Lost And Adrift

The other day I was looking at some of the links to my webpage others have put up, and one of them said, “Creative Endeavors, Life Observations, Humor.”  I had never considered this a commentary on life, but it appears to have been labeled so by a few.

That is kind of nice.

Often in the morning, I sit here and try my best to come up with something new and refreshing for the day.  Every now and then I hit one over the fence, most of the time, I have to admit, I just try to get on base with a hit.  This morning, being no exception to the rule, I find myself sitting in front of an empty screen and wondering what it is that we will talk about?

This week I read an interesting book by Donovan Hohn, which was the true tale of 7,200 shipwrecked rubber ducks that rolled of the deck of a container ship in the stormy North Pacific about 15 years ago.  The ducks are not the story, only part of it.  It is about a quest in life, a passion that had to be fulfilled.  The author was so obsessed with finding out what happened to all these ducks that he quit his job as a English school teacher and set out to discover everything that he could possibly find out about these small lost rubber ducks.

Where they had been, where they are now, what was their final destiny after being shipwrecked.  That is passion my friends.  When was the last time you were curious, I mean “Really Curious” about something.  In my case, it has been awhile, I have to admit.

Following these ducks took him to the Northwest passage, Alaska, China and many places in between.  Who would have ever stopped to consider that chasing a flock of lost rubber ducks around the world, would lead to such a thought provoking work?  If you desire more information on this book, “Moby-Duck, The True Story of 28,000 bath toys lost at sea, you can find it at Viking for about $28.”

At 63 years of age, most of my passion in life, sad to say, has been used up.  I find that my get up and go, has gone and went, and my curiosity for the most part has peaked.  I am no longer thinking of moonwalking with Einstein, have lost the art of trying to remember everything that there is to remember in life, and lately, I have developed a little hitch in my giddy-up that tends to make me seek out the Aspirin bottle in the late afternoons.

Life … What happens when you are not paying attention.

When is the last time you stepped out of the box?  Ventured into something totally new and off the wall.  When was the last time you got truly excited about something that you were never excited about before.  If you are like me, it has been some time, an ocean of time.

I read where others struggle with this too.  Fun? Passion? Nope-nada.   Spending a little time on the net you can find other writers struggling with it too.  Are You Having Fun Yet?   No excitement in their lives, nothing left to shoot for, like my old man used to say, “I have done it all.”  I suppose that is the way of life sometimes, you cannot have your cake and eat it too, but a lot of us, would like it that way.

What is it about life that drains our passion, to the point, that we no longer even feel it remotely in our life.  What is it about life, that we no  longer wish to drink at the fountain of it, but rather just gargle.  Why is it that with age, we lose the drive the incentive to seek out new adventures, just sit back and do our best to be “just comfortable.”

I don’t know, I certainly do not have all the answers, most of the time, I have to admit, I don’t even remember the questions.

Perhaps I need to drive up into someone’s yard, get out of the car, grab one of their plastic lawn ornaments (Flamingo’s or such items) and take it on a trip around the world.  Photograph them in all these exotic locations (The Pyramids, Great Wall of China, Eiffel Tower) and make a scrapbook of it and return it (and the book) to its rightful owners a year later.  It is a neat idea, certainly nothing original it has been done before, just not by me.

What is it that I need?  What is it in my life, this inescapable “bucket list item” I have forgotten?  Do I need to find a seemingly impossible rocky crag and scale it … Locate one un-dammed river in this country and run it … Simply because they are there.  Perhaps it is time to make a road trip and burn some expensive fossil fuels.  Take my grand-kids on a trip and one more time, try and explain to them why history and why geographic monuments erected by the hands of man are important in this day and age.

Why Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, Tweets, Facebook and MTV are not.

Might be time to devote some serious time to study my root problem and find a solution.  Lay back in my hammock and take a well-deserved nap and consider something of an adventurous nature to do in the sunshine years of my life.  Which right now, seems to me, an impossible goal.

One constant in all this, and that is the weekend.

If it did not exist before now, I would have to invent it, because it is something that we all need.  A time to recharge, to readjust our priorities in life, or just “get away from it all” for a brief respite from what life has to offer.

Please enjoy yours, I am going to do my best to do the same on my end.


Back Of The Lot

kwTruckstop Elegies.

Back of the lot, the quiet part of the place, and I find myself once again swimming in familiar waters, I am at home here, I am at ease.  I used to be a trucker, although this breed here now, is totally different.

Been doing a little reading, some idle time staring out the window, relaxing.  I am finishing up on Management Principles of Attila The Hun and will move onto some other suitable written fare.

I have another waiting in the wings, “Snark:  It’s mean, it’s personal and it’s ruining our conversation.” Simon & Schuster, 122 pgs, about $16  written by David Deny.  It is about the Internet and the Cheap Shot everyone seems to want to take these days, may be pretty good, I will let you know.  Hey it beats the news, nothing good in the news here lately, except for Ol’ Shorty leaving town … He sure is taking a long time to say good-bye.

Nice to just be able to sit back and read a little, get away from the house, the television set, the barking dogs, and the ghetto bird (Police helicopter overhead). Weather is better here, not real cold, like up state in Oklahoma.

I am reminded of a trip about four years ago, some fifteen days in nature, a little over 3,000 miles and we NEVER turned the Television in the RV on one time. We just sit here in our old clunker and minded our own business, both of us into our rituals.  At peace with the world.

Ah peace — nothing quite like it.

Y’know, Attila was a pretty nasty dude, don’t believe I would like to be on his bad side. Nowadays, people don’t get really bad sounding names, it is just not “Politically Correct” or something.

You can no longer have a Alexander The Great, Or Napoleon the Conquer, Ginghus Khan.  We have George Herbert Walker Bush, George W. Bush, Jeb Bush, nothing all that spectacular about any of those.

I wonder how old Shorty will be remembered, he certainly will not come under the heading of “Great.”  That is for sure, most likely “George The Mediocre” or “George The Storyteller” something like that, I think “Scumbag” has been already reserved.

Will history be kind to Bush, will he get his famous moniker?  I suppose it is fitting, super-hero’s get the super names, and feckless politicians get the rest, it seems only right.  If Bro George did achieve the status of a Super Hero (very doubtful) he would be required to wear his underwear on the “outside” of his costume.

I would almost bet the farm on that one.

Any of you remember that episode of Sienfield where George Kastanza double dipped the chip?  In that episode Kastanza double dips this chip into some dip and this other guy observes him do it and then the hostilities begin.  Some amusing stuff.

Turns out that there could be some validation to the stopping of this practice.  Personally I feel as if double dipping your chip into the communal bowl is just not cool.  Preliminary results from an international study indicates that double dipping can transfer up to 10,000 bacteria from a partygoer’s mouth to the salsa or guacamole bowl.

So consider this, “if you are at a party, and you are contemplating taking part in the festivities and the dip bowl, look around the room and ask yourself, would I be willing to kiss everyone here?


Some of my friends are ragging me about “not calling them as much” and they have good reason, I am not using my cellphone all that much anymore.  We don’t have a land line, we have two cellphones, and that is it.  I keep reading all of these articles and studies on the cellphone and when I read that a Pittsburgh Cancer Institute recently warned all of its employee’s to stop the use of the phones or to cut back on their use because of brain tumors.  That was enough for me.  I am still using mine but it is on speaker phone and that is it, no more putting it up to the ear.

Better to be safe than sorry.

Anyone watch Sex In The City, a popular sitcom on television, believe they run it on Bravo Channel.  Then there is real life.  New Yorkers it seems are infected with STD’s and one in four have genital herpes.  Herpe’s is treatable, but once you get it, you are stuck with it, it doesn’t go away.  The virus can lead to bigger health problems.  Genital herpes will create a lot of sores in places that are, let us say are extremely uncomfortable, and it also fosters the spread of HIV.

Here is another new problem for men.  A recent study indicates that men do not perform well with “beautiful women” and contact with these beauties actually can lead to depression.  Looking at photos of models in bikinis in magazines such as Maxim and FHM made men feel unworthy of such beauties, and therefore inadequate and lonely.

Too many issues to deal with for me.

I am going to stay here in the Heartland and mind my own business, no sex in the city or Super Models for me, just the familiar Friday Night whining of “Why won’t you put on the Monkey Mask?  C’mon Honey!

That works for me.

Been getting a lot of email concerning God and religion here lately, evidently everyone seems concerned about my heathenistic attitude and are worried about what is left of my soul.  If you want mail, lot’s of mail, just put up something vaguely mentioning God and/or religion and you will receive your fair share of mail.  And some of it will be good — and some of it will be from the nut jobs.

Be ready.

The back doors of the Mt. Olive Baptist Church exploded, and the room filled with excitement almost instantly.  One lady stood up and shrieked at the top of her lungs, “It is Satan, the Devil is here!” And people got up and started running for the nearest exits, the windows, over the pews, crawling over little children in their haste to evacuate the building.

Down at the front of the church, in the second pew, sat one lonely soul.

All alone in the empty building now, he didn’t seem all that concerned about it at all.  The Devil walked down the aisle, stood next to him, peered down and said, “Do you know who I am?”

The little man looked up, and said, “I sure do.  You are Satan, the Devil, that is who you are.” So then Satan says to him, “Why didn’t your run with the rest of those cowards?”

The little man looked up and said, “Hey man, I been married to your sister, for forty-three years.”

Later, me and the duck are gonna go for a walk now.


Related: Hammer Down

Book Worm


If you were asked to, could you sum up your life in six words.

Think about it.

Six words.

There is a best seller out right now Not Quite What I Was Planning (Harper $16.95) that asks that very question.

The book is filled with six word phrases by the famous, and the not so famous, an interesting read.

Here are a few:

  • Joan Rivers, “Liars, hysterectomy didn’t improve sex life!”
  • Steven Colbert, “Well, I thought it was funny.”
  • Roy Blount, “Maybe you had to be there?”
  • There are countless examples in the book,
  • “Revenge is not living well.”
  • I wrote it all down somewhere?”
  • “Take a left turn, and then fly.”
  • On the playground, alone, 1970, today.”

I found it almost therapeutic in nature, a nice mull over on a cold winter day, lot cheaper than a couch session and a refill of Prozac.  Some of it is positive and with all things, some of it sad.  But it is still a good read, maybe something for the Christmas Wish List and that difficult person who you can never find the exact thing that is right.

Perhaps it is me, but I would rather fill my head with things of this nature, than to read the negative and the downtrodden thoughts of some idiot who has nothing better to do than poison pen every person on the net each day in some inane comments section.  It is stimulating and it gets me to thinking (often lifting me into a more positive frame of mind) about life.

What if today was your last day on earth?

Wouldn’t we tell our loved ones how much we really loved them, even though most of us rarely seem to get around to doing just that anymore.  In this age of super, instant communication, we still find ourselves distant and removed.

Wouldn’t we attempt to do something to make sure that we left the earth a better place than when we arrived?  If today was our last day, were there some items on the agenda that might help out someone that is less fortunate than you, that you might accomplish now?  Like maybe, giving away all of your remaining food to someone who was hungry?

On your last day …  Six little words.

“Outcast … Picked last.  Surprised them all.”

Check out the book it is a good read.



Sarchasm: “The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it.”

You know it just occurred to me, when Bush heads out, does the “Happy Trails to you, until we meet again!  Happy Trails to you, I HOPE you never win again thing.” When he leaves, that will be the end of “Bushisms.”  Unless his lil brother in Florida, Jebidiah happens to run.  We will be out of Bushisms for a long time.

Man, that is a scary thought, no Bushisms and Jay Leno leaving NBC all at the same time.  Talk about humor withdrawl, we are going to be in line for some serious boredom nationwide.  Kind of like the 8,000 sq mile dead-zone they just discovered in the Gulf Of Mexico recently.

Which actually did not come as all that big of a surprise to me at all.  I have been living in a house with a dead-zone for over thirty years now … It is my bedroom!  Yes it is true, boys & girls, no humor in America.  And you found it here … First.  Where is Andy Dick when you really need him?

Sorry, I digress.

I have over the years found Bushisms to be quite amusing at times and they also help me to ignore this ugly rash in my right arm pit that has been giving me problems lately.  Now I suppose we are in for a round of “Barackisms.”

Slate the Online magazine of which I am a big fan, have compiled a political primer just in time for the election season.  Obamamania the English language Barackafied paperback will help voters keep themselves “Barackupied.”  They are starting to put them up almost daily now.

Some examples:

  • Obombies.  Supporters who, through expressing unwavering support for Obama, are unable to name a single one of his policies.
  • Ob-la-di, O-ba-ma, life goes on.  The opinion that all is not lost if Obama fails to win the election.
  • Barackstar.  A favorite nickname that thousands of Obama supporters believe they came up with themselves.
  • Barackberry.  A means of staying in constant contact with all Barack Obama-related news.

Soon to be followed by “Things Younger Than John McClain” which should be out in August which will take a long hard look at things that are younger than McClain.  To name a few:  Alaska, area codes, McDonald’s, Bugs Bunny, and chocolate chip cookies.  Who knew?

(And you guys thought all I did was sit around all day long … This takes research people!  Research.)

As I am always in total bewilderment about the popularity of blogs in America, how things just suddenly spring up and take off, I will tell you about one of the latest.  The blog (not the book) thingsyoungerthanmccain.com, generated more than 250,000 hits within the first week it was created, and even McCain told Glamour magazine he found it hilarious.

Meanwhile back in the heartland of America, here I sit writing articles on how a smoke detector is not an oven timer and my wife’s cooking and no one shows up to read it.

Perhaps all of you that do stop by today to read my particular brand of insanity could just tell “three more people” about it, and then they would tell “three more people about it” and the first thing you know?

Well you know …. dont’cha?

I could write an article on “How I Was Arrested for Birthing a Ponzi scheme.”



  • 72 things younger than John McCain by Joe Quint, Fireside, $9.95 paperback
  • Obamamania The English Language Barackafied, Fireside, $9.95 paperback original.