My free opinion. Just because I can.
NEW PHOTO GALLERY at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/blackxak.
The old one will gradually disappear.
Click on the pix to make them bigger.
I was going to a ham dinner at the VFW….. well, anyway, somebody called and said "Come over Right Now, something's wrong with the cat!" So I did that and, hell, the cat was just coughing up a hairball. So there we were and the cat was the winner in the whole thing and his chones were not even in a twist. We mixed him some tuna juice with oily bozzo and he ate it because that’s like heroin for cats, they will kill for it.Oh, the lady and I accidentally did a little Boogie Woogie while the cat was coughing it's guts out. Well, it looked like dancing to meI came back home later and made a couple crispy chicken wraps which were good but probably not near as good as ham with all the trimmings. If the cat pulls that shit again I will bring it to the VFW and we can BBQ it with hot peppers and black olives. That is why I was late for ham and all the trimmings. Every cat has a silver lining!
Joe Arpaio is the sheriff of MaricopaCounty where Tucson is.He was just told by a federal judge to quit arresting Hispanic people and then asking if they were legal immigrants.He got so mad he sent his troops right out and did it again. And launched a criminal investigation of the people who told him no. Over the years Joe (America’s Toughest Sheriff) has fed prisoners bologna instead of roast beef, to save money;dressed inmates in (surplus?) pink underwear;housed them in big tents outside the jail in the Arizona heat with great ventilation and lots of Gatorade.Joe enjoys tremendous support from the population of the County.Except from the people he is investigating.Most prisoners apparently leave rehabilitated.Think bologna and pink pajamas.Personally I think it’s time to throw away most of the social workers and hire a lot more prison guards.Like the case of the Florida teens who poured isopropyl alcohol on a neighbor teen and burned him half to death, just because they thought he was a snitch.I know they’re somebody’s kids (ALL prisoners are somebody’s kid…) but do we want people like that running around after a pleasant and cozy stint in Juvenile Jail?I do – once they turn 50 and get out of prison and have had time to think about all that.I think Joe has the right idea and I am nominating him for Santa Claus!Ta!
My baby brother Brian died last Sunday in Rincon, Georgia at age 51. I understand that the couple weeks before he died he was playing Dodgem Cars on a borrowed electric scooter in the plat where he lived . He was feeling a lot better because he had told his physicians to discontinue the chemotherapy that was supposed to give him longer life but almost killed him. Apparently it was pretty peaceful , at an early family Thanksgiving dinner when somebody checked to see if he needed more of anything ,and suddenly there was nobody at home. At least I am told. I didn't know him nearly as well as the other siblings because he was barely in grade school when I went off to college. He wound up joining the Navy and did something or other on the deck of an aircraft carrier, arguably one of the most dangerous work environments in the world. Got run over by an airplane, crunched his foot and spent some time in a hospital in Spain getting it fixed. The xrays looked like the back of the nuts and bolts department of a hardware store. And he wound up working and going to school with one of those big aircraft companies in the southeast when he was separated from the Service. Aerospace Technical Writer, I think, that kind of thing. He found a wife and daughter along the way - Renee and Sarah -and was interested in everything. Over the past few years he set up a big variety of websites that had to do with animals, nature, rockets, space and patriotism and he participated in numerous computer technical sites worldwide to help other users. You can find his thumbnail index page at
http://b40.50megs.com/thumbs.htm.
He also created most of the background designs for his websites.
My take on all this:
1. I feel bad when people I love and care about sail out of my life. I think that dying with Thanksgiving dinner is better than living longer and mostly dead. And mostly dead, perversely, costs a lot more too.
2. I'm reminded of the Psalm in the Bible that stipulates there is a time for everything, being born, dying and every thing in between. I see life as a giant continuity, a big roller coaster where some of us jump on for the ride and, at some predesignated point, jump off again, or into the next life, or another life. It's all defined ahead by Somebody and that's how it is.
3. I think that our friends and family are on loan only, to us, by the Universe, and we are on loan to the others who care for us. We belong to the Universe, or God, if you will, and the loans will be called in eventually. But what a ride while they're in force!
Happy Thanksgiving! Here's to you Brian and Renee and Sarah. Ta!
There are a couple good movies about wrecks flying around the ether this week. one police force in the UK has combined forces with some students and a very good studio to produce one about the dangers of texting while driving. I suspect that most students will watch it for the excitement and horror and their parents will take it very seriously and worry twice as much. Here is a taste and other episodes can be found on You Tube. Warning: This film clip depicts highly realistic and graphic footage of an auto accident.
The Public Television people have produced a drama called COLLISION that has appeared on Masterpiece Contemporary the past two weeks, about a collision on a motorway (freeway) outside London in which every individual involved in the accident has a secret of some kind. A great mystery, good characters and an interesting accident investigation. There's a place by way of the link http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/index.html where you can watch both episodes in their entirety. Neither of these is probably suitable for Christmas Eve but if it's been a dull holiday week..... Ta!
It sounds to me like a song for Christmas so I cut it out and put it here. If I feel like writing more soon, you will get more soon.
This song is dedicated to Karen Sanders, my classmates in grade school and all the Little Ladies in their Gowns.
I keep thinking about moving in a year. If I adjourn to Lakeside Apartments where the Old People live, I get round the clock security and maintenance, one giant living room plus a kitchen and bath, stunning views of the City and an extra $400 free each month in my budget. I wouldn't pay utilities. Not to mention all the old ladies I can chase. About three hundred. I may have a feagued-up knee but none of them can run very fast either. If I decide to take up residence there it wont happen until October of next year but I am getting rid of books and packing most of the rest just in case. This would be a fine excuse to get rid of about two thirds of the stuff I own and trip over every day.
It’s been a whole month since I wrote anything in here.I must have been experiencing hedonistic visions.Two weeks ago Daylight Savings Time slammed shut with a bang.I just wish they’d leave the fooking sun alone and quit changing the gears on the clocks.It also niggles because this whole thing started during World War I, presumably so that soldiers could have a couple more hours of daylight to butcher each other in the trenches of Ypres. Just when I’m getting going really solidly in my day, three in the afternoon comes and the warning bell sounds.In two more hours it’s dark and I wonder if there really was a day to begin with.Most of the leaves are in the gutters and the trees have holes in them.And the night wind is chill.
Of course, with most of the daily span less than opaque there are compensations to be had:reading mystery books; restoring old smoking pipes;cooking solid and unhealthy meals and eating, eating, eating. Tonight we had chicken tenders, slaw and sourdough bread.That was before the cookies. Watching movies on Feelyvision and sleeping just because I can are kinda’ fun in themselves.
I read on the Internet news that the Army psychiatrist who shot and killed all the soldiers at Fort Hood, Texas, in the name of religion, has stabilized, may no longer be able to walk and has intense pains in his hands.Sounds like karma to me.I am not an advocate of killing but I am a giant fan of law and order.Himself will presumably have plenty of time to think about the consequences of his personal jihad rolling up and down the halls of Leavenworth prison and learning about chronic hand pain.
Geez!If that’s all the news that’s fit to print, it’s a hell of a world, isn’t it?Ta!
Yes, here it is, a 1937 Bugatti of which I would like one for Christmas. Please send.
There is a guy several blocks away who had a little trouble last night when he got drunk, raced his SUV through a major intersection without stopping. He ran over the sidewalk, up the hill on the lawn, up three steps and blasted into his own house, obliterating the living room and most of the kitchen. His tomato soup is no longer sitting on the stove.
He is having bologna sandwiches today in jail. His house may have to be torn down due to structural damage. What do you imagine he may be thinking right about now? Ta!
Just a song for tonight. And a couple of thoughts. When this girl sang this song the handicapped Royal Air Force was fighting for Britain's life against the Luftwaffe, families were getting telegrams "Sorry your son's dead. But it was a heroic sacrifice." A household was eating about 3 or 4 ounces of meat a week (about the amount of one McDonald's Angus burger patty), execrable bread with not much flour in it, and whatever vegetables you could grow in your backyard. Lots of turnips, lots of cabbage, lots of the kind of stuff nobody would eat much of in the old days. Not to mention that many folks quit eating the veggies because bombs fell on their houses at night and blew them into vegetable stew. That was not an Inconvenience, that was one Big Fecking Problem. So when I'm bitchy, I'm going to talk to some really old folks and play this song (and admire Vera Lynn, Mom always told me to marry a girl like her...) and get a little teary and probably feel a lot better. How about you? Ta!
It's the first part of October and my brother is sick, my sinuses are full, it's chilly and I had a date with a girl today who never showed although I earlier had a faint intuitive hint that she wouldn't. Later she apologized saying: "Blix bozzon gingermel, uh, koochimus kozzo, uh, and, my mixer deblabna nonivor. Ex, I'm sorry but, kozzen bigervere tasio, but maybe we cag met mogether menother time."
I am another year in the journey. I celebrated with various and plentiful shrimp in green hot horseradish sauce, sushi, a trip to the Goodwill Outlet and peace of heart.
If you play the video under here you can guess how old I am! Ta!
It is a humid night in the Big City and there are little tiny flies cruising silently around the house. And an Idia moth on the kitchen wall by the coffeepot. I suspect this is the famous coffee moth, but I can't figure the tiny flies. There is nothing in the kitchen available that would attract them, no trash, no mold, just Pine-Sol and the smell of a clean army barracks.
I was in a place today with a psychiatric nurse and others and had to help restrain some lady who had gone seriously psychotic until the police got there. The psych nurse hid in the corner and I sat next to the lady wondering why everybody had their mouths hanging open. Whenever she twitched I shook my head No and told her I would break her arm. Actually she would have broken mine being in her early thirties and in her physical prime. Besides me being sixty-four and fat and having a bad leg. People who want to kill people are terribly strong! But the police came and marched her out and then we all worked on our adrenalin for a bit.
I thought it was very gracious of CBS-TV to air the season premiere of The Mentalist on the eve of my birthday. In addition, in case it bombs, I have an exciting volume on biological warfare and another concerning a murder at the G8 Conference in Scotland some time back. Possibly a new mystery will come out of the current G20 in Pittsburgh. I am eating Chinese for lunch tomorrow and probably McDonald-ese for supper later on, who knows.
My friend Theresa and I went for a picnic in Kettering. Her Bitch-and-freeze dog went with us. Name of Mimi. Chased all the ducks away, was rewarded with fried chicken. One fine dog! One fine girl!
New Albany, Indiana was a Big City when I was a kid on my bike. If you click on the pix you get big ones. Photos by Thomas Kepshire.
Top: the K&I Bridge to Louisville. Trains ran down the middle and cars and trucks in lanes at the side. It had a see-through metal grid roadway and made a funny noise under the tires when Dad drove over it. When I rode under it on my bike I could smell humid organic mud, vegetation, creosote and hot metal. I still can smell that today.
2: The tower at the New Albany end of the Bridge that controlled all the crossing gates. Two rail lines crossed thorugh the middle of a major intersection.
3. In the upper left where the silver metal signal box is, used to be a shack where a signalman sat all day and flagged down traffic on Main when the gates went down. It WAS a shack and I remember a skinny old man in greasy clothes sitting on dark greasy pillows.
4: A Monon diesel engine at the train station circa 1949. As a little kid I can remember hearing steam locomotives in the night at the station.
My dream for next spring is to save enough money to spend a week back there with no relatives, but exploring old haunts to see how they've changed.
There was a B-17 bomber flying around the other day about noon, circling the City while I drove down Wilmington Pike.The glorious sound of propellers made me look up.You don’t hear those anymore like you did when I was a kid.If they were on their way to plaster Dusseldorf, somebody was certainly steering on the wrong compass heading.Eventually it disappeared.
Us one, scumbags zero.Two men with guns invaded a home last week on Burkhart Avenue.One of them got a silver bar and some prescription medication and the other got shot straight through the head once the resident got his hands on his own gun.Dead Fred!The other guy was traced through a pawn shop transaction and police went to his home where they found him dead inside with slashed wrists after a three hour standoff.Sorry Charlie!Two scumbags won’t do home invasions anymore.The resident got his property back.All is well in the BigCity.No I am not a pussy-foot social worker.
Us one, scumbags zero, part 2.A high school kid went to the home of his girlfriend who had just broken up with him and beat her senseless, finishing off by dropping a concrete picnic table top on her.He had beaten her up once before.She is in intensive care with fractures of everything.He then deliberately walked out onto the freeway in front of a speeding car and was killed instantly. Bang! Sorry about your kid.One less person to beat up women when he’s unhappy.All is well in the BigCity.No I am not a pussy-foot social worker.Ta!
The God of my understanding decreed by surprise that last night should be payday and not Monday morning.Last night was Friday.What a stunning surprise!Today at noon I shifted into my shopping frenzy mode.Since my budget is a stretcher for a sick economy, I decided to feed at the Linden Discount Market which is a dollar and produce store run by a couple outlanders I can’t identify and a girl named Hegira (journey) whom I can.I think she is Iranian of Mexican descent.Or Mexican of….well….She talks nice to me and teaches me Spanish words.I frenzied thusly:
-Six bars of perfumed soap (a buck) made in Thailand for a firm in the United Arab Emirates.Which means it’s likely not to contain pork fat.
- A four ounce bottle of Zmygz aftershave which is made in China by Pujiang Onlyou Cosmetics Co., Ltd. And smells like a cross between Aqua Velva and a tired Hongsan steel mill at five o’clock on a Friday afternoon.With a little imagination it could be a cousin of Fahrenheit 451.This company also makes Vigour for men.
- two peach scented candles from Betty Crocker USA
- a jar of Five Spice powder for Chinese cooking this winter
- various trash bags (droll but invaluable)
- a bottle of Memphis Master Barbeque sauce which I know I can fix with spices if it turns out to be nasty.
- two boxed Thai Kitchen dinners of noodles vegetables and peanut sauce which I highly recommend to anybody, I have eaten them before.You can also get them at Kroger’s for more money.
- a winning two dollar lottery ticket.
- Sharp (brand) wristwatch from the scratch and dent department, but it looks and works fine, guys!
I imbibed later at my favorite four-star Chickenaria with a high tea of 7 boneless wings (chicken breast chunks but don’t tell anybody), slaw and sweet tea.Now I am sitting here smelling like a steel foundry and making plans to go out tomorrow to buy REAL groceries and pay REAL bills.
Hell!I know I’m poor guys!But I gave up long ago lusting for everything that everybody else owned and just being grateful for what I’ve got.It was one hell of a shopping spree for about twenty dollars and I’ll do it again next month.Ta!
I like to mess with bill collectors.I never had the opportunity to do that before until this economic mess came up.I owed some small money on three medical bills.When the medical conflicts with the grocery in my budget, the grocery wins because I like to eat.I delayed paying the medical until they were just on the edge of Way Overdue.By that time a couple of the medicals had turned the accounts over to a collection agency.And by this time, a week later, I have paid the bills and have my cancelled checks.So when I get a notice in the mail from one of those (ragpickers) bill collectors, I made up a little form to send back.It goes like this:
“The bill was paid in full (yes/no) on (date)
I have my cancelled check (yes/no)
If I answered Yes to both items, you need to get in touch with your client.I can see now why minimal intelligence is required for your job position.If you want to try making it in a real job, try McDonalds.”
If you don’t like smoking don’t read this next section.
The tobacco companies aren’t stupid.Now that the price of RYO cigarette tobacco has gone up to almost $40 for a 14 oz. bag, several of the companies are making pipe tobacco in a thin ribbon cut that also happens to work really well in cigarette machines.It costs about $15 a pound and is immeasurably better than much of the RYO.Lightly flavored and cheap.I’m thinking of abandoning my ready mades (which I can still afford) in favor of some of the new pipe tobacco even though it’s more inconvenient to roll the equivalent of a pack for 15 minutes a day.I particularly recommend KENTUCKY SELECT FULL FLAVOR which is flue cured Burley with a tiny dab of chocolate and fig flavoring.It’s made by an outfit in North Carolina.Now put that in your Funk & Wagnall’s and smoke it!
Supper is over, the dishes are done, I am showered and shaved and I think I am going to plunk my tutu down in front of the TV for a bit.Ta!
...or Fair Doings in the Big City. Take your pick. This past week I have:
- had abdominal cramps for a day and a night because I ate some too-old refried beans out of my own fridge. This was not nice and I will heat them with a blowtorch next time. - broke up with a girlfriend. I know you're all ready for the juicy details but you have to talk to me in person to find them out. - been babysitting a hedgehog named Codger who snarls when I feed him. - been sleeping normally and not all day. This has been very good for chores and appointments. - have seemed generally peaceful in and out of the rain.
Why I mistrust organized Bishops (from ABC News Australia):
"Catholic Archbishop of Melbourne Denis Hart has been accused of saying to a sexual assault victim: "Go to hell, bitch". The Age newspaper has obtained court transcripts which show the outburst happened after the woman knocked on the Archbishop's door at 1:20am in March 2004"
We had a spectacular accident on North Main Street yesterday near where I used to live. Possibly one driver had a medical problem and jammed his foot down on the accelerator. Possibly another driver got road rage thinking the first one was doing some oneupmanship and also floored it. They both hit solid things (10 blocks down after hitting 12 other cars on the way) at Main and Forest, driver #2's car blew up after his full size Cadillac was reduced to the size of a motorcycle and he blew up with it. The other driver shuffled off this mortal coil shortly after in the hospital and 10 other people were removed by ambulances. What actually got this going may never be solved but it made some great pictures.
Now I am going to have some cheerios for supper so Ta! to all of you good and mellow citizens!
Earlier when I was eating my mangos and chutney I kept hearing this buzzing and figured it was a fly or two caught in the toaster. But it started again later and I had to check, to find that it was my two-dollar phone that I got the other day from the thrift shop. On Low it doesn't make any sound and on High it rings but I had it on medium and it just kind of vibrated. I think I'll sit a water glass next to it so the vibration is a little louder in case I'm in the other room.
In this episode you just get me. I have been absent in more ways than one the past few weeks and here is how I am today. Back in April? May? when I discovered I was having depression - courtesy of others - and checked with the doc, she started by putting me on Paxil CR (time release) 30mg. And I wound up sleeping most of my life away. Then we went down to 20 mg and I slept half my life away. Then we went down to 15 mg and I slept more than usual. Than I talked to my pharmacist and found that 1/3 of his clients had the sleep problem with the CR version specifically. Back to the Doc and on to 20mg Regular, not time release. Not quite enough. So, to 30 mg Regular and it appears (knock on wood and say a prayer...) that it may be just right.
Trouble is that for each change of dosage it takes about a week and a half or two weeks for it to kick in so I can see what I've got. During that time I had no depression but I slept so much that I kind of shied away from doing some regular things like writing emails. You see. And that's where I've been pretty much. Now I know what people are saying when they talk about the ups and downs of adjusting medication. I just never had that happen before.
Got in a little bit of a twit last week because I priced root canals and caps for a molar tooth and, with insurance, the best I could come up with was $1200. So I went to my old ghetto dentist and had him pull it for $50. (Tom Kernan at E 3rd and Irwin) Haven't regretted it for a minute. The big house up there is his office. They told me that if I saved the tooth (I did) and put it under my pillow I would get a red-headed bride with money. It has a permanent place of honor there. No wonder Obama's trying to reform those health care idiots!
Today, as we speak, I'm doing ok. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, no depression. Grateful for many things, most of them pretty everyday. Hitting my meetings. Working with my Rotten Kids who are all doing really well. Doing some projects at home for relaxation -- a couple new summer scrub shirts, one in a scarlet Chinese cotton pattern, another of loose-weave unbleached muslin... Dyeing some stuff.
Made a wristwatch band out of a $1 dog collar from the dollar store just because I could, and for the experience and skill. Mayhaps I'll make some to sell. I've done pretty good on pipe tampers and tobacco pouches. Have a boxful of pipes I'm ready to sell on eBay. Done a little cooking, new stuff, and all on the diet. Have been doing my special refried beans, scrambled eggs and chopped tomatoes for breakfast once in awhile. And still managing to lose weight. Blood sugar is ok.
I think my Higher Power is getting a good laugh out of all this. I ask "What am I supposed to be learning?" and something new happens. So that is how I am. This all may change tomorrow but today I am good. Today is fine! Ta!
The first part of this is the entry just below this.
In 1942 there was a Navy recruit who trained to be a gunner on an aircraft carrier. Being somewhat hygienically conscious he asked his trainer if he would have time to brush his teeth after battle stations were sounded. "Why certainly!," said the instructor. "Who in their right mind would send a sailor out to battle with dirty teeth." That was before the Battle of Tuvalu Sea when the sailor spent 72 hours on continuous duty shooting enemy planes, getting shot at and becoming generally dirty and messy. By the time the last surviving plane had landed he had lost his toothbrush and was using a cold chisel to clean the grit and gunpowder off his teeth.
Today I got the cheapest estimate for the Root Canal. It would cost only $528 out of pocket. "Then there's the Cap," said the receptionist. Apparently a Cap is necessary to protect the Root Canal stuff. It will cost only $1050 out-of-pocket. I think it is made out of a titanium-gold alloy. You understand that for $1600 I could buy a small farming community in northern Russia. It felt a whole lot like the gunner after the battle.
Tomorrow I am going to call up the Clinic and tell the Battle Surgeon to prepare for an extraction. For about a hundred bucks and a hammer and a pair of pliers much can be accomplished. The hammer is to knock me out and the pliers, well........... Soon maybe I will be able to whistle out of the side of my mouth. Ta!
Three years ago I decided take advantage of my fancy dental insurance. I never had it before and it cost only $19 a month. I thought I'd have my teeth cleaned so I would look like like a movie star and called Aetna (yes, that's who it is) to find an in-network provider. And they sent me to Doctor C1 who had flat-screen tv's in his waiting room with ads for cosmetic restoration of teeth and some tear-off Botox coupons at the receptionists counter for me to take care of my battered nose. Provided really excellent dental care. And I wound up paying him a lot of money from time to time and didn't worry about it too much because I figured everything's gone up in price including dentistry. If I hadn't had the insurance I would have been paying a lot more and taking a part time job.
But the Big Kahuna came down last week. I had a toothache, just little, and went to my combat-zone basic tooth-pounder. Who took an xray and told me that I would need a root canal proceedure and he didn't do that except with a nine millimeter in burglary emergencies.
In my investigations with Aetna and a couple other dentists who actually did root canals, I suddenly found that my original provider, C1, was an out-of-network practitioner, Oh Horrors!, and that his associate in another location, C2, was an in-network person. Thank you Aetna! So I went racing to C2 who said they were accepting new patients, but they didn't do root canals and they always referred Root Canals to C1.
Now this might be something to just laugh about or sue somebody about except my dental clock is ticking. What is just an occasional zing in my #15 molar today is going to be a screaming siren in a week or ten days and I don't have time to shop around. So C1 is going to get my money. $600-and-some after the 65% Aetna pays for out-of-network services. (Not the 80% an in-network would pay...)
Once this tooth is fixed and I stop worrying about it, I am going to do something not nice to Aetna. I don't know what it will be yet. Maybe hack their computer network and charge their top executives for the Federal Bailout.
But today it isn't hurting much at all and I am going to have bacon and eggs for supper against next week sometime when I will eat baby food for a couple days to be nice to the newly manicured molar. Don't you just hate it when that happens? Ta!
This has not been a great year. Back before Christmas a couple family members got diagnosed with something bad. A good friend died in February. Another one in March. One of the family members died in June. The other one is still hanging in there. And I got depression which I didn't know I had until somebody told me I should go see my Doctor. Who fixed me up with a time-release antidepressant, all 37.5 mg worth. Then I had no depression and I was rocking and rolling until I started sleeping the best part of every day. At night. In the mornings. In the afternoons. After supper. So we cut the dose in half and I was sleeping in the mornings, at night, in the afternoons and sometimes after supper. And we cut THAT in half and I was sleeping in the mornings, at night, in the afternoons and rarely after supper.
There must be a song about sleeping that much, and it goes to the tune of The Music Goes Round and Round but I haven't figured out the words yet. So I conferred with my pharmacist, then called the Nice Lady Doctor and she put me on the Classic version of the medication, the non-time-release version. There I was yesterday, two days off the sleepytime goodies and the new stuff hadn't kicked in yet. Every time another driver cut in front of me on the road I wanted to yell "Die, Bitch!" or "Hope you wreck!" They wouldn't have heard me, I had the air conditioner on.
Today it is four in the afternoon, I have just finished my breakfast and I'm starting my day such as is left. And I had to call the dentist a few minutes ago because all the sleeping has given me a cavity which is starting to talk to me loudly. For the last couple years I went to a fellow who had a nice office, video presentations in the waiting room about cosmetic dentistry and bills that I had to dip into my savings - now non existent - to pay. And I had the firmest, shiniest teeth in the county. Before that I hadn't gone to anybody for ten years because I had no problems with my teeth. And back when I was a legitimate working stiff I used to go to an inner city clinic that sat just in front of a public housing project at an intersection where there was a wreck or a robbery now and then to spice things up. And, years ago, my wife and four kids went there too. Nothing fancy, if something hurt you went there and got it fixed with no frills.
I am going back tomorrow to the good old clinic place with the old chairs and no TV in the waiting room and moderate expenses for services rendered. And the dentist who is older than God and still has a steady hand. I will get a filling and no sales pitch about caps or crowns or botox-bo-teeth. Half the clientele in the waiting room will be poor folks or meth addicts with no teeth to speak of. Kind of like having an experienced battle surgeon remove a mole. And it will be tight and right and only I will be responsible for having the shiniest teeth in the county. Unless I ask.
A couple times a week I view the website of ABC News Australia. It is very similar to USA news except that the police don't have guns - well, most of them don't - and everybody drives on the wrong side of the road. This week there is a contest of wills going on between the Australian Meat Producers and PETA. The Meat people who want to keep making lots of money with their packaged carcassian product have commissioned a series of video ads for Australian TV on the benefits of red meat in the national diet. Here is an example:
The PETA's who want everybody to become vegeterian, give up natural fur and not kill animals, have also commissioned their own set of advertising posters of which one is here:
Now you can figure out which side you like. Personally I think baby pigs are a lot more fun than dogs and certainly more intelligent. I also have no objection to eating their garlic and pepper coated loins with oven-browned potatoes when they get too big to play in the living room. Ta!
Is that one word or two? Well, I got some today. I have a couple flies and this is the best stuff anybody ever invented for that. It's not green, it's only a dollar for four rolls and the FDA and Homeland Security haven't gotten around to evaluating it yet. It's hard to find because everybody has too much Green insectiside with no phosphoric acid in the propellant. At $4 a shot. Old Cranky Fart and 1943 ride again! Flies don't!
Cindy got funeraled and buried a couple days ago and it was nice. Lots of flowers, solo piano with old Protestant hymns (long may they wave!) subdued emotions. The preacher was a young kid who probably will become a really good preacher with some practice. We had a show and tell on a couple psalms and his entreaty to ask ourselves where we would be spending eternity. And something about a ship sinking.
My first impression was that I was shocked at how old the brothers and sisters seemed to me. We haven't been in one place together for 15 years. One seemed the same, he is always himself. Another - Joe Slick - is still slick but with gray hair. Aside from an Elegant Lady all the rest of us including the aforementioned are beginning to look aged like old...........life preservers? Every one of us has weathered unexpected death or chemical dependency or living with chemical dependency or poverty and the wrong kind of stuff to eat. Having jobs, getting laid off, having rotten kids, having good kids, paying the bills on time or not. Disastrous love affairs. Disastrous affairs.
I love you all kids, these are observations which is why you are unnamed. If you think my perception is skewed, you're right. Say a prayer that my skew gets un-.
I wore to the funeral: A pair of khaki ladies cotton slacks but you couldn't see the elastic waistband; a khaki t-shirt; a dark blue vest that I sewed up out of an old combat jacket with pockets from blue jeans material made from a ladies skirt. Thank God for sewing machines. I was so proud of myself that I didn't wear a suit. But half the rest of the bereaved apparently also hit the thrift stores before the funeral and looked at least twice as good as me in no suits. God bless us everyone!
My brother Steve commented that we are all survivors. I think that expressed what we were all about, and Jesus loved the outfits and the people. Kind of reminded him of the reprobates He used to hang around with.
So we are all home in scattered locations in the State and brotherhood and concern has been served. We are all so much happier sitting on somebody's front porch freshly shaved and cologned, and dressed like trailer trash with a guitar in the front and the NASCAR races in the back! Safe journey Cindy! Bless us one and all! Ta!
We Are hot and bitchy in the BigCity today.Critical of God, that stupid little shit with the scraggly beard who just got elected (maybe…) in Iran, and of Michael Jackson whose sobby memorials on TV and the Internet are blotting out my real heroine FarahFawcett, and the rest of my favorite programs.I have just found out that the owner of my building is selling it sometime in the future.It is a long way away but I am initially consumed by anxiety.Probably it is just too flucking hot and my ass is sore, who knows?
My sister-in-law Cindy died.Tuesday.She had breast cancer.We waiting relatives went down the winding path with phone messages, “We’ve got it – we can reconstruct – oops!There’s a little spot here but we think we can get it, oops!Another spot here – we will try experimental treatment – She’s in Hospice and is not expected………..”Any of you who have had loved ones or friends die of cancer know this dance.
So I’m going to a funeral Monday which is one of those things you do not want to attend, is inconvenient, makes you feel bad, makes you want to go back up the highway where everything is presumably normal.
My friends here have noticed that I am not in my usual giddy, funny, calm, frame of mind.Not that I’m not wearing my anger and impatience like a flag.(I am the last to know…).Somebody came over the other night with a couple packs of cigarettes and a helping hand.Somebody else is financing my gas and meals and whatever else the day of the funeral.And will not take no for an answer.So I said yes.All kinds of people have sincerely offered anything, and they mean it.And one good friend convinced me a couple days ago that it is as blessed to receive as to give and it won’t kill my pride to let people help me.
So I am going to do that.I asked a friend to help install an air conditioner in the front of the house which may help the mood in quantum.I am taking it easy, hiding in the bedroom and the kitchen – which are air conditioned – and reading good books and drinking chocolate milk.Smoking my pipe.Simple things.I need to be simple right now.I can get complicated in a week or so when it’s time.But not so complicated that I forget that my friends are my real treasure, they always have been.And let them carry part of my burden for awhile.Ta!
BOTTORFF, Cynthia "Cindy" (Byrd) age 50 of Hamilton, OH; lost her battle with breast cancer on Tuesday June 23, 2009 at Hospice of Hamilton. Cindy was born in Dayton, OH on November 26, 1958 to Floyd and Nancy (Rickard) Byrd. She was a member of Post 71 AMVETS and Aerie 3680 of the Eagles of Fairfield. Cindy is survived by her husband of 16 years Nick Bottorff; 2 sons Randy Forman and Joshua Forman; one step son Sean Bottorff; 3 grandchildren; 3 sisters Lisa Byrd, Debbie Combs (Kevin), and Jennifer Green (Terry); and many nieces and nephews. Funeral services are Monday June 29, 2009 at 11am at Anderson Funeral Home 1357 E. 2nd StFranklin, OH with Rev. Max Fernandez officiating. Burial will be in ButlerCountyMemorial Park. Visitation will be Sunday from 6-8pm at the funeral home. In lieu of flowers donations can be made to the Susan B. Kohmen Breast Cancer Research Foundation.
In this City from 1987 until yesterday, employees of the City were required to live within the City limits. I lived in the City at the time and I still do, by choice. I am also retired and have no school age children. City administrators in the 80’s touted the advantages of a vote for a residency requirement to be pretty much that people who lived in the City they worked in were more responsible, more energetic, more productive than if they hit the freeway to their house in the suburbs at five every evening. Funny, I always thought it had to do with a day’s work for a day’s pay – or a work ethic that mandated that I perform certain tasks daily, for a certain salary, no matter where I happened to live. Apparently that was too old fashioned a concept. “Wouldn’t you rather have your Police Officer live in your neighborhood?” one ad asked.
So we got residency from the voters and we got:
- workers’ families forced to send their children to a school system that was crumbling as school administrators stole money and used Dayton simply as a quick step to better things for themselves.
- relaxed hiring requirements for some public safety officers because there were not enough qualified applicants under the old system within the City limits.
- dedicated and productive employees – and some not so dedicated – being observed and followed by private detectives hired by the City if there were suspicions that they lived even five hundred feet over the line.
Now the Ohio Supreme Court has ruled that residency was never a valid concept legally. City employees can live wherever they want. And I suspect that, over the next five years or so when the housing market picks up, dribs and drabs of workers are going to steadily move outside the City to more prosperous suburbs with really good school systems. Also, apparently, the City now has some legal obligation to those people who were previously fired for ‘violating’ the residency rule. I gleefully hope it’s a heavy sentence and that those rehired workers come to the job every day and look their supervisors in the eye and say “Gotcha!”
Now, City of Dayton, maybe you can do some real and energetic work in your school system, on crime in neighborhoods, on your tax base, without having to imprison workers in an attempt to shore up the status quo. Time to don your thinking caps for some REAL progress! Ta!
while the cat was coughing it's guts out. Well, it looked like dancing to me I came back home later and made a couple crispy chicken wraps which were good but probably not near as good as ham with all the trimmings. If the cat pulls that shit again I will bring it to the VFW and we can BBQ it with hot peppers and black olives. 
