Blog number 494******* 24 February 2011
Went to Safeway today to pick up my drugs, asked the drug lady if she knew what happened to the bunny. She never heard anything about a bunny being loose in the store. On my way out, I passed by a meat man working on the display, asked him, he said they caught it. I asked him what they did with it, he said he didn't know.
I'm sure those meat department people - the buchers and such, the ones who gladly cut up different sorts of animal meats, took good care of that cute little thumper. Right?
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
AWWWWWWW
Blog number 493******* 23 February 2011
We - my loverly wife and I, were in Safeway today and coming down the aisle towards us was a little tiny bunny rabbit, running like hell, slipping on the waxed floors, heading straight for the meat department. Good luck, bunny!
We - my loverly wife and I, were in Safeway today and coming down the aisle towards us was a little tiny bunny rabbit, running like hell, slipping on the waxed floors, heading straight for the meat department. Good luck, bunny!
Monday, February 21, 2011
LE MOTIEF
Blog number 492******* 21 February 2011
I've written several blog entries from one of my stringers stationed in Getawayfromme, Montana about this guy - let's call him Tom, who pesters women at the same coffee houses my stringer hangs out in. So today I get a letter from my stringer, which follows;
"Tom was checking out women to me, 'she's got a nice ass,' etc. One girl came in and he said, 'Oh, she's nice.' Then he said, 'damn, she's gay.'
Then later we were talking about Michael Vick and Tom said, 'people can change.'
I said, 'not without a lot of therapy and will power.'
He said he had changed. I asked from what to what (!)
He said, 'from being an uncaring person.'
I asked, 'into what?'
His mind clamped down at that point and he changed the subject.
Truly the wizard of Oz was a parable of the mind and its sneakiness. Tom, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain or to my last question."
I think it was Robert Burns that said something to the effect, "Oh, to know ourselves as others know us."
What causes this ignorance of ourselves is that we don't look carefully at our motives any more than we look carefully at our thoughts. We think we do know why we are doing something - "I want to help the guy", so we look no further than that self-serving excuse. After all, it's good enough for me so it should be good enough for everybody.
I'd like to pontificate further, but I want to be kind to you, so I won't. I'm always thinking of others first. That's just the way I roll.
I've written several blog entries from one of my stringers stationed in Getawayfromme, Montana about this guy - let's call him Tom, who pesters women at the same coffee houses my stringer hangs out in. So today I get a letter from my stringer, which follows;
"Tom was checking out women to me, 'she's got a nice ass,' etc. One girl came in and he said, 'Oh, she's nice.' Then he said, 'damn, she's gay.'
Then later we were talking about Michael Vick and Tom said, 'people can change.'
I said, 'not without a lot of therapy and will power.'
He said he had changed. I asked from what to what (!)
He said, 'from being an uncaring person.'
I asked, 'into what?'
His mind clamped down at that point and he changed the subject.
Truly the wizard of Oz was a parable of the mind and its sneakiness. Tom, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain or to my last question."
I think it was Robert Burns that said something to the effect, "Oh, to know ourselves as others know us."
What causes this ignorance of ourselves is that we don't look carefully at our motives any more than we look carefully at our thoughts. We think we do know why we are doing something - "I want to help the guy", so we look no further than that self-serving excuse. After all, it's good enough for me so it should be good enough for everybody.
I'd like to pontificate further, but I want to be kind to you, so I won't. I'm always thinking of others first. That's just the way I roll.
Friday, February 18, 2011
STUPIDITY IS HARD ON US RECIPIENTS.
Blog number 491******* 18 February 2011
This morning I get a call from a voice on a machine telling me that the voice's owner personally knows this local politician, his wife and his two children and they are, one and all, wonderful people, so I can with perfect confidence vote for this wonderful person who will undoubtedly make Arizona a more enlightened, beautiful and healthy place to bring up my lovely family.
He didn't actually say all that - except for the part about the wife and kids and how wonderful the politician would be for Arizona - but you get the idea. I'm thinking, do these people really believe that I would vote for someone based upon a vapid recommendation by someone I also don't know? And not even by the person himself, but by his recording? Maybe they just don't care.
I saw a cartoon - F Minus, which shows a guy driving a car past a sign that said, "Vote for John Grill" The caption has the driver saying, "That settles it. I'm voting for John Grill."
This phone call was like that. Is anyone in the world going to vote for someone based upon such idiocy? I know about the signs and name recognition, but these phone calls - who pays attention to anything said? Preaching to the choir, maybe, but to somebody not even in the building? I don't think so.
A year or so ago I twice got a phone call from a machine that said, "Please hold. Mr. Such and Such would like to talk to you." Yeah, right.
There is a woman on the telly who does commercials for this floor covering store. I am pretty sure she is the owner of said store. She is to me, the most irritating commercial host on television. I would never go into her store out of fear of running into her. I'm sure you know who I mean if you live anywhere in Arizona, although it seems to me we used to avoid her in Sacramento also. The stupidity in this case is why the owner(s) do not get someone more pleasant to hawk their wares - even if it is her that hires the hawkers.
And then there is the continual commercial for "Crossing Jordan" in the middle of "48 Hours." I hate that. It's a long commercial and it is always the same one, showing the same clip taken from an episode of "Crossing Jordan." I am so sick of watching that episode that I will never under any circumstance, turn that show on. So, is it smart of them to pound my senses with the same episode hoping that this time I will think, "Hey! This is a pretty interesting program. I think I'll start watching it. When is it on? I'm so excited!"
Ok. I'm done.
This morning I get a call from a voice on a machine telling me that the voice's owner personally knows this local politician, his wife and his two children and they are, one and all, wonderful people, so I can with perfect confidence vote for this wonderful person who will undoubtedly make Arizona a more enlightened, beautiful and healthy place to bring up my lovely family.
He didn't actually say all that - except for the part about the wife and kids and how wonderful the politician would be for Arizona - but you get the idea. I'm thinking, do these people really believe that I would vote for someone based upon a vapid recommendation by someone I also don't know? And not even by the person himself, but by his recording? Maybe they just don't care.
I saw a cartoon - F Minus, which shows a guy driving a car past a sign that said, "Vote for John Grill" The caption has the driver saying, "That settles it. I'm voting for John Grill."
This phone call was like that. Is anyone in the world going to vote for someone based upon such idiocy? I know about the signs and name recognition, but these phone calls - who pays attention to anything said? Preaching to the choir, maybe, but to somebody not even in the building? I don't think so.
A year or so ago I twice got a phone call from a machine that said, "Please hold. Mr. Such and Such would like to talk to you." Yeah, right.
There is a woman on the telly who does commercials for this floor covering store. I am pretty sure she is the owner of said store. She is to me, the most irritating commercial host on television. I would never go into her store out of fear of running into her. I'm sure you know who I mean if you live anywhere in Arizona, although it seems to me we used to avoid her in Sacramento also. The stupidity in this case is why the owner(s) do not get someone more pleasant to hawk their wares - even if it is her that hires the hawkers.
And then there is the continual commercial for "Crossing Jordan" in the middle of "48 Hours." I hate that. It's a long commercial and it is always the same one, showing the same clip taken from an episode of "Crossing Jordan." I am so sick of watching that episode that I will never under any circumstance, turn that show on. So, is it smart of them to pound my senses with the same episode hoping that this time I will think, "Hey! This is a pretty interesting program. I think I'll start watching it. When is it on? I'm so excited!"
Ok. I'm done.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
EXPERIENCE NUMBER ONE
Blog number 489******* 15 February 2011
This came from a teacher I know.
"I just wrote a referral for a kid and another annoying brat said "can I have one too?" in an attempt to undermine my authority so I sent him to the office too.
A few minutes later two counselor ladies came in to see why I couldn't control the class. They said the second kid shouldn't have gotten a referral and he was getting a second chance.
As I was explaining why he didn't need a "second chance", the kid walked out of the room. The ladies said 'oh I guess he didn't want a second chance'
I said, 'yes. That's what I have been trying to tell you.'
I love it when people who never manage a classroom try to tell people who do, how to do it."
This came from a teacher I know.
"I just wrote a referral for a kid and another annoying brat said "can I have one too?" in an attempt to undermine my authority so I sent him to the office too.
A few minutes later two counselor ladies came in to see why I couldn't control the class. They said the second kid shouldn't have gotten a referral and he was getting a second chance.
As I was explaining why he didn't need a "second chance", the kid walked out of the room. The ladies said 'oh I guess he didn't want a second chance'
I said, 'yes. That's what I have been trying to tell you.'
I love it when people who never manage a classroom try to tell people who do, how to do it."
Saturday, February 12, 2011
OBSERVATION NUMBER ONE
Blog number 488******* 12 February 2011
This is my son's observation.
"I just figured out why men are so annoying and women not so much. Men are always trying various tricks and gags to get attention. Women do not have to do this as they get attention automatically.
Think of lions in a pack. The rival males are always trying trying trying. The females just sit back and wait.
Thats why a loud attention striving female is so annoying - it's jarring to the psyche."
This is my son's observation.
"I just figured out why men are so annoying and women not so much. Men are always trying various tricks and gags to get attention. Women do not have to do this as they get attention automatically.
Think of lions in a pack. The rival males are always trying trying trying. The females just sit back and wait.
Thats why a loud attention striving female is so annoying - it's jarring to the psyche."
Friday, February 4, 2011
HERE. STEAL THIS.
Blog number 487******* 03 February 2011
My son wrote me and told me that he lives next to a couple in the same apartment complex. He said that "none of us like them," that no one talks to them or even looks at them. "Anti-social nasty people," as my son puts it.
He said they have four cars for two people. They park one car to block two spaces, so two cars block four spaces and then they get a little considerate and only use one car for each space. So, two people, four cars, six scarce spaces. Nice people.
When my son told me about this, it reminded me of neighbors we once had in my senior year of High School in Emmetsburg Iowa, a small farming community of ten thousand souls.
My mother, father, and four of us kids lived in a house on the outskirts of the town on an acre that was shared with another house in which lived a reclusive couple in their forties.
There was a battery lying in the field behind both the houses. It had been there for several weeks until one day I decided to pick it up and take it and sell it for fifty cents. Just as I leaned down and got my hands on it, the lady came out of her house and yelled at me, saying, "Leave that alone. It's ours."
Now, I knew damn well that the battery wasn't hers. Somebody had simply left it there as junk. But my mother had already said something about being careful with those people, so I walked away and left the battery, saying nothing.
The weekly paper had, about this time, been publishing articles about a rash of thieves stealing from the farmers around there. One day I read in the paper about our anti-social neighbors being caught by a farmer and his daughter (who was in my grade) lying in wait with a shotgun as the thieves were driving down the lane coming out of the farmer's acreage. The couple got out of their car before they reached the farmer and started throwing stolen coal out of the car.
Warmed the cockles is what that article did. To be in the paper for the whole community to read and know about. Not only thieves, but pretty stupid as well. Way to go, idiots!
My son wrote me and told me that he lives next to a couple in the same apartment complex. He said that "none of us like them," that no one talks to them or even looks at them. "Anti-social nasty people," as my son puts it.
He said they have four cars for two people. They park one car to block two spaces, so two cars block four spaces and then they get a little considerate and only use one car for each space. So, two people, four cars, six scarce spaces. Nice people.
When my son told me about this, it reminded me of neighbors we once had in my senior year of High School in Emmetsburg Iowa, a small farming community of ten thousand souls.
My mother, father, and four of us kids lived in a house on the outskirts of the town on an acre that was shared with another house in which lived a reclusive couple in their forties.
There was a battery lying in the field behind both the houses. It had been there for several weeks until one day I decided to pick it up and take it and sell it for fifty cents. Just as I leaned down and got my hands on it, the lady came out of her house and yelled at me, saying, "Leave that alone. It's ours."
Now, I knew damn well that the battery wasn't hers. Somebody had simply left it there as junk. But my mother had already said something about being careful with those people, so I walked away and left the battery, saying nothing.
The weekly paper had, about this time, been publishing articles about a rash of thieves stealing from the farmers around there. One day I read in the paper about our anti-social neighbors being caught by a farmer and his daughter (who was in my grade) lying in wait with a shotgun as the thieves were driving down the lane coming out of the farmer's acreage. The couple got out of their car before they reached the farmer and started throwing stolen coal out of the car.
Warmed the cockles is what that article did. To be in the paper for the whole community to read and know about. Not only thieves, but pretty stupid as well. Way to go, idiots!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
FIRE IN THE HOLE!
Blog number 486******* 03 February 2011
I was watching television the other night and my ankle started itching, so I scratched it with my other foot and felt a bit of pain. I looked and there was a red welt about two inches long, quarter inch wide. I was puzzled. I had my wife look at it and tell me what she thought it could be. She said it looked like I had scraped my foot across a branch or something. I thought and thought, but didn't remember anything like that. So I forgot about it.
The next day I'm taking a shower and as soon as the water hit that welt, I knew from where the injury had come.
Last year I cut off the bottom of my overall pants legs because I had shrunk two inches and the cuffs kept getting caught under my feet. Over time, the cutoff cuffs became scraggly. So I'm out using my weed burning tool and I noticed a little heat around my feet. I looked and my pants cuffs were on fire. Hah!
What I felt when the water hit that welt was where I was burned by my precious tool turning on me. Can't trust anybody.
I was watching television the other night and my ankle started itching, so I scratched it with my other foot and felt a bit of pain. I looked and there was a red welt about two inches long, quarter inch wide. I was puzzled. I had my wife look at it and tell me what she thought it could be. She said it looked like I had scraped my foot across a branch or something. I thought and thought, but didn't remember anything like that. So I forgot about it.
The next day I'm taking a shower and as soon as the water hit that welt, I knew from where the injury had come.
Last year I cut off the bottom of my overall pants legs because I had shrunk two inches and the cuffs kept getting caught under my feet. Over time, the cutoff cuffs became scraggly. So I'm out using my weed burning tool and I noticed a little heat around my feet. I looked and my pants cuffs were on fire. Hah!
What I felt when the water hit that welt was where I was burned by my precious tool turning on me. Can't trust anybody.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
BRUBAKER DAMN IT!
Blog number 485******* 02 February 2011
On the telly news behind me as I sit here writing this, I hear that "they" now think the person that posed for the Mona Lisa was a man. Goody.
Could somebody please explain to me what is so necessary about knowing who the model was for that painting? Will it save lives, make somebody happy, make somebody richer, make my day?
Every few weeks or months, going on lo these many years, somebody comes up with a new opinion as to whom that model was. Was there even a model? Who knows? Who ever can know?
And even if it turns out that it will save lives to find out who the mystery person is, or if that information will make somebody happy and somebody else richer, and even make my day, even if all of this will occur, HOW are we going to find the answer to this most perplexing question? Huh?
We search for the smallest thing, can't find it. We search for the largest thing. Can't find it. We interpret Nostradamus' "predictions" ad nauseam. We opinion vigorously events and things that will never, under any circumstance, ever become fact.
It seems to me that opinions have a much greater reputation than they deserve. We even have people paid great deal of monies to give their opinions on news programs. People on the street are asked to give their opinion about this or that nonsense. As if it could matter to anybody.
Judge Joe Brown has a portion of his program where people can call in and give their opinion as to how the verdict should go. Isn't that a little "way beyond ridiculous"?
Meanwhile, off in the corner, hidden away, are mysteries that are solvable, mysteries that are important in the ways of saving lives, making people happier, making people richer.
But let's not talk abut those mysteries. Because opinions don't count at all with these mysteries. Facts are the only things that matter. And searching out facts is a lot more troublesome than asking someone their opinon.
On the telly news behind me as I sit here writing this, I hear that "they" now think the person that posed for the Mona Lisa was a man. Goody.
Could somebody please explain to me what is so necessary about knowing who the model was for that painting? Will it save lives, make somebody happy, make somebody richer, make my day?
Every few weeks or months, going on lo these many years, somebody comes up with a new opinion as to whom that model was. Was there even a model? Who knows? Who ever can know?
And even if it turns out that it will save lives to find out who the mystery person is, or if that information will make somebody happy and somebody else richer, and even make my day, even if all of this will occur, HOW are we going to find the answer to this most perplexing question? Huh?
We search for the smallest thing, can't find it. We search for the largest thing. Can't find it. We interpret Nostradamus' "predictions" ad nauseam. We opinion vigorously events and things that will never, under any circumstance, ever become fact.
It seems to me that opinions have a much greater reputation than they deserve. We even have people paid great deal of monies to give their opinions on news programs. People on the street are asked to give their opinion about this or that nonsense. As if it could matter to anybody.
Judge Joe Brown has a portion of his program where people can call in and give their opinion as to how the verdict should go. Isn't that a little "way beyond ridiculous"?
Meanwhile, off in the corner, hidden away, are mysteries that are solvable, mysteries that are important in the ways of saving lives, making people happier, making people richer.
But let's not talk abut those mysteries. Because opinions don't count at all with these mysteries. Facts are the only things that matter. And searching out facts is a lot more troublesome than asking someone their opinon.
GIVE 'EM WHAT THEY WANT AND THEY'LL BE HAPPY.
Blog number 484******* 02 February 2011
My son sent the following to me.
Today in class I had this girl who said I was giving her the creeps and could she leave. She said I seemed really creepy to her.
I told her, "Yeah. I get rejected at clubs all the time I asked a woman if the seat next to her was empty and she said yes and if you sit there this seat is gonna be empty."
I told her my parents moved to Arizona to get away from me. I told her I don't have any fingers. I told her, "Poor me."
I kept on in that vein and by the end of the class she was laughing and wanted me to come over and talk to her. Ha ha.
My son sent the following to me.
Today in class I had this girl who said I was giving her the creeps and could she leave. She said I seemed really creepy to her.
I told her, "Yeah. I get rejected at clubs all the time I asked a woman if the seat next to her was empty and she said yes and if you sit there this seat is gonna be empty."
I told her my parents moved to Arizona to get away from me. I told her I don't have any fingers. I told her, "Poor me."
I kept on in that vein and by the end of the class she was laughing and wanted me to come over and talk to her. Ha ha.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
DAMMIT, ALEX! (ANOTHER KARTR STORY)
Blog number 483******* 01 February 2011
I was so proud of Alex and how good he was doing leaving women alone and keeping to himself and how it makes him more attractive to women. I can actually see this.
I wanted him to read this blog entry of my editor's about how good he was doing so that he would be inspired that he's on the right track. Then after talking to him earlier, I came in and saw him back to his old tricks - hitting on this cute brunette. She kept trying to end the conversation and get back to what she was doing but Alex wouldn't have any of that nonsense.
Crap, man. Now it seems like he got so lonely that it made him even more desperate. Like he told himself to try harder, not understanding that relaxing and acceptance would get him what he wants. Nobody likes a pushy salesman.
OK. The woman just left. Dammit Alex!
I was so proud of Alex and how good he was doing leaving women alone and keeping to himself and how it makes him more attractive to women. I can actually see this.
I wanted him to read this blog entry of my editor's about how good he was doing so that he would be inspired that he's on the right track. Then after talking to him earlier, I came in and saw him back to his old tricks - hitting on this cute brunette. She kept trying to end the conversation and get back to what she was doing but Alex wouldn't have any of that nonsense.
Crap, man. Now it seems like he got so lonely that it made him even more desperate. Like he told himself to try harder, not understanding that relaxing and acceptance would get him what he wants. Nobody likes a pushy salesman.
OK. The woman just left. Dammit Alex!
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