Life's Autumn

2009-03-05T15:03:00.000-05:00

"Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery."

Winston Churchill

It don't get much more miserable than this.

Thank You

2008-11-06T10:25:00.006-05:00

To all of you who voted for: one party rule in America, a candidate whose skin color was more important than his character content, the foolish notion that our once great democracy needs “changing”, and candidates endorsed by silly pop stars, actors, the liberal media, and nations who hate America.

You are sheep and you have been led to the slaughter.

To all of you who, by your vote: made me afraid for the first time in my life, played right into the hands of the terrorist around the world who wish us death, put our servicemen and women's lives in even more peril, put in motion plans to dismantle our military, the thing that made America the strongest nation on earth, and will bend and break the Constitution.

You have succeeded in dousing the last flicker of patriotism.

To each of you who: could care less if those of us who paid your way, have a home, health care, just the bare essentials to live out the remainder of our lives, or wants to take away our savings.

You will bankrupt the system we paid into all those years and leave us sick, diseased, and feeble.

To God: for bringing me into this world, when he did, for all the blessings he has given me, and for the wisdom to realize that no matter what my generation does, it will not stop the destruction of the country I was once proud to call home.

You have shown your true colors; they are not red white and blue.

2008-11-05T07:05:00.001-05:00

2012 CAN'T GET HERE SOON ENOUGH

The Evolution of Math

2008-01-21T21:39:00.000-05:00

Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried. Why do I tell you this?Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 50s.

Teaching Math in the 50s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit?

Teaching Math in the 60s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100 His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

Teaching Math in the 70s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?

Teaching Math in the 80s

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

Teaching Math in the 90s

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers, and if you feel like crying, it's ok.)

Teaching Math In 2008

Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?

Lucy Foster

2008-01-07T13:54:00.001-05:00

I met Lucy Foster when I became a VIP (volunteer in parks) at Cumberland Island National Seashore. It was in the fall of 2004. My wife and I were on our way to Plum Orchard to do some cleaning. We were with another long time volunteer who knew “Miss Lucy”.

Her dog, Skibo, greeted us at her fence gate. She invited us into her cozy house at the chimneys, east of Stafford Mansion. Her family has retained rights for Stafford and the chimneys. It was apparent, instantly, that Miss Lucy was from pedigreed lineage: her manner of speaking, her gracious hospitality, and her composure. She was very light hearted and it was easy to see that she was somewhat of a character. I could have listened to her talk for hours.

E ach year before Thanksgiving, Miss Lucy came to her beloved Cumberland from her home in Baltimore She wintered there until Easter when her son would fly in to take her back north. It was a tradition learned, no doubt, growing up in the Carnegie family. Her great grandmother was Lucy Coleman Carnegie, once owner to the majority of Cumberland Island. She loved swimming in her heated pool, daily trips over to the beach, functions on Cumberland (such as the annual Thanksgiving luncheon sponsored by the National Park Service) and showing up almost anywhere on the island, unexpectedly.

Miss Lucy loved presents; not expensive or traditional gifts, just little surprises like baked goods, postcards, magazines, and books. We always tried to take her something when we would stop by to say hello over the next few years. She was always very gracious and made it a point to say “thank you” or even give a small remembrance in return. Once I took her some postcards and a book featuring art by a Florida artist who had given a program for the volunteers. She was thrilled and immediately began sorting through books on her coffee table. She selected one, “The Historic Splendor of Amelia Island”, opened it, inscribed it to me and wrote: “One good book deserves another. From Lucy Foster & Skibo Dog. Chimneys, Cumberland Is.” and the date. It will always be a treasure.

Once we were assisting with a Plum Orchard tour and we were upstairs at the mansion with a large group of visitors. I was at the rear of the group, near the grand stairway. I heard a voice from the first floor foyer: “heeelllloooo” . I responded “who’s there?” The voice responded “the ghost of Plum Orchard”. I recognized the voice. It was Miss Lucy. I went down to greet her and when the visitors made their way back downstairs, she regaled them with childhood stories of playing at Plum Orchard . She had everyone in stitches with her amusing anecdotes and tidbits of family history.

I last saw Miss Lucy on Sunday, December 2, 2007. I acted as a guide for a writer and photographer for a national magazine on Cumberland Island. I spent three days with them, and told them no visit to Cumberland would be complete without a visit to the chimneys and Miss Lucy’s. We had stopped by the day before. I went in alone and asked if I could bring them back for a visit the following day. As usual, she was delighted to have company. I told her we would return the next day. I brought her a tin of my wife’s fresh baked cookies. There were five of us; I told them that there might not be room for everyone in her den. She insisted everyone come in and join her by the fire. She told stories, asked and answered questions, and offered everyone something to drink. She accompanied us outside to the slave house chimneys, once part of a of Robert Stafford’s pre civil war plantation. Andy Anderson, world class photographer, took pictures of her to be used in the article for the magazine. She was a charming and witty. Our visit, though an hour or so long, ended far too soon since we had to catch the 4:45 ferry.

When we returned from a trip to north Georgia for Christmas '07 with our families, we found out that Miss Lucy was very ill and in the hospital. News of her condition was very hard to come by, because the family requested, and received, privacy from NPS staff on and off the island. She came home to Cumberland on Friday, January 4th.

Miss Lucy died Sunday, January 6, 2008 at the chimneys.

I will miss her smile, the mischievous twinkle of her eyes, and her wonderful stories.

and this is a tribute?

2007-08-17T15:52:00.000-04:00

Life, explained

2007-07-24T12:27:00.000-04:00

God created the dog and said:

"Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life Span of twenty years."

The dog said: "That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?"

So God agreed.

God created the monkey and said: "Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span."

The monkey said: "Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the Dog did?"

And God agreed.

God created the cow and said:

"You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years."

The cow said: "That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?"

And God agreed again.

God created man and said: "Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years."

But man said: "Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?"

"Okay," said God, "You asked for it."

So that is why for our first twenty years we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.

Life has now been explained to you

Source: unknown

Game Show Fixture Passes Away

2007-05-28T14:05:00.000-04:00

Charles Nelson Riley

1931-2007

(the headline on this post is a quote by the late Mr.Riley proving once again that you always think before you speak)

Imus In The Mourning

2007-04-10T13:42:00.000-04:00

There is a double standard when it comes to “offensive” statements made on the radio. Don Imus, in an ad lib*, called a team of female college basketball players the same thing many black hip hop and rap recording artists’ call black women in the lyrics** of many of their (and I use the term loosely) songs. This “I can, but you can’t” philosophy don't fly.

As soon as I hear some of these thugs apologize for calling women, and I don’t just mean black women, whores and bitches, then I’ll criticize Imus.

*ad lib-free form, top of mind, stream of conscientiousness, unrehearsed, un scripted

**lyrics-words for songs WRITTEN and copyrighted, ergo deliberate and planned

Liz Taylor, please return to your seat.

2007-01-26T14:00:00.000-05:00

Why, and furthermore who cares?

Robert Redford, please go back to your seat

2007-01-19T13:21:00.000-05:00

We'll tell you when to speak.

PS: You owe us an apology for the crappy movies you've been making for the past 20 years.

All Christmas Music, All The Time

2006-12-17T18:22:00.000-05:00

Radio stations that play all Christmas all the time are really a bore. There are only about 25 Christmas songs that are familiar or were hits songs. The programmng geniuses play every version of these of these 25 songs in order to fill up their hours. That's why we have to hear rudolph the red beaked raindeer (dean martin's version) at least once every 90 minutes. But, who listens to radio anymore anyway. The same all Christmas format architechs are responsible for the death of one of America's once great mediums. Come on me, don't be a scrooge. Let's all sing along: "grandma got runover by a ....".

Cynthia McKinney Removes All Doubt As To Her Sanity

2006-12-09T12:37:00.000-05:00

For her parting shot at cementing her place in the Idiots Hall Of Fame, Cynthia McKinney has introduced a bogus bill requesting the impeachment of President Bush. In the bill, she accused Bush of misleading Congress on the war in Iraq and violating privacy laws with his domestic spying program.

Let’s take a look at some of her other brilliant actions:

Accused The President of having prior knowledge of the September 11th attacks;

Accused The President of keeping quiet about the plans for the terrorist attacks to allow friends to profit from the aftermath.

Introduced legislation to establish a permanent collection of rapper Tupac Shakur's recordings at the National Archives and calling for a federal investigation into his killing.

Scuffled with a Capitol police officer, striking him when he tried to stop her from entering a congressional office building.

Accused Democratic Party leaders of kowtowing to Republicans on the war in Iraq and on military mistreatment of prisoners.

Unfortunately McKinney lives in Georgia.

Fortunately we have a place where she can retire, and the citizens of Georgia will foot the bill.

http://centralstatehospital.org/ !

Oh Gosh, I Forgot To Vote

2006-11-08T16:02:00.000-05:00

Every eight years the apathy of the American people allows the liberals to get their hands on the steering wheel. It happened again yesterday. Now we have to put up with their loathsome whining, denial of personal responsibility, and recklessness for probably about the next ten years.

New Yorkers elect low class, morally deficient, self serving people like Hillary Clinton as senator. San Francisco is the estuary from which the creature from Sodom & Gomorrah, Nancy Pelosi, was spawned. And Nevada, no poster child for the principles on which out country was founded, is home to Harry Reid, who uses his wife as a red herring for all of his under the table financial gains.

Mandate, I don’t think so. The whiners just showed up and voted. The lazy Americans, who know better, didn’t bother. If there’s one thing I don’t like about the American conservative, its complacency.

I did vote, but, hell I can only do so much.

World's Tallest Tower Rising In Dubai

2006-10-30T14:08:00.000-05:00

That's what I want to do. Build the world's tallest buiding in a country in the Middle East. And while I'm at it, I'll pick a country that's friendly with the United States. How many days will it take after the building is completed for some fanatic to fly an airplane into this behemoth? The older I get, the stupider the world becomes.

I'm not old enough for you to get married.

2006-10-15T15:43:00.000-04:00

Happiness comes in many forms. My little girl is engaged. No matter how hard I tried over the years to make her happy, I never came close ( as If I could make that magic) to matching the happiness she radiates now. I'll always be daddy, but now I must entrust her health, happiness, and welfare to someone else. I shall not worry, only celebrate her happiness.

La Historia De Hugo, El Pequeño Burro

2006-09-21T18:50:00.000-04:00

Although I am highly suspicious anytime Nancy Pelosi, Rangel, or any other Democrat has something nice to say about W, kudos to them for telling Hugo Chavez to shove it. This is one of those coinky dinkys (that’s a new phrase I just learned) about our democratic way of life. Our politicians, you’ll notice I didn’t say leaders, fight like cats and dogs, call each other every name in the book, and even stoop to sifting through their opponent’s garbage looking for dirt. But let someone from another country make inane comments about our President, and Katie, bar the door. It’s like the time I was in a bar in Houston one afternoon and there were several patrons who had clearly been over served. One guy was blabbing about something and someone at the other end of the bar (in an effort to shut him up) said something about his mother. The first guy went ballistic. “You don’t talk ‘bout my maaaama…I’ll (insert physical action) your (head, butt, or other anatomical feature) off and schtick it upyer (pick an orifice, any orifice) you son of a (choose any living creature). I oughta come down there and (pick any violent action) your (expletive of your choice) …well, you get the picture. In America, if you’re a citizen of another country there are two things you don’t do: disrespect our president or our mamas. I have something to say to Hugo (what a pansy name): Your mother probably taught you better…that is, if donkeys could talk.

Golf Carts, Immigration, and Viva FM

2006-09-12T14:36:00.000-04:00

The latest fad in our sleepy little seaport is golf carts. It’s THE thing to own. They’re actually licensed to operate on city streets. I suppose there are some regulations including flashing yellow warning lights. Each evening at dusk, those wanting to be seen and wanting to see others, whir around the ten or so square blocks of downtown carrying dogs, children, cocktails, or all three. Often children are operating theses motorized caskets paying no attention to stop signs or traffic. As soon as a three thousand pound hunk of steel mangles and maims, the fad will be over or restrictions so enforced that it will no longer be fashionable.

The whole situation reminds me that our government leaders, federal, state, and local, always wait until there is a crisis or tragedy to do what makes sense. Take this illegal immigration thing for instance. I lived on the border in El Paso in the early 70’s and it would have taken an idiot not of know that immigrants were crossing the Rio Grande by the hundreds each day seeking a better life (or perhaps a hand out) in the US of A. Now, in 2007 it’s a crisis. Thirty years, times three hundred sixty five days a year, times a minimum of one hundred border hoppers a day, equals over a million new people in the US. And that’s a reaaaalll conservative estimate. And we wonder why there are so many Spanish language radio stations?

I wonder if those guys up in the international house of space station can see the little flashing lights on the golf carts of St Marys? Maybe they think they're lightning bugs. (singing) "Glow little golf cart, glitter glitter". Damn, I starting to remind myself of Andy Rooney.

A Senior Moment

2006-09-09T17:29:00.000-04:00

A very self-important college freshman attending a recent football game, took it upon himself to explain to a senior citizen sitting next to him why it was impossible for the older generation to understand his generation. "You grew up in a different world, actually an almost primitive one," the student said, loud enough for many of those nearby to hear. "The young people of today grew up with television, jet planes, space travel, man walking on the moon, our spaceships have visited Mars. We have nuclear energy, electric and hydrogen cars, computers with light-speed processing ....and," pausing to take another drink of beer.

The Senior took advantage of the break in the student's litany and said, "You're right, son . We didn't have those things when we were young........so we invented them. Now, you arrogant little fart, what are you doing for the next generation?"

The applause was resounding.

(source: unknown)

Born in the 30's, 40's, 50's, 60's ?

2006-07-26T15:20:00.000-04:00

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes. Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking. As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat. We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this. We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because......WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!! We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K. We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem. We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video taped movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them! We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever. We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes. We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them! Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!! The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law! This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever! The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL! And YOU are one of them! CONGRATULATIONS! You had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good. And while you are at it, show it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were. Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?

(author: unknown)

Incompetence

2006-06-19T18:30:00.000-04:00

I’ve been trying to get a prescription filled for 12 days now. First, I took it to the pharmacy; “I’ll be back tomorrow to pick it up”.

Five days later; “since you didn’t pick it up right away we had to put it back up so you just have to re-order it.

Three days later; “your insurance company requires pre approval for it to be filled. We faxed a form to your doctor’s office, but they hasn’t faxed it back”. I immediately go three blocks to the doctor’s office; “the pharmacy said they faxed you a form to get pre approval from my insurance company for the prescription the doctor wrote for me on June 7th.

Receptionist: “I haven’t gotten nothing from CVS, what’s your name?” (How could she make that statement not knowing my name?).

“I was just there and they said they faxed it several days ago and the lady said she would refax it a few minutes ago.”

“Just have a seat and I’ll check on it “

“I don’t have time to have a seat; I’ll call in an hour or so, please see if you can find the form”

Today at the pharmacy; “we still don’t have pre approval from the insurance company. Your doctor’s office has to call Blue Cross and…………..”

“Yeah yeah yeah”

At Doctor’s office again: “I was here last week about the doctor getting pre approval for a prescription. The pharmacy said they have faxed the form to you twice”.

Receptionist: “I haven’t gotten nothing from CVS, just have a seat, what's your name and I’ll check on it “

If life were a movie, this is what I would have said:

“My name is hell and if you don’t get off your, wider than the rest of your body, butt and get that form approved and fax it to the pharmacy, I’m going to come to your house for breakfast. And then, I’m going over to CVS and open up a big drum of ugly”.

Life isn't a movie. It's a series of dealings with incompetent people. And you ask me why I blog.

Cycles

2006-06-08T11:01:00.000-04:00

I’m listening to Ol’ Blue Eyes. Nostalgic? Yeah, I am. Today I heard an old friend just found out he has stage four cancer. This is happening all too often in my life’s autumn. I spoke to him and he has a courageous attitude. No regrets, no desire to prolong his suffering, no desire to be lying somewhere while people parade in and out to watch him ebb away. “I’ve had a good life, and if this is it, so be it” is what he said. His only reason for agreeing to go to MD Anderson in Houston is to buy enough time to get his affairs in order. “I’ve got this house, land, a business and I have no idea what to do with all of it except make sure my family is taken care of”. He said the thing that was amazing to him is the outpouring of calls, messages, and contact from friends and acquaintances. All of us said “if there’s anything I can do, just ask”. If I were him, I would tell all of us to make this not be true. I fear that I would be cynical as hell. All I have to say about this right now is “it sucks”. I gotta go; the bass is thumpin’ the organ is playing, the drum brushes are doing a shuffle, and Francis Albert is singing “That’s Life”.

More Or Less, Make Up You Mind

2006-03-02T16:08:00.000-05:00

Recent polls and surveys (I don't trust either) say Americans want less government in their lives. Now comes a natural disaster of Biblical proportions, read Katrina. For several days prior to the arrival of this massive hurricane, the warnings went out. People, civilians, local, and state officials, ignored the possible impact. Public safety is the responsibility of (in this order): individuals, family, local law enforcement, local disaster management, state law enforcement, state disaster management, federal law enforcement, and finally, federal disaster management.

It's six ,months later, and we get the news that the president was briefed on the possible destruction a few hours before landfall. And the point is? The whiners want more government when it suits their needs and less when the government does things and takes action on issues that ought to be common sense (please don't construe this to suggest that everything the government does is in everyone's best interest). It reminds me of the story of the guy clinging to a life raft in the ocean praying for God to save him. A Coast Guard helicopter arrives; they drop a rescuer in a basket to the guy. He tells the rescuer "No thanks, God will save me". After repeated attemps to coax the soggy victim into the basket, the Coast Guard chopper left the scene. The guy was never heard from or seen again.

God helps those who help themselves. God also expects us to help our fellow man.

I believe in the power of prayer and I also believe a lot of people were praying before, during,and after Katrina. Those prayers were answered when hundreds and thousands of people had sense of enough to leave and to help others out of harms way. As soon as someone can prove to me that the president of the United States is more powerful than God, I'll start blaming him.

John Wayne, on Brokeback Mountain

2006-03-01T17:48:00.000-05:00

(in John Wayne voice) First, you tell me there ain't no s-a-n-t-a c-l-a-u-s. Now I'm supposed to believe that cowboys would rather get tangled up with each other than some pretty little gal over at the saloon? I guess next you'll try to make me believe that injuns are really a lost tribe of jews who are real handy with knives, bows, and arrows.

Dumb And Dumber, Part Deux

2006-02-28T17:43:00.000-05:00

Howard Stern, his former employer, Infinity Broadacsting (now CBS Radio), his new employer, Sirius Satellite Radio, any advertiser who spends money supporting this moron, anyone who subscribes to The Howard Stern Channel and it's assortment of freaks, and anyone who thinks he has even a modicum of talent.

Dumb and Dumber

2006-02-22T10:50:00.000-05:00

Arabs in control of US ports? What’s next, the airports?

Huh?

2005-09-28T09:27:00.000-04:00

One of mine and Miz Patti’s joys is sitting on our porch in the morning and drinking coffee. The birds sing their songs; squirrels are at work emptying our bird feeders. When the wind is from the south, the distinctive smell of the marsh wafts up our street. I’ve written about our slightly eccentric neighbor Booney. It seems that eccentricity has crept down the street to another residence. For months, the house was a peeling salmon pink, a rusting tin star adorning its façade. The residents are part-timers; they go away for weeks at a time. September is obviously their home improvement month. They scraped, sanded, primed and finally put on a coat of mist green paint. Then, without any warning, the “tacky” monster showed up and painted their front door bright purple. All right, that’s OK we said to ourselves (laying the blame squarely on the fact that on the coast, rules are different). Then, as if challenged to out tacky themselves, they put this checkerboard border around the windows and doors. It must be an enzyme in the marsh fragrance that affects the “good taste” portion of the brain. Yeah, that’s the ticket.

Price Per Gallon

2005-09-09T17:21:00.000-04:00

Think a gallon of gas is expensive?

This makes one think, and also puts things in perspective:

Diet Snapple 16 oz $1.29/$10.32 per gallon

Lipton Ice Tea 16 oz $1.19 /$9.52 per gallon

Gatorade 20 oz $1.59 / $10.17 per gallon

Ocean Spray 16 oz $1.25 / $10.00 per gallon

Brake Fluid 12 oz $3.15 / $33.60 per gallon

Vick's Nyquil 6 oz $8.35 / $178.13 per gallon

Pepto Bismol 4 oz $3.85 / $123.20 per gallon

Whiteout 7 oz $1.39 / $25.42 per gallon

Scope 1.5 oz $0.99 / $84.48 per gallon

And this is the REAL KICKER:

Evian water 9 oz $1.49 / $21.19 per gallon!

(Evian spelled backwards is Naive.)

Madeline Kahn sang it best:

2005-09-04T14:03:00.000-04:00

I’m tired. The name calling. The finger pointing. The race card playing. The political posturing. I would like to do something to help the victims of Katrina. However, I have chosen not to participate. My simple reason: apathy. I don’t care anymore. My care left the minute the vitriol began spewing from the mouths of the vocal minority.

Gas Pains

2005-08-30T15:00:00.000-04:00

Overnight, gas prices, at the convenience store where I regularly shop, went up $0.25. Flashback to last night about 7:00PM: I'm leaving work and I say to myself "I bet gas will skyrocket tomorrow". I based this on the fact that ABC, CBS, CNN, FOX, MSNBC, and NBC were doing their best to give gas station owners validation for what would happen, blaming it on hurricane Katrina.

Back to real time: It's 11AM, and I am driving down the street looking at gas prices from $2.65.9 up to $2.70.9…suddenly, like a shining beacon, I spot $2.45.9. I quickly pull in pop my credit card into the slot, get authorization, and start filling my tank. As I did so, an employee of the gas station came out with a big long pole and some pieces of plastic with numbers on them. I squeezed the gas pump handle to full throttle, seeing in my minds eye what was about to occur. That very gas coming from the underground tanks morphed from $2.45.9 to $2.70.9. How did the petroleum do that? Was it some chemical process akin to the biblical miracle when Jesus changed the water to wine? Was it done via computer from somewhere in the Sahara? Was this the Twilight Zone? Suddenly, the nozzle popped off. If I squeezed the nozzle again to top off my tank, would it be $245.9 or $2.70.9? I was more nervous that a contestant on jeopardy. Da da da da…da da da…da da da da da da dada da da (jeopardy suspense music). My palms were sweaty as I gingerly squeezed the lever. Whoosh, another 7/10 of a gallon, at the pre- miracle price, gushed forth, then click. I'd made it! I cheated the escalating gasoline price ogre.

Fast forward to 2055. At precisely the appointed time, the tiny chip implanted my grandson's inner ear starts streaming the news of the day.

"The Gas Price Commission released it's finding today in their three year investigation into unethical behavior of petroleum vendors back in 2005. Their conclusion is that 90% of the vendors acted in concert with the mainstream media to hose the American public."

The President's comment: "I don't want to comment until I've had a chance to read the entire report"

para mi hija

2005-08-28T04:36:00.000-04:00

1973, it was a very good year. We lived in New Haven Connecticut. I was program director at WAVZ. In the early morning hours of August 29th, your very pregnant Mom informed me it was time to go to Yale-New Haven hospital. I sat in the Father’s waiting room with a yellow pad in my lap, wearing tiny earplug, monitoring the radio station. Unbeknownst to me the doctor, nurse, or someone found out that I was listening and called Charlie Steiner, WAVZ News Director, to request that he break in with a news flash that Meridith Byrd Long had been born shortly before 7:00AM. He did but I didn’t hear it; I had fallen asleep.

“Mr. Long…Mr. Long”, the doctor said, “you have a daughter, would you like to see her?” As I held you for the first time, I felt tears well up in my eyes. You were perfect and your Mom was fine. I know I must have said a prayer of thanks. I called your grandparents in Georgia and Alabama. My next call was to your great grandparents, Walter and Minnie Byrd, in Reidsville, North Carolina. You were their second great grandchild. They were thrilled that your middle name was Byrd. Your first name was not spelled traditionally. I guess your Mom and I just had to be different! All the grandparents and your great grandmother Byrd came to visit and see you. I bet you were sore from being held so much!

Over the course of your first year, you had many exciting adventures. Shortly after you were born we moved to Boston where I was program director of WROR-FM, an RKO radio station. We lived in a 100 + year old farm house out from Hopkinton, Mass. That house was really neat. An old man named Cheney lived up the road from us. He was rumored to be a witch, dressed in black leather, and used to walk up and down our road. We went home (south) for your first Christmas. The first leg was to take us to Reidsville, N.C.. There was a terrible snow storm on the East coast and we got stranded in Washington, D.C. for several hours. It was a long night but I don’t remember your complaining except when you got hungry. A kind airline lady took your Mom to a private room to feed you. We finally made it to Reidsville where your great grandfather Byrd met you for the first and only time. He was very proud. After a few days, we went on to La Grange, Georgia and Wedowee, Alabama. The return trip to New Haven was an adventure. We flew from Atlanta to New York and due to bad weather had to ride a bus back to New Haven.

In January of 1974, there was a gas shortage and I had to wait in line at the gas station often. A huge blizzard hit that month and our power was out. I finally found a motel were we could stay and keep you and your Mom warm. Upon returning to the farmhouse, we found everything frozen solid and broken pipes. I wasn’t happy with my job. I was offered a job in El Paso, Texas. I flew there for the interview; when the plane landed and I stepped into the 70 degree sunny desert, I knew that wintry Boston was going to be a thing of the past. We moved in February. XEROK 80 paid for our move including our vehicles. We flew out of snowy Logan airport and landed in the Sun City. We quickly found an apartment in Coronado Hills, on the side of Franklin Mountain. It was beautiful. We hired a Mexican maid named Tencha who helped your Mom take care of you. I’ll never forget going to the drive-in one night. You and Tencha went along. I think the movie was “The Exorcist”. It scared Tencha to death. We celebrated your first birthday in El Paso. Your grandmother and grandfather Long drove all the way there for it. You were a mess. It was hard to keep from laughing when you would throw temper tantrums and throw yourself on the floor. Soon you learned that behavior was not going to be rewarded. It was an exciting first year for you. You are decent, funny, thoughtful, loving, smart, and beautiful. I am very proud to be your father.

Happy Birthday Beedis!
Su padre le ama mucho!

Booney

2005-04-04T01:39:00.000-04:00

Last night the old dude living across the street from me was at it again. Mowing grass in the dark. I think he's off his rocker. If the riding mower had lights on it, I could see mowing after dark. If it was hotter than hay dees , which it is here on the Georgia coast in the summertime, I might consider mowing after dark. Booney, that's what I call him, doesn't have or doesn't use (if he has 'em) headlights on his Murray. So you don't think I'm just being cruel, Booney does other weird suff. He likes to drive his big ol' Caprice around in his yard. I notice it mostly when I'm sitting on the front porch smoking, at night (Miz Patti don't 'llow no smokin' in the house). He drives around to his back stoop, stops, gets out, walks around to the trunk, opens it, closes it, then gets back in the Caprice and drives off through the side yard and up the street. Recently the Boonman cut some trees down in his back yard. They lie (chickens lay, things lie) there for about a week; one night I'm sitting on the porch and he drives around behind his house, does the gettin' out-goin' behind the Caprice thing, and when he heads out across the fescue, he's draggin' a big ol' branch. Pretty clever Boo Rad, drag those limbs over to the edge of the street and the city boys will haul 'em away. Wrong; he proceeds to drag the timber to the grassy knoll that seperates the street. He keeps doin' this for about a week 'till it looks like a brush heap in the median. What's next? You won't believe this, tonight he was up on his roof with a leaf blower. Booney my man, your antenna is pointed to a planet that isn't in our solar system and the reception is damn fine.

April Fool

2005-04-01T19:11:00.000-05:00

I gotta quit smoking. I can't imagine spending a hundred bucks or more a month on medicine to lower my chloesterol (or however you spell it). I spend that much or more each month on tubes of paper filled with a plant that, when burned and inhaled, put tar, chemicals, and Howdy Doody knows what else in my lungs. Over a hundred bucks a month for something I set ablaze and intentionally burn to the butt. Must be the hand mouth thing. Or maybe it's the taste with the first cup of coffee each morning. Yeah, that must be it, because the rest of the day my mouth tastes like well, an ashtray. What about the role models I had in my youth? They were cool when they lit up in the movies. Cowboys could roll 'em with one hand. Debonair gentlemen lit up when talking to a dame. A guy about to face the firing squad was given one before he ate lead. Hell, just writing about that made me slip into "movie speak". And what about the ads on tv? When you flew on an airlines they gave you complimentary packs. And the really deal clincher, they were forbidden for young people. Once I decided to smoke one of my grandfathers cigars. I carefully smuggled one out of the house, hid it behind his workshop for a couple of days until I go up enough courage to light it. I got caught because my grandmother saw the smoke coming from behind the workshop. My green color may have also contributed to my aprehension. They figured I had enough punishment from the Hav-A-Tampa and let me off the hook. Later that night, we all sat in the den at ther house and watched tv while my grandfather smoked Lucky Strikes. There was always a haze of blue smoke in the den when we watched tv in the evenings. He worked for American Tobacco in Reidsville, N.C. until he retired. Duh.