Archive for November 2012
I’ve always been an avid TV watcher from a very early age. I come by it honestly since I was one of that first generation to be introduced to it at birth. I’ve always watched a lot of programming but there’s a recent trend that disturbs and annoys me. I’ve read Bram Stoker’s Dracula many times and giving credit where credit is due, it was a scary and harmless story for any young kid to read. When Bela Lugosi made the movie, it scared the shit out of an entire generation. As always it faded into history and we moved on. To me this obsession with vampires, werewolves, and zombies is odd. I’ve read the classics like The Wolfman and seen Romero’s Dawn of the Living Dead when it actually premiered. It was a big deal at the time only because it was filmed in the Monroeville Mall in Monroeville, Pennsylvania, a twenty minute ride from my home. We all went to see the movie but as most other movies it scared the crap out of us and then faded into history and we moved on.
The people who are salivating over Twilight are an enigma to me. I understand erotic fantasies and how real they can become but c’mon. Turning what once was a horrific movie and book anti-hero into everyone’s new love interest makes no sense to me. We now have blood drinking vampire cults, bars where full costume is required, and the movement continues to grow. Zombie this and zombie that is giving me an effing headache. Are things in this society so badly screwed up that escaping into the world of vampirism and zombies is the only way to go? Thanks but no thanks.
Turning vampirism and blood sucking into an erotic sexual fantasy is beyond ridiculous. The TV networks being true “blood suckers” in their own right have discovered “there’s gold in them thar vampires”, and are making millions by filling the air waves and movie theatre’s with more blood drinking heroes and heroines. Even reality shows like “Sons of Gun’s” just had to have an episode where they created a weapon for zombie killing. That episode took me from being a casual viewer of the show to a future no-show.
One of my all time favorite horror movies has always been Young Frankenstein. I’d much rather have a huge belly laugh at the theatre and then go home to a warm bed and the woman I love instead of fantasizing sexually over ridiculous story lines and even more ridiculous characters. To those of you who read this and get angry, save your breath, and then move on.
I’m a cat person as are millions of others in this country and I’ve been told there are currently more cats than dogs being kept as pets. You’d think that cat’s would now be considered “mans best friend”, but they’re not. I’ve written before about how I believe cats think we humans are their pets and we’re actually “a cats best friend”. That being said, it appears that I am owned by an exceptionally inscrutable and sly cat. In general cats are pretty laid back and appear to the uninitiated that they are aloof and uncaring. I agree to a point on aloof but cats really do have personalities that are as different from each other as human beings.
I’ve been acquainted with five cats in my life and each one has had it’s own peculiarities and personality quirks. After years of observing them closely I’ve determined that one characteristic is common to them all. It’s called the Twenty Second Delay Response Syndrome (TSDRS). With dogs you shout a command and they spring to their feet wagging their tails and just begging to do your bidding. I think that cats get the same rush from your attention but choose not to show it quite so openly. They sit and wait for approximately twenty seconds then nonchalantly stroll over to see what’s going on. Try it out yourself if your owned by a cat, it’s amazing.
You’ll also note that I continually say “owned by a cat” and I’m not kidding in the least. Let me explain further. My better-half was for years a dog person. When we finally decided to live together I was more than a little concerned about her relationship with “Stormy”, my feline friend. He and I have been together for almost twelve years and we lived the swinging bachelor lifestyle for almost eight years. It was a “Mexican Standoff” with my better-half and her son Chris for the first month or so after we moved in. Slowly but surely Stormy began to reel them in until my better-half was finally converted. Chris was more fortunate when he moved to California and broke free of the cats hypnotic effects.
We buy Stormy the best food, we give him fresh water every day, and we shovel and clean his disgusting litter box. He also has access to an outside deck where he can lounge all day in the sun and chase a bird or two. My better-half and I once had a double bed to share our nights together. It has now become a triple bed with Stormy deciding who sleeps where and how much room is allowed for each of us. In the morning God forbid we don’t immediately run to the kitchen to get his breakfast ready or he will bother, harass, and annoy us until we do. He’s a twelve pound, hairy alarm clock with a huge chip on his shoulder.
He loves to play but he can be more than a little rough. I have years of scars on my hands, arms, and feet to prove it. Recently during a play session I really pissed him off and he latched onto my foot. I screamed an obscenity which quickly ended the play time with him scurrying away and me limping to the bathroom for hydrogen peroxide and a band-aid. We didn’t speak for a week and every time we were in the same room he would sit with his back to me and begin the “Big Ignore”. After a week of his shunning I began to feel bad so I made sure his water was fresh, I changed his litter box early, and fed him a treat or two which he refused to eat until I left the room. Finally last night as I was just dozing off he jumped up on the bed and allowed me to move the hell over and make room for him. What a guy. He nudged me a few times expecting to be petted and loved-on a little and of course I complied.
Now I hope you understand if you’re an actual cat person just exactly who owns who. I’d like to continue this little story but the sun’s out and Stormy has been bugging me for the last twenty minutes to open the door to the deck. He’s getting as much deck time as possible while the Fall sunshine lasts and before the snow begins to fly. He gets a bit grumpy if he doesn’t get his deck time because he’s concerned about losing his summer tan.
A lot of people use the term “a dogs life” to define the perfect way to live. I’d much rather have “a cat’s life”.
Well we’ve survived the big day. Our first evening of baby sitting for our newly arrived five week old grand baby. My better-half has slowly devolved from the position of my highly intelligent life partner to an excited and silly young mother in her twenties. I always knew she felt that her years of raising her three children were the best years she’d ever had but I really underestimated that. Her excitement started about a week prior to his visit and built, day-by-day, until she was practically bouncing off the walls.
She was scurrying around the house cleaning just about anything that didn’t move and some things that did, like the cat. She had to destroy all of those nasty germs and bugs before the babies arrival. It was fun to watch because she really hasn’t been this excited about much of anything in recent years, including yours truly. Am I feeling unloved? Not really, but I did feel myself slip one notch on her “people who really matter list”.
I’ve honestly never thought it was possible for anyone to get this excited by changing a smelly diaper or to giggle like a high schooler after being thrown up on. I watched it happen and was astounded by the change in her personality. She was in heaven.
She’s had fantasies for many years about things she wanted to do with her grand children and these two things were apparently high on that list. Another involved my repairing and refinishing an old rocking chair I found in the garage a few years ago. It just happened to be the very same rocker she used to rock her own children. Even though it was in terrible condition she adamantly refused to part with it. One of my Christmas gifts last year involved my rescue of that old chair. I repaired some pieces, I rebuild the springs and horse hair seat, I refinished the entire frame, and reupholstered the seat. It did my heart good to see her living out her fantasy when she sat down and rocked our new arrival in that old chair.
I don’t intent to get mushy about the whole deal but it was something I won’t ever forget. Our lives have again been altered with the addition of this young man to the family and I suspect we’ll all be the better for it. I hope his parents enjoyed their night out on the town and “Happy First Anniversary” to them both.
Patience is a virtue. I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve been told that by family members and friends alike. I guess the reason I’ve heard it so often was that I lacked any patience whatsoever in years past. I was an overachieving, goal oriented, pain in the ass workaholic. For most of my career I worked six days a week and three or four of those days were spent in airplanes flying around the country. So not only was I impatient but I also had a white-knuckle fear of flying which made me more than a little irritable. Not many people knew of my flying phobia and I never made anyone aware of it until much later in my life. For years I was on the go constantly and when I made a request I was a major-league pain-in-the-ass about making sure it was honored. That included associates that worked for me, the people that worked with me, and any service personnel paid to do a specific job.
After twenty years I left the “rat race” and spent the next seven years working for the State of Maine in a job that was hectic but not crazy. During that seven years I was able to dial it back a little and tried to be a little more patient with friends and family. I still had my moments but I felt like I was getting it under control. Out of the blue I began to suffer from severe headaches and fits of rage. Being the paranoid person that I am I found a doctor who ran a normal battery of tests to determine what my issues were. Come to find out I had been suffering from seriously high blood pressure for a number of years and was verging on real problems. The doctor directed me to find a hobby or two to help calm me down. The medication I was immediately given calmed me down in a big way. After so many years of high blood pressure I had a tough time adapting to being so calm. I felt like I was high all the time but I was assured by the doctor that would pass as I became accustomed to the medication. He was right and after a time I leveled out.
Now to find a hobby. I’d been a winemaker for years but not recently. Winemaking forces you to become patient, like it or not. Mix the ingredients together, put in the yeast, and you’re then required to wait up to three or four months to see the final product. During that time you have to baby that wine if you want a satisfactory batch. It actually helped me a great deal. I had been a half-assed photographer for years and returned to it gladly. Nothing is more calming than communing with Mother Nature and hoping against hope to be in the right place at the right time to get that Kodak moment wildlife shot.
Yesterday was a sunny and reasonably warm Fall day here in Maine. I spent two hours sitting with my back against a tree out in the middle of nowhere attempting to get a photograph of either a bear cub or a barn owl. Three years ago I stumbled into a isolated area and sitting in a tree about 5 feet away from me was that owl. He’d been sleeping and when I walked up he became frightened and flew away. He only flew a few feet before landing in a nearby tree. I took approximately 20 photographs of him in that tree from all angles. They were some of the best pictures I’d taken up until that time. I’ve been returning to that area for years now and have seen him flying above me but never again had him sitting in a tree. I’m now patient enough to eventually be successful.
The bear is pretty much the same story. I happened to be walking through a wooded area and I heard a rustling about 30 feet up a nearby tree. I looked up and sitting in that tree with just the top of his head sticking up from behind the leaves was a baby bear. I snapped one photograph and he ducked back into the leaf cover. Being the careful person that I am I knew where there was a bear cub there was also a mother some where nearby. I backed off immediately because I had no way to defend myself if she showed up. I’ve returned dozens of times trying to find that young bear and possibly get a decent photograph or two. Now that I’m patient person I may eventually find them but even if I don’t I’ve still succeeded.
What’s the moral of this story? You decide.
I mentioned about a week ago that I was reasonably sure that the History Channel would begin the “Dooms Day” drumbeat once the election was over. I hate to say “I told you so” but “I told you so”. They’ve been playing the same old programs about the Mayan predictions and for the millionth time we also are getting hammered with tales of Nostradamus. Apparently the “Doomsday” flu has also begun to infect someone in my household as well when my back was turned and I wasn’t paying the proper attention.
Certain mornings are a special time for me when sleeping-in is permitted, no telephone calls are taken, and snuggling with my honey is looked forward to. Until this morning that is. I was warm and toasty and in that place between sleep and awake where weird dreams and odd thoughts make their appearances. It’s a place I look forward to visiting often and many good ideas and projects have been started there. My better-half was tossing and turning and she then slowly rolled over, looked me in the eye, and stated clearly “Do you think we’re survivalists?”. I was dumb-founded but immediately answered “No”. She then asked if I thought we had enough guns and ammunition to get us through the trouble that was coming. Again I said “No”. Too weird! It seems that some of my better-half’s family have been whispering “Doomsday” craziness to her and she’s been somewhat infected. I assured her that Doomsday prophesies aren’t uncommon and that I could easily remember at least five from recent years alone.
Pat Robertson, 1982 – In May 1980, televangelist and Christian Coalition founder startled and alarmed many when he informed his “700 Club” TV show audience around the world that he knew when the world would end.
Heaven’s Gate, 1997 – When comet Hale-Bopp appeared in 1997, rumors surfaced that an alien spacecraft was following the comet — covered up, of course, by NASA and the astronomical community. Though the claim was refuted by astronomers (and could be refuted by anyone with a good telescope), the rumors were publicized on Art Bell’s paranormal radio talk show “Coast to Coast AM.” These claims inspired a San Diego UFO cult named Heaven’s Gate to conclude that the world would end soon. The world did indeed end for 39 of the cult members, who committed suicide on March 26, 1997.
Nostradamus, August 1999 – The heavily obfuscated and metaphorical writings of Michel de Nostrdame have intrigued people for over 400 years: “The year 1999, seventh month / From the sky will come great king of terror.”
God’s Church Ministry, Fall 2008 – According to God’s Church minister Ronald Weinland, the end times are upon us– again. His 2006 book “2008: God’s Final Witness” states that hundreds of millions of people will die, and by the end of 2006, “there will be a maximum time of two years remaining before the world will be plunged into the worst time of all human history.
The Mayans, 12/21/2012 – A few thousand, human sacrificing, savages decided long ago that the earth would end this December. It’s amazing how many reasonably intelligent people eat this nonsense up. I’m certainly not getting all excited by the ravings of a bunch of primitive Indians who weren’t smart enough to keep their own civilization from disappearing.
I hope I’ve succeeded in convincing her and anyone reading this that Dooms Day nonsense has been around for centuries and panicked millions of people for no good reason. Why do certain arrogant humans believe that for whatever reason they’ve been given all the answers by God and he apparently just “needed to tell someone”. Crap piled on crap, and covered with more crap.
We had a wonderful night tonight. Celebrating my better-half’s birthday is always a treat and she didn’t let me down. We went out for dinner and she absolutely consumed a gigantic steak and all of the fixings. She had a tough day at work and I could tell she was exhausted but all I had to do was mention the word steak and she was ready to go.
I don’t know whether any of you’ve had the opportunity to eat at a Texas Roadhouse restaurant but I highly recommend it. I love a good steak as much as the next guy but there are times when other dishes call to me. Last night as I was perusing the menu I found something I wasn’t expecting and I had an OMG moment. I love steak but instead ordered some good old down home country fried chicken with a white sauce that was to die for. This is no lie, I ate until I couldn’t eat another mouthful and it was wonderful. While I was pigging out on the chicken my better-half was devouring a large chunk of cow. It sounded and appeared to be delicious. Of course since she was the birthday girl it was required by the restaurant staff that she be recognized with a rootin-tootin country “Happy Birthday”. They dragged her out of our booth and seated her on a saddle while the entire restaurant and staff hooted and howled and wished her a happy birthday. She was thrilled and I thanked God it wasn’t my birthday. Reminder to Self: Don’t go near a Texas Roadhouse on your birthday.
After a couple of drinks and that huge meal we made our way home, opened a few gifts, and then vegged out. I knew she was very tired and wasn’t going to last much longer. She only blew out the candle on her cake since neither of us could eat another mouthful of food. All in all we had a great time and celebrated the hell out of her birthday. She had an early day of work but still had enough energy left to talk to her children when they made their obligatory birthday calls from different parts of the country.
As always I’m a bit of a nighthawk and stayed awake for another few hours doing a little reading and little thinking. I’m on the verge of finishing the second Harry Potter book but it’s not near as good as the first one. Two thirds of the way through I started to get bored with the story but continued on because I had assurances from friends that each book gets progressively better than the last. I finally put Harry Potter off to the side and again attempted to read the book that has become my recent frustration. Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie is the toughest book I’ve ever tried to read except for possibly the Talmud and the Koran. I discovered one thing last evening. I’m never going to finish this book because it is just so much bullshit and nonsense. I’ve had people brag to me about reading this book and I’ve come to the conclusion it’s more about their snobbery than reading anything of consequence. How in the hell this book created such a furor within the Muslim community is beyond me. In my opinion it’s highly overrated in every respect. So consider this my book club selection of the month and here’s my true feelings. Don’t read it, it sucks, it’s boring, it’s freaking stupid, and I hate it. There, I feel better already.
A good nights sleep and I’ll be ready for the week of pre-Thanksgiving propaganda to come.
I really try never to be a person who uses class-warfare tactics like so many people in this country do today. That puts me in a definite minority as reflected by Obama’s re-election. Everyone claims to hate negative campaigning but those same people allow it to effect their vote. People say they hate smooth talking, insincere politicians and then vote them back into office without a second thought. I’ve finally been forced to admit that people who feel as I do and live their lives as I do are losing the battle for this country. I see Obama’s plan working as he probably knew it would. He’s a master manipulator and uses ethnic issues and race better than most KKK members. I understand why the “have not’s” flock to his banner because of his divisive campaigning techniques that have convinced a majority of the country that without his government they are doomed. I suppose I’ll now be listed as a crank or someone who is no longer in touch with the rest of the country. That’s a label I wear proudly and always will. You may find this interesting so read on.
"The average age of the world’s greatest civilizations from the beginning of history, has been about 200 years. During those 200 years, these nations always progressed through the following sequence:
From bondage to spiritual faith;
From spiritual faith to great courage;
From courage to liberty;
From liberty to abundance;
From abundance to complacency;
From complacency to apathy;
From apathy to dependence;
From dependence back into bondage."
It doesn’t take a genius to determine where this country currently is on this road-to-destruction list, is it? I’d say we’ve just crossed over into “Apathy to Dependence”. Obama has steadily pushed, pulled, and manipulated the nation to the edge of this cliff and he’ll continues to push until we fall off. His next big challenge will be the rewriting of laws concerning term limits for the Presidency. He will certainly attempt to stay in office as long as he possibly can. Add that together with increased dependence on the government, voter apathy, and a loss by the younger generations of pride in their country, and here we are.
Today started out reasonably well. For a change I slept in till nine and when I awoke found my cat asleep at my feet. That explained why he hadn’t been nagging me for his breakfast. My better-half surprised both the cat and me by getting up early and feeding him. NICE!
I made the journey into the dark recesses of my man-cave and posted my blog without too much editing. NICE AGAIN!
My better-half loudly entered my man-cave without written permission to let me know we’d be going shopping in ten minutes. OKAY BUT NOT SO NICE.
We arrive at the supermarket and all of my nice feelings started to fade. The place was packed with people all scurrying around which led me to believe that another “world ending” storm of “biblical proportions” might be approaching. My better-half who monitors weather reporting religiously immediately set me straight and we continued on the shopping safari. NOT NICE.
As always I was minding my own business and cruising the aisles when I made a wrong turn and my worst nightmare was realized. Just so you know I’m a bit claustrophobic. Not only was I trapped by groups of shoppers but someone nearby was really stinking up the place. I’ve smelled my share of BO but OMFG this was more than a little offensive. I pinpointed the man in question fairly easily because ten other customers were desperately trying to get the hell away from him in state of panic. He looked relatively normal, was nicely dressed, and appeared well groomed. To quote a M*A*S*H episode, “if you took a rotten egg and put it in a dirty sock and hid it under your bed for a week” would just about cover this guy’s aroma. His one obvious handicap was his own lack of a sense of smell. REALLY NOT NICE.
I escaped finally and finished my shopping but when I spotted that dude heading for the checkout register I gave him all the room I could. He made his way through the checkout line and stopped at the cashier. The faces being made and the nasty looks he received were blatantly obvious but had no noticeable effect on him. We made it back to our car and drove away. OKAY BUT STILL NOT NICE.
Arrived home. NICE!
This is my day for doing a little thinking and enjoying my few hours of quiet time. 2012 has been an interesting year for me primarily because of the pregnancy of my better-half’s daughter and the birth of her first child. It’s the first time in many years that I’ve had the pleasure of watching someone close to me develop for the full nine months and then to be present in the hospital for the birth of the child. Watching her steadily increasing size was interesting but the thing that really grabbed me was the movements of the baby during that last trimester.
I recall a sunny afternoon on our deck last summer where she and I were enjoying the day and as we were speaking I could see her shirt moving as the baby reacted to her voice. She then proceeded to push on her belly to move him around a bit to make things more more comfortable. I haven’t been closely involved with any pregnant women for more years than I care to think about and I was surprised by my own reaction. I told her that it was creepy and gave me goose-bumps. I then asked how it really felt to feel that little body moving around inside her. She gently took the time to explain to me in some detail what she was feeling and how excited she was about the upcoming birth. It takes a lot to touch me but she did. To see her so happy and excited moved me more than I thought possible. Just a short time ago she was a young, inexperienced college student trying to find her way in this world. Just a few short years later she’s a teacher, a wife, and soon to be a mother. Amazing. As we were sitting in the waiting room in the hospital a few months later I thought about that moment on the deck and just smiled. She was now in the birthing room going through something I could never experience or understand and she couldn’t wait to get there.
Our new little man made his grand entrance on schedule and he’s doing exceptionally well at the grand old age of four weeks? I’m really looking forward to the day when he and I can sit on that same deck and I can tell him this story.
And one more thing before I go. If we men were responsible for child bearing and had to go through nine months of what most women do, the planet would be free of human beings. Just saying.
Well, we’re ten days into the month of November and it’s hard to believe that just a few short weeks ago I was sitting on my deck wearing a T-shirt and shorts and enjoying the warm weather. In my attempt to be optimistic I refuse to think that for the next long, boring, and weather beaten five months I’ll be housebound.
Today is a day of odds and ends. I first went to the granddaddy of all retailers, Walmart, to pick up a few things and to enjoy a reasonably nice day. Walmart as usual is a freaking zoo. Just pulling into the parking lot is an adventure where all those years of amusement park bumper cars finally paid off. It’s a Friday morning in November at 7:15 am and I was hard-pressed to find a decent parking spot. The lot was full, people wandering everywhere, and none paying the slightest attention to the moving vehicles. It was a good morning to play “idiot hockey” and test the reflexes of all the late night partiers stumbling into the Dunkin Donuts inside the Walmart. They were pretty nimble and were still moving quickly enough to avoid a vinyl bumper up their ass. I guess I’m showing my lack of patience but I really don’t care. The only thing worse than a discourteous driver is a discourteous pedestrian and I’m surprised and shocked that more of them aren’t seriously injured on a regular basis. Oh well enough of my complaining it’s time to get into the store, do my shopping, and get the hell out.
The store was fairly crowded with the normal oddballs and yahoo’s roaming around and giving us other humans something to talk about. I needed a few dietary supplements so I wandered over towards the pharmacy. As I’m walking down the aisle near the condoms I overhear two women in a rather heated discussion about which ones were the best? Should we get ribbed or lubricated? You can’t buy that size, he’s not that big. This went on for a few minutes and I found a label to read on a nearby product because I didn’t want to miss anything. I had to chuckle a few times and try not to be too obvious but my presence didn’t seem to faze them at all. They were reading the box descriptions out loud to each other, comparing notes, and laughing hysterically. Gone are the days when we men were forced to sneak into drugstores and buy condoms on the QT. I suppose it’s only fair these days that I’m occasionally required to buy feminine hygiene products for my better-half.
I thought about those ladies and their conversation all the way home. I’ve never been a big fan of condoms and when possible I wouldn’t use them. Fortunately for me when I was acting wild and crazy STD’s weren’t as a big an issue as they are today. All I had to do then was determine if the woman I was pursuing was on the pill or not. If not, I proceeded on to the next possible partner. The way things are these days I wouldn’t attempt sex with a any partner unless I wore a body condom. Bearing all that in mind when I got home I decided to do a little research on condoms. I have a fairly extensive library of books containing tons and tons of totally useless information and trivia. It took me about 10 min. to find what I was looking for and I’m making it available to you free of charge. You just can’t have enough information about condoms.
Condoms have been with us much longer than you might have imagined. Condoms are supposedly named after the apocryphal,”Dr. Condom”, or Conton, who is supposed to have made them for Charles II, out of lamb’s intestines, which were dried and then well oiled. The mail sheath, however, had been around long before the time of Charles II. Before the time of Christ, the Chinese made them with oiled silk paper (the first lubricated condoms). It is rumored that Roman soldiers would make condoms from the muscle tissue of their defeated foes. By mid-evil times, the spread of syphilis increased the use of condoms greatly. In the 1800s condoms were made from animal intestines that were soaked in an alkaline solution, scraped, disinfected with the vapor of burning brimstone, washed, insulated, dried, cut to approximately 7 inches, and fitted with a ribbon on the open end. The Catholic Church wasn’t too crazy about this prophylactic profusion and in 1826 Pope Leo the XIII condemned their use. Despite the objections of his Holiness, condoms were here to stay!
Making this detailed history of condoms available should be considered my November public service announcement.
You’re very welcome.
everyuselessthing.com 