How could you do this? How could a person take perfectly good coffee beans and turn it into a mug of sludge? I know of some seemingly reasonable people who do this. They go to the trouble of having Bolivian coffee beans imported and roasted far away then shipped FedEx to them overnight and go to the trouble of grinding, brewing, and pouring the hot brew in to their favor cup. Possibly using a French press as well. Then pour in sugars and creams; turning the whole thing in to a waxy ball of muck. How disgusting!
My Okie father taught me to drink good coffee, BLACK. Unadulterated. Just pure goodness. Unflavored and brewed to perfection. Real man coffee.
Then there is my Bro-n-law who brews his coffee and dumps spoons and spoons of some chocolate mocha by the table spoons. He could easily fill in dints in his fender with this concoction. Absolutely deplorable.
I’ll take mine black. Dark brown. Unable to see the bottom of the coffee mug. Coffee you could volcanize tires with. Oh, so good. A–aah, I’ll take a refill.
Black is the color of my true love’s Joe.
Just dribble and shoot
Two finals during the NBA.
It was during the 1993 NBA playoff final with Charles Barkley versus Michael Jordan. Or rather the Chicago Bulls going up against the Phoenix Sun. Two titans battling for the NBA championship. All of this seen on a tiny TV affixed up high on the wall in a delivery room of St. Johns hospital in Tulsa.
The soon to be father was holding the hand of the soon to be mother while he watched the NBA playoff. His attention would switch back and forth depending on the action. Critical point team action or movement in the soon to be moms tummy. Then suddenly a tiny head began to pocked out and the attending nurses caught the dunk shot. Looky there, it’s a girl! How about that! Happy birthday Lauren Elizabeth.
Not sure who won the NBA playoff. But congratulations to both mom and dad on their big event. Swish!
Sing Songy waitperson.
Is she a waitperson or a childcare provider.
Where do they all come from? There must be a school where one learns the language of sing-songy patronizing table waiting. There must be at least one per each restaurant.
Pardon me if it seem a bit sexist but, what I’m trying to describe happens mostly with teen girls and young women. And it might happen with young men waiters as well. Really don’t know.
But anyway, who teaches girls and young women waiting tables to sound like someone teaching a toddler to enjoy eating all its food.
There is a practiced high pitched nasal tone they perform. Sounding something like a young Edith Bunker with way too much smile in their voice. Almost like they might break out in song and dance. Hi there, my name is Breanna and I will be your humble server tonight sweetie. Oh, my oh my can I really really take your drink orders?
Doing this tippy-tappy tap dance choreography with a facial expression of a smiling kindergarten teacher.
All of this just for the price of a generous tip. But don’t get me started on the subject of tipping.
Help me find my cousin.
MIA.
I am looking for my long-lost cousin, Stephen Shelby Webb. I last saw and talked with him in Roseburg, Oregon back in 1973 when spouse and I stopped at a Denney’s and met him there. Steve as I called him was a bus driver in Roseburg and formerly a shipmate on an intelligence gathering navy boat and the sister ship to the Pueblo. Steve spoke Russian and his ship hung around the waters off Siberia.
But anyway, Steve was adopted and his birth family was Zimmerman. He left his Webb family under harsh feelings. His adopted mother, my aunt, was sort of a witch spelled with a B. I spent many weekends out at his family’s house before he got married. His adopting brother David Webb said yes, their mother Abley ran Steve off. Last I heard Steve was president of the bus drivers union. But I can only guess at this point, Steve must be retired. I have done some search and came up with nothing. If you know any retired or currently old bus drivers in Roseburg ask if he or she knows Steve Webb or Steve Zimmerman. Thanks for any help.
My Book Report.
posted by Chuck Ayers
Book ReportBefore we get started on this book report, I would strongly suggest you obtain the audiobook as read by voice actor Kathryn Markey. She does a most credible job of replicating an Italian accent, Irish accent, French accent, a British accent, and of course, an American accent. Let me further explained and once again I am writing these reports because I failed to turn in my book reports in junior high. So, I am making up for my past failures. But anyway, this book is historical fiction about Ellis Island in 1902 and from the perspectives of a new hire matron; a woman charged with assisting the immigration service’s inspectors and processing of newly arrived immigrants from Russia, Italy, France, the UK, and other European and Asian countries. Coming by the boat loads. An on the other side of the coin, a young Italian immigrant woman arriving and How the two individuals happened to cross paths
Title: The Next Ship Home, A novel of Ellis Island by Heather Webb, historical fiction published Feb 2022.
Library of Congress annotation:“Ellis Island, 1902: Two women band together to hold America to its promise: “Give me your tired, your poor … your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…” A young Italian woman arrives on the shores of America, her sights set on a better life. That same day, a young American woman reports to her first day of work at the immigration center. But Ellis Island isn’t a refuge for Francesca or Alma, not when ships depart every day with those who are refused entry to the country and when corruption ripples through every corridor. While Francesca resorts to desperate measures to ensure she will make it off the island, Alma fights for her dreams of becoming a translator, even as women are denied the chance. As the two women face the misdeeds of a system known to manipulate and abuse immigrants searching for new hope in America, they form an unlikely friendship?and share a terrible secret?altering their fates and the lives of the immigrants who come after them. This is a novel of the dark secrets of Ellis Island, when entry to “the land of the free” promised a better life but often delivered something drastically different, and when immigrant strength and female friendship found ways to triumph even on the darkest days.” Read this book. You will like it. And for those who might care some romance weaves in and around the narrative. I just hope my English teachers Mr. Burgess, Mrs. Cox, and Mr. Ryan likes my report.
Some say I look like Alfred E Newman.
Who did I look like?
My senior year 1962 and only eighteen years old.
Standing in a bank teller line behind a petite woman with a pixie hair cut wearing black leotards and body tights she kept turning around and looking up at me with her round child-like face. Was I standing too close to her? There were about six or eight people ahead in a slow-moving line. But anyway, she appeared like she just came from a modern dance class or gym. It was not often one would see a smallish adult woman in line at a bank wearing a black exercise body suit. But she still kept glancing up at me but I kept my distance. However, I must explain this was the Bank of America on Hollywood boulevard in downtown tensile town. You could possibly see most anything ordinary as well as the bazaar on Hollywood Boulevard. I had just gotten off the Hollywood bus coming from the downtown L A transfer station and needed some change for a 20-dollar bill. My destination was my cousins apartment on Wilcox in Hollywood. Escaping my parents home for the weekend. Something I did about once a month hoping to escape parental conscription. Not wanting to be called to yard and lawn duty.
One cousin was a postal worker delivering the daily mail and the other a sack boy at a local super market. A couple of real live wires. Cough cough. Well, they at least had a good sense of humor and were willing to adventure around the L A west side with me. But I kept thinking about the little pixie woman and her need to stare at me.
On another occasion I was visiting my parent’s home on the east side and had the opportunity to visit a social gathering and this young Latina woman came up to me and said I recognize you are you a movie star? No, not a movie star. But you look so familiar, she said. Nope, not me. I had many others in the past mention the same. Asking myself, who do I look like? Charlton Heston? Tony Curtis? Bette Davis maybe? What celebrity wears big black framed glasses like me except Mr. Peabody of the Sherman and Mr. Peabody cartoon fame.
Later when in school college girls would come up to me and pop the question. Do I know you? Your face is so familiar. I was tempted to say, yes, I’m your long-lost lover. But, no I would not do that.
I could gfo on and on but I won’t. I’m really a nobody. So, end of story. Fade to black.
Put duct tape over her mouth.
Play Lobamba
When wife and I lived in Sacramento, California we sometimes drove east on US-50 up to Lake Tahoe in the Sierra Nevada mountains. We drove up to the adjacent town of ‘Stateline.’ Stateline is where the big casinos and it’s numerous entertainment venues were on the Nevada side of the California/Nevada border.
We would stay overnight at a local motel and they were so generous to give us a roll of nickel’s worth a dollar to get started on our gaming exploits. The roll was gone in a flash.
But anyway, we would go from casino to casino and listen to the numerous free ‘lounge shows.’ Shows with three or four musicians with or without vocals.
However, some of the big acts was British singer Matt Monroe. Monroe made the song Born Free famous from the movie with the same name. Also appearing in one of the big casinos was Ray Conniff and his chorus and orchestra. One of their big hits was “The way you look tonight.” But we skip the biggies and just listened to the free lounge acts. Generally, a lounge act is just an opened stage in the wall big enough for two or three musicians. The people who come to listen just stand around. There is no seating. One act I recall we listened to was “The Jets.” I later found out Thad they had opened for the early version of Steve Martin, standup comedian.
But we walked near and listen for a while to The Jets. One guy playing an electric guitar and was very good. Then another played the electric bass and a drummer with only a snare drum and a high-hat cymbal. They were performing a novelty tune about a one-eye rooster and just about finished when a very drunk woman blurted out “Play Lobamba.” But the band carried on with another pop tune. They got about half way into the tune and again the drunk lady bellowed out, “Play Lobamba.” Now to refresh your musical history, Lobamba was a tune written and made famous by Richy Valance. The same Richy Valance who perished along with Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper in a plane crash out in a corn field in Iowa after a concert in Illinois.
But anyway, The Jets persisted and played on. Two or three songs later the very drunk lady once again Hollard out, Play Lobamba. At which point the drummer stopped the show and yelled back “We do not have an arrangement for Lobamba so please stop asking. So, the ban went ahead only to be interrupted again by the drunk lady saying, Play Lobamba. After that final annoying request most people standing around began to wander off towards the all you can eat one-dollar buffet.
More better good advice.
Ask Aunty Lucille.
Dear Aunty,
I like to think a run a tight ship. I like everything in its place. However, I have few things to clutter or get in the way because I live a calm simple life.
But I have a younger sister who often comes to visit. Which is mostly a good thing. However, when she comes, she brings her three very active but yapping Chihuahuas. They all look the same to me but they are named Senor Jose, Amigo Juanito, and Chiquita Maria. Again, which dog is which, I have not a hint.
She brings all three in a large wire crate, backs her car into my attached garage, lifts out the crate, and lets them the house through the side kitchen door. At which time they burst into the house barking, running, jumping, and chasing each other. Immediately at which point my sister starts clapping her hands to get the dogs attention and also begins calling them each by name to settle down. Sometimes resorting speaking to them like toddlers. You know, poopsie woopsie puppies. You must obey mommy. Leaving me little time to even say hello. They will momentarily settle down but , my sister spends most of our visiting time again clapping and yelling commands to the feisty little scampers. Leaving us little visiting time. I really would like to spend more time talking. Talk about other interesting things in her busy life. Lucille, how do I get her attention and have a reasonable sister to sister conversation? This leaves me so frustrated.
Dear Frustrated,
Have you ever asked your sister to please leave the puppies with either a friend or a kennel. Explaining to her gently you would like a quiet moment together to hear about her private or business life. Tell her you are genuinely interested but can’t hear or concentrate when puppies are barking and she is ‘also barking’ out commands while clapping. You might even pay for a short kennel stay for the little darlings or pay for a neighbor boy or girl to come and puppy sit and hopefully outside. Or you could ask her to meet you at a nice restaurant at your treat. Hopefully an eating establishment that does not allow dogs inside. Let me know what happens.Aunty Lucille.
I’m not running for President.
The theatrical mask of conservatism.
If I were running for President I would NOT invoke the name of Ronald Reagan. He is the reason missiles were shipped to our enemy Iran. Iran then sent payment to the far-right wing military group the Contras in Nicaragua. A ploy against the recent law made in congress prohibiting such a thing. Sneaky huh? Which caused the Iran/Contra hearings and resulted in dozens of indictments and convections in the Reagan administration. Look it up.
And when Ronald Reagan was governor of California he cancelled affordable public college education, making it unaffordable. Taking state and federal education monies and gave tax cuts for the rich. Creating a huge tuition increase. Therefore, Reagan was no friend of public university and college education. Look it up.
But many people remember President Reagan as Chief consoler and poet when the space shuttle Challenger blew up on takeoff. Allowing his acting career to kick in. Certainly, Emmy award winning.
Chuck the Blogger Guy 