Sunday, December 30, 2007
This little hot rod belongs to the Sultan of Brunei. Used for his 2004 wedding, it is just one of 500 Rollers his family owns - the largest collection of Rolls Royces in the world.
The article goes on to tell about those who's excess money and need to display conspicuous consumption are creating quite a market for these monstrosities. Nelly has had his interior redone in mink fur, for instance.
Don't get me wrong - these people have the money, and they can do what they want with it. I'm not going to advocate the socialist ideals that would require these people to spend their money on the pore and starvin', or fund health insurance for all, or whatever - as long as it's for the CHILDREN. Nope, not me, not my money.
But, were I King of the World with an income appropriate to the position, my transportation would be driven by ME, with a lot more weight on the performance and fun side of the equation. How I look cruising the boulevard with the hoi polloi holds less water than how big the grin would be on my mug. Expect a raucous cacophony of engine goodness while tires are fried to oblivion over gold plating and kitchen sinks in the interior.
H/T Ace of Spades
Saturday, December 29, 2007
The Turner Classic Movies channel is showing a string of Duke movies today. Woo Hoo! First up was McClintock! My mother actually hated this movie because she found it mysogonistic. Yeah, I'd have to agree that the women being spanked makes me uncomfortable. Other than that issue, the movie is really pretty lightweight comedy, and just reflected some of the prevailing views of the time. TCM has some pretty good commentary about the movies they show, and this was no different. Batjac - the Duke's production company - was really hurting after the movie Alamo had tanked and lost them a load of money. McClintock! was a box office success, and Batjac was saved.
Next up is one of my favorite movies of all time, much less a fave Duke movie: True Grit. Wayne won an Oscar for his portrayal of the one eyed federal marshall. It is said he played the same character in each movie - The Duke. In this movie - perhaps so. Rooster is the archetypal Wayne, only older and cranky. Glen Campbell was an unusual choice as La Boeuf since he didn't have much acting background. His popularity as a singer was supposedly why he was chosen. Turns out he was very good in the role. Wayne wasn't happy with Kim Darby at all. Her behavior on the set led Wayne to feel she was unprofessional. He actually wanted Karen Carpenter for the part, but was overruled. Other noted actors were Dennis Hopper as Moon,
Strother Martin as Stonehill, Jeff Corey as Chaney the father murdering crook, and John Fiedler as Lawyer J. Noble Daggett.
I'm not forgetting Robert Duvall. As Lucky Ned Pepper, his exchange with Wayne late in the movie has to be one of the classic scenes of all time:
Rooster Cogburn: I mean to kill you in one minute, Ned. Or see you hanged in Fort Smith at Judge Parker's convenience. Which'll it be?Next up is one of Wayne's best performances in Red River. I'll be watching the Patriots @ Giants until it gets boring - I think we all know how this one will turn out. I've seen Red River, but not the 2007 Pats/Giants game. As far as I'm concerned, Wayne's best performances drama wise were in Red River and The Searchers. He wasn't the same character in those two that he generally portrayed in his other westerns. His portrayals were much darker, more primeval and elemental. Much closer to evil. The characters were fairly far removed from the one he played in say - The Cowboys.
Ned Pepper: I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man.
Rooster Cogburn: Fill your hands, you son of a bitch.
As far as how I'm doing - not too shabby. Today was a sort of step backwards - I get these days once in a while. My left arm really hurt today - it still isn't coming along nearly as fast as I'd like. I have little control over my left little finger - typing is a pain - every a might be caps lock, q, qa and as at the same time - well, you get the idea. The weather here has just plain sucked for me getting outside and walking - Thursday night we got about six inches and it hasn't gotten above freezing since. I'm cleared to drive, and I do need to take a trip to the grocery store again. I expect a trip to Wally World is in my future before 2007 runs out as well. My left leg where they harvested the veins isn't nearly as stiff nor pained as it was - I'm not gonna be jogging on it for quite a while, but I sure can walk on it. My chest still hurts, but I'm not married to the heart pillow so much anymore if I cough or sneeze.
Mostly I'm bored and ready to get out and about, but I don't have the stamina necessary at the moment. It will come. I figure if the snow melts and it isn't muddy, I can get out and do some more practicing with my handguns. I've enough strength in the left hand for normal support. I expect any rifle shooting will entail calibers under .224 - which means my ARs and my .22s can get some exercise. Recoil from anything bigger could be a problem with my chest, as well as any prone shooting. The Poor Farm is equipped with a rudimentary bench and target stands - all I have to do is step outside.
I certainly want more motor control over my hands before I do some home improvements I've been putting off - like a couple new light switches and a receptacle. I happened to awaken during on of the heart zapping procedures - I've had my fun with electricity for a while. If I'd had a light bulb in my mouth, I could have lit 'er up if I didn't bite it in two, like I nearly did with my tongue. I'd rather pee on an electric fence than run through that procedure awake again. They didn't realize I had regained consciousness - I surprised them. So, I still have some atrial fibrillation that will be dealt with later on. Or, I may have to take rat poison (coumadin) for the rest of my life, which has certainly been given a big extension if I take care of myself. Gotta keep the big picture in mind when I start carping about things not working as well as I'd like.
The alternative - not so much! God bless y'all and thanks for dropping by!
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
These are some of the better comics today. I got out a bit yesterday grocery shopping and it pretty well wiped me out today - it's the middle of the afternoon and I've just now started getting around without falling back to sleep. It's gonna take a while to recuperate.
Merry Christmas to all and God Bless ya!
Monday, December 24, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
1. Wrapping or gift bags? You'd think I'd use gift bags - easy, convenient and so on. I still wrap, though.
2. Real or artificial tree? Artificial. It's a tiny one, lights already on, that I just pull from the box and straighten up a bit. I'm so easy I'm sleazy.
3. When do you put up the tree? It might be a month or a day before Christmas.
4. When do you take the tree down? After Christmas. Who knows - when I get tired of it being in the way
5. Do you like egg nog?Not really - it's too thick and sweet and cloying.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? AFX electric HO scale slot car set. Too cool!
7. Do you have a Nativity scene? Nope - lucky to have a tree.
8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I'm gonna depart the meme and tell about the worst gift I gave - I got the bright idea to disguise my present to my sister one year. We were both about the worst poke and prod bunch you ever saw, and my present was a couple LP record albums. Pretty easy to tell what she was getting. So, I wrapped them up, hid 'em, and wrapped up a small box with some rocks, nuts and bolts in it. Boy, when she shook it up, she had no idea - which was my intent. Enclosed was a note explaining for her to look behind the sofa for her real gift. Boy, was I excited about how clever I was. When she opened it and had a handful of junk, she immediately broke into tears - ignoring the note. I grabbed the note and begged her to stop crying, see the note? See what is says? Your real present is right over here! Gawd I felt bad, and rightly so. Talk about a bad idea. I expect my sis still bears mental scars from that little experience.
9. Mail or e-mail Christmas cards? Email - I'm a terrible written correspondent.
10. Favorite Christmas Movie? A Charlie Brown Christmas - the jazz by Vince Guaraldi is great, and I love the overall theme and story.
1. When do you start shopping ? In time to ship presents out. This year the last minute thing is biting me in the butt.
12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? My mother made some fudge to die for.
13. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Colored, all the way.
14. Favorite Christmas song? Silent Night
I noticed MoK was hinting around about me doing this meme, so yeah, I was up to it. I'm gonna go all bah humbug and not forward this - everyone I know who would enjoy this has done it. If I don't get around to it later, Merry Christmas to y'all!
|You'll die from a Drug or Alcohol accident.|
|Let's face it - when you get drunk/high you lose all control and do stupid stuff. Unfortunately in your case those propaganda anti-escapism commercials prove true.|
|'How will you die?' at QuizGalaxy.com|
Dern it - if Id just live a little bit longer, I'd die during sex. What is that, anyways? I seem to recall something.......
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
They have teamed up for a collaborative narrative about a health emergency of a sweet elderly lady in a small town, and how each of them might have been involved in her care. It is a bittersweet tale told with tenderness and emotion. These people, like many in their positions across the country - CARE.
At any rate, y'all should go read the three part story. It won't take much from your day, and will in fact add to it. They have titled their story "Perspectives."
Sunday, December 16, 2007
I got home Thursday the fourteenth fairly late and just haven't felt like typing - so I apologize 'bout that. I fear my left hand and arm are gonna require some serious rehab. My neighbor Joanne will be taking me to my first followup doctor visit tomorrow, and a trip to WallyWorld is in the works. I think some dumbells and some of those grip exerciser thingies will fit the bill. My endocrinologist will be at an outreach clinic in Dodge City, so I'll be seeing her. I'm gonna be donating blood samples as well. It will be a few weeks before I see my cardiologist.
In the meantime, I am trying to exercise my left leg. I have a fairly long incision from my ankle going up my calf, plus another crosswise incision just up my inner thigh from my knee. That is where the surgeons cut out the veins necessary for the bypasses. They ran something up my thigh and snipped out the vein there - they used to have to cut the leg open for the full length of the vein material. Even though there is no scar, it still looks like someone took a sledgehammer to it, as well as my ankle. Once I get going, the leg isn't on total fire, but after resting for a while it stiffens up pretty good. In a day or so, the snow outside will be reduced to the point where I can get outside and start racking up some real distance. I am not supposed to drive for two weeks as well. We'll see about that......
I don't have any external stitches, either. I'm all Superglued up, baby. I've got some small pieces of tape on my chest that cover the staples holding my breastbone together. The holes from the drainage tubes have closed off as well. The tape they were using to hold the dressings in place eventually started tearing off the top layers of my skin when removed, so I've got a pretty scabby belly, all in all.
One thing I stay fairly close to is my "heart pillow." Ya hold it over your chest and press in if you want to cough - kinda helping hold myself together. I even use the dern thing to blow my nose. It has an accurate picture of the heart and it's feeder arteries on it, and my surgeon illustrated the bypasses he installed and signed it. I had some of my more fave nurses autograph it as well.
I also have to weigh myself every morning and keep track. If I gain more than three pounds in a day, I am to call in immediately. This could be an indication of congestive heart failure - having a bunch of fluids collect around my heart. I had to have Joanne buy me one - she drove my pickup to Garden the other day for my drugs and some supplies.
I never thought about it, but all the drugs I had to pick up shouldn't have been in childproof bottles. I lack the strength to open the damn things about half the time. We as humans are tool usin' fools, so I picked 'em apart with pliers and left the lids off. My main fear is that Rooster the cat may decide to take a trip through the collection on top of the kitchen table where I conveniently have my drug stash. I haven't been able to give my dog Babs the attention she deserves - the snow will have to be reduced first. Both her and the cat seem pretty glad to see me - I was gone for two weeks, after all.
My only other problems are with my sewer and my phone. The Friday after my lithotripsy I had a guy scheduled to come out and pump my septic tank out. I called him and left a message that I wouldn't be home and to come out anyway. He didn't. So, I called him back and scheduled him for Saturday. He didn't show - but it was pretty snowy and I can hardly fault him for not coming out. I don't remember if he has my cell number - which leads me to my next problem. I have no dial tone on my land line. My DSL service is apparently working normally (which for you non geeks means my phone line should be physically alright or I wouldn't be getting a DSL signal either), and none of the phones or backup phones I have work. Curious. I called my little phone cooperative Saturday and left a message. Someone actually called me back and they will be out tomorrow morning to check it all out. If you've tried calling my land line and no one answers, now you know.
After I get the septic tank pumped, I just have a bad feeling I'll be calling someone else to dig out some roots. About ten years ago I went through all that myself - I rented a backhoe/trencher combo, replaced a bunch of old orange tile sections with plastic and buried several sacks of root killer and rock salt at the major seams to hold back the Dutch Elm roots. There is a huge one within about five feet of the line and I have often considered having it removed. If I did, the other ones in the yard would torment me as badly, so since I prefer shade - the execution has been stayed more or less permanently. Mess with me too much ya dern tree, and yer outta here!
So, I've been sleeping through a lot of television and DVDs. I'm gonna break out some of my library as well - it has been a while since I actually read a book. I'm really a voracious reader, but most of it is online these days. I like the DVDs because I have to get out of the chair to change them, thus exercising the ol' leg a bit.
Heh - I gave a couple of my buddies the heebie jeebies today. They stopped by while hunting pheasant to see me. The did NOT want to see my scars. I made one of them trim my fingernails (since my left hand lacks strength and control) on my right hand. It was just about too much for these manly men - I fear I grossed 'em out. Hee Hee!
So, this scabby old weak trucker is on the road to recovery. I lost about twenty pounds in the hospital, and hope to keep that off. I really haven't been too bothered by no cigarettes, either. I have the occasional urge, but the smell really throws me off now. Brent (Joanne's hubby, my neighbor and farmer) brought along a buddy who smokes to take me home. So, I've been "exposed" and avoided temptation so far.
I'm for thinking I'll make out alright - it's just gonna take time.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Last Monday I had quadruple bypass and a cryo maze procedure. I'm a big, yes big guy with a big chest. The bypasses only took about two and a half hours to complete - the cryo maze took the rest of the six hours. I was informed by the surgeon that they really had to spread me open in order to get deep in the chest cavity. I have suffered some nerve damage. My two little fingers on each hand are totally without feeling, and my left arm is basically useless. This is an improved situation - I can raise my left arm without assistance from my right, but it has taken all this time. I tried to trim my fingernails today - the right hand can barely trim the left, but forget the left doing anything productive for a while.
So, typing much very well is right out, too. I owe many of you a fairly lengthy note, but I am pretty much incapable of that at the moment. So, if you got an email from me with just a link to this post, I hope you will understand - I'm trying to kill several birds with one stone here.
It was originally thought I might get released as early as Friday the 7th, but there were a few complications. Early Friday morning about 4:30 a nurse woke me up. Their telemetry people had noticed my heart rate had dropped to twenty beats/sec. They hooked up a temporary pacemaker, have me prewired for such an occasion. However, one of the wires was missing. It was the prevailing opinion to install a temp in my heart via my thigh a la heart catheterization. They finally decided to hold off and try drugs to regulate it better. Turns out I have a slow thyroid.
I also was sodium deficient, so I've been on 1500ccs of liquid for several days. My white blood cell count was high, so intravenous antibiotics have been administered. My heart has resumed atrial fibrillation, so they are going to shock it to get it into normal sinus rhythm. To be successful, this may take several tries. They were going to schedule this for Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. But since I haven't been on coumadin for quite a while, my protimes aren't where they should be. They're giving me blood thinners intravenously for a few days to fix that. Then, they'll start me up.
Honestly, while I'd like to get out of here, I'm not ready. I just don't have the arm strength yet. Yeah, the cable sucks compared to my home entertainment center, and I'm still on dialup, but if I need help it's a buzzer away. A few more days here aren't gonna hurt me.
Probably the scariest thing about all this was when I was waking up after surgery. They had some trouble keeping me oxygenated because of the mucous from my smoking habit. It also doesn't help that their equipment was designed for smaller people. I woke up unable to suck enough air and with no arms to do anything about it. Of course I couldn't talk. It's probably just as well - I'd have ripped the breathing tube out if I could have. They kept telling me that the O2 levels had to be dropped gradually to see if I could get off the tube, and it seemed to me to be pretty counterproductive to give me less air when it was obvious (to me at the time, anyways) that I needed more.
Thank you all for your positive thoughts and prayers. Y'all have no idea how much that meant to me a during this time. May I be able to return the favor some day. Thanks so much.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
At the moment, I am without wireless. I had to send my sister to WallyWorld to get an AOL dialup disk just to get on. I'm suffering here.
Actually, let me back up. Thursday, I went in to one of the local hospitals for some kidney stone work - lithotripsy. Zap them thar stones with sound waves, and get out that day (outpatient "surgery"). Been there done that everything fine.
Except my EKG readings made 'em nervous. They quit and woke me up. A decision had not been made what was to happen to me. My cardiologist in Wichita was consulted. "Get him here" was the answer. So, I took an air ambulance to Wichita. One heart catheterization later, it seems I have one completely blocked artery and two at ninety percent. I'm scheduled for a triple bypass Monday. I've got three arterial stents installed from some years back, but the minimal efforts I've made in my diet have - well, the chickens have come home to roost, as it were. I imagine the cigarette I had before entering the hospital in Garden City was my last.
They do have a wired system available for patients here, but my current room doesn't have a CAT5 jack. I'm surviving the lack of cigarettes, and the bland food, but this dialup is about to kill me. How in the hell did we survive before broadband??????
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
I rarely go to my hometown much anymore, because it is out of the way driving to my workplace. I tend to shop at that town rather than drive to my hometown or the other "big city" to the east I used to shop and work. So, I don't see a bunch of people I know in the city to the west. They say everyone meets at Wal Mart and it is true in these predominantly rural areas.
My first stop was at the local parts house. I ran out of washer fluid on my little trip, so I needed some. I knew I could get some winter formula there - so I caught them just about closing time. Well, of course it was Old Home Week with the guy behind the counter - we hadn't seen each other since a cookout this summer. We didn't spend much time - he ended up on the phone, and I had other places to go, but we basically got caught up.
The next destination was my buddy's fuel islands and car wash. The pickup needed a bath and some gas. Who did I run into but our county Sheriff. He basically inherited the job after his older brother (the previous Sheriff) passed away from complications from cancer. I'd heard he was a bit reluctant to take the job - he was our hometown police chief and just wasn't wild about the extras involved. So, I asked him about that. He was enjoying the job these days. He was concerned about what I was up to, so I got him caught up. Altogether an enjoyable little chat. I assured him he had my vote in the next election, which he certainly appreciated.
Next, and last, was the grocery store. I'm actually a shirttail relative of the owner. He has several stores scattered over the area to the east. While I was shopping, I ran into the mother of one of my friends. She and her husband are custom harvesters. Mostly, they run the show themselves. Sometimes they hire temporary help, but most of the time it is just them. He has one combine, and she drives two semis. They've been doing it this way for nearly forty years.
Now, they are in their sixties, but when they were younger they cut a rug. He is a strapping, tall curly haired gentleman. She is short, trim and with a bobbed 'do that has streaks of silver in the dark brown. Both have the lined leathery skin of people long exposed to the sun. In his younger days, his strength was legendary. He didn't bother with engine hoists when he overhauled motors. That sort of heavy lifting eventually ruined his back, so he's not as likely to carry anvils just for the fun of it anymore, but he sure did at one time. I wouldn't want to cross him, or for that matter - her - even today.
We talked for about an hour, right there in the aisle. I was informed in no uncertain terms that if I didn't have anyplace to go for Christmas - I was invited to their family shindig. I do have plans, but if for some reason it fails to pan out, my name will be mud if I don't show up.
I got home to a phone call from my next door neighbors. They will be taking me to the hospital tomorrow morning for a lithotripsy. It will be an outpatient procedure, but the hospital won't release me on my own - someone has to pick me up.
These neighbors farm and lease the pasture here at The Poor Farm. They are an old fashioned bunch. The kids have worked since they were old enough to be of some help - after school and all summer. The eldest girl is in junior college in the town to the west. The son is a senior at the hometown high school, and the youngest daughter is just now fourteen, with a learner's permit to drive. I've seen these kids grow up, and have helped tutor when they needed it - mostly math. These are the people who had me for Thanksgiving. These are the people who I call to feed my pets when I'm out on the road for longer than I planned. These are the people who watch my place, and check if strangers are messing around where they shouldn't. These are the people who stop by if they see I haven't left the place for a couple days - because they know I'm probably sick. They've always been there for me, and consider it nothing - it's just something you do out here.
I'm in a bit of a bittersweet mood about all this. These sort of people are a dying breed. These neighbors were some of the "young bunch" a few years back, but the kids are leaving the nest. There is a young family farming fairly close, but there just aren't as many as there used to be. When the custom harvesting family retires - there won't be anyone carrying that on. My friend, their son, works for the state road department. His parents would not be happy if he gave that job up to take over the family business. He'll probably end up taking over their farmground. He does run some livestock with his parents, but the harvesting will be over.
These are the kind of people who stop if you have a flat tire out in the boonies, or whatever the trouble may be. If an ice storm rips branches from your trees, they'll be there to help clean it up. If someone dies, they bring food to the house, and show up at the funeral.
Living where I do, I may forgo some of the pleasures and benefits of a major metropolitan area. I'm not going to see the latest off Broadway show, nor will I see much in the way of an independent film screened somewhere. There is no municipal orchestra. I won't be able to purchase certain ethnic food ingredients for that special recipe. No Starbucks out here. We have Wal Mart, not Costco. Our "overnight mail" - well, since there are no major airport hubs - not so much (it's usually two day service).
But ya know, I really don't miss all that stuff at all. I grew up without it, and I'm not wild about all the drawbacks of a major city. From where I sit, I feel like I've come out ahead.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Your Score: Chicken Hauler
You scored 75% trucker awareness!
you got more chicken lights on your truck than you did on your christmas tree. more toys on your radio then your kids have in thier room. it costs you at least $35 in velcro to change trucks. your Mike does a lot of Bungee-jumping. You Transmit with a Road King and sleep with a ThermoKing. You use "101 reason you may be a chicken hauler" as a check off list trying to improve your score.
your my kinda people.
|Link: The Are you a Chicken-hauler Test written by straycat1974 on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test|
Actually, being called a chicken hauler is pretty much an insult. I'm not sure where I went wrong on the test - which was written by someone who could have picked up the skill of using spell check somewhere along the way, and didn't.
I do transmit with a Road King, but I sleep in motels, not truck stops (thank God). And unless you are a slip seater, moving from one truck to another takes a while.
And that ain't much of a chicken haulin' truck, either. An old anteater Pete? Yer kiddin' me. It doesn't even have any chicken lights on it, or extra horns, or a droopy visor or any of the other visual cues.
This is what passes for a "chicken hauler" in the derogatory sense - a Wiener Wagon:
Now, I'm not trying to denigrate this particular fleet - but it is a plain fleet truck, albeit all shined up and clean.
This is more like a decent chicken hauler:
Notice the droopy visor, the custom grill on the extended hood, the custom bumper, stainless cab and sleeper trim with lights, lights on the air cleaner, hidden (probably train) horns, full rear fenders, tall stacks on a flat top sleeper, cargo lights and custom hub covers. This is more than likely a flatbedder. I'd give him static about being a chicken hauler (if I knew him) but I'd be a bit envious of his ride. It's a clean, fairly uncluttered look that I prefer. I like the painted tanks - less to polish! The bumper isn't filled with lights, either. Less to work on after running through the ice treatments certain states use that eat wiring (I'm speaking to you, Colorado).
I'm no chicken hauler, nor am I a "good buddy." But, I am forever a gearhead!
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Hot for the carNow, I like cars and all, but just wow! I don't think a car has ever gotten Mr. Winky all wound up. Not even a Beemer.
Edmonton man sentenced after masturbating on a BMW
By TONY BLAIS, COURT BUREAU
Sandy Wong gets turned on by expensive and classic cars, motorcycles and women with big feet and really likes to expose himself in public.
Unfortunately, the 45-year-old Edmonton man’s sexual deviancy has led to him “pleasuring” himself while sitting on the roof of cars, including a BMW on display at the Home and Garden Show at the Northlands Agricom.
Wong was sentenced Friday to 90 days in jail, which he has already served in pre-trial custody, and put on probation for two years after earlier pleading guilty to three counts of indecent exposure, two counts of mischief, two counts of obstructing a peace officer and theft.
“Mr. Wong is a sex offender. That is what he is,” said Crown prosecutor Kimberly Goddard. “These are sexual offences done in public; voyeurism, exhibitionism …”
Court heard Wong was observed checking out three BMW vehicles on display at the BMW display at the Home and Garden Show on March 22. Then, he was seen sitting on the roof of a 2007 BMW 328i sedan, valued at $50,000.
Shortly after that, Wong had dropped his sweat pants to his ankles and was spotted masturbating while sitting with his legs dangling over the driver’s door window.
Security eventually detained Wong until police showed up and a clean-up crew had to wash down the BMW.
According to psychiatrist Dr. Curtis Woods, Wong says he is “sexually attracted” to the BMW’s roof top because “it’s curved like a woman’s body, the sex appeal, it felt good.”
Woods said Wong reported he also gets aroused by certain cars, including a 1967 Camaro and a 1955 Chevy Bel Air, and blames the owners for buying the cars because it tempts him to “pleasure” himself.
Court heard Wong was also arrested May 24 for jumping on a 2005 MiniCooper outside the downtown Boston Pizza, dropping his pants and proceeding to “tuck, rub and bounce his naked genitalia” on the hood of the car.
He also admitted climbing onto the roof of a 1991 Buick Century parked at the rear of a south-side home, taking off his clothes and masturbating on June 12.
A witness said Wong was looking towards students in the playground of a nearby elementary school at the time, but Wong denied seeing or being motivated by the children.
In a psychiatric assessment of Wong, Woods said he told him he has a sexual preoccupation with women with big feet, has bought porn magazines about feet and once paid a prostitute $50 for a sexual service involving her feet.
He also revealed a “sexual captivation” with motorcycles.
Wong, who was born in North Korea and is living in a group home and receiving AISH benefits, has a lengthy criminal record including property offences and arson.
In 2004, he was convicted of several arson charges relating to a series of deliberately set fires in 2003 and jailed.
Provincial court Judge Peter Caffaro ordered Wong to abide by a 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. curfew for the first year of his probation and a weekend curfew for the balance.
h/t Ace of Spades
Congress is considering sweeping legislation which will provide new benefits for many Americans. The Americans With No Abilities Act (AWNAA) is being hailed as a major legislative goal by advocates of the millions of Americans who lack any real skills or ambition."
Roughly 50 percent of Americans do not possess the competence and drive necessary to carve out a meaningful role for themselves in society,"
said California Senator Barbara Boxer. "We can no longer stand by and allow People of Inability to be ridiculed and passed over. With this legislation, employers will no longer be able to grant special favors to a small group of workers simply because they have some idea of what they are doing."
In a Capitol Hill press conference, House Majority Leader Nancy Pelosi and Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid pointed to the success of the U.S.
Postal Service, which has a long-standing policy of providing opportunity without regard to performance. Approximately 74 percent of postal employees lack any job skills, making this agency the single largest U. S. employer of Persons of Inability.
Private-sector industries with good records of nondiscrimination against the Inept include retail sales (72%), the fast food industry (68%), and home improvement "warehouse" stores (65%). At the state government level, the Department of Motor Vehicles also has a great record of hiring Persons of Inability (63%).
Under the Americans With No Abilities Act, more than 25 million "middle man" positions will be created, with important-sounding titles but little real responsibility, thus providing an illusory sense of purpose and performance. Mandatory non-performance based raises and promotions will be given, to guarantee upward mobility for even the most unremarkable employees. The legislation provides substantial tax breaks to corporations that promote a significant number of Persons of Inability into middle management positions, and gives a tax credit to small and medium-sized businesses that agree to hire one clueless worker for every two talented hires.
Finally, the AWNA Act contains tough new measures to make it more difficult to discriminate against the Nonabled -- banning, for example, discriminatory interview questions such as "Do you have any skills or experience which relate to this job?"
"As a Nonabled person, I can't be expected to keep up with people who have something going for them," said Mary Lou Gertz, who lost her position as a lugnut twister at a GM plant in Flint, Michigan, due to her lack of any discernible job skills. "This new law should really help people like me." With the passage of this bill, Gertz and millions of other untalented citizens will finally see some light at the end of the tunnel.
Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy: "As a Senator With No Abilities, I believe the same privileges that elected officials enjoy ought to be extended to every American with No Abilities. It is our duty as lawmakers to provide each and every American citizen, regardless of his or her inadequacy, with some sort of space to take up in this great nation."
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Do you all find yourself buying certain deli meats over others just so you can get the containers? Yeah, I know you can buy Gladware by the stack, and I have some, but the shapes and sizes offered with lunchmeat are pretty handy.
I'm from a long line of packrats. We saved margarine tubs to use in lieu of actually buying Tupperware. I can remember a go around with my dad over some butter tubs. There was one particular size that worked great for nuking a scrambled egg. I used them a lot making a breakfast sandwich with bacon or ham, egg and cheese on a toasted English Muffin. It was just the right size. I bought that particular brand of margarine just for the tub.
Well, my dad liked to use them for leftovers. Since he liked to cook, and cook often, he had a lot of leftovers. Several times I would find myself out of the tubs and have to transfer the food from one he'd used to a different one, and clean out the one I wanted to cook my egg in. This kind of defeated the "quick breakfast" approach. So, I asked him nicely if he'd refrain from using this particular sized tub and told him why.
He basically told me to f##k off. Dad could (and he did often enough) be a total asshole. I was highly pissed. I said there wouldn't even be any of those tubs if I didn't buy them in the first place. No matter - first come, first served, and I would just have to suffer. Gee, what a pal.
I thought about tossing his leftovers in the trash when I found myself "tubless," but I figured out something better. We seemed to always have more lids than tubs - usually because they really weren't microwave safe and more than a few got nuked into oblivion. So, I counted tubs, and cut all the correct lids except for one less than the available tubs, and tossed the cut lids. Dad couldn't dig through the trash to get the lids back, because they were useless. Now, no matter what, I'd have a tub to nuke eggs. They were my tubs and lids, after all. Worked like a charm, too.
Too bad we didn't have Gladware back then. Heh.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
At any rate, the die was cast. Coming home tonight, I heard Jessica by the Allman Brothers. They were the pioneers of "southern rock," and this instrumental definitely showcased their talents:
The Rogers Indicator of Multiple Intelligences
created with QuizFarm.com
|You scored as Logical/Mathematical|
You like to work with numbers and ask questions. You learn best by classifying information, engaging in abstract thinking and looking for common basic principles. People like you include mathematicians, biologists, medical technicians, geologists, engineers, physicists, researchers and other scientists.
Yep, I'd say that fits me fairly well.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Soldier's life changed after 9/11, family says
By Clara Kilbourn - The Hutchinson News - firstname.lastname@example.org
DODGE CITY - When he headed for Iraq at the end of September after being home on leave, Christopher Kruse told his mother not to worry. He'd be OK.
"But I worried about this," Linda Hensley said. "When they're so far away and you know they're in danger and you won't be able to help them out of it ..."
Kruse, 23, was killed on Nov. 13 in Mukhisa, Iraq, when a roadside explosive device detonated during combat operations.
Tomorrow, Hensley and her family will wait for the plane that brings Sgt. Christopher Ryan Kruse home to Dodge City for a final time.
A funeral service will be Wednesday at the First United Methodist Church. He will be buried at the Ford Cemetery with full military rites.
Her son was "a good caring person who went out of his way to help others," Hensley said.
Their good-byes at the end of his leave time were sad, she said, with her voice breaking in grief.
She recounted that her son learned to read in first grade, his teacher made school exciting with things like spelling bees. From then on, he did well academically.
"He was a good reader, he could read something and remember it, like statistics it was one of those memories that could store up anything," she said.
In high school Kruse enrolled in woodworking, welding and automotive classes, liked working with his hands.
Lee Bogner, a high school classmate in the Dodge City High School Class of 2002, recalled that he and Kruse built a gas-powered scooter from scrap parts. Kruse was enrolled in an automotive course at Dodge City Community College at the time.
One of their friends tested the machine on the U. S. 50 bypass and it kept up with the traffic that was moving at 45 mph.
"It worked really good," Bogner said. "Chris was talented, came up with a lot of ideas."
Another classmate, Brian Seacat, played basketball with Kruse during their freshman and sophomore years.
"He was a genuine all-around good guy, friendly, great personality, always happy," Seacat said.
When 9/11 happened her son changed, Hensley said.
"He joined the Army, didn't want them to come over here and hurt anyone," she said.
" 'Keep them busy on their territory and they'll stay away from ours,' " he told his mother.
Kruse's wife, Courtney, his 11-month old son, Christian Kruse, and his stepson, Josh Murphy-Ryder were scheduled to arrive in Dodge City on Sunday form Kent, Wash. The couple met while he was stationed in Washington.
Brave, shy, quiet and sweet, describe her son best, Hensley said.
"God will take care of him now," she said. "And his grandmothers are up there to watch over him."
Godspeed, Chris, and thanks for your service.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
One of the givens out here on the prairie is when harvest arrives, there is a lot of ground to cover and not a big window of opportunity to get it in successfully. If you are a smaller farmer, having the necessary equipment is expensive, plus finding the manpower to run it all is tough as well. Many soldier on with a single older combine and some old trucks, but if the weather doesn't cooperate, the crop can be destroyed or reduced in value - rain can cause wheat to bleach or sprout in the head, or hail can destroy the crop.
So, for years, the nomads of the prairie have been the custom harvesters. They own or lease several combines and trucks capable of carrying the crop away, and moving the combines to the next customer. Some have grain carts and tractors, so the combines don't have to quit cutting to dump their loads of grain. The tractor tows a grain cart to the combine, and the combine "dumps on the go." The grain cart can go dump the crop on a truck while the combine keeps cutting. It is a general rule of thumb that a grain cart can be "worth" a combine when you have two or more combines going at once.
These gypsies start in the south - Texas or Oklahoma - wherever wheat is grown, and work their way north to Montana, North and South Dakota, Minnesota, and even Canada. There are a lot of Canadians in the business as well. It isn't always wheat in the northern states, sometimes it is barley and other specialty crops. Some quit harvesting wheat in time to come back to Kansas and catch the fall harvest - milo, corn and soybeans. Some go to Colorado west of Walsenburg to cut for the beer companies - hops and so on. Anywhere there is a crop to be cut, custom harvesters will no doubt show up.
I've sure done my share of harvesting over the years. I've done a lot of "dumping on the go" whether it was from a combine, a tractor pulling a grain cart, or even taking the truck out into the field to catch a combine. The gentleman I was employed by for ten years is a custom harvester. I went with him one year, his brother one year, and a different family earlier in my resume. We started in Oklahoma and ended up in Montana.
Most custom harvesters rely on students for their labor force as well, so when school starts in the fall, they are pretty well done for the year.
One of my neighbor's sons "went on harvest" this year. He's a great kid who is growing into a fine young man. His family is pretty much "old school" as far as raising kids and farming - the kids all work, and were home schooled for several years as well. Joe is a tall, lanky redhead, laid back and quiet, but don't let that fool you. He is passionate about things mechanical. At the moment, he's enrolled at Wyotech, which is a very well regarded and tough school for aspiring mechanics. He'll be able to write his own ticket when he's through - his services will be in demand wherever he wants to go and whatever field he chooses. Look out, he might be fixing your Beemer and living next door to you in that expensive development.
I was really surprised his father let him go on harvest this year - but I think his parents were cutting the apron strings a bit. I am extremely fortunate to have neighbors like this - someday I'll tell you about another set of neighbors who really take care of me. At any rate, the subject of this post was about custom harvesters. Joe took some pictures and posted them to Facebook. If you are interested at all in what harvest looks like, go and check it out. Be sure and read his captions - his explanations are what makes this album.
Just so you know, I'm pretty proud of this young man.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
British woman banned from entering New Zealand because she is too fatA British woman planning to start a new life with her husband in New Zealand has been banned from entering the country - because she is too fat.
Rowan Trezise, 33, has been left behind in England while her husband Richie, 35, has already made the move down under leaving her desperately trying to lose weight.
When the couple first tried to gain entry to the country they were told that they were both overweight and were a potential burden on the health care system.
His wife however has had no such luck and faces a desperate battle to shed the pounds before Christmas, at which point the couple say they will abandon their overseas plans.
New Zealand officials assess people's weight using Body Mass Index which measures fat by comparing the height and weight of an individual.
Mr Trezise, a submarine cable specialist and former member of the army said his BMI was measured at 42 making him well over the limit of 25 which is regarded as overweight.
"My doctor laughed at me. He said he'd never seen anything more ridiculous in his whole life," he said.
"He said not every overweight person is unhealthy or unfit. The idea was that we were going to change our lifestyle totally and get outdoors and on mountain bikes and all sorts of activities."
Robyn Toomath, a spokesman for New Zealand's Fight the Obesity Epidemic and an endocrinologist said that obese people should not be victimised, but agreed with the restrictions.
"The immigration department can't afford to import people who are going to be a significant drain on our health resources.
"You can see the logic in assessing if there is a significant health cost associated with this individual and that would be a reason for them not coming in."
While the New Zealand Immigration Service could not say how many peolpe had been refused entry on similar grounds, the Emigrate New Zealand website revealed that many people had been banned for being obese.
If you want to be told how to live, fine. Don't expect me to live the way you think everyone else should, and don't expect me to pay the bill for all this "free" advice and health care. I've been diligent in leaving y'all alone, and expect the same in return.
H/T to Andrea
Friday, November 16, 2007
Plus, I should have posted this earlier as well - Moxie had Bentley - one of her cats - die. Unfortunately, she found the caliber of her friends lacking. None of them would help her. Steve contacted Aaron to help her take her cat to be cremated - she just couldn't do it herself. She's not posting much for a while.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
|What American accent do you have? (Best version so far)|
Western is kind of neutral, but not quite since it's still possible to tell where you're from. So you might not actually be from the West (but you probably are). If you really want to sound "neutral," learn how to say "stock" and "stalk" differently.
|Click Here to Take This Quiz|
Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.
I dunno, some tests I've taken say I'm more Southern, and others have actually said Midwestern. But, people from Iowa and Indiana sound different than Kansans, and we're all from the Midwest, so there ya have it.
I know I've a bit of a drawl. Plus, I warsh my clothes - I don't wash them.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
I'm sure y'all have heard of easter eggs - the hidden "extras" in certain programs, games and movie dvds. If you know the secret, you can access the little clips in dvds, or play the extra game or scene in a game, or whatever.
Well, Google Earth has a flight simulator. Read here, and here. The controls are listed here. Open Google Earth and hit Control - Alt - A. GE must be in Earth Mode and not Sky Mode. It took me a lot of tries to finally get it to work, so don't give up. Some say Control-Windows-A works as well. I found that when I finally got the cursor away from the search box (so AAAAAA quit appearing in it) I eventually got it to show up. After you have accessed it once, there is an option for it in Tools>Enter Flight Simulator.
Now I suppose I'll have to find an old joystick and get to work - some other day because it's late. I'm not a big fan of keyboard and mouse play on a laptop. At least I have it enabled for another day.
For me, Veteran's Day always brings memories of local veterans who I know (or in most cases these days – knew). I've spoken of my “Uncle Ted” before, but I also had an “Uncle Nate” as well. He and “Aunt Edna” lived about a mile north of Ted's place, and I spent many a happy hour in their basement house. Uncle Nate was a small man, and he had a son who was considerable larger. The younger and larger Nate was known as “Little Nate” and the smaller but older Nate was “Big Nate.” Which is why - while I'm a Jr I'm nicknamed Jeff and my Dad (Robert for both of us) was known as Bob. My parents didn't want me hung with the sobriquet “Little Bob.”
Anyways, being a veteran was a large part of Nate's life. Every year his unit had a reunion, which found he and Edna in various places across the nation. Nate was in the Battle of the Bulge. I'm pretty sure he was involved in D-Day as well. Nate was like most veterans – he just didn't talk about what he'd seen or where he'd been. He and a cousin (another veteran) went on regular fishing trips that involved a lot of Old Charter. There was always a pint or two stashed in the garage – I spotted them nosing around playing as a child. As long as I can remember, Nate wore hearing aids. Edna would harangue Nate about something, and Nate would shut them off. Then, Edna would harangue him about that, and turn to me and wink. Nate would surreptitiously wink at me when Edna wasn't looking. Nate passed away a few years back, and Edna is in the local nursing home. She is the last of my elderly neighbors.
One of my longtime friends (Steve) father was in the Battle of the Bulge as well. He also liberated Hitler's Eagles Nest. This apparently involved drinking the liberated wines stored there. Needless to say, one of Steve's favorite DVD sets is “Band of Brothers” since his father lived that life. Gene was a paratrooper. He even scored some trophies – one is an officer's sidearm. Sadly, Gene is no longer with us. Steve is the repository for much of his father's experiences.
Another neighbor was in the Korean War. Jim's prize possession was a Garand he purchased after he got out, because he considered it to be the finest rifle he'd ever used. He wanted one just like the one he was issued, so he got one. He used it, too. Many a varmint fell to that rifle over the years. Jim is gone, too.
My uncle in Denver was in the Navy during the Korean War. He was in the Reserves for a long time after the war was over. He served aboard the USS Cronin (DEC 704).
My own father was stationed at Okinawa during the Korean conflict. He didn't see any action. He was a lineman. Nowadays, I fear Dad painted a pretty pure picture of his activities. He enjoyed building and flying control line model aircraft, and most of his pictures reflect that. He got to go to Japan several times on leave – somewhere I've got some yen from those trips. However, according to him, he must have lived a very boring life, because I never heard about any sort of mamasans, cathouses or otherwise. Either Dad was as pure as the driven snow, or he sort of neglected to tell his son about any “good times” he might have had.
All these men were involved with the local chapter of the VFW. I can remember Dad dressing in his khakis for funerals on a regular basis. The neighbors did the same. They didn't expect anything back other than they wanted the same at their funerals. They didn't look at their service to their country or to the VFW as anything other than it was the thing to do. There were no questions of self doubt about a mission, or the political ramifications, or any other sort of distraction. They served their country. They ate and took breaths. They raised families when they got home. They saluted the flag. It was their duty, but there was more to it than just simply doing their duty – they loved their country, their way of life, and felt they had to defend it when called.
These are the men who are my heroes. They became the backbone of our country – in areas requiring morals and courage, and just the simple day to day existences. I grew up in the era when the draft had been dropped, and registration wasn't required. I sometimes regret not having served, but the Armed Services weren't a great place to be at that particular time. Am I the equal of the men of the past? I honestly don't know, as I've never been tested. I am heartened at the bravery and fiber of our soldiers serving now, and hope that as they come back into our society, they will have the long term effects my heroes had.
So, I remember. I think that I am incapable of forgetting.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
|Your Inner European is Irish!|
Sprited and boisterous!
You drink everyone under the table.
I wasn't very happy with the choices for cars - what a bunch of yuppiemobiles - not a pickup, SUV or Jeep among 'em. Oh, well, my ancestors would be pleased.
Edit: the sentence "Your Inner European is Irish!" was originally almost unreadable as Blogger rendered it. The color code was orginally black but was converted to a far different rgb value after I pasted and previewed. I just changed the values to (0,0,0) which is black and now at least I can see the dern thing.
Friday, November 09, 2007
TNT is showing "The Wizard of Oz" tonight. Lord knows how many times I've seen this movie over the years. I can remember watching as a child, so scared at certain scenes I ran to the kitchen. I wasn't so scared that I couldn't look at the television through the door, but a black and white Margaret Hamilton sending flying monkeys was just about too much for me at four or five. We didn't get a color TV until about the third or so Super Bowl game. Dad and I went to the neighbors to watch the game on color. By the time we had a color set, The Wiz was kinda anticlimactic.
Over the years the movie became decidedly cheesy and uncool, or retro and hip, reflecting the current bias of the viewer - namely me. The movie never changed a bit, just my feelings about it.
Now I enjoy it as a children's classic, done in the extravagant style of it's time.
Oh, and the picture? The album cover for The Electric Light Orchestra's El Dorado. Remember when album covers were cool to look at? Plus, this album was and still is pretty dern good. The scene is backwards - in the movie the Wicked Witch tries to grab the shoes from left rather than the right. Why the image was reversed I have no idea.
I'll be right over there, with the headphones on, trippin' out and looking at Moody Blues album covers.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Monday, November 05, 2007
Saturday, November 03, 2007
There really isn't much money in farming unless you go to a large scale operation. This summer, The Poor Farm had a crop that blew anything that had been grown in past years clear out of the water, plus it got a price that was better than anything since the seventies. The price of wheat went up considerably after I sold, but I'm not complaining. Since my father passed away in '98 and I took over the "landlord" position, there have been three crops worth cutting. Only one wasn't drought or hail stricken.
Yeah, I get CCC payments. Big whoop. Sure, it helps out - a lot. However, the total yearly payments do not cover the yearly property tax bill. It comes close, but no cigar. Should farmers get these payments? That is a question for another time - I don't feel like talking politics. Just know that even in the large corporate farm households this conversation never happens: "I say, Muffy, tell Jeeves to stock the Airstream for our gambling trip to Monoco. The CCC payments came today, so we'll celebrate. Plus, remind him the caviar was totally unacceptable on the last trip."
Back in the Seventies, someone leased our mineral rights and actually drilled a test hole. The driller told Dad there was oil there, but it wasn't cost effective to get it to flow. Since then, the payments quit, and no one has offered to lease.
When I was a kid, we had a lot more neighbors. They were older, and finally died off. There were a couple who figured large in our lives - Uncle Ted and Aunt Velma. He was an old school rancher and farmer, and she was an old time farm wife - canning and cooking were her forte. They had both raised families, and married later in life. They lived for their grandchildren, and my sister and I were a sort of shirttail grandkids to them.
They didn't have much. However, Velma had inherited some ground about seventy miles from here. Her family pretty well screwed her over - she got some pasture ground that made pretty poor pasture. However, a wildcatter struck oil on her ground. Her family was highly upset, and tried to muscle in - but they failed. Now, Uncle Ted and Aunt Velma had some extra money - and they spent some of it. They became snowbirds - going to Texas for the winter. We were so happy for them - they got to spend their retirement years in comfort, and they had money to cover the health problems that cropped up.
I'll never forget what Ted told his custom harvester one year (the harvester is the brother of the harvester I was employed by for ten years). "I don't care how neat a job you do - I'm not worried about skips or how much wheat you throw over. I just want to ask a big favor. When you road those big combines by my house, just don't hit the mailbox, because that's where I get the oil checks."
I got a call the other day I about didn't take. I don't answer calls that say blocked or unknown caller, plus if I don't recognize it, I rarely answer those. I used to enjoy baiting telemarketers. Now, not so much. This guy asked if it was me - by name, and said "I've been having a hard time gettin' ahold of ya." He represented a company putting in a wind farm, and wanted to sign me up.
Are you freaking kidding me? How fast do you want that signature? I was ready before I got the details. The lease is around a thousand per year. Apparently, it isn't likely I'll have any windmills on the Poor Farm, but it hasn't been finalized. If there are none installed, they will drop the lease after a few years. They mostly want to bribe me so I won't pull a Kennedy and try to fight the project.
However, if just one windmill is installed, the payments would likely range from five to eight thousand dollars per year. Just one windmill would pay far better than one third of any crops grown plus pasture rent - averaged over the past five years. Two windmills at five grand would just about beat this years crop.
You can imagine how much I'd like to see them plant a few windmills on The Poor Farm.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
So, here is the thought for the day:
Looking at Capitol Hill is like looking at that Escher picture of the wild geese flying together: makes no fu**ing sense and occasionally sh**s on your head.
This, of course, is the picture:
And, this made me laugh:
So, have a great day and week! Cya later.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
So now you know how my brain got us here. Enough links?
Anyways, thanks to satellite television and more channels than I can ever possibly watch, I've actually had the opportunity to watch some of the original SNL episodes. I can tell you a lot of humor has an expiration date. After a while, hearing Francisco Franco is still dead does get old. I think it kinda got old even then. Even with the aid of illicit inhaled substances, which was a sort of tradition on Saturday nights spent in front of the television for some of us.
But, there are shining moments that transcend time and space. There are those skits, played out by humor icons in their early years, that are comic gold. When Chevy Chase was funny, John Belushi was alive, and Elliot Gould was relevant. Like this clip:
SNL: The Final Voyage of the USS Enterprise
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Then there were the famous parody commericals. One never knew when they would come on, so a commercial break might just not really be a commercial break. Kinda put a kink in bathroom breaks, because you just might miss one. This clip is one of the best. It put "Floor Wax AND dessert topping" into our lexicon. All a class clown had to do for a laugh was mention that phrase in an appropriate context, and everyone got it.
I haven't watched the current version of SNL in years, mostly because it has turned preachy and it just isn't funny anymore. They lost me a long time ago.
Friday, October 26, 2007
I've mentioned Babs the dog before, but I'm sure most of you don't know anything about her. First, she isn't named after Barbara Streisand. Let's get that out of the way right now. I used to call an ex girlfriend (from Valley Center, niece of a friend at work who set us up, and who dumped me for her ex husband and really screwed me over, but that is another story for another time) Babalicious on the phone for some reason. This dog needed a name, that is what she got.
Babs came into my life not long after Dad died in '98. I noticed Lady's food bowl was emptying out a lot faster than usual - but she wasn't gaining weight. I was working the afternoon shift at the USPS, so I was coming home in the dark. As my headlights swept the yard, I started thinking I was seeing something black and roughly dog sized run away as I drove in.
So, I got a flashlight and checked it out. I was pretty sure it wasn't a skunk, but ya never know out here. It turned out to be a very spooked black dog with some white highlights. She is shaped somewhat like a Newfoundland, but is far smaller.
Anyhow, she absolutely didn't trust me. I'd call to her, and she'd wag her tail and take a step towards me, but that was all. It took a couple weeks of bribing her with dog treats to get her to come to me. At first, I'd throw them to her - she wasn't too sure about eating them at first. Then, I started tossing them a bit closer to me until eventually I had her eating out of my hand.
To this day, if I startle her for some reason, off she goes. Obviously, she had been beaten and turned loose in the country. One fine morning, one of my friends and I were leaning on the back of his pickup talking, and she was lying on the ground a few feet away. She was the subject of the discussion. We were wondering where or who she might have come from. Just as a test, I spoke the word "Puta" in the same tone and level as our conversation. She jumped up and ran. I'm not being racist here, there is plenty of white trash around here that would treat her the same. It was just interesting.
She used to like to chase the rabbits my headlights would reveal from their shield of darkness when I'd come home. A cottontail would bolt in the beams, and off she'd go. One night, a cottontail ran under my truck, followed by a pursuing Babs. I heard the thump. Oh God, I prayed, please let her be okay. I got out and there was no sign of her. Thank You, God. It took a couple of days before she'd come to me again. It was all my fault. She wasn't hurt - I couldn't even find a knot on her head. The cottontail chasing cooled off after that. She still gets one occasionally, just not in front of a moving vehicle. Life is full of lessons, even for dogs.
I've never even tried to put a collar on her. She panics when I do something new. She has no interest in the interior of my truck. When Lady was alive, they'd both about climb in when I'd open the door at homecoming, but Babs was apparently concerned she might miss out on her fair share. Now, she spooks if the wind moves my door. Which is 99% of the time. So, the homecoming schedule is greet me at my door by looking in, getting petted a bit after I step out, and immediately head for the front door. Because it is goody time.
Yeah, I give her goodies for no good reason, usually when I get home. She follows me to the porch, and when I go in to get the said goody, off she goes to her dog house. Then, when I step out, I have to call to her to give her the treat. She acts reluctant, and I sound like I'm begging her to come to me (which basically I am, I guess). If I'm hauling groceries inside, and ruin the regularly scheduled program, she looks longingly through the front door at me to remind me I owe her a treat. It is just a bit of a game she likes to play, so I play it for her.
That is about the only game she plays, if you can call it one. She just won't play. Sometimes, she'll jump forward lifting her front paws off the ground, slightly twisting her body so one is higher than the other. Her version of the Happy Dance. She'll sort of bounce and run at the same time in an evasive pattern when I call her - the Joyous Lope. If she barks, it is generally for a good reason. She's gotten into barking contests with the neighbor's dogs late at night, and a bellow from me quiets her down. I really hate to yell at her, but she's seemed to figure out what I want from her.
She doesn't like gunfire, so range days out here on The Poor Farm find her huddled in her doghouse. Oddly enough, she went hunting for cottontails with me once. Lady was still alive, so they both went. Lady, the hunting breed, was there just in case a dog needed petting. Just in case. Babs actually figured out I was looking for cottontails in those clumps of weeds, and began to inspect them before I got there. We didn't flush anything out, but not for lack of effort. I was carrying a .22 pistol, which doesn't seem to bother her.
She used to take on skunks eating her food. Whew, did she ever. I'm sure she had a few infected bites around her neck - a couple times she swelled up like a balloon under her jaw. Taking Babs to the vet would be a major undertaking - I'd have to hold her and have someone drive us to town. She'd probably never talk to me again. Luckily, she doesn't mind being treated for ticks and fleas. She's never gone into heat, so obviously she has been fixed.
Her attitude about skunks has changed. I heard a bit of a ruckus the other night, and when I turned on the porch light, she was eating from her dish to keep a skunk from getting it all. Oh boy. I don't blame her, but I don't want to get sprayed if I step out during the night.
She's still a one man dog. My neighbors feed her when I'm gone for several days, and they report that she will allow them to pet her once in a very great while. My sister has probably had the best luck with Babs, but generally I have to be there. She will take treats from people's hands, but hang around? Not so much. Sis thinks Babs would defend me were I attacked, but I tend to think she'd be hiding in her doghouse. Who knows?
It doesn't matter to me, because I know she loves me. Her golden brown eyes shine at me when I get home. She goes into a wagging fit when I drive in the yard. If she is out exploring, she always comes running in to see me. Yeah, she likes the treats, but she really likes being petted. Sometimes she'll even groan when I rub her ears a certain way. She likes to "inspect" me with her nose - she knows if I've cheated on her and petted another dog. She doesn't seem to mind, she just wants to know. She gives me the same level of inspection if I'm all greasy from work - she just wants to know what I've been up to.
She really is a perfect dog for me - she is so low maintenance. She only eats what she needs, so I can stock up for a couple days for her when I'm gone. Babs lives outside, and likes it. She waters herself from the stock tanks for the cattle. She's not demanding at all.
Do you think I've come to love this well behaved, quiet, highly intelligent, reserved little dog? You betcher ass I do. I hope there is a special kind of hell for the people who dumped her out here to fend for herself. Honestly, this brings a tear to my eye, because I have to wonder just how much was beaten out of her. How much fun she has missed because of the lack of trust ingrained in her.
I thank God she came to me - someone who gave a crap about her. A few miles one way or another, and she'd have more than likely been shot. People out here get tired of dealing with strays, particularly if they mess with cattle or even look like they might. Babs is fine with cattle, but that isn't the point. I know I feel blessed by having her around for these past seven or eight years. I know that if something happens to me, the neighbors would take her in and she would adapt.
I also know what will happen when she gets too old. No vet for her - I cannot see doing something totally new and completely scary to her on her last day. How would that be humane? The day is coming, yet it is a ways off. The temperature extremes bother her now, where before a really hot or cold day made no difference. Sometimes she is a bit stiff climbing the porch steps. Mortality is creeping up on her.
But, that is a bridge that will be crossed later. Prepared for, but unnecessary at this time. Meanwhile, there are ears that need rubbed, smells to be investigated, and well deserved treats to be consumed. I know I'm enjoying the ride.