Why We Vote …


Let me see if I have this right … If I understand this when the above had it (the Native American’s) they owned all of the land, and they did NOT pay taxes on it.  The women did all the work, and all the warriors had to do is hunt and fish.

Every now and then they were conscripted to go fight the White Eyes, baby and squaw killers or another tribe.  But face it folks, “that is the American thing to do.”

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It’s About Time … Off The Wall

10561597_10204674105265315_8484038910465730662_nSpring!  This is the time of the year when I put the lawn-chair furniture on the front porch and soak up the best parts of the day. 

This morning I was out there early, real early, sitting in the still of the morning, before the sun had come up.

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Taxing Issues

Okay, this is NOT funny, who sent me this email?

Mr. Smith, I just wanted to read you something from the Internal Revenue Code. It is the last sentence of section 509A of the code: “For purposes of paragraph, 3, an organization described in paragraph 2 shall be deemed to include an organization described in section 501-C-4, 5,6, which would be described in paragraph 2 if it were an organization described in paragraph 2 if it were an organization described in section 501C-3.”

Now “that” was not funny. No sir.

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Indian Winter

The votes having been counted, it was noted that the tribe had a new chief.  He was a young chief, not versed in the ways and rituals of the tribe.  He stood before them and promised that he would do the very best that he was capable of as their new leader.

One brave asked him, “Chief, will we have a bad winter?”

The new chief, not really knowing, said to him, “Me tell you tomorrow.”  That night, he called the U.S. Weather Service and inquired about the weather, the man on the phone said to him, “Right now, we are not all that sure.  Cut firewood.”

So the next day, the new chief assembled the tribe and said to them, “Winter cold.  Cut firewood.”

A month later, the same brave, same question.  “What will winter be like this year?” again the new chief tells him, “See me tomorrow.”  He then again calls the U.S. Weather Service in Santa Fe New Mexico and they tell him, “We are not sure.  Cut firewood.”

So again the new chief assembles everyone and tells them the same news, adding “cut more firewood.”

Two months goes by and it turns a little bit nippy, the leaves have fallen from the tree’s, there is a little frost on the pumpkin early in the morning.  Again the tribe member inquires about the weather, again the new chief tells him to see him tomorrow.  He dials up the number, and makes the inquiry.

“What winter be like?”  The man at the U.S. Weather Bureau on the other end says, “We aren’t sure, but it may get really bad, all these Indians around here are cutting firewood like crazy!”

Turning cold, old man winter is just around the corner.  I can tell as my old bones tell me so every morning when I roll out of bed.  It has gotten so bad, that now I find, different parts of me are waking up at different times.  We had some arctic cold move thru here over the weekend.

Let it be known, “I am not a Big Fan of Wintertime.  No Sir.”  This is the time of the year when you start having problems with your skin, it dries out, things start itching on you, you catch yourself scratching parts of your body that you have not seen in five years.

One thing you can do to avoid dry winter skin is to not take hot showers.
Long, hot showers strip the skin of essential oils.
You can also switch soaps.
Use something that is not all that harsh.
Wash only what needs washing (the stinky parts) and let the rest of it go.
This will not make any points with the little woman, but we are talking survival here, not affection.
Use more moisturizers, I prefer the pump kind in the bottle, but I have been told they are not good enough to get the job done.
You need thick moisturizers.
The hard, thick creamy jobs, it should have a sort of Vanilla Milk Shake texture.
You can also increase the indoor humidity of your home in the winter.
And lastly, if none of this works for you, you can move to Arizona or Florida.

Tomorrow boys & girls, we will show you how to make a therm-o-nuclear device out of ordinary household cleaners found around the house, don’t miss it.  (I know I am really looking forward to it)


Old Dirt Road

Old Man Winter is not far off, I can feel it in my bones.  Noticed yesterday on the return trip from town that all the tree’s are starting to turn.  Winter is just around the corner, I know it is so, didn’t we just fiddle with the clocks, aren’t all the songbirds missing from the yard?

I am not ready.

Was looking thru some old photo’s and it shows the road in front of the house as  a dirt road.   And it got me to thinking about how things have changed.

A century ago, human life expectancy was 47 years of age.  The speed limit on most roads was about 10 MPH (about the speed of a brisk walk), 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 … Figure that one out Class of ’81.

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.  When you speak in generic terms, you open a floodgate of emotion for them to abuse you with.

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.

Speaking of terms?  I learned a new one this week (nice blend eh?).

It is “Skookum” a term from the Chinook Indians that is still used in some parts of British Columbia and the Northwest.    It means:  “in cahoots with good spirits and completely made for the job.”  Wikipedia suggests that when you’re skookum, you’ve got a clear purpose and are standing in your power spot.   Which may or may not work for me, it has been so long since I had any kind of power, I have forgotten where to hook up the jumper cables.

Just remember Boys & Girls, often the truth needs to be packed in great illusion.

Just recall these 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)

Please remember today is Veteran’s Day, what you have, what you enjoy, it was all bought and paid for at a great cost, a sacrifice was made, so that you might be able to live this life you have.  It was bought by a Vet …  Freedom as they say … Is not free.  Take some time today to reflect on that will you?

If you wish to know more, trot over here to this site, Ava Aaston.wordpress. com and read someone else’s take on it.


Shop till ya drop

helpMr. Obama has announced that the economy is going to be one of his first priorities in the coming new year.  And I sincerely believe that is great.  We need to have a strong and robust economy and jobs to come home to when the boys come home from oversea’s.

It is also imperative that we insure that political promises are kept and find a way to extract ourselves out of this illegal and wasteful conflict in the Middle East.

We need to bring the boys home.

Why is it that I am always without fail in the line at the bank where the patron before me has more than one transaction?  Yesterday I am at the gas station and there it was.  $1.55, $1.65, $1.75 and that was just the price of the candy bars, Twinkies and the Ding Dongs!  This country has gone totally nuts!  Later on I am over at China-Mart and the lady in front of me writes a check.  Can you believe that?  A check!

That is like people who drive a AMC Pacer or Ford Pinto for cryin’ out loud.

If you are writing a check in this day and age of credit cards, bankcards, debit cards, you are like a brown pair of shoes in a Black Shoe/Tuxedo World.  And if you want to read a well written piece on this subject, follow this link. >>>

So back to this gal, she looks at the clerk and says, “I know it is in here somewhere (she is fishing around in this incredibly huge thing that kind of looked like a Boy Scout backpack for her drivers lic), I had it before I left the house.  I KNOW I had it at the house … Oh my, my, mercy me!  Every time I come over here I do this” and then she looks at me for I guess conformation of her dilemma.

I sigh, and reply, “Yeah, and I am the poor sap that is always standing behind you.”

Men have no patience … Can I get an Amen on that … Are you out there?

I’m working on it girls, I really am.  Well, now that I have once again, shot myself in the foot with my own gun, I will move on.  Why is it when you are watching television and there is nothing on, when you reach the end of your eighty channel limit, you go back through the entire thing again?  Are you hoping that something interesting came on in the last fifteen seconds, is that it?

(If you are reading this alone at home and you read it out loud to yourself and do your best to whine like Andy Rooney, it sounds really cool …. C’mon try it!)

How do you get an overnight letter when the Post Office closes at 5 PM, I don’t get that one either.  The one that really gets me when you get a call from some highly inebriated person at 3am in the morning and they say, “Did I wake you up?” to which I reply, “Naw, I had to get up for my paper route anyway.”

So despite my better judgment I am watching this piece of trash the network executives call programming and the Governator Of Caliyfornyuh is making fun of Mr. Obama’s legs, saying they are “skinny man legs” and generally speaking “ridiculing the president elect of the United States.”  No civility left in this country anymore and no one has the guts to tell these people “be quiet.”  Now we all know why Californyuh is like a Granola Bar.

What aint fruits is nuts.

So I am down on the river and I have my MP3 player, riding along, trying to adjust “my numbers” as the doctor calls them.  And Neil diamond comes on, which is what every old guy in America wants to ride his bike to, and he is singing …. “I am I said” … and then he gets to my favorite part, he warbles out …. “I am I said, and no one answered me, not even the chair.” What the hell?  What in the world does that mean?  Talking furniture … Uh Mr. diamond, your easy boy recliner is on line #2.

Tomorrow I am choosing a different play list for sure.

Another Oklahoma Indian tribe is going into the cigarette business.  The tribe is building a two million dollar cigarette plant up in Eastern Oklahoma, supposed to be making something like 20 cartons a minute when it is up to full speed.  If this isn’t poetic justice, I don’t know what is.  The Red Man gets even in the end and the government that subdued them doesn’t do too awful bad either.  The fed’s will get two dollars off of each carton made.

Billions a year in revenue from Indian Casino’s and now this … I surrender.

A 17 year old Amish boy in Akron Ohio was charged with D.U.I. after he passed out at the reins of a buggy and crashed into …. Get this … after he crashed into a police cruiser.  The boy further enraged the police when at the station; he insisted that he didn’t know what it meant to get “one phone call.”

What goes “clop-clop-clop-bang-bang?

An Amish drive by shooting.

And you thought crime was bad.  New statistic’s released by the government indicate that 76 million Americans are sickened by food poisoning each year, with some 325,000 hospitalized and 5,000 killed.  Officials blame poor food preparation in restaurants, and have launched a public awareness campaign featuring the slogan “Did Someone Say Food Poisoning?

You just got to love the government, you know it, you just have to.

No word from McDonalds who is planning on capitalizing on this by offering a “Happy To Be Alive Combo” look for it at franchises in your area.

Such is the pageantry of life this day.

Some of us seek the anesthesia of escape that is certainly true of me, I hang onto the dream of a life on the American Highway.  Some of us seek the validation of everyone-thinks-alike media tailored to one ideological or political mindset, and hate with a strange newly acquired passion, those who are not of the same tribe as they.

We all separate into our niches, shredding the fabric of our common future.  I am sorry but I miss the America of my youth, even with Viet Nam it wasn’t this bad.  I don’t want to leave my grandchildren a lousy third world debt ridden piece of real estate … I want to leave them a shinning legacy.

And this isn’t it.

In the words of Rodney King, “Can’t we all just get along?”  It rings in my ears, it resonates in my soul.  This is a profound and wonderful country, and it is up to us, to make it all work.

We can do this thing.  I don’t give two hoots in you know where what the Governator of Caliyfornyuh sez.