Years ago my favorite blogger, the late, great, Acid Man, wrote a few hundred words on swearing, cussing, and the differences between the two. I am nowhere near as eloquent as he but here goes anyway.
I come from an area in the country known for its blue-collar roots, coal miners, mill workers, and some downright bad ass cusser’s. Western Pennsylvania is arrogant in its pride of self and I find myself guilty of that at times. At age four I was sitting on a street corner in Natrona, Pennsylvania with my grandfather and swearing for nickels and pennies from his buddies. If by chance I yelled the ultimate motherfucker, I got a quarter and some ice cream. So you have to admit I come by swearing honestly.
Of course we were all raised as avid Steeler fans and if you didn’t curse loudly and often enough while watching their games then you were a horse’s ass. Any bastard who called some other son-of-a-bitch a rotten prick was a no good shithead or so I’ve been told. You always had to be ready to voice your support for the Steelers as they kicked the shit out of those pussies from Cleveland and those bastards from Houston (hopefully).
We lived in a diverse area with Irish, Poles, Slavs, Blacks, Italians, and the occasional Hispanic. To be a professional cusser in our neighborhood you had to know cuss words in at least six different languages to be properly understood. We were the UN of fucking, half-assed, dirty rotten language and damn proud of it.
I’ve now lived in New England for more than 37 years and I have to admit that the swearing here is a little more laid back than I’m used to. A little too polite and prissy for a boy from fucking Pennsylvania. I actually look forward to trips back home where I can walk into a bar after 37 years of living in New England and have someone say, “Hey, who let that motherfucker in here and is he buying the next goddamn round?”. It’s just not the same here in New England. Two F-bombs in one sentence seems to be too much for New England sensibilities. Well hell, if they don’t fucking like it they can kiss my fucking ass.
I’ve collected a large amount of miscellaneous information over the years and have saved only a small percentage of it. I only keep things that are interesting to me and a little unusual. Many of you may have seen the following information in the past in one form or another but many have not. Since it’s a lazy day here in Maine I’m sending this along for your amusement and also because of my inability to motivate myself this morning. These facts are truly strange and go well beyond the level of coincidence. Read on and enjoy some gruesome American history.
Abraham Lincoln was elected to Congress in 1846.
John F. Kennedy was elected to Congress in 1946.
Abraham Lincoln was elected president in 1860.
John F. Kennedy was elected president in 1960.
The names Lincoln and Kennedy each contains seven letters.
Both were particularly concerned with civil rights.
Both wives lost children while living in the White House.
Both Presidents were shot on a Friday.
Both Presidents were shot in the head.
Lincoln’s secretary was named Kennedy.
Kennedy’s secretary was named Lincoln.
Both were assassinated by Southerners.
Both successors were named Johnson.
Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln, was born in 1808.
Lyndon Johnson, who succeeded Kennedy, was born in 1908.
John Wilkes Booth, who assassinated Lincoln, was born in 1839.
Lee Harvey Oswald, who assassinated Kennedy, was born in 1939.
Both assassins were known by their three names.
Both names were composed of 15 letters.
Lincoln was shot at the theater named Ford.
Kennedy was shot in a car called Lincoln.
Booth ran from a theater and was caught in a warehouse.
Oswald ran from a warehouse and was caught in a theater.
Booth and Oswald were both assassinated before their trials.
And here’s the kicker
A week before Lincoln was shot, he was in Monroe, Maryland.
A week before Kennedy was shot, he was in Marilyn Monroe.
I’m talking about hide and seek at dusk, sitting on the porch. Hot bread and butter, eating a super-duper sandwich (Dagwood), Red light, Green light, 123.
Chocolate milk, lunch tickets, any candy in a brown paper bag. Hopscotch, butterscotch, Double-Dutch, jacks, kickball and dodgeball. Mother, May I? Hula Hoops, sunflower seeds, jawbreakers, blow pops, Mary Janes, and running through the sprinklers. The smell of the sun and licking salty lips.
Wait . . .
Watching lightning bugs in a jar, playing slingshot and Red Rover. When around the corner seemed far away, and going downtown seemed like going somewhere.
Bedtime, climbing trees. 1 million mosquito bites and sticky fingers. Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, sitting on the curb, jumping down the steps, jumping on the bed, and pillow fights.
Being tickled to death, running until you are out of breath. Laughing so hard that your stomach hurt. Being tired from playing . . . Remember that?
I’m not finished yet . . .
What about the girl that had the big bubbly handwriting? Licking the beater when your mother made cake. When there were two types of sneakers for boys and girls (Keds and PF Flyers), and the only time you wore them at school was for “gym”.
When nobody owned a purebred dog. When the quarter was a decent allowance, and another quarter a huge bonus. When you’d reach into a muddy gutter for a penny. When girls neither dated or kissed until late high school, if then. When your mom wore nylons that came in two pieces.
When you got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, for free. And you didn’t pay for air, and you got trading stamps to boot! When laundry detergent had free glasses, dishes or towels hidden inside the boxes.
When any parent could discipline any kid, or feed him or use him to carry groceries, and nobody, not even the kid, thought anything of it. When it was considered a great privilege to be taken out to dinner at a real restaurant with your parents.
Not done yet . . .
When all of your male teachers wore neckties and female teachers had their hair done, every day. When they threatened to keep kids back a grade if they failed… And did! When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home. Having a weapon in school, meant being caught with a slingshot. When nearly everyone’s Mom was at home when the kids got there.
Basically, we were in fear for our lives but it wasn’t because of drive-by shootings, drugs, gangs, etc. Disapproval of our parents and grandparents was a much bigger threat!
Decisions were made by going “eeny-meanie-miney-mo”. Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, “do over!” Race issue meant arguing about who ran the fastest. Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in Monopoly.
Catching fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening. It wasn’t odd to have two or three “best friends”. Being old, referred to anyone over 20. The net on a tennis court was the perfect height to play volleyball and rules didn’t matter. It was unbelievable that dodgeball wasn’t an Olympic event.
The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties. It was magic when Dad would remove his thumb. Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better.
For years I’ve collected lists, sayings, and quotations. The more I find, the more you get to read. One of these days I’m going to sit down and put together some of my thoughts, my limericks, and my musings. They’re sure to be just as interesting as these folks. And in
It’s not death that alarms me, but dying surely does.
A diplomat is a person who always remembers a woman’s birthday, but never her age.
In wine there is truth. Pliny the Elder
It’s not the men in my life I worry about, it’s the life in my men. Mae West
I can remember way back when a liberal was one who was generous with his own money. Will Rogers
Fish and guests smell in three days. Ben Franklin
A pessimist thinks all women are bad and an optimist hopes they are.
The ultimate rejection is when your hand falls asleep while masturbating.
Sex is only dirty, if it’s done right.
A single death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic. Joseph Stalin
Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.
I prefer an interesting device to a boring virtue.
What goes around, comes around.
He who hesitates is last. Mae West
Some of us are becoming the men we wanted to marry. Gloria Steinem
I am not young enough to know everything.
The zoo is a place of refuge were savage beasts are protected from people.
I found this list while digging around in some old boxes a few days ago. I eliminated a few that were dated like cheap shots at Bill Clinton. But those that remain I felt were worth sharing with you. Most of them I absolutely love especially those pearls of wisdom supplied by Mae West. Would’ve loved to have met her.
It’s now the end of September and after reading all of the memorials and remembrances of 9/11, I decided to go my own way. I don’t want to write another heart-wrenching memorial because it’s been done by just about everyone else. I think I would like to highlight the perpetrators and their ilk who continue to commit murder and mayhem unchecked almost everywhere. I can only do the one thing they absolutely hate, that is to ridicule them. We all know they have no sense of humor so someone needs to poke the bear. That would be me. Read on . . .
YOU MAY BE A MUSLIM IF . . .
You refine heroin for a living, but you have a moral objection to liquor.
You own a $3000 machine gun and a $5000 rocket launcher, but you can’t afford shoes.
You have more wives than teeth.
You wipe your butt with your bare hand, but consider bacon unclean.
You think vests come in two styles: bullet-proof and suicide.
You can’t think of anyone you haven’t declared Jihad against.
You consider television dangerous, but routinely carry explosives in your underwear.
You were amazed to discover that cell phones have uses other than setting off roadside bombs.
You have nothing against women and think every man should own at least four.
Your cousin was once President of United States.
You find this offensive or racist and you don’t forward it.
What more can I say? If only half of these statements are true, those people aren’t worth any more of my valuable time. I’ve got more important things to do, like scratching my ass, picking my nose, or just about anything else.
I love looking back at this country’s politics in my attempt to learn where all of the bad habits of our political elite have been learned. One of the major criticisms of our current politicians is that they are only concerned with “soundbites” rather than substance. Since I agree with that criticism I decided to try and pin down where it all started. The rise of the Mainstream Media has always been blamed for “sound biting” every candidate until we could just scream. What I discovered was more than just a little interesting. The use of campaign slogans began well before the media became so powerful. The following slogans are sometimes cute, sometimes hurtful, but always entertaining. This is just a small sampling of old and new campaign slogans that started the “soundbite revolution”.
Tippecanoe and Tyler, Too -1840
Fifty-Four or Fight -1844
Equal Rights to All, Special Privileges to None -1900
Stand Pat With McKinley -1900
Keep Cool With Coolidge -1924
A Chicken in Every Pot, A Car in Every Garage -1928
In Hoover We Trusted and Now We Are Busted -1948
One Good Term Deserves Another -1934
I’m Just Wild About Harry -1948
To Err is Truman -1948
Phooey on Dewey -1948
I Like Ike -1952
I Still Like Ike -1953
In Your Guts You Know He’s Nuts -1964
Never Been Indicted -1980
It’s the Economy Stupid -1992
I guess we’ve come by it honestly. Apparently we citizens always were suckers for cheesy “soundbites” even when they were just called “campaign slogans”.
HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE “TIME FOR CHANGE” AGAIN IN 2024
This is my former owner “Stormy” who passed away 3 years ago after suffering a heart attack. He spent 17 years with me and is sadly missed. This post is in his memory.
He was a sly and subtle cat who was laid back and always appeared aloof and uncaring. I’ve been acquainted over many years with seven cats and each one has had its own peculiarities and personality quirks. After years of observing them all I’ve determined that one characteristic was common to them all. I call it the 20 second, Delayed Response Syndrome. With dogs you shout a command and they spring to their feet wagging their tails and just begging to do your bidding. I think cats get the same rush from our attention but they choose not to show it quite so openly. They’ll sit and wait for 20 seconds then nonchalantly stroll over to see what’s going on. Try it out yourself if you’re owned by a cat, it’s amazing.
You’ll also note that I continually say “owned by a cat” and I’m not kidding. Years ago I read a Sci-Fi short story that went a long way to convincing me that an actual alien invasion of the Earth had already taken place. Apparently thousands of years ago the first cats landed on this planet and began their slow and deliberate takeover. Many people say the Chinese are people who think long-term. Compared to cats the Chinese have the attention span of a moth around a flame. I consider myself a well trained and officially certified pet belonging to a cat.
Let me explain further. My better-half was a dog person and when we finally decided to cohabitate I was concerned about her relationship with “Stormy”. He and I had been together for almost 10 years at that time and had been living the swinging bachelor lifestyle. It appeared to be a Mexican standoff with my better-half and her son for the first month but slowly and surely Stormy began to reel them in.
We bought him only the best food, fresh water every day, and we shoveled and cleaned his disgusting litter box all too often. He also had access to an outside deck where he could lounge all day in the sun and chase a bird or two. He had the good life and he knew it.
We mourned the loss of Stormy but life must go on. After a year and a half we finally decided we needed a new owner and we made a trip to the local shelter. Now let me introduce you all to the new Queen of the World, “Lucy”.
She is a handful. She is snippy, sassy, and opinionated. She is the center of her own universe and therefore so are we. She is attitude personified and has enough for ten cats. If we feed her food she doesn’t like, she just walks away. She also expects special treats each and every time someone walks near her food dishes.
Stormy was always a quiet unassuming cat but she is anything but. She never shuts up. She walks through the house showing her annoyance with just about everything. God help us all if the litter box isn’t kept clean enough. She’ll just squeal a little and then poop on the floor next to it and then just strut away. As you can see in the photo she has that “evil eye” thing going on. She gives me that stare at least ten times a day.
Finally last night as I was just dozing off she jumped up on the bed and allowed me to move the hell over and make room for her. What a sweetheart. Because I didn’t immediately begin to pet and cuddle her she turned her back on me and left the room. I found her later sleeping on my chair in the living room.
I’d like to continue this story but the sun’s coming out and Queen Lucy has been bugging me for the last 20 minutes to open the door to the deck. She gets a tad grumpy if she doesn’t get her deck time.
If you read this blog at all you know how much I detest political correctness. I come by that honestly due in part to a man who assisted me in setting up my first blog many years ago. His ideas and writings on political correctness are exactly the same as mine. He is what you might call my “blog father” and his name was Rob “Acidman” Smith. Unfortunately for us all he passed away on June 26th 2006. He’s been missed by me and many others and his blog remains online, maintained by his family. It will always hold a place of honor on my Favorites List. I visit him there on a regular basis to read his old postings because they’re still as pertinent to the discussion today as they were back then. If you’re interested, his blog is called gutrumbles.com, check it out. You are missed Rob.
Acidman
As you are well aware there are many bright people in this world who see the dangers of political correctness and the ongoing damage that it’s causing within the society. It’s become so ingrained in our society that it’s now the norm rather than the exception. My main question, can it be reversed? Seems to me correcting political correctness will be a long-term and difficult process. As anyone can see it’s taken a few decades to drag us down to this level and very well may take a few more decades to correct it.
It seems to me that the fault belongs primarily with academia. Public education systems in this country are being run by a liberally biased group of academics whose whole purpose is to brainwash each upcoming generation to embrace political correctness and to revile those who don’t. The amount of power wielded by the teachers unions across the country has made it virtually impossible to root out these individuals and to reclaim control over our education system.
There you have it folks, responsibility for correcting political correctness is once again in the hands of the parents. I think it’s time that PTA groups across this country become better organized so they’re able to rein in the administrators and not rubber-stamp every stupid and ignorant idea being shoved down their throats by school committees. Lazy parents concede control over school subject matter and then blame everyone but themselves for the results. Stand up, be heard, and take back control of your children’s schools. I’m all for turning the kids into productive citizens and not just people who worship social causes, the environment, and poo poo personal responsibility.
I’ve been giving serious thought to topics normally considered women’s issues. In actuality all women’s issues are really men’s issues too. If the women’s issues are addressed, approved, and implemented, we men are affected as well. I’m really not writing about women’s issues per se but more about the woman’s movement in particular.
Most people in this country think the women’s movement started in the U.S. in the sixties with bra-burning (my personal favorite), free love (another favorite), and the birth of feminism (not so much). The truth of the matter is that that the women’s movement started many decades ago in countries around the world and is still alive and well. Places like Afghanistan, needless to say, are lagging behind by a few centuries. During those centuries women were pushed into the background, dominated by men, and we’re required to be barefoot and pregnant as often as possible. Arranged marriages were common in many cultures making a woman’s choice of just about anything impossible. Women kept inching their way forward, one step at a time, three steps forward and then two steps back. They will never stop regardless of the price they have to pay.
In the United States women’s suffrage came to a head in Utah where men hoped by giving women the right to vote they could dispose of the Mormon tradition of polygamy. As soon as polygamy was voted out the male-dominated Congress of the United States turned around and disenfranchised those same women. It wasn’t until the end of the nineteenth century that Idaho, Colorado, Utah, and Wyoming again enfranchised women after diligent efforts by the suffragette movements at state level.
So here we are in the 21st century and probably within twenty years of seeing the first woman president of the United States. I hope I’m alive to see it. I’ve been impressed with a few women over the years who I would have voted for in an instant if given the chance. Margaret Thatcher for one (unfortunately wrong country), Jean Kirkpatrick, former UN Ambassador, and Condoleezza Rice as well. But never Hilary Clinton, OMG NEVER! We’ve now had our first black president and I’m certain no woman I know could do as bad a job as he and Biden have done and are doing.
I have a great deal of admiration for the women who came before. They paved the way for our modern women with their blood, sweat, and tears. At the same time I thumb my nose to Gloria Steinem and her ilk who turned the woman’s rights movement into radical feminism and used that organization for their own liberal political agenda. I began blogging seriously 11 years ago and during that time I’ve read and communicated with a host of women of all ages. I’ve been impressed with what I’ve read and also with the written conversations I’ve had with many of you. Women will continue to make even greater strides in the coming decades and all of you young ladies out there should remember your history and continue the good fight.
It’s the dream of every American to own their own home. Owning a home has always been an important symbol of a person’s independence and financial stability. In these somewhat precarious times home ownership has become something much different. It’s a new pandemic economy.
That being said it’s still better to own a home than to rent. I’ve owned a number of homes over the years and not only were they a financial plus, I just really enjoyed maintaining them and improving them. I’ve always taken a lot of pride in any home that I’ve owned and that’s why I’m so particular about what I allow on my property.
I’ve had good neighbors, bad neighbors, and neighbors who I’ve desperately tried to forget. My father always told me that “good fences make for good neighbors”, and it’s still true to this day. I’m a firm believer in maintaining minimal contact with neighbors except in cases of emergency where they may need help or assistance. I’m a big proponent of the Neighborhood Watch concept which accomplishes important tasks for the protection of the neighborhood and its children. It’s only when you begin to socialize with your neighbors that trouble is sure to begin. Being my neighbor doesn’t make you my best friend, only an accidental acquaintance brought about by my purchase of my home.
So with some humor and a little seriousness here’s my list of ten things I never want to find in my yard. This list has been compiled over the years and includes information about past and present neighbors.
Phony and disturbing faux-sculptures made by neighbors from a collection of junk.
There’s nothing like waking up every morning to a large pile of lamely connected garbage which has been anointed as “fine art” by my neighbor. Where’s that stick of dynamite when you need it?
Dogs and their ever-present droppings.
What’s better than taking a walk around your yard after a summer rain and stepping into a pile deposited by the neighbors dog. Don’t you just love the smell of “dog shit” in the morning.
Tire tracks.
Finding these early on Sunday mornings mean empty beer cans somewhere nearby.
Salesman and their line of BS.
Invest in a mean and nasty dog or a really fine looking “NO SOLICITING SIGN“.
Jehovah’s Witnesses, your attitude and literature.
This is a particular favorite of mine. I love inviting them in for some bad language and inappropriate stories.
Mother Nature’s Little Friends.
Feeding birds and squirrels are one thing but all of the deer, skunks, and other garden eating critters place their lives at risk by entering my garden.
Nosey neighbors and their endless curiosity.
This is when a fence would come in handy.
Mailbox crushing snow plows.
This has cost me four mailboxes in six years and the town takes no responsibility. This is called “Government doing it to the people”.
In-laws and other unfriendly family members.
Keep the bed hard, the food bad, and always be short of beer and liquor.
Outlaws and other criminal types.
Buy a gun or two and lots of ammo. Once you enter my home uninvited it becomes what us former military men call “a free fire zone”. Don’t even think about it.
* * *
I’ve had a menagerie of neighbors over the years and could tell you stories you wouldn’t believe. I’ve had some I’ve liked, some I have loved (literally and figuratively), some that I’ve hated, and many others I’ve never gotten to know at all. Overall I was always considered by most of them to be a better-than-average neighbor.
everyuselessthing.com 