Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II (morph sequence)
A woman’s entire life in just under three minutes.
Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II (morph sequence)
A woman’s entire life in just under three minutes.
As I understand it, one million dollars in twenty-dollar bills weighs about sixty pounds. Now this car insurance company is advertising on television that they “can save you a ton of dollars” on car insurance. Now 2,000 / 60 = 33 and some change, wow, $33 million dollars in savings and I am wondering, how it is that I am gonna pay the electric bill this month?
But alas, as with all things, there is a catch. They said they would save you a ton of dollars, not 20 dollar bills. So you will need to multiply the 33.33 x 20 and arrive at 666.6 lbs./million dollars. Therefore, a ton of dollars would be 3 times that, or 3 million dollars.
Mere Chump Change in today’s economy.
Unless you live in a cave, then you know that the Republican National Convention is on television and the entire circus is there for the viewing. So you have election, then Viagra (erection) and more election and Ciallis (erection). Election, erection, election ….. somebody is gonna get screwed is all I can make out of it. Congress has an approval rating of about 18% which is about the same as termites. Obama is so far out in right field, he doesn’t even know when to come in when the inning is over and I am really tired of all of it.
Where is Ross Perot when you really need him?
The first speaker of the night walked up to the microphone and then started into his jag about how the re-pbubs need to get tough and all this other garbage. And then he announced that they could see a light in the end of the tunnel. To which another gas bag yelled out ….. “Buy more tunnel!”
Isn’t politic’s swell boys & girls.
A Swedish man has been arrested for trying to build a nuclear reactor in his kitchen. He had been working on the project for about six months with nuclear materials he harvested from smoke alarms and old clocks. He said his goal was to see if he could split atoms in the home.
After triggering a minor explosion of sorts, he decided it might be a good idea to notify the authorities about his work. It also brought the police to his door, who promptly arrested him and I suppose after his release from jail, he will concentrate on the theoretical aspects of nuclear physics in the future.
Now for the local news.
Yesterday while mowing the grass for what I thought would be the last time this year, the lawnmower picked up a rock and hurled it thru the passenger side glass on my truck. That will cost me a hundred dollars if it isn’t a dime. Really ungood man, really ungood.
A man in Washington state fleeing police after a car crash doused himself in human excrement to evade police dogs. (Yeah I know, you think I am making this up, dontcha?) He allegedly was drunk when he backed his jeep into a condominium’s carport demolishing the structure. When police showed up to investigate he fled into a portable toilet and doused himself with a bucket of human waste. He later told police he thought the “dogs were coming, and he wanted to throw them off his scent.”
I am pretty sure they would have picked up on him right away.
Now everybody, all together now ……… Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewew.
A couple in Whitehouse, Texas, made a Facebook profile for their daughter Marriah, even though she’s yet to be born. Marriah, who already has 268 friends, spends most of her time “swimming,” the profile said.
This morning I am reading where the Mar’s Lunar Lander is now roving around the Red Planet and it is transmitting the sound of a human voice. I wonder what it is saying ….. “Hello I am from Earth, you have been chosen as a finalist in the Clearing House Sweepstakes! … Hello I am from Earth, you have been chosen as a finalist in the Clearing House Sweepstakes!”
So goes Wednesday, Hump Day for five day a week wage slave in the Red Fly-Over State somewhere west of the big city on the prairie.
A century ago, human life expectancy was 47 years of age. The speed limit on most roads was about 10 MPH. I don’t know what the price of fuel was back then, maybe a nickel, that sounds right. The average wage was about .22 cents per hour.
One out of every six homes had a bathtub, and only one out of every ten, had a telephone. Say … Did you know that the bathtub was invented some 74 years before the telephone. Think about it, you could have laid in there and soaked for three-quarters of a century and no one would have called.
Bet that would wrinkle your toes, eh?
Women washed their hair with egg yolks, Coca-Cola actually had cocaine in it. Johnny Carson was just starting out as the host of the Tonight Show. When you talk about old dirt roads, if you start every sentence with: “I remember when Coke’s were a nickel, seven cents (if you kept the bottle) and dogs could not vote.”
You are aging yo’self … Be careful. Many people who are familiar with the workings of the human mind, know how to manipulate us.
I will continue … The Do-Nut Shop isn’t open at this hour, and I feel this compelling urge to free you from your suffering, and awaken you to the transformational power that comes from expressing the old days in nostalgic terms.
Often the truth needs to be packed in great illusion. Just remember the simple rules of life, and you shall be okay, it works for me. Never play cards with a man named “Doc.” Never eat at a place named “Mom’s.” Never, ever, sleep with a woman whose troubles are worse than yours. And lastly, “Never, ever, start a sentence with the words, I remember when the earth was warm.”
(Dead Give Away)
Saturday was a laid back type of day for me, temperatures were compatible for a change, most everything that had to be done, was done. So I took a little time to sit back and just take it easy, a change of pace, a nice respite.
Enjoy one of those “dog-days of summer” is what I think they are called.
Got involved in something on Discover Channel, The Moonshiners, a documentary about these boys who lived in West Virginia and made illegal whiskey. Pretty interesting, so I settled in for a good afternoon of television watching and hopefully a little learning experience on my side of the country. All went well, I sat thru each episode until about six o’clock and then when supper bell rolled tolled, I set the DVR to tape the last two episodes of the show.
No big thang.
At least it wasn’t until around 8 p.m., that night when the power suddenly went out and stayed off till something like 2 a.m. the next morning! I don’t know how it is exactly that this always seems to happen. I will set the machine and then somehow, the universe lines up against me and I do not get the data or the information that I was seeking. It just seems so unfair. Having watched five episodes religiously, dutifully sitting thru commercial after commercial, I was deprived of episode #6 and #7 the season finale.
This of course, did not make my day.
Saturday was also our anniversary, we celebrated another year together, the bride and I. I suppose in this day and age, that is something to crow about, most folks do not stay the distance when it comes to matrimony these days in America. The wife is wanting to go on vacation, and I asked her, “where is it you are wanting to go?” and she said to me, “somewhere where it is warm and we can stick our toes in the sand.”
Then she said, “What do you think?”
I just smiled and said, “well with the price of motor fuel these days, we would be better off to just turn up the heat in the radiator and put our feet in the cat’s litter box.”
And then, what I often refer to as, the discussion, started.
That is the way it often goes in life, gentle, sweet compromise. Someone once said: “Love what you are doing, until you can do what you love. Love where you are, until you can be where you love. Love the people you are with, until you can be with the people you love most. This is the way we find happiness.”
To be honest about it all, there are times in life when my wife just does not understand me. I can accept that, it is all part of the grand plan I suppose. When I get down and out about it, I just open my spam filter and I find just what it is that I need.
“What i don’t realize is actually how you are no longer actually a lot more neatly-preferred than you might be right now. You’re so intelligent. You already know thus considerably relating to this subject, made me in my view imagine it from numerous various angles. Its like women and men are not interested unless itˇ¦s one thing to accomplish with Woman gaga! Your individual stuffs great. All the time handle it up!”
As I note the bottom of the page rolling up, time for me to depart … the rest of you … I release you to your respective duties at the beginning of this brand new week, just tailor made for you. Have a good day and don’t forget …. handle it up!
(I used to do that, but my mother said it would make me go blind, so I stopped)
“Social Commentary is of course, not always what it is cracked up to be.”
This week I received an email that said, “I had to read that thing three times before I got it!” and the writer went on to say how much he did not get it. That is the way it is with real life. Real life always makes you think about it, doesn’t it?
Please note I said, “it makes you think about it” and of course, I did not say “you had to believe it.” (Most of the time, I don’t get it myself)
Seven in the morning, here I sit, wading thru the clutter. So far, my world is a gentle blur of thoughts and idea’s, of which, most seem to be, not really panning out. Some days are often just like that. This morning I am thinking about the word “Social Commentary” it seems to qualify as some kind of new buzz word in our Lexicon.
My entire understanding of the world (my world, not yours) is based on my thoughts, which are generated by my emotions, which are generated by …. well, I guess by stuff that happens to me. At that point, or at least, at some point in the journey, I comment on it.
Look it in the concept of a huge mental filter. I weigh my options, I look over each and every emotion, event, and then make my decisions. Which is most likely, what you do too. Probably since we were infants, none of us have directly perceived the world we live in. First off, you need to remember, you need to know how to perceive something, this is important.
Back in the sixties, it was called “really into it” or “getting into it.” Today it is “wrapping your head around it.” I suppose this infers to mean to be totally with that thing, as opposed to observing and thinking about it. It’s a duality issue. Here’s me, here’s you. here’s me, here’s the sofa. Ya dig where this is going?
In my case, the sixties model works just fine.
Back in the day when we all were walking through life in a dream state that is, at best, a funhouse mirror-image of what was really out there. Now days, it is a much different ballgame, you get all these mixed signals.
For the life of me, I cannot figure out how “getting hit in the groin area of your body” on purpose translates into the term … Talent. I am of course talking about the show America’s Got Talent on NBC. Who is it that subjects us to this twice weekly dose of trash, what kind of moron is sitting at a desk in New York or California and dubbing this as entertainment?
I don’t understand that at all.
Here are a few more: Hunting Wild Hogs in Texas, My Redneck Vacation, Good Prostrate Health for the 21st Century, Drug Wars, Shipping Wars, Storage Wars … Sexy hair, yeah sure.
Stop the world, I want off.
Yesterday I read where a rapist was petitioning the court system for “parental rights” on a girl back east. I don’t understand that one, and most likely, the way things have been going here lately, the courts will proably grant it to him.
Has this country gone completely insane or is it just me?
I don’t understand if there is the huge glut of oil in the nation, so much now, that we are exporting it, then why is the cost of motor-fuel and diesel on the rise? Why a graduating senior who used the word “hell” in her commencement speech was denied her diploma, when every comedian in the world is dropping the F-bomb daily on just about any channel on television.
And in the spirit of the late Henny Youngman … I don’t understand my wife …. She says to me “Hon, what would make you happy? and I reply, “Kiss me in a place I have never been kissed.” And she gets that look on her face and says …. “Ft. Dodge Iowa?”
Thursday morning and I find myself on unfamilar ground … I am standing in the midst of a media forest of tree’s that I cannot see … I don’t understand that one, I don’t understand that one at all. But then again … Social Commentary is of course, not always what it is cracked up to be.
Here is what was hot on Creative Endeavors this week:
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This morning I am thinking about Arizona for some reason. I don’t know why. I suppose it is because it is such a beautiful state and a wondrous place to visit. Recalling a time, now long past, when we were there and life was good.
We are eastbound, just outside Holbrook, Arizona, and the wife notices this huge reptile looking thing, which seems to be running alongside the interstate. After a little detective work we discover that it is a advertisement for a place called the “Dinosaur Monument.” We find the exit and do our thing, slowly driving down the road, we note “truck parking” and then down the road, the main body of the place.
A small parking lot, a few cars, and a little guard shack off on the left.
I pull into the truck and trailer onto the lot, there is one tired old soldier sitting there, run of the mill Columbia Freightliner, all alone and by himself. I pull up, make a slow leisurely circle and then slide up next to the Freightliner. This is when I notice what appears to be a guard or a man, who seems frantic, running our way waving his arms in the air. Shut the truck down, opened the door and stepped outside, and this guy runs up to me and matter of factually blurts out …. “You cannot park there!”
So I look at him and I reply, “How you doin’ neighbor?” and again he repeats, “You cannot park there.” The urgency is still in his voice, the lack of authority seems to be missing, but you can tell he is clearly upset about this entire thing.
I stretch a little, always good to stretch, to take advantage of the stop, and I say to him, “What is the problem here my friend, I do not understand?” He then points at the behemoth I am parked next to, the old Freightliner, and says, “this lot is truck parking only sir.” I look over at Cup Cake and I smile, she rolls her eyes, she knows what is coming next, she knows what is coming down, this is not her first rodeo.
“No problem pardoner, this is a truck and a trailer.”
He then starts gesturing with his hands and arms and making huge circles out of thin air. Once again, clearly confused and very much not in control, he blurts it out ……… “It is a truck and trailer lot for big trucks” which a new or old Freightliner would surely fit the bill. Unfortunately, my standard sized pickup and trailer also come under that heading, truck/trailer.
“I agree,” is what I answer up with and add, “and this, this is a truck and trailer parked in a truck lot.”
This time clearly with a sense of urgency in his voice for the second time he says:
“YOU CANNOT PARK THERE!”
I look at him and I say, “So in other words, you want me to drive this rig down there (and I point at the main body of the place, the small lot with a few cars) and you want me to park down there, is that right?” He smiles, he has won, the point has been made, “Yes! Yes!” he says. We both meet and agree on a mutual point and he seems dramatically relieved to have solved this monumental problem. Graciously, I acquiesce to his request and ask of him, “Can I ask one more question before we do this?” and he says, “Yeah sure, what is it?”
“I was just wondering. When I get down there to that very small parking lot, it will be okay with you and those people down there when I take up five to six spaces in order to park my rig? Is that okay?” He seems temporarily knocked off balance and asks of me, “What are you talking about, I thought we had a agreement on all this.”
“We do, we do, no problem there” I replied, “We do. We sure do not have a problem on that. But this thing is 43 ft long, you cannot stand it on its head in order to park it, it won’t fit in ONE SPACE it needs five or six.”
Quickly doing the math required to make all this work, Mr. Security Guard decides that perhaps the best thing for BOTH of us would be to just let it set where it currently was residing. He says, “Leave it right there where you have it, that will work.”
About that time a shiny little beamer (BMW) with New York tag pulls up, the window comes down and the guy in the driver’s seat asks, “Can you tell me how to get to Monument Valley, Arizona?” So the security guard points at me and says, “Ask him.”
So briefly I poop the guy up. I explain just how it is, that you get there.
“Go west on I-40 until you see a sign that says #89 north, Lake Powell. That is your exit. You drive north of Flagstaff and you will come to a fork in the road, one road heads north to the Lake Powell area and the other road bends to the east, it will say Kayantah or some other Indian name, heading east the road now turns into #166 at that point. This will take your right into the main entrance of Monument Valley.”
The New York couple thanks me and then they head off west. I look at the security guard and I say to him, “why didn’t you tell him how to get there, you live here.” He shrugged his shoulders and then said, “Hell, you seem to know everything else I figured you knew that too.”
Next time I will tell you about the couple we met at the Painted Desert by paying their entrance fee for them (told the gate guard to pick up the guy behind me, who we did not know). Turned out to be some pretty interesting people.
Life is short … Enjoy the Ride
Let’s pretend for a second here, that we could be something, anything, we want to be. That we could radically change our present circumstance to anything we want it to be, to be able to change our present status in life to something totally new and different.
To be the NEW you that YOU want to be.
If given the chance, a vast majority of us, would do it in a heartbeat. This might be why a large segment of the population in this country relate so well to Hollywood and movie personalities. It gives us a little chance to live vicariously thru other people (actors and characters) for a short while and escape the rigors that modern day life has to offer.
Let’s face it, most of us live lives of quiet desperation.
We all secretly wish to be someone else, to be something else, we are as the younger generation puts it a bunch of …. “Posers.” We make a mental note each day of things we want to improve, things that we want to change, and yes, people we admire and want to be. We are so bad at this, that an entire industry was formed around the very idea of the quick note.
During my career on the railroad we had a select group of people that followed us everywhere we went. They were armed with cameras and radio scanners, they knew just about every aspect of our working lives. They didn’t do it, they just thought they knew everything about it, they for lack of a better word, studied every aspect of our daily duties, our career.
They were also quick to tell you that they were “rail buffs.” We on the other hand, called them “Foamers,” because each time they saw a train, they kind of went all glassy eyed and freaked out. The sight of GP35 or a SD40 took them over like a rabid dog, thus, the term “Foamers.”
This is just one example of a poser … someone trying to be something else, a person living thru you.
In the bus community (people who own and restore old buses) have a term for it, those folks who dream of owning a bus, who want a bus, they are called “wanna-be’s” and those folks new to the lifestyle are called “newbies.” They even have folks residing with them that do not own a bus, but still consider themselves bus people, fact is, I don’t know what to call someone like that. Hopeless Dreamer comes readily to mind.
One very popular show on television is Extreme Home Makeover. A very popular television series featuring a new abode, with brand new stuff, and of course, higher taxes. Who amongst us hasn’t secretly pined for a shot at that. Those of us who sit around during the slow part of the day and dream of castles in the sky, a new place to hang our hat. (Hey what the ____ it beats working right?)
Then there is the movie thing that we seem to be obsessed with.
A movie that quickly comes to mind is Somewhere In Time. The ability to go back in time, to a much happier period, perhaps one less stressful, where you do not have to dress for success. That special niche in time where you do not have to kiss a part of the boss, the part he sits on most of the day, in order to get by.
Face it, most of us don’t need any of this. We don’t really need another chance to be something that we are not, because that would waste the unique individuals that most of already are. What we need is a do over. Perhaps one more shot at the now dead American Dream.
Having ample time to stop and consider my present station in life, I have come to one solid conclusion about all this. I don’t favor Robert Redford, another Dustin Hoffman I am not, there is only so much room for industrial hero’s like Donald Trump, Warren Buffet (the ultimate train buff) or Lee Iaccoca. In other words … Don’t waste a makeover on me, that is a total waste of time, I am what I am, pretty much locked into that.
No need for a Make Over here … What I really need is … A Do-Over … one more swing at all this, and I promise Lord, this time I won’t screw it up.
Jackson Hole Wyoming …. The stillness of the morning wraps around me and the warmth of the coffee cup in my hand, helps me to appreciate what the road I have traveled, has brought me to this morning. The hard bench of the picnic table seems like only a minor inconvenience as I soak up the grandeur of Jackson Hole, and this wonderful spring like morning. High up in the branches of a stately lodgepole pine, I hear the familiar call of a Blue Jay and all is well in my world.
My life seems serene and circumspect, and then the GM Diesel in the old 4107 roars to life! Blue smoke diesel exhaust fills the air, and like a gentle fog, engulfs everything in sight.
Damn old bus I think to myself, “I wish he would just leave.”
That is the bad thing about early risers, they fire up at just barely the crack of dawn, and if they are driving some poorly maintained exotic relic of the late forties or fifties, they do not have any air pressure at all. So they will run the old bus for what seems like a lifetime, before they are ready to release the brakes and leave the campground.
This in turn, does not make us many friends in the community of man.
I used to hate old buses with a passion, I did not care how slick they were or how many hours the operator had put into them, to me they were smoke belching monsters that ran far too long in the campground before they finally left. I really disliked them because they were noisy and I was often still sleepy.
Many a time found me not a big supporter of bus folk. Their loud pipes, noxious fumes and seemingly callous attitude toward other campers did not enamor me to them at all. That school of thought was fostered mainly because I did not understand the methods and benefits of good maint. and the headache and anxiety of bad air lines.
Now days, it is not so bad, I understand buses and bus people a little bit more than I used to. This kind of makes me a little sympathetic to their needs.
Daddy’s Hobby our bus, can sit for several days and still fire right up and move out, immediately, because it doesn’t have a whole lot of air leaks and will hold a ready supply of sail boat fuel whenever I need it.
Another thing changed.
They say old habits are hard to break, and to some point, that is true. I no longer get up early and hit the road to get a good start on the day. We kind of linger a little, sip on the coffee, sit around and while away the time, watch the parade out the front gate, and when we are ready, we fire it up and we leave.
So here it is, the take away, where the rubber meets the road. I have found out, albeit somewhat late in life, that if you are in a hurry you should not be driving a bus. If you don’t want to make new friends and impress the locals, you leave at a decent hour.
And if you can, you try your best to route yourself thru Jackson Hole, Wyoming, because it is a really neat place, and worth more than one visit in this lifetime.
Watch those right handers …