Saturday, March 31, 2007

Hit And Run

Some bastard hit my car! While it was parked! In front of my house!

I'd just come inside from having a smoke on the front porch & watching the thunderstorm. I took off my jacket & shoes, & had just sat down in my chair when my phone rang.

It was my neighbor, telling me that a white Neon had just shot down our street, hit my car, & took off up Woodruff, toward downtown.

Son of a bitch!

I went out & looked. The dumb fuck jacked up the trim on my door, took out the glass in my mirror, & readjusted the front bumper to an interesting new angle.

He also left behind his passenger side mirror, which I took inside to give to the police officer.

The Rockford police officers arrived in record time (for them), 45 minutes later, & while filling out the report, asked if I wanted the driver arrested.

Uhhh.... Yeah!

they ever find the fucker!

I gave my information, told them what happened, & gave them the mirror assembly from the Neon. I also told them what the pizza guy across the street saw, & they said they'd find him & ask him some questions. They also interviewed my neighbor.

I have no delusions that they'll ever find this sack of shit. Hell, I doubt they'll even actually look for the prick!

What the fuck's wrong with wanting to park in front of my house without some jack-off vandalizing it or hitting it?

Ya know, this car may be a piece of shit, but it's my piece of shit! It's a 1989 Honda Civic that The Missus bought when she was 18. It has no muffler, no exhaust system to speak of, & sounds like an old army jeep. Actually, it sounds like it has one of those glass pack mufflers, only I didn't have to shell out the dough to make it sound that way....... It's just not worth spending the money to make it sound nice.

And I like setting off car alarms as I drive down the street.

Because the car's so old, I only have enough insurance to keep it legal. Just liability. The problem is, also because it's so old, the damage is just about equal to its value. I can't afford to fix it & I don't know how the hell I'm gonna replace it. The big problem is that I need it!

It figures that, just when we get caught up financially, something just has to happen to drive us back into debt.

Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. I'm gonna go take some muscle relaxants and some proscription-strength ibuprofen for the pulled muscle in my back.

Another story, not worth telling.

tell me things will get better........

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Dontcha Just Hate It When....

something significant, I mean something HUGE has happened, but you just can't be the first to post about it?

I do.....

It's Here!!!

My tent came today!


Sunday, March 25, 2007

Oldies For Oldies.

My dear saintly Mother e-mailed me titles of songs for aging Babyboomers.... You know, those now crotchety old farts & geriatric hippies from whom all our current world-problems flow?

Well, with all that aside, here's the Top Seventeen old/new hits for Old Farts.

(Geeze, Ma, you couldn't stop at an even number?)

1. Herman's Hermits--- Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Walker.

2. The Bee Gees--- How Can You Mend a Broken Hip.

3. Bobby Darin--- Splish, Splash, I Was Havin' a Flash.

4. Ringo Starr--- I Get By With a Little Help From Depends.

5. Roberta Flack--- The First Time Ever I Forgot Your Face.

6. Johnny Nash--- I Can't See Clearly Now.

7. Paul Simon--- Fifty Ways to Lose Your Liver .

8. The Commodores--- Once, Twice, Three Times to the Bathroom.

9. Marvin Gaye--- Heard It Through the Grape Nuts.

10. Procol Harem--- A Whiter Shade Of Hair.

11. Leo Sayer--- You Make Me Feel Like Napping.

12. The Temptations --- Papa's Got a Kidney Stone.

13. Abba--- Denture Queen.

14. Tony Orlando--- Knock 3 Times (On The Ceiling If You Hear Me Fall).

15. Helen Reddy--- I Am Woman, Hear Me Snore.

16. Leslie Gore--- It's My Procedure, and I'll Cry If I Want To.

17. Willie Nelson--- On the Commode Again.

Yeeaah, my Mom ROCKS!!! :^)

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Offense Intended.

If anyone wants to be offended, keep reading; there's a little something for everyone.

What do you call two Mexicans playing basketball?

Juan on Juan

What is a Yankee?
The same as a quickie, but a guy can do it alone.

What is the difference between a Harley and a Hoover ?
The position of the dirt bag

Why is divorce so expensive?
Because it's worth it.

What do you see when the Pillsbury Dough Boy bends over?

Why is air a lot like sex?
Because it's no big deal unless you're not getting any.

What do you call a smart blonde?
A golden retriever.

What do attorneys use for birth control?
Their personalities.

What's the difference between a girlfriend and wife?
45 lbs

What's the difference between a boyfriend and husband?
45 minutes

What's the fastest way to a man's heart?
Through his chest with a sharp knife.

Why do men want to marry virgins?
They can't stand criticism.

What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog?
After a year, the dog is still excited to see you

What makes men chase women they have no intention of marrying?
The same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving.

Why don't bunnies make noise when they have sex?
Because they have cotton balls.

What's the difference between a porcupine and BMW?
A porcupine has the pricks on the outside.

What did the blonde say when she found out she was pregnant?
"Are you sure it's mine?"

Why does Mike Tyson cry during sex?
Mace will do that to you.

Why did OJ Simpson want to move to Arkansas ?
Everyone has the same DNA.

Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?
Breasts don't have eyes.

Did you hear about the dyslexic Rabbi?
He walks around saying "Yo."

Why do drivers' education classes in Redneck schools use the car only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays?
Because on Tuesday and Thursday, the Sex Ed class uses it.

Where does an Irish family go on vacation?
A different bar.

Did you hear about the Chinese couple that had a retarded baby?
They named him "Sum Ting Wong".

What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the other?
A speech impediment.

What does it mean when the flag at the Post Office is flying at half-mast?
They're hiring.

What's the difference between a southern zoo and a northern zoo?
A southern zoo has a description of the animal on the front of the cage along with... "a recipe".

How do you get a sweet little 80-year-old lady to say the F word?
Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell *BINGO*!

Why is there no Disneyland in China ?
No one's tall enough to go on the good rides


What's the difference between a northern fairytale and a southern fairytale?
A northern fairytale begins "Once upon a time..."
A southern fairytale begins "Y'all ain't gonna believe this shit..."

Thanks to Chem for sending that to me. Now POST SOMETHING, DAMMIT!!!

Have a nice weekend! :^)

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Regrets? I Have A Few...

(I preface this post to say that I have, indeed, been spending time with my good friend, Jack Daniels).

To say that I have "regrets" in my life isn't to say that I regret my life as it is today. I understand that the decisions I've made have shaped who & what I am, but still...

I regret that I didn't make a career out of the Army. I enlisted at the age of 17, and entered service on September 21, 1988, 16 days after turning 18. I wanted to be an Military Policeman.

It turned out that the minimum height requirement for an MP is 5'8".... I was measured at 5'7-3/4". In my stockinged feet. So I was relegated to the ranks of the Infantry -- 11M.

(That's, "11 Mike", the designation for Mechanized Infantry, as opposed to 11B, or 11 Bravo which is "ground-pounder" infantry.)

Basic Training was fun for me, it really was! After the first three days, when I and everyone else was scared shitless, I began to see humor in what the Drill Sergeants were doing in order to 'break us down, to bring us up". I could laugh at their antics, while at the same time, understanding that what they were doing would make us better soldiers.

I learned how to strip (with my eyes closed), clean, and fire the M-16A2 (and hit targets at 800 meters, with open sights, consistently). I learned how to operate the S.A.W, the M-60 machine gun, and the M-203 grenade launcher, not to mention hand grenades and land mines.

I learned how to read a map, operate a field telephone (the PRC, or "Prick"), set an ambush, march in formation, stalk in the dead of night.... In short, I learned everything there is to know about how to take the life of another human being in the service of my country.

And I loved it.

But that wasn't enough.

Although I was in the best shape of my life, my physical and psychological prime, there was the matter of 2 sit-ups.

Yep. Two set-ups.

At the time I was 'listed, a soldier's minimum requirement for physical training (PT) was 42 push-ups in 2 minutes (I was good at 50), 52 sit-ups (which my Drill Sgt. counted at 56 -- good enough!), and a 2 mile run under something like 15 minutes (which I ran at 12-1/2 minutes).

I wasn't the best by far, but I did my best to all concerned...... Except to the grading NCO.

My first count on sit-ups was 50 -- 2 short.

My second count was 48.

My third (and final) count was, again, 50 (my Drill Sgt. counted 56).

Three shots were all we got.

My Drill Sgt. was PISSED! Not at me; at the grading NCO! Drill Sgt. Hill worked with me, trained me, and taught me to do "army sit-ups" just as he did them, and when that grading NCO failed me, Drill Sgt. Hill went BALLISTIC....... "How the fuck are you going to grade me when it's my turn?!", he shouted. "Pvt. F__ did 'em the same as me! Are you gonna flunk me, too, you dumb sonuvabitch?!?!"

I stayed at Fort Benning, GA, much humiliated, until February 14, 1989, when I was sent back home in disgrace. At times, I still, 18 years later, remember the looks on my parents' faces when they picked me up at the bus station. I still feel the shame of failure. Even now.

I was to have been shipped off to Germany, to one of ten Bradley units stationed there. Seven of those units were sent to Iraq during the First Gulf War.

I can't help but wonder, who took my place?

Granted, if I'd made it in the Army, I'd've never met The Missus, had my kids, etc.... But if I had made it, they wouldn't be an issue, now would they? I wouldn't know any better.

I'm happy with The Missus, & with my childerbeasts.

But still I wonder: Who died in my place?

Friday, March 16, 2007

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I'm posting this now 'cause tomorrow, I'm bound for Kansas. I have to leave at midnight tomorrow, so I'll be sleeping during the day, which SUCKS, it being St. Paddy's Day and all.....

(But I gotta make the cash, ya know?)

And so, I'm posting (and drinking) tonight, which should be interesting.

Before I start finding clips of Irish tunes and such, allow me to get political in an Irish kind of way. I have heard many, many times, that to oppose the British presence in the North of Ireland, one must be a socialist.

A fucking SOCIALIST!

Why? Because "Ireland should be for the working man", a term used by our our own Socialist/Communist/Liberal elite that actually means a man/woman who should depend on that "god", "The State", for all things.

Bullshit, I say!

Look at the father of Irish Independence, Padraig (Patrick) Pearse, who believed in an Ireland for ALL people; rich, poor, Catholic, Protestant, man, woman and child! Not just for the "working class". Read the Irish Declaration of Indepence. An Ireland for one and all, not just for a few.

I'm all for true Irish Independence, and I'm as Conservative as one can get.

How can this be? Because to live under a Communistic regime is to live in slavery.

Look at the old Soviet Union, China, and Cuba. Look at what happened in El Salvadore and Nicaragua during the 1980s and '90s. I have a brother-in-law who lived through the bloodshed in El Salvador, and he told me enough to turn my stomach regarding what the communists did to his country-of-birth.

How can anyone with a brain in his/her head say that Communism = freedom?!

To be a true Conservative, one must believe that government has a very limited role to play in the day-to-day life of the individual citizen. The government has the obligation to protect it's citizens from foes, foreign and domestic, and to raise taxes toward that goal. It's up to the individual to make his/her way, without government getting in their way!

What's bad about that? What's "anti-freedom" about that?

If anyone wants to argue the point, feel free. Unlike a Leftist, I'm open to debate.

Politics 101 is concluded (for now).

And now, so good ol' Irish tuneage:

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Weekly Chuckle

This one just can't wait. The Missus, being an elementary school teacher with a warped sense of humor, presented me with this gem, & with me being the sharing individual that I am..... Ah, fuck it, here's the joke:

A guy goes to the supermarket and notices an attractive woman waving at him. She says hello.

He's rather taken aback because he can't place where he knows her from, so he says, "Do you know me?"

To which she replies, "I think you're the father of one of my kids."

Now his mind travels back to a time long in the past and says, "My God, are you the stripper from my bachelor party that I banged on the pool table with all my buddies watching while your partner whipped my butt with wet celery???"

She looks into his eyes and says calmly, "No, I'm your son's teacher."

Thanks to my brother-in-all-but-blood, Chemical Nova for sending that to The Missus.

Now post something why don't ya?!


I've been a re-enactor for nine years now, and I'm finally getting a new tent!

Saturday, before the whole Shedd Aquarium outing, I called Panther Primitives and ordered their Super Bell Wedge: 8' tall x 12' wide x 14' long, plus a 6' bell, putting it to 20' long. It took about 10 minutes to order over the phone, and it'll be here in 3 to 4 weeks, in plenty of time for Macktown.

I. Am. Psyched!

Next time I have money, I'm ordering the 16'x20' fly. :^)

What A Great Weekend!

For once, a lot went on this past weekend. Most importantly, Magoo turned 6 on Monday, so the Missus & I took Snoofy, Magoo & Baby Boy (cripes, I've got to come up with another name for him - he's 4 for fucksake!), along with a couple of cousins, to Shedd Aquarium as a Birthday outing on Saturday.

Magoo loves "sea critters", she wanted a stuffed dolphin, & I thought, "Where's the best place to find a stuffed dolphin?"

(They're hard to catch, and you just can't find a taxidermist willing to stuff one anymore!)

On the way, we stopped at the Des Plaines Oasis for lunch. We ate McDonald's, & as the kids had never been to an Oasis before, we watched the cars and trucks drive beneath us. We were getting ready to go when the kids became fascinated with the crane game, just looking at the stuff inside, when this HUGE biker-type dude came over to the machine. He looked at us & said, "I play this game every time I come here." Okaay....

He put a dollar in the machine, & the kids were watching & cheering him on. Sure enough, on his second try, he won this spongy rubber ball the size of my head that lights up when you bounce it. Biker dude looks at Magoo and says, "This is for cheering for me so good", and gave her the ball! She was delighted! She said, "THANK YOU!", & he smiled and walked away.

That was cool.

We get to Shedd, & what's waiting for us? One huge friggin' line. Wasn't a problem, though, as the view of Lake Michigan was fantastic. The last time we'd gone there, Snoofy was 4, Magoo was an infant, and Baby Boy wasn't even a glint in my eye. The cousins had never been there before either. All the kids kept talking about how awesome the "ocean" is. Cute.

I won't get into every little thing we did, but I will say that if you go to the dolphin show, don't go to the last show of the day. The dolphins are tired and they're smart enough (barely) to say, "Piss off! I've been jumping and tail-walking all friggin' day, and I'm beat! Gimme a beer, stick a ciggy in my blow-hole and leave me alone!"

Add to that lackluster performance the inane comments of the presenter: "Dolphins can swim much faster than we humans." No. Fucking. WAY! Are you shitting me? An aquatic mammal can out-swim my landlocked ass?! Hell, I was just telling The Missus how slow those little bastards were swimming.... What a maroon.....

Anyway, we saw feeding time in the Big Tank (or the reef or whatever they call it) amongst the rays, sharks, various fish, and one HUGE green sea turtle (mmmm, soup... is what I said). We also saw the beluga whales along with the baby whale, which was really cool! Adult belugas are white, but the baby was black.

(Yes they were the real parents! Thanks for asking.) ;^)

We all had a good time, especially Magoo. She got her stuffed dolphin, a ball from her Biker-dude/Birthday angel, and she got to eat McDonalds for lunch and supper with all of us, as a family, and her two favorite cousins.

I don't think we'll be going back, though. I told The Missus that, the next time we go, I'm getting and wearing this.

Like a fart in church.....

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Let's Try This Again....

I finally got some new material so I'm bringing back

The Weekly Chuckle.

Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.

"What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender.

"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.

"That little shit, O'Conner!?" says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand."

"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."

"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"

That I did," said Paddy, "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in
a fight."

Thanks to my Irish accordian playing friend for that! :^)

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Fine. Then *I'll* Say It.....

So many folks on The Right in this country are so worried about "offending" those on The Left that, especially when it comes to the war, they don't want to call a spade a spade.

Fine. I will.......

Saying, "I support the troops but not their mission" is contradictory. You can't support our soldiers/sailors/airmen/marines if you don't support what they DO.

That being said, those on The Left who do not want our brave men and women to succeed in the war on terror obviously want us to lose this war. If we lose, the terrorists win.

(If my writing seems simplistic, it's supposed to be. Some Lefty might be trying to read it, and I wouldn't want them to become even more confused.)

Now how can someone who dreams of the downfall of our unique society, and victory for Islamo-nazism even remotely call themselves "Patriotic"?

They can't.

Ergo, if you're a Left-wing dingbat then You. Are. un-American!

Pure and simple.

A Whole New Wrapper.

Well, ain't this exciting?

I got tired of looking at the same black background, so yeah, I changed it.

Of course, if you're reading this, like, with your eyes, then I really shouldn't have to write about it, should I?

Well, you'd appreciate it if you were blind, because then you'd need someone to let you know....

Or something....

Who knows, maybe I'll actually post something later.