Bombing The Neighbors …

Let there be fire

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. 

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Big Sky

13 on the floor!  The other one out the door … Hammer down, Hammer down! 

This time of the year is terribly hard on a guy, especially a guy who has the wanderlust gene like myself.  I want to get out and roam, although I know that this is no longer a reality, it is not possible in this day and age.  So I fritter the days away sitting on the porch and I find other ways to amuse myself, like wondering, “What is the longest English word you can type with only the left hand?”


Important issues like that.

Spring time.  Back in the day I would find myself lying on a blanket with some sweet thing and we would be whispering into each other ears, sonnets and secret phrases, but alas, they are gone too.  Now I wonder if the old air conditioner will make it thru another season?  How much water I am going to have to put on the lawn this year, to green it up and keep it that way.  Why women find it impossible to sleep in a bed that has a fan blowing across it.

I secretly pine for Montana, it is never far away in my thoughts, often just around the corner.  The pale blue sky opening up over Bozeman seems to stretch forever.  The air is fresh and clean at the top of Bear Tooth Pass outside Red Lodge and the roads empty before, now most likely are bare altogether.  A long BNSF freight racing across the land at breakneck speed to Chicago, clear water streams and long hot summer days.

In the summer, you can drive across southern Montana and the haystack dotted farmland seems to roll on and on forever.  You drive by the small outfits, and they haul out to the front fence, what they have to sell.  Worn out, beaten up pickups, a combine here and there, well used tractor an old motorhome, whatever.

I have driven on two lanes so striking, so majestic and mesmerizing, hauntingly familiar, that you swore they were objects of art.  Rolling green sea’s of prairie grass, visions of Native Americans, stampeding horses, bison and of course, cowboys taming an unruly bronco fill my mind.

You would not expect anything less of someone who’s favorite western is “Dancin’ With Wolves.”

Eye candy for the soul is how I always seem to refer to it.  A place in time, that lingers in your mind and often helps you thru your day.  Distant roads are calling me.  Through scenery so spectacular that much like a fine oil or a colorful print hanging on the wall it takes your breath away.  The mood and the feel of the land permeate your soul in big sky country, the home of Louis and Clark, the chisled Grizzly.

I yearn to roam.

The old time towns and the architecture mixed with the new style trendy restaurants and galleries of the new west.  Pickup’s with gun racks,  Small detailed dream catchers hanging from the rear-view mirror, a blue healer dog in the back, one stop light at the end of the block.

And always, a canvas of baby blue (sky) right above you.

Man, I hate living in the city.


CHROME  Catch you on the flip-flop

Summer Ends


Not being a big fan of October, I put up the Hammock this week.  I sure hate that, along with all the blood & gore associated with television this time of the year.  October is the Devil’s Holiday, or at least it seems that way.  People cutting up people, biting each other’s necks, the constant din of chain saws invading my space.  Who needs that?

Where is Forrest Gump when you really need him?

It is hard to keep your equilibrium this time of year.  Last week I was in a Cracker Barrel restaurant, and they had Halloween stuff on one side of the store and Christmas stuff on the other.  October is a real mood swinger let me tell you.

If you cannot tell by now …. It has been a lousy week.

Some folks refer to it as one of those “maybe I should have stayed in bed” kind of weeks.  Middle of the week, I tried to download a ring-tone for my phone. Figured if I had George Strait or Reba singing to me in the tire-shop, it would make me impotent, er, important. Cost was $3.99 and when I got done, I was way over twelve dollars!  Guess I am just technically challenged or impaired.

One of my biggest fears in life, is the fact that I will someday die, and when I get to the pearly gates, an angel will ask …. “Screen name and password please.”

Uh …. huh?

Cooler in the morning now, summer is but a faded memory, git ready. Weather guessers are saying we are headed for a big weather change. I do notice that the days are getting shorter, takes the sun longer to come up in the morning, winter is setting in. No songbirds in the yard and all my winged friends have gone south, I feel neglected and alone.

Boo! Bet I Scared You ha-ha


A definite chill in the air and football on the tube. Soon to be sitting down to a sumptuous meal and video clips of Dallas losing again on ABC.  Raking a big pile of leaves in the backyard and watching the grandson delight with glee when he skillfully hides himself from his little sister.  Using the automatic car wash now instead of doing it in the wash bay yourself.

The rest of the time it is windy.

To add to the misery it is an election year, and we all know the name of that tune don’t we?   Leadership you can trust … integrity restored … a chicken in every pot … Ad nasauem.

(In other words … Grab Your Wallets)



Today here is my DVR reality. Ax-Men marathon, a couple of hours of sawing and multiple tree-felling, cussing so frequent that every other word seems to be bleeped and it ends up being a chain-saw fed mess of incomprehensible mayhem, truly male television at its best.  What a testosterone rush … Tune me in.  Which even on a bad day is still better than watching some ghoul get a stake driven into his heart.


Cartoon courtesy of American Progress

Another Canicular Summer Day

Going to get hot today, might be time to find a shady spot and get in it.  Oklahoma is that way in the summertime, hot and muggy.  El Ex-Presendente Mr. Bush came and gave his speech in the Oklahoma Panhandle this weekend, he is currently stumping all the Dairy Queens and 7-11 stores across the nation, watch your local paper for another appearance by him soon.

I suppose he said something brilliant like:  “I’ve reminded the prime minister … the American people, Mr. Prime Minister …. Over the past months, that it was not always a given that the United States and America would have a close relationship.”

Spoken like a true national spokesperson if I ever heard one.

Grandbabies have packed up and headed south, they live in Houston, Texas.  It is always interesting when they are here, listening to them talk, what they say, the questions they ask.  All part of the growing up process.  I am so happy that they do not live in Florida.

Florida prison officials are apologizing for using 50,000 volt stun guns on children on Take Your Sons and Daughters to Work Day.  State corrections officers report that 43 children were stunned at three separate prisons, most with their parent permission.  Never the less, I cannot imagine what these people were thinking to administer this device to children.

The thing that got to me was the article said, “most” of them with parental permission, does this mean that “some” didn’t want it, but got it anyway?

Pretty sick, no matter how you color it.

New word for the day boys N girls, are you ready?  HETEROPATERNAL SUPERFECUNDATION.  Now that is a mouth full.  This is a totally new word that was put into the dictionaries here lately in Texas after a woman gave birth to two twins that had DIFFERENT DNA and she admitted to have been sleeping with two men when they were conceived.

Learn something new every day ……

A small Spokane, Washington, distillery developed a small army of volunteers to bottle and package its vodka and gin for NO pay, as long as they get free shots of the products and the end of their shift.  It has grown quickly by word-of-mouth (the best advertising in the world) and has become very popular.  I worked for an outfit for over twenty-four years, and all they ever gave me was a paycheck and a hard time.

The current debacle over the Michael Jackson death continues, all the tabloids have jumped on it, and every stupid commentator in America has an opinion on what actually or really went down.  I just cannot fathom America’s obsession with celebrities and the fact that they almost canonize a drug addict and do their best to elevate him to sainthood.

Meanwhile, down in Texas (again), a couple reported finding a Cheetos cheese snack that bears a strange resemblance to Jesus.  They are currently trying to sell it on Ebay and claim that “if it only brings .25 cents, we’re going to eat it.” Now if that don’t bring a tear to your eye, nothing will.

I see where Congress has passed legislation on the credit card companies and they cannot raise interest rates unless you are 60 days in arrears, and have to put the rate back down, if you make your payments for six months on time.  No more penalties on borrowers who exceed their limits on their cards.  And they have to give your children back to you when you pay up.

Of course the credit card people countered with “they would be FORCED to issue fewer cards, and credit would be harder to come by, and the economy would suffer because of this.”  Which in essence means, no more mail solicited cards to dogs and cats, 4 year old children and whatever.

It is awfully hard for me to feel sorry for these bozo’s, who charge 37% on their money, but pay you less than 1% on YOUR MONEY in savings accounts in their institutions.

Here you go …. It must be true, I mean, I read it in the tabloids.

I am standing at the checkout counter at the local China-Mart and there it is.  An ingenious North Carolina teenager allegedly brandished a banana rather than a gun while holding up a store then he tried to eat the evidence.  The 17 year-old tried to rob an Internet Café with the fruit held beneath his shirt, but the staff overcame him, said the police.  He did manage to eat the banana, but failed to eat the peel, which the police duly photographed and took into evidence.

It has to be Monday … It just has to be.


First and Ten

Late at night, the quiet time of the morning, most of you are still asleep. I am sitting here in my underwear thinking about milkshakes, did you know the average fast food milkshake contains over fifty chemicals? I am somewhat partial to Strawberry myself.

(Now if that doesn’t create a vivid mindset, I don’t know what would?)

As it is no big secret around here that I am not all that big a fan of football, where millions of Americans tune in each week to see some guy lay on the ground with a bone protruding from his body while they perform the wave, I have to find other avenues to amuse myself, such as this. Late night rambling and luke warm, micro waved coffee.

Often I will throw some “Oldies But Goodies” from Time Life Collection (not available in stores, only thru this TV offer), crank up the CD player, make an occasional foray back to the sixties in my mind or a trip to La-La-Land as my shrink used to call it.

As Frazier Crane on Cheer’s used to say …. Find your happy place, are you there? The things I do to stay in contact with my inner self.

Tonight or rather this morning, as I ponder another insane football season, having just barely recovered from a summer of suffering thru the Olympics, my mind drifts back to the fall of some year in the sixties (does it really matter which year?) when I was a student at La Vista Junior High school (Where the leaders of tomorrow are developing the Pimples of today!) on the left coast of America (California).

With all this border-line insanity presently taking place in America what is being substituted for regular fare each day, I feel stressed and I yearn for something different.

Hopeless Romantic? Unbridled Dreamer?

Call me what you may … but life back then in my perspective … was better than it is now. In those days the absolute worst crime that I had committed in my life, was possibly riding two on a bicycle, packing my buddy on the handle bars and getting my very first traffic citation from a cop at the ripe old age of thirteen. Starting my first encounter or a long and close relationship with the law enforcement personnel around the country up and until just recently.

Life was good … Junior High School was a gas.

Not a lot of stress, show up, do the drill, smoke a butt in the bathroom at recess and eat lunch. My biggest contribution to life at that time was shop class, where one year I made an ashtray! Now don’t laugh, these days it is considered a “lost art.” The following year, I made a set of bongo drums to the delight of my mother. The sixties were good to me, perhaps why I don’t remember a lot of stuff to this very day, but that is not what this piece is about.

As a matter of fact, as usual, I don’t have a clue as to what this piece is about.

Not really sure, I believe we are talking about “fun” not my latent dependency on chemical pacifiers in my youth. What did we do for fun in those days? What was life like before computers, video games, Rock N Roll, drugs and cheap sex? Before McDonalds, The Mall, before man landed and stepped on the face of the moon? I do vaguely remember those days, but I do not remember what it is that we did for fun.

Cutting class and sneaking down to the sippy hole and going for a dip in the late afternoon without the benefit of trunks or Speedo’s. Fun was watching television at your girlfriend’s house during a power failure. Forget that soft warm puppy stuff. Pinching a watermelon from Old Man Simon’s watermelon patch on late Saturday night. Sitting around in a parked Chevy at the Dairy Queen entering into deep discussions on why French Fries gave you zits and why Clearasil really doesn’t seem to work when you are sixteen years old.

Fun, believe it or not, is a progressive thing; you learn it as you go.

Now when I was a small lad, I remember I used to pull the ears on my sister’s dog for fun. Back in those days that was okay for a latch key kid to amuse himself. Before all you dog lovers send something to my mailbox, don’t get all riled up that was just a suggestion really, I actually loved the mutt and used to slip him table scraps of liver and bacon, which more than likely lead to his early death due to obesity in or around 1965.

If I was perhaps trying to gross you out, I could have suggested that we used to go down to the creek, catch frogs, bring them back and feed them to Mama’s geese and that was considered fun. But as I am not from Alabama or someplace that has a lot of frogs, so this is not quite believable either.

Not really being all that sure, I believe it some circles it is called literary license or something like that. My mama lived in Hayward, California (in the San Francisco Bay Area) not exactly a prime area known for the raising of geese and other farm animals.

Fun was running around the yard, barefoot in the summertime, catching fireflies and then smashing them on your finger to “make a ring” in the dark. You ever get the distinct impression that most of my childhood was truly violent and was consumed with evil plots and schemes … Yeah, now you are getting the picture.

You see … Little boys are everything that is suggested …. Little Monsters that grow up to be men … Dirty Old Men. Yeahsus! Now let’s get loaded and go shoot some crows!*

That beats sitting around watching football any day.


* No actual crows were shot or harmed during the writing of this article, any resemblance to anyone alive or dead who shoots crows for sport is purely coincidental, this post has been edited and shortened to fit into the space provided, any reprint of this article is strictly prohibited by the NFL.

PARTING SHOT: “No one says “It’s only a game when their team is winning.”

August – Bucket List

Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

When a woman wears a leather dress, A man’s heart beats quicker, And his throat gets dry, He goes weak in the knees, And he begins to think irrationally.  Ever wonder why?

Because she smells like a new truck

Watched a new movie this weekend, “The Bucket List.”  Pretty good.  Do YOU have a bucket list?  There’s something about having one that makes me feel like I can actually DO them all before I die. And it reminds me of all the fun goals that exist outside of work and family. Sky diving off the Grand Canyon, here I come!

Then there are the doom-Naysayers who say, what a waste of paper. Nothing says ‘don’t forget about DEATH’ quite like a bucket list. Why remind yourself of all the things you surely WON’T be able to do before your time comes? Better to live each day the best you can than set lofty life goals.

9 out of 10 people do not believe Steve Fossett is dead, but believe he faked his own death.

A clumsy criminal has left his driver’s license on the counter of the Townsville video store he robbed of cash and cigarettes. Police said the man was pretending to purchase DVDs at the Civic Video when he jumped the counter and grabbed cash and cigarettes before fleeing.  Police said he dropped his driver’s license and “other identifying material. Not the brightest criminal we’ve come across,” one policeman said.

Last heard … He was still to be found.

WASHINGTON BUDDY FILE – Cellphone calls on airplanes in flight are unsafe and obnoxious and should be banned permanently, according to some members of Congress.   House members, most of whom board airplanes almost every week, traded horror stories July 31 about their worst experiences with annoying fellow passengers who talk loudly on cellphones before takeoff and after landing. One lawmaker said his wife sat next to a woman who loudly discussed her sex life on the phone.

(Reach Out!  Reach out and touch somebody!)

Another House member topped that with the passenger sitting him behind on one flight who got a “dear John” phone call from either his wife or sweetheart just before takeoff. The begging and pleading was just terrible to listen to, he said. Finally, with the plane ready to take off, a flight attendant had to threaten to have U.S. marshals drag the man off the plane before he finally put his phone away.

I got one of those when I was in the service, but it wasn’t a phone call.  It was a letter.  It read:  “Dear Don, I am so sorry I missed the boat, I met a man with some righteous plans, and Jack that is all she wrote.” About broke my little old 19 year old heart it did.

“I do believe this is important that we don’t make what is already a crowded and difficult environment for the traveling public and flight attendants worse by allowing cellphone use in-flight,” said Rep. Peter DeFazio, D-Ore., sponsor of the Halting Airplane Noise to Give Us Peace (HANG UP) Act.  Don’t you just love all these cute, little anachronisms, beats working I guess.

But Rep. John Mica, R-Fla., said there are a lot of annoying things on airplanes, including children with dirty diapers and noisy MP3 players, but that doesn’t mean they should be banned.

You are trying to legislate courtesy, folks, and that just doesn’t work.

I Got You Babe!  A man who blasted Cher and U2 from his home has had his stereo equipment and music collection destroyed. He  was warned to turn down his music after complaints were made. He was served with a noise abatement notice, which he later admitted ignoring.

As a result, his two tape and record decks, his radio and his tapes and CDs were seized by the police.  Environmental health officers were alerted to the unacceptable volume levels at Wiosna’s property after complaints from a local resident.  Just something about the month of August that seems to bring the worst out in people.

I am tired of summertime, bring on the short days and turn off the heat … August sucks.