Hell of a Guy
Never trust a computer you can't throw out a window - Steve Wozniak

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

A Lady in Spain and a Dancing Baby


There is a ninety-five year old woman blogger in Spain.  She writes about current everyday stuff and ruminates on her life’s path.  The subject and content of her posts move from the nostalgic to the poignant, and the sublime to the far out.  She speaks of today’s fashions and her past loves, and a whole bunch of other stuff.  I don’t know how often she puts up new stories, but to date – eight months into her blogging – she has accumulated over 350,000 hits.  That’s friggin’ incredible until you think about the crying Brittany Spears fan, the “Leave Brittany alone!” nut who got three million hits with his tirade on UTube in just one day.  Now I feel badly.  I thought I was doing well with nearly 64,000 in a little over a year and half.  I am nothing, a nobody.  Bottom line here: You all are going to have to pick it up a little bit.  I need more hits to be somebody in this world.  Especially since my plea for money didn’t get very far, leaving me in a position of having to work for a few more years.

This morning I listened to a news story where some lady posted a video of her baby bouncing to some music you cannot make out but supposedly is Prince.  The company that produced the music is now suing this woman for copyright infringement.  She got 180,000 hits on this video.  She gets to be famous and so does her dancing baby.  She was on Fox this morning, for crying out loud.  I can’t even get my picture in the Post Office…well, maybe I could.

What am I, chopped liver?  Let’s pick it up out there.  You got nothing better to do (or you’d be reading this), so “X” out of here and sign back on three or four times.  Let’s get this count up and make me somebody?

And that is all I have to say about that… 


Thursday, October 25, 2007

A Magnet for Weirdos…


Is there a sign on my back that says “I love weirdos?”  What is it about me that draws these people to me?

Tuesday evening I was at a nice little micro-brewery in Berea, Ohio, enjoying a beer at a really nice bar; a classy little place.  I had had a good meal with some friends and had actually left the restaurant when I realized I had left my cell phone on the table, and went back to into the restaurant retrieve it.  After not finding the cell phone at the table, but instead locating it in my back pocket where it obviously was hiding all the time, and knowing I was only heading back to my hotel room with absolutely nothing to do but watch the tube, I decided to have one more beer.  (A side note: The Cornerstone Brewery has an outstanding IPA called Seven, if you are interested.  Seven has an IBU of 91 and an ABV of 7.5.  Bud Light has an IBU of 4.)  I bellied up to the bar, these days it touches the bar long before the rest of me arrives, and ordered the beer.  I had planned to savor it and enjoy kicking back with no place to go and no one to see.

Exactly how the conversation with the guy sitting two stools to my right got started, I am not sure, but it didn’t take long to enter The Twilight Zone, that is for sure.  Something was said about age, and then the young man sitting near to me said something about it being special to have been born at a time to be able to live in two millennia.  Dive! Dive! Danger, Will Robinson!  Abandon the ship!  Let’s get out of here, Tonto!  Run for your lives!  Beam me up, Scotty!  This is where it got weird.

I told him I have grandchildren that were born in the 90’s and I believe that, with today’s quality of life and advances in medicine, they could very possibly live to see 2100.  “Won’t happen,” he says.  So the obvious question from me is, why not?

“Mr. Conspiracy Theorist” then goes into a dissertation on the Government’s programs designed to shorten our lives.  Programs either approved by or concocted by the government to put products in the market place that deliberately make us obese and unhealthy.  All in the name of profit.  Profit for companies and profit for the medical community.  In essence, the government wants us dead.

Bullshit, I say.  Where in the hell did you come up with that nonsense?  He tells me he has seen the reports (all the while I am thinking he read this in the National Enquirer or some other “newspaper”).  My man is definitely out there.  In addition to making no sense at all, “Intellecto Man” had just a little difficulty forming words.  There was very definite slurring going on.  But he was entertaining.  I was just about to start to egg him on about his thoughts on manned moon missions, the World Trade Center disaster and the Holocaust when a guy came in and sat down on the stool between us.  It pretty much ended the conversation, so I finished my beer, but couldn’t resist telling the guy on my way out that I hope he enjoyed “day out.”  I think he was too gone to get it.

I have added this one to my collection of characters met on the Road of Life.  They are my entertainment and, perhaps, I am theirs.  I’ve written before of my belief we are all connected, and I know I don’t meet these people by accident.  I gave this young man my card with this website address on it.  So I will end this post with a message to him should he read it…  Thanks buddy, for the conversation and the laughs.  You seem like a very nice young man but your thinking is a little warped…and I get that you are headed for a life of misery and paranoia.  God bless you and protect you from the Government.

And that is all I have to say about that… 

Sunday, October 21, 2007

A Fall Day on the Farm


It is a beautiful fall day here on the Farm.  At this moment the sun is slowly dropping below the western horizon just beyond Cacapon Mountain.  The sky above it is very blue and nearly cloudless.  The contrast between the multi-colored leaves, the blue of the sky and the reddish hue of the waning sun is nothing short of spectacular.  The wind is blowing from the west and the remaining leaves on the trees are dancing in what remains of the sun light.  I am really a spring guy, but this fall day is just perfect in every way.

My day began at 5:20 this morning.  Without saying The Nancy woke me up with her snoring because I am not allowed to speak of her snoring to anyone but her; however I was awakened by strange noises in my bedroom that sounded a lot like The Nancy when she snores.  I tried to get back to sleep, but something in the room that sounded strangely like a buzzing chainsaw let me know my effort would go unrewarded, so I got up. 

By 5:40 I was outside in the morning blackness talking to our cat Lisa, and looking at the clearest night sky I have seen since last winter.  Thousands of stars and a half moon lit up the heavens and I was awestruck with its vast beauty.  I stood gazing at this heavenly picture for several minutes before saying out loud, “Screw this, I need coffee,” with no one but Lisa to hear me.  So much for beauty, caffeine took precedence.

The Nancy and I ended up doing a lot of nothing today.  We got some chores and some odd jobs completed before we settled down in our favorite chairs to watch some football, drink some beer and enjoy each other’s company (which means The Nancy is sitting across the room from me reading a book and I am typing BS on this laptop while Maryland and Virginia try to tear each other’s heads off.  Man, this is the life!

Oops!  My beer is empty and Virginia just stole the game from Maryland.  Well, so much for fall days, beautiful skies, radiant fall colors, chores and odd jobs, and, oh yes, bullshit stories.  It’s time for bed.

And that is all I have to say about that… 

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Canadian Beer - An Assessment


In just two words, my assessment is: It sucks!!  Now, having read my assessment, you have a choice of reading why, or just take my word for it and go bowling, or do something else equally exciting.

Sitting on a United Airline’s mini-jet headed in a southerly direction having spent seven out of the last ten nights in Toronto, it feels wonderful to be going homeward to the land of microbreweries and really good beer.  Beer, decent beer that is, ain’t easily had in Maple Leaf country.  I think if I had to grade Canadian beer on a scale of one to ten, I am not sure I could go above ½.  Allow me, if you can stand the parade, to list the said yucky brands and an evaluation of those I consumed.  My assessment solely based on my keen tastes, of course.  Note, that I am a hophead and not a beer connoisseur. 

The first beer I had was a Carlsberg.  The bar tender, who was flat out gorgeous, told me the Carlsberg was the hoppyest beer she had.  She was very misinformed, but she was good looking, so I bit.  Carlsberg is a pilsner, I believe, and probably not brewed in Canada.  It is very wimpy with just a hint of flavor, about like a Heineken.  I think Carlsberg translates in English to “nasty beer” and was too lousy to score.

The next really bad beer I had was a Keith’s India Pale Ale.  In the US this brewer could be sued for misleading the public and false advertising.  Keith’s is not a good beer and certainly not and IPA.  IPA’s are to be over hopped, hence the term India Pale Ale (India is a far piece from England and had to be extra hopped to preserve the beer from going bad).  This one is totally devoid of hoppy character – it does, however, rank right up there with all the beers brewed by Anheuser-Busch.  Score: 1/2.

Two beers, so far! Score ½ out of a possible 10.  I am not a math genius but I think that makes the score ¼.

Next I had a Rickard’s Red Ale.  I wish I hadn’t.  It is as bad as the previous two.  Rickard’s tasted like a Carlsberg and the Keith’s IPA.  As far as I could discern, the only difference is that someone slipped some red dye in the vat during the “non-brewing” process to mislead the public.  Yucky!  I did refuse to drink Molson or LaBatts, both are really no more than perfect examples of Canadian mass produced industrial swill and not suited at all for my hophead taste buds or human consumption.  Does this make me picky?

I tasted a few of others (maybe five or six), but none gave me the beer experience I was longing for.  Then I found one brewed by the Mill Street Brewing Company called Tankhouse Ale.  Tankhouse is not the best beer I have ever had, but it did have a nice bouquet, a pretty good mouth feel and a taste that is mostly pleasant.  Drinkable, for sure.  It redeemed my opinion of Canadian beer, a little.  My opinion went from really poor to just poor.  I think my overall assessment of Canadian beer is fair and right on the mark. 

I suppose I shouldn’t attempt to go back to Canada anytime soon.

After reading this some of you may now vote “yes” on my wife’s “Is David a beer snob?” survey.  What is your opinion?  Could I possibly be a beer snob?  Hell, no!

And that’s all I have to say about that…

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