Georgia Fans Down Right Worried...
Just in case you aren't paying attention, GT survived fumbling the football on the first play of today's game with Miami to come back to a 13-13 tie at halftime.
Georgia, on the other hand, is down 14-0 after 30 minutes of play.
I know better than to start gloating or celebrating now...check back with me in a couple of hours and I'll let you know.
MORE...
Tech 30, Miami 23 and now it's time to cook dinner
Saturday, October 28, 2006
I See DRUNK People
The Insanity Continues…
Well, it’s only a little over six hours until kickoff down in Jacksonville, and I just returned home with a copy of our local newspaper and a couple of scratch off lottery tickets after having to endure standing in line behind five lovely coeds (or possibly former coeds) at the local convenience store.
Three of the group were yapping on cell phones the entire time they were buying their gum and cigarettes.
I noticed that there was also a line of cars outside of the liquor store at 8:30 AM, and as a result you couldn’t PAY me to drive around the island this evening based on the state most of our visitors are going to be in, Win or Lose.
Speaking of girls, with all due respect to my sister and ex-wife (both Tech grads), but I have to admit that Georgia sure has a BUNCH of good looking women that like to wear the school colors. When I went to Georgia Tech back in the late 1970’s the ratio was about seven men for every one women. Needless to say that my sister had it made when it came to social opportunities, while I sat around by myself most Friday nights carving pumpkins and doing drafting homework this time of year.
Fortunately for me, the Georgia Florida game isn’t the only attraction here in the southeast this afternoon. Georgia Tech is hosting a rather weak Miami team up in Atlanta in our Homecoming game which will be televised regionally on ABC this afternoon, so I‘ll be bouncing back and forth between the two games with the TV remote control.
NASCAR is racing in Atlanta Sunday afternoon, but the other major item on the weekend agenda is my final preparations for my pumpkin carving extravaganza at the Montessori School on Monday. I’m doing the test carving of a friend’s small pumpkin using a reduced size copy of my new pattern. I had to quit fooling with it earlier in the week because I was obsessing over details that will probably be lost on most 10 year old kids.
Any way…I hope your weekend is at least half as much fun as mine will be…and I’ll talk to you all later…
Well, it’s only a little over six hours until kickoff down in Jacksonville, and I just returned home with a copy of our local newspaper and a couple of scratch off lottery tickets after having to endure standing in line behind five lovely coeds (or possibly former coeds) at the local convenience store.
Three of the group were yapping on cell phones the entire time they were buying their gum and cigarettes.
I noticed that there was also a line of cars outside of the liquor store at 8:30 AM, and as a result you couldn’t PAY me to drive around the island this evening based on the state most of our visitors are going to be in, Win or Lose.
Speaking of girls, with all due respect to my sister and ex-wife (both Tech grads), but I have to admit that Georgia sure has a BUNCH of good looking women that like to wear the school colors. When I went to Georgia Tech back in the late 1970’s the ratio was about seven men for every one women. Needless to say that my sister had it made when it came to social opportunities, while I sat around by myself most Friday nights carving pumpkins and doing drafting homework this time of year.
Fortunately for me, the Georgia Florida game isn’t the only attraction here in the southeast this afternoon. Georgia Tech is hosting a rather weak Miami team up in Atlanta in our Homecoming game which will be televised regionally on ABC this afternoon, so I‘ll be bouncing back and forth between the two games with the TV remote control.
NASCAR is racing in Atlanta Sunday afternoon, but the other major item on the weekend agenda is my final preparations for my pumpkin carving extravaganza at the Montessori School on Monday. I’m doing the test carving of a friend’s small pumpkin using a reduced size copy of my new pattern. I had to quit fooling with it earlier in the week because I was obsessing over details that will probably be lost on most 10 year old kids.
Any way…I hope your weekend is at least half as much fun as mine will be…and I’ll talk to you all later…
Friday, October 27, 2006
Rainy Night In Georgia
Sorry I'm Neglecting My Readers
There was a time, years ago (it seems like it was almost in another lifetime), back in the days when I had a REAL job selling millions of dollars of fancy doodads and doohickeys to high powered companies like Michelin, Georgia Pacific, Phillip Morris, and Anheuser-Busch, that I was forced into facing the arduous task of actually rising from my bed early each morning, shaving and showering, and driving my auto somewhere to do something somewhere for somebody.
Not so these days...at least for most of the past six or eight years.
But…
For the past year or so, starting out as a hobby, I gotten involved with a friend's business doing some Forensic consulting Engineering, and in the process I'm afraid that I've possibly inadvertently stumbled back into the professional workforce.
Dang it.
After recently flirting with the idea of working as a fry cook, newspaper writer, and a brain surgeon (in the style of Jethro Bodine), I’ve been secretly attempting to re-enter the consulting engineering business, and now it would appear that I’m on the verge of actually having to put my empty wallet were my mouth is (I’m sure that you’ll excuse the mental picture.)
Word has it that everyone’s astir up in Western Canada about a series of seminars which Wayne and I have developed called “Understanding Life Threatening Steam Water Hammer.”
Specifically, our latest victims reside in a place called Ft. McMurray, Alberta, Canada, an area that sits on top of one of the largest tar-sand deposits on the entire planet.
Unlike the eco-Nazis and other tree huggers here in the US, the Canadian government has had the foresight to actually allow oil companies to tap this resource and today we all most likely drive around with some of the products produced by “Syncrude” in our vehicle’s gas tanks.
Any way, as of today, I’m expecting to spend my Thanksgiving bitching and complaining while driving around in the snow while assisting delivering the lectures I‘m selling.
I hate to admit it, but to my estimation, as my health continues to improve, my choice is either work or boredom, and there seems to be a fine line somewhere there in between.
There was a time, years ago (it seems like it was almost in another lifetime), back in the days when I had a REAL job selling millions of dollars of fancy doodads and doohickeys to high powered companies like Michelin, Georgia Pacific, Phillip Morris, and Anheuser-Busch, that I was forced into facing the arduous task of actually rising from my bed early each morning, shaving and showering, and driving my auto somewhere to do something somewhere for somebody.
Not so these days...at least for most of the past six or eight years.
But…
For the past year or so, starting out as a hobby, I gotten involved with a friend's business doing some Forensic consulting Engineering, and in the process I'm afraid that I've possibly inadvertently stumbled back into the professional workforce.
Dang it.
After recently flirting with the idea of working as a fry cook, newspaper writer, and a brain surgeon (in the style of Jethro Bodine), I’ve been secretly attempting to re-enter the consulting engineering business, and now it would appear that I’m on the verge of actually having to put my empty wallet were my mouth is (I’m sure that you’ll excuse the mental picture.)
Word has it that everyone’s astir up in Western Canada about a series of seminars which Wayne and I have developed called “Understanding Life Threatening Steam Water Hammer.”
Specifically, our latest victims reside in a place called Ft. McMurray, Alberta, Canada, an area that sits on top of one of the largest tar-sand deposits on the entire planet.
Unlike the eco-Nazis and other tree huggers here in the US, the Canadian government has had the foresight to actually allow oil companies to tap this resource and today we all most likely drive around with some of the products produced by “Syncrude” in our vehicle’s gas tanks.
Any way, as of today, I’m expecting to spend my Thanksgiving bitching and complaining while driving around in the snow while assisting delivering the lectures I‘m selling.
I hate to admit it, but to my estimation, as my health continues to improve, my choice is either work or boredom, and there seems to be a fine line somewhere there in between.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
We're Under Assault
AAAHHHHHAaaaaaaaahhhhh--Its' Georgia-Florida Weekend
The hoards are already arriving here on the island. Quick…Everybody…run somewhere and hide.
IT’S GEORGIA FLORIDA WEEKEND…OR FLORIDA GEORGIA WEEKEND if you live down there in Gainesville.
They call it "The Worlds Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party", wrapped around a college football game.
God help us all.
The more affluent one's (the fans) have been trickling in since last weekend.
Nothing personal, but the locals here on our little island that don’t sell food or drinks or hats with a big G or Alligator face on them hate this weekend every year.
Picture Mardi Gras or St. Patrick’s Day, crammed onto an island with a population of less than 17 thousand. This weekend we’ll probably hover somewhere near 30K--most of the visitors staggering, stumbling, studdering stinking drunk for the duration of their entire visit.
Even our little condo development will be assaulted with morons that think that we are used to picking up beer cans and fast food bags from our parking lot year 'round.
I made the mistake of taking Pat out to my friend John Howton’s Blackwater Grill for dinner the first year we resided here and when the evening was over with, she had almost gotten ME into finishing at least a half dozen arguments that could have escalated into fist fights--and those were mostly with WOMEN.
The men were generally well behaved, at least by drunken football fan standards.
I’m pulling the bicycles inside, stopping by the grocery store and liquor store this afternoon, and boarding up the windows and doors to wait for their departure.
If you Pray, Pray for us, and otherwise...wish us good luck...
The hoards are already arriving here on the island. Quick…Everybody…run somewhere and hide.
IT’S GEORGIA FLORIDA WEEKEND…OR FLORIDA GEORGIA WEEKEND if you live down there in Gainesville.
They call it "The Worlds Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party", wrapped around a college football game.
God help us all.
The more affluent one's (the fans) have been trickling in since last weekend.
Nothing personal, but the locals here on our little island that don’t sell food or drinks or hats with a big G or Alligator face on them hate this weekend every year.
Picture Mardi Gras or St. Patrick’s Day, crammed onto an island with a population of less than 17 thousand. This weekend we’ll probably hover somewhere near 30K--most of the visitors staggering, stumbling, studdering stinking drunk for the duration of their entire visit.
Even our little condo development will be assaulted with morons that think that we are used to picking up beer cans and fast food bags from our parking lot year 'round.
I made the mistake of taking Pat out to my friend John Howton’s Blackwater Grill for dinner the first year we resided here and when the evening was over with, she had almost gotten ME into finishing at least a half dozen arguments that could have escalated into fist fights--and those were mostly with WOMEN.
The men were generally well behaved, at least by drunken football fan standards.
I’m pulling the bicycles inside, stopping by the grocery store and liquor store this afternoon, and boarding up the windows and doors to wait for their departure.
If you Pray, Pray for us, and otherwise...wish us good luck...
Everybody
Would You Get A Grip On Yourself…PLEASE?
OK, I’ll start out this morning by saying that I’m sorry if I need to be, but I have to emphatically state that I just don’t give a damn what Michael J. Fox has to say about anything--embryonic stem cell research included.
If Mr.Parkinson Fox wants to slink off to some foreign country and impregnate a gross of women (or even 144 gross women), then harvest the embryos and feed them to chickens, I say that the issue should be between God, the local officials, and the fathers of the women (and possibly the owner of the chickens.)
The part of this issue that keeps being missed by most of the general public and omitted by ALL of the stupid moronic so called professional journalists in the lamestream media is that embryonic stem cell research is legal in most places in the world--President Bush and the US Congress just hasn‘t thus far decided to confiscate any of my money to pay for the efforts.
If, however, YOU have an extra twenty dollars and want to sponsor killing a few excess humans, I suggest that you go on the internet, find yourself an organization that supports the process, and I’ll send you a stamp to put on your envelope because chances are at least 50/50 that anyone that would allow their eggs to be used in such a manner would also produce and rear offspring that would grow up to be a freaking Nancy Pelosi California liberal anyway.
Now, having pissed off most of the liberals and all of the feminists with my introductory rant this morning, let me continue by alienating most of the aliens--both legal and illegal.
Have you heard about the flap that’s been going on up in Minnesota with the airport taxi drivers and passengers carrying alcohol?
Check this crap out…
The taxi controversy at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport has caught the nation's attention. But the dispute may go deeper than the quandary over whether to accommodate Somali Muslim cabdrivers who refuse to carry passengers carrying alcohol.
Behind the scenes, a struggle for power and religious authority is apparently playing out.
At the Starbucks coffee shop in Minneapolis' Cedar-Riverside neighborhood, a favorite Somali gathering spot, holidaymakers celebrating Eid, the end of Ramadan, filled the tables on Monday. Several taxis were parked outside.
An animated circle of Somalis gathered when the question of the airport controversy was raised.
"I was surprised and shocked when I heard it was an issue at the airport," said Faysal Omar.
"Back in Somalia, there was never any problem with taking alcohol in a taxi."
Jama Dirie said, "If a driver doesn't pick up everyone, he should get his license canceled and get kicked out of the airport."
I have a couple of things to say about this issue, and I have to admit that rational consideration has overridden my initial knee-jerk reaction which was basically this:
“Get the $%&# out of MY country if you don‘t like it…”
First of all, if I own the vehicle, I believe that I should be allowed to determine the behavior of anyone which I choose to provide my services to. In that respect, I'll give our Somalia friends the same courtesy.
That said, I also believe that when you enlist yourself in providing licensed services to the public in return for financial compensation, you also accept certain overall intrusions into your personal space in return for said compensation.
In Somalia, while I would never presume to just wander over and jump into your car wearing blue leotards and a red cape, I would also expect that in NYC or Minneapolis on October 31st you might reasonably expect to haul a man in a gorilla suit and a woman dressed as a French maid from one local to another because it’s Halloween here in America.
"Hey Abdul, over here we have something called disposeable income, and unlike you we’re not busy sending it all back to Africa via Western Union…you know?
By the way, I'll admit that we Americans have vices...we like to do unhealthy things like buying edible underwear that tastes like biscuits and gravy for our women, and it's none of your nappy headed business what color that underwear is, at least as long as we all keep our pants on in your taxicab."
Now this doesn’t mean that I expect our lovely Somali friends to be forced to allow liquor soaked imbibers to splash vodka all over the back seats of their 1976 Impalas on the trip to the Holiday Inn Express, thereby overcoming the pungent aromas of the incense and goat hooves burning on the crinkled, cracked vinyl dash board.
No, it just means that if I happen to have a flask of bourbon or a bottle of wine that I’m intent on taking to my room on my way from the airport at 11 PM (after the hotel bar has already closed) that they should shut their Muslim yaps, pay attention to traffic rather than what I’m hauling around in my carry-on bag, and remember that they are in the By-God-United-States of America, not Africa
And on second thought, if any of these Muslim Taxi drivers continue to have a problem with ME and my bad habits, they should just get the %$#@& OUT of MY country.
There..I said it..because most people are too chicken to speak up, dang it....
OK, I’ll start out this morning by saying that I’m sorry if I need to be, but I have to emphatically state that I just don’t give a damn what Michael J. Fox has to say about anything--embryonic stem cell research included.
If Mr.
The part of this issue that keeps being missed by most of the general public and omitted by ALL of the stupid moronic so called professional journalists in the lamestream media is that embryonic stem cell research is legal in most places in the world--President Bush and the US Congress just hasn‘t thus far decided to confiscate any of my money to pay for the efforts.
If, however, YOU have an extra twenty dollars and want to sponsor killing a few excess humans, I suggest that you go on the internet, find yourself an organization that supports the process, and I’ll send you a stamp to put on your envelope because chances are at least 50/50 that anyone that would allow their eggs to be used in such a manner would also produce and rear offspring that would grow up to be a freaking Nancy Pelosi California liberal anyway.
Now, having pissed off most of the liberals and all of the feminists with my introductory rant this morning, let me continue by alienating most of the aliens--both legal and illegal.
Have you heard about the flap that’s been going on up in Minnesota with the airport taxi drivers and passengers carrying alcohol?
Check this crap out…
The taxi controversy at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport has caught the nation's attention. But the dispute may go deeper than the quandary over whether to accommodate Somali Muslim cabdrivers who refuse to carry passengers carrying alcohol.
Behind the scenes, a struggle for power and religious authority is apparently playing out.
At the Starbucks coffee shop in Minneapolis' Cedar-Riverside neighborhood, a favorite Somali gathering spot, holidaymakers celebrating Eid, the end of Ramadan, filled the tables on Monday. Several taxis were parked outside.
An animated circle of Somalis gathered when the question of the airport controversy was raised.
"I was surprised and shocked when I heard it was an issue at the airport," said Faysal Omar.
"Back in Somalia, there was never any problem with taking alcohol in a taxi."
Jama Dirie said, "If a driver doesn't pick up everyone, he should get his license canceled and get kicked out of the airport."
I have a couple of things to say about this issue, and I have to admit that rational consideration has overridden my initial knee-jerk reaction which was basically this:
“Get the $%&# out of MY country if you don‘t like it…”
First of all, if I own the vehicle, I believe that I should be allowed to determine the behavior of anyone which I choose to provide my services to. In that respect, I'll give our Somalia friends the same courtesy.
That said, I also believe that when you enlist yourself in providing licensed services to the public in return for financial compensation, you also accept certain overall intrusions into your personal space in return for said compensation.
In Somalia, while I would never presume to just wander over and jump into your car wearing blue leotards and a red cape, I would also expect that in NYC or Minneapolis on October 31st you might reasonably expect to haul a man in a gorilla suit and a woman dressed as a French maid from one local to another because it’s Halloween here in America.
"Hey Abdul, over here we have something called disposeable income, and unlike you we’re not busy sending it all back to Africa via Western Union…you know?
By the way, I'll admit that we Americans have vices...we like to do unhealthy things like buying edible underwear that tastes like biscuits and gravy for our women, and it's none of your nappy headed business what color that underwear is, at least as long as we all keep our pants on in your taxicab."
Now this doesn’t mean that I expect our lovely Somali friends to be forced to allow liquor soaked imbibers to splash vodka all over the back seats of their 1976 Impalas on the trip to the Holiday Inn Express, thereby overcoming the pungent aromas of the incense and goat hooves burning on the crinkled, cracked vinyl dash board.
No, it just means that if I happen to have a flask of bourbon or a bottle of wine that I’m intent on taking to my room on my way from the airport at 11 PM (after the hotel bar has already closed) that they should shut their Muslim yaps, pay attention to traffic rather than what I’m hauling around in my carry-on bag, and remember that they are in the By-God-United-States of America, not Africa
And on second thought, if any of these Muslim Taxi drivers continue to have a problem with ME and my bad habits, they should just get the %$#@& OUT of MY country.
There..I said it..because most people are too chicken to speak up, dang it....
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
OK...Just When You Think I've Said It All...Read THIS
A blog acquaintance of mine, a fellow southerner and widely read blogger that had the misfortune of dieing last summer of a pulmonary embolism, wrote this little ditty back in March of 2005, and his daughter just re-posted it as a greatest hit on his blog site recently.
In the process, it reminded me that I couldn't have said it better myself, so I'm taking the liberty of publishing the Acidman's words from over at Gut Rumbles here in their entirety:
10 reasons Why I [really don't] Hate Black People
In response to the email posted below:
1) I DON'T hate black people. But a lot of people believe that I do, so f**k it.
2) Racism exists in this country and I'm sorry to say that it always will. So will sexism, classism, eliteism and every other kind of "ism" you can name. People have ALWAYS picked on anyone they could, and they always will. That's simple human nature and you'll see it over and over again if you study history.
3) Being black is no excuse for failure. You may have a steeper climb, but you can make it. Look around. A lot of black people have. You can do it, too.
4) Stop making your own bed and bitching about sleeping in it. Black people who listen to Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton and expect the government to give them something for nothing are blind sheep. Those "leaders" have a vested interest in keeping the slaves on the plantation. If you listen to them, that's where you'll stay.
5) Learn to read and write. That's not "acting white." That's the key to success anywhere you want to go. And ANYBODY can master those tools.
6) Nobody ever said life was fair. It ain't and it never will be. Get over that fact. You're not the only people ever pissed on by life. Look at the Jews and the Vietnamese. THEY were pissed on, but they didn't lay there in the puddle to be pissed on again.
7) I've never liked labor unions because they preach the lowest common denominator as a standard for performance. I do not believe that we should dumb down the rest of society, create "4.6" GPAs and engage in the tacit racism of low expectations for black people. That kind of crap only exacerbates the problem.
8) Black men: raise your goddam children. I've heard this shit too often to recall--- some 20-something black guy bragging to his buddies at work that he KNOWS he's a man because he's sired three children by different wimmen. He doesn't know his kid's names, but that doesn't matter to him. He thinks he's a man. Dogs do what he did. Fathers don't.
9) Accept responsibility for your own actions. I know that it's a lot to ask in today's victim-oriented society, but do you really believe that hip-hop and rap, ebonics and baggy pants are the way to get out of the ghetto? I don't think so. I believe it's the way to keep yourself mired there and it's YOUR CHOICE TO MAKE.
10) Blame all of your problems on ME. That's right. If you are unemployed, living on a welfare check, semi-raising illegitimate children and unable to read the want ads in the newspaper, I DID THAT TO YOU. Me. Whitey. It ain't YOUR fault. Racist bastards such as myself took away every opportunity in your life, made you drop out of school and become pregnant or a jailbird and bitter because manna from heaven didn't fall right into your lap. Just do me one simple favor. Take a good, long look in the mirror before you point a finger at me.
Okay, there's a racist rant. Now, all you bleeding hearts and Acidman-haters can have a field day with it.
In the process, it reminded me that I couldn't have said it better myself, so I'm taking the liberty of publishing the Acidman's words from over at Gut Rumbles here in their entirety:
10 reasons Why I [really don't] Hate Black People
In response to the email posted below:
1) I DON'T hate black people. But a lot of people believe that I do, so f**k it.
2) Racism exists in this country and I'm sorry to say that it always will. So will sexism, classism, eliteism and every other kind of "ism" you can name. People have ALWAYS picked on anyone they could, and they always will. That's simple human nature and you'll see it over and over again if you study history.
3) Being black is no excuse for failure. You may have a steeper climb, but you can make it. Look around. A lot of black people have. You can do it, too.
4) Stop making your own bed and bitching about sleeping in it. Black people who listen to Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton and expect the government to give them something for nothing are blind sheep. Those "leaders" have a vested interest in keeping the slaves on the plantation. If you listen to them, that's where you'll stay.
5) Learn to read and write. That's not "acting white." That's the key to success anywhere you want to go. And ANYBODY can master those tools.
6) Nobody ever said life was fair. It ain't and it never will be. Get over that fact. You're not the only people ever pissed on by life. Look at the Jews and the Vietnamese. THEY were pissed on, but they didn't lay there in the puddle to be pissed on again.
7) I've never liked labor unions because they preach the lowest common denominator as a standard for performance. I do not believe that we should dumb down the rest of society, create "4.6" GPAs and engage in the tacit racism of low expectations for black people. That kind of crap only exacerbates the problem.
8) Black men: raise your goddam children. I've heard this shit too often to recall--- some 20-something black guy bragging to his buddies at work that he KNOWS he's a man because he's sired three children by different wimmen. He doesn't know his kid's names, but that doesn't matter to him. He thinks he's a man. Dogs do what he did. Fathers don't.
9) Accept responsibility for your own actions. I know that it's a lot to ask in today's victim-oriented society, but do you really believe that hip-hop and rap, ebonics and baggy pants are the way to get out of the ghetto? I don't think so. I believe it's the way to keep yourself mired there and it's YOUR CHOICE TO MAKE.
10) Blame all of your problems on ME. That's right. If you are unemployed, living on a welfare check, semi-raising illegitimate children and unable to read the want ads in the newspaper, I DID THAT TO YOU. Me. Whitey. It ain't YOUR fault. Racist bastards such as myself took away every opportunity in your life, made you drop out of school and become pregnant or a jailbird and bitter because manna from heaven didn't fall right into your lap. Just do me one simple favor. Take a good, long look in the mirror before you point a finger at me.
Okay, there's a racist rant. Now, all you bleeding hearts and Acidman-haters can have a field day with it.
Shuuussshhhhh
I'm Working...
OK folks, I know that there's a whole bunch of stuff going on out there in the world that's just BEGGING me to make some of my patented irreverent commentary on and/or about, but I haven't found the time because I'm actually busy doing something that I rarely do...WORKING.
Meanwhile, it's turned off a bit chilly down here on our little island--actually recording a record low temp yesterday morning. Needless to say the bike stayed parked on the rack on my bumper last night.
One thing which I want to mention is that, as you probably already know, we've got an election coming up in less than two weeks. Why not do the rest of the population a favor and find out the names of the candidates on your local ballot and consider putting an X beside said name based on a reason other than the "D" or "R" listed on your computer screen or hanging by your "hanging chads?"
I just hate people that do their voting by default, and I'd like to think that the people that stop by here to read my rantings are smarter than that.
Now you have my permission to go back to whatever you were doing...
OK folks, I know that there's a whole bunch of stuff going on out there in the world that's just BEGGING me to make some of my patented irreverent commentary on and/or about, but I haven't found the time because I'm actually busy doing something that I rarely do...WORKING.
Meanwhile, it's turned off a bit chilly down here on our little island--actually recording a record low temp yesterday morning. Needless to say the bike stayed parked on the rack on my bumper last night.
One thing which I want to mention is that, as you probably already know, we've got an election coming up in less than two weeks. Why not do the rest of the population a favor and find out the names of the candidates on your local ballot and consider putting an X beside said name based on a reason other than the "D" or "R" listed on your computer screen or hanging by your "hanging chads?"
I just hate people that do their voting by default, and I'd like to think that the people that stop by here to read my rantings are smarter than that.
Now you have my permission to go back to whatever you were doing...
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Things I Saw This Week
And I bet YOU Didn't...
It’s 37 degrees Fahrenheit down here on our little island this morning, but even as winter comes upon us here in the Golden Isles, our fine feathered friends continue to amaze me with their presence and antics.
The bad news is that we lost one of our young Cardinal’s to a window strike on the front patio this week. I’m afraid that our giant panes of glass surrounding our living room on the front and rear of the condo have killed more birds than we realize over the years, particularly when our drapes are open--as we lost another little guy or gal a few weeks ago from another collision with our front window.
The good news is that we’ve had the opportunity to visit with a number of BIG birds at close range recently. Pat and I spent about five minutes last weekend sitting in the car about 50’ away watching a young Red Tailed Hawk stand in a rain puddle in our parking lot drinking his or her fill of water.
Early Sunday morning about 4 AM, while doing my nocturnal bike ride, I had an encounter with our local Great Horned Owl that I’ve been “talking to” on and off for the past couple of years.
By “talking to,” I mean having a hooting competition.
I can’t and won’t try to write the syllables of the conversation down here on the blog for you to read, but I honestly believe that the big bird responds to the noises which I make. Feel free to call the authorities and have a straight-jacket delivered if you will.
Finally, yesterday, a giant blue Heron came squawking 50 feet up in the air across our heads and landed on the roof of our building while we were standing out in our front yard, flapped and flopped around doing some personal preening, then squawked a few more times and fluttered off back to the lake adjacent to the nearby 18th hole of our golf course.
I truly LOVE living here…
It’s 37 degrees Fahrenheit down here on our little island this morning, but even as winter comes upon us here in the Golden Isles, our fine feathered friends continue to amaze me with their presence and antics.
The bad news is that we lost one of our young Cardinal’s to a window strike on the front patio this week. I’m afraid that our giant panes of glass surrounding our living room on the front and rear of the condo have killed more birds than we realize over the years, particularly when our drapes are open--as we lost another little guy or gal a few weeks ago from another collision with our front window.
The good news is that we’ve had the opportunity to visit with a number of BIG birds at close range recently. Pat and I spent about five minutes last weekend sitting in the car about 50’ away watching a young Red Tailed Hawk stand in a rain puddle in our parking lot drinking his or her fill of water.
Early Sunday morning about 4 AM, while doing my nocturnal bike ride, I had an encounter with our local Great Horned Owl that I’ve been “talking to” on and off for the past couple of years.
By “talking to,” I mean having a hooting competition.
I can’t and won’t try to write the syllables of the conversation down here on the blog for you to read, but I honestly believe that the big bird responds to the noises which I make. Feel free to call the authorities and have a straight-jacket delivered if you will.
Finally, yesterday, a giant blue Heron came squawking 50 feet up in the air across our heads and landed on the roof of our building while we were standing out in our front yard, flapped and flopped around doing some personal preening, then squawked a few more times and fluttered off back to the lake adjacent to the nearby 18th hole of our golf course.
I truly LOVE living here…
Sunday, October 22, 2006
I Got A Didgeridoo
Are They Legal Where You Live, And Am I Weird Or What?
I've been wanting one of these for a couple of years now, so I just picked one up tonight on the Internet from some hippies out in California:
I've been wanting one of these for a couple of years now, so I just picked one up tonight on the Internet from some hippies out in California:
(No Rusty, I'm gonna play music on it...not smoke it...and I have to come up with my own feathers and vegetation to wear while playing it...)
What it is is a "Didgeridoo", an instrument designed by the native Australian Aboriginal Peoples.
I've had some success in the past playing wind instruments like the trumpet and the harmonica, I know that I've had limited success with and could probably play the piano successfully in public if I bought one and put my mind to it, and I've fiddled (excuse the pun) with the violin a little but found it and the guitar to be of lessor interest and greater effort than I could muster with my scatter-brained lifestyle.
Enter the Didgeridoo, stage right...
These things are really cool sounding. They make that eerie woooommmmm waaaaawwwwww wooommmmmm waaaaaaawwww "droning" sound that you've heard in the movies and on TV.
No, I don't expect to make any money playing my Didgeridoo for throngs of cheering fans anytime in the near future, I just want to display mine in my living room and piss Pat off while she's trying to sleep entertain myself late at night when I'm tired of blogging.
Next on the acquisition list is a pair of Caribbean Style Steel Drums...something like this would do nicely:
I've got to go now...I need time to practice my circular breathing...
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
My Haunted House
Pumpkin Carving Ideas
What about this for a carving design?
Comments...Questions...Suggestions???
I'm the Pumpkin Pie King Pied Piper
More Public Art...At Private Expense
Well, the phone call came in here about 11 AM.
I have a 150 pound pumpkin, and now on October 30th I have an audience of 95 kids to watch me carve it into something as yet to be determined.
Anyone got any good Ideas?
Well, the phone call came in here about 11 AM.
I have a 150 pound pumpkin, and now on October 30th I have an audience of 95 kids to watch me carve it into something as yet to be determined.
Anyone got any good Ideas?
Where Do We Go?
And How Many People Do We Have To Slap?
Forget my head exploding...
Forget my head rotating (even at supersonic velocity)...
I'm just turning red in the face and standing up while writing this posting.
Just look at this crap:
ATTLEBORO, Mass. - Tag, you're out! Officials at an elementary school south of Boston have banned kids from playing tag, touch football and any other unsupervised chase game during recess for fear they'll get hurt and hold the school liable.
Recess is "a time when accidents can happen," said Willett Elementary School Principal Gaylene Heppe, who approved the ban.
While there is no districtwide ban on contact sports during recess, local rules have been cropping up. Several school administrators around Attleboro, a city of about 45,000 residents, took aim at dodgeball a few years ago, saying it was exclusionary and dangerous.
Elementary schools in Cheyenne, Wyo., and Spokane, Wash., also recently banned tag during recess. A suburban Charleston, S.C., school outlawed all unsupervised contact sports.
"I think that it's unfortunate that kids' lives are micromanaged and there are social skills they'll never develop on their own," said Debbie Laferriere, who has two children at Willett, about 40 miles south of Boston. "Playing tag is just part of being a kid."
Another Willett parent, Celeste D'Elia, said her son feels safer because of the rule. "I've witnessed enough near collisions," she said.
Dang it ladies and gentlemen, but I think that, instead of carving my big Pumpkin, I'll just drive up to Massachusetts and drop it on one of the school board member’s feet.
My pumpkin obviously has more brains than all of these Politically Correct Boston liberals.
IDIOTS...
Forget my head exploding...
Forget my head rotating (even at supersonic velocity)...
I'm just turning red in the face and standing up while writing this posting.
Just look at this crap:
ATTLEBORO, Mass. - Tag, you're out! Officials at an elementary school south of Boston have banned kids from playing tag, touch football and any other unsupervised chase game during recess for fear they'll get hurt and hold the school liable.
Recess is "a time when accidents can happen," said Willett Elementary School Principal Gaylene Heppe, who approved the ban.
While there is no districtwide ban on contact sports during recess, local rules have been cropping up. Several school administrators around Attleboro, a city of about 45,000 residents, took aim at dodgeball a few years ago, saying it was exclusionary and dangerous.
Elementary schools in Cheyenne, Wyo., and Spokane, Wash., also recently banned tag during recess. A suburban Charleston, S.C., school outlawed all unsupervised contact sports.
"I think that it's unfortunate that kids' lives are micromanaged and there are social skills they'll never develop on their own," said Debbie Laferriere, who has two children at Willett, about 40 miles south of Boston. "Playing tag is just part of being a kid."
Another Willett parent, Celeste D'Elia, said her son feels safer because of the rule. "I've witnessed enough near collisions," she said.
Dang it ladies and gentlemen, but I think that, instead of carving my big Pumpkin, I'll just drive up to Massachusetts and drop it on one of the school board member’s feet.
My pumpkin obviously has more brains than all of these Politically Correct Boston liberals.
IDIOTS...
So Many Lawyers...
So Few Legitimate Torts Little Time…
Would somebody please take a look atthis stupid crap this so called “news” story for a moment and explain these peoples' logic to me?
Go ahead and take your time…
I’ve got the rest of my life…
Here’s an excerpt for those of you too lazy to click on the link:
MARION, Ind. - Relatives of a university student misidentified as a classmate who was killed in highway accident have told officials they plan to sue over handling of the crash.
The so-called tort claim on behalf of survivor Whitney Cerak, her parents and sister targets the actions of Grant County Coroner Ron Mowery in identifying four Taylor University students and one employee who were killed in the April 26 crash.
Grant County officials on Monday received the tort claim, a legal step required under state law before a government agency can be sued. The claim argues Mowery was "not properly trained and educated" as a coroner and that he "failed to exercise reasonable care" to avoid the misidentification.
The claim seeks unspecified damages for emotional trauma.
So think about this with me for a minute...someone you love with all of your heart is reported to be killed in a car accident, then two weeks later you find out that they are actually still alive.
What do you do, sue the messenger?
If that were the case, the US Army would have gone out of business in WWI as a result of lawsuits over inaccurate killed/missing in action reports delivered to mothers and wives here stateside.
Two wrongs never make things right, and in this case this lawsuit appears to be totally unwarranted and totally absurd.
That's not to say that there's not a good chance that, given our current legal climate, they might not win a judgment in their favor, but will their windfall be based on additional medical costs caused by the coroner's proported negligence (and there were no costs--the young lady went straight to the hospital from the accident scene...) or our "jackpot mentality" touted by the legions of Tort Lawyers wandering late night TV commercials and printing ads on the back of your local Yellowpage Phone Books.
Some of you may remember the original story about the April 26th crash involving a tractor trailer and a College van, killing five and severely injuring four of the vehicle’s occupants.
The Cerak family’s argument and resulting lawsuit results from the fact that at first they were told that their 19 year old daughter, Whitney Cerak, was killed in the accident, and continued to believe that she was dead for a couple of weeks.
It was actually 22-year-old Laura VanRyn who was the fatally injured victim.
The VanRyn family kept vigil beside Whitney’s bedside for a couple of weeks, only realizing her true identity when she awoke from her coma and was able to speak coherently.
So why aren't the Cerak's suing the VanRyn's also, since they couldn't tell their own mutilated daughter from the Cerak's mutilated daughter?
I also like to point out that a key point of the lawsuit questions the coroner's "handling" of the accident victims.
Let's see here...the dead people were buried, and the live people were sent to the hospital, weren't they?
It's not like that the coroner sent the live girl to the morgue (thereby denying her of emergency medical treatment) or hit her in the head with a hammer to stop her from thrashing around at the accident scene--at least as far as I've heard.
So are the VanRyn's out there somewhere waiting to see the outcome of the Cerak's legal follies, in anticipation of hitting the financial jackpot themselves?
Probably, but maybe not...
My position here is that this family should be content to rejoice that Whitney actually survived her ordeal, then shut up and go sit home and in church with their recently recovered daughter, all the time counting their blessings, rather than hiring a lawyer and suing the county for a coroner’s innocent mistake.
After all, it’s common published knowledge that the girls bore a striking resemblance to each other, and in this day and time of many kids having virtually cavity free teeth, even dental records might not have provided any assistance in the identification process.
I also suspect that some member of the Cerak family was asked to do an initial identification of the body of VanRyn, and there might not have been an autopsy, but the family could possibly share some responsibility for the mistake.
Further, maybe these two young women were in the2% small minority of young women in the US that don’t have rings and studs protruding from their faces and tattoos covering their breasts and the small of their backs--making the identification process even harder.
Regardless, I think that if anyone should be the target of the lawsuit, it should be the truck driver that caused the accident and possibly the trucking company that operated the equipment.
And in a final moment of political incorrectness, I have to admit that if I were the coroner, I’d be tempted to ask if the Cerak family would drop the lawsuit if I rented a truck and finished what the other driver started.
(OK, I just felt like saying the last paragraph, but I really don't think like that, so don't be e-mailing me with your whiny complaints...)
Would somebody please take a look at
Go ahead and take your time…
I’ve got the rest of my life…
Here’s an excerpt for those of you too lazy to click on the link:
MARION, Ind. - Relatives of a university student misidentified as a classmate who was killed in highway accident have told officials they plan to sue over handling of the crash.
The so-called tort claim on behalf of survivor Whitney Cerak, her parents and sister targets the actions of Grant County Coroner Ron Mowery in identifying four Taylor University students and one employee who were killed in the April 26 crash.
Grant County officials on Monday received the tort claim, a legal step required under state law before a government agency can be sued. The claim argues Mowery was "not properly trained and educated" as a coroner and that he "failed to exercise reasonable care" to avoid the misidentification.
The claim seeks unspecified damages for emotional trauma.
So think about this with me for a minute...someone you love with all of your heart is reported to be killed in a car accident, then two weeks later you find out that they are actually still alive.
What do you do, sue the messenger?
If that were the case, the US Army would have gone out of business in WWI as a result of lawsuits over inaccurate killed/missing in action reports delivered to mothers and wives here stateside.
Two wrongs never make things right, and in this case this lawsuit appears to be totally unwarranted and totally absurd.
That's not to say that there's not a good chance that, given our current legal climate, they might not win a judgment in their favor, but will their windfall be based on additional medical costs caused by the coroner's proported negligence (and there were no costs--the young lady went straight to the hospital from the accident scene...) or our "jackpot mentality" touted by the legions of Tort Lawyers wandering late night TV commercials and printing ads on the back of your local Yellowpage Phone Books.
Some of you may remember the original story about the April 26th crash involving a tractor trailer and a College van, killing five and severely injuring four of the vehicle’s occupants.
The Cerak family’s argument and resulting lawsuit results from the fact that at first they were told that their 19 year old daughter, Whitney Cerak, was killed in the accident, and continued to believe that she was dead for a couple of weeks.
It was actually 22-year-old Laura VanRyn who was the fatally injured victim.
The VanRyn family kept vigil beside Whitney’s bedside for a couple of weeks, only realizing her true identity when she awoke from her coma and was able to speak coherently.
So why aren't the Cerak's suing the VanRyn's also, since they couldn't tell their own mutilated daughter from the Cerak's mutilated daughter?
I also like to point out that a key point of the lawsuit questions the coroner's "handling" of the accident victims.
Let's see here...the dead people were buried, and the live people were sent to the hospital, weren't they?
It's not like that the coroner sent the live girl to the morgue (thereby denying her of emergency medical treatment) or hit her in the head with a hammer to stop her from thrashing around at the accident scene--at least as far as I've heard.
So are the VanRyn's out there somewhere waiting to see the outcome of the Cerak's legal follies, in anticipation of hitting the financial jackpot themselves?
Probably, but maybe not...
My position here is that this family should be content to rejoice that Whitney actually survived her ordeal, then shut up and go sit home and in church with their recently recovered daughter, all the time counting their blessings, rather than hiring a lawyer and suing the county for a coroner’s innocent mistake.
After all, it’s common published knowledge that the girls bore a striking resemblance to each other, and in this day and time of many kids having virtually cavity free teeth, even dental records might not have provided any assistance in the identification process.
I also suspect that some member of the Cerak family was asked to do an initial identification of the body of VanRyn, and there might not have been an autopsy, but the family could possibly share some responsibility for the mistake.
Further, maybe these two young women were in the
Regardless, I think that if anyone should be the target of the lawsuit, it should be the truck driver that caused the accident and possibly the trucking company that operated the equipment.
And in a final moment of political incorrectness, I have to admit that if I were the coroner, I’d be tempted to ask if the Cerak family would drop the lawsuit if I rented a truck and finished what the other driver started.
(OK, I just felt like saying the last paragraph, but I really don't think like that, so don't be e-mailing me with your whiny complaints...)
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
It's The Great Pumpkin
Where's Charlie Brown & Linus When You Need Them?
Late this afternoon I wandered over to Harris Teeter looking for only TWO things--a newspaper and a bag of Sauerkraut to go with my Knockwurst and Bratwurst for dinner tonight.
Fifteen minutes later, I ended up coming home with THIS MONSTROSITY…
That creature would be a 30” diameter PUMPKIN that weighs about 150 pounds.
It took the efforts of myself and two bag boys to load it into the back of my Suburban, and the cargo net, bungee cords, and various blocks and shims were installed to keep it from rolling around in traffic, thereby killing me on my way home from the store.
In the back of my suburban is exactly where it’s going to stay too, at least while I cut a hole in the top of it, scoop out the seeds and extra flesh, then I hope to haul it over to one of the local elementary schools to do a pumpkin carving demonstration.
You see, I like to make my own 3-D patterns and do things that look like this two years ago…
And it looked like this in the dark…
No...that's Herman Munster, not John Kerry... And last year I found a Georgia Tech logo in a little pumpkin:
Unfortunately, today on my way home from the store with my newly purchased vegetable prize I suddenly had the grim realization that most politically correct schools don’t officially do Halloween anymore, so I may just have to lug the darn thing up the stairs and let it sit and rot outside my own front door until the end of the month.
Not to worry, because now I have my friend Keenan, the owner of Ziggy Mahoney's (the most popular dance club here on the island) checking out his kids' private school's interest in having their own Pumpkin carving.
One way or the other...it'll get carved and displayed, and finally I guess I have to ask the obvious question…
“Anyone need a couple dozen Pumpkin Pies?”
Late this afternoon I wandered over to Harris Teeter looking for only TWO things--a newspaper and a bag of Sauerkraut to go with my Knockwurst and Bratwurst for dinner tonight.
Fifteen minutes later, I ended up coming home with THIS MONSTROSITY…
That creature would be a 30” diameter PUMPKIN that weighs about 150 pounds.
It took the efforts of myself and two bag boys to load it into the back of my Suburban, and the cargo net, bungee cords, and various blocks and shims were installed to keep it from rolling around in traffic, thereby killing me on my way home from the store.
In the back of my suburban is exactly where it’s going to stay too, at least while I cut a hole in the top of it, scoop out the seeds and extra flesh, then I hope to haul it over to one of the local elementary schools to do a pumpkin carving demonstration.
You see, I like to make my own 3-D patterns and do things that look like this two years ago…
And it looked like this in the dark…
No...that's Herman Munster, not John Kerry... And last year I found a Georgia Tech logo in a little pumpkin:
Unfortunately, today on my way home from the store with my newly purchased vegetable prize I suddenly had the grim realization that most politically correct schools don’t officially do Halloween anymore, so I may just have to lug the darn thing up the stairs and let it sit and rot outside my own front door until the end of the month.
Not to worry, because now I have my friend Keenan, the owner of Ziggy Mahoney's (the most popular dance club here on the island) checking out his kids' private school's interest in having their own Pumpkin carving.
One way or the other...it'll get carved and displayed, and finally I guess I have to ask the obvious question…
“Anyone need a couple dozen Pumpkin Pies?”
Ghee Whizz
Should I Buy a Motel 6, Or A Seven-Eleven?
Anybody out there know what “Ghee” is? I’m proud to say that I do now…
“Ghee” is the Indian word for a batch of carefully clarified unsalted butter, and I had no idea until last night what the heck it was myself.
You use it in cooking Indian cuisine, and I used some of my Ghee to make a variation on this version of Chicken & Vegetable Curries.
I lightly steamed some broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and celery, then cubed up some boneless chicken breasts, and cooked up a nice batch of Basmati rice to serve everything with for dinner.
The other fun thing was that I did everything from scratch, including making my own batch of Garam Masala--the spice blend that puts the “Curry flavor” in your Indian Curry.
Garam Masala includes things like coriander seeds, cumin seeds, black peppercorns, black cumin seeds (shahjeera), dry ginger, black cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, and crushed bay leaves.
Turmeric powder and coconut milk finishes off the sauce and gives it it’s characteristic yellow/green color.
The house still smells fabulous right now.
The only things I didn’t have on hand was the black cardamon and black cumin seeds, but the resulting flavors of my mixture--even without these two items--roasted and pounded by hand to a fine powder in my mortar/pestle, were quite acceptable.
I'm gonna try to find those two additional spices and then I’m going to repeat my efforts again next week while trying my hand at making some Indian parantha flat bread to go with it all.
In the mean time, I have some other meals planned featuring Turkish delicacies and possibly some Egyptian dishes, thereby completing my tour of cooking my way around the Mediterranean --having already completed my French, Italian, Greek, and Moroccan studies earlier this year.
Don't you wish that you were eating dinner at my house these days?
Anybody out there know what “Ghee” is? I’m proud to say that I do now…
“Ghee” is the Indian word for a batch of carefully clarified unsalted butter, and I had no idea until last night what the heck it was myself.
You use it in cooking Indian cuisine, and I used some of my Ghee to make a variation on this version of Chicken & Vegetable Curries.
I lightly steamed some broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and celery, then cubed up some boneless chicken breasts, and cooked up a nice batch of Basmati rice to serve everything with for dinner.
The other fun thing was that I did everything from scratch, including making my own batch of Garam Masala--the spice blend that puts the “Curry flavor” in your Indian Curry.
Garam Masala includes things like coriander seeds, cumin seeds, black peppercorns, black cumin seeds (shahjeera), dry ginger, black cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, and crushed bay leaves.
Turmeric powder and coconut milk finishes off the sauce and gives it it’s characteristic yellow/green color.
The house still smells fabulous right now.
The only things I didn’t have on hand was the black cardamon and black cumin seeds, but the resulting flavors of my mixture--even without these two items--roasted and pounded by hand to a fine powder in my mortar/pestle, were quite acceptable.
I'm gonna try to find those two additional spices and then I’m going to repeat my efforts again next week while trying my hand at making some Indian parantha flat bread to go with it all.
In the mean time, I have some other meals planned featuring Turkish delicacies and possibly some Egyptian dishes, thereby completing my tour of cooking my way around the Mediterranean --having already completed my French, Italian, Greek, and Moroccan studies earlier this year.
Don't you wish that you were eating dinner at my house these days?
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Poetic Justice
Idiots In Traffic--A continuing Theme…
I was a complete bum most of the day today, after spending much of last night working on a couple of proposals for consulting and construction work and my continued efforts to get this new computer formatted and operational.
Then Pat and I did a late afternoon bike ride, covering the six mile round trip from our home on the marsh up to Fort Frederica in less than 40 minutes, but upon our return I was too tired to face an hour or so cooking my planned entree, authentic Chicken Curries.
As a result of my “Chickening out,” I was forced to drive a few miles south to the local deli to pick up a Greek salad and a Sub sandwich. In the process, I once again encountered anotherignorant arrogant asshole one of our indigenous resident’s with a severe case of self-importance.
About half way to the Deli, buzzing along at about 36 MPH in a 35 MPH zone, I looked in my rear view mirror and all I saw was a windshield and the top of a hood ornament on a late model white Mercedes coupe.
I didn’t budge a half MPH.
As I neared my destination in the shopping center, I broke one of my cardinal rules and entered the turn lane a bit early--hoping that my co-pilot would simply continue onward at his desired higher rate of speed.
I was WRONG.
Like a member of the Blue Angels stunt team, he hung right there with me a few feet off of my rear bumper, and then made the left turn into the parking lot still “flying in formation.”
What really pissed me off was that his tight formation position caused me to drift past a couple of parking spaces, and only after he dove into one of the spaces which he caused me to miss did I manage to park twenty yards down the lot on the opposite side.
The son of a bitch had the audacity to glare at me as he virtually sprinted in the door of the deli ahead of me, placing his order…fumbling for exact change, then spending the next few minutes hiding behind the potato chip rack, impatiently drumming his fingers on the top of the stainless steel counter.
I, on the other hand, being the laid back, useless beach bum that I am, calmly placed my order and wandered around out front of the shop enjoying the nice cool evening.
When I walked back inside, I arrived just in time to witness my adversary complaining because “I know I forgot to say it…but you guys know I always have whole wheat bread with my chicken salad sandwich…”
Well now...just let me issure a giagantic "Boo hoo HooooooooooOOOO" on his behalf.
Since he was in too much of a hurry to wait another three minutes for the 16 year old kid working the counter to make a replacement sandwich, he simply left the shop in a huff.
So sad....and although he deserved it, I never said a single word to him, but he did see me smirking at his delimma.
I really hope that he perceived the rest of his evening to be as shitty as the fifteen minute portion which I witnessed.
Maybe he even managed to survive the balance of his drive home without having a heart attack...but you never know.
I, personally, refuse to live here on our little Island and be in that much of a hurry and, in spite of idiots like this fellow encountered this afternoon, thus far I think that I’m definitely getting my money’s worth.
I was a complete bum most of the day today, after spending much of last night working on a couple of proposals for consulting and construction work and my continued efforts to get this new computer formatted and operational.
Then Pat and I did a late afternoon bike ride, covering the six mile round trip from our home on the marsh up to Fort Frederica in less than 40 minutes, but upon our return I was too tired to face an hour or so cooking my planned entree, authentic Chicken Curries.
As a result of my “Chickening out,” I was forced to drive a few miles south to the local deli to pick up a Greek salad and a Sub sandwich. In the process, I once again encountered another
About half way to the Deli, buzzing along at about 36 MPH in a 35 MPH zone, I looked in my rear view mirror and all I saw was a windshield and the top of a hood ornament on a late model white Mercedes coupe.
I didn’t budge a half MPH.
As I neared my destination in the shopping center, I broke one of my cardinal rules and entered the turn lane a bit early--hoping that my co-pilot would simply continue onward at his desired higher rate of speed.
I was WRONG.
Like a member of the Blue Angels stunt team, he hung right there with me a few feet off of my rear bumper, and then made the left turn into the parking lot still “flying in formation.”
What really pissed me off was that his tight formation position caused me to drift past a couple of parking spaces, and only after he dove into one of the spaces which he caused me to miss did I manage to park twenty yards down the lot on the opposite side.
The son of a bitch had the audacity to glare at me as he virtually sprinted in the door of the deli ahead of me, placing his order…fumbling for exact change, then spending the next few minutes hiding behind the potato chip rack, impatiently drumming his fingers on the top of the stainless steel counter.
I, on the other hand, being the laid back, useless beach bum that I am, calmly placed my order and wandered around out front of the shop enjoying the nice cool evening.
When I walked back inside, I arrived just in time to witness my adversary complaining because “I know I forgot to say it…but you guys know I always have whole wheat bread with my chicken salad sandwich…”
Well now...just let me issure a giagantic "Boo hoo HooooooooooOOOO" on his behalf.
Since he was in too much of a hurry to wait another three minutes for the 16 year old kid working the counter to make a replacement sandwich, he simply left the shop in a huff.
So sad....and although he deserved it, I never said a single word to him, but he did see me smirking at his delimma.
I really hope that he perceived the rest of his evening to be as shitty as the fifteen minute portion which I witnessed.
Maybe he even managed to survive the balance of his drive home without having a heart attack...but you never know.
I, personally, refuse to live here on our little Island and be in that much of a hurry and, in spite of idiots like this fellow encountered this afternoon, thus far I think that I’m definitely getting my money’s worth.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Survival Of The Fittest
More Public Stupidity
My regular readers know that two of my favorite reoccurring themes here on this blog are those of driving autos and riding bicycles or walking as a pedestrian on the public streets and in the parking lots here on our little island.
While I’ve previously issued what I think to be the definitive mandate when it comes to traffic safety, after my trip to the grocery store today I believe that a refresher course is in order…
Today I almost killed three people accidentally, and when the two events were over with, after averting disaster caused by their own STUPIDITY, I almost went ahead and killed them anyway just to get them off the streets and out of the food chain.
Be advised that IF I ever manage to strike you with a motor vehicle, that under most circumstances, I will shift into reverse to back over your quivering carcass, thereby finishing the job of ending your miserable life.
Sue me…if you will…
Today’s first circumstance revolved around a family of four riding their shiny bicycles parallel to Frederica Road, the main north/south artery here on our little island. The problem I have with groups of bicyclists is that they seem to act like they are a freight train, connected together at the front and rear bumper of their bikes--if one does something, everybody does it regardless of safety and traffic conditions.
You see, Saint Simons has an extensive network of wide sidewalks which also serve as bike trails, and perhaps as many as one out of ten people here on the island either own or rent a bike to use on a daily basis.
The problem comes when the men and enthusiastic older children ride well ahead of the women and younger child(ren), thereby causing a 100 foot long chain of potential dead humans--all because they don‘t pay attention while crossing intersections on side streets.
Today’s adventure included what appeared to be a mid-teenaged daughter and portly dad, dragging a young boy and middle aged woman along the bike path.
When the SUV two vehicles ahead of me stopped dead on Frederica before turning right onto a side street in order to avoid the daughter/father grouping, instead of stopping, the mother son group just sped up and made six or eight vehicles wait as they caught up to the balance of the biking party.
I was almost rear ended by the car behind me in the process.
Having survived that near disaster unscathed, next came the usual adventure visiting the local grocery store parking lot, a place that twenty years ago I would have already been arrested in for assault because of the stupidity that I have witnessed or otherwise been subjected to over the past 2-½ years.
This portion of my shopping trip was relatively uneventful, the checkout lines were uncluttered, but upon returning to my vehicle everything changed. As I was backing out of my parking space, with at least 50% of the Mustang sticking out into the lane and still rolling backward, some silly bitch drove down the traffic isle--blabbing on a cellphone--and cut off not only my efforts but at least two other autos over the next fifty yards of asphalt.
I call this maneuver “the parking lot slalom course”--and all of you self-important assholes out there that do it know who you are and exactly what I’m talking about.
Stop it, dang it…it pisses me off…and it’s WRONG.
If a car is already rolling backwards and is at least half way out of a parking space, STOP.
At least YIELD.
I swear, if I manage to live into my eighties, I’m going to buy an old Studebaker or possibly a Sherman Tank and I’m going to lurk around parking lots and when I see you exhibit behavior like I saw today, when you come back out of the store with your Brie and Champaign you’re going to find your Escalade or BMW sitting there in the form of about six inches of flattened metal and plastic.
Think about it…and to all of the safe, courteous drivers out there…YOU have a nice day...
My regular readers know that two of my favorite reoccurring themes here on this blog are those of driving autos and riding bicycles or walking as a pedestrian on the public streets and in the parking lots here on our little island.
While I’ve previously issued what I think to be the definitive mandate when it comes to traffic safety, after my trip to the grocery store today I believe that a refresher course is in order…
Today I almost killed three people accidentally, and when the two events were over with, after averting disaster caused by their own STUPIDITY, I almost went ahead and killed them anyway just to get them off the streets and out of the food chain.
Be advised that IF I ever manage to strike you with a motor vehicle, that under most circumstances, I will shift into reverse to back over your quivering carcass, thereby finishing the job of ending your miserable life.
Sue me…if you will…
Today’s first circumstance revolved around a family of four riding their shiny bicycles parallel to Frederica Road, the main north/south artery here on our little island. The problem I have with groups of bicyclists is that they seem to act like they are a freight train, connected together at the front and rear bumper of their bikes--if one does something, everybody does it regardless of safety and traffic conditions.
You see, Saint Simons has an extensive network of wide sidewalks which also serve as bike trails, and perhaps as many as one out of ten people here on the island either own or rent a bike to use on a daily basis.
The problem comes when the men and enthusiastic older children ride well ahead of the women and younger child(ren), thereby causing a 100 foot long chain of potential dead humans--all because they don‘t pay attention while crossing intersections on side streets.
Today’s adventure included what appeared to be a mid-teenaged daughter and portly dad, dragging a young boy and middle aged woman along the bike path.
When the SUV two vehicles ahead of me stopped dead on Frederica before turning right onto a side street in order to avoid the daughter/father grouping, instead of stopping, the mother son group just sped up and made six or eight vehicles wait as they caught up to the balance of the biking party.
I was almost rear ended by the car behind me in the process.
Having survived that near disaster unscathed, next came the usual adventure visiting the local grocery store parking lot, a place that twenty years ago I would have already been arrested in for assault because of the stupidity that I have witnessed or otherwise been subjected to over the past 2-½ years.
This portion of my shopping trip was relatively uneventful, the checkout lines were uncluttered, but upon returning to my vehicle everything changed. As I was backing out of my parking space, with at least 50% of the Mustang sticking out into the lane and still rolling backward, some silly bitch drove down the traffic isle--blabbing on a cellphone--and cut off not only my efforts but at least two other autos over the next fifty yards of asphalt.
I call this maneuver “the parking lot slalom course”--and all of you self-important assholes out there that do it know who you are and exactly what I’m talking about.
Stop it, dang it…it pisses me off…and it’s WRONG.
If a car is already rolling backwards and is at least half way out of a parking space, STOP.
At least YIELD.
I swear, if I manage to live into my eighties, I’m going to buy an old Studebaker or possibly a Sherman Tank and I’m going to lurk around parking lots and when I see you exhibit behavior like I saw today, when you come back out of the store with your Brie and Champaign you’re going to find your Escalade or BMW sitting there in the form of about six inches of flattened metal and plastic.
Think about it…and to all of the safe, courteous drivers out there…YOU have a nice day...
