I agree. Let’s have an election audit.

Yes, the election was stolen.

And the election I speak of is 2016. With Russians and all manner of spies, sneaks, disinformation, and election thieves Donald J Trump lost the election. Hillary won. Trump’s presidency should be purged from the books Written off as a bad dream. All his executive orders should be reversed and determined as crazy hair man bunk. Just blather and smoke. B. S.

We need to start an audit in every county in America. Seize every voting machine. Count every ballot from 2016. I am positive it would show Trump lost and Hillary won. I’m positive of that. Hillary won. DJT was never president. He was just an apprentice wanna be. Just a gas bag with Bozo hair. A smelly fart from a boy cows rear.

Go Hillary!

Butchy the Chicken Whisperer chap 5

You wouldn’t believe the work it takes being a Chicken Whisperer. It’s all hands on and gets pretty nasty. Lots of chicken leg holding and handling. Necessitating washing of hands. And again I do this because my mom wants me to wear these fribbing glasses. Which has changed my plans wanting to be a singing cowboy? Therefore, my hero Gene Autry doesn’t wear glasses. Buffalo Bob didn’t wear glasses. Bullwinkle the Moose doesn’t wear glasses. But I do. My mom said it so. Poopy all to heck anyway!

So it was I was walking home after school. As I happened upon Joe Miller’s market a few friends were gathered at the curb in front of Miller’s market. One of my school mates yelled at me to come and see the arrival of the Wienermobile. You know the Oscar Meyer weenie machine. Come and watch Butchy. Oscar will be here any minute. So, I stood at the curb as friends suggested. So in a few brief moments, here came Oscar standing in an open hatch atop the wienermobile blowing a weenie whistle. Tweet tweet tweet. So all we kids yelled and clapped. And out from the side door of the big long wiener jumps a smallish Oscar Meyer with a white chef hat and white cheffing clothes. Moving in our midst he quickly handed out weenie whistles to all us kids. Now let me mention this. I was almost positive this smallish guy is not the real Oscar Meyer. However he did stand less than five foot. It was most obvious to me he was a midget actor. A short guy to play the role of Oscar. None the less, as my friends were tweeting away on their whistles, I glanced over to Oscar (the actor) standing next to Mr. Miller negotiating on a box of cigars. Mr. Miller really knows how to market his business. He knows the power of incentives. So Miller got a bunch of kids milling around his store buying gum and candy and Oscar got a box of Roi-Tans. Wait until I tell my new best friend Donnie from Milwaukee about this Wienermobile thing.

Attention Old People like me.

We need to pay close attention to the news. News from newspapers writing how our Democracy is being attacked. If we lose our Democracy we probably will lose our social programs. Namely Social Security and Medicare. There are those out there who wish to disrupt our current form of government. Government passing laws granting us ways and means to pay with our own taxes needed social programs. Which could result in reducing or eliminating these necessary programs. Again, Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, food assistance, breakfast and lunches for school children, funding for public schools, free libraries, health clinics, etc. Instead there are those die-hard penny pinchers who want to shift such funds into privatized programs. Programs skimming off funds and sending those monies to shareholders and stock speculators. Greatly reducing benefits while creating a third party middle man.

They will try to convince you all of this is”Socialistic” and bad for our country. Even though for the past 200-years we have been living and benefiting from social programs. Programs paid for by our own taxes. Paying for such things as Police and fire protection. Maintaining and repairing streets and expressways, bridges, railroad beds, airports, the National Weather Service, FEMA, consumer protection, military and equipment, Coast Guard, Border patrol, water purification, sewers, street lighting, traffic signals, and the list is unlimited. All paid for by our taxes but everybody benefits.

So, it is your job to ask the right questions of our elected official. If all they are interested in is reducing taxes then ask them how we pay for the public programs like Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, public schools, roads and bridges. Programs vital to our American way of life. Public primary and secondary schools, community colleges, public colleges and Universities, public technical schools, and more. Once again paid by your taxes. Taxes vital to support all of the above and beyond. And the small minded will keep calling this Socialist or entitlement programs. Call it what you want but a major component in our lives paid for by our own tax contributions. What the very rich do not like is all are required to pay a fair share of taxes. Bothe Rich and the working poor. And it’s been that way for dozens of decades. Let’s keep it that way.

Why do they talk like that anyway?

Pardon my sexism but it’s mostly women waitpersons. Restaurant Waitresses who speak in a high pitch and sometimes shrill nasal tone. Speaking as if a pre-school teacher speaking to three or four-year olds.

“Now boys and girls, listen to Miss Susan. Is everybody ready to order their yummy lunch? Oh how cute! I love your pink tennies with Minnie Mouse on them. Did your mommy buy them for you?”

And I’m thinking do all women wait people come from the same shrill speaking linguistic waiter school? Often talking like Fred Flintstone’s yakking wife. The reason I say this is there are a bunch of them out there working in restaurants. And mostly here in Oklahoma. However they might exist in other parts of the country. But this last time at a local Mexican restaurant we came across the most animated of all the shrill talkers. Animated voice with exaggerated facial expressions to boot.

“Oh, the two of you look so darling in your matching shorts and top. Did you get them from Penny’s? Or did your mommy order them from Amazon?”

All my wife and I can do is roll our eyes at each other and hope we get the right order.

I certainly must say it took a lot of self-control on our part to keep from laughing.

“Hey you guys, how about a glass of milk with vanilla cookies? Wouldn’t that be really scrumchy? Maybe a few raisins on the side. What do you think kids?”

Just get my order here quickly and let us get out of here before I laugh myself silly. Do you know what I mean? By the way, these cartoonish like waitresses would fit in quite well with Mr. Rogers Neighborhood.

“Come on kids. Finish everything on your plate. Can’t leave until all is cleaned off your ‘Cookie Monster’ plate.”

Butchy the Chicken Whisperer, Chap. 4

Ever since I started wearing glasses back in 1952 some of my stupid friends would call me ‘four eyes.’ Not sure why but it made me mad. I didn’t want to wear glasses in the first place but my mom said I had to wear them anyway. And ever since that time I had to give up my wanting to be Roy Rogers. Roy didn’t wear glasses. Neither did Superman. Well, I take that back. Clark Kent wore glasses but really didn’t have lenses in the frame. It was just a disguise. That and his reporter’s fedora. Lois Lane never could tell Clark Kent was really Superman with glasses. But my glasses are in a cheap wire frame. Looking like Mr. Whimple the guy on the Fring Dingus TV show. So this is why I decided to become a Chicken Whisperer. I have talent in this area. Yes that and taking out the trash. Both these occupations are prominently posted on my resume.

Never the less, my new best friend Donnie from Milwaukee and me sometimes would wander over to the Union Pacific train station. It’s was about a half mile away from our street. Cutting across the big empty vacant lot just south of the Willard Battery factory, across the switch tracks, and down Ferguson Avenue we would stroll. A station styled in post Spanish colonial architecture with black rot-iron fixtures and a red tile roof. Some say this East L A station was used a few times for a movie backdrop. But anyway, we would go there and try to look like passengers about to board the train. But if the truth be known we went there to drink from the only refrigerated drinking fountain in the territory. We would sometimes just sit in the pew-like seats and wait a few minutes and then casually walk back over to the chilled water fountain and drink like we just walked out of the Mojave Desert. Then we would stroll out on the expansive tarmac where passenger trains arrive and depart. While the train was taking on passengers I would walk up to the front of the train and look at the glossy yellow engine withit’s red lettering: Union Pacific Railroad. Up in the cab of the train were engineers in their blue bib overalls, engineer cap, red bandana around their neck, and I just would gawk and daydreamed. So one other time I was doing this the engineer opened the cab window and said, “Do you want to come up and look inside?” I guess I was so buried in thought I just froze. My first thought was all the short movies our teachers showed us about kidnappers and their tragic result. So, mindlessly, I shook my head and backed away. The engineer probably thought I was short on curiosity and a bit Okie. He was probably right. No Chicken Whisperer would ever board a train without his mother’s permission.

Too many boats not in the harbor.

There is a virtual full parking lot of boats outside the L A Harbor beyond the breakwater barrier. Some anchored out there for about a month or more waiting for a docking space to unload their foreign made goods. All cargo ships wanting to dock and unload its full containers filled with Asian made widget and whatsit cargo made by conscripted Chinese workers making pennies on the dollar as compared to living wages of American workers. Cargo coming from several western Pacific Asian countries. So many containers and not enough docking space to unload them.

Well then, let’s turn our attention towards Amazon. Maybe Wal-mart as well. Best Buy might be a reason for this crowded deep sea parking lot. Port authorities also say not enough trucks and truck drivers going in and out of the harbor to huge warehouses inland. Then President Biden suggested the harbors should be operated 24/7. Some are already. Then all of this agitated by the electronic and print media saying Christmas will be delayed. Oh my goodness! Well, perhaps we have forgotten the true meaning of Christmas. You know what I mean?

Never the less, here is my take on this floating waiting game. It’s simple. Too many cheap goods needlessly coming from China to America. Goods that will eventually and perhaps quickly end up in a landfill. My opinion is we should be more worried about filling the landfill than how quick boats could be unloaded at dockside. Fifty years ago how did we ever get along without all this needless electronic/mechanical STUFF? Well, it’s today’s “Gotta have it” manufacturing and marketing get-it-now blather. The latest and greatest STUFF. Some of this STUFF that use to be manufactured here in America but congress and corporations sent most of it offshore for large corporations to make even bigger bucks. Trading quality for quantity. Had the manufacturing stayed in America certainly costs would have gone up. But all the while supporting good jobs and the middle class as a result. This is one reason many low wage American earners hate government and its big business enabling sugar daddies. Corporate Sugar daddies paying very little or no taxes. Taxes sorely needed to support our vital infrastructure. So we rush off to the big box stores hitting every unfilled pothole therefore ruining our cars and trucks tires and undercarriage. Or going online to order cheap goods only to see our identity stolen and personal info compromised. Black Friday, Amazon Plus, Wal-mart free delivery, etc. Surely we can get along without all this pre-Xmas anxiety. Let the boats stay out on the open seas until they all sink. Who cares? Get rid of the gaming videos devices and send the kids outside into the fresh air. Just buy a box of See’s Candy instead. What more could we all want?

Read a book. You will like it.

Book Report.

The book, Nomadland, surviving America in the twenty-first century. Non-fiction 2017 by Jessica Bruder

A story of mostly middle age or older Americans either forced out of their homes due to the 2008 recession or just wanting to get rid of a house money pit. Then ending up buying a used RV or trailer and wandering about following seasonal work in hopes of gaining a sense of freedom. But only finding work for minimal wages just to make ends meet. Book author Bruder herself buys a van and converts it into her rolling living quarters and follows the senior Nomad workers from place to place and chronicles their nomadic wanderings. A timeline of mostly older workers mainly wanting their freedom from home maintenance and taxes and how they accomplished this. And surprisingly a significant number of older retired Americans experiencing this exhausting nomadic lifestyle. Older people working seasonally at state and national parks as trail guides or trail maintenance workers and/or laboring at Amazon ‘Fulfillment Centers.” While parking their traveling home at Wal-mart center parking lots and/or nearby camp grounds. Often working punishing jobs. Stocking and picking merchandise in a huge Amazon center as fast as they can walk or run. And most Amazon centers are as big as a dozen football fields. None the less, describing a large sub-culture of older Nomadic Americans working demanding jobs while creating community at these RV parking spots. Finding much in common with other older travelers. Book was recently made into a movie and won an Oscar. Book is most interesting but physically punishing for the older homeless American nomads. Describes Businesses or outdoor recreation state parks or centers often taking advantage of the older retired nomad’s homeless condition. Almost sounding like a modern version of ‘Grapes of Wrath.’ You will like it if you read it. Again, it’s titled ‘Nomadland’ by Jessica Bruder.

You shouldn’t not do this ever never.

no hablo español.

I have tried since I was fourteen to learn and speak Spanish and it just doesn’t stick. But I know why. You might think I’m a bit loopy but believe me no hablo español.

The Hispanic gods have cursed me. Let me explain, I grew up in the Latino section of Los Angeles on the eastside. You would think this would be a plus but no hablo español. Plenty of native tongue Spanish speakers to give me help. Only if I had asked. But no, I didn’t.

Here is what happened: I was hanging with some guy friends with nothing else to do and we all were about 14 or 15-years old. Loose and looking for a bit of trouble. This would be somewhere near 1958. After biking around and being just restless and with no goals in mind we decided to go into our favorite store which had a large magazine and book section. Plus candy bars, gum, and more. So I picked up a Baby Ruth candy bar. Then got to looking all through the book and magazine section and my eye caught this little pocket size English/Spanish dictionary. The price was one-dollar and fifty cents. But I only had enough money to buy the candy bar. So after looking from side to side and take notice of the cashier, I stuck the little dictionary in my coat pocket. A small dictionary with a liver colored vinyl cover. Nothing one would never ever risk being caught stealing. But again, I was Okie and fourteen. The age one dares to do most anything. So I stepped up to the cashier and showed my candy selection and paid the cashier. Don’t ever do this!

In retrospect, I could imagine being caught stealing this ugly red pocket book and as a result they call the cops. After taking me to police HQ and ‘Booked’ my folks would be summons to come and bail me out of jail. All because I desperately wanted to speak Spanish.

Never the less, from time to time I attempted to learn Spanish and to no avail. I am certain it was a Hispanic curse. So… no hablo español.

Butchy the Chicken Whisperer, chap 3.

To remind you once again I am the Chicken Whisperer. I’d rather be Sky King but I wear glasses. Sky King doesn’t wear glasses. Howdy Dooty doesn’t wear glasses. The Creature from the Black Lagoon doesn’t wear glasses. Never the less, I am Overlord and Sovereign of the chicken yard located behind our backyard. So never mind my youthful age of eight while wearing glasses. However, Chickens obey my wishes or be threatened with sudden dispatchment and rotisserised. My commands are honored or be roasted. It’s as simple as that. Got it?

But when I’m not whispering my best friend Donnie from Milwaukee and me are often watching my family’s new 1951 Sears 12-inch black and white TV. A TV that often angles to the right or left and looks as if the picture is compressed into a diagonal Dagwood sandwich. So we begin to adjust all the knobs on the front and back. “How’s that Donnie?” “It’s okay but flipping over and over.” Rolling like a non-stop Farris wheel.” So I try some other knobs and adjustments. “Now how’s that?” “Well, the picture is completely black with streaks of white here and there.” I know, When all else fails we could pull out the glass tubes in the back and take them to the drug store and test them on the tube-tester. However, neither me or Donnie drives and Donnie’s mom won’t take us. And it too far to walk to the drug store. But when the TV is working its best, the television looks as if a black and white photo seen through a fresh sheet of wax paper. Fuzzy but somewhat discernible. But if it’s not working so great, we’ll go out back and toss eggs at the neighbor’s cat instead. How about that?