.
Ha! So, I sat down at the computer and came to the realization after ten minutes of non-typing that I am a crappy writer who can't come up with any good ideas, and who would want to read it any way etc, etc.  So I decided to ramble!  It, after all, still feeds my insatiable need to write something and will probably sink me in to an even deeper depression when I check (probably fifteen times over the next day or so) and realize that in fact no one is reading my BLOG which may be a blessing.
So today I am going to talk about Bella Rose.  Bella is a cat.  Now for all you cat haters out there, and I know you exist because not only did I used to be one but my father had a fear of cats that I am sure was in some way hereditary, just bear with me and read on you may enjoy it.
Bella was a gift to me on my birthday a couple of years ago from my wife who decided that giving me a kitten would make me a better person.   After all they are cute and they sit on your lap and purr, and they act like you are the only person alive, especially when they are hungry.  Lets face it they are master manipulators who couldn't give a damn about you or how you feel or anything.  They decide when they are going to be nice to you and just to let you know that they are in control, when you play with them they scratch the crap out of you  for fun.
Anyway, Bella and I became good friends.  I tried to ignore the fact that over the years Bella developed an eating disorder which means Bella ate her weight in food whenever she got the chance.  I decided to put her on a forced diet to get her to lose weight and she decided that sucked so she just went out and caught something to eat.  Of course she would always bring it (bird, mouse, and once I swear, another cat although I can't prove it) home and show me that she was still in charge as she dropped the remains of some poor creature on the carpet in front of me. I, of course, said good kitty and patted her which is exactly what she wanted me to do, and then I fed her something and got rid of the corpse on the floor before she realized it was gone.  So, as you can see I lost that battle and Bella continued to grow...
We then, 'we' being my beautiful wife, decided that we would get another cat for Bella to play with.  Enter Harley.  Day one of the Bella-Harley play date was a disaster with Bella growling at Harley and Harley knocking the crap out of Bella whenever he got the chance.  My wife always said that Bella was never taught how to be a cat because she didn't really have a mother to teach her.  She was raised by humans and did not know how to respond to 'cat talk' which evidently pissed Harley off so he would, as I said, beat the crap out of her at every opportunity.
So the battle continued and during that period of time Bella became neurotic and adopted the attitude that our home is her cat box.  Now before all you cat experts out there decide on how I should have handled this  let me just say that I am a man and I am in control of every situation!  So when Bella started pooping and peeing all over the house I did what every other man in the world would do when he didn't know what to do, I ignored it.
My spouse, on the other hand did not (ignore it that is) and after she had to clean up Pee for the hundredth time she made it clear to me that it was my cat and she should not have to clean it up all the time.  I tried the old, but honey I didn't see, smell, suspect it routine but she saw right through that immediately and let me know that I was not in charge she was (which as every married man knows, is true whether you admit it to yourself or not).
So I started watching Bella like a hawk when she was in the house.  She knew I was doing that and would go from room to room until I tired of it and either put her out or, yes, ignored her thinking that she would not dare pee in the house now because I was in charge (denial again) and she was just a cat.. She continued to pee, and I continued to miss it, and my wife continued to find it and, well you get the picture.
Yesterday, after an argument with my wife, I decided that It was time to find Bella a good home where she could pee to her hearts content and I would not have to keep being in denial about it.  The local animal shelter was my only hope, mainly because I asked my daughter if she knew anyone who would take Bella and she basically laughed in my face with that 'I couldn't do that to my friends' attitude.  We loaded up and went to the shelter and before I could get in the door a nice lady named Gin decided she wanted to take Bella home with her.  After a few questions, which I tried to be open and honest about ('tried' being the key word here), Bella went home with Gin and I went home to Harley who is now beating the crap out of another cat we have.
Suffice it to say I am depressed today and I miss Bella although I doubt she misses me much because I have been following her around the house for months and she was getting sick of it and me.