But before we get to disappointments. , way back in 1966 I registered as a Republican. So for a long long time I identified with conservative Republican policy. Such as it was back then.
In 2002 I switched my affiliation to the Democratic Party. It took me a while getting there though. Before I got to the big switch, I voted twice for Richard Nixon, twice for Ronald Reagan, and voted for various Republican city, state, and US Representatives before I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. But when it came to George H W Bush and his nare-do-well son, George W I just could not vote for these two political weenies. However, I thought their wives Barbara and Laura were nice lady folk.
But then I was not totally satisfied with the Democrats either. There was just something about their insisted political correctness. Lots of lockstepness on both sides of the political aisle. So finally I decided to register as a political Independent. Tired of the abortion, gun, and LGTQ issues. I’m more of the clean air and water, renewable energy, and equal rights, and let’s fix our infrastructure kind of voter guy.
But it is very sad to know there are fewer and fewer good people left in the Republican Party. Most disappointing. Most discouraging. Most maddening. Where did they all go? Long time passing I guess.
We now have the likes of Texas governor Greg Abbott along with the governors of Florida, Arizona, Arkansas, and a few others who borrowed their politics from Joseph Stalin and the Boston Strangler. Making them all the worse kind of Republicans. So sad.
A rattle in my front-end.
I am going to sue the city I live in. Sue them for causing a front-end clatter in my Honda engine compartment. It’s their roads that have caused this clunking. Pitted, potholed, and problematic. Enough so to cause a well defined clatter or rattle. Sounds like a loose motor mount or wheel strut. Most noticeable when driving over the city streets. Streets that the WPA must had forgotten to finish. They are post Depression rocky gnarly roads. You would think they were cobblestone or brick roads constructed in the late 1930s. If you follow the speed limit, one could easily bounce out of the car window. But anyway, Fred Flintstone probably laid the rock there. Even though, they appear to be paved. Paved with baseball size pits and zits.
Not sure how other people travel over these bouncy roads. One would need a four-wheeler with large oversized wheels and tires. A Jeep with a roll bar would be about right for these post dustbowl bumpy roads.
What is interesting we have a major state university in our little town. In which case you would think smooth roads would be in order. Especially since many of the students use Bird electric scooters and mountain bicycles. A scooter operator could easily be swallowed up in a single pothole. “Oh no! What happened to Willy Joe? He hasn’t been seen for several days. He was last seen on his scooter out on the street dodging potholes. Has anyone looked down in the holes?”
Find me an attorney. I’m going to sue the city for Billions of dollars. Bankrupt them for sure. I’ll get payback one way or another. Darn this city! Fix my Honda. Never mind it is twelve years old with 150k miles on the odometer.
It is more like Management Day instead of Labor Day.
My dad knew what work was. Having grown up on a farm where work was hard work he almost always grabbed work by the legs and wrestled it to the ground. When he was told to do something of a laborious nature he was out the door on the job before his boss could finish his work request. Having grown up on a farm he had the tenacity and muscle to tackle and subdue any job given him. My dad almost loved work. He would wrap his arms around it and bring it into submission.
But anyway, He and his young family left his small farm in Oklahoma in March of 1941 and migrated out to the west coast and settled in southern California. After a few days looking for work he met up with a company manager who could easily see a man who knew work. My dad was tall, strong, and feared not any work. So he put my dad on the job right away. And a few short years later my dad was promoted to plant supervisor and took on that task. The company he worked for was loyal to him and him to them. So for 39 years the company and he gave each other mutual respect. Something you seldom see today.
Even though he was management the union workers under him regarded my dad well. And he was most respectful to them. A few times when the union workers went on strike, my dad also benefited from their negotiations. Bothe in salary and health benefits. He knew what was given to the union workers would be return back to him. It was a good relationship.
But these days you don’t find this kind of give and take loyalty. Most unions have been forced out of business. State legislatures along with the help of the federal government have made it very difficult to unionize or participate in collective bargaining. Mostly driven by big company lobbyists. So the end result is much lower wages with little or no health benefits. Driving down the wage of the middle class worker. Plus management regarding workers as just chattel or indentured servants. So, Happy Labor Day. Work your butt off.
We need a trial separation.
There are just too many conflicting issues we are dealing with. It’s time to go our separate ways before things get worse. Issues that is almost irreconcilable.
And what I am suggestion is Texas must go its way and the rest of us suck it in and get along without them. We need a Texit. Something likes Brexit. Or some might call it secession.
I am just tired of their infidelity and careless politics. They know not of the common good. I’ve had enough of George W Bush, Rick Perry, and this fat headed blowhard governor Greg Abbott. Mental pigmies all of them. Just a bunch of blustering buffoons. Not knowing their anus from an anthill. Furthermore they can keep J R Ewing and the Lone Ranger. Plus they could take the Dallas Cowboys and shove it. I’ve had it with them. They can keep the Alamo and Six Flags over Texas and we here in Oklahoma will keep the Red River and Lake Texhoma. So there is the exit and don’t let the door hit you in the
butt.
Bla bla bla.
Dear MSNBC,
Recently viewing some of your MSNBC host’s interviews the interviewer kept talking over the interviewee. Making it difficult to follow the conversation. It almost seemed rude of them to do so. It is obvious to me that in these already confusing times to hear two clashing voices walking all over each other. And forgive me for being sexist but it has been mostly women. Women who do not realize there is a half second delay in the skype or zoom telecommunication causing a cross-over of voices. I notice Brian Williams, Lawrence O’Donnell and even Rachel Maddow remaining silent a second or two after the interviewee is finish. Making for a non-interrupted statement. So, my advice is to just shut-up until the interviewee is finished. I would have thought these few women’s program producers would have mentioned this fact to them. I guess in the excitement of the moment, they feel it an imperative to join in the blather. It is so obvious to the viewer/listeners. And don’t get me wrong it mostly happens to women interviewers. Women just don’t understand good production. But I’m not sexist. Really. Believe me. Why can’t they be like we men? Stop rolling your eyes.
Texas going back to Cave Man rules.
Returning to their cave.
What’s the matter with Texas? The governor and the legislature seem to be once again under the control of cave men. Absolutely coming from a different pile of rocks in the ground than its civilized Texas citizens. Big bushy hair state wonks returning back to a caveman status taking on an ‘Alley Oop’ persona. Low IQ men wielding big gnarly clubs and wearing leopard skin. Where do these guys come from anyway? Totally out of touch and certainly oblivious of the common good. But bent on forcing their narrow views. BLAM on the head. Do as I say or our fellow cave guys will bonk you. Do citizens in Texas really go along with this?
Dear women and girls, maybe we can send large military aircraft to Texas to ‘air lift’ you out of that problematic state. One could only hope.
Better yet, space aliens could come and air lift the gov and the legislature out of your magnificent state instead. Taking them to planet Zork and using the governor and his suck up minions as sex slaves. Whew! What an awful thought.
Why wait when you can say it or do it or buy it now?
I come from a long line of impulsive deciders. Why wait to think it over when we could just grab and run. If we take a moment to think about or put it off for another day we will often come back either empty handed or with an unfulfilled feeling. If we toss caution to the wind the impulse to do or say or buy now is almost like a sexual experience. A wonderful warm feeling occurs and lasts a few fleeting moments. Moments passing until you realize you’ve made the wrong choice. I can’t count the times I’ve done this. “But it feels so good.” Then later realizing how stupid the impulsive decision was. Did I really need this electronic whatzit? Did I really need to say something idiotic without serious thought? Then thinking about for a moment a feeling of moronism washes over me like a water hose in the face.
There needs to be a 12-step program for impulsive buyers or doers. “My name is Chuck and I am an impulsoholic. Yes, I am an impulsatator. I need help. Please talk me out of whatever it is I want right now.” If not take away all my credit cards or talk me down from my weaknesses in the heat of the moment.
Many impulsive decisions I have made quickly in the past became most regrettable later. Causing endless worry and regret. Causing countless hours of wasted time and anxiety. Almost causing a complete shutdown of time that could have been used for more constructive uses. Yes, I am a practitioner of impulsivism. Can’t wait for anything. Gotta do it now. Gotta buy it now. Gotta say it now before I forget it. So get out of my face! Oh. Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.
It’s all how you mitigate the story.
My job as Papa? Still narrating stories for my seven-year old granddaughter at bed time. But been accused of morphing the original Brothers Grimm Fairy tale narrative into something more like a Hanna-barbera cartoon. You know the two guys who came up with the Flintstones and Yogi Bear cartoon series. Well, why not. The original Brothers Grimm Red Riding hood and Snow White fairytale are more akin to a Stephen King horror, thriller. Certainly not something Mother Goose would portray in rhyme. My story reprocessing and sanitizing are meant for young sensitive listeners.
In the original Red Riding hood storyline it describes the nearby friendly Woodsman chasing down, catching, and disemboweling the conjuring wolf with a very sharp ax. Doing so in order to extract grandma from the mean wolf’s sliced open stomach. Then there was the obliging forester acting on behalf of the evil step-mother to bring back to her the heart of Snow White. . A bloody heart to be presented to Snow White’s stepmother as if it had belonged to Snow White. But instead the forester slaughtered a wild boar and cut out its bloody heart and presented that to the mean step-mother.
Really don’t think Granddaughter number 3 would fully appreciate such a horrific story. She might possibly throw up or wet her pants. So I ‘Looneytoon’ the story a little bit to make it more TV cartoon-like. So for an example Instead of the three bears eating dull tasting porridge made from ground corn and animal lard they ate oatmeal topped with brown sugar and butter. Much easier for a grandkid to relate to. In the case of Red Riding hood, more time is spent on a chocolate chip cookie recipe for Grandma than on a gory description of the evil wolf. But when I first told these stories to her back when she was about four years old she scolded me for not telling the real story the way it was read to her back when by her parents. She said, while sitting on my lap, “Papa, that’s not the way it goes.” Just crushing my fanciful innocuous presentation. Not to mention evaporating my delicate performance persona. Absolutely no Emmy award for this. No sir!
Working the gig economy.
What some people will do on the side to make extra cash. Some walk dogs, some drive for Uber, some deliver meals for Door-dash, some will haul off lawn and garden debris, some will shovel snow, etc. etc. All to make a few extra bucks on the side. Gig jobs sometimes help ends meet. A good way to possibly pay the rent and buy a few groceries as well.
My dad and his father did gig work off the farm back in the late 1920s. So gig work is nothing new. My dad told me he and his dad only did gig work to make extra cash. Which is to say if extra cash was not needed the two of them didn’t do ‘on-the-side’ work? But being farmers they often needed extra work that paid on the side.
So this is what they had to do to earn a little extra cash. It all started with a jaunt down into the ‘holler.’ A secret place into the thick woods. Many other farmers also had their own cash rendering work place down in the ‘Holler.’ Some farmers brought corn. Some brought other grains. And all farmers had their contraption akin to a science project. Boiling pots, coiling tubes, and spouts. Otherwise known as a ‘Moonshine still. My dad’s father would get the still cooking according to his own recipe. So my dad’s job was to monitor the cooking. Certainly a skill only known by a few. None the less, this gig would often pay off. The harder part was to find enough glass jugs to pour the recipe into in order to sell the magic elixir. This gig however bought a lot of groceries. See how this works now? Find a gig of your own and do it. It might pay your cable bill.
The Black and Whites showed up.
So here they came cruising in like they owned the place. Brash, fearless, and most present. Some call them Polecats. Those of us here in our little village call them skunks. Little weasel critters roaming about stinking up the place. Causing fear and anxiety. So we called in the Skunk squad. The lead skunk rustler baited and set traps. Overnight he trapped three of the little stink bombs. The next night he set them again and trapped two more Black and Whites. So all five were relocated out of town in a large wooded area. Far from our little Cohousing campus. A campus of seven acres and a creek running through it. A haven for critters. Which means we still have Opossums and squirrels. Critters munching on our veggie gardens. However I have discovered a book that has a recipe for Opossums. How about an Opossum noodle casserole? That along with potato salad and homemade French bread. Pass the A1 sauce please.
Chuck the Blogger Guy 