Eight days a week….

    Discalimer: after reding this blog you think you need to form some kind of CrazyAssedIntervention for me, you need to step back have a cold one and take this for what it is.

      I did not have a ton of road time this week, so this may have a slight twist of haste. Thinking through a blog is a lot of work. Hard work. The stars have to align, the mood must strike, and the blogmuse must send the blog to me. The blogmuse has been sending me ideas, however they have not been completely usable to the high standard that my blog should be In any event, here goes anyway.

     When one considers all the euphemisms that are used to rename the days of the week I have yet to see one that completely encompasses my third favorite pastime. I will have to rectify that situation, but it might not be pretty.

     My first favorite pastime is slacking/blogging, the second is cooking/IM2BBQ and the third is quaffing a beverage of the DaddyPop or adult beverage variety. It is the trifecta of time spending when I can accomplish all three. Now that I am mobilsaavy, I can accomplish all three…now that’s what I call multitasking… I will prolly never accomplish that 'cuz it REALLY seems like a lot of work...

Work is the end result of not finding some one else to accomplish what you want done.

    

MONDAY….

    I thought about Madcap Monday. I thought about Muddle thru Monday, but I settled on MORE BEER MONDAY. If the day is a Case of the Monday’s type of day, a couple of beers or Crown and Cokes just will not dull the savage pain of a bad Monday. Have a few MORE. Yup, it is MORE BEER MONDAY.

Any night the Tigers are on may play into your conspicuousconsumption…

TUESDAY….
     Twofer Tuesday is the first thought that probably comes to mind, however it is as overplayed as a mean Hollywood prom queen. I can do better than that. Maybe not much better but not so overplayed. Tequila Tuesday? Two kegs Tuesday? I decided that I really should not induce tequila into anyone’s week this early, so nix that idea…I decided on TRIPLE SHOT TUESDAY... drink tequila at your own risk!

The Pistons may contribute to alcohol abuse…

WEDNESDAY…

     I really hate the expression Hump Day. As a guy it does make me giggle in my mind, cuz of sexual overtones but seriously, that is not the actual intention, is it? Why not just call it horny dog day, or to rid this phrase of sexual overtones, half-way day, . Something must be done and I am just the guy to do it. I introduce to you WET YOUR WHISTLE WEDNESDAY…discretion needed, or not…you decide…

The WINGS win more than lose so many a celebration may ensue…

    

     There are really eight days a week. In the time/space continuum, there is a hidden day. I know it is there, but it is like leap year, it does not occur all the time. It only happens when there are Monday holidays involved. We’ve all been there. This explains the unnerving and perplexing what day is it? phenomenon after a three day binge weekend. This day is known as WUSSYDRINK WHAT DAY…I stay sober on this day… I hate wussydrinks…

     If you do not believe in ghosts you should start. There is one that lives in our garage. I hit the off button on Sheila every night, she goes dark and EVERY morning she is lit up and on again. I even unplug her power cord. I know what you are thinking…aliens…or your a weirdo. Not so much. And if you are thinking drunkard…resounding NO as well. GHOSTS…jus sayin’

I am sure this is a ghost. I do not remember using the camera or taking this picture. Ghosts love to be filmed. They often take pics of themselves, when you are not looking or paying attention. Fair warning to all of you…They do exist!




 THURSDAY…

     This one is so easy even a kindergartner could figure this out. I know it is also Mancave Thursday for some of us, and that ties in nicely with the event. I We will now refer to this day as THIRSTY THURSDAY.

Any night that is a guy’s night deserves the proper imbibery… Ladies nights as well...

FRIDAY…
    There is only one choice. FREE BEER FRIDAY. There were a few rules to this particular day. Way back during the nieghborstaupo days at the Three Mile Island (thanks CB)/ Forrest Hills house, I attempted a simple gathering of the beer drinking brethren. The concept was simple:

1. Bring some beer (each participant brings 3-6 beers)
2. Make it f-ing good beer (no Natty, MGD, Buttlite or such)
3. Put it in a cooler.
4. Drink the other guys beer, not your own.
5. You did not buy it hence it is free (to You)
     This GREAT idea in theory meant the guys would sit/stand around talking trash and drinking beer and the ladies could join as well, if they brought beer to participate could sit around and drink wine on the deck/ porch. Talking up or down, their particular man. It never took off. Not for lack of trying.FREE BEER FRIDAY… it is not for everyone…

Tip ‘em back, and have a good time…

SATURDAY…

     How do you follow up a great name like Friday’s new moniker? Follow it up with more genius. Hence, the new name for Saturday is SUCK ‘EM DOWN SATURDAY. No driving, when you’re drinking… Nothing more need be said…

Drinking until puking is NOT allowed…that kind of drinking is for amateurs…

SUNDAY…

     After your communion wine, which I have heard is no longer REAL wine, because of certain alcohol related issues; it really is time to slow down. Gotta have a day of rest. Can’t get blotto every day. Slow down on SLOW DOWN SUNDAY…unless an IM2BBQ just happens to present itself. Still moderation is the key to life…lets try to keep it safe…I suggest you stick with wine…and limit the number…Do what you do…but do it responsibly…unless you are watching read: napping the Lions…

Randomness from a fractured reality…

Readers poll on a subject to be written on a future Blog. Deadline for entries is Aug 10, 2010, I will write the blog while I am on my fishing/slacking Vacation in Minnesota…I will give credit to the winner. Winner will be chosen by random drawing. Eligibility for drawing simply leave a comment include you name *JIM* here are some ideas for you to pick from. Your own are welcome as well…

     I cleaned out my Mind’s Eye Imaging Device this weekend. I was amazed at the stuff that was in there. Tucker chewed the mind meld cable a bit so the picture quality is a bit sketchy. I tried to edit it with photo shop, but then remembered I do not have that program.

     The best of these pics only usable was a truck with a tree at the Breton Village D & W…

 I guess that the person driving the truck imagines themselves to be pretty green…I think I hate them…

I had a bunch of ideas floating around for bloggingness, but they all where so random that I thought there was nothing better to do with them but put together a blog of random thoughts… I hate it when a bloggering idea is stillborn…

The front seat of my truck is merely a place to set files and PM books and other office paraphernalia. Unless I am taking the TuckMonster to some random destination or the lake there is really no where to sit but on my lap. That can kind of impede my driving so that is not gonna fly… Back when I lived in the van a removed the passenger seat and built a storage bench and it became known as the Busker bench.

     If I am not working it is a Tucker Seat. Sticks, rope, toys, balls, and whatever else he carries back to the truck that he picks up when I am not looking, are all part of the Tucker seat. Oh yeah and dog hair...lots of dog hair....

     Cup holders are merely places to store stuff until you need to put a drink in there. Then you have to find new places to put that stuff so the drink does not spill. Crotching the drink is usually a better option unless it is Mc Donald’s coffee. That stuff is too hot. And that greedy idiot that spilled coffee on herself all those years ago kinds ruined the LawsuitFreeLunch  for the rest of us…Jus’ sayin’

     So let me ask you this…When you are driving do you ever pull out in front of someone just to see if they will stop. Hey, they ARE gonna slow down, stop, OR NOT…It is kinda like a bizarre game of RoadRageRoulette. So far they all have stopped, but I will eventually find someone crazier than I am, or paying even less attention than a deaf guy with a bullhorn next to his ear. They will probably be texting, but be the kid of some local prostitican and get a free pass, while they find a way to send the used-to-be-long hair to jail.

     Beer can be cooled to the proper drinking temperature in 10 minutes in the proper ice bath. I have done extensive research on this particular subject and the perfect ratio is 12 cubes to every 3.47 ounces of cool tap water. The control group used EGR tap water, and it comes from the tap a frigid 57.86 degrees Fahrenheit. The ice cubes were standard issue circa 1980 ice-machine variety.

     The older I get the more I find distaste for young parents and their ill-conceived cretins. It seems that parenting is a lost art. I blame psychologists and that Dr. Spock guy. And that is why I do not trust anyone with pointy ears.

     I have killed a lot of plants in my day. Most were unintentional. Who needs moisture meters? A pinky works just fine. Eyes work fine as well. If the dirt is hard and the plant is all brown and shit, it probably needed water. It is probably too late. As a side bar, I have been involved in owing a landscaping as a business twice. Hence, the reason I am in Carpentry now. The plants (read: trees) I touch now are dead by the time I touch them.

     Day five with a smart phone and the training is not going well. It has sit and stay down pat, but I cannot seem to get it to make toast, coffee, or for the love of God a good Benedict sauce. (Try the Cherie Inn; they have a great Benedict Sauce). It is not very good at fetching either. Maybe I will try to not have it fetch around water next time, as phone and water are a bad combination, but I am not very hopeful. someone needs to invent an underwater cell phone. Hey, they already have watches that can do that.. 

     And, for some reason my phone has yet to learn to tell me that I missed a call. Don’t even get me started on reading the instructions. First, I do not EVER read instructions and "B", the book is all f’d up anyway. It seems like I only got the Spanish version…

     And WTF is up with having to enter a PIN number (Don’t you hate when some mouth breather calls it a pin number…) I gotta say that is like the most Absofuckinglutely dipshitacular idea ever.

     Jim Rome is back from a two week vacation. I did not miss him. A few days ago he was talking about a MMA (mixed Martial Arts) cage bed for kids. I find this idea disturbing. Most likely ‘cuz I simply find Jim Rome to be second only to the Hugeicrite in annoyingassity. But hey, it takes a lot of idiots to make me look not quite so stupid... 

     And I guess there is an adult version of this bed. He talked about bringing a girl back to his crib…yes, he said crib…overplayed like any American Idol winners first song…and showing her the MMA cage bed… He dropped this line…”Hey babe, this is where the magic happens.” Thank God I had an empty stomach, because I would have lost a couple gas station hotdogs fer shure…

http://www.wermma.com/kids-throwdown-cage-bed.html

OMG! It really does exist!!!

    

There ought to be a law against EVER saying this is where the magic happens…men everywhere should be appalled. If you say something as lame as that, you are probably saying it to a picture of a girl on a porn site.Not that I have ever seen such a thing, but I have heard that porn sites do exist…

     Deck designs 101…make the railing a good place for setting a DaddyPop. (Courtesy M. Jetzer) these three pics below are here to assist and may help you to figure this out to your advantage. If your railing is non-conducive to DaddyPop setting, serious remodeling should occur.

ev'rybody have fun tonight!!

ev'rbody wang chug chung tonight!

And in closing, I heard this gem today. Babies stay free at Super 8 motel…SERIOUSLY??? Yup!  You mean there are hotels that charge extra for Babies? Really? Now I can die in peace, knowing that at least at the Super 8 motel, my babies are welcome.

    

Good and smart…

     So, I can finally do all the things that I ever wanted to from my phone. Well, not so much. I can barely text with it and god knows what kind of juxtapositions is required to actually place a call. I have had this smart phone for about 60 hours. I have received about 4 calls. Usually I get around fifty calls per day. Well, who knows, I am really not very important, but my phone seems to ring a lot. I just pulled the number outamyass from You-Know-Where.

     Technology is moving quite fast. Somewhere in the supersonic age we have seemed to substitute smart for good. My GPS, Game Plan Sucks Sheila, while a good invention, is not very smart. She does not learn that I will get lost, or decide after a couple of trips to a particular destination that I have found a better way to go. Better for me, is not the same as most people, cuz I still rely on landmarks and other keys EVEN with a GPS…good does not equal smart.

     There is a difference between smart and good. Ideas are no different. A smart idea is not always good idea. Firstly, smart and good while a like in many ways, are spelled TOTALLY different than each other. nmathematically they are VERY different. I have done the hard math for you. It is very complicated, but I will break it down for you.

     Okay. There it is. Easy for cheesy, and it is OBVIOUS the two do not equal each other. But for you genius rocket science level math wiz’s, you may try to refute my findings. Good luck. It is published on the interweb thingy, so it must be true…I published it first...Jus Sayin’

     I have often wondered where the boat is when you see a truck and boat trailer on the side of the road. The SMART money is probably on the fact that the boat is in the water, somewhere and they are just bringing the trailer back to store it. It would NOT be GOOD if they had lost it and just now decided to look in the rear view and noticed the boat went missing. Not so SMART either...

     Why is it that there is ALWAYS a bag of trash in the McDonalds parking lot, from some jackass that just finished a meal in the car? It is not like there are not 15000 trash cans at a typical Mickey D’s…Not GOOD and NOT SMART! And what is up with seeing one shoe on the side of the road? Are there really that many one legged people throwing the other one away?

     I really question the whole idea of a pair of undies on the side of the road. Very scary. Hey, I get the whole idea of free-ball-Fridays, but seriously. That many people going commando is not a GOOD thing. And for some it is not very SMART either…

     I am also sick of anything that says it is GREEN! When something gets overplayed just like EVERY f-ing DOORS song ever written and that ridiculous Afternoon Delight song from our misguided youth, it gets tiresome. BTW, Mo Jo, fire should not be rhymed with fire… Pyre and fire okay, but fire rhymed with fire = stupiditiness.

     Hey, do not get me wrong, we should be more environmentally responsible, but really? So many green things YET so little GOOD and SMART. The ridonkulousity of this trey chic catch phrase marketing is the “Where’s the Beef?” of this decade…

     And just so you know here are some things that are not GOOD it they are green:

• Teeth
• Food that the primary color is not green
• That container of some kind of science experiment left in the ‘fridge for god knows how long
• Avocado appliances. For some reason they are making a comeback. But I guess it is better than harvest gold…
• Snot.
• Blobs in your new bucket of drywall mud
• Those oopsmissedthemouth fries under the seat of the truck
• Beer when it is not St. Patty’s Day
• Apples that Tucker likes to pick up on our morning walks.
• Jeans. (Apologies to Kaptain. Kangaroo, but seriously)
• Tomatoes, fried or otherwise
• Tea
• Skin see your doctor
• Ham (eggs are okay, but green ham…not good)

     So, anyway, I got a smart phone. I was wondering just how smart it is.

     I asked it some questions. I got not so many answers. The other day I was washing off a driveway. I had some diluted muratic acid to clean some rust and stuff off the slab. I needed to get about fifteen more feet than I had linkable hose. I asked my phone what to do. I got NOTHING! Zero. Zip. Nadda. Thankfully, I AM smart S-M-R-T! d’oh…Gratuitous Homer reference!

I got no replies. It sat there and looked like a phone.

BTW, both of the hoses were colored green.

 As this awesome Mind's eye shot depicts, (above) I figured it out, making me smarter than the average smart phone, gooder than a Catholic Priest, Greener than the biggest tree hugger, and pretty much Mr. The Genius! (Thanks to Billy H for that phrase!)

     I am learning that my smart phone is NOT VERY smart. It is kinda good. But not very smart. It DOES NOT have the ability to do what I want, when I want. The case could be made that I have to LEARN how to use it, but don’t you think that is kind of anti-smart? If it were so smart, it would learn how to be like me…Jus sayin’…Hey, the phone is kinda good. It ain’t very smart, but smart and good is not the same thing…

Check your shoes…

     Way back when I dated a girl named Anna, I went to visit her in the city of Toledo. She lived in a somewhat older house. Before I went to bed she told me to check my shoes in the morning. I really did not understand why, so I didn’t. No girl is telling me what to do Imagine the surprise when I slid my foot in the shoe and found that something else had slipped in previously.  It was a large cockroach. Maybe I should listen to girls more often? Yucky. Roaches and palmetto bugs are quite yucky.

     BTW, I saw bunches of palmetto bugs in the Keys when I used to head down there. The fact that I had only 3 pair of shoes to check made the morning ritual of checking the shoes fairly easy to do. And sandals make it even easier…

     This Toledo Terror was by far the biggest roach I had ever seen. Having worked in restaurants I have seen quite a few. Not quite as big as a palmetto bug, but it was hefty, nearly the size of a nickel. I may have screamed like a little school girl. I think I may have thrown up in my mouth a little; I definitely got woozzled and light headed. I hate bugs.

     The only good bug is one that I do not see. Except for fireflies. For some reason the fact that they can glow and all that makes them kinda cute and acceptable. That is until they get in my mouth, then the gloves come off and the fighting begins. They do not taste very good. However, Tucker thinks they do.

     I do not like spiders either. I have a deal with spiders, though. I call it the spider treaty. They can live anywhere they want outside the house and in corners in the basement. When they traipse across the ceiling they are dead. I may or may not have to kill them, but Roxy will. Most times I do end up pushing a bit too hard and it is squashed spider ceiling gook.     A good way to get a spider off the ceiling, like when it is over the bed, is a plunger. Preferably this works better with a dry, clean one. I had a special, never-been-dipped plunger while married to my first wife. It was affectionately called the spider sucker.

         1. Install plunger over the offensive arachnid.
         2. Apply slight upward pressure.
         3. Pull plunger off ceiling and spider should come with the suction.
    

     What you do next is you own deal. Personally, any treaty violation of the spider treaty is generally considered a capitol offense.

     Checking your shoes read: removing them at the door at someone’s house as a guest is generally not acceptable, but when I am working it BUGS me. I move slowly enough without having to put shoes on and off every time I have to go in and out….I can live with it, but it still BUGS me…

     Check your shoes. Good idea when walking in our back yard, if Libby has not done the POOPSCOOPDETAIL…It is also a good idea to check your shoes if you are walking on the grass around any neighborhood at night. Ding-dong ditchers beware; I have left a little Tucker-bomb for you buggers…

     The real people that need to check their shoes however are the Prostiticans. They really BUG me… can you tell? It does not matter which side of the political fence you sit, the jerkweeds that are running this country need to check their shoes. They keep on stepping in it.

     I had to watch a bunch of Opinionflashers today while on the job. Okay, so I did not have to *watch*. I could have changed the channel or turned it off, but like a traffic accident, I was drawn to look…I could not look away from the conversational carnage. I believe the term I am looking for is Hype-and- hypocrisy-hypmotism… I know, correctly spelled hypnotism

     Should we continue unemployment for those lazy slobs that can’t find a job? Should we debate the pros and cons of healthcare reform? Should we worry about the *whateveritis* in New York that may or may not be a terrorist threat? Is the BPD really fixed? OMG…Blah blah blah…Jus sayin’. How does anyone watch this crap all day long…? Check your shoes…*or more correctly boots/hip-waders*

     Shortly before my head imploded and my brains oozed out my ears, nose, and down my throat, I was mercifully free from their TVtryanny. I did find the will to hit the remote button that said OFF. I will admit there was a slight moment of TVtrepidation… I was successful, thank God! And I did check my shoes…

     Check your shoes *Mr. I hate Obama and his healthcare reform bill* It is easy for someone with a super-awesome life-time insurance coverage to disparage any hint of reform. It does not affect their shoes. They check their shoes and the Gucci label is still legible. IKR?

     As long as the Prostiticans can see any doctor at anytime and do not have to decide on the critical decision of what to spend the moola on like say, paying the medical bills or putting food on the table, or gas in the tank, why should they care about anything but their own self-serving sustainability? As long as they are repaid very handsomely for their *service to the country* they will be just fine.

     Hey, teabaggers, tea tokers, or whateverthefuck you call yourselves, hey, Dems. Liberals, and bleeding hearts, hey, conservatives, right wingers, and religious over-zealots, check your shoes and stuff them in your mouth. Hopefully the sh%t that you stepped in is still in place. Then maybe you will know what the slice of the American-Dream Pie the rest of us are eating tastes like. HINT: work together instead of bickering you vampires of value and stop hurling vitriol.

     The real problem in this country is not Obama, Bush, or any other president. It is Cheney. Or it may be Sara Palin It is all of them…It is the corruption and greed associated with preserving YOUR (read: Prostiticans)idea of what America needs. It is the constant back-biting and undercutting that BUGS me. It is the FACT that they cannot do anything that slightly resembles compromise. All they can do is prostitute the good-will of the voters and bend to the will of the Money-god special interest groups, international corporations, and PAC’s. Shame on them.

    Take all the hot air, empty rhetoric, and complete bullshit the Prostiticans are forcing on us along with all the Prostiticans and load it in a large rubber ball. Use a couple of submarines to drag it down to the BPD pipe in the gulf, and stuff that in the pipe. That will stop the bleeding and get rid of the problem. most likely

     When idiots are making the decisions for the rest of the country the situation is dire. I do not know what the solution is, but I do know what it is not. What we have is what it is not. A little bit of HONEST compromise may go a long way to righting what is left of our democracy. Checking your shoes and putting on a less desirable pair may help.

     A bug in a shoe is creepy. Poop on your shoes stinks. A hole in your shoe is uncomfortable. A stone in your shoe is uncomfortable too Check your shoes…and not just for bugs, but for all humankind…

Just another day in paradise

Here today...goat tomorrow…REVISIT

    since the job hunt is so grueling, i will be reposting one of my all time favs!!!!

TRENDING NOW!!!!TRENDING NOOOOO!!!!

1.Marilu Henner (she didn't die did she?

2.Kelly Ripa (i should know who this is but i don't) 

3.Poison pill (good idea for idiots)

4.Credit cards (jacking your rates again)

5.Kim Kardashian (give me a break, stop searching shit for this bitch)

6.Milli Vanilli (resurecting his rap career)

7.John Lennon (sad he was killed by a jackweasle)
8.PS3 update  (free on black friday!!!)

9.Medicare pay (is a head ache) 

10.Liu Xiaobo (rhyming names rock, at least how I pronounce it, it rhymes)

     We only get so many great summer days. Here today…We all should take advantage of the time by firing up the grill and cooking some food. I prefer steak over any of the other grillables…I am a flesh eater. There are few things better in this world than an impromptu BBQ… (Henceforth to be called IM2BBQ’s)

     I have had 5 IM2BBQ’s this summer and all have resulted in the usual shenanigans of summer. However the best is yet to come, I think. but that does not mean that we have not had some alcohol induced ideas of ingenuity. Jus sayin’

As you can see, the deck, while not large, is set up for ultimate IM2BBQ action. Quite luckily for us the deck is fully shaded by 5 ish which really helps keep the sweat factor down and the justifiable beer consumption lower as well. Less beer while cooking leads to better quality grilled food. read: less burnt shit HOWEVER, in full sun the USDA REQUIRES 12oz of beer (or the equivalent) per flesh item cooked…Hey, I do not make this stuff up…yes, you do 
     Here today…A few weeks ago at one of the IM2BBQ’s as we were winding down I mentioned the neighbor’s goat. I blathered on about it being very odd. I think I may have mentioned that it needed to be abducted. My buddy, Jim concurred, although the secret-over-the-fence-mission never quite came to fruition, it has been troubling my waking moments and dreams since. Since that moment, I have noticed that it is keeping an eye on us.

     This goat is not a flesh goat, but merely one made of stamped steal. I really did not pay much attention to the thing until it started moving around the yard. Most likely of its own volition. And they can do a lot with remote drones now days

      After tapping into the FB I application satellite spy city, and even tho' I am techtarded, I somehow was able to procure this high resolution satellite imagery to show that, while I may sound deranged, I am completely sane. As you can see the goat moves around quite a bit, and that is a problem. I admit I did do a bit of photo shopping on this image to overlay all the apparent locations. Could the neighbors have overheard our diabolical discussions and moved the goat? I think not

     I am convinced that it is some kind of Big Brother spying type of device implanted in the yard by the CIA, FBI, NSA, IRS and a bunch of other three letter acronyms, all in order to keep tabs on me and my posse because of our my particular penchant for mischievous malfeasance. All that pot I used to smoke did not make ME paranoid.

  

I know the quality of

some of these pictures is a

bit suspect but the

damn thing moves quite fast.

I am really getting worried after I saw this location. I did not know that goats could climb, but it makes sense. I know the altitude would make it much better for listening in on all my clandestine conversations...

If anything should happen to me, here today…and I, let’s say, disappear, make sure the police contact the neighbors. Here today…Goat tomorrow…

Just a

                 n

                         o
                              th
                                       er
                                               d
                                                        a
                                                                              .
                                                                                       ..
                                                                                                ..
                                                                                                          ...  

Make French toast….it’s the only explanation…

"I believe there r people living among us that r aliens like in men in black-it’s the only explanation!" *totally out of context and lifted from a tongue and cheek (???) response by my friend Marci)* and this gem..."well how else do you explain Larry King? I mean he barley even tries to look like a human!".....many thanks again Marci, as Marciism is a catalyst for a blog…
     There are many things in this world that confuse me. Why we do not understand each other, while struggling to exist on the same small planet is a mindbaffler. I have exhausted my research about 7 ½ minutes  and have decided there is only one explanation. There are Aliens among us. It’s the only explanation. With the help of the interweb and thru the magic of bloggering, maybe we can all figure this out. How about a little tolerance to those that are different
    It’s like I always say, when life hands you lemons, make French toast. Well, I don’t really always say that in fact, I have never said that until now, but I think I will start. it makes as much sense as anything else i come up with to fill up spasce on these diatribes of dynamic dumbfoundery.
     Anything that you can’t explain is always much more easily explained by taking things out of context, embellishment and imagination. Many people believe that religion was started by embellishment of imagination. Some believe it was brought here by aliens. The new world order of cell phones, I-pods, and twits is the only proof I need. poeple are wierd and hence, there are Aliens among us…It’s the only explanation.
     I have had couple of weirdo customers lately. I know I am a weirdo magnet, but these customers are disarmingly weird and unsettlingly difficult. I think they may be Aliens. As the week winds down, I reflect on some interesting facts…
     Fact 1. I am funny. But some people do not find me humorous. Shocking, I know. It may surprise you, but it is true. They must be Aliens. Or stupid
    Fact 2. I am not as funny as I think I am. say it ain’t so, Bruce. And I blame this on the Aliens as well. So, I guess I will be taknig all these lemons read:Aliens  and making some French toast for a while…
     Tucker, the Wonderdog, is afraid of planes. I know it sounds weird,not alien weird but it is true. Yeah, he is all tough and stuff when it comes to other dogs, ducks, birds, bunnies, fireflies and all kinds of creepy crawly things, but when a plane flies over, he looks for the nearest place to hide…Thank god I found my mind’s eye mental imaging camera when I cleaned my car last weekend. If the picture is a little blurry it is because of the stale French fry grease, as it was laying in a pile of oopsmissedthemouth-fries

     Maybe he knows something we don’t...maybe they are really UFO’s…I would ask him, but he speaks in dog, and I think I fell asleep during the verbal portion of that 9 week class during tenth grade…I think I know I was awake for the non-verbal parts of that class, because I think and act eerily similarly to a dog. This may bee a past life transgression penance thing, but really, who knows.

    Dogs are good judges of character and hence also are excellent at detecting aliens. Cats…Not so much…Sorry, cat people…However, cats may be aliens as well. I do know this; if you were the same size as a cat, it would find a way to eat you. A dog would only find a way to hump you, regardless of size, but never mind and dog people know that humping is an expression of dominance. Eating you on the other hand is an expression of killing you…ask yourself which is better, humped or dead? Jus’ sayin’…

     As much as Tucker who has great difficulty spelling, just like daddy would like this blog to be all about him and dogs, it is not, it is about Aliens…And speaking of close encounters of the third weird kind…

     I have been working for a couple of people that are very weird to me. It stretches my tolerance. It tries my patience. It Alienates me from them. Let’s be honest, I need a LOT of French toast for these two.

     The first one even had a weird name. Kind of like she made it up. I will even say spacey, but I will also keep it private, as a writer has to protect his source. damn those Aliens

     FACT: NO ONE says CAIO (or however it is spelled) at the end of a conversation since it was cool about 30 years ago. Except Aliens. They may say that. They probably would say that. It would seem she got the Rosetta Stone 1980’s speak edition. I don’t know, did they have Rosetta Stone back then?  It kinda creeps me out. Oh well, Aliens a re people too.

    The second customer is just odd. He is very self-focused. I know I am as well, but we are not talking about me. Matter of fact, I barely can say what I need to when talking to this guy. He is an over-talker. And an interrupter. And yes I think he is an Alien. And we never talk about me stuff…dropping the happiness factor to a very low number...nearly negative..

     FACT: No one says “I understand” every time they let you answer a question, except maybe Aliens. And let’s face it Aliens are weird. They are kind of alien even. Aliens should not reproduce and make even weirder alien offspring. too late, they’re here But if you understand, then lets not pretend to be all knowing by saying you understand. I get it…

     I know I was a nerd. I know I was a geek. I probably still am. I did not know it then, but I understand it now, but I was never alien weird. At least not to me. And we all know I am the foremost authority on everything but I was not and am not an alien, and therefore not that weird.

     Knowing that makes me sure that I am not an alien, However, they are NOT easy to detect. I will help you out though…They can look just like you and me. Be warned.

1. They do not always look weird. But in certain light, like just before dawn and just before sunset, if there is just enough humidity in the air and they turn just right you can see thru their disguise. I have never really seen this, but I know someone that knows someone that knows someone that knows someone that killed an alien, because of that little trick. Again I have to protect my sources and all that.

2. Aliens say and laugh at the stupidest stuff. Those of you that remember stupid girl, way back when I used to date her, she was an alien. Dogs did not like her. Come to think of it neither did my friends…Hell, I didn’t like her much either, but whatever…Spock (a 150 lb Great Dane) bit her on the head. A---L----I---E----N….

3. Aliens cannot drive. We all know this. This explains all the idiots that drive that are not geriatric Asian women good drivers. Quite simply they are Aliens. I have tried to rationalize their irrational behavior, but alas, there is only one explanation, horrible drivers are Aliens. R-----E----A---L---L---Y-------- A---L----I---E----N….

4. Aliens will also drive around with a pick-up bed filled with all kinds of weird stuff. Why do they do this? They are desperately trying to rebuild their alien spacecraft to head back to wherevertheirfrom. any tyime you see this, it is a good bet they are Aliens...The Trailer Trash shtick is just an intricate cover...

5. Aliens are weird. They are different. Anyone that is different is an Alien. You do not have to understand them; you just have to know they are here and figure out who they are. then kill them It is ok to ignore them as well. We have been doing it for years as part of their master plan for earth domination.

     As a side bar for several years in the fifties and thru the 70’s they tried to assimilate to our world by making hokey TV shows about Aliens. I know this little ploy kinda threw me off their tracks. I am wiser now… I know their plan….

     In today’s world, much like the not so distant past when we burned witches at the stake and persecuted those with skin of a different hue, or that spoke in a different dialect, or with a thick accent, we are intolerant. We fear those that are different. It is not good.  

    I may be an idealist. I may wish for things that will never happen...I do love to laugh at others expense, at times most of the time but I can also laugh at myself. most times, after all i do write this blog  I have been blessed to have some great friends and customers in all my years, so a few Aliens are okay, I will survive. That does not mean I can not vent about it. HEY MAN, I do want us all to be able to just get along. This past couple weeks has tried my patience. (Not all customers can be Marci :) However, I am not yet sick of French toast.

     In the mass of humanity that is the 6 billion and growing population, all these weirdoes that look, think and act different MUST be Aliens. It is the only explanation. We can take this big bunch of lemons and  we could all just make some French toast and sit down together eating a great big breakfast and washing it all down with a big gulp of tolerance and embrace our differences…I know I will try...

Just another day in paradise

hey! before i forget...

    hey before i forget. you guys and gals that read my blog are what it is all about. while i write this as a cathartic catalyst to creativity, i also hope you are entertained, if only for the few minutes we are engaged in my meandering monologues. thank you for taking time form your busy day to stop by and take it all in.

   but what if i forget...what if i lose all my memories...i do not want that...that is worse than death...

   every day i try to take it all in. we all should...life moves at a furious pace...even the lazy hazy daze of summer seem to fly too quickly by. i give all i can to a physical job that takes an enormous toll. it is a labor of mostly love, but it comes with a cost...but enough self pity..what was i talking about?

   i stopped by to see my mom tonight for a quick cup of joe, she looked good, but for the first time i realized that she is getting old. seriously... i usually see her as much younger than she is...denial is a wonderful thing...she does not have many senior moments, and for that i thank god, but i can't help but think that i only have so much time left to share with her.

   My father died in '98 and he was far too young. i cannot talk with him in person but he is on my mind every day. i sign something on every job i do in his honor. i still hear him, at times, calling me brender and bruce the moose...

     i did not apprecaite him nearly as much i should have while he was alive, but now i do...it is too late, however to drop in for a cold one with him...that does not mean we do not have a few rousing conversations every now and then.... but what if i forget?

Hey! before i forget...

   i had a dream i had a few months back. it was not pleasant. it was not memorable...i do know what it was really about but it was very unsettling. i hate those kind of dreams. the ones that you wake from and feel like you are not really awake and there is something that is following you out of that dream...kinda like being trapped in a dean koontz or stephen king short story or novel...what would that be like day after day? wow, it would be awful.

   it is a sinister and diabolical feeling. it is disjointed, dettached and disturbing...it does not happen often, in fact it is very rare, but it stayed with me like the smell of week old eggs left out in the sun...kinda very yucky...but what if it were all the time. what if everyday were that nightmare? that would be bad...jus' sayin'

    before i forget...

   what was i talking about...i do not remember...i must have forgotten. i misplaced the ideas and lost the note

pad in my head. the hard drive crashed...the tape got jammed.. the record skipped...that would be very bad...

   i do not want to suffer from Alzheimer's Disease. that would be awful. i have enough trouble remembering the day date and my name, but what if i forget? what if i forget you? what if i cannot remember who you are? i fear few things, but this i do fear...and what was i talking about?

   in writings and pictures of me and you i will write this story, of our lives so that when i do forget you, i will see you anyway. please forgive me if i am remiss in recalling your name...i used to know you...i must have because you are here. in this picture. what were we talking about? hey before i forget...you were a friend of mine...

hey before i forget

   this memory loss would be so scary...to have someone come up to you and say to you, "hi, dad." or "hi, bruce." and you stare blankly out at them. kinda like browndog, waking from a nap...okay for those of you that knew browndog, that was not just the post nap look, it was most the time...those big sad eyes...who were we talking about?

    i sometimes wake with the thought that i cannot remember where i am. you may think that that is just after a night of boozing, but it happens after a sober night as well...not often, in fact very rarely, but just enough to make me think. it is usually after a disjointed dream, that i wake in this fog...what if this were every day...what were we talking about?
    we were talking about you. i will try to remember you. i hope to remember you...i do not want to forget you, but someday, i probably will...when i am older and grayer and like 106...if i live that long...
   have a party in my honor, not a funeral, greive if you must, but with a beer in hand, and i will do the same for you...

hey before i forget...

   it is better to be dead in the flesh, than dead in the memory...i would not wish that on anyone...

hey before i forget...how bout them TIGERS!!!

Just Another Day In Paradise!!!

It’s not the Heat it’s the stupidity….

       It has been hot lately and humid. That is much better than snow. I can always take off a few more clothes…fighting visual, aren’t ya? Thank god I still have a few blue Speedos floating around the underwear drawer…Hazy, lazy days of summer sure beat the cold, calculating, cutting air of Michigan winter…It is not the heat…

     I hate when someone tells me it’s at least it’s a dry heat  as well. Oh, the stupidity! Hot is hot, cold is cold. Humidity is evil, but hey this is Michigan, wait five minutes the weather will change. Oh well, it is Nothing But Athing…

     I pulled the cover from the grill around noon yesterday to have an impromptu BBQ and Roxy threw the cushions on the chairs, and said, “Well, I don’t have to worry about it raining.” Yes, you would think that statement was accurate. Not so much... I was out there fifteen minutes later grabbing the cushions in a torrential 5 minute squall. Oh no! maybe I will be Not Bar-be-queuing Anything…. Then it was sunny again…Okay, that was a bit more than 5 minutes but you get my point…

     When we were young we did not have central air. We did not have even a window rattler. We had fans. They blew the hot air around in an effort to help the heat go away. It didn’t work. You were simply dealing with hot air blowing around. Maybe that is why SO MANY people of our generation are so full of hot air. I do not remember the first time I heard, It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.” Nothing But A long time ago.

     I read a lot of comic books when I was young and in one of these comics I saw an ad for a book that could help those of us that were not living in the hoity toity subdivisions near my neighborhood, like Princeton Estates where central air was probably more common. I sent away for manual called something like Nordic BTU Assimilation, Thermodynamics and Michigan summer.

     The book was not as cool as my secret decoder ring, and from what I remember it talked mostly about this new fangled idea called Central Air. My father believed that color TV was the devil and he could see color in the B&W console we had, so the chance of us getting central air was almost as good as LeBron staying in Cleveland finding a dinosaur skeleton in my sand box.

    The best way to beat the heat is to beat the stupidity. Shut the windows on the sunny side of the house early in the day and close the drapes to keep the heat out. Then draw in the cooler air on the shady side of the house. Central air is not needed, but it is sure really COOL!!! There are other secrets but I am holding back a few, just try this one first. Or get central air. It will help when the hot air of the Opinionflashers start spewing the *facts.*

     The last week in sports saw the most ridiculous occurrence in my recollection. I blame this media circus for the swing in local temperature. We could blame global warming global climate shift. We could also blame the Russians as I am sure they have a weather machine, which is not covered in any of the disarmament treaties that have been signed since the cold war. I know think they use it to f with our American Chi...

    If you do not know what I am talking about, you have been mercifully free of the ravages of stupidity know as The LeBron LeBong James, (lbj) signing. As most of you know, he is the self appointed KING of the NBA Nothing But Arrogance. This  IS the ONLY STORY in sports. For some reason, unlike all the real good sports, NBA free agency starts like three decades before anyone can sign to a new team. Not only is this a mind-bendingly dumb idea, it causes the sportsheads to look for no other valuable things to report.

    This causes the entire  world of sportsheads, for three millenniums, to focus on where the f- is lbj going to land. The ludicrosity of it all is the inane banter and the constant complaining by the sportsheads about how this story won’t go away. Opinionflash! It does if you stop talking about it. Just like Eldrick. I would rather hear about his dalliances than ONE MORE word about lbj…Jus’ sayin’

     Free agency starts……then……wait for it…..wait for it..........something like.... eight days..... later the bums can find their Donald Trump lotto deals. Other sports free agency starts and SO DOES SIGNING…What a great idea!!! Then we can talk about the signings, not speculate on the one big dumb idiot and where he is going to sign his deal.

     Needless to say, after about three nanoseconds of the Hugeicrite pontificating on where and why lbj is gonna do this or that, my brain started to leak and I tuned into a country station and we all know how much I like county music (actually the guys found) a suitable replacement in oldies and classics. I actually heard One Tin Soldier” and I was not the person singing it! Praise God!

     So lbj is “taking his talents to South Beach.” Looks like the Heat are a shoe- in for the NBA crown next Year. But you really gotta axe yourself, “Who cares?” The NBA No Body Around. It is filled with stupidity, like all sports, but not for me anymore. I’m taking my talents to every sport but the NBA. No Big Audience. I may start watching golf…and the World Cup of Soccer…When does that start?....... bruce you idiot it is over ...BTW Spain won..…

     The NBA season competes with the NHL season. And since NHL is easier, for some reason, for me to type, it is my favorite sport. Well, not really that reason, HOCKEY ROCKS!!! The best sport is Hockey, because there are No Hop-head Losers…

     The days go by and each show I listen to brings in another sportsbrainiac that *knows* what lbj is gonna do…WHO F-ING CARES? I have to find another station....Dammit!! However, lbj, the supreme ego maniac that he is, decided to have an HOUR long special on his decision. He is just a Nother Big Asshole.

     By the time he decided, even if you liked basketball, you would say to yourself who cares…He is not coming to any team but one, so the fans of the other teams, like 98% of the forty or fifty idiots that still care about the NBA ’Nother Bad Attitude do not like his decision. If we want to stop the spiraling madness of pro sports some day we are going to have to stop watching.

     The good thing for me is I will stop watching the NBA No Big Absence. The unmitigated gall by which he chose to *tell the world* his decision is what is wrong with sports. Opinionflash! No Athlete is bigger than the game. It is too bad that lbj thinks he is….oh the stupidity…

     Hey lbj how many championships have you won? ZERO… How many times have you acted unsportsmanlike like? AT LEAST ONCE Too many to count. Then why are you the king? YOU ARE NOT!! So, buh-bye, loser I hope you never win a championship, but if you do, it will not matter to me, as I will never see you play again…as if he cares...

     And of course there was all the hype and lead up to what is probably the worst day in Cleveland sports history. Maybe not the worst, the day Art Model moved the Browns to Baltimore after Irsay moved the Colts to Indianapolis is bad. Well, there was also Elway and the Drive…Makes me glad I am a Michigan sports guy, we only have the Lions to break our hearts, and the Ohioans have all the aforementioned and the Blue Jackets…bummer dude…

     The NBA No Brainiacs Allowed, gave us Latrell Spreewell who years ago spit on his coach and some how he still finished his career, without being banned from the sport. It is only spit, but it is a larger picture deal. The abject lack of respect is appalling. Hey, try this-on Monday, go to work and spit on your boss, when they tell you what to do. See how long you keep your job.

     They also gave us the more recent Gilbert Areanas gun debacle. The NBA, No Brain Attached found out that Gilbert thought it would be okay at bring his arsenal and put it in his locker. Hey, they were unloaded, so give the guy a break. He did get suspended for the rest of the season. However, if you or I do something that ridonkulous, we would probably be at filling out some new applications and maybe even looking at a stay at the old Graybar Hotel…

     lbj took his talents to Miami, and they paid him a pile of cash. He thinks he will win it all. I do not blame the Miami Heat. The NBA Never Be Appealing is like other sports but on some kind of egostroidammoth scale has allowed this kind of shenanigans to occur. They have allowed the inmates to run the asylum. This is the kind of stupidity that looses the casual fan, and does not grow the sport.

      And now the Miami Heat has the *trifecta* Wade, Bosh and lbj. Who f-ing cares. If you are going to watch the NBA Never Bout Anyone but me, good luck. I will take my talents to the fishing channel in the absence of hockey. I will take my talents to watch NASCAR…

     It is summer. It is slow for all sports but baseball. It has been hot lately. Ya gotta find a way to beat the Heat. I started by eliminating the hot air from sports shows talking about lbj. The Heat scored the prize. I do not blame the Heat. It is not the Heat, it’s the stupidity...

Just another day in paradise

The Reeds Lake Monster and Tucker the water dog…

      This evening I took Tucker to the lake. We saw the Reeds Lake Monster. (The Lock Ness monster Reed’s Lake Version.) It was kind of scary. However, it was not as scary as the motorcycle. That was really scary, right Tuck?

     Well, actually I took him to the lake on the 5th of July as well, and that is when we had the motorcycle incident. I sometimes forget that even though he is nearly as large as Browndog, he is still a baby. And it showed when that big, bad motorcycle fired up and he nearly took my arm off running to hide.

      It took me nearly five minutes to stop his shaking and to get him to walk back to the car. This is the puppy that fearlessly hunts fireflies, barks at butterflies, the silly goat thing in the neighbor’s yard, doorbell on television, my wife’s text alarm which sounds eerily like the doorbell and every little noise he may or may not hear… And the same puppy that hid under the car the first time a plane flew over. He sounds tough, but he isn’t.

     I almost had to carry him back to the parking garage in Gaslight Village but he eventually decided he could walk on his own. You know the one I am talking about with the entrance that looks kind of like a large Va-Jay-Jay as you look at it from Wealthy Street.I guess it is supposed to be some abstract sailing thing, but it looks like a vaginaart to me…Jus’ sayin’…

     He could not wait to jump into the safety of the truck.      After all that excitement we came home and took a nap so I did not blog this yesterday. Thankfully, because I may not have seen the Reed’s Lake Monster and I cannot see any point in blogging about the same thing two days in a row. They do not all sound the same, I hope?

      However, until I perfect the napblogging –interface-device, which BTW I am feverishly working on in my spare time, you will have to wait for blogs. When I figure it out; watch out world, it will be blogs-a-poppin’. (Gratuitous 70’s show reference, Jugs- a Poppin’)

     I will share with you that I am having a bit of difficulty with a couple of the complex equations, way too long an complex to share in one blog, so suffice to say they are not just your averagebear type math. They are not just a+ b= c. They are not Chicago Math either. They are Goodwill Hunting and Contact type equations; I will not bore you with the math issues.

     I have also come up against some flux capacitor ionic compliance and differential ratios that are an m-fer and that damn muffler bearing problem. Without the muffler bearing I am sure the blog will be too loud. My blogs are never loud or obnoxious, so a muffler bearing is not necessarily a must but I am the Last Boy Scout. taking into account the possibilities…

     Unfortunately, I cannot do both a nap and a blog. And I cannot do without the occasional nap. I have to get in shape for the Lions football season, when a nap is a necessity or you will suffer a stroke or heart attack. I can think about what to blog, but I am typing challenged enough without trying to type while lying down.

      While I have yet to find a volunteer to do my edits, and hence I do my own, it would be most difficult reading line after line of jdfklahgoiqhfglnvlkdg; and then… jkagjlikajf a m-fer……….jfglkajgiahjgrhjtrpp Jus’ sayin’…vnlkn ajg;ovm Blah, blah, blah iajfakrakv;lsfbna….ldvmzkl v’alkjv’oiaj;lMc;dkgtjoigh;amv;l I know the case could be made that the previous lines were no different the typical bloggerish I spew out about 3 times per week…Jus’ sayin’…

     So all rambling digression aside we went to the lake. Tucker is A WATER DOG!!!

Whew!!! We can all take a deep sigh of relief. As some of you know, both Browndog and Whitedog were NOT swimmers. Yes, they were labs, but they were both waterchickens.

     We tried to get them engaged with the theory that Labs love water, but they were slightly dogtarded. This is not Dogtucky, but they were the progeny of a brother and a sister. There is a certain degree of inbreeding in purebred dogs. There was more than a bit of it with those two. Their lablessness was disappointing.

     Don’t get me wrong, I loved those dogs, but it is kind of like finding out your kids like country music. It is a bit difficult for a rocker parent to understand. I am a choicist; however, so I find nothing wrong other than the ludicrosity of the perpetual beer cryin and lost my woman stuff with country music but you cannot really grasp why or what unless you are a country fan yourself. Live and let live, I guess…

     We took Browndog and Whitedog to Lime Lake for our first attempt. They were not impressed. They tried to drink the water, but did not attempt to swim. They were young so we just put it down as they were too young. I will say that I was a bit worried.

     Then we took them to the big lake a few months later. I think Chris still is scarred from this debacle. We did get them out in the water. They did swim. Briefly. But at the first opportunity they tried to claw their way up his back and his chest. Panicked, would be the best description. They panicked. It would be funny if it were not so disappointing. And poor Chris. Good thing he was not dating much back then, because how do you really explain the scratches. Blaming it on the dog, does not work. Except when you fart, and blame it on the dog, then it is funny.

     They went for a boat ride a couple of times as well. That was also an exercise in stupidity futility. They did not enjoy it. And, no, they did not tell me. They also did not tell me to kill the neighbors. As a side bar the neighbors may have heard me talking about moving their goat. Get a few beers in me on a holiday weekend and my volume may go up. I do not know. It is no longer staring in into our yard. It may have wondered away on its own volition. I may have hurt its feelings. Who Knows?

     BTW the dogs did not tell me to kill anyone for that matter. They did look miserable. And since I have a degree in Body Language with an emphasis on dog body language, I could tell. Since I am not easily discouraged, I tried again. It is the last time the boat actually moved by motor power. It is also the last time I took Browndog and Whitedog for a boat ride. They may have jinxed the boat. I think they peed in it, but it would be hard to tell because it does have so many smells that musty odor.

      We took Tucker to the big lake over Memorial Day weekend. He had to be lured into the water with a treat. I admit I was worried. My fears were lessened on man/dog weekend, when Tucker swam briefly in the river. Well, he followed his big “brother” Bentley and did not venture in often by himself. I was still not sure.

     I took some pictures. I took a ton of pictures. I used a tripod. It worked very well. I still have to learn how to figure out the zoom. It was kind of difficult to get the camera set up far enough away to avoid the dog shake, and get back to take the shot. The great thing about the digital age is not waiting. No surprise pictures of your foot. You can review each shot. Right then... No surprises. All perfect. Except for the zoom…but still no blurry shots!!!

      There we were fetching sticks and enjoying the water and then I got the shot. The one that may propel me back to mildly famous stature. I saw it and I took the shot. Camera steady on the tripod. No reason for panic, as the monster was still far away from the shore. I am sure tucker would have peed his fur, as he is a baby, and scared of many things, but not water! if he knew it was behind him. “Swim, Tucker! Swim!” I screamed. He made it safely to shore just as I snapped the shot. A Pulitzer for sure!!!

long shot monster

close up monster

We can all sleep a little bit better tonight. Tucker is a water dog. And I will soon be mildly famous once again. I got a shot of the Reed’s Lake Monster. You can say it looks kind of like Tucker, but with a tripod, like I said, there is no way I could have had taken a bad picture. So it really can’t be Tucker. It is the Reeds Lake Monster. Well, it could be Tucker. Doesn’t matter!!! TUCKER IS A WATER DOG!!!

Just another day in paradise