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

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Out of the Mouths of Babes…


Jared is eleven-years old.  Jared is a beautiful boy and may well one day be a real ladies man, a really handsome kid.  He has a killer smile and a mouth that won’t quit.

Here’s the scene:  His mother is sitting in a recliner watching a movie with John Cusak and Billy Crystal.  Cusak is climbing a wall and falls on a cactus.  He stands up in obvious pain with a bunch of cactus needles stuck in his crotch.  As he bends over to extract them the view from the camera is at his back.  Got it?

Jared is seated in a chair across the room from his mother.  Jared is also watching this movie.  Jared chuckles at the scene aforesaid described.  In his own inimitable, 11-year old, middle school vernacular blurts out “Looks like he is jacking off.”

Hmmm?  Had I said anything like that near my mother, if had I even known anything about it at age eleven, a trip to the emergency room probably would have been my next stop in an attempt to control the massive bleeding from my very sore posterior.

It’s a different world we live in these days.  There are no secrets anymore.  Nothing is held back.  Decorum is out; political correctness may be dying as well.  All I can say is “what the fuck is up with that?” Where do these kids come up with the shit?  Who the hell teaches these little ingrate bastards how to conduct themselves?  I just scratch have my balls and wonder?

And that is all I have to say about that…

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Good Music, Two Kids and Clear Skies…


Southwest 489, St. Louis to BWI.  It is a spectacular day to fly.  The ground is vivid with detail, just a few puffy clouds, and lots of sun.  The plane is about half full.  Josh Groban is singing away through my Bose headphones and filling my atrophied medulla oblongata with some very pleasant music I can very much appreciate but not understand because most are in Spanish, Italian or French (I am not a Lyric guy – too much clutter for my limited IQ to comprehend intended meaning).  Across the aisle from me sit two very beautiful babies, about three or four, both wiggling with joy at being on an airplane.

I think my love of children is genetic.  My dad seemed to attract the little ones almost like Santa Claus.  There isn’t anything other than The Nancy that lights up my life more than a smiling, happy child.  These two little ones are cute as any I have seen.  I got the little girl to throw me a wide grin, and am now working on her brother.  It is just a matter of time.

My daughter and I share the same feeling for music, though our tastes may be at odds.  She and I have shared how easily beautiful music brings up emotion in us.  Sometimes I hear a song such as Josh Groban’s “You’re Still You” or “To Where You Are” or “When You Say You Love Me” and I get glassy-eyed after just a few words.  I like to think of it as a gift given to me, others might say I am in touch with my feminine side.  I like to think it is my true machismo, my masculinity that allows such feelings to surface.  I am not afraid to cry and truly beautiful music can bring me to the brink very quickly.

To fly on a day like this allows me to relish in the glory of the creation of the Universal Presence, aka God.  For me, a former denier of all things God, flying at 25,000+ feet above the surface is always a nostalgia trip to my epiphany of the connectivity of all things, and allows me the privilege to enjoy The Best Day Ever every single day of the year no matter what comes my way.  Thank you, God, for this day!

All of this may make me wimp in some people’s eyes.  I just like to think of myself as an emotional, child-loving individuation of the Soul of God.  I can accept the wimp moniker if that is what this makes me, but I am a wimp enjoying The Best Day Ever for another twelve hours or so, then I get to do it all over.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Friday, April 16, 2010

Likes and Dislikes


Like have you by any chance had like a conversation with like a teenager lately?  Like it is almost like a trip to like a different world.  I am not quite like sure where or like when it started or like how it began, but the little dudes and dudettes can’t like speak like a complete sentence like without inserting like fifteen or twenty like “likes” into like a paragraph.

I think if like Webster was to like eliminate the word “like” from like every dictionary our like youngest generation would like not be able to like construct a sentence. I am like a non-judgmental adult like most of the time when like it comes to like young people, but like who the hell like taught them how to like speak?

Perhaps educators should like create a curriculum with like a course wherein our like young people could learn to like remove the word “like” when speaking of things unless they like really like mean they like something, or maybe like use it like fifty or sixty times less in like a five or ten minute conversation with someone they like.

My grandchildren may like read this and think I am like older than white dog shit and just like don’t understand, and not like have a clue as to like what I am like trying to like convey.  That’s like okay with me.  You see, I like get it.

And that is like all I have to say about that…

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Back to the Old Routine


Is it ballsy to fly on the thirteenth?  I don’t have a clue, being clueless as I am about things superstitious.  The earth is obliterated by low hanging clouds “Govinda, Worlds Within” is blaring in my ears thanks to Bose.  This is too cool!  There is something to be said of the serenity flying presents me and I acknowledge I am at peace when I am in the air…most of the time.

My plans for this week fell apart early.  I am heading to Columbia, South Carolina, but was supposed to be in Conway, Arkansas.  I thought my original itinerary was set in stone, just prior to the Bill Cosby curse.  That is when the plan turned to Jell-O and my week had to be rescheduled beginning to end, hence the seat on this United plane instead of my beloved Southwest, heading southeast instead of southwest.  This job gets in the way of my personal life more and more each day.  Why I love it so, I do not know.

A month ago I had every intention of hanging it up and retiring in February, 2011.  Today I am committed to staying until 2012, perhaps longer.  Why, you ask?  Am I a friggin’ nut?  I truly do not know why, and I am crazier than Charles Manson.

When I think of what I will do all day as a retiree on a modest retirement income, I begin to worry about what I will do all day as a retiree on a modest retirement income.  Last month I drew my first Social Security check, and almost that same day it was announced by the government Social Security was now paying out more than it was taking in.  I know it is my fault and I almost apologize for it, but then I have been paying into the system since 1960.  Back to the retirement dilemma: my dream of being a geriatric porn star simply isn’t going to eventuate due to equipment failure.  Farming, though an admirable vocation is not for me, but more due to a lack of equipment rather than the failure of it.  Farming is also hard work, and that ain’t in my future either.  It is a conundrum? 

Looks as though for now I will suffer with this job for a while longer, and that’s okay.  I just hope no one catches on to the fact I am having more fun than I should be allowed to have, that every day is The Best Day Ever, and I am in complete control of my universe.

And that is all I have to say about that…

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