Swamp Musings

Old and tired

2008-02-16T20:50:00.000-05:00

Is it time?

July 22, 1985 was the end of my hopes and dreams. Watching the Delta jet take off with my wife and children at the end of the Albuquerque International Airport was pretty-much the end of dreams. The misery of several years prior won't be written.

I'd sure like Nina back. Best person ever in my life. Has she died?

Lots of wonderful years and lots of dickheads needing trimming! Some just got time in stir, one got to "enjoy" lying up against a dumpster with a low body temp. Nope, I didn't do it.

My time with the Army Rangers, different. Rangers are deliberate. 1972. Don't fuck with Rangers.

20 of them plus my self. Usual miserable C 130 plus 4W to encounter. 354 dead Shining Path directly, chase probably emptied that pocket. 130+ dead counted on the run, not verified. The 354, yup.

Don't fuck with Army Rangers.

Be my Valentine

2008-02-14T15:21:00.001-05:00

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"?

House cleaning

2007-12-16T17:56:00.001-05:00

Wellborn, Florida real estate for sale

2007-12-14T23:21:00.001-05:00

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.

Summertime

2007-07-11T15:01:00.000-05:00

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

57 some-odd years ago..

..my 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.

* * * * *

Old stuff

2007-02-15T18:53:00.000-05:00

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

http://users.cis.net/sammy/mash.htm

Can't Get Used To Losing You

2006-12-05T08:36:00.000-05:00

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.

Life do have some tedious spots

2006-11-03T23:52:00.000-05:00

Been a while again. Shortly after the last post (22 Sept), I was attempting to re-mesh the gears, had a couple of non-profit projects on the list that needed doin' with a old buddy that were more or less scheduled for that time of the year. No suprises on the cracked chest bones, been there before many years ago, just a little slower healing and other than picking up a minor case of the snots from the recently re-schooled neighbor kids, doing pretty good. Had kids? One of the absolute rules is within 3 weeks of school starting, the little booger-eaters will bring home a classy case of the snots. At least one of the classmates will have carefully conserved a treat, promptly shared, then brought home for the grownups to savor for the "week to 10 daze". Repeat at least twice more during the school term. *sigh*

Back to my old friend, he and I play phone machine tag a lot. His job requires him to be out of town for fair lengths of time quite often. Additionally, it wouldn't suprise me if he erased a LOT of the calls that appear on his phone machine due to the nature of his work. Anyway, after a week or so of phone tag, we got to talk. This time it wasn't travel, the sorry bastard had just spent 16 days in ICU. Emergency quad bypass with major complications. Since I still had the tag end of the snots, we were not going to meet until I'd cleared. I've spent many years working in hospitals, surgical suites and ICUs, been vaccinated for stuff I can't recall (was it the cholera or typhus shot that damn-near killed me? ;o) and a puny post surgical patient needs NO exposure. The conversation was on a Tuesday, my snots had cleared by Thursday, and Saturday was to be a fine day weatherwise (semi outside project). Friday went reasonably well, got one project completed to my satisfaction, the clothes I'd hung on the line finally got over being rained on Wednesday, had a half-finished new writer's book to read, and a pot of future chicken and dumplings needing only the dumplings for dinner. Took a 104 degree, 45 minute shower (wonderful for old, broken parts), fresh off-the-line sheets, big bowl of good food, interesting writer. Went to sleep. Woke at around 3 AM. If you laugh, I'm gonna turn into a virus and infect yer computer. ..and your kid's computer. I'm gonna send all your files to the IRS, ICE, FBI, and tell your spouse about that affair.

Chiggers. The crispy and wonderful smelling sheets were full of chiggers. Hundreds. From between my toes to the crown of my head. Armpits, nads, middle of my back, butt crack. Beard, eyebrows, every square inch. The histamine reaction was such that 5' 5", 130# me had a head about the size of Ted the Swimmer. The Great Specked Flightless Bird of Wellborn wanted to become extinct!

I was totally immune to chiggers for 53 years. The little bastaches would chew up many of my friends including my wife. Mike E, Don R, Bill B, got munched every fishing trip. Nina got a load on the roof twice and I was never successful getting her to mow it again! Welp, seems andropause has changed my body chemistry. Bugfood.

Since this wasn't the first time, I knew what to expect and what to do. Gurgling snots, Shiva hands needed to scratch, general misery for a handful of daze. Relief available via the OTC snot pills with their mizzable side effects. The "chigger cures" of fingernail polish and soaking with Everclear really are not too practical when one has a load like that one. However, by Monday I needed some sleep. Gurgling, oozing, said hell with it and took a pair of snot nukes around 10 PM. Yer gonna laugh again. THIS time I'm gonna refer your case to my friend. Actually, if you haven't read what Steve H. has done there, you need to. Good stuff and funny as hell.

Back to the snot nukes. Wonderful things. Effects start around 20 minutes and by 40 minutes I'm as co-ordinated as a fella with a half a jug of JD inside. That part wears off around 3 hours later and the dry eyes, tongue that sticks to lips, slap head and bits of concrete fall out of nose sets in. But I can BREATHE! This time was no different except for the small problem of waking in the wee hours needing to visit the dewatering station. Normal routine. Well, except for being medicated. Zero co-ordination. Sharp edged kitchen cabinet + stumble + forehead = extra sleepytime. It was just shy of dawn when I completed the trip to my loo. It's always so dramatic how minor head wounds look so bad. They are actually the best kind as I got a CSI moment on re-creating exactly how I wound up with the first Class A shiner I've had since Gary and I squared off back in 1964! Nasty little Irish kid. I'd had enough of his "stuff". He and I were physically identical; wire-hard country kids, him Irish, me cur Irish/Scot/Kraut, beat each other without mercy. ..except for the "rules". Our fight was in an isolated area (planned fight, NO adults) that had eyes. Hell no, the adults always knew what kind of shit allus kids were getting into. I think I won. He had 2 mice, I only had one. Neither of us could breathe easy for a week or so as we'd pounded the crap out of each others ribs. Of course we became best friends!

Now a 56 year old with a huge mouse over his right eye and a totally purple socket has to answer for same if seen in public. Since it isn't necessary for me to come out of the swamp very often, not a big problem. Couldn't for a few days anyway as that was my good eye that was swollen shut. Besides, it's hard to flirt with the gals one has known for most of 3 decades when they ask what happened. They all know I've lived solo for the last decade and wouldn't accept "I talked back to the missus". Didn't play at all!

Tomorrow might prove interesting. In 1999, I started rebuilding the second story of the shop as a studio apartment I would have liked to have had back when I was a starving student, far from home. Bits and pieces of fine old times. Rented it very briefly in March this year. Total disaster. I very badly need some income and I've advertized the place in the local mullet wrapper beginning tomorrow. If you are interested in viewing a rather old web site about the joint, it is still available here. The site seems to not render properly with Firefox 2.0.

Time to see if I can recall my login name and password for blogspot. Got some political crap that needs yarfing before next Tuesday. Got 3 very nice stories that need a bit of polish (got too much happy smug in 'em, good people! ;o).

Slowly I turned...

2006-09-22T00:27:00.000-05:00

..step by step, inch by inch, day by day...

Younguns', if ya gotta get bunged up, do it when you're young. Damn crap takes a shit-load longer to kinda heal when it's compounded with all the years of being a dumb youngun and all the other loose, broken, wore-out parts that come with time. Grumble.

Two steps foward, one step back. Two steps foward. FIVE steps back. Stuff needs doin'. Trust me, breaking ahead of the needful time to heal will slow stuff down miserably. Been there before a bag of years ago and I did not forget. It is just that things need doin'. Grumble.

'nuff. Nothing gets better if you bitch about it!

A jaybird will yell and warn other animals if there is a predator around.

There was a jay up on a mesquite with a jackrabbit sleeping in the shade. The jay spotted a coyote stalking the jackrabbit and yelled a warning. The coyote sprang and the jackrabbit ran, scooting past the mesquite and hooking left with the coyote after it.

The jay felt a little guilty about not having spotted the coyote sooner so he shouted to the jackrabbit "you OK? You gonna make it?"

The jackrabbit replied "I'll make it!"

The jackrabbit and the coyote went around the mesquite eight or ten times and it seemed the coyote was gaining at every pass. The jay got seriously worried and shouted " Rabbit how do you know you'r gonna make it?" The jackrabbit called back, "Hell, I've got to make it!"

Wonderful old tale. It was probably old when Arg told Ug (my uber-uncles) told their version after a close encounter of the cave bear variety! Application and post here is mostly due to eluding the fella with the knife on a stick a few more days. The dual March disaster has been somewhat compounded by the difficulty of drawing air for the last couple of months. What has me more than moderately perturbed has been my inability to continue with the possibly best bit of business that has come my way in a bag of years. God knows I'm perched on the financial abyss. Reserve a GE fridge box under the overpass for me. I may need it. Got my own flea-filled blanket and tin cup.

MIA

2006-09-01T22:38:00.000-05:00

.possibly better than DOA although that might be somewhat questionable! It's been quite a while since laughing has been part of the daily enjoyments.

This is a fitting video clip of the last month-plus. I take all responsibility for the damage; hell, I KNOW my limitations. The rules of existance have been in front of me and accepted for the best part of 20 years. The coughing up blood part was troublesome only in a detached way.

Before you ask, the damage was a few broken ribs, a bunch of innards that were mostly like a critter shot with a hollow-point, and meself asking self "self. why the fuck didn't you leave a light on?". Steel fence stake. Buggy full of boxes for the shop. Dark of the moon. Swamp. You don't know dark. I should have. Several daze drooling blood with a cough causing pain so severe that merciful blackout occurred. Many weeks fearing the sneeze and planting both hands on the chest.

-------------------------

'nuff of that. I'm up to 20% function on an average of every 3rd day. By the end of October the phys therapy ought to be working. Old farts heal slowly. Funny thing is, I still think I'm 14! Turning on the 'Way-back' machine, Nina decreed I was 12 back in '87! We had good friend company that Thanksgiving. My photos melted years ago. Photos gone and they are both dead. 2 deaths of friends since my present down time. Nope. I won't go to "viewing" or burial anymore. Buried too many.

--------------------------

To have and to hold
For better or worse
In sickness or health
For richer or poorer
Forsaking all others.

---------------------------

Too bad there is nothing left. I don't count.

best photo ever

2006-07-10T13:32:00.000-05:00

..from KeesKennis.

It's been a rough month or so. Somewhat rocky for me since March 13th (financial), much worse for friends and acquaintances. A few weeks back one of my good friends lost a mid-20's unmarried employee that was mostly worth a damn. Seems he got a basketful of greenbacks ahead and bought himself one of the new crotch rockets. Lasted 20 whole minutes. Flat, right-hand curve. Air being parted rather rapidly. Tree wasn't part of the desired path. Boxed and buried. Not long after, a local couple did or did not (not too sure) loan their licensed teen son the car. Made it about 3-4 miles. Curve. Speeding. Tree. Boxed and buried. Then Rob went and took the dirt nap. Sumbich shouldn't oughta done that. Oughta been taken out and shot. I'd only been reading him for three years or so and will miss his presence as I have my pre-internet Robert Rourk and Lewis Grizzard. No, not the same. Just the same but different. In some ways Rob was better. Times, they change. "Society", it changes faster as the years accumulate. Fred Reed has a interesting column this week.

Well, I got to re-visit my new tick-spit allergy. A couple or thereabout weeks ago, woke up in the wee hours unable to breathe, nothing new, just thought I had the local Stephen King annual population under control. Forgot I'd gone visiting and didn't hose myself off properly after returning to the swamp. Rotated from the horizontal to the semi-vertical, headed to the lower right-hand drawer in the kitchen where the anti-snot pills are kept, then gulped a pair of those hideous side effect nightmares. Drowning in my own snot. As expected/feared/etc., the snot nausea required replacement before the effective time. Double dose. Actually a quad dose in my case and if you are ever unfortunate enough to drown without the mercy of cement boots (~3 minutes or so), you KNOW how much you want to breathe! ANYTHING! Worked. AIR! Lovely, blessed air. Of course one eye was randomly wandering around in it's socket (normal) and the other wouldn't even pretend to focus (also normal). Kinda shot down the round toit list as it stood for the day. Arms worked mostly, legs attached, might as well move a bunch of this crap (valued equipment, boxes of archived documentation, a.k.a., "crap") from point A to point B. Miscalculated a bit. Seems navigation through the concrete corridors requires visual queues, missed a turn, kinda. Wound up with my left thumb embedded in a material with very little resilience. Actually it wasn't embedded, just looked that way when I could get an eye to look at it in such a way the image could be processed. It was somewhat shorter. Nina, my beloved former (yes, not all dissolutions of marriages are hostile) wife would have called that a "Michael". Universal term for injuries incurred due to being "blessed" by the Y chromosome! At least it's a virgin broken part. I'd feel silly if I'd broken that piece before.

If You Aren't Completely Appalled You Haven't Been Paying Attention

2006-06-20T13:52:00.000-05:00

Who wrote that?

WELCOME TO THE CITY OF LIVE OAK’S WEB SITE

Our City Officials and staff would consider it a pleasure and honor to serve you as you visit or stay in our City.

Live Oak is proud to provide the many services necessary for a comfortable and safe way of life. These services include natural gas, sewer, water and garbage pick up. We are also proud of our full time, well-trained fire department and accredited police force.

An excellent school system, hospital (don't ask) and many healthcare providers(again, don't ask. There ARE condoms in the goldfish bowl however.) are here to minister to the needs of those of all ages. Two recreational facilities provide year round programs and activities for both adults and youngsters (crack available but you'll need to rob a local convience store or hock som dat stuf you burgled).

Live Oak is a growing community of some 6,500 citizens (a couple of published month's worth).

Four large metropolitan areas are located within a short driving distance. (Jacksonville and Tallahassee at ~100 miles, Valdosta and Gaineville at ~60 miles, none which have the "charisma" of Indianapolis [which has none at all! Welll, Gainesville has UF lefty chicks. Bezerkely souf'! Think itching and pennicillin..] One can enjoy our small town setting, yet participate in the events and activities of larger cities.

The staff of City Hall will be pleased to assist you with information relative to residential and business areas, street locations and building/zoning regulations or any other matter of interest. ( all county "services" are available" for a price. yeah. right. Oh sweet jebus.. )

We would be honored to have you visit and relocate in Live Oak. You will find the citizens of our community are the most friendly, kind and caring people anywhere. Give us a look! ( then RUN! ..unless you've plenty of the mordita.)

Sincerely,

Garth R. “Sonny” Nobles, Jr.

Mayor

As of the Census of 2000, there were ~3,500 illegal aliens in the county with the seat being Live Oak according to the US Census crew. Can't (won't) get into Tijuana Norte, they have their own gummit. More? Less? There is a Hell of a lot more now and the sorry bastards that canned the US citizens in favor of hiring wetbacks are still in very lucrative businesses. Hell yeah I know them. I bark about them, I have to learn how to breath dirt. That, and I've friends that are hanging on by teeth and toenails to support their families. Sux so bad. The Mexi's walk the streets in packs. You won't find a Mex male without a minimum of 2 additional (very rare), normally thrice and more often 20 or more. My gentlemanly interviews with 3 major illegal alien employers over the last 2 years records that less than one of 200 folk from South of the border have valid green cards.

Of course I've not presented the DCF stuff. I'm not "allowed". Unfortunately most black folk are 4th gen welfare junkies and now the latinas are doing a fine job of same. Baby bumps are "automatic citizens". Yeah. Right. The EBT card has ended the lines at the welfare office (and reduced the 23 black gals that ignored all of them. Amusing. Undoubtably "advanced" to more lucrative gubmint "positions") except for the latina gals with bumps. That'll come later.

global cooling

2006-06-18T21:55:00.000-05:00

(written 16 June, 2006)

It's the middle of June in Florida. Dead calm, full sun, lots of wet being boiled outa the woodlands today. That sucking sound was your pits when you raised yer arms! Aren't you glad you use Dial? Don't you wish everyone did? sheesh.

* * *
..nuff of that outside stuff, I'm too old to play in that soup! There's been a job I've put off for a few years. Something like 6 or 7. I've got this 22 cubic foot Sears Coldspot chest freezer, circa 1963 (complete with original manual!) that got it's last defrosting 7 or 8 (9?) years ago. Yes Virginia, there ARE glaciers in Florida. Seemed like a plan for a sweaty afternoon, should be able to find a few "treasures". Actually I'd unplugged the beast a few days ago hoping I could get the glacier to calve so the total chore wouldn't require me to find long term alternate storage for the eatable contents. All of this brought back high school memories of one of my part-time & weekend jobs at a appliance shop and having to replace the evaporators on these things. Although this one is porcelain over steel, most were just plain aluminum and when the gals went to defrost them, they'd bring out the ice picks and butcher knives. Yup, they'd pierce the evaporator coils and the only fix back then was to replace the entire liner. Insulated with fiberglass. Wet fiberglass. Guess who always got the job of crawing into those things and stripping all that muck out? Summertime in Mobile Alabama, no air conditioning in the shop, fiberglass in every pore of my sweaty body.

Should have brought in the wheelbarrow to haul the iceburgs from the utility room to the bathtub. By the time they were all hauled, the tub was 3/4ths filled and my hands were no longer functional. However, all that ice coupled with a floor fan made one fine A/C! Sorting through the contents of the freezer was much like going through the middens of an ancient civilization; could have used a research lab's help carbon-dating some of the contents though. The compost pile will be a while digesting the load it took on yesterday!

* * * * * *

Did the same with the 20 cubic foot fridge/freezer yesterday. 7 months rather than 7 years. Worse. Had to clean out the wetvac with Clorox after I finished. Entirely new forms of life had evolved under the drawers on the bottom and the freezer contents, wellll...

The poor washer got a workout. Lots of nasty towels. Had to put another jug of bleach on the shopping list. At least the deed is dood for a while.

* * * * * *

Isn't she sweet?! The New Nobility. She's kinda like that wonderful Dollar Bill Jefferson what keeps bribe money in his freezer. The whole farging bunch in DC seems to think a meticulously acquired search warrant was "unconstitutional", then went on to pass a "no-knock" for us peons. Don't know about you but I have, even at my advanced age and degree of crippledness, rather awesome reflexes when presented with a threat. I sleep like a rock. Used to bother my second ex-wife so much she borrowed the BP measuring stuff and checked me out. 100/60 and 38. She was just handling my arm. One of the long ones. However, a sound she couldn't detect would have me out of the bed, armed and out the door before she could get past "wha?". Back then we had a small goat herd, a hatful of rabbits, a few dozen chickens, and local wildlife that thought they were being raised for THEIR dinner table!

'mo stuff, unfortunately I'm not sure about the statute of limitations. Best shut up!

* * * * * *

It's the end of a long and decent day. Amongst other "stuff" I had the drying rack out with another dozen books that hopefully can be rescued. I'm really hoping that the 1899 New England etiquette book and the autographed (Mark Twain) Joan of Arc will not wind up dust. Got a whole bunch more that I've enjoyed far more than any worth they would have had even prior to their present deplorable condition. Anyway, the one below was a hoot. It's still too delicate to re-read and since it's in pieces, I decided to scan in a couple of images.

I AM saving the scans at 300 dpi just in case the old paper crumbles. The Twain is in even sorrier shape than the 1899 and there are so many more that need someone what knows what they are doin' to preserve.

I hate it when a good book goes bad.

* * * * * *

I forgot to mention that the Hitler book is copyright 1943. First issue in 1941. The last chapter before the conclusion is titled "Insanity Fair". His shrink had a lot to say in the 322 pages. Hopefully I can repair the book enough to be handled again.

21 years and one month

2006-06-18T16:09:00.000-05:00

I sure miss you my best friend. You probably know I haven't seen your grandkids since 2 months after your death. Odd, isn't it? So many similarities..

By the way, today would have been the 30th anniversity of the mother of your grandkids and self. Shit happens. Especially in Alabama "Family" Court. Wimmin and lawyers and whitey hating nigger judges down souf..

- - - - - -

Too many wonderful memories. ..not gonna start.

We were waiting out a t'storm before re-launching Ug Lee to continue shrimping on Weeks Bay. Good Lord did it come down in buckets!

gaaaah!

2006-06-16T05:45:00.000-05:00

I'll get around to That ^ in a moment or so..

Monday eve was really awful nice. Came back in with happy mud-covered, wrinkled toes and smelling more than likely just like the gleeful wet hound what thinks digging holes in the rain is a hell of a lot of fun! Turned on the tooob, all disaster, all the time. Had this chick weenie all decked out in storm gear a New England fisherman would wear if'n he was in a nor'easter with 30 foot waves. The wind was hell, all of maybe 10 mph with gusts up to 15 and it HAD rained a bit in the last half hour. Hang on to that nor'easter helmet gal, doan wanna get the "doo" damp... sheesh. The hysterical weathercritter was pronouncing all the mandatory evacs, huge rainfall amounts, and near hurricane force winds with humungous gusts and spin-off tornados 'sposed to wrack my QTH up by dawn. Funny that the NOAA site didn't mention any of that. yawn. Toob off. Listening to the beautiful rain on the tin cap of the atrium and smelling that good wet air was all the amusement needed whilst fixing myself the anti-social supper. Olive oil with lots of fresh garlic plus a diced banana pepper, a 'mater, various herbs from the rack, some more garlic, some diced-up mystery meat in the fridge that wasn't green, some more garlic, and a pot of boiled up angel hair. Mmmmmm! Ate it lying in the rack just like a sea otter with an abalone with the steady rain making my ears happy, the good air doing the same with the nose, and re-reading, best I can recall, a collection of Arthur Machen short stories for the second time in 33 years (I kinda hang on to books).

The light was flickering pretty often which is perfectly normal when anything other than a light fog happens. I'd already rigged for the TS stuff but thought maybe since most of my dishes were in the dishwasher that hadn't been run in four days, oughta get up and run a load. Who knows, a big wet limb might fall on the power line leading down into the swamp and I'd have to do them by hand. With creek water. In the creek. Being at the end of a loong line and not being what you call a "high priority user", I'm low on the FPL food chain. *sigh* Got my all-kinds-of-contented butt into the upright and operating position, went into the kitchen, then felt around for the pull-chain on the ceiling fan/light. GAAAAH!

The taloned, 6-fingered hand of the infant Antichrist previously hanging on the chain latched on to my inner elbow and scrabbled (leaving a grevious trail of bloody wounds) directly into my armpit. Scooped that demonic creature out and flung it. Light on, rotated 60 degrees clockwise, grabbed the Steve H. MK II roach cannon, rotated into target acquisition and NAILED the bastich! Hip-shot. 12 feet (the SH MK II was set on full choke).

Roaches have a valued place in the eco-system. They eat just about everything. The buzzards of the forest floor. I'm not too happy sharing my sleeping and eating space with them for some very obvious reasons (see above) however they are not the penultimate low-lifes. Mark Twain thought it was Frenchmen. I'm pretty sure it's divorce lawyers. Hey Steve H., you old legal thing, got a design for them? ;o)

* * * * * *

TS AlbertiepooGore was a sweetie. Slow, gentle rain, 6" of it with a bit 'o fun when the center went over the next afternoon. Nice hiking weather if one stayed out of the climax woods. Huge old trees get pruned by wind and with the spring growth plus being rather damp, limbs have a tendency of falling off. Climax woods get pruned by wet growth, not wetbacks, gringos get pruned by wetbacks. *sigh*

* * * * * *
Interesting Quicktime clip to watch with your morning cup of joe. Reminds me of some fever dreams I've had in the past.

Hey ya'll, watch this!

If you missed Lilek's Screedblog a couple of days ago, it's good stuff!

* * * * * *

Time to go play outside for the couple or 3 hours before Florida turns into the daily sauna.

mmmmm..

2006-06-12T18:29:00.000-05:00

Rain! I hope. Looks like AlbertoGore is gonna come aboard about 50 miles SW of here as a gonorheal number 1 'cane (lots of pissin' and moanin"! ;o) Got the yardstuff, shopstuff, and the buggystuff reasonably secured, hauled out a few bags of trash hoping it'll get blown away except tinycanes usually don't pack near the punch of some our summer t'storms. At least if AlbertoGore comes through with lots of water it'll wash out all the skeeter holes and give us a reprieve from the blasted biters for a while.

* * * * * *

Just got back in, going out again. Rain! Even the pooch is happy! Had to come in to remove all the walking freckles. BTW, after a serious rain, if you're cursed with fire ants, every damn frond, leaf, anything above water is covered with those children of motherless whores. Oh, all those woodland roaches move in as well. Keep the Steve H. roach cannon handy, you'll need it.

I'm going back outside and play in the rain, glorious rain!

ozone

2006-06-10T20:41:00.000-05:00

My goodness it got a bit uncomfortable this afternoon. Poor Rima was laying out on the front door landing and it appeared her tongue had adhered to the concrete. Brought a tub of water out and dampened the area and accidently spilled a quart or so on her noggin. Quite acceptable. MORE! Hose time for both of us. Summertime in Florida. Sucks royally.

Ozone. The local atmosphere has been heavily ozonated. No hydrocarbons or NOx in this location, just major-league insolation manufacturing O3. Tough if you've lung probs. Hopefully Alfredo or Alfonso or whatever will show up and give this part of Mother Earth a decent bath soon. Good old tropical storms are the BEST at removing skeeters as well and there's been a passle this Spring. Hoses out the breeding holes.

I want to go sit in this.

'bout a hundered yards from where my sorry old butt is planted right now. Unfortunately, all the snow has melted.

Whilst poking thru the very few photos left after the discomfort in '98, this one is more than pretty good. I miss them.

Wonder how they are doing these days. July 22 will be 21 years since I've last seen them. The gleeful kid turns 24 July 11.

I found out what the "all disco" was. Me rotating off the bed and making the teevee to go to Channel 5. UF PBS Gainesville, Florida. They are re-running it.

Get Down Tonight: The Disco Explosion New performances and archival footage feature the Bee Gees, Donna Summer, Leo Sayer, A Taste of Honey, Wild Cherry, Martha Wash; hosted by KC and the Sunshine Band.

teevee stations and FM radido stations simulcast. Last night was dead quiet. Most nights will be same. Wild Cherry was rugged way back, BeeGees, well, I DID kinda enjoy disco! Shoot me!

Truthfully, I enjoyed Flashdance and Dirty Dancing a whole bunch more. Long time before the dorsally damp fucked my body up for keeps.

Jennifer Grey is probably a granny of years now but if she wants to take a spin around the dance floor, I've got a few jars of the doc's pills in the freezer. The joints start working after 20 minutes, co-ordination begins to fail at 50 minutes, and for the next couple of daze, it seems there is a finger in my nose.

A couple of dances with that gal would be worth having my finger extracted from the snot locker! Wonderful movie. Yeah, I used to love to dance. And yes, she has the one thing I love most. Many, many times, smiles of happiness! OK, that was a movie. My guess is her smile was really happy.

That's what is so good about kids. We were all kids once and some of us remember the "OH!" when we'd find out something new that needed investigating!

I had a wonderful youngunhood.

96 degrees

2006-06-10T15:06:00.000-05:00

Summer has finally arrived. Observing the track of the first tropical depression (probably a dynamic link), it will cross directly over my abode Monday night. G-d knows the rain will be appreciated. The forest land of what I live in the middle of is crispy dry. I've not been able to saw up the last oak that fell on the roof and it'll need to be removed before something serious blows up from the West coast of Africa this season. Got parts done before ol' arther bit me a new one.

I posted the below image quite a while back. Kinda cool.

For some reason an awful lot of people like to live on coastal regions. Something about our plasma being pretty close to the same salinity? ;o) Well, guess what critters, Mama Nature likes to wash her fringes off pretty often. I captured the below shot while my favorite radar map was downloading.

Just look at the coastal plains. I'm native. So are my folks back many generations. It may take 20 or more years before Mama N. decides she needs to wash off some more gunk but you can betcha she's gonna wash her socks. If you live within 50 or so miles of the Gulf or Atlantic, bath time is coming.

punishment

2006-06-08T09:35:00.000-05:00

Must need it!

That photo was taken through a screen a couple of days ago. ~10 feet from where I sit when exercizing the fingers. Summertime in Florida. She is waiting for me to come outside and play before it gets too hot. Gonna be 95 before this day ends.

Woke up at my usual 4:30 AM with the radidio set on a different station than usual. Disco. All disco, all the time. Ke-rist! Most of 30 years peeled back and before cognizance occurred, found myself headed toward the cedar chest. There are silk shirts and ivory pants in there... Now they are playing mashups of disco, Doors, rap, and Blondie. Amazingly good. Rima has a wrinkled brow. Old crippled-up greybeards are not supposed to dance! I think it might be the cane that is used to keep the carcass mostly vertical that is the off-putting part..

Pages and pages of links and comments. For one reason or ten others, just can't seem to generate enough interest to post them. They'll probably wind up burned to a disk next time I do a bit of 'puter housecleaning. However, after reading Kim du Toit this morning, I got to recollecting about a tech from a company I did a bit of work for most of a quarter-century plus ago that came down (800 mile trip) just to show off and shoot his brand new "sporterized" M-16 carbine. Cool. It had been a number of years since I'd had the "opportunity" to use one of those squirrel guns and I set up the swamp range with flood lights so he could plink at paper targets into that night. After establishing he was much sorrier than my 95 pound wifey, he wanted to have a "hard target" to kill. Yes, he was properly trained on handling firearms, no hazard or re-training would have been mandatory. Enthusiasm is always a plus. Am I a hard case? You betcha. Not fond of accidents, been there and continue to suck air. I set up a collection of 40 pound cement blocks in front of the berm for him to plink at. Kinda fun watching him improve while burning his way through those boxes of 5.56. Little puffs of dust from the blocks. He was all kinds of happy. The effect was more or less kinda the same as my Ruger 10-22 with the CCI hot ammo available back then. After he'd gleefully gone through a few boxes, I went into the house and withdrew 2 rounds for the 98, picked up same and checked it for the usual reasons, went out and offered him same. And yes, I HAD removed the bayonet. And yes, the steel buttplate is very 1943. He declined first shot. The concrete block with 50 or so .223 pock marks vanished with one round of the rather old Mauser. The .223 went back into the trunk of his Saab. If something needs shootin', it needs shootin' properly.

If I were to be called into combat, my preference would be to have 10 rounds of major-league sleepy-pills rather than 1,000 rounds of spray and pray.

..and this is why!

I rest my case.

good stuff!

2006-06-02T16:05:00.000-05:00

Finally got around to go do some grocery shopping Wednesday. Last medium/end-of-season pass was April 21. Transition season. There's a method, not madness to my purchases of eatable organics. Comes from looong experience. Has a lot to do with living down in the swamp for many decades at the very end of a long power line. In the Fall, the freezer will get a fair poundage of gobbets of dead animal flesh. Good stuff. Shootin' /butchering season. Greenhouse veges come January and cool weather home-grown greens plus canned goods left over from last year. There's a circle coming up.

Come June, the freezer should be down to a one month supply of the bleeding pieces of murdered animals. Purchases reflect that with a large upswing in the acquisition of canned stuff. FYI, commercially canned goods are far superior to naught, most keep w/o starting to taste like mud or metal for about a year.

Fresh meat butchered in season, fresh veges harvested in season with the disparity tended by the various storage methods. Turns out that pretty much fits with the storm/reliable electricity season. If you have enough dinero to afford a well maintained MG set (maintainance #1, miserable things) and unsullied fuel for same, you won't end up donating that kilobuck freezer load to the local charity after the roads are clear enough for them to send a van to haul it off.

However there is a minor problem with this circle. What's left in the freezer this time of the year is usually the "really good deals" that the dawg(s) will probably get and the canned goods that homeless shelters would reject. I've always been curious about the annual canned goods pickup the USPS does this time of the year. Pantry cleaning time for those 2 cases of no-name canned green beans?!

Been eating good for the last couple of days. Steaks au poivre with twice baked red skinned taters and fresh asparagus Wednesday night, Steak and eggs with fresh homemade whole wheat bread for b'fast. A lamb chop pan fried in olive oil that had much garlic and fresh portobello mushrooms sauteed' in it with fresh carrots (good ones for a change. Didn't taste like turnips soaked in diesel oil) and peas. Belch! Don't quite know what's on the menu tonight but it'll probably be chicken a la king as I've a bag of brutally slaughtered and dismembered bird thighs defrosting and the leftovers will make a good base for a couple of pot pies.

Q: What do you call 6,000 disarmed National Guardsmen with no power of arrest or detention at the Mexican border?

A: Greeters

Might as well issue them clipboards. "Hernandez, party of 753?" "Si! We will need 750 highchairs senor."

...from a skit by a Honduran-born Mexican who lives in East LA heard last Friday on the radio.

* * * * * *

Emilio T. Gonzalez is head of the US Citizenship and Immigration Services.

We have as Attorney General, Alberto R. Gonzales.

Seems we also have Vicente Fox for President.

* * * * * *
Maxed Out Mama's "Guest Workers" Are Destroying The US post is probably one of the most insightful essays I've read on immigration in quite a while.

John Derbyshire has a interesting take with Path to What?

And good ol' Uncle Al takes another chomp with What remains of physical reality after empirical reality is deleted?

Thomas Sowell speaketh. Good stuffeth.
The Senate's 'Tough' Immigration Bill

Does William K. Shearer really need to ask?
In The Battle Against Illegal Immigration, Whose Side is The Government Really On?

Sen. Jim DeMint isn't trying to be funny. Letterman rarely is.
Top 10 Reasons to Oppose Amnesty Bill

".. doing jobs Americans won't do.." Actually it should read "doing jobs the multi-gen welfare class won't do". Generations served so well by the gummit "outcome based" (huh?) school system and the "we feel so sorry for you cause you are sooo second-class" entitlement programs have been raised with a retarded work ethic. It's called living down to expectations and after so long, it's doubtful it could be turned around in less time than it took to generate. Maxed Out Mama's post linked above kinda gets it. Practically, what will happen will be the enfranchisement of tens of millions of new voters who will discover they can vote themselves unearned wonderfulness from the producers' larder.

Viva la revolución El Jefe Jorge Bush.

gettin' damp

2006-05-27T19:54:00.000-05:00

No, hasn't rained enough to pay attention to in way too long. It's just turning back into the usual Southern summer. Got up at my usual oh dark thirty planning on making a serious grocery run into the burg so I GI'ed the kitchen (normal Saturday routine anyway) and found out those marvelous "improvements" I made to the grease trap, well, they were not working as advertized. **sigh.** Mops and glop removal aren't listed on my union contract. Oughta go on strike. Maybe management will replace my sorry ass with a Mexican!

About the gettin' damp part, for that I have to crank up the wayback machine. 40+ years ago in South Alabama where I was raised, when school ended we kids would do our best to practice fishing, trying to drown each other, and engage in becoming either Willie Mays in the sandlot or Tarzans and Janes in the swamps. That is until the larger folk decided help was needed doing little jobs like weeding sweet tater fields about the size of Australia come July. Couldn't really tell the difference in the color of the little black ones or the little white ones! Since my primary gene stock was seriously Northern European, I only turned a deep walnut. Substantially darker than Colin Powell. ..and a whole bunch darker than her! ( ;o)

To this day I'm not a big fan of sweet taters. Can't imagine why..

* * * * * *

4:15 PM. Ain't done yet. The Rimadon Shitferbrainicus has gone into the heat-stunned mode. The plumbing failure was a tiny bit more troublesome than dreaded. Seems there has been a backup for quite a while longer than the last post indicated. Should be done in an hour or so. I've still got a few cups of bleach left, gonna need them when this bit of nasty is finished and I take a bath. Of course I'll be blonde from my toes to the top (won't need to check with my hairdresser!) Since I'm only dealing with 20 gallons of aged grey water and grease (somewhat dispersed, exit point isn't in a room I visit often), it won't be nearly as bad as my (very) few assistance jobs fixing septic systems. If this one fails, there are a lot of leaves in the woods. Been there, done that.

More hosing, more wet-vac. Thankfully it's just the grey and my fault grease overload. Still smells.

* * * * * *

Deed is done. It'll need a good PineSol mopping and that'll wait jus' fine. The kitchen floor needs it as well, kinda sticks to the feet, I'll go get a jug of the stuff and do them at the same time. Eventually. BTW, it's been years since a female/girl-type person was in the house. The last one decided that, well, that relevation will keep! To defer odd thoughts, read (pronounced "red") trade journals become minor piles, working files occupy most all horizontal surfaces, and bits and pieces of various devices are to be found in places mostly difficult for dawgs to get at.

This place was a lot nicer when the female/girl/wimmin-type person was around. Wonderful paradox and a bunch smarter.

I'm used-up. Need air. There's $20 worth of juice in the buggy.

* * * * * *

Reubin James? Wonder if Kenny ever met someone like him. Had the radio on. Needs a link to a earlier post.

Just in case you might be curious, I'm back. Went out for a co-cola and a pouch of Bugler, stopped at 2 yard sales that had interesting folk, drove the buggy along the road where my extraordanarily good friend used to live before he joined his wife for the first time in years. USMC, ret. Gunnery Sergeant. 6' 6", more than likely Hell during his last time before retiring in 1964 training recruits at Parris Island. 5' 4" designer-of-tools with many years in San Francisco and a rather large gunney being best buds? Worked wonderfully! 1987-2003. His heart just finally quit. We killed an awful lot of fish, solved most of the world's problems, potted a bunch of squirrels, taught each other all kinds of things. Politics and religion were kinda allowed. Him being 5th gen Democrat, I convinced him not to vote for Clinton the first pass. He got all born again after his first heart attack and attempted to convert me. I may never be ready to pay a preacher meself. I'm still Christian, go read back. That was OK, kinda, by him. I wasn't a recruit! Wonderful fella married to a tough gal (who kicked my ass all the time! ;) with nearly a half-dozen kids that are between kinda mostly good to awesome.

20 miles of old country roads not traveled by me in years. North Florida is rolling real estate, in places very like the Pennsylvania foothills. As green as the tropic islands this time of the year. So beautiful it is hard to wander through alone.

* * * * * *
"Old man look at my life,
I'm a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I'm a lot like you were.

Old man look at my life,
Twenty four
and there's so much more
Live alone in a paradise
That makes me think of two.

Love lost, such a cost,
Give me things
that don't get lost.
Like a coin that won't get tossed
Rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life
I'm a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that's true.

Lullabies, look in your eyes,
Run around the same old town.
Doesn't mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.

I've been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I'm all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life
I'm a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that's true.

Old man look at my life,
I'm a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I'm a lot like you were."

That was written and sung most of three decades ago. Mr. Young was a major-league pharm way back then. Still is. No matter. Damn good song. I was just beyond 21, finally found out what happened after years of batshit what happened between my folks. Mr. Young is a major suck these daze, matters not at all. I still think this is a fine song.

Been singing it for years. Might have some significance if I had kids. At least that one doesn't make me cry like some of Emmy Lou Harris's do!

Almost dark, one final hose-it-out job for the evening with the tools. The pre-written grit teeth stuff, damn. I'm so disgusted with the US gub, might be worse than the Mex gub, judging from what appears in the LSM, ought to be embracing the stuff in Venezuela. Nah. Folk of my ilk and history with kids and grandkids are not particularly pleased these days.

Land mines are kinda spiffy. Kinda like signs that read "This drive is private. Mined" Oooold tag. "This drive is private mind".

I need to go out for another night hike with the disturbed Rimadon. There is still a bunch of arab juice in the buggy, haven't been to the local whoreatorium since the last 3 died of AIDS, the barkeep back then lost his bo to the same (116 white ones dead in this rural Southern county in 1 year, 5 times that many black and covered for the usual reasons). Nah. Plague.

Night hikes are finestkind. Find socks, add boots. Tee shirt and shorts work. Rimadon is cool about leading the blind one.

silly season..

2006-05-20T02:53:00.000-05:00

..this soon? I always thought we had to wait until July or so.

The Senate voted yesterday to allow illegal aliens to collect Social Security benefits based on past illegal employment -- even if the job was obtained through forged or stolen documents.
"There was a felony they were committing, and now they can't be prosecuted. [snip]

Reid calls language proposal racist

I jus' LOVE lawyers. Especially when they are used for gator-feed.
Mexico Threatens U.S. With Border Crisis Lawsuit

Read the entire posting.
E-mail reproduces letter from retired U.S. Border Patrol agent to Senator Bill Frist.

This is old, still interesting.
(Illegal) Immigrants win Arizona ranch

Enjoying your high-priced gasoline and electricity? You hired these bastards (so did I).
House Votes to Keep Offshore Drilling Ban

* * * * * *

Ya know, I actually feel sorry for all those zone 3 (the majority) "residents" of New Orleans tomorrow. Obviously Nagin will win. Chocolate City, a.k.a., another success story of the "Great Society", will vote that useless asshair-hanging bit of shit back in. Can't say anything about his competition other than my memories of his totally corrupt father. His sister is, well, you already know.. Keep on with the sending the umpty-billions Bush the Braindead. If you had an ounce of grey matter, you'd KNOW not one of those folk are gonna vote anywhere near what you want and the gigabucks of OUR money will go (has gone) directly down the tube.

* * * * * *

Oh NO. Hard to believe. The local Florida CC is now wetback heaven. Need a decent high-paying job? Get south and run the (non-existant) border to get your "qualifications". Didn't believe it. Checked it out. BTW, the CC is run by the Dems like most "institutes of ______ learning".

I quit.

* * * * * *

For the last week or so I've been considering resurrecting a anecdotal story I wrote not long after Algore didn't become president. It joined many others that were kinda nice with that particular one having some warm and cuddly in a swampy kinda way, a couple of smiles, and a true awshit. Since it actually had no purpose, it got stowed. It also had the miserable problem of my inevitable tendency of sliding off the topic. Now it has an ending with a moral. Didn't get around to it today. Yesterday evening a good friend came over for a while for a little use of the shop, then some babble and beer. He's facing a old, old problem, one I've been aware of for several years. It'll be coming to another head shortly (nope, no pussy involved, if there were, I'd not be involved. Check MY sterling past! ;o) Actually if you can find them, I've got a couple of ex-wives that will vouch as to my excellent character. Nope, the key words have nothing to do with me burying them in the swamp or feeding them to the gators!

The problem he's facing is one that has baffled me. One would think with my close to 5 decades of rather large involvement in tending kids in trouble I'd at least have a glimmer. Been pulling a blank. Now I'm just an old practical, pragmatic engineer these days. I could pull up a 5,000+ word monograph on this subject right now except I don't want to read it again.

In 2004 I went up to the polling place to cast my vote. If you read my post of that day, I was voter 666! Anyway, I got a hi Michael!, turned around and saw a shirt. The shirt was occupied by the former belly-bump, then unstoppable 4 year old babblecritter (and excellent kiddo), and now large, economy voter! One of quite a few that occasionally come and suprise me with visits. I used to be the ultimate baby-sitter. Outside, the gals would keep them from going astray. Inside, there was the drafting table with plenty of paper and pencil crayons. Got lots of artwork!

I'm facing a typing problem again. Spent too many years supporting kids in foster care, got a real big problem with folk that should have been sterilized if not at birth, well before ... OK. You get the drift. 'nuff of that for now.

* * * * * *

..about 2 AM. I'm back. This is probably one of the last decent nights left before Florida's Summer Hell sets in and I went for a walk with the Rimadon. She's not her mother, granny, or grandma, they are all dead. They were mostly trained. Doesn't matter. She's a class hiker. Better than many and nice to have scouting the trail. It bothers me quite a bit that she is a freemartin.

I awoke at my usual 4:30 AM yesterday with the problem still circulating. Since all I do is prettymuch set to some sort of schedule with Saturday close to inviolable as "laundry, rake out kitchen, (sometimes that can be ugly), and change bedding (burn or wash? walking freckles are a way of life)", old knucklehead self isn't moved easily. I have one job other than the roundtoit list, due at the end of May. Roughly 2 days work left on it. Elected today (yesterday) to do the Saturday stuff. The grey water drain backed up. Been doing a fine job for 26 years. Took a couple of hours. Carolina wrens have a nest in the dryer flue. No problem. Clothes got hung on the line eventually. Yard was something over 1 1/2' high. Shoulder still too gimp to fire up the Tampa Yazoo so brought out the hated (by Rima) weedeater. Munched weeds until shoulder hollered (clothes ready to be hung). Came in, sat until the holler let up, went out to hang clothes and Rima hauled the weedeater to the hole she was digging. She probably doesn't like it a lot! Can't say as I blame her. Knucklehead. For fun, when I went in to take my break, the weedeater was leaned up against my book drying platform. Rima very deliberately hauled it down and took it over to her first Summer hole. If you've pooches, I need say no more!

Spent most of the day just thinking. Machine racket is easily tuned out. Came up with a solution for my friend. Comes from 1968. He won't like it. I didn't either. Worked. He can't do it. I can't do it. One of 3 folk can, if they will.

**sigh**

* * * * * *

There's another big old sigh. If I live through May, I will have outlived my dad. Every 3rd year for the last 21 I've made a living will to work with the standard LWT. The living will has no known person as of 8 months ago. I terminated the LWT 6 months ago. No blood kin contact for more than 20 years except for the nephew that broke his neck while drunk driving 7 years ago. There is some value left in this property, there is a chance I might like to continue sucking air, no known family and those that are friends have put tags on certain artifacts. Therefore, they are not even possible as receivers.

What would you do?

why bother

2006-05-16T12:39:00.000-05:00

Looks like el presidente Whorehay Bush done gone and screwed the pooch again. I'd given up expecting anything of that fella several years ago and kinda figured my morning travels through the blogs would be amusing. It was. Don't think I've seen that many misspelled words in a long time. Flying fingers full of fury! ;o) "Comprehensive solution" my hairy ass. Nothing is gonna happen. Zilch. Nada.

Nigh-on noon, 61 degrees outside. Mid-May. North Florida. I jus' LOVE this global warming! A couple of mornings ago it was 48. I put on my best cutoffs, best wore-out tee shirt, and my 77 cent Chinee Wal-Mart Kerryboots and went outside to do some get-er-done chores that involved a garden hose. That would have been a photo opportunity for someone with a really deviant mind! Scrawny old greybeard with winter white hide a solid mass of goose bumps! Hey, I KNOW July is coming. So is August. ...and September. Air conditioning isn't a luxury for the majority that were not the result of at least 5 generations of culling by Darwin. It's a hidiously expensive form of life support. Just for kicks and giggles, the first 14 days (daze) of June, 1999, the daily high exceeded 100. Almost made 105 on a couple of daze. That, and the fully saturated atmosphere... "Bring Out Yer Dead! Bring Out Yer Dead!"

A while back a professional friend of mine was gousing about his electric bill. July. Hey. It's Florida. There is only one place more miserable in July. Ray Nagin is mayor.

He made a decent income, same for the 20+ years married to the mother of his kids of which one had already gone to join the "real world" after college, and another soon to do the same. They had a nice home and I was privileged to be a supper guest fairly often. Their electric bill went 20% over the mortgage one month. Nope, no hot flashes and 62 degree household, the thermostat was set on 78. The house was decently insulated, didn't carry the bane of everything but chicken coops of those sorry jalousie windows (whoever invented those should be taken out back and shot! ;o). "Jalousie" is a fwench word. Go figure. His electricity provider had just got approval by the state to add another fuel allowance surcharge. Did I mention Carter was pwesident? Damn. How thoughtless of me.

This summer should prove interesting. FPL (the best power company in Florida by my estimation which if it were a slice of watermelon, might be worth something if you put salt on it) has gotten rate after rate increases, BIG ones, justified by the major damage of the '04 'canes and jacked-up dead dinosaur prices. What used to cost me $9 in inflation converted dollars 30 years ago now cost $54. There is gonna be a real howl when summer sets in this year.

Ask me why I built the earth shelter so many years ago. It has one major league problem. Easily recognizable in July. Also in August. Always in September.

been a while...

2006-05-15T01:48:00.000-05:00

Sometimes "stuff" happens, kinda makes one say whoa fer a bit. One nice, tired Thursday evening I was relaxing with a decently fed self, a good book that hadn't been re-read in most of 15 years, and ignoring CSI on the tube when Rima put up a panic howl outside and a gentle thump was felt. Inside this multi-megapound (480,000 pound roof alone) earth shelter, a "gentle thump" has a different meaning. Got up and turned on the outside floods. It was green. All the unsettled commotion on the not yet-summer-sheathed atrium glass caused me to go look up. Green. Went out to soothe the Rimacritter and wandered up on the roof with the flashlight. Yup.

Took this photo when the sun came up.

Kinda did a deed on the greenhouse I was re-fitting as my shadecloth summer growing place.

Sometimes these old, beat-up, tall swamp oaks just say goodnight. Thump. When I figure out how to carve it up in 2' chunks, won't need any firewood next winter. The problem is cutting the large amount left at the 12' height over the front greenhouse. I'll have to move it before the next batch of 'canes and since 'ol arther is giving my shoulder a fit, won't try until the warnings. Fucking hate the pills. 20 years ago this summer a pack of fucking illegal aliens (read wetback coke-powered slime) cracked my skull, destroyed my left shoulder, broke both of my wrists, and just generally beat the hell out of me. Hey! It's a Mexican thing! Multicultural. Jus' love those sorry shits.

Before:

3 weeks and 4 days after the attack:

Those sorry pieces of shit are wonderful caring for your property. Another before:

I'd already been burgled twice which included the loss of a large portion of my great-grandad's tools. Didn't surprise me at all when it took 6 days for the device shown in the above photo to be returned to me on a flatbed dump truck. The sole anglo cop in ABQ i.d.ed the wetback crew. No prosecution of course. Got a sick giggle on the explaination. They were under surveillance for trafficing cocaine. "How long?" I asked . "3 years". Yeah.

I'll take the time this week to condense the April '06 photo file from the local rural lockup for you. This county is now probably 30% wetback. Last observation, DCF had 100% senoritas (can't be true, only one LAIP observation however).

And yes, after 3 attemped home invasion robberies, all terminated, I sleep with a fast arm and a 12 gauge by the door. ALL of the invasions were by Mexicans. Love 'em dearly. Wherever there is a Mexican population, one can expect to be prey.

* * * * * *

Frankly I don't give a damn about the folk Fred is talking about. That's a go read it. I also rather enjoy Mexico's history of true monkey stupidity and get a kick out of the various US politicos calling the Mexican gummit corrupt! Pot, call kettle. Sheesh. Admittedly there are few regimes more corrupt than the source of the flood of truly untrained, partially housebroke bipeds than Mexico but one ought to take a serious look at how thouroughly one has stupified one's own house as well. Would you hire a generic HS grad? Hell, would you hire a BS from a public institution? Would you mortgage your hard earned to send a rug ape to one of those?

**sigh** Some are so very good. It's much fun teaching those that like learning.

double shot

2006-04-22T19:34:00.000-05:00

..of my baby's love..

Where were you on April 22, 1970? I got a kick out of Mostly Cajun's post this morning. Back then I still resided in the N. Va./D.C. mess as a South Alabama ex-pat/student/full-time employee/semi-homeless zit factory. One HAD to be 21 in order to sign any legal document other than military induction back then. Tried that when I turned 17. I figured that since my father took his WW 2 GI benefits and got his pilot's licence and I'd been flying with that circus of his buddies since shortly after being house-broke, had my First Class FCC ticket with scads of endorsements (got a day out of school for each exam, scheduled each one to maximize beach time! ;o), highest available amateur radio licence, was a crack shot courtesy of dad, grandad, a couple of uncles, and a retired OSS employee, figured it would be a snap. Four days of exams, all aced. Then came the medical. Should have started there. Failed it miserably. I'd really hoped to join the USAF, knew there wasn't a big chance other than the between the ears stuff (much easier later when I was too old) but worth a shot anyway. Kept my 1-A through school but that's another story..

Earth Day, 1970. Roomates with signing rental agreements were gone. There were 18 over my years in DC. Yeah, when I had to go through a really rock-and-roll background check for a security clearance that Sandy (my socks are made from hemp) Burgler should have, I was made to recall each and every place I'd lived. Lived in the Fort Myers Army barracks for a while. Damn cold on the street, a army bud told me how to sneak on base, whole drill on inspections, how to find a empty room, plus he gave me a wonderful wool lined arctic coat. Weighs more than my second ex-wife. Still got it. Sometimes it still feels like heaven smiled on me coming out from under my campsite and having those long, hot showers. I'll write about my camp site one day. Big azalea bush on the Blair House grounds. Kept most of the rain and sleet off my carcass and nearly all the snow as well.

Earth Day, 1970. The 1964 Barracuda was still on jack-stands being re-converted from C-altered back to possible street use. Young males have a talent for putting strange hardware into things with wheels and with the help of a passle of Latvians (ma & pa were WW 2 DP's), we stuffed a 440 mag plus goodies in a '64 cuda. 138 mph first time out in the quarter. Waaay too light in the rear as imagined. Still smoking tires in 4th. Had to settle on the 248 pound 350 cc (326 actually) Benelli kidney-wrecker dirt bike for the day's exploration. All the war protests were fun. Weed, wine, and women. Wrote about that in times past. Yeah, I most assuredly would have voted for Goldwater.

Where to go? Monument grounds? Bleh. Something niggles on my antique memory about Nader was supposed to be there and babble. Dupont Circle? Possibility. Confrontational sometimes and I hate the smell of tear gas. I always liked the nekkid lady in the 4th story window when the Washington Symphony did their free concerts though. I'm easy.

Rock Creek Park. That's where the interns out of Georgetown who manned the free clinic on Wisconsin Avenue would appear!

Yup. Mr. soon-to-be Dr. Loudmouth was there with his usual entourage plus a couple of dozen others. A minor disclaimer; Dr. L was pretty good at the free clinic. Very efficient, had the bedside manner of a flask of nerve gas. Admittedly, most of the folk appearing at the clinic during the 'nam protests were tripping out on some bad acid variant, some were also having babies, having heart attacks, and there were a LOT of mental cases that were not acid based. DC had a really high level of heroin addiction back then, dump in a half-million kids with candles, their poor addled grey goo got even wierder.

Dr. L invited the collection up to his dad's place on the lower Potomac in Maryland after a trip to his abode in Georgetown (also owned by pa) to collect "supplies". His abode was a trashy house in Georgetown surrounded by mansions and included 2 acres of weedy real estate. Megabucks even back then. Want to ask me what his daddy did for a living? Not worth the effort was it? Two answers and both were correct.

The "extra" real estate was used by a hatful of Georgetown med students to grow ditchweed. 'bout as wonderful as Donovan's banana peels or Sandy's socks.

This gets much worse before it gets better. The better is pretty damn good by anybody's standard and I'll get around to it. Right now, I'm out of gas.