Hell of a Guy
No legacy is so rich as honesty - William Shakespeare

Friday, February 27, 2009

Air Tran 728


I arrived at the Dayton Airport at 5:15 this morning.  The exuberance of people at that hour of the day is a little more subdued then it is in the later hours of the morning and during the day.  Most people looked, ironically, and acted as if they just got out of bed.  In fact, most of them looked as if they were still in bed.  You could have heard a pin drop, it was so quiet.  Even the babies and small children were in a near catatonic state.  I cannot say my own level of excitement was at a high point, but I did choose a flight with a 7AM departure time.  I choose the flight, so I get to accept the consequences of my choice, which means I am sorry now I didn’t take a later one.

The aircraft is flying at a level where there was a layer of very gray, rolling clouds below us and another layer of the same hanging above us.  The space in between these layers has a satisfying blue hue to it.  It seems as if the plane is standing still and the clouds are speeding by us, almost like we are suspended, the center of it all.  Air Tran has XM Radio system and I am plugged into it and listening to Spa 73, and some very good New Age music.  The combination of the surreal music and the surreal landscape out my window has me very relaxed and on a kind of high.  This is generally the feeling I get when I feel closest to God.  It comes as light-headedness and a feeling of euphoria, and I love it.

As I sit here thinking of how good I feel my mind shifted to something I learned of yesterday.  It was of the death of a grandchild of one of my co-workers and the thought of it haunts me this morning, still.  I find myself near tears for a family I don’t really know and a child I probably would have never met.  I feel their loss as if it was my own, and my thoughts will be with this family and a sincere hope they will be at peace soon.

I know this is a repeat of something I have said before, but I will repeat it just the same.  I believe no one dies until their purpose for being here is complete.  The idea of what purpose a small child or infant might have befuddles me, but I am certain this child had one and it was complete.  I believe we all are nothing more than an individuation of the One Soul, the Soul of God, and at death our spirit and soul are reunited with the Soul of God.  And that, my friends, I think is just about as good as it gets.

I will have a great and wonderful day today.  It will be the best day ever.  For I know the spirit and soul of one small child is exactly were it should be.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

The Urge to Spit


Have you ever watched a baseball game on TV?  Ever take notice of how often baseball players spit?  Seems like adjusting crotches and spitting, along with a small measure of ability to hit the ball, is all one needs to be successful at baseball.  Perhaps some pharmaceuticals may play a little part on whether or not super status can be reached, but we can leave that to the A-Rods, Bonds and Clemens of the sport.  But, I am a bit off course, this piece is about spitting,so I need to reverse it.

First off, spitting is a nasty thing to do, I agree, but as a guy I see it all the time.  I am not sure why this is or why it happens, but for most guys it is involuntary.  We do it like a fart in the middle of the night, it just happens.  It is like driving in the car alone, we guys will talk to ourselves.  We don’t mean to, it just happens.  Tough talk, for the most part, you know, like, about other drivers, our bosses, and our wives.  It is the only time we get to talk this way without getting a fist in the face.  We drop a couple of descriptors like “you asshole,” “dick head,” and stuff like that at other people.  Spitting, maybe for us it is a natural thing to do, you know, God’s plan.  There you go, make it a Holy thing.

You might be asking yourself what is the point of this rant, and you have every right to do so.  The deal is I notice this with guys.  Guys love to spit.  Case and point: guys will know this, and probably notice it more when I throw it out there.  Ladies, unless you pay a visit to a Men’s Room, this will not be verifiable and you will have to trust me.  At least eight out of ten guys will walk up to a urinal and the first thing they will do is spit into it, and I will most likely be one of these guys, every time.  I don’t know what it is about spitting, but the urge is totally uncontrollable.  Even if I consciously think about not doing it, I usually do.  The first time I noticed this about myself I thought I was weirder the hell, but then I started to notice other guys were as weird as me, though it did not make me feel any better about my own disgusting habit.  It is a very bad habit.

Well, there it is, I have bared my soul, and told the world of my one disgusting habit, other than farting in bed and talking tough to myself in the car when I am alone, and maybe an occasional crotch scratch when I think no one is looking.  Good grief, I have to stop writing before I unearth more disgusting stuff about myself, and besides, I have a huge urge to go spit in the toilet.

And that is all I have to say about that…

PS: Happy 105th Birthday, Dad!!!

Sunday, February 22, 2009



A friend of mine used to say, “You are never too old to be immature.”  I don’t know if he had me in mind when he said it, but there is a smidgen of truth in those words, especially if they are indeed a description of the happy soul writing these words.

The Nancy and I set yesterday out of the house around noon running errands like haircuts, a stop by the pharmacy and grocery store, with a little clothes shopping thrown in the mix.  After our 2:30 hair appointments, mine takes a lot less than Nancy’s for some reason, we went down the street a couple of blocks and stopped at the Bulls and Bears for a late lunch and some early beers.  I had the dish of the day for immature seniors, fried pickles and nachos smothered in cheese, jalapenos, tomatoes and guacamole.  The Nancy, trying to be the more sensible, mature, middle-aged, weight-watching woman she typically is, had a burger, no bun, but then blew it with the addition of blue cheese sprinkles and French fries.  She had turned to the dark side and her inner immaturity.  We should have been ashamed, but then, immaturity overrules shame every time.  At least that’s my story and I am going with it.

After lunch we stopped by the Outlet Mall in Hagerstown, Maryland and had a good time going into several stores and buying little.  The Nancy bought some Mexican clothing at Chico’s, well, she bought some clothes, but I am not so sure of the style or where they were made.  We walked around, held hands, watched kids and people and got a good case of being kids again just being silly and giggly.  We stopped in Polo store, and discussed with another “L” Polo would be pollo, the Spanish word for chicken – yes, it was that kind of day. 

The Nancy showed me a cloth jacket/shirt that sort of looked like corduroy made of canvas.  She thought it would look nice on me, so I tried it on.  I liked, too.  It was hanging on a rack with a sign on the top of it yelling out, “75%” off.  Wow, I thought for about half a second before I looked at the price tag!  Original price of this tent jacket was $795.00…for canvas, no less.  I am not a mature male, but I ain’t stupid enough to pay $795.00 for a jacket ever, let alone one Ralph Lauren can sell in an outlet store for $200.00 but probably won’t sell until it falls under $50.00.  P.T. Barnum had it right, there is a sucker born every minute, but I am not one of them, at least not yesterday.  Maybe I should rethink that after all, I am a Melaluca dealer (I throw that in just in case you need some Melaluca shit), but that is another story.

The point of all of this is to let you know I have converted The Nancy from a mature, sensible female to a middle-aged immature one: one that I love dearly, though.  Case and point: yesterday while I picking up a prescription at the local Rite-Aid, from somewhere in the middle of the store, in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the state of West Virginia, I hear, “Hey Dave, do you need more Depends?”

Am that is all I have to say about that…

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Valentine’s Day


Saturday, February 14, 2009, Valentine’s Day.  My Valentine, my very special Valentine, is fast asleep at 9AM this morning.  I can hear a slight snoring coming from the master bedroom, so I can only guess its origin is either The Nancy or the cat.  I vote The Nancy!

I don’t ever remember looking to see where this holiday came from or how it got to be.  So today I looked in up on Wikipedia, which says:

(Saint) Valentine’s Day is a holiday celebrated on February 14 by many people throughout the world. In the West, it is the traditional day on which lovers express their love for each other by sending Valentine’s cards, presenting flowers, or offering confectionery. The day was originally a pagan festival that was renamed after two Early Christian martyrs named Valentine. The day became associated with romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the High Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love flourished.
The day is most closely associated with the mutual exchange of love notes in the form of “valentines”. Modern Valentine symbols include the heart-shaped outline, doves, and the figure of the winged Cupid. Since the 19th century, handwritten notes have largely given way to mass-produced greeting cards.[1] The sending of Valentines was a fashion in nineteenth-century Great Britain, and, in 1847, Esther Howland developed a successful business in her Worcester, Massachusetts home with hand-made Valentine cards based on British models. The popularity of Valentine cards in 19th-century America was a harbinger of the future commercialization of holidays in the United States.

The U.S. Greeting Card Association estimates approximately one billion valentines are sent each year worldwide, making the day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year, behind Christmas. The association estimates that, in the US, men spend in average twice as much money as women.

So there you have it.  Everything you possibly want to know about Valentine’s Day is right here on this page.  I suppose the only thing you really need to know, especially if you are married, is to get the card and don’t forget the gift.  The gift is the important part, even if you are instructed not to get one.  If you are told this, know it is a trap.  Buy the gift and stay healthy.  The above not withstanding, go out today and enjoy your sweetheart.  Spend the day in love, spend it together.

Want to make some real points?  Do this in your yard.  The gift that keeps on giving.


I wish all of you a day in friendship and love and,

That is all I have to say about that…

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