Random thoughts

Three of our beautiful granddaughters were here over the weekend. I enjoy them when they are here and play games with them as much as I can. Johnnie Lynn is just short of three years old and has the magical thinking most kids have at that age. We will be riding in the truck and Johnnie will close her eyes and ask us if we can see her. We all play along that she is invisible and we can't find her. After a few seconds she will uncover her eyes and we act like we can see her again. She giggles and does it again and again and again. She will also sit on my lap and say: " Papa, close eyes." When I do she yells boo and I jump and she giggles. We do that over and over and over at least 50 times. Truth is I would do it 500 times if she wanted just to hear that laugh. Audrey, like me, is the middle child. She is very quiet when she meets someone new or is placed in an unfamiliar situation. People think she is shy but they are wrong. She stands back and watches how people interact before she jumps in. It is something her father has always done. Vannessa is nine and she specializes in knowing how to push everyones buttons. She will figure out what aggravates you and then find as many different ways to push that button as she can. Unfortunately for her I worked in a prison and a juvenile detention center for years so I constantly move the line where I am aggravated by her. She is having trouble determining how much she can get away with and has learned that pushing me over the line is not fun for her.

I spent part of today sorting through letters between my grandmother and my great grandparents while she was attending Knox College in the late 1920's and early 1930's. In addition there are family pictures I am scanning that date back to around 1910. I have been able to figure out who most of the people are but some I have no idea. I took about a hundred to my 81 year old mother and figured more out. It is sad to look at some of those photographs and know they are relatives but have no idea who they are. I just have to apologize to them in my head and put them back in the storage box. Please write on your photos so people know who is in the picture.

24 Hours

Yesterday at this time I had just finished watching an auction of some prime Illinois farm land. Most people at the auction thought the property sold a little low at $9,000 per acre. It was a price that was unimaginable a year or two ago. It once again underscores that highly productive ground brings a premium price. As the world population grows and cities eat up more land with urban sprawl a scarce commodity like land goes up in price.

In the afternoon I was looking at some old documents related to the farm where I grew up. It was sold in 1863 for $31.25 per acre. My, how times have changed. I also looked at old photographs dating back to the 1920's. I am saddened as I look at some of them. The people who took them knew the names of everyone in the picture, unfortunately I do not. Very few of the pictures are marked as to when, where and who. There are stories to be told but they died with those who took the pictures. It is sad. Please, if you have printed pictures take a minute to write on the back some information. If they are stored in electronic media then tag them in some manner.

Yesterday would have been my Dad's 83rd birthday. He died in 1999 at the age of 70 from lung cancer. Smoking for 50+ years had caught up with him. I will not preach on the issue of smoking. We all make choices about how we will live our lives. We all probably indulge one or more habits that may shorten our lives. My Dad was a plain spoken man. You didn't have to wonder what he was thinking because he would tell you. It has been 13 years and I still miss him. There are many days when I wish I had the opportunity to talk to him and seek his advice on a decision I need to make.

The final thing that happened was we got a call this morning that Carol's brother David had died early this morning. He had been very I'll since the first of the year. He had been released from the hospital and was receiving hospice care. David was only 57 years old but decades of alcohol, tobacco and substance abuse took their toll. His demons finally did him in but he is free from them now.

What will the next 24 hours bring?

BFE

Why live in BFE? I will be the first to admit that life out here in the middle of nowhere is at times a challenge. It was tough to build a house out here. Things you take for granted in town become major issues when you build out here. Water is not as easy as hooking into the main out front. We had to have a well drilled. The well ended up being 720 feet deep. The guy who drills the well does only that part. Now you need another person to come out and put a pump in the well and a pressure tank in the house. Then a plumber to put in the pipes and fixtures in the house. Next, well all that water has to go somewhere. Now a speptic tank and perk field. Leave out the plumber and the well and septic system cost us about $40,000. I am not complaining because yesterday on Facebook by daughter in law Mandie Burnett Sutor posted the following picture.

Mandie took that picture on Christmas morning 2011 looking from our house to the east.

This is a view from a little farther north looking east that I took about 6 years ago.

The same tree with a view in the winter of the same year.

A view of our house from the road on the same day.

So I could live in town and look at the house next door or I could take on the hardships of living in BFE. It seems to me the choice is simple and the hardships are far outweighed by the rewards of views in the pictures above. There is nothing better in the summer after a hard day than sitting on the front porch with a cold beer, your best friend you married 37 years ago and Candy the wonder dog. My life is better than I could have ever hoped or even dreamed.

Neighbors

We live out in the middle of nowhere. A place often in this area referred to as bum fuck egypt. It is a dead end road and we live a mile and a quarter from the intersection that will take you back to civilization. We are not the last house on the road, there are two another half mile past us. Both are currently empty. The one fartherest down was bought by a Lebanese family from Peoria who use it for hunting and a place to let their kids ride a four wheelers. John, the father, is a real character and I am sure he doesn't know any strangers. Over the course of the past couple of years we have become friends with them and visit back and forth when they are here or we go to Peoria. You never know how people are going to be and the first time we got invited down to have a meal we didn't take any beer. John mentioned something about it and said it was okay they were Christians. We let him know that not all Christians approved of alcohol consumption and we were trying to be polite. I have done some work helping John modernize the house, mowed the yard for him and given him a few loads of firewood. In the process I have stood back and watched how he and his family are treated from time to time. You meet someone who is clearly middle eastern based on appearance and accent and some folks assume Islamic. He has to put up with some nonsense that I don't because he is foreign and I think people just want to mess with him for that reason. He seems to just ignore it and go about his business. It is an attitude and behavior I would not have if I was in his position.
It makes me wonder about the "golden rule". Shouldn't we treat others in the manner in which we would want to be treated? What happened to good manners and civility? It seems like we have watched too much reality TV (which frankly does not appear real to me at all) and focused on the way to get things done is yell and fight. Being loud doesn't equal being right. A lie told loud and often is still a lie. Call me old fashioned and crazy. Target has two sets on entrance doors at the Galesburg store. One set opens automatically and the other set (oh my god) you have to reach out and use your arm to open. When we go to Target we go in that door. One reason is that I am not a cripple (yet). The second reason is that I want to hold the door open for my wife. It is not to make her feel subserviant it is to show my love and respect for her extends even to something that minor. I don't yell at people I think have done me wrong or curse at them. They don't make me angry. Why should they? When I give in to anger I have let them control me. They have made me do something and generally what they wanted was to make me angry. In my mind I do something far worse to them. I treat them with kindness. It is not what they expect and generally they do not know what to do with a kind word or deed. It goes back to doing unto others what you would want from them. One of the first times neighbor John was down he commented that we were good neighbors. My response was that you cannot expect to have good neighbors unless you are a good neighbor.

In closing I will add that I am not a religious person in the traditional sense but the following made sense to me and it was something I had wondered about. "Sometimes I would like to ask God why he allows poverty, suffering, and injustice when He could do something about it. But I'm afraid He would ask me the same question."

Nate

The young man in the picture is Nate Hawk. It is my privilege to call Nate a friend. I met Nate about two and a half years ago. His father Jim Hawk has done almost all my tattoos and Nate was going to be in Illinois for the summer. Nate lives in Presho, South Dakota. Jim wondered if I needed any summer help out on the farm and I told him I would give Nate a try. It is really hard to find a kid, and Nate is a kid, who is willing to do hard labor. Nate and I would be cutting down trees, cutting out brush, splitting big pieces of wood to make firewood and other work along those lines. Nate impressed me from day one. He was willing to do whatever work it was that I was doing that day and would give everything he did the best effort he had. When it got hot in July and early August Nate said it was no problem he was used to working in 100 degree heat in South Dakota. He had never worked in 95 degree heat in Illinois with 75% humidity and a heat index approaching 115 degrees. We were working one afternoon cutting up a tree we had felled in the morning and I noticed Nate was nowhere in sight. When he reappeared a few minutes later I asked him where he had gone. He told me he had gotten overheated and had gone over in the woods a little was to puke. I offered to quit for the day but he said he was okay now. It was, however, the last time we went to McDonald's for lunch. He still won't eat there. The thing you need to know about Nate is that he has some limitations. He is not the brightest kid you are ever going to meet. He has ADHD and can be really annoying to some people. The most important thing you need to know about Nate is that he has a good heart. He is willing to help out with any project you have. He can fix things. When I break something I have to take it somewhere to be fixed. When Nate is around he looks at whatever it is I broke, figures out how to take it apart, fix the broken piece and put it back together. I look at a pile of parts and see a pile of parts. Nate looks at the same pile of parts and sees a lawnmower engine. So Nate has a gift, it is the ability to fix things. I can read a book and recall facts about events that happened a hundred years ago but fixing broken stuff is just not an ability I have. If you need something broken I can usually accomplish that task.
Nate chatters a lot about all sorts of things but most often it is about girls. Many people find him annoying for that reason. Come on folks, he is 18 years old. When you are 18 it is all about girls. You want to figure out the mystery that is the female of the species. So I let Nate talk and I listen. I never call Nate names or tell him he is stupid. There seem to be plenty of people in his life who are willing to do that to him. He carries on about girls and cars and holly double pumper carbs and mickey thompson something or others and I listen. After he talks about cars for a while he will often say, "You have no idea what I am talking about do you." I admit I don't but he enjoys telling the story. Isn't that what all of us are looking for? We want to tell our story and we want to have someone listen, even if they don't understand.
This past Spring Carol and I drove up to Presho, South Dakota to see Nate graduate from high school. It was about a 500 mile trip one way to watch an hour ceremony. Why did we go? Nate asked us. He is a good kid and everyone needs someone to say, "You matter to us and we are proud of your accomplishment."
The bottom line really is sometimes you have to look past the surface. Past the obvious. What is inside is what really counts the most and if more of us had the good heart Nate has the world would be a better place.

Cooking

Your first reaction should be something like: "What the fuck was he thinking?" In what universe does that look good? It just goes to show you that the DILLIGAF title of this blog is correct. I was going to cook the family Chinese and they had bought me some cooking clothes. By golly I was going to wear them for the family. 
When you retire you have to think of things to do for that eight or nine hours every day you went off to do that thing you did. In the Spring, Summer and Fall I have plenty of  outdoors work to do. Winter, well that is another story. I am not a big fan of working out in cold weather. I can, I just don't like it. Some guys want to cut firewood in the winter. I want to cut it  in the other three seasons and sit by the fireplace in the winter. Well to fill some of those winter hours I have offered to take over the cooking duties at home. Carol is happy to go to her quilt room in the basement and cut fabric and sew all day. I have no problem grabbing a cook book and trying to make something. Today's experiment in culinary mastery was home made pasta. Carol had gotten me a Kitchen Aide stand mixer earlier this year and noted the other day that the pasta making attachment had never been used. I am normally oblivious to hints note the famous gas conversation of years past. Carol: "The price of gas is $2.55 per gallon." Jeff: "I see that." Carol when we get home says: "Why didn't you buy gas? I told you it was $2.55 a gallon." Jeff: "I am a man. I need direct communication. When a man wants to buy gas and his wife is driving he says something direct like, let's stop and fill the gas tank." It has taken many years but now I understand when she says things like that. So today I got out the pasta maker and the recipe book and did my best to figure out how to make pasta. The main lesson learned was when the book says 4 large eggs (7/8 of a cup) that you ignore the 4 large egg part and crack enough eggs to get 7/8 of a cup. The second thing I learned was that you need to put the pasta maker on the mixer according to the box instructions. It is really not possible to make pasta when the mechanism is  spinning around like a top.  Once those problems were overcome I managed to make some decent pasta and get it cut into spaghetti strands. Fresh pasta is nothing like the dried pasta you buy at the store. It cooked in boiling water in about 3 minutes. It was light and mild and to my surprise quite tasty. My next attempt will include making home made meatballs and my own sauce.
So my advice. If you are looking for something to do and you are a bit bored, take a cooking class or two. I am up to five and have enjoyed them all. Get in the kitchen and make something good for lunch or supper. If it ends up in complete failure there is always a McDonald's close by. That is of course if you want to call that crap they serve food.
On a final note, when someone wants to take your picture go for the gold medal. You may just be able to use it in a blog 20 years or so later.

Cars

Somehow you always remember the first car you ever bought. Ours was this classic 1970 Opel Kadet Station Wagon. It featured an 1100 CC in line 4 cylinder engine and had a four speed transmission. Just to give you an idea of its stunning lack of horsepower my current Harley Davidson motorcycle features a twin cyliner 1470 CC motor. We bought the Opel used in 1974 for less than $1500.00 and drove it until 1978. It hauled my ass back and forth between Galesburg and Macomb for 2 years while I finished my studies at Western Illinois University. If it had not been for the great gas mileage and the dependability of that car I would never have been able to finish college.  It is not one of those cars that you ever see at a car show. No Barrett-Jackson auction has bidders in a frenzy to buy one. Oh, but dear God I would love to have another one in the condition shown in this picture.
I thought the young lady standing next to the car was pretty special too. Yes dear reader it is the current Mrs. Sutor about 6 months before we got married. When we picked up the car at the dealer she had to drive it back to her parents house. She had never driven a manual transmission car and her options that day were a 1966 Ford Falcon with a three speed on the tree or the Opel with a four on the floor. She took the four speed and did a great job until we got to the four way stop sign at Losey and Hawkinson. Of course there were cars at all 4 stop signs and a line at each one. She did her best to try to wait for everyone else to leave but the traffic would not cooperate. She did the most excellent bunny hops as she went through the intersection. I was in the car behind her laughing so hard that I couldn't drive. She was a good sport about it when we got to her  parents house. A few driving lessons from me out in the country and she has been able to drive a manual transmission ever since. A skill that is sadly lacking in today's youth. Don't want your car stolen?  Buy something with a clutch and I guarantee 99%  of kids under 30 couldn't drive off with it if you left the keys in it.
Well, there were two of my loves in that picture. I am thrilled I still have one with me and have fond memories of the little red wagon.

War- What is it Good For? Absolutely Nothing

Dwight D. Eisenhower, I don't think anyone would say he was soft on war, or on the very real military threats he faced as President. I would put forth the argument that based on the rhetoric of our current Republican presidential candidates and the war cries of their conservative base that today Mr. Eisenhower would be unelectable. We have been so willing to sacrifice some of our freedoms and principles to fight the war on terror. Our ongoing detainment of "enemy combatants" in Cuba is in violation of those principles and our law. Are we so afraid of terrorists that we are willing to sacrifice freedom to prevent another attack? How much freedom sacrificed on the altar of safety will it take before we say enough? How many of our young men and women will be lose on the battlefield of war before we decide the cost is too high? How many widowed wives? How many orphaned children? We go in with no plan for victory and no clue how to withdraw. We build aircraft carriers, bombers, submarines and other military hardware to fight an enemy that no longer exists. While the Republican candidates will argue on one hand the government doesn't create jobs, they argue on the other hand that there would be too many jobs lost if we cut defense spending. Last time I  checked that was money spent and jobs created by the government. Eisenhower was right we are spending the sweat of our laborers, the genius of our scientists and the hopes of our children. So much could be done to alleviate the problems of the world with the money we waste on unnecessary military spending. Yes we need to be able to defend ourselves but the current level of spending is obscene.  The world might need less guns and bombs if the poor were fed, clothed and given basic medical care. The government throws around the cost of the last two wars as about $800,000,000,000. How much good could we have done with that? Many articles I have read place the actual cost at closer to 3,500,000,000,000. The cost in terms of human suffering is incalculable.  We can and should know and do better.

Winter Cleaning

It is one of those days on the frozen tundra of western Illinois. The required outdoor duties have been completed. You know, shoveling snow off the walk and running the snowblower on the driveway. It was time to do some rearranging. Setting up a little office space in one of the spare bedrooms. A place to pay bills and scan pictures onto the computer. I ran across some pictures we had taken on our last cruise. I wanted to hang one above my desk just to remind myself of a couple things. First, that there are places in the world that are warm in February. Second, that Carol looks really good in those pictures and I never get tired of looking at her. The picture frames I was planning on using didn't have that little saw toothed hanger thing on the back. I went to look for one in what I call my pieces and parts inventory. You know all those little nails and screws and bolts and stuff that are left over from projects. You know the rest of that story, I have every fastener known to man except the one I need. Shit, fuck, damn!!! In looking for that I found something more important and a story I want to share.
I found the little funeral paper they hand you at a funeral telling you the order of the services, the minister and the pallbearers. The gentleman who had passes was Homer R. Hurt and I had the honor of being one of the pallbearers. Homer was born on October 27, 1905 and passed away on June 17, 1998. When I was growing up Homer worked for my father and grandfather as a hired man. When you are 13 or 14 growing up on the farm you think the world is yours and you can out work an old man. So when I was 13 Homer was 62. I remember starting working in the morning thinking this old guy can't keep up with me. The day started with all us young men going like a house on fire. Homer had one speed and it looked slow. By noon all of us young fellas were spent. Homer's steady pace had pulled him even with us. No problem, a lunch break will give us our second wind and we will show that old man. It was one of those June days in Illinois when the temperature and humidity are both in the 90's. There was no second wind. Homer went back out after lunch and resumed the pace he had set first thing in the morning. We struggled to keep up. We fell behind. We fell way behind. We quit. When he quit for the day, about 3 hours after us he was still working at the same pace. He had done more than us by an embarrassing amount. Lesson one from Homer. Slow and steady wins the race. Another lesson learned along the way was to do everything you do as well as you can. It was like his lesson on working fast, he didn't say it he just lived it. When you got done at the end of the day you could look back and see the job was done well. You didn't need anyone to say so. Homer never talked much and when he did he spoke softly. He spoke with deeds not with words. I remember driving by Hope Cemetery in Galesburg in the 1980's and seeing Homer taking out all the shrubs that had grown up in the fences. Typical of Homer all the work was done by hand. I drive by now and remember it looks like it does because of his efforts. He was in his late 70's or early 80's when that work was done. There are people in your life who make you who you are. Homer had a profound influence on my life. We could all learn a little something from him. Kids don't want us to tell them how to live, they want us to show them. They are more likely to watch what we do then they are to listen to what we say. Thank you Homer.

Retirement

I am retired after working over 30 years with juvenile delinquents and adult male felons. Do I miss it? There are days especially during the winter when daytime television takes a toll on my intellectual abilities. Really, The View, The Talk, The Chew, Ellen, Dr. Phil, Judge Judy make me want to look for a gun. There were days at work where I had 10 people reporting to me most of them college educated and I wondered how they found their way to work. Then there would be weeks where their work performance was amazing. There were days with a hundred things happening at once and I could not have moved faster if my hair was on fire. Do I miss those days? Truthfully those are the ones I miss the most. You get addicted to the adrenaline rush. The end of the day shows up and it feels like you got to work five minutes ago. I will always miss that feeling. The only other thing I miss about work is the sound of the doors closing. There is nothing like the sound of a steel door slamming into a steel frame.
Why all the reminiscing? Yesterday it was 55 degrees here and the sun was shining. It was one of those days you are not allowed to have in Illinois in January. Today it is 18 degrees and it has snowed about 4 inches and the wind is blowing 25+ miles per hour. It is our first real snow and cold this winter. There are people who have been complaining because it hasn't been wintery yet. Where's the snow? Why hasn't it gotten cold yet? Where is winter? I hope you assholes are happy. Winter is here. All I can say to you and winter is FUCK YOU! I look out the window at the snow blowing and drifting and think that maybe Judge Judy and friends aren't so bad. I'm not in Florida, Mike, but I don't have to go out. Retirement is AWESOME!

Paper

Paper! Weren't computers going to make us a paperless society.  We would trade electrons and bits and bytes rather than scraps of trees. We stopped at the mailbox today and picked up all our "junk mail" and marveled at the shit we got. Open a magazine and the subscription renewal cards just start to rain out. Seems like you can't go more than four or five pages before you are dealing with another card asking you to subscribe or renew your subscription. Ok TV has given us short attention spans but damn 10 of those cards in a 60 page magazine. Sure hope they were paid by the piece for inserting them in the pages. The magazine is done and now it is time for  the daily credit card offers. Today was apparently super jackpot day as PNC, Citibank and Bank of America blessed us with offers.  The best offers are the ones that say "you are preapproved to apply".  What the fuck does that mean? Are some people sent offers and they are predenied?  Preapproved to apply means absolutely nothing. I do appreciate the postage paid envelopes they include in their offers as today they provide an outlet for my frustration. All the subscription cards from the magazines are going to be placed in the credit card company postage paid envelopes and sent to those fine folks. Someone there must quilt and may want to get a subscription to Quilt magazine or Quilters Newsletter.  Citibank, PNC and Bank of America- thank you for the postage and you are welcome to my excess paper.

Recovery

I miss George /Carlin. He always had a way of stating the obvious things in life that never seem to occur to the rest of us.

I went to the Doctor today. It would be better to call Dr. Schierer a miracle worker. The miracle isn't done yet but the recovery is well under way. On June 20, 2011 I decided that it was too wet for Nate and I to do our normal lumber jacking work.  Carol had wanted me to build a couple of racks for the many bottles of wine we were storing in the basement.  I went down to the neighbors and retrieved my ladder. It was still sprinkling a bit but I thought it was no big deal because I was going to be in the garage working. I brought the ladder in and set it up to get the wood I needed down from the attic space. I could reach what I needed from the ladder so I did not go up in the attic space. After dropping several pieces of wood down on the garage floor I felt the ladder slip just a touch. It was probably less that one inch. That little slip caused me to flinch and when I did the bottom of the ladder began to slip out and I sped toward the floor. I remember thinking on the way down that it was no big deal I had fallen about the same distance a few weeks before without serious consequences. The landing on the floor was solid and I initially thought it wasn't too bad. I went to get up off the floor and realized that I could not move my left arm. I went into the house and told Carol that I needed to go to the hospital.  The emergency room doctor determined that I had dislocated my shoulder and said he would try to put it back in place. He said try because I am a big fella and he was not. After getting plenty of drugs in me he made a couple of  unsuccessful attempts to put my shoulder back together. At that point Dr. Schierer was called in and later in the afternoon they put me under and got my shoulder back in place. A week later I started physical therapy with Megan who is affectionately known as the mangler. It takes a special person to be a physical therapist. You must be willing to hurt people to make them better. Megan and I worked together for 2 months and my condition got worse. Dr. Schierer ordered an MRI. The results indicated that I had torn my rotator cuff. Surgery was scheduled and took place on August 30,2011. After 10 days the staples came out and it was time to go back and see Megan the Mangler. When I began therapy in early July I thought Megan had hurt me about as badly as possible. September would show how wrong I was. She would ask how much pain I could take and my only response was: "When I piss myself  you have gone too far."  She never quite got there but it was close a few times. I had my last session with her on Friday.  Today Dr. Schierer told me to do the remainder of my therapy at home and he would only schedule more if I stopped making progress. My shoulder isn't 100% yet but I did not expect that yet. Dr. Schierer advised me today that I should expect full recovery to take about a year. I am willing to live with that because without the expertise of Megan and Dr.Schierer I would have a useless left arm.  I will forever be grateful to both of them.

Things have changed a bit here. Carol won't let me get on any ladders. I am not anxious to do so anyway. The next time I do climb one there will be a spotter at the bottom.

So Mr. Carlin I know how the below average feel. Climbing a ladder and getting a few pieces of lumber seemed like such a simple task. I couldn't manage to get it done. I am reminded every time someone asks about my arm and I have to say I fell off a ladder. It is not a skill you want on your resume.

Conservative?

I look at the political primary process today and I am reminded of Richard Nixon's comments about the "silent majority". Our current political process shows how the silent majority has abdicated their responsibility to participate in the election process. I ranted the other day about what a poor group of candidates the Republican party was putting forward for this election. When you really consider why they are such pieces of shit you can look at the following. About 20% of the population is conservative and about 20% of the population is liberal in their respective political beliefs. In my mind that leaves about 59% of the population in the middle (Nixon's silent majority) and 1% who are just fucking crazy in their political beliefs. If you want to be the Republican nominee for any office you must tailor your message to this 20% who are the most conservative and therefore the most likely to vote in the primary. On primary day the silent majority does not want to declare a political party so they generally stay home. While they look at who is running and say I wouldn't vote for any of those assholes. The same thing happens on the liberal side. When the general election rolls around the silent majority holds its collective nose and chooses the lesser of two evils. They seem not to realize that the lesser of two evils is still evil. The result of moderates failing to participate in the primary voting process is there are no moderate candidates to vote for in the general election. Those elected are from the extremes of their respective parties. It makes compromise difficult if not impossible.

I offer you the following quote.
"Mark my words,if and when these preachers get control of the [Republican] party, and they're sure trying to do so, it's going to be a terrible damn problem. Frankly, these people frighten me. Politics and governing demand compromise. But these Christians believe they are acting in the name of God, so they can't and won't compromise. I know, I've tried to deal with them."
Barry Goldwater

They didn't come much more conservative than Barry but he was willing to compromise and do what was right for the country. Christian conservatives are now the strongest voting block in the Republican party. They cannot compromise because they are voting based on their beliefs. They are obsessed with the unborn. Abortion for any reason is wrong but if you get born you shouldn't need food stamps or welfare or preschool programs. Those things contribute to the deficit. If you grow up to be a bad criminal we believe in the death penalty. There are limits to their view that life is sacred.
So don't look for the upcoming election to change anything. Gridlock will continue no matter who wins the White House.

I got nothing

I got nothing today. I lay in bed at night trying to go to sleep. There will be a hundred ideas flying around in my head. I think one of them will make a great blog and I concentrate on remembering it for the next morning. I wake up and it is gone. Driving in the car, great idea for blog. Get where I am going and go to joy a quick note so I remember later. SHIT! FUCK! DAMN! It's gone again. Where do those ideas go? Why can't I remember any of them? I pick up my iPad and go to blog and my head is empty. I feel like the window licking kid on the short bus headed for that special class at school. Unqualified for any job that requires anything to be remembered. I am not even qualified for what I think is the worst job in the world. I could not be a WalMart greeter. They must say it a hundreds of times a day. "Welcome to WalMart". They seem so sincere and happy to say it. I might be able to remember the words but I could not feign the sincerity or happiness for more than a couple of minutes. Wouldn't a normal human being have to say something like: "Did you look in the mirror before you left home? Has anyone ever told you that was a good look for you? Wow, that is one ugly fucking kid! Did you have sex with a farm animal?" I think at that point I am a former WalMart greeter. So today I blog but I got nothing. Maybe I need to start writing stuff down. Start carrying a little tape recorder.

The end of the world

I have followed with some interest the political theater that is the Iowa caucuses. It appears to me (as a lifelong republican) that Iowa republicans want someone other than Mitt Romney. They kept finding others to lead the pack like Michelle Bachmann, Rick Perry, Herman Cain, Ron Paul, Newt Gingrich and Rick Santorum. it appears that they held their noses last night and took a big bite of the Romney shit sandwich they were offered. I look at this field of candidates and wonder. Is this the best America has to offer? I was asked by one of my brother in laws what I thought of the Republican candidates. He did not seem to enjoy my views on each of them.

Mitt Romney- it seems like he has been running for president for the last 6 years. He seems too willing to stick his finger in the air to see which way the wind is blowing and then take whatever position he thinks the public wants to hear. He was pro choice now he is pro life. He wanted to mandate health insurance coverage now he doesn't. I watched Reverand Al Sharpton on TV the other day and he kept referring to Mr. Romney by his real first name Willard. Go by your birth name Willard.

Newt Gingrich- ethics violations while he was in Congress. He cheated on both of his ex-wives. Sorry folks it is a question of character for me. You stand in front of God and your friends and swear to love this person for the rest of your life forsaking ALL others. If you will lie to your wife, your God and your friends why should I think you will be honest with me.

Michelle Bachmann- the bitch is nuts. Don't go all, he's being sexist on me. If she was a dude she would be a crazy bastard. Being gay is not a choice. If you are straight then tell me when you decided that. Gay people don't need to be fixed they need to be accepted. I would think the anti abortion folks would love gays. What group is less likely to get an abortion?

Ron Paul- crazy little fucker. He doesn't care if Iran has a nuclear weapon. Let's go back on the gold standard. Legalize drugs, well maybe he's on to something there.

Rick Perry- reminds me of George W. Bush only not quite as smart. We don't need another retarded president.

Rick Santorum- well if you haven't yet just google Santorum. I rest my case.

If these are my choices on primary day I think I will just stay home.

Ranting like a lunatic

I wondered when I was younger why old people seemed to be pissed off most of the time. I'm old now and I think I know.
Why do stupid people talk really loud and talk about things we don't want to know? We were at a hospital in Lexington, Kentucky over the weekend because one of my brother in laws is in critical condition. There was a young redneck female in the waiting room. I say young because one of the many things I learned about her was that she is 26 years old and pregnant with her third child. Her husband or significant other is "a Mexican from Mexico". I was momentarily confused as I tried to figure out where else a Mexican could be from. I also learned that they are not all short and dark, that some have blue eyes or green eyes and have light skin. She must have repeated that at least 15 times in an hour. She was also quick to let us know that she didn't have her first baby until she was 20 years old. Her family standard is apparently 15 or 16 according to her so she is the virtuous one in her sibling group. After about two minutes of her nonsensical squeaking all I wanted her to do was SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Why do old people insist on driving. When you can't turn the steering wheel and can't see where you are going it is time to stop driving. If you live in southern Indiana and it snows at all you should be required by law to stay home. If you shuffle to your car using your walker and have to use your arms to lift your legs into the car you should be in the passenger seat.
So why are old people angry? First, because young people are loud and stupid. Second, body parts that used to be dependable aren't any longer and sometimes require Depends. Finally, because driving used to be easy and they know they suck at it now but their need for independence will not allow them to give it up. So tonight I will go out and stare at the sky hoping for that giant asteroid that will send us the way of the dinosaurs.