Trouble in a One Horse Town, On a One Lane Road

Those of you who know me, know where I live and have half a brain know that I live on a one lane road. I define a one lane road as a road where only one car can travel at a time. It is not a difficult concept. Any time you are in the immediate area around my house and travelling by car you must be wary of cars coming from the other direction and take appropriate action to pass, i. e. one of you must find a way to get off the road.

I commuted to work via my bicycle yesterday. FYI my trip to and from work, like all Seattle people this time of the year, takes place in complete darkness. I am lit up like a Christmas tree to heighten the awareness of my presence for all the knucklehead drivers out there. I have a stunning front light, that strobes, I have two annoying red strobe lights from the rear and I have a safety light from the side that can only be described as a tow truck at a five car pile up. Short story - I think I am pretty easy to see.

When I ride home I ride up Avalon, a long semi difficult hill which now has a groovy bike lane (thank you Mayor McGinn), and then I cruise down 35th until I get to Spokane and slide down my hill, on a fricking ONE LANE road.

Last night on my peaceful way down Spokane (which takes two or three tight turns) I had just turned and was coming down hill number two when a SUV turned the corner at the bottom of the hill and, there is no other way to put it, gunned it to come up the hill. I stopped in the middle of this one lane road and hoped for the best. And my prayers were answered as the racing SUV came to a force full stop just in front of my bike. The distance of this hill is about 50 yards.

The lovely woman in the car rolled her window down and yelled "what are you doing in the middle of the road". My reply was simply "trying my best to be seen". And then I said "Why are you going so fast on a one lane road?" Her reply was that it wasn't a one lane road and that I was being ridiculous. Need I mention that she had a toddler and a baby in a car seat. I told her she was an asshole and needed to slow down and use more caution, and left her there to ponder my instructions.

This brought home a recurring thought that I have been pondering about the hypocrisy of the American Suburban Housewife (ASH). As a bike rider, these people have surpassed the stereotypical Asian drivers, pizza delivery hounds and teenagers as the horrors of the road. I have noticed that this category is more likely to be speeding, driving on side roads, and most apt to be on their cell phone. I once even saw a ASH driving, talking on a cell phone AND making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - TRUE STORY!

And here comes the big hypocrisy - should any poor, minority buss driver be seen talking on the cell phone while driving their precious children on a school bus they organize a brigade to make sure this bus driver never works again.

Orange Schools fire bus driver for cell phone use | cleveland.com

www.cleveland.com › Chagrin Solon Sun › News

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Jul 28, 2011 – The Orange Board of Education terminated a school bus driver for making a personal cell phone call May 26 while the bus was in motion and ...

School board says bus driver used cell phone multiple times after ...

www.abcactionnews.com/.../school-board-says-bus-driver-used-cell-...

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Aug 2, 2011 – A Pasco County school bus driver is out of a job for using her cell phone while driving students. School board members decided Monday night ...

The author of this blog (should he ever be called that) does not condone cell phone use while driving, but is simply pointing out that the fact that it seems EVERYONE does it, but that NO ONE can tolerate this behavior in OTHERS.

Laurelton, NY

A redo of an old post, but now I have pictures and videos of the old house.

My early memories are of Laurelton NY. Which was out in Queens kind of close in on Long Island. My Grandmothers house, where we lived when my father was away on ships. A tight little neighborhood (tucked into the big city) that was friendly and allowed a young boy of my pre-school age the run of the block. There was a big (in my mind) back yard. I played there endlessly and I am sure if you were to buy the property today you could dig the back yard up and find a hundred metal soldiers and metal cars that might fetch the cost of the house in auction. The back yard was also a squirrel sanctuary and I would spend many a morning at the kitchen table watching the squirrels run all over the yard. At that breakfast table was always something wonderful DELIVERED every morning from Enteman's Bakery, along with the delivered milk, and some chocolate milk if I was lucky and had been deemed to be a good boy.

In the front yard there was an Umbrella tree (called that because no rain ever hit you sitting under it) with a metal bench rocker that could fit two or three people. There was a brick porch (painted red) and the siding on the house was roofing material, meant to look pretty..not artistic. In the evenings people in the neighbor hood would walk by, stop and chat and we too would walk the block and stop and chat with them. There was a boy (a teen, named Billy from a recent conversation with Aunt Frannie) that lived down the block who was a spastic (or so they called them that back then) who would walk by dragging his feet, arms bouncing around in the air. He would always stop and talk to my two aunts (teenagers at the time) who were always so nice to him. Across the street and down to the left was an old brick Jewish Synagogue that had a wonderful back wall to throw a ball against. I spent many an hour there practicing my future as a big league pitcher.

My Great Grandmother Cook would sit in the attic of the house peering out and would call me to come sit by her at times. Her room was a shrine to Jesus with scary pictures of him on the cross everywhere. She would sit on her bed, rubbing her legs and knees and tell me what it took to be a good boy and how I should behave. I would sit and fidget and occasionally stare out the window and see who was doing what. She would point out boys I shouldn't play with and tell me all the bad things she had seen them do, and of course I could not wait to go out and catch up with them.My Aunts would torment me. Calling me names and always trying to hug and kiss me; yeeech. My Aunt Franny was dating my Uncle Frank back then and I always enjoyed it when he was around. Such a cool guy. He would talk with me and treated me so well. I also remember Aunt Vickie dating Bobby Girardi (as he was called then, I believe he has turned into Robert) and Bobby was a smooth hip guy and was good to me as well. I am sure I was just a little pest to them all, but it was neat to be part of such a family with big people doing semi grown-up things.

Every afternoon (and I never wised up) my grandmother or one of my aunts would call me in and tell me my favorite show was on. Sucker that I was I would race in, lay down on the floor in front of the TV and watch the words roll down the screen (early cable news) with soft music playing and pictures of puppies or rabbits in the background. I would lie there impatiently at first waiting for that damn show to start (because it was my favorite, and I certainly did not want to miss it) and before I knew it....they had tricked me into my nap, again.

Coney Island, More Questions than Answers

I love New York. And I love Coney Island. What is not to like; Nathan's, the boardwalk and much more. My first stop (after visiting my 105 yr old grandmother and my wonderful Aunt Frannie and equally wonderful Uncle Frank) was Coney Island. And what a day. Sunny, sixty-five degrees. I stopped at Nathan's and had two dogs (Peggy is in Seattle!) and walked the boardwalk and saw the sites. I love Coney Island, it is one of my happy places, perhaps my favorite. Yeah, it is run down, scary and has seen better days; but I love being there, people watching (no better place in the world) and just hanging out.

And EVERYTIME I go there I always walk down far enough to see the outside handball courts that are on the non seas-side of the boardwalk and I watch the men play handball. And do they ever play hard. There is a crowd playing every time I go there, no matter the weather. They are not great athletes, they will never be on TV but they play a silly game so hard, like their life was on the line. It is real to them. They play for pride and for something we all need to reach down and get in touch with....they play to compete. They want to feel like winners.

Lets face it, if you can hang out at 2:30 and lay it all out on the handball courts of Coney Island on a Wednesday, you probably do not have that much going on in your life. Most likely not much else in their lives make them feel so good. But there they are every time. Someday I want to dare to go down and play.

Watching them today it made me think about my need to compete. Where did it come from, where does it come from? It made me think of playing ball in the street, it made me think of playing all sports all the time against my brother and whatever boys were in what ever neighborhood I was in. It made me reflect on what drove me, how did it make me feel and why was I doing it? Some day I want to dare to find out the answers to those scary questions.







I love New York. And I love Coney Island.

BMI, I Still Do Not Believe in It

I was all set to write a post about how my attitude changed towards the BMI weight index. I was so sure that my recent weight loss was going to make me a believer in this stat. I was all set to do a "Wow, once you embrace healthy eating, you change your mind about the BMI". I was going to encourage everyone on the planet to embrace it and get real with themselves and loose weight. Isn't that what people who "get religion do"?

Before my cardio scan scare my weight was 215. Well, that is the weight I published. It was a little bit above that, more like 218. 220 was my Uh, Oh weight. You know the weight you reach before you say, Uh Oh I better cut back, more on this later.

But, this morning I checked my BMI and it STILL has me listed as overweight! I am now down to 195. I haven't been in the 90's since before the 90's! And I am still overweight by BMI standards, thus government standards? Give me a break. Yes, I still have some flab, I certainly could not make it as an A & F model. But overweight? Something is very wrong with the BMI index.

I started playing around with the BMI calculator. Would I be considered "not overweight" after losing another 5 pounds - a distinct possibility giving the food choices my current nutritional nazi is awarding me. No. Losing 5 more pounds will not give me normal status. I have to get to 189 to be at the top range of normal. 165 would put me in the middle of normal, a weight I presume the BMI index wants me to be. At 165 I am not sure I would be allowed out on windy days. I weighed 165 my junior year of high school.

Then I got a little crazy. How light would I have to be to be considered "underweight"? The answer - 140. I think if I got cancer and wasted away to nothing that I would die before I got down to 140. I think my bones alone weigh more than 140.

I do not get the BMI.

Now, on the subject of Uh Oh weight. Am I alone in having an Uh Oh weight? Boy looking around it either looks like I am or some people out there need to adjust theirs, 'cause theirs ain't working for them.

Time Alone; Our First Guests and First Big Hike

After coming back to Seattle for a pesky 401 K audit I was able to sprint back to Montana on Sunday just in time to have a quiet romantic dinner with Peggy under the Montana stars

During this last week in Montana we also hosted our first guests and had time to explore our part of Montana a little bit.

Scott Brunner and his lovely fiance Kathy came out to Montana to explore with us. Peggy and I were a bit envious of Scott and Kathy's vacation. They took their RV to Walla Walla along with Kathy's Honda and bikes. They spent time bike riding in Walla Walla and then drove just the Honda to Montana and brought their bikes arriving Wednesday. We fished, we hiked and we toured Red Lodge, and went on a glorious hike to lake Souix Charley, the headwaters of the mighty Stillwater River.

The hike was spectacular and little Neko made the trip (almost) the entire way, of course she drank from the river all the way up and down and I drenched her with river water with each stop.

It had to Happen, It's now Official

One down, one to go. Yes, I finally own a pair of cowboy boots. And man are they comfortable. I was wrong about them.

I had always secretly wanted a pair, but could never get the gumption to buy a pair. I would rationalize that they would hurt my feet. I made runs at them at stores before, but was always overwhelmed at the choices and the price. Trying them on was no picnic either. Something about my foot, something about cowboy boots.

These went on hard and awkwardly at first. Now they are starting to get broken in and they almost slip on. They feel great and I can wear them for ever.

Now I just need to get over my fear of horses and I will be ready to run away with the rodeo.

Blast From the Past

I haven't seen one of these in years. I bet they do not make them anymore. They are probably too dangerous. I saw this in traffic and had to get a picture at the light. I sure hope this was not going to the dump. I would have begged the owner to give it to me and not toss it.

You just do not see them anymore.

I remember Peter going beserk on one of these. He could make these horses go. And sometimes it was not comfortable to watch.

Construction Job Just out of Absorkee

What a week. Hard grunting manual labor at its best. My legs hurt, my hands hurt and are full of splinters. Have not had too much down time. Peggy and I have found some time for some walks. And we were stalked by some wild varmints, although they did have a bit of a domestic look to them.



Here is where we have gotten to by Thursday. We did not get really started until 3:00 Monday. The lumber drop came late, and we have been working our tails off for most daylight hours. It is starting to take shape. And it is going to be a beauty.



Here is the view from the future guest house above the garage.

We arrived safe and sound at the cabin after a two day road trip. A nice stop in Coer de' Laine (sp??) Idaho. Peggy is the pokiest travelling campanion. I will have to see just what kind of time I can make next Sunday when I drive home alone for the 401 K audit, asssuming there is any money left, we folks way out here in Montana DO get the news from the big city, and I hear it is not good.



On my first day of fly fishing I caught a fish! We went into Red Lodge on Saturday. Peggy bought me a fly fishing rod and reel and 13 flys. I added a goofy hat and viola', I was a fly fisherman. I practiced some in the yard, tied a fly on and went down to the Stillwater just before dinner. I fished for about 30 minutes. I thought I had snagged again, but this time the snag was moving! After a small fight I landed a good four to five inch trout that must have weighed at least 8 ounces. I was so excited that I slipped and fell in the river during the fight, but managed to keep the pole up and out of the water. FYI, I am a catch and release fellow.


Nothing in the world nicer than taking your morning cup of coffee out on the deck facing east, and watching the sun come up over the mountain.

I Can't Stand the Republicans and the Tea Party

Just thinking about the Republicans and the debt limit makes we want to run off with Palm Apodoca from Five Easy Pieces, I mean, I don't even want to talk about it.


Please note that I am so down on the Republicans and the Tea Party that I now even use Russian U-Tube! I don't want to talk about it.

The Tea Party people are just crap and more crap, really, I don't even want to talk about it.

But wait, there IS more

Lab Results

Little Walter at the doctor's on Monday

Well, I did not hit the goals that my 14 year old Hindu girl cardiologist set for me, but Dr. Bruce said that was impossible. But I did reduce my overall cholesterol by 12% and my bad cholesterol by 21% and I increased my good cholesterol by 7%.

A big wonderful improvement. Well worth the effort and enough positive reinforcement to keep me on vegetables, fruits, tofu and whole grains.

Day II, Way Better than Day I

Baseball ended on 7/17 and I no longer have to run around after work racing to games, practices and hauling helmets, balls and other gear. In other words, no more excuses to NOT ride my bike into work everyday.

Last week I took the Honda in to work a couple of times during the nice weather. I also spent some time looking at new bicycles and on Sunday I bought one.

It is the Novara ETA, gotta love a bike named ETA. After discussions with Martin, a father of one of my players, and a big cycle enthusiast I went a bit more that I would have in the price dept. I got one with disk brakes (to really control my decent from our giant hill) and I think it also came with better gear molecules or whatever stuff Martin was talking about, I don't know I wasn't really paying attention.

It is pictured above and it is really cool. I like the color and it seems to ride faster than my mountain bike. It is waaay easier going up hills. The mountain bike will head to Montana and stay there as a true mountain bike should. I know it will be happier there, and I will be happy having a mountain bike there.

Yesterday I had an early morning Dr. appointment (more later) and my commute to work coincided with our thunder storm. My lesson learned was to ALSO bring extra socks, shoes and underwear - tough barefoot commando day at work, 'nuff said.

From our recent guest Tom's suggestion I have altered my route home. He noticed the giant nasty hill that would be my last effort on my journey and indicated that it might be better to go up Avalon (an easier, but longer hill) which would take me a bit out of the way, but leave me a nice cool down stretch that would be better for my heart and give me some recovery time. Great idea and I did it yesterday and will do it from now on.

Speaking of heart, I went back in for my physical yesterday to get some updated cholesterol readings. My 14 year old Hindu cardiologist wants me to get my bad cholesterol under 70 and my good above 50. I told Dr Bruce that I was sure that I had nailed these goals (based on the tofu, bran and other just plain ugly food that my resident nutritional Nazi(who swears she loves me and is doing this out of love)has me eating. I have lost over 15 pounds and am now on the good side of 200 pounds. I was just about to enter into negotiations with Dr. Bruce as to just what nailing these numbers would mean, and he stopped me cold and said, "there is no way you are going to get under these numbers!". WTF???? He showed me a chart of all my cholesterol numbers from a snapshot of my life and replied that diet for me might account for a 10% decrease, maybe 20% if I had been a really bad eater. Well, I HAVE been a really bad eater, so maybe I can get a 20% decrease, but here was his advice.

Forget fast food, pizza and sausages, but feel free to resume eating a reasonable portion of red meat at a reasonable pace (ie once a week, or so). Continue to run from processed food and the evils of white bread, white pasta and their like. And to thank my nutritionist who must truly love me.

Seattle International Film Festival

Gorbaciòf - The Cashier Who Liked Gambling

* Gorbaciov-il Cassiere Col Vizio del Gioco


What a face! What a guy he portrayed. What a job of acting.
Saw this movie last night at the Admiral Theatre. Loved it. So powerful. The professional review is below. My new most favorite movie line was spoken in Chinese to a man who only spoke Italian, and of course translated to me via sub titles. It WAS the main point of the movie, and the fact that the star of the movie could not understand the words, only highlighted that he couldn't understand his life, his problems and his own looming tragedy.

"when the tigers are away, the monkeys will act like tigers,..... but they are still monkeys. You are a tiger."

Compulsive gambler and petty thief Pacileo works as a cashier in Naples’ Poggioreale Prison, taking bribes from inmates’ families to secure extra perks for their relatives behind bars. Nicknamed “Gorbaciòf”—pronounced “Gorbachev”—because of a large birthmark on his forehead, Pacileo’s swagger and ill manners hide his inner turmoil and loneliness. He spends his off-hours playing high-stakes poker in the back of a Chinese restaurant, where the attractive young Lily works as a waitress. A surprisingly tender relationship develops between the illegal immigrant and the gruff, greasy-haired Gorbaciòf, despite her inability to speak Italian. To feed his addictions and to buy Lily small gifts, he occasionally dips into the prison funds, but his “borrowing” habit turns deadly serious when he covers the massive gambling losses of Lily’s father, the restaurant’s owner. Italian film and theater star Toni Servillo (Il Divo, Gomorrah, A Quiet Life) once again shows remarkable depth as the nearly mute Gorbaciòf. In fact, dialogue is used sparingly throughout the film; instead, director Stefano Incerti (The Man of Glass) relies on innuendo, subtle gestures, and Servillo’s rubbery facial features in this nuanced portrayal of two dead-end lives transformed through love.

And Now a Word from My Inspiration for Having a Blog

the young dangerous Trudell










The current Trudell

An article off the web, but I think Dick Shovel

The Peltier assassination effort appears to be only one of several abortive but deadly FBI counterintelligence operations directed at the remnants of AIM during the late 1970s and early 1980s. Another, even grimmer example concerns the death of the family of AIM's last national chairman, John Trudell:

In February 1979, Trudell led a march in Washington, D.C. to draw attention to the difficulties the Indians were having. Although he received a warning against speaking out, he delivered an address from the steps of the FBI building on the subject of the agency's harassment of Indians...Less than 12 hours later, Trudell's wife, Tina, his three children, and his wife's mother were burned alive in the family home in Duck Valley, Nevada - the apparent work of an arsonist.

Further detail:

On the Shoshone-Paiute Reservation of Duck Valley, straddling the Nevada-Idaho border, at 1:30 a.m., February 12, 1979, a fire ripped through the house of Arthur Manning and his family. Manning was a member of the Duck Valley Tribal Council who was actively working for Shoshone-Paiute treaty rights. Opposition to Manning included the local tribal police chief, Benny Richards, a former member of the Wilson goon squad on Pine Ridge [and brother of intended Peltier assassi Chuck Richards; both are of the Pine Ridge 'Manson Family'], and the local BIA Director John Artichoker, also from Pine Ridge. Manning's wife, Leah, was a coordinator for social services on the reservation. Their daughter, Tina, had been working actively in a local campaign to preserve the tribe's water riights at Wildhorse Resorvoir; she was opposed by the local BIA, Elko County [and] Nevada officials, the water recreation industry, and local white ranchers. Tina's husband was John Trudell, national chairman of AIM [from approximately 1974-80]. The Trudell's had three children: Ricarda Star [age five], Sunshine Karma [three], and Eli Changin Sun [one]...The fire [caught] the entire family asleep. Dead were Leah Hicks-Manning, her daughter Tina, and the three young children. Arthur Manning survived the blaze. The BIA issued a statement saying the fire was an accident. Trudell believes his family was murdered.

The basis for Trudell's belief rested in his AIM activities in general, and with regard to the Peltier case in particular.

During the Peltier trial in Fargo, North Dakota, Trudell had returned to the courtroom one day when a marshall informed him that he would not be allowed inside. An argument ensued, and Trudell was evicted. He was later arrested for the incident, charged with contempt of court, convicted before [U.S. District] Judge Ronald Davies, and sentenced to sixty days in jail. He served his time in five institutions in three states [a matter clearly reminiscent of the handling of Leonard Crow Dog]. While in Springfield Prison in Missouri, he was told by a fellow inmate that if he did not stop his Indian rights work his family would be killed.

Of course, as is indicated above, the Mannings had no shortage of enemies at Duck Valley, any one or group of which might have perpetrated the fatal arson (assuming it was arson - despitte the obvious basis for suspicion, and Trudell's repeated allegations in this regard, no formal investigation of the fire was ever conducted by the FBI). However, given the overall contect of apparent illegalities involved in the FBI's anti-AIM operations, and the concomitantly high stakes which would be involved in their disclosure, more than usual heed should be paid to Trudell's contentions:

When I got sent up for sixty days, that time in Fargo, I was approached by another inmate, a guy I didn't know, and he started talking about my public statements. You can't go around talking that shit, he says, you better get out of the country. You don't know these crazy bastards [the FBI] - they could kill your wife and children. Well, I was suspicious of the guy's so-called warning at the time; that was a message John Trudell was supposed to receive. I knwo who did it. What I still don't understand is why; it was so unnecessary. But it was arson, and it was deliberate - an assassination. Those people did a terrible thing; they should think a long, long time about what they did.

Trudell has explained that, in essence, he believes the death of his family was 'set up' by the FBI as part of its strategy to silence his and other AIM members' attempts to draw broad public attention to the Bureau's pattern of abuses concerning AIM in general and Pine Ridge in particular [see earlier post entitled AIM, Pine Ridge, and the FBI]. He attributes the emphasis placed upon himself and his family in this regard not only to his high position within AIM, but to the FBI's assessment of his special talents as a speaker/organizer, repeated over and over in the investigatory documents amassed on him between 1969 and 1979 (some 17,000 pages of which were released in a FOIA suit in 1986):

Trudell is an intelligent individual and loquent speaker who has the ability to stimulate people into action. TRUDELL is a known hardliner who openly advocates and encourages the use of violence [i.e., armed self-defense] although he himself never becomes involved in the fighting...TRUDELL has the ability to meet with a group of pacifists and in a short time have them yelling and screaming 'right-on!' In short, he is an extremely effective agitator.


Trudell's words -

My Heart Doesn't Hurt Anymore

I think about how I'm doing
but I don't know what I'm thinking
Shattering into shadowlight
Reflecting thought I can't relieve

My heart doesn't hurt anymore
But my soul does
Maybe that's what souls are for
To take the hurt the heart can't take

Distance, playing tag, playing tricks
with whatever it is I can't find
My weaknesses are my bandaides
Covering for how I don't bleed

And all the stones I threw
Some were for flinging
Some were for bringing
And some, I never knew

Living, painted into a picture
Dripping off all these paintings
the colors of emotion
Seeking some kind of devotion

Some things are private
Between me and the dead
and some of the rest
Is better off left unsaid

Surprise Surprise, Oh What a Feeling!

I had lunch with my mother yesterday. She is off to Arizona today for her annual Spring Training Trip. At lunch she saved my life. She gave me an anniversary card. She said she had to give it to me a day early, because she would be gone on the actual date.

Yoiks! I had almost forgot!!!!!

Luckily for me Peggy has been swamped with work. The evil side of me thought that I should keep this a secret and surprise her with a card and gift, and play the guilt card very heavy when I caught her short-handed. But I couldn't do it.

After lunch, I called her and told her the news.

Yoiks! She had forgotten too!

Isn't that great. Two calender challenged people finding true love in the crazy, fast paced rough and tumble world. We laughed and decided that we should probably go out for a nice dinner or something, if we could find the time.

I am so happy to share my life with such a low key calender impaired woman. The fact that she is my calender girl only makes it better!

I love, I love, I love my calender girl
Yeah, sweet calender girl
I love, I love, I love my calender girl
Each and every day of the year

(January) You start the year off fine
(February) You're my little valentine
(March) I'm gonna march you down the aisle
(April) You're the Easter Bunny when you smile
Yeah, yeah, my heart's in a whirl
I love, I love, I love my little calender girl
Every day (every day), every day (every day) of the year
(Every day of the year)

(May) Maybe if I ask your dad and mom
(June) They'll let me take you to the Junior Prom
(July) Like a firecracker all aglow
(August) When you're on the beach you steal the show

Yeah, yeah, my heart's in a whirl
I love, I love, I love my little calendar girl
Every day (every day), every day (every day) of the year
(Every day of the year)

(September) Light the candles at your Sweet Sixteen
(October) Romeo and Juliet on Halloween
(November) I'll give thanks that you belong to me
(December) You're the present 'neath my Christmas tree

Yeah, yeah, my heart's in a whirl
I love, I love, I love my little calender girl
Every day (every day), every day (every day) of the year

Sick of Union Bashing

I hate Scott Walker, what a jack-ass. Union buster.

And I am sick of all the bandwagon Republicans supporting him and leading him on. And I am most sick of their seemingly #1 beef with the unions.

"these union workers have it soooo much better than the rest of the workers in America."

"these union workers need to realize that nobody else gets these great benefits"

Yeah, nobody who ISN"T unionized gets them. They do not get them because for some dumb ass reason they are willing to bend down to the capitalist pigs who are squeezing REAL Americans OUT of the middle class. Rather than bringing them down to our level why don't we try to get up to their level.

Don't people; real people, real workers realize what is going on? This country is swinging the wrong way. Those that HAVE want more, and they want to take us back to the good old days. You know the good old days. The days when they could say "take it or leave it" to workers. The days when they could say "there are 100 people that want your job".

Dig in, fight for what you have earned, and support one another.

The other thing I love hearing is that these "long ago negotiated pensions" are now too expensive and cannot be met. Well hey fat cats, I negotiated my mortgage long ago, and yeah at the time it seemed that making that payment for 30 years made sense, but now I am not so sure I can afford it.

What do you say we just let it slide?????????

Daydreams of Montana

The drive into Midnight Canyon Ranch area.

Nice view of the Midnight Canyon.

Looking down the Stillwater River.

Folks say Howdy at the Fishtail General Store.

It is no Costco, but they have what you need, and if they don't have, you ain't gonna get it.

I am not sure I can wait until August and may have to look into some long weekends prior to August to visit the cabin in Montana. Maybe Memorial Day, maybe 4th of July but it has to happen sooner than later. Maybe next weekend, just for the drive.

In the meantime it is amazing how many pictures are out on the internet of our new home, home on the range.

Mayber People Better Start Showing Me More Respect, Know What I'm Sayin'

Man pleads not guilty to stabbing over flatulence

A Connecticut man accused of stabbing a friend to death and injuring three other people at a party because people were making fun of his flatulence has pleaded not guilty.

The Associated Press

Related

NEW BRITAIN, Conn. —

A Connecticut man accused of stabbing a friend to death and injuring three other people at a party because people were making fun of his flatulence has pleaded not guilty.

Marc Higgins of Bristol pleaded not guilty to murder and assault charges in New Britain on Monday.

Police say the 21-year-old Higgins was "very drunk" at a Bristol house party last month and was ridiculed because of flatulence. Police say one woman even slapped him because of it.

Police say at that point he stormed out of the party and returned about 45 minutes later with three knives and started stabbing people indiscriminately.

Matthew Walton died of his wounds. Three others were injured. Higgins told police he was angry and wanted to show that people shouldn't make fun of him.

Turn Me Loose!

I'm tired of this dirty old city.
Entirely too much work and never enough play.
And I'm tired of these dirty old sidewalks.
Think I'll walk off my steady job today.

Turn me loose, set me free, somewhere in the middle of Montana.
And gimme all I got comin' to me,
And keep your retirement and your so called social security.
Big City turn me loose and set me free.

Been working everyday since I was twenty.
Haven't got a thing to show for anything I've done.
There's folks who never work and they've got plenty.
Think it's time some guys like me had some fun.


Well I am not ready to march into the Man's office and demand "all that's comin' to me", but we have laid the groundwork. We bought into a piece of Montana last night. Pretty much smack dab in the middle. Pretty soon we will be able to say "turn me loose Big City and set us free".

THE place to be this summer is just southwest of Billings, just out of Red Lodge, below Laurel, which is a whole 'nother song, but a good one just the same.

Well, well I'm goin' down to Laurel
It's a dirty stinkin' town, yeah
But me I know exactly
What I'm going to find

Little girl I'm goin' to see
She is a fool for lovin' me
But she's in love
And love's a funny state of mind

Fantastic Night

I love time travel. Just love it. I wish it could happen. I am a sucker for ANY movie that uses it in the plot.

Last night I came the closest to time travel that a man can get. For Valentines Day Peggy and I went to see "Sinatra at the Sands" at the Triple Door. Cooler than cool, ice cold!

For starters the Triple Door is cool and it feels like time travel every time I go. Little restaurant booths, great music; it makes me feel like Ricky Ricardo.

I am currently reading the new Mantle biography. With the exception of punching out some noisy neighbors* the entire evening made me feel like the Mick catching Sinatra at the Copa, with the slight exception that I was with my lovely wife, and it was the 7:00 show, not 3:00 in the morning.

*And believe me I was about to do just that. Two couples in a table behind us were yakking up a storm. I finally turned to their table, gave them my best dagger look and said "isn't it great to be able to finally catch up and talk with one another". Fortunately this humbled them enough to take their conversation outside, because I was ready to take them outside!


Aside from that minor transgression of aggression, the night was terrific. Great music, great company and a great trip back in time!

Open Letter to All of You who Make Fun of the Way I Dress

You know who you are. Yeah, you are the people who smirk at me. Point at me and talk behind my back. Some of you have even had the nerve to tell me to my face.

You think I dress like a dork.

You know who you are.

Well, ......I am here to tell you that I am hipper than you can ever dream of being. I have a cultivated look. A well defined look that I have developed over many, many years. This look is precise, this look is intentional and this is the coolest look that exists today for manly men.

I call this look ..........60's Gym Teacher.

That is right, just like Dianne Keaton rewrote woman's fashion after Anne Hall, soon every man in America and perhaps the world will be adopting my look

60's Gym Teacher.

Inspired by the men I looked up to in life. Short hair, cheap khaki pants, WHITE SOCKS and sneakers.

Of course you have to have my figure to really pull it off.

Neko, Alone Time, Routines

Peggy has been gone two weeks to the day. She comes home on Saturday. Neko and I cannot wait. Neko is getting sick of being at work all day. But she has developed a nice routine.

Normally not a morning person, the biggest adjustment for Neko is getting up and ready. She normally likes to lie in bed most mornings and won't really get up until she see the neighbor's husky dog walk by. Another dog invading her territory used to be the signal to get up and start her day. Now she looks at me sadly after I shower and dress and beg to stay. But each day I have roused her, put on her harness and off we go.

I typically treat her to a small walk on the way to work. We stop at a little park off West Marginal way and take a scary morning walk. Two weeks on patrol and I can attest that there are not pedophiles waiting at this park.

We get into work and she immediately races to Sherrill's office for one of many treats during the day. She then settles in on her bed and resumes whatever she was dreaming about last night. At 9:00 I take her over to Georgetown and we pick up MI's mail and walk around the post office. Just this week we have discovered a house that has four chickens. The chickens like Neko and she like the chickens. They actually come to the fence to see her and they both enjoy sniffing each other (assuming chickens can sniff).

And Neko always poos on this walk.

We work from 6:30 to noon and do various things for lunch. Various things usually involve walks.

Around 2:30 everyday Neko reminds me that it is time to head over to the South Park Community Center. Two laps around the field, she chases birds and breaks into sprint every now and then. This is her favorite walk because I allow her to go off-leash.

And Neko always poos on this walk.

Around five the hall lights go out and Neko and I find ourselves alone. This is prime whining time. Neko has figured out that everyone else has left and why the hell should we be here. I am afraid Neko does not possess the aptitude to get ahead in life. She IS a clock watcher.

We then race home, feed the kittens. Neko tells them about her day. I feed her and if I am lucky and do not look at her eyes (and feel like it) I then sneak out for a work out.

Around 10:00 Neko gives me the look, and it is off the bed. She gives me my space as I read, but as soon as the light is out, Munchy makes a bee line for the space between my legs, Neko takes the side and Pushy finds my feet. I then lie there hoping I won't disturb them and drift off to sleep......lather, repeat and wait for Peggy's arrival.

I Run with Scissors, I Run with the Pack

What a morning. Uggghhh. I just spend three hours with a risk loss consultant sent to me via our property casualty insurer. Maddening. He was horrible. How does this man DO anything. EVERYTHING he saw was DANGER. Things we should do better, put away, clean up. I did not know that everything caused fire, mayhem and trouble.

And to top it off, his real title should have been - Head Disciplinarian at the Dead Horse Ranch. OK, OK I get it; lets move on!!!!!!!!!

This guy was a prime example of what happens to you when you do not get (or notice) social feedback. Because he was sent by our insurer (a Company we spend a couple of hundred thousand dollars with and feel lucky to get coverage) one has to be nice to him. Why had I told him to shove it up his ass we would have been deemed "un-insurable". So you sit there and listen for the 100th time about how we should have written procedures for each weld our welder's do, and how EVERY speck of debris needs to be in a sealed garbage can, and these cans should be emptied every 10 minutes and you think to yourself, "when is this asshole going to leave".

AND THEN he says he is leaving BUT he finds FOUR more things to take pictures of and lecture me about on his way to his car. It was like a high school team playing Nebraska in football. The score was already Mr. Smarty Pants 1 million vs. poor bored to tears Walt ZERO.

I can't wait for his report.

Dumb and Dumber Rant

fictional (above) real life ? below

I have readers. And I have been disappointing them of late with little to no content.

In a quick survey of readers, the thing they miss the most is my rants.

So here is my rant of the day. I am busier than a one legged man in an ass-kicking contest and am losing most of my matches. Today I received the topper on top of my already too busy work-load.

A (now) disgruntled employee came in today for a 401 K loan. He is desperate for the dough and he needs it NOW. Forget the fact that ala George Bailey's previous instructions he should know that he has to deal with our 401K administrator for this, and that means filling out THEIR forms, communicating with THEM and waiting for THEM to send him a check. We do not have his money. He is quite pissed at ME, because he needs his money NOW. Honestly, if he had not been so pissed, and so nasty and made me so pissed and so nasty we quite possibly could have fronted the money. But, his mother never told him about bees and honey and vinegar.

Here is the kicker. He joined the 401 K in August and has a balance of around $800 of which the plan will only loan him 50%. My belief is that by the time he gets the loan (net of a $100 loan fee) he probably won't need it. But NOOOOOO, he won't listen to me.

And lastly, I think I played ball one summer with the twins pictured at the bottom, I think they went to Kennedy High School.