Yet another Book Report.

This must be the year of the dog. Rick Bragg Pulitzer prize winner when writing for the New York Times. Bragg a Folksy story teller has recently written a book about a scrubby dog he found wandering around his mother’s rural Alabama home. Then he decided to keep the dog against the advice of his mother and brother. But anyway a reckless dog that kept getting into trouble with Braggs mothers farm animals and dogs. It was not completely clear why Bragg wanted to keep this stray and shabby scuffed up dog but kept it after the new found dog having been chased, had run away, and bitten by other dogs. Creating enormous vet bills. This book is the Southern version of Marley and me. However this dog Bragg names Speckle makes Marley and me seem like a Pomeranian lap dog. Speckle is nothing but trouble from the get-go. However Bragg’s homespun storytelling ability is what carries the book. If you can find the book in a downloadable audio book, Bragg is the reader and storyteller. Folksy and most humorous.

Title: The Speckled Beauty, A dog and his people. Non-fiction 2021.

Here is the Library of Congress annotation:
The author of works including All Over but the Shoutin’ shares his memories of a starving, one-eyed stray dog that showed up one day on the family’s Alabama property. As the dog learned how to belong, he helped Bragg through a difficult period.

The Speckled Beauty by Rick Bragg. 2021.

A Poem.

Soaring.

A poem,

By C. Ronald Curmudgeon

As a cloud schooner

Soaring into new once never achieve heights.

Seemingly effortlessly levitating into

An Azure sky.

While floating ever so gracefully over crowds of

Olympians on measured fields of lime green turf.

The sleek cloud craft

It soars ever so

Effortlessly and it wings so easily cutting the

White Clouds into tiny puffs like

Q-tips scattering about.

On and on the air boat weightlessly soars

As if gravity

Was of no matter.

The majestic air vessel soars

Higher and higher like

A silver monarch making its way.

Into Stratosphere of ever deeper blue.

Ever so much higher it seems to rise

To never before reached heights.

One could only surmise

This my facebook friends

Must be the singular

Sterling image of the majestic

The one and only

Goodyear Blimp.

C. Ronald lives with his unidentified secret spouse Sheba in a commune of aged hippies where they grow smokable broccoli and raise two hump lamas.

Blind guy reading the Newspaper.

Yes, I am blind and like to read the newspaper and books as well. Millions of blind folks such as me read the newspaper by phone almost daily. We all have access to a dial-up newspaper service called Newsline for the blind. Accessing by phone hundreds of national and international newspapers. But to bring realism to the reading process, I ask my wife for her printed paper just to smell the printer’s ink. Ah-h-h. Love that smell.

Plus we blind have access to audio books. Audio books provided by the Library of Congress. All downloadable to our smart phones or digital players.

I have a digital player with several recent book bestsellers. Now here is the big problem; I also can access kid books. I have two young granddaughters who are fully sighted but like to listen to kid’s audio books on my player. So to say the least when they are around the book player is commandeered by the kids. “Papa cue up Da da book. So I do that and off they go into their private place with my book player. A player owned by the Library for the Blind. A player meant to be used only by the blind and reading impaired. Neither granddaughter is blind but love to listen to their favorite books while working on art or homework projects. Never the less, am I in trouble with the US Government? Will I be sent to prison as a result? Will the judge throw the book at me? But not an audio book by the way. Am I in trouble? Jumping Junie B Jones! What will happen to me? “Lock him up!”

What real men like me eat.

Real men don’t eat quiche.
Except for me. Not only do I eat quiche, I bake quiche.. I bake a quiche Jose. A bit more peppery than the normal quiche. Lots of jalpeno pepper, white onion and green. Seasoned with a bit of celantro and garlic. Swiss and cheddar cheese mixed with a quarter cup of parmesan cheese. Then four eggs with one cup of buttermilk. And a few other seasoning ingredients. I prefer bacon as the meat but ham will do. Try it. You manly men will like it. A good cup of black coffee will add to the experience.

Post Card from the Land of Enchantment2

Christmas day. We were forced out of our comfy beds by the grandkids. Let’s get this thing going, they insisted. So after a good cup of coffee we quickly left the hotel and drove as fast as we could to the house with the tree and presents. Got my stocking and an electric tooth brush as a nice gift from my lovely wife. Paper wrapping was flying all over the living room. Grandkids were exstatic and filled with Xmas morning joy. Ate fudge, drank more coffee, and enjoyed the kids happiness. Only wished all kids world wide could have as much happiness. Merry Christmas.

On my resume

Many years ago in a faraway place called Inglewood, California I worked for Sears. I performed customer service work. Solving problems with products and services that had not lived up to its guarantee. The stores mantra was “Satisfaction Guarantee or your money back.” So day after day I came to work and listened to the customers vent their dissatisfaction. It was my job. And on many occasions I refunded their money in exchange for the dissatisfied product or service.

Now as a point of pride a good portion of my job description was “Gift Wrapper.” Yes, I wrapped gifts. As in gift wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. I did that, along with the other customer service work, for about two years. I became good at wrapping gifts. Baby gifts, wedding gifts, birthday gifts, Valentine gifts, and Christmas gifts. All with very nice wrapping papers and all the decretive accessories. I wrapped things as small as little boxes of ear rings and as big as gifts of travel luggage. For me it was a challenge but after wrapping at least a dozen gifts a day, I became good as a wrapper. And it is on my professional resume with pride. However, one day a guy came and wanted a gift wrapped for his girlfriend. He wanted me to wrap a set of ‘Baby doll’ pajamas. A short frilly nylon top and bottoms. So I wrapped them in the wrap style he chose and sent him on his way. Shortly after I had discovered I forgot to include the bottoms in the wrapped present. Oh crap! I thought this error wouldn’t be discovered until the present is given. So I pinned the bottoms to a message board that faced over the wrapping area. Out of sight of the customers. Hoping the guy would return when his girlfriend saw there was no bottoms. But, neither he nor she ever came back. Oh my. Fade to black.

Butchy the Chicken Whisperer Final Chapter.

But Santa needs a chimney doesn’t he? It was simple to surmise there was a serious problem here. The problem was not only one of utility and movement up and down but access. Access as in a convenient entry and subsequent distribution of goods. And If I, an entry-level elementary student, could see this puzzling dilemma of logistics then surely my fully-grown Okie parents could see as well.

It was 1950 and to offer an explanation for my first grade thesis, we had in our tiny East Los Angeles living room a fake fireplace. A drone. A recessed plaster façade. It was obvious to the average Okie there were no gnarly oaken logs, no brick hearth, and no sooty flew or chimney for up and down passage. Therefore, not a real fireplace. Thus, not a point of entry for a short elfish fat guy. Certainly entrance conundrums enough to cause me much worry if not launch me directly into a vexing puzzlement. Boy howdy!

Nonetheless, setting down below the wooden mantle in a hollowed out wall space was a stand-alone gas heater where a fireplace should be. The gas heater was our sole source of heat for our entire little house and must remain lit over night. Above the wooden mantle, was an electric clock set into a polished solid mahogany hull of a two-mast schooner with Chrome metal sails bellowing out and appearing to be in full sail over the mantle of our fake fireplace. A mantle on which stockings were hung with care.

So, without needing to say, none of these charming but counterfeit living room amenities were much encouragement for a six-year old boy of Okie heritage. Especially an Okie boy, me butch, looks for an easy entrance for the Santa guy. You know, the Santa Clause man who is A shortish fat guy with bags of toys. So, I knew the real Santa story and how he gains entry. But the access was not right at our house. No snow. No chimney. Our roof was flat with the exception of our TV’s antenna. None the less, my little Okie boy’s crude good sence told me no way Jose. Santa had no easily discernible access coming down from the sky onto our little squarish flat roof East L A adobe home. However, our front porch was wide and possibly accommodating and accessible from our front driveway. As far as I know there are no rules about landing Santa’s sleigh on a drive way. Right? Therefore if the front door was left unlock, perhaps then Santa Clause could make his way easily and walk in to our tiny living room where our tiny tree is, put down his big red bag of wrapped presents, pull out many toys, and leave out through the same door. I’m sure, as brilliant as Santa is, he could solve this dilemma easily on his own. Just a little bit of elf and magic. Sounds like a reasonable plan to me. Don’t you think huh? .

Note left at front door:
Dear Santa,
Please don’t ring the doorbell. This could wake up my mom and dad. Just lift the latch, the door will be left unlock so just come on in, and leave as many toys as you wish. Thanks in advance. With warm regards, Butch

What happened to my zipper?

Now here is an article I found in today’s Chicago Tribune about a subject I’ve been railing about for a few years now. It the article comes from a weekly column called “Answer Angel.” Mostly a fashion advisory column. None the less I absolutely concur with the writer Charles. No relation.

Here it is:

“Dear Answer Angel Ellen: As my jeans and casual pants wear out, I must purchase new ones every so often. Without being crass, my older jeans have zippers that extend fully down to the crotch, enabling me to easily access myself to use a urinal. (After all, isn’t this the purpose of a zipper?) Many “new” pants have reduced the zipper size by 50 to 75%. This presents a challenge for the male anatomy. I am guessing other male shoppers just accept this and keep buying the junk. My dilemma is finding a pair of pants with zippers that are long enough to use the urinals. I know profits drive manufacturing, but companies should not cheapen the zipper just for a few pennies’ savings. Other than me shopping at resale stores, I am out of ideas. Help if you can. — Charles S. Dear Charles: You don’t say what stores or pants brands you’ve found lacking in the zipper department, but my own survey in menswear shops, department stores and big-box stores found plenty of pants with more generous zippers. One example: My friend Tom C. buys his jeans and work pants at Costco and finds the zippers are just fine. Look harder, Charles, and you’ll still find trousers with zippers in the customary 9- to 11-inch range. More advice: Find the dressing room and try before you buy. I’m sure cost-saving entered into manufacturers’ shortsightedness. Another likely (and related) explanation is they’re using the same size zippers on standard and low-rise pants. One more suggestion: Undo the button or snap if nature calls. Now it’s your turn Send your questions, rants, tips, favorite finds — on style, shopping, makeup, fashion and beauty — to answerangelellen@gmail.com.”

Post script: I often have to unbuckle and unbutton my newer pants to do my business while standing up. I am sometime fearful when in a public Men’s room if my pants might fall to my knees if needing to unbuckle and unbutton. An embarrassing situation for a 77-year old grump. I sometimes feel I have mistakenly bought pants meant for a female with a short zipper. A mini-zipper just long enough for most women to remove their trousers. But anyway I’ll look around. I have bought most of my britches from Eddie Bauer. And contrary to my fashion advisor and daughter’s instructions I bought the pants without trying them on. Old men are so stupid.

The other Charles.