Remembering Easter Sunday
Easter Sunday. The unofficial first day of Spring. Christians all over the world dress up in their newest and brightest outfits to join their friends and family at their favorite places of worship. Those that don’t normally attend church on Sundays, make an additional effort to be there on Easter.
When I was a kid, everyone dressed in their “Sunday go-to-meeting clothes”. The Ladies, in newly purchased outfits of long flowing pastel and lace dresses. Heads adorned with a new matching hat, with veil, of course. High heeled, buttoned shoes of the same color. Some of the older ladies would even carry a parasol to match. The Gentlemen in light colored suits, white dress shirt, brightly colored tie, highly shined shoes, and either wearing, or carrying a hat. Their children were dressed to the “nines”.
I think Irving Berlin said it best in the song “Easter Parade”.
“In your Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it,
You’ll be the grandest lady in the Easter parade.
I’ll be all in clover and when they look you over,
I’ll be the proudest fellow in the Easter parade.
On the avenue, fifth avenue, the photographers will snap us,
And you’ll find that you’re in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet,
And of the girl I’m taking to the Easter parade.”
It was quite a sight to see, as they paraded along the sidewalks, or across the parking lots. They would stand outside the church for a few minutes, so that every passerby could see how “dandy” they looked. Smiling faces, bright attitudes, well mannered, and hoping the Sermon wouldn’t last too long. Need to get home, and get back into “normal” clothes. Hypocritical …Yes. Superficial …Yes. But beautiful, just the same.
For the Kids. Easter Sunday is a day of candy and hunting eggs. In the days leading up to Easter. Mom and the kids go to the market to buy dozens of eggs. Bring ’em home. Hardboil ’em. Let ’em cool. Now they are ready for color. What fun that was. Remember all the different colors? Mostly pastels. And every child (and adults) tried to make the fanciest one. You could write on them with that little grease pencil, that never did work quite right. You were supposed to use that funny looking wire egg holder to dip the eggs in color. That never worked any better than the grease pencil did. If you spilled the coloring on the table, or countertop, Mom wouldn’t get angry. She’d just say “that’s OK, it’ll wash right off” (and it didn’t). And the next day at school all the kids would have stained hands and fingernails. Those colored hands were worn with pride, as if they were a trophy, or a medal.
On Easter morning it was brightly colored baskets filled with giant chocolate bunnies, marshmallow peeps, jelly beans, peanut butter eggs, and a couple of colored hardboiled eggs with your name on them. If you were lucky, and Peter Cottontail remembered, you might even find my favorite…….Popcorn Balls. Popcorn shaped into balls with a sweet sugary substance to hold them together, and then wrapped in colorful cellophane. Remember? The bottom of the basket had that same colored cellophane shredded, and they called it “grass”. All the jelly beans would fall thru the “grass”, and end up in the very bottom of the basket. You retrieve the jelly beans by carefully removing the “grass” from the basket and replacing. Much to Mothers dismay, she finds the “grass” all over the house for the next six months. Not unlike the Christmas tree “icicles” that are found nearly everywhere for months. Just how does it do that?
The Easter Egg Hunt. In the afternoon, shortly after church, the hunt for Easter eggs commences. Mom and Dad have hidden colored eggs under the bushes out front, or behind the car tire in the driveway, or placed in the fork of the young trees in the backyard. You and your siblings, and maybe a few neighborhood kids, have to find them. Laughter, and giggling, and squealing abounds. The kid who gathers the most eggs wins a prize. (I sure hope it’s that hollow chocolate rabbit that I saw in the kitchen pantry).
Maybe your local community is sponsoring an Easter egg hunt. Dozens of kids start at the same time to find the little morsels hidden all over the local park. If you’re lucky enough, you may find an egg with a number, or letter on it. Thereby winning a shiny new Silver Dollar, or a coupon for a free milkshake, or sundae, at the local Soda Fountain.
Wow! Those were the days, my friends.
As adults, we all know that this isn’t the real reason for Easter Sunday. If it weren’t for Jesus Christ, and his resurrection, we, as the human race may not have survived
For GOD so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. — John 3:16 …
GOD bless all of you.
Til we meet again.
FB 04/08/12
“Holy Lambos, Batman”
“BAM” “BIFF” “POW” The following story is mostly true, and was seen played out just a few days ago in Montgomery County, MD.
Picture this: You are a Montgomery County police officer. You and your trusted Crime Fighting partner are cruising down Route 29 looking for some bad guys to bust. It’s been sort of a lazy morning so far. You and your partner are talking casually, but still aware of the area around you, looking for a possible crime in progress.
Up in front of your squad car, you are rolling up on a black Lamborghini roadster. As you move closer to this exotic automobile you realize that the Lambo has no license plate. Just some sort of winged creature painted where the tag should be. You hit the lights and siren. All of a sudden your partner exclaims “Holy Mackerel, it’s BATMAN”!!!
You and your partner walk forward on each side of the “Batmobile”. Standing abreast of the drivers’ door, you ask the driver for his license and registration, trying hard to stifle the snicker in your voice. The driver responds by saying that he must exit the vehicle to get to the passenger side to retrieve the registration, and the Maryland license plate.
You step back as the door opens. Out steps this huge, giant of a man dressed as “Batman”. He is towering over you. As the “Black Knight” swoops around the back of his “Batmobile”, cape flying regally in the air, your partner steps back. Never can be too sure with these wierdos.
As you are observing the registration, you ask, “OK Batman. What’s your real name?” Batman answers “Lenny”. (Damn, I was hoping for Bruce).
As the saga unfolds, the “Masked Crusader” explains that his real name is Lenny Robinson, and he is a Baltimore businessman. He is going to attend an event for hospitalized kids as part of a “Superhero Celebration” organized by the charity “Hope for Henry.”
“Lenny is a one-man operation and he is amazing and beautiful because he’s also doing this for free,” says Allen Goldberg, who founded the organization with his wife after the experience with their son Henry, whose rare illness left him hospitalized for long periods of time.
“When [Henry] was alive and hospitalized — for months at a time — we had to keep him entertained, so back in 2000, I bought the first ever portable DVD player,” says Goldberg. Henry watched a lot of Batman movies and cartoons so, after he passed away, they decided to give the same comfort and hope to kids whose circumstances land them in the hospital for extended stays.
The program’s gone from giving portable DVD players to kids to handing out iPads and throwing birthday parties for kids in the hospital on their special days. They even host those “Superhero Celebrations” at various hospitals throughout the year. Most superheroes are paid, but “Batman”(Lenny) does it for free.
“He comes across as Batman, he has the kind of gruff voice and he’s got the demeanor down and he holds himself erect like Batman,” explains Goldberg, adding “And he’s got the Lambo, which is pretty sweet, too.”
Mike Rosenwald from The Washington Post tagged along with “Batman” for one of his hospital visits. Mark posted the following:
Batman asked the nurses at the front desk whether there were any children who couldn’t come out of their rooms to see him. Assured that there weren’t, Batman headed back down to his Batmobile, followed by the mother of a baby girl with cancer and her healthy 4-year-old son, whose only goal in life at that moment was to see the Batmobile. When the boy saw the car, I thought his eyeballs were going to separate from his body.
Batman revved the engines and blasted the audio system – the Batman theme song. Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, Batman! He revved the engine some more. The little boy didn’t want to say goodbye, but his mom told him, “Batman needs to go fight the bad guys.”
The little boy cried.
“I want to go help him fight the bad guys,” he said.
His mom said, “You need to go help your sister fight cancer.”
Batman waved and sped away in his Batmobile!
— ——– —
Mark Hardigree, Jalopnik.com, interviewed Lenny by telephone. The Batphone rang and was answered “This is Batman.” Lenny is obviously amused by the attention, but it didn’t sound that important to him.
“I don’t do it to become famous, I do it for the kids,” Lenny told Mark. “They mean more to me than anything.”
And to prove it…… he had to cut this interview short. The reason? He had to take his niece to dinner.
— ——– —
Even though Lenny is amused at the media attention, his only goal is to entertain the hospitalized kids. He is so involved in what he does, that he is having a just-like-in-the-movies Batmobile being made at the cost of $250,000.00. It’s not ready yet. Wait until the police get a look at that monster tooling down the highway.
It is so refreshing, and heart warming, to see someone so unselfish of his time, and money, to help the children. GOD bless you, Batman.
Til we meet again.
FB 03/31/12
Bodily Functions at the Workplace
I informed all my readers when I started this Blog that it would cover all kinds of things that rattle around inside this brain of mine. It’s not a complex brain, actually kind of plain (and old), but it just may process information a little differently than yours.
I also stated, that the Blog would always make you think. Sometimes deep thoughts, reminders of your life, current events, or maybe just a chuckle or two. If you are not laughing half way through this Blog, it only means that you are not as sick as I.
We’ve all been there but don’t like to admit it. As much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise, the WORKPOOP is inevitable. For those who hate pooping at work, the following is the Survival Guide for taking a dump at work.
CROP DUSTING:
When farting, you walk briskly around the office so the smell is not in your area and everyone else gets a whiff, but doesn’t know where it came
from. Be careful when you do this. Do not stop until the full fart has been expelled. Walk an extra 30 feet to make sure the smell has left your clothing.
FLY BY:
This is the act of scouting out a bathroom before pooping. Walk in and check for other poopers. If there are others in the bathroom, leave and come back again. Be careful not to become a FREQUENT FLYER. People may become suspicious if they catch you constantly going into the bathroom.
ESCAPEE:
This is a fart that slips out while taking a leak at the urinal or forcing a poop in a stall. This is usually accompanied by a sudden wave of
embarrassment. If you release an escapee, do not acknowledge it. Pretend it did not happen. If you are standing. or sitting, next to the farter, pretend you did not hear it. No one likes an escapee. It is uncomfortable for all involved. Making a joke or laughing makes both parties feel uneasy.
JAILBREAK:
When forcing a poop, several farts slip out at a machine gun pace. This is usually a side effect of diarrhea or a hangover. If this should
happen, Do Not Panic. Remain in the stall until everyone has left the bathroom to spare everyone the awkwardness of what just occurred.
COURTESY FLUSH:
The act of flushing the toilet the instant the poop hits the water. This reduces the amount of airtime the poop has to stink up the bathroom. This can help you avoid being caught doing the WALK OF SHAME.
WALK OF SHAME:
Walking from the stall, to the sink, to the door after you have just stunk up the bathroom. This can be a very uncomfortable moment if someone walks in and busts you. As with farts, it is best to pretend that the smell does not exist. This very uncomfortable walk can be avoided with the use of the COURTESY FLUSH.
OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPER:
This is a colleague who poops at work and is damn proud of it. You will often see an Out Of The Closet Pooper enter the bathroom with a
newspaper or magazine under his or her arm. Always look around the office for the Out Of The Closet Pooper before entering the bathroom.
THE POOPING FRIENDS NETWORK (P.F.N.):
A group of co-workers who band together to ensure emergency pooping goes off without incident. This group can help you to monitor the
whereabouts of Out Of The Closet Poopers, and identify SAFE HAVENS.
SAFE HAVENS:
A Safe Haven is a seldom-used bathroom somewhere in the building where you can least expect visitors. Try floors that are predominantly of the opposite sex. This will reduce the odds of a pooper of your sex entering the bathroom
TURD BURGLAR:
This is someone who does not realize that you are in the stall and tries to force the door open. This is one of the most shocking and
vulnerable moments that can occur when taking a poop at work. If this occurs, remain in the stall until the Turd Burglar leaves. This way you will avoid all uncomfortable eye contact.
CAMO-COUGH: A phony cough that alerts all new entrants into the bathroom that you are in a stall is called a Camo-Cough. This can be used to cover-up a WATERMELON, or to alert potential Turd Burglars. The Camo-Cough is very effective when used in conjunction with an ASTAIRE.
ASTAIRE:
An Astaire is a subtle toe-tap that is used to alert potential Turd Burglars that you are occupying a stall. This will notify that the stall
is occupied. If you hear an Astaire, leave the bathroom immediately so the pooper can poop in peace.
WATERMELON: A watermelon is a big poop that creates a loud splash when hitting the toilet water. This is also an embarrassing incident. If you feel a Watermelon coming on, create a diversion. See CAMO-COUGH.
HAVANA OMELET:
A case of diarrhea that creates a series of loud splashes in the toilet water. Often accompanied by an Escapee. Try using a Camo-Cough with an Astaire.
UNCLE TODD:
An Uncle Todd is a bathroom user who seems to linger around forever. This person could spend extended lengths of time in front of the mirror or sitting on the pot. An Uncle Todd makes it difficult to relax while on the crapper, as you should always wait to poop when the bathroom is empty. This benefits you as well as other bathroom attendees.
Hope the Survival Guide helps, as the WORKPOOP is an inevitable part of life.
Til we meet again.
FB 03/24/12
Road Rage and What Causes It
I’m driving to work a few days ago. Cruising South on I-270. Got the cruise control set on 65 (the legal limit). My favorite big band CD is blaring out of my 8 speaker sound system. Left hand resting on the wheel, and the right hand finger-tapping to the music on top of the floor shift. The Eastern sunrise has that wonderful pinkish-orangeish-redish color that it gets on a cool, brisk winter morn. And I’m thinking, “all is right with the world”.
As my thoughts drift off to an early morning tee-time at some golf course, I glance in the left outside mirror, here comes a blonde driving a bright red M3 BMW. I sit up straight behind the wheel, square my shoulders, smooth out my hair and pony tail (more about that later), and place both hands on the wheel. Want to look professional, don’t ya know.
As the “Bimmer” slowly rolls by, I notice that the driver is not only blonde, but she is in her mid thirties, every hair in place, lightly applied makeup, and drop-dead gorgeous. My mind is starting to drift again, but trust me when I tell you, it’s not a golf course that I’m thinking about. Just when her right rear fender has cleared my left front fender, she swerves immediately into my lane, causing me to slam on the brakes, and steer to the right.
My heart is beating in my throat, palms are sweaty, brain is fuzzy, and then I hit the rib strips on the shoulder of the road, scaring the you-know-what out of me. Anger engulfs my body clouding my brain. I grip the wheel tightly, push the accelerator to the floor, and get the rear of that BMW squarely in my sights. I’m going to push her, and her $80,000 car off the road, and I don’t care what happens to either. How dare her do that to me? I’m going to get revenge!
Of course, I didn’t do the latter. Oh yea, I wanted to, but I didn’t. The motorists of today just can’t drive. They act as if they are driving the only vehicle on the highway. They tailgate, hog the left lane, don’t use turn signals, drive too fast in bad road conditions or too slow when it’s good, and haven’t the foggiest idea what a yield sign or stop sign means.
I’m sitting second in line at a stoplight. The car in front of me just can’t seem to wait for the light to change. (Must be late for the grand opening at the new WalMart, or happy hour at their local bar). They creep forward. They creep across the stop bar. They creep across the pedestrian cross walk. Creep, creep, creep. And when the light turns green, what do they do? Nothing. They just sit there. If you travel the highways and byways of our great nation as I do, then you know what I’m talking about. All of the preceding poor driving habits, happen every day.
I have decided to place names on the various drivers that we meet everyday:
CREEPY CRAWLER – See example above.
ROAD HOG – Don’t know which lane they want, so they drive in the middle.
ZIG ZAGGER – Drift left to right, right to left, like they forgot how to steer.
CURVE HATER – Cross the painted centerline on left hand curves, even blind curves on two lane roads.
NON-FOLLOWER – Pass you at the first opportunity, only to slow down in front of you.
MIRRORLESS – Changes lanes without looking, or caring. Everybody knows that mirrors are for shaving, or putting on makeup anyway.
TURNSIGNALESS – I don’t know which way I’m going, so why should you?
FIRST PLACE – Hurry, hurry, hurry. Switching lanes back and forth, Passing cars on the right and the left. Taking dangerous chances on each pass. GO, go, go. And when you get to your exit, guess who is the car directly in front of you.
And the worst: THE TAILGATER – Drive so close to your rear bumper, that not only can you not see their front bumper, license plate, or headlamps, but you can see the white knuckles grasping onto their steering wheel.
All of the above bad driving habits, make the rest of the considerate drivers, drive defensively 100% of the time. It makes the commute to work, or the leisurely Sunday drive with the family, less comfortable, and more of a chore.
They wonder why there is more and more episodes of “Road Rage” today. I can’t imagine why!
Me? I used to love to drive. Now, I just want to ride in the back of a fancy Lincoln, Caddy, or Benz, and let “Jeeves” worry about the traffic. Too bad I can’t afford too.
Til we meet again.
FB 03/18/12
A Little Humor
I’m working on many new blogs, but while doing research on several of the topics, I run across numerous funny articles, and jokes. Here is a short one to enjoy.
GOD CREATED MARYLAND and VIRGINIA
God was missing for six days. Eventually, Michael, the archangel, found him, resting on the seventh day.
He inquired, “Where have you been?”
God smiled deeply and proudly pointed downwards through the clouds,
“Look, Michael. Look what I’ve made.”
Archangel Michael looked puzzled, and said, “What is it?”
“It’s a planet,” replied God, and I’ve put life on it. I’m going to call it Earth and it’s going to be a place to test Balance.”
“Balance?” inquired Michael, “I’m still confused.”
God explained, pointing to different parts of Earth.
“For example, northern Europe will be a place of great opportunity and wealth, while southern Europe is going to be poor. Over here I’ve placed a continent of white people, and over there is a continent of black people. Balance in all things.”
God continued pointing to different countries. “This one will be extremely hot, while this one will be very cold and covered in ice.”
The Archangel , impressed by God’s work, then pointed to a land area and said, “What’s that one?”
“That’s Maryland and Virginia , the most glorious place on earth. There are beautiful mountains, rivers and streams, lakes, forests, hills, and plains. The people from this area are going to be handsome, modest, intelligent, and humorous, and they are going to travel the world. They will be extremely sociable, hardworking, high achieving, carriers of peace, and producers of good things”
Michael gasped in wonder and admiration, but then asked,
“But what about balance, God? You said there would be balance.”
God smiled, “Right next to Maryland and Virginia is Washington, D. C.
Wait till you see the idiots I put there.”
Hope you enjoy. See ya soon.
FB 03/18/12
“What If” at the Indianapolis Colts
What’s a fan to do? Peyton Manning’s rein as the premier quarterback at Indy, for more than a decade, may vanish in the next couple of days.
The deadline is March 8th. Will Peyton agree to a restructured contract and stay? Will owner Jim Irsay even make that offer, or just refuse to negotiate and Manning becomes a free agent? As fans, do we even want him to remain a Colt? Afterall, he is getting older and may be getting closer to his retirement.
Since Peyton’s neck surgery last September, we have watched him standing on the sidelines, watching as his world champion Colts lose game after game. If he stays with the Horseshoe, can he return to the quarterback position, and play with the same intensity, confidence, and ability that is the trademark of his career? Can he even throw at all?
Yes he can! A short choppy, 27 sec. video of Peyton throwing has popped up on You Tube. Practicing at Duke University, along with Dallas Clark, Austin Collie, and ex-Colt, Brandon Stokley, Manning is shown unloading some serious passes. The velocity and range appear good. Accuracy may be in question, but as with all quarterbacks, accuracy is sometimes only as good as your receivers. But, by golly, the man can still throw. What a relief.
Enter Andrew Luck, or maybe Robert Griffin III. Quite possibly the two best quarterbacks to enter the NFL, since Manning himself. Both should be first year starters in the NFL. Jim Irsay has said for months that the Colts will select Luck as their first round pick.
As Colt fans, what do we now? Keep Manning? Hey, he’s throwing, and he looked good in the short video. We all know that Peyton wants to remain a Colt. He has stated that fact, time and time again. So, Peyton stays, and Luck remains on the bench to learn from the master. If Manning gets hurt, or is not at his best during a game, we have a premier quarterback to step in and run the offense in a very similar way as Peyton himself. Maybe let Andrew start a few games to see what he’s made of. Afterall, he will be the future of the Indianapolis Colts.
Or………Scenario #2: Do we trade that first round pick for additional round picks to bolster our sagging, and aging, offensive and defense? There are quite a few NFL teams out there that are in need of a good quarterback. Redskins, Dolphins, Jets, and Chiefs, come to mind. Manning will need additional protection from the offensive line as he continues to rehab while playing the game he loves so much.
Or……….Scenario #3 (a very painful one): Draft Luck. Let Peyton go. I see this as being the way this will go down. Owner Jim Irsay will be looking forward towards rebuilding the franchise as they had to do in 1998-2000. Without Manning’s huge salary, the Colts will have a lot of money to spread around the league to obtain new, highly skilled players.
As we continue this saga, I am reminded of three other NFL quarterbacks that suffered nearly the same fate. Johnny Unitas of the Baltimore Colts, Joe Montana of the San Francisco 49s, and Brett Favre of the Green Bay Packers. Superior players that were adored, and admired by their fans. All three quarterbacks left their teams under different circumstances, but it was always extremely painful for the dedicated fans.
Peyton Manning. If he does get released by the Colts, we, as fans, must endure the pain and sorrow that will accompany the announcement. We must think with our brains, and not our hearts, and look forward to rebuilding this franchise into a leader again.
Lastly, we can only hope that wherever Peyton plays, it will be a team in the NFC. And maybe, just maybe, we may never have to face him as the opponent. I can honestly tell you, that if the Colts ever play against Manning, I will probably be rooting for his team. Sorry!
FB 03/04/2012
Deepest Respect for the Women of the World
As a man, I think that women are wonderful. They don’t think the way that we men do. Men tend to “shoot first”, and ask questions later. Patience. in most men, is NOT in our vocabulary. Women, on the other hand, are more analytical, usually more practical, and lean to be more thrifty.
Women bear the children of the world. Although sometimes hard to communicate with during pregnancy, they tend to have a sparkle in their eyes, and a glow that can’t be duplicated by any amount of makeup. They tolerate pain that men may endure one time, and then say “well, I’ll never do that again”. After bearing a child, and enjoying the miracle that only they can create, want to do it again. GOD bless them all.
BUT………..during child bearing years they must also endure the monthly curse. Men spend more time at work, drive the long way home, or frequent their favorite local watering hole, bar, or saloon. For at this time of the month, we don’t want irritate, agitate, or “Piss” them off.
If you don’t believe me, read the following letter to a manufacturer of feminine products:
Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your ‘Always’ maxi pads for over 20 years
and I appreciate many of their features. Why , without the LeakGuard
Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding
or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down
the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be
your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart
enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I
can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a
little F-16 in my pants.
Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? I’m guessing you
haven’t. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type,
I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body.
Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be
transformed into what my husband likes to call ‘an inbred hillbilly
with knife skills.’ Isn’t the human body amazing?
As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you’ve no doubt
seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your
customer’s monthly visits from ‘Aunt Flo’. Therefore, you must know
about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our
intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You
surely realize it’s a tough time for most women .
The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just
crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants… Which brings me to
the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping
so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I
opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing,
were these words: ‘Have a Happy Period.’
Are you f—— kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny
middle-manager brain really think happiness – actual smiling, laughing
happiness, is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything
mentioned above sound t he least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James?
FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M freak, there will never be
anything ‘happy’ about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on
Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t
march down to the local Walgreen’s armed with a hunting rifle and a
sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.
For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you have to slap a
moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say
something that’s actually pertinent, like ‘Put down the Hammer’ or
‘Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong’,
Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective
immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have
chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will
certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your
brand of condescending bullshit. And that’s a promise I will keep.
Always. .
Best, (authors name withheld)
As I said previously, women are pretty, lovable, and generally smarter then us guys, but don’t ever make one angry.
Hug your lady today and say “thanks”.
FB 03/03/2012
Speed Cameras
I’m not totally against them, but I wonder what the real reason is that they are being used. Are they installed to control speeding, or………just another way to squeeze money out of us.
If they are really used to control speeding, then why are they placed where they are? Wide dual lane divided highways in the middle of nowhere, designed by engineers to be safely traveled at 70MPH +, but are signed at 55. Single lane roads in rural areas, where the only thing to fear is an occasional deer, or maybe a fox, but are posted at 35MPH. Placed at the bottom of grades where you must brake to keep to the posted limit. And the placement that gets my goat, the mobile vehicular mounted cameras that are used in construction areas at night, when there are no workers there to protect. I never see them in the daylight, when workers are present. Hmmm….are you seeing what I see?
We all know that children shouldn’t be playing in the street. But they do. They’re kids. Ever see a speed camera on your city street? Ever see one in a school zone, hospital zone, or elderly community? I know of only two, and those communities demanded it. Most people driving in these congested areas realize that a child can dart into the street without warning. An elderly person can start across the street because they didn’t see or hear you. A door can be flung open into your lane by a parked car. Why aren’t these areas protected by speed cameras?
Why, you ask? Because the governmental agencies that place the cameras know that, by and large, we are more alert of dangerous situations driving in these areas. But, out on the open road, we tend to let our guard down. The government knows this. Hence, that’s where the cameras are. CLICK-FLASH-GOTCHA.
Our elected, and appointed, officials know that raising fees, taxes, and appraisals are extremely unpopular. “Red light cameras have generated a lot of revenue. Let’s add speed cameras too. A couple of thousand dollars to install. We will get that money back in 50 speeding tickets. After that……free money. The public won’t complain, because we are protecting them from speeders”.
And let’s be honest here. If speed cameras are installed on your normal routes to and from work, or school, or your favorite hang out, you already know their location. You saw the ditches dug, the concrete poured, and the crew installing them. We slow down to the speed limit, pass the camera, and accelerate up to our normal speed. No harm….no foul, right?
Just a few years ago, we controlled our speed simply because over the next hill, or around the next curve, a police officer may be sitting with radar, vascar, or a speed gun at the ready. We rarely see a speed trap anymore. I wonder what all those traffic cops are doing now? (I probably don’t want to know). And what happened to all that expensive equipment? Sitting somewhere collecting dust I suppose.
So…… you tell me……are speed cameras used to protect the traveling public, or are they just another way to collect revenue? Think about it.
GOD bless you all.
FB 02/26/12
Giggles, Laughter, and Tears
Today, I realized that my previous attempts at blogging may be too opinionated, cynical, and biased. I know that during the reading of my blog, some people have nodded their heads in agreement, while still others just got p*ssed off. In an effort to regain the readers that I once had, (and to show I’m not such a bad guy), I decided to throw some humor into it every once in a while.
The following story was related to me a few years ago, and I’d like to share it with you. I do not know the original author, but will gladly acknowledge him/her on this page.
Sit back, relax, and let your imagination run wild as you read this writing.
|
Last weekend I saw something at Larry’s Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was Valentine’s Day and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety….?? I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I’d get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in the other. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of body control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries. All the while I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5” long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, ‘no possible way!’ What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best…? I’m pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and a tingling in my legs. The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room. |
UnderThisOldMansHat 