tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64495355354053460142024-03-12T16:28:11.747-07:00it's all liesThe musings of an idiosyncratic voice among billionssomeone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.comBlogger181125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-26385234147241339052021-01-25T18:10:00.003-08:002021-08-30T12:33:21.913-07:00the admiral<p>great evening bellywarmer and a vibrant alternative to a whiskey sour, basically a manhattan but with lemon instead of cherry</p><p>only tried with dry vermouth but works well with blended, bourbon, rye, or scotch whisk(e)y - even brandy</p><p>in a shaker:</p><p>1.5 oz (45 ml) vermouth</p><p>1.5 oz (45 ml) whisk(e)y</p><p>1 oz (30 ml) lemon juice OR half a lemon squeezed and sliced</p><p>bitters - aromatic, orange, if you have both try 8 drops each</p><p>shake 30 seconds and serve chilled (if lemon/juice and vermouth are chilled it will suffice)</p><p>enjoy and relax</p>someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-13170534464076125642020-12-26T07:58:00.008-08:002021-01-21T17:03:17.305-08:00legend has it<p>the chief has spoken; if he comes off the mountain</p><p>there will be war.</p><p>if he does not come off the mountain then he will think about it</p><p>the chief paces about until it is time to sit</p><p>ensconced</p><p>upon the log;</p><p>and so, he shall take his place about the log, </p><p>and release the Great Mud Falcon; indeed, that will decide</p><p>for should the falcon reek he will arise from the log;</p><p>should it pierce the mist as a demon spirit, he shall,</p><p>raise his hands to the sky and cry out</p><p>AS FROM BENEATH THE TAIL OF A BISON;</p><p>BREAK WITH THE WIND</p><p>(to the best that we interpret his words)</p><p>and so every elder, woman, child</p><p>shall descend upon the village below,</p><p>with resounding, yea, a deafening cry;</p><p>a wail of great battle would ensue </p><p>for if village below has incurred the wrath </p><p>of the falcon: a great battle must be fought</p><p>but as it were, the falcon, fell stillborn</p><p>and with great thud; gray as winter sky</p><p>it fell upon the ground; behold, the falcon</p><p>did not reek: behold:</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>it lyeth in the mire </i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>as a mound of soot;</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>drenched with the dew</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i> of a thousand moons.</i></p></blockquote><p>and so the chief beseecheth his elders;</p><p>go hunt; go gather; provide for your young</p><p>and he once again takes is place upon the log;</p><p>and ponders these things.</p>someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-9436961104535672512019-09-10T10:48:00.000-07:002019-09-10T10:49:35.727-07:00live from clock tower plaza<span style="font-family: "arial";">Seems I catch myself glancing out at the parking lot before each roll of the dice this lazy afternoon. Funny how the snack bar at a grocery can be such a popular hangout, let alone the fact that it's across town from my school, but granted, close to anything worth while. So after dropping someone off at work why not sit around with the ghosts and beat Yahtzee?<br /><br />They say the teenage years are the hardest we ever live through. At the beginning of it I sat on the school bus thinking those words and felt myself entering a tunnel, and come to think of it, I was right. Last year was a doozey. Had different friends before it started. Maybe we still are, it's just...different. I'm different. How much pressure can a person take? How many licks till you get to the tootsy roll center of a tootsie pop?<br /><br />Friends make you confident, that's why they're friends. You earn each other's trust and pretty soon you're standing on it, feeling it under your feet, head high above everyone else and it's not supposed to get to you, but they don't put that in the brochure. The girls you talk to become the songs on the radio, sonic spirits, even when the words just blend in with the noise of life.<br /><br />Everyone blames the girl I see, but she's just a pawn, devil's due, and it was gonna take stepping in a bear trap to eff things up. When Dad splits logs out back he uses a wedge but it don't do a thing until he smacks it with a hammer. I swung the hammer. Chased curiosity in my language and made promises in hers.<br /><br />The company I get to keep in this deal is neutral, in the war, no threat to the current regime. Come to think of it, she'd look kinda hot in fatigues and shades, medals on the pockets, helmet and boots. It's a shame only dudes seem to get the top job in the real world. Hmm.<br /><br />One time I swear she and I were walking out of here and I saw a dude who used to give me trouble, had a strange way of showing appreciation for someone. He's alright. We all have our ways.<br /><br />There's a retired fellow I talk to, says he sometimes drives along a stretch of the highway to see if anyone's stranded and needs help. His wife reminds him how there could be someone hiding in the trunk, but sometimes we reach a point where that doesn't matter. We want to cross lines and break down walls. Springsteen's hungry heart. I just tend to burn bridges.</span>someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-17326014728694530802018-06-03T10:17:00.000-07:002019-01-03T07:36:56.840-08:00thanksgivingWe gathered at the house for Thanksgiving that year. My brother and his wife picked up Dad from the convalescent home where he had been recovering from a UTI the past couple of weeks. My future wife and I had volunteered to construct a ramp from an old door for some impromptu wheelchair access.<br />
<br />
The little great granddaughter got excited about playing on the ramp and so she did.<br />
<br />
When my brother got there they were half worn out already. Dad was in his late 80s and limp as a wet noodle. There were times when he could do therapy but certainly not today. I helped get him up the ramp and into his chair and it was like juggling several bags of sand connected by ropes.<br />
<br />
Mom got distracted and burned the gravy base. Then, she started all over.<br />
<br />
My SIL had left her coat at the home and so we volunteer to go get it, least we can do, it was still on the chair under the canopy.<br />
<br />
So we blessed the meal and filled up plates, and found out they had fed him lunch at the home despite instructions not to. I had some gravy and it was the best ever.<br />
<br />
At one point I sat with the great grandson and asked if he had a girlfriend.<br />
<br />
"Yeah"<br />
<br />
I follow, "is she any good?" Naturally this draws fire from my future wife.<br />
<br />
Mom hovers over Dad to try to catch what he's trying to say, barely over a whisper. Basically he wants to go back to his bed at the home. Hard to admit how peaceful he seems there when we visit, then he realizes you're there and greets you. She goes back to her chair, and I'm on the couch like we sat so many times over the years. Mom says,<br />
<br />
"Mike, this is your future."<br />
<br />
I realize it is probably the last time we will get to all sit there like that.<br />
<br />
Out in the yard we play some kind of ball with the kids.<br />
<br />
By the time we loaded him up to take back to the home, Dad had rested some and come around, he waved to the little kids from the car.<br />
<br />
2 weeks and a day later I get the call from my brother. Dad had passed peacefully around midnight.<br />
<br />
Thanksgiving had been the right thing to do.someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-88022403259722887192016-12-30T10:46:00.001-08:002016-12-30T10:46:26.292-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mf08BnCReMg/WGarYuZ8o3I/AAAAAAAAFC8/6vtMBa5O62MuEIThODfuEm46VAEWZIwFACLcB/s1600/Toothpaste.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mf08BnCReMg/WGarYuZ8o3I/AAAAAAAAFC8/6vtMBa5O62MuEIThODfuEm46VAEWZIwFACLcB/s320/Toothpaste.png" width="246" height="320" /></a></div>someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-69865932020834083742016-06-09T17:56:00.000-07:002016-06-14T06:19:53.109-07:00Clamp's CatchSo Clamp shows up late, unfashionably, not for lack of trying least, in the usual gray wool getup, except this time, with a new accessory.<br />
<br />
About three feet away is a tall sturdy brunette, twenty or thirty years his junior, who would be quite compelling if she were Angelica Huston, just like Clamp might bring Tony Bennett to one's mind, at least in his own bathroom mirror.<br />
<br />
With a crisp, well-combed presentation in a lavender top, long skirt and a concentrated silence that hints an intense wish to be invisible, she doesn't even keep step with him, and just may have left her soul at home until she can figure out exactly what to do with her somewhat shorter companion and the next couple of hours.someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-16083026902076194142016-06-09T16:47:00.004-07:002016-06-09T18:05:29.258-07:00The Humpty DanceYour Hero shall remain nameless, as he cannot remember his name at the moment, had to step back into the crisp autumn to get his head, flashing lights were never a good thing.<br />
<br />
The shindig, at someone's house had a DJ, didn't see anyone he knew, thankfully, was too dark, just shadows bouncing about to that rap song with, with the big nose and that sliding bass. He'd heard the words before but not tonight, just that bass ripping through your body. Things had started way before he got there after work, and the door knob was practically buzzing in his hand, he got halfway through the living room when he gained a plausible deniability to belief.<br />
<br />
You can't think in there, resistance is futile, you will be assimilated. Can't communicate with words like a normal person, it all ran together, except - either real or imagined, the only human eye contact was with a girl that kinda looked familiar, at least in violet-tinted sepia, bobbing in perfect beat, she got moves, with the head and arms, lip syncing the female chorus echo, however it goes, her lips said, OH OH OH DO ME BABY! as the bass saws away at the foundations, eyes locked on his. It was about then he felt his upper chest tighten, for the first time ever, cut to black till he hit the fresh air.<br />
<br />
First of all...what happened to the days when radio played Billy Squire and ZZ Top and stuff with guitar?<br />
<br />
Chicks gotta shake their butts it seems, sooner or later it boils down to that. Speaking of, just who the hell was she anyway, from school, did she come into the store?<br />
<br />
Oh, yeah, duh, Brent Green had talked him into showing up whenever tonight, big bash for those surviving the fall quarter at tech college, so she's either a regular or guilty by association. It's all coming back now, just need to find his car.<br />
<br />
Heart is still racing but he doesn't need to hold his hands above his head any more. That's never happened, never had asthma, still light headed. And how in hell do they even stand it in there?<br />
<br />
Sometimes it's hard to keep respect for one's peers, like when dudes from school come into the store wanting funnels and tubing for a beer bong, or that one year where every Monday in study hall seems all you heard was someone's parents were away, everyone showed up and the carpet got ruined, and then now, it's all about guys we know getting deployed over in Saudi Arabia since some smartass dictator got too big for his breeches and they're thinking of reinstating the draft.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, thinking is definitely overrated. Sometimes.<br />
<br />
Ok, found the car, this was all a bad dream and hopefully they were all too blitzed, buds to the wiser, a shower will do wonders, and it's Saturday night so that public FM station, 90 point something is playing jazz.<br />
<br />
Now that works.someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-53744298335225725022016-05-20T08:46:00.001-07:002016-06-09T16:49:01.284-07:00The Sun TowerWe would get up early and start down the highway in the '71 Monte Carlo, and all kinds of things go by in the windows.<br />
<br />
Before we know it we pass the big moon in the ground, for the first man who went there.<br />
<br />
Then mostly farms, cow, corn, other cars, people who need to get somewhere.<br />
<br />
At some point there are more buildings, then a water tower that looks like one of Dad's tools, a ratchet screwdriver with the ball handle up in the air.<br />
<br />
About then Mom pours coffee out of a thermos and hands Dad a cup. It smells so good, even though it's just instant with powder creamer.<br />
<br />
We also have a pitcher of water and a bag of goodies, cookies, green grapes, Wheat Thins, and the squeeze cheese that looks like an orange railroad tanker. If I had my way I would subsist on that stuff.<br />
<br />
Then some buildings and more cars, and a really big antenna that they tell me can reach all the way to Europe.<br />
<br />
Then even more buildings and we go through a big bridge, and on the other side there it is, round building with a sun sign on top, nestled by the river.<br />
<br />
Mom tells me it's a place where people go to sleep when they are away from home. But we are going to stay with my grandparents and I will probably get hugged when we get there, but that's life.<br />
<br />
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someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-19068202579849954862014-08-11T16:56:00.000-07:002014-08-12T07:14:50.952-07:00that dayIt was the only time she sat next to me on the bus. Sunny September day at the beginning of 8th grade, we recently got assigned next to each other in reading class, but still, she plops next to me that day and declares that we are "going together" in that patronizing tone girls use, like I'm some toddler. She digs a note out of her things and reads it through, as I try to gather my wits - she mutters a couple broken comments at the paper then puts it away.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At some point I feel a bony arm slip around my shoulders and one of the nearby dudes cheeses, "So you two are LOVERS? Awwww..." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Far as I knew she was seeing a fellow in the class behind us these days. Girls at my school had a gift for clever sarcasm, made it an art really, was sweet pain to fall prey to their wiles. She and an accomplice liked to talk me out of my lunch cakes.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For some reason I tell her about a weird dream I had recently about a classmate of ours and she just kinda rocks back and forth and gives me funny looks as I relate. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thankfully I'm the first stop, time to try and process this, usually crash on my bed but too fidgety. Sheets are due for changing so I tear that down, and in the middle of it start to struggle with my motivation, why am I doing THIS, now, in a quasi-relationship with this girl and her pesky powers, but finish the task nevertheless.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When the weather is this nice there's a bike ride after supper, and even back then, in that reading class I had written papers about bike rides, it's a thing. I lived on a decommissioned highway that formed a 2.5 mile triangle with two grid roads. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She lives on the north-south leg. I head northeast, instinctively, pining for answers.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Social awkwardness can be a prison but sometimes you get a surprise visitor with the file in a cake. Never ended up dating anyone from school, the swift river, until after graduation, made most of my connections through church, the small pond. I'm not much of a swimmer.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Right on cue she stands near the road with a basketball and some younger kids. I seem invited to stop three feet away and touch my feet down, and without missing a beat she informs me in that patronizing tone,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"We're going to have to break up, A---- won't like it very much..."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"That's okay."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not sure what else was said, we never know what to say to each other, but when it felt time to ride on, for whatever reason, I really needed to gently squeeze her right shoulder. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now, I had taken over my brother's '72 Schwinn that he'd bought from my sister's 6'2 husband, here I am a string bean 5'8 by then. I had to hop off the seat to straddle the thing, and leaning in took some effort, hopping on one foot, especially when the girl <i>demures</i>.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Little miss don't mess with me you ballentine jerk, I'm bad ass, I'll hurt you, by most accounts should have me in a full nelson by now, but no, totally shies away - but never <i>looks</i> away. Same piercing eyes that taunted earlier are now those of a wistful puppy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Turns out the tough chick ain't so tough after all.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Got home and put the bike away, sit on the couch, Mom asks me why I'm grinning, staring off at a wall, took me that long to realize there were trees nearby where we'd stood.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To this day, nearly three decades later I still struggle with it - why was the punk brat so much easier for me to face than the very lovely, sweet, tender girl within, one of the best things that will ever happen to a person.</div>
someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-27128298612597867552014-08-06T19:47:00.001-07:002014-08-06T19:47:55.441-07:00*hmph*<p dir="ltr">"Most relationships end because one party requires way too much attention."</p>
someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-24271698167148409282014-07-31T08:21:00.000-07:002014-07-31T08:36:06.594-07:00smarty pantsHaving vivid dreams this week, and last night...well, it was one of those where I walk around in various public scenes, folks come and go, some familiar most are not. But then a couple of the young ladies wandering about are sporting flesh-colored stretch pants, which tug at the eye naturally, nothing new there, except...<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There's something dangling from the "fork". In between, shall we say, sewn out of the same cloth but with stitching or other markings...well lets just say it, it's a mockup of a man's stuff. In other words, junk. Cartoonish twig and berries. Big enough to notice but small enough to poke fun, kinda in the vein (forgive me) of some fad doll, perhaps with an adorable winking face on the "head".</div>
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After awaking with a smirk it occurred to me that a couple nights ago I happened to catch a comedy special by Melanie Comarcho, very funny lady, check her out. Those familiar with her act might see the connection, as she has a gift for unabashed delivery and not afraid to poke fun at perceived (or actual...) male inadequacies. </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the dream I was slightly put off, at first, by the sight of these pants, but that would be the idea wouldn't it? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It'll happen at some point, some cheeky craftsperson will make a few sizes for her friends, and pretty soon they'll have an underground appeal, showing up between a nice top and high heels at parties and clubs, "hey where the hell did you find THOSE?" Then onto more mainstream settings and into the pixelated headlines.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And I'm sure this has already happened as a costume, just not as a fashion statement, which is all well and good, society evolves as it will, just remember where you heard it first and Paypal will be fine for royalties :)</div>
someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-39972934283512476292014-07-29T18:12:00.001-07:002014-07-29T18:14:44.104-07:00construed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U_hqd0i1UFU/U9hGXTf_UdI/AAAAAAAACyo/K6D0Hfofh9Y/s1600/an+idea.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U_hqd0i1UFU/U9hGXTf_UdI/AAAAAAAACyo/K6D0Hfofh9Y/s1600/an+idea.png" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-60817159967196670872014-07-27T19:17:00.001-07:002014-07-27T19:17:12.509-07:00an haiku<p dir="ltr">decaf coffee<br><br><br><br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">it goes down easy<br><br><br><br><br></p>
<p dir="ltr">just like your mom</p>
someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-12056945574658952932014-04-30T17:32:00.003-07:002014-04-30T19:06:09.747-07:00the song<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">there is a </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">song</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">there is a </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">she</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">sometimes all</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">he wants to do</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">is play</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">a song</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">meanwhile</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">she just</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">wants</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">to be </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">the</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">song</span>someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-8765068907286614462014-04-26T17:23:00.000-07:002014-04-30T17:23:41.100-07:00Good TimesToday I caught this classic 70s sitcom and happened to notice this particular episode originally aired 40 years ago to the date. This also means it's one of the very first, in it's intended form and fervor, the one where Florida gets a chance to be in a TV commercial. As I understand it, John Amos would leave the show a year later due to the direction the producers were taking, a sentiment eventually shared by Esther Rolle a couple seasons later. Network suits in all their wisdom, at least in that era, couldn't leave things be for long and would tweak even high-rated shows in an effort to engineer their appeal. They wanted more of Jimmy Walker's breakout appeal in place of substance, so, something had to give, and what could have been a few solid seasons turn hit and miss. But in the initial run we have a treat, this superbly cast working-class Evans family in the Chicago projects, they balance each other so well - Michael, Thelma, J.J., Florida and James Sr. Everyone has their place, they're heartfelt, touching, and especially, VERY funny.someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-12792761762906378872014-02-27T17:12:00.002-08:002014-02-28T16:20:16.909-08:00ol' suse<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">all day</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">from dusk to dawn</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">they roam the fields</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">turning and plowing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">all season long</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">together</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">a man</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and his mule</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">he feeds the beast</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">gives it water</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">nurses it when sick</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and calls it </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">ol' suse</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">which happens to be</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">the name</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">of his sister</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">when the mule</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">does something </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">contrary</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">or does not do</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">what is required</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">he </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">smacks it</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">repeatedly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">on the nose</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">because</span>someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-49645860753819100622013-09-30T15:26:00.000-07:002013-09-30T15:26:47.594-07:00diet tribeHello sinners, bad spellers of the world, UNTIE! It's time for this spelling bee to buzz the hive and honey get a load of these biscuits, you know, get some from the chicken vendor at the K and share with your girlfriend while the bases are loaded, no balls and two strikes (0uch), but at least you don't need a license to line drive, just a sound mind, like a last will and testament, New Testament is preferred but "used" will be fine too, and by the way they get their bats from Looseyville, then we'll head down 65 for some pickin' and grinnin at the Opry, and while we're there, take a swig of some corn squeezin's from grandad's still, white lightnin', sour mash hot mouth rot-gut whiskey, for automotive use only 'cuz they used an old radiator, but our radiator's fine so we'll head across to the Smoky hills, on past Dolly Forge and the family style meals, pass the collard greens and so-so Elvis impressions and just get lost, you know, so we can find ourselves, but if it turns out you still can't find yourself just grab someone's GPS, just be sure to to ask first, and say please, because manners are a lost art, but I don't mind them, as a wise old dead sage once said, wherever we go, there we are, which reminds me, there used to be folks in GeoCities but now the broken links are becoming collector's items, oh how people laugh at me for collecting dust, but I can't help it, maybe I need help. Will you help me? PLEASE? And I'll even leave a post on your wall, "Just wanted to say thanks for a wonderful weekend without sex."someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-43312332677115100912013-09-27T17:11:00.001-07:002013-09-27T17:11:15.460-07:00musing on childhood impressions once more...To take grownup church to an Orwellian end you really just need a building with a sign reading REPENTANCE CENTER. Inside there's a rather stern looking gentleman at a desk and you WILL repent.someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-37675016692907206312013-09-03T19:42:00.002-07:002013-09-10T19:22:02.007-07:00just once...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-60594998055970624682013-08-28T15:36:00.003-07:002013-09-10T19:22:13.944-07:00sometimes nothing else will do<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-15436960978989672502013-08-13T18:25:00.000-07:002013-09-10T19:22:38.557-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-42491085884749732752013-08-02T13:28:00.001-07:002013-09-10T19:22:47.934-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-7866727659586384492013-05-21T19:30:00.000-07:002013-05-21T19:30:01.003-07:00kindred signalsevery once and again i get nostalgic, and usually it's a zeitgeist that sets in and won't let go. it's a good one. about 20 yrs ago, during college, i got my ham radio license. as an engineer and lifetime signal junkie the technical aspects are a natural draw, but i also thought it would provide a way to be social for once.<br />
<br />
first rig was a military surplus deal that, well, was more of a toy than an means to an end. it could pick up nearby cordless phones, the highway patrol dispatch, state prison guard HQ and once a couple of kids running around with walkie talkies. only contact was with a historic aircraft, fittingly.<br />
<br />
but the summer after getting my license i broke down and got a handie-talkie that covers the much more popular "two-meter" (VHF) band, and before long i had an antenna up and made my first contact.<br />
<br />
it didn't take long to figure out who's who. most of the regulars are friendly, some a bit overbearing but all well-meaning. as in real life the best conversations are off the beaten path, such as the older dudes in the next county that let me join in, or the whiz kid up north who has the top class license already.<br />
<br />
still, the introvert in me can spend hours just listening. radio has a magic like nothing else, and sooner or later other towns drift in, especially in the warmer months, and distant civilizations are as close as the desk. and even though all the regional hubs had busy repeaters, none seemed to glow in the night like detroit.<br />
<br />
easily the biggest metro within "drift" range, the scene was always alive, something i got to confirm about 10 yrs later when i lived up that way. one machine in particular would bleed into one of my scan channels for a nearby repeater, and more often than not i'd listen. besides, with only five watts back then i had little choice. <br />
<br />
some nights the 147.140 frequency sounded like a professional call in show. one an off-duty police officer was fielding questions and had to push back one about a particular case that wasn't appropriate for amateur radio. then later on this gal with a smooth, heavenly voice had an "insomniacs net", and i was intrigued when she mentioned she has grandkids.<br />
<br />
eventually i upgraded my license and explored a lower frequency band that, like CB, skips about the hemisphere every 500 miles or so when it wants to. there was still a morse code test back then and so for the first year the mic stayed in a drawer. eventually i made a few contacts and still have the cards, but again, it can be fun to just listen, especially on those nights when the band stays awake longer than i do.<br />
<br />
so now i have full privileges and a decent radio setup, have talked to several continents over the years...<br />
<br />
so why the nostalgia? got to thinking how in the college years we strive for something bigger than what we have and we don't know what we don't know. and for a radio geek, well, studying sometimes has to wait.<br />
<br />
it's blissful quixotism.<br />
<br />
and maybe...as it's often tempting to take life too seriously, i need some of that now more than ever.someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-13914978207532933012013-05-09T19:52:00.002-07:002013-09-10T19:23:06.626-07:00suddenly and without reason<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6449535535405346014.post-10668473795640141252013-02-12T19:45:00.003-08:002013-02-12T19:49:38.426-08:00more things i needed to know 25 years agoPain is only temporary.<br />
<br />
Learn what intuition means.<br />
<br />
There's a reason why Led Zeppelin got you through the fall of your freshman year.<br />
<br />
Everything takes practice.<br />
<br />
Idealism is a young man's game.<br />
<br />
Emotions matter.<br />
<br />
There are as many things to cherish as there are things to take for granted.<br />
<br />
There is always hope.<br />
<br />
If you can stop and laugh at stupid shit you're doing OK.<br />
<br />
Women enjoy sex a LOT more than they let on.someone elsehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11322598764854662094noreply@blogger.com0