Sunday, August 23, 2009

A very odd year and a half

I can't seem to log in to the old Blogger account. Lost my old 'puter plus all my shop power tools, guns, cash, lots of stuff. Getting robbed by both the crooks and the cops really sucks. Interestingly enough the crooks are more honest (and stole less) than the cops.

Lets see if this Google-powered blog works.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Be my Valentine

I've been enjoying a book, "Tales of Old Florida" which was edited by Frank Oppel and Tony Meisel and published in 1987. It's a collection of journal entries and magazine articles written between 1870 and 1909 and is absolutely wonderful! The writing style is by and large Victorian, but by American, mostly Northern (Yankee! ;o) authors.

Listening to the huge bombast and batshit of this campaign year with all the pandering made the below passage rather interesting. It's from "Harper's New Monthly Magazine", vol. XLI - No. 245, 1870 and is titled "Six Weeks in Florida". It's 13 pages of 10-point with repro copper-plate illustrations and with my aged vision, damned hard to transcribe so here is just a snippet (St. Augustine):

"One of the priests who minister there is Father Rousse. A gentle, kind-hearted, humane Frenchman he is, who does his best to take care of the bodies and souls of several hundred negros and white people, the most of whom are of the poorer class. During our frequent peregrinations we had reason to know of this, and also formed a friendly aquaintance with the good father.

When we came one day to bid him good-by, he said: "Ah, you will become a good Catholic sometime, will you not, mon ami?"

"I hope it is not necessary," we replied. "Be sure we shall meet each other in the better world."

"Je l'espere," he answered, sadly, making the sign of the cross.

Certainly the lower, and especially the negro class here, and, in truth, in all other places we visited in the South, needs the care of some spiritual and religious instructor. Before the war it was for the interest of the master that the slave should be under the control of a religious sentiment. It was one means of subjection, of obtaining obediance; but emancipation loosened that cord, so that the negro in his ignorance is falling from grace, and the elective franchise, with all the carpet-baggers in creation, won't save him. At one of the Protestant churches here, and subsequently in Jacksonville, we saw shocking mummeries, which belonged to the fetich (sp from orig) worship of savage Central Africa, and not Christian America. The necessity of taking care of themselves will be a great assistance to these poor people, but it will require many years to bring about that condition when they can provide for their own needs. Meanwhile the present generation will disappear, and a better intelligence will come with those that follow. But it is my conviction that the present political system will not achieve the desired end. The larger number of the negros are in darkest ignorance, and in the matter of voting are used by designing men (remember, this is 1870) to accomplish their bad selfish ends. "

This was written 138 years ago. We've made great strides haven't we? Can you spell "we are so screwed"?

Sunday, December 16, 2007

House cleaning

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Friday, December 14, 2007

Wellborn, Florida real estate for sale

As much as I hate to do it, especially after living and enjoying my 40 acres for over 30 years, I have to sell at least part.

"A plan is just a guess in a party dress."
- Michael Yon

- especially when the plan involved some folks that sounded awful good but turned out just awful. It's not too helpful being a lot older than I ever expected to be and having to move pretty slowly these days courtesy of our old friend Arthur. Arthur Itis.

The 40 acres has 3 spring-fed creeks, a total elevation difference of 70 feet (this is North Florida), and is far enough inland to weather hurricanes pretty well. The creeks offer excellent possibilities for building small lakes and due to 3/4ths of the property being climax hardwood forest, is extraordinarily pretty.

To read the rest of this missive, go to FSBO.

Since I'm in dire straits and will probably loose my power (I cut the power line access route back in '78) and phone next week (had to wait >3 months for a line way back then), I've also put up some "stuff" for sale. The links provide USPS addy.

There's no joy in Mudville these days.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


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I could use some of that! That's my East creek a bunch of years ago. Last surviving photo.

57 some-odd years ago.. Dad's 80 acres of potatoes on share-cropped land froze to the ground. A few miles north of Walnut Hill, Florida in Atmore, Alabama (hospital next to the Alabama electric chair), messy, squall-factory, version 1 exited warm-and-unhappy.

Pretty good life. More often than not, excellent. Finestkind parents, possibly even better grandparents (yup, "accomodated". Kinda. Granny gave me my first whippin'. Yup. I was 4, deliberately did wrong. She switched my young ass pink. I got damn good listening to the word "NO!" Didn't keep me righteous as a teenager (what controls teens? Naw, don't bother. We know. Neuter them, then they might be OK!)

Da shit, it done hit the fan. 30 years here but not for much longer. My 5% equity loan got bought by a very foul company and got called during one of their rip-off crimes (logged, available, >$400,000 in a low income rural sucker source. Unbelievable. 5 more of the cocksuckers are under the gun. Kinda. The "gun" is bought off. All within 12 miles of here.) I've got a more-or-less half a year to come up with what I cannot. The 5% gives the creatures 100% of everything I have worked for since 1968. I think I have the option to sell out entirely. Miserable thought. I'm much older than my 57 years. If you have read my earlier stuff you'd know the best thing would be to shoot me.

* * * * *

Since I've last entered, I've had the privledge of a major case of pneumonia, had my home of 30 years foreclosed on, had the Ninamobile go tits-up, and the other 2 items are too awful to list.

Today is the birthday of Daniel James Bauer. He was born in Alachua General Hospital. He was purple, just like his brother who was born in Columbia General the morning of 29 April, 1978. Kinda miss those kids. 22 July will mark the 21th year since I've seen them. Purple is good. Both were born with hard-ons. Yelled a lot. Needed a lot of rocking. Still have the pre-1860 chair. I miss rugrats.

* * * * *

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Old stuff

I kinda like it. Bunch of years ago. M-14 fit kinda. My country back then.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Can't Get Used To Losing You

I'm earwormed. Last one was "Summertime".

Been a little remiss on posting for a while. The old, broken parts aren't worth considering, the election kinda sucked, and I usually get crabby in November anyway. Mostly due to kinda being out of family. Damn miserable folk went on and died on me. I'd take them out back and shoot them except my back is kinda iffy to do that much digging.

It says right here in the book that one can't pick one's neighbors. That's kinda true. Nina and I made the North property potential buyers quite uncomfortable if we didn't like the cut of their jib. I thought she was unneccessarily cruel with the Jacksonville junkie. She wasn't fond of homos, thought squat of junkies, and that rich kid got flattened by a Sicliana from the Bronx sooo bad I felt sad for him! I would have been much gentler. .22 temple shot.

That bit of dirt was bought by the best of all neighbors. I wish she was still around. Kate and her could ride herd on Jim and self (we'd survive quite happily!). I wish I could find out what happened with Nina. It's been 14 months+ since I've had contact with her. We wrote ~2 letters a month and limited ourselves to one phone call (violated ALL the time) a month. Mail started to bounce, the "we're sorry" came back when calling. November 14th would have been anniversary 20. No, we did not become "former" for any reason on the books. We flipped a coin to see who had to go lie to the judge. She held the coin. On the hellophone. Guess who lost! That's OK, I wore my Jesus boots with 2 flavors of socks. By the way, her nominating me was cruel and unusual punishment. I have absolutely NO capacity for lying. Caught out every damn time. She knew my sister, mother, grandmother, and all those gals filled in ALL the blanks. I'm a total failure as a lier. Tall tales with the boys? Anytime! Fib to the gals? Go dig a hole. Gonna need it. The judge knew I was lying, thankfully he knew me pretty well. Lots of years around. He also knew the true "why". Book law and practical law plus common sense. Saved Nina a pack of change and a paperwork nightmare. Looong story, still interesting to me, wouldn't be for you.

A few weeks later when the court had got done with the deed, we went to the Vault (county record dept.) to sign everything over to each other (pretty cheap, a buck per doc), then when done, we walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, just lovin' the hell out of each other. The boys in the 4th floor lockup (gaol was upstairs) started waving and cheering us! Damn, that was fine!

Of course we had to go shopping. Some guys complain about shopping with spouse. From Day One, I loved going with her. Total Sicilina! Handcuff her and she would be mute! Southern kraut engineer me and exuberent Yankee her, odd? Naw! I joined in! She could get sooo animated in the produce section that I'd join in the waving and suddenly there would be 20 more folk all smiles and just enjoying! Hell yea it's nice to feel good!

I still have a problem understanding why she stayed with me. Many months before she married me I was attacked by a perfectly normal "youth group" in Albuturkey (sp deliberate). Broke both wrists, fractured my skull, broke my neck in 2 places, permanently ruined my left shoulder, and bruised me up a bit. Fucking godamned wetback coke-powered trash is the norm in that federally supported city. That was 20 years ago. Is it better now? It's #1 DUI state. Have you ever seen a Mex drive sober? Albuquerque was the only city I'd ever seen where even the hovels had burglar bars. The evening news reported death by burning due to the entrapment of folk daily. I had been burgled 7 times before I ran afoul of the "youthful ones". Fucking Mexies. Pissed one batch off; after they tore the lock plate off my vehicle, were used to siphoning my tank empty every night. I quit fighting that. They'd already stolen the radio and speakers; not worth much, took the antenna as well. Mexicans are thieves. I just bought $1 of gas at the Circle K each morning. Pissed the "youthful ones" off so they did what one normally expects. Vandalism. The fucking slime finally got up to hot wiring the Land Cruiser on the first day of my first vacation in so many years it doesn't count. Me love Mexicans. I got the thing back, stirpped, delivered by dump truck a week later.

The fucking Mexican is a genetic coward. There are exceptions kinda like there are Einsteins and Hawkings. In the case of Mexis, it is so rare that I can't find a single note of one that has more merit than Jessi Jackson. Mesicans come in groups of no less than three, most often twelve, beyond that, hie thy ass elsewhere. Hyenas. Cowards and thieves.

For five years Nina mostly stood by me. Lots of rough times. If I were her, I'd just shot me and got it over. Ran out the insurance, best "guess" by a damn good doc was to have my shoulder replaced. $88,000 1987 dollars. Unfortunately the insurance was gone, Judge nigger Kennedy (Mobile, Alabama) had done what he always did if a white boy was the defendent ($187,000 plus 4X previous income). Neat. He is the only person I personally know that I am glad he has died. I hope he went to Hell. I still can not go to Alabama. I could not complete one of hizzonnerz requirements, couldn't then, can't now, a broken tailight would cost me the rest of my life in jail, and the IRS bagged EVERYTHING. Got back some of it in 1999 and my friends, when I mentioned "well I'm owed $xxxxxx, ought to file again" went resounding NOOOO! If I did that for a measly few K, the 13 year old file which had just been closed, would be opened in perpetuity. Gahan Wilson had a cartoon 30 or so years ago showing a really battered soldier on a totally ruined landscape with the caption "I think we won". Find me that cartoon.

I still don't know why she stuck by me for so long. Yeah I do. Kinda. 'Despite your lack of all worthwhile qualities, total lack of sense, ability to turn a fortune into a fleet of lawyermobiles, and just being a jackass, I just plain, old-fashioned love you.'

She did.

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