Saturday, February 27, 2010

The President is not listening to his advisors...;

I'm talking about President Harry Truman.

A couple months before I was born, Harry the haberdasher from Missouri was stuck with a huge political problem. If you don't know, it's important to understand that FDR had decided to replace his Vice-President for his next term, which he won handily, with the white bread Harry Truman. A serious man with limited political ambitions. No one really knows why FDR did this.

Then FDR died shortly into his term and Harry the haberdasher was President.

This was at the end of WW2. Iron Joe Stalin had moved his Russian troops, who were still alive because of the Allied help, to take over all of Germany that he could. He got about half. About a hundred miles plus into his territory was Berlin. He had it surrounded and was feeling really good. For a dictator that means powerful and unstoppable.

Iron Joe made an ultimatum. Give up Berlin, or (he hinted) start World War 3.

America and the world was sick of war. I'm not talking 4000 killed in Afghanistan. I'm talking hundreds and hundreds of thousands of lives around the world. Iron Joe was going all in.

President Harry Truman called all his best minds together. They sat around a table at the White House. His experts laid out what most of them knew. Secretary of State. Secretary of War. Ambassadors and experts. He asked for a poll as to what to do. To a man they said "It ain't worth it." One city verses World War 3.

Harry listen carefully. He asked questions. At the end of the meeting he stood up. They all stood up. He was the President. He walked to the door and turned. "We are not giving up Berlin." he said. "I want contingency plans on my desk." And walked out.

Within weeks young pilots were flying extremely dangerous relief missions to the city. Search for the history on this, it is fascinating.

Here's my kicker. Some Cabinet Secretaries came up with a plan to put Germans on a 1200 calorie diet. Leave them small and weak so they are not a threat again. Can't you see this mentality? The pilots and airmen saw that the German women would come and raid their garbage for food for their families. These young men. Nineteen maybe. Twenty-two maybe. Watched this and knew it was wrong. They began to purposefully put food out into the garbage. The hell with 1200 calories. There were babies out there.

Don't think that just because someone seems important and powerful that they are 1:) smart, and 2:) out for your best interest.

Thank God for the little man. A haberdasher in this case, or a nineteen year old soldier. They usually do right.

This is America. Do not listen to the well paid talking heads. Search for the information that is important and don't take it for granted. Double check it. Resist emotion. Do good.


Friday, February 26, 2010

Busy, Busy, Busy so here's a laugh

It's just been crazy in the world of Weed King so I don't have the time today to blog so here's is one of my all time favorite cartoons from my favorite cartooner Gary Larson. I mean this is funny and I don't care who you are.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Catching Catfish

You ever catch a catfish? You ever catch a ten pound channel cat while in an inner tube with a string with a hook on the end? You ever catch a ten pound channel cat while in an inner tube with a string with a hook on it and try to paddle back to your boat one handed while the catfish is thrashing around and ends up in your lap in the inner tube and the only thing you can do is grab it hard with your thumb in its mouth to watch it grind its sharp little teeth into your thumb while the blood flows freely and you are trying to paddle back to your boat one handed. No, you never did that. Then you are not the thing that legends are made of. I, on the other hand was a short time legend in Moweaqua Illinois. Riding with my father in law we stopped at a fella's house and I was introduced and the man looked at me for a long moment then said, "Yer the fella what caught the catfish in the inner tube!" Guilty as charged. I showed him the scar on my thumb as proof.

The first year Carol and I were married we had a little Yukon Delta houseboat slipped at Finley Marina on Lake Shelbyville. We would spend weekends on it. On this particular weekend we had my two oldest kids, Samantha and Matt with us. We had driven the boat around all day then selected a shoreline to moor off on for the night. Just before dark I attached a trot line to the boat and paddling to the shore with the other end I tied it off and baited each of the dozen or so hooks on the way back.

Then the next morning, bright and early, I lowered myself into the cool water and paddled to where I had tied off the line onto a tree. Carol and kids gathered on the back deck to watch. I was hoping for breakfast. I thought nothing could be more fun for the kids than to learn about cooking fresh caught fish right from lake to pan. I gently tugged on the line and it seemed to be snagged on something and I thought just my luck. I untied the line and began to pull myself along checking each empty hook as they came up. Toward the middle it was snagged. I pulled on it. Still snagged. I gave it as hard a yank as I could because the yanking did little more than move the inner tube around on the water. This time the snag moved. Then the snag began to swim away. I've got something I yelled. Hand over hand I was bringing the snag closer and closer. It was a good thing I still had the other end tied to the boat or I would be dragged across the lake. Finally the snag hit the surface. Yep, ten pound catfish. That's when the thrashing, the yelling and the shouted encouragement from the boat began.

So there I was, trying to one arm paddle to the boat when the catfish - have I mentioned that catfish have spikes that stick out both sides of the heads - punctured the inner tube. The catfish smiled. I was going down to his neck of the woods.

I yelled, pull me in, pull me in! Carol started pulling, the kids watching excitedly. In the nick of time I got close enough to the boat to heave the catfish onto the back deck where it thrashed wildly. Samantha went up the latter, Carol and Matt jumped into the water. The fish owned the boat.

Have you ever caught a catfish while in an inner tube with only a piece of string and a hook?

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

My Free Spa

Have I ever told you about my free spa?

It started this way; a good friend had a spa he didn't want. A nice sized hot tub - I said sure, what's not to want. The first problem was getting it from his place way up north to my place at least ten miles or more south. So here we are, him and I and two or three bright and energetic friends standing around and determining how to first get it out of the yard, then on a truck then into my back yard. I had measured my gate so we measured the spa. Too wide. One of these friends has two big sons. I'm talking big. We're thinking we'll horse it out but after trying to lift a corner that plan was shelved. So now we're thinking a crane to back up to the other side of the block fence and pick it straight up. That sounded good, but where does one get a crane? Finally, with nothing resolved we all went home where I called some spa stores and found a guy that delivered spas. Great! I called him and was astonished at the low price he quoted. I gave him my friends address and my address and tried to explain what I saw as the great difficulties he would have. He politely didn't comment.

Finally the day came for the spa to be delivered. An old beat up flat bed truck pulls up in front of the house. A short middle aged Mexican comes to the door. Here's your spa sir. I watched with amazement as he, a skinny teenager and an old man - at least seventy - lift the spa off the truck, carried it into the back yard and set it into position. A short Mexican, a teenage boy and and old man. Not a crane in sight. I guess I had forgotten to tell them how heavy it was.

Now I need to plug it in. I called an electrician. My house is old. It won't support the spa. I need a whole new electrical panel and lines run to the spa. A few thousand later the electrical is in but one of the motors doesn't work. Another five hundred.

Glory be, we finally got all the ducks in order and Carol and I fell into our glorious new free spa for only four thousand three hundred and twenty two dollars.

Now the timer doesn't work.

Would anyone like a free spa?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Richard's Last Day

I was thinking of my high school best friend Richard Dunn lately.

The last year of his life Richard's mantra was "It sucks to be me". And it did. Two years earlier Richard was diagnosed with a terminal cancer. Not a normal one. As in all things, Richard had to be different. His cancer slowly and painfully consumed the human body. Inch by inch, piece by piece. Of course he ran through the battery of conventional treatment and then a battery of non conventional treatment. All through it his manner stayed upbeat and when we would meet for lunch his smile was as big as ever. He actually embarrassed me once at a Soup or Salad. Having spent a long time in the insurance industry I had made a couple of suggestions as to how to end up owing the hospital less money. It must have worked because when I walked into the Soup or Salad he fell to his knee and began bowing to me. He was never embarrassed. Not that I ever saw.

I loved the way he would tell a joke. He never made it to the punch line. He would get so tickled at the joke that he would be helpless with laughter before he could finish it.

He loved the theater. So on his last day - the day he told me to not make any plans about him past that day - Carol and I drove to Sun City and picked he and his wife Edie up and drove them to the Palm Theater in Mesa. I had to physically lift him in and out of the car. Upbeat all the way he talked on and on about his favorite musicals. They have a buffet brunch at the Palm Theater and we ate and watched a very good presentation of Miss Saigon. At the intermission he had to go to the bathroom. With his arm over my shoulder we made it to the men's room and I literally had to hold him at the urinal so he could do his business. He said we had never been quite that close in high school.

At the end of the program we drove back to his daughters house so I didn't have to go all the way to Sun City. His daughter was going to spend his last night with him. I got him into her car in the passenger seat and he rolled the window down. I took his hand and he told me he loved me. He began to cry and kissed my hand. I was too stupid to know what to do. I kissed the top of his head and got out of there.

That night he mixed a lethal cocktail and went to bed. His daughter called me early the next morning to tell me he was gone.

I've been thinking of my friend Richard lately.

Friday, February 19, 2010

The Blanket Thief

Carol has decided to paint the bedroom. This sounds simple. Get out the rollers and brushes, go buy some paint and away you go. Pretty easy. Oh, you don't know Carol. See, first you pick out special paint, the kind that has a special finish and because it has a special finish it takes several coats and then of course we don't want the walls all one color. Different walls, different colors. And of course the other colors are special too. Special colors, many coats. And while we are at it, it's really inconvenient having the electrical outlet directly behind the king sized bed with the thousand pound headboard that requires a crane to move so while we are at it (the most expensive words a husband will ever hear) let's have our good friend Bill Newman Sr come in and move the electrical so we have outlets on each side of the bed and of course that wall has already been painted and so now there is a big ugly strip of drywall repair where we had to run the electrical and of course now we have to sand it down and then it will require at least three coats and where I'm going with this is.....

What I thought was going to be a couple days is now a couple of weeks and we moved into the guest bedroom which has a very nice queen sized bed all our guests liked very much as they slept......alone.

I'm a rambler when I sleep. The king bed was necessary for our marriage. So, for the last two weeks I awaken every morning to vehement accusations of being a &*%$$# blanket thief. Charm hasn't been working.

We are extremely busy at Weed King because of the influx of weeds so my blogging will be spotty. Don't give up on me.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Mark Twain didn't think much of Congress

We went to see Hal Holbrook in his one man show "Mark Twain Tonight". I first saw him in the Seventies. He was a young man playing an old man. Now he is an old man (84) playing a man in his seventies. Truly an American iconic performance. All of his routine is based on the actual writings and sayings of Mark Twain. What he had to say about Congress in the 1800's still rings true today.

"Suppose you were an idiot? And, suppose you were in congress - oh, I repeat myself."

Not much has changed. I saw in the paper last week that the four (maybe five) biggest health insurance companies in the US enjoyed last quarter profits of over $55 billion dollars. Billion with a B.

I saw in todays paper that individual health insurance premiums are going to continue to skyrocket.

Health care reform lies fallow in a Congress more consumed by polarity and the ideal of doing anything for re-election and the dominance of their particular party than doing work for the American people.

One fellow said we should scrap everything done so far and start over. He's smart enough to know that what he is really saying is kill it. If it is killed now, it will be dead for a long, long time. What we need is some smart people to put together what's best for the American people and for Congress to realize that we can't abide much more in the way of extravagant profits and skyrocketing premiums. But, like Mark Twain, I don't hold much hope for those combatants in Congress to come together. In my lifetime I've never seen such a divided Congress. Even Ronald Reagan and Tip O'Neil came together many times to get stuff done.

Think about this. The Democrats need a super majority to get anything done because the Republicans are united in "NO". The Republicans will make gains in Congress this next election making the opportunity for progress even more remote. Then, maybe, in the next election the Republicans will gain the majority in Congress. Now it will be the Democrats turn to say "NO". Now the Republicans will need a super majority and a Republican President. This could go on forever. Something and someone has to change.

For our sake.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Valentine for CJ

When the rising tides of sunami
rush against my frail and temporal body
I will stand firm with feet planted in
the foundation of you

When the hordes of Mongols rise over the plains
screaming their obscene threats and
brandishing their murderous arms
I will stand with joy and anticipation with
with the double edged sharpened sword
of my love for you

As the howling, punishing winds of the hurricane
topple trees and disembowel dwellings and toss luxury yachts
deep into the emerald blue of roiling sea water
and the greatest of the great fish swim furiously for the bottom
I will swim resolutely to you and hold you against the wind

As the telephone rings just one more time and you are
worn and tired and at the end of your day
and it is almost all you have to even think of another one
I will don my headset and take that call
that is the depth of my love

Thursday, February 11, 2010

How It's Done - 3

This is the third post on this project.

The continuing saga of my western painting is slowly moving forward. Carol and I used to never miss the Cowboy Artists of American exhibit at the Phoenix Art Museum. Ever since I was a child in Missouri I was fascinated by the American Indians and how they lived in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Historian Shelby Foote once said that "the Civil War gave America its character, but the American West gave it its personality." If you know me you know how I like the west and westerns. So follows the natural progression to attempt a painting with a western theme. My first choice was an Indian setting but I couldn't find anything that inspired me so I turned to cattle drives and after going through a hundred pictures my painting came together. You may start to notice that I'm using some dramatic back light as witnessed by the light on the rider and horse. Because of this there will be dramatic shadows also so much of the cattle will be in the shade.

In order to see the start of this project you may have to scroll to the bottom of the page and click on "older blogs". As you see in this latest I've start blocking in the cattle. This will take some time so I may not have an update for a while.

Do Good.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

An Excerpt

This excerpt takes place over half way into the story. Our hero, Jack, is being driven downtown Phoenix by Cassy, the beautiful girl he has met at the Sundown Corral, accompanied by her young son Tommy and his pet beagle Mercutio. All of a sudden Jack spies the Phoenix Art Museum. Having come from more humble origins, Cassy has never been in a museum.

Jack leaned down to watch the passing skyscrapers out the top of the windshield, “There’s not very many buildings downtown is there?” he said. She didn’t say anything. “Not like Boston or New York,” he added.
“Enough for me,” she said defensively. Jack was surprised by her tone.
“I like it, though,” he said hurriedly. “I like it better.” She didn’t answer. They rode in silence, Jack studying the passing buildings and people. Suddenly he yelped, “Hey is that the Art Museum we just passed?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
Jack twisted around in his seat, “Yeah, that says it’s the Art Museum, have you ever been been to the Art Museum?”
Cassy shook her head.
“Really,” Jack said, surprised.
“Yes really,” she said, again with the tone.
“Let’s go look at it. I’ll bet they have some neat stuff, huh Tommy. You want to go look at it?”
Tommy looked at Cassy, “Do you Mommy?”
Cassy shrugged, “Sure, I guess so, I gotta turn around.” She turned on her signal and pulled into the left turn lane. “I don’t know much about paintings and stuff,” she said.
“You don’t need to know anything, except what you like and what you don’t like,” Jack said excited now at the prospect of going through the museum with her.
She did a small U-turn and drove back to the Museum. She parked in the side lot and turned off the engine. Jack opened the door but Cassy didn’t get out. She turned and looked at him, “Me and Tommy ain’t never been to Boston or New York and we don’t know nothin’ about art!”
“That’s okay,” Jack said, not quite understanding.
“You better not make us feel stupid in here,” she said, her eyes fixed on him.
Jack laughed nervously, “I promise! I couldn’t make you feel stupid even if I wanted to. No one can make you feel anything you don’t want to feel. Only you can do that.”
“You sound just like the Old Man,” she said opening the door and sliding out.
Much to his objection, they put Mercutio in the cab with the doors locked and the windows cracked enough to allow air in. They could still hear him howling as they went into the building.
It was cool and dark and very quiet inside. Two jacketed attendants stood quietly to the side. There was a woman behind a desk across the entry way. She smiled invitingly at them. No one else was around. A sign behind the woman explained the fees for admittance. Jack dug in his pocket and withdrew some crumpled bills.
“I’ve got money,” Cassy said.
“Be my treat,” Jack said seeing he had just enough to cover them. Tommy craned his head around with curiosity while Jack paid and received the tickets. “Any special exhibits today?” Jack asked the woman.
The lady smiled, “There’s a C.S. Fly exhibit on the second floor.”
Jack frowned, “I don’t believe I know him,” he said.
“You don’t know C. S. Fly?” Cassy asked with mock seriousness.
“No I don’t. I guess my trolley doesn’t make every stop,” Jack laughed. “Do you want to tell me?”
“I wouldn’t want to stop this lady from doing her job,” Cassy grinned.
The lady’s smile had remained in place as her eyes went from one to the other, “Well,” she said when they both looked back to her, “C.S. Fly was a prominent Arizona photographer in the late 1800”s. He had a studio in Tombstone right next to the OK Corral, but was best known for his amazing photographs of our indigenous peoples.”
“Indigenous,” Cassy said.
“Indians,” Jack said.
“They got Indians here?” Tommy asked.
“Right upstairs,” Jack said. He nodded to the lady, “Thank you Ma’am.”
“Thank the lady, Tommy,” Cassy said.
“Thank you Ma’am,” Tommy said copying Jack. He reached up and took Jack’s hand. Cassy smiled. With Jack and Tommy leading the way they started into the museum. They worked their way down the hallway, occasionally pausing and looking at pieces on the wall. Most of them were very old landscapes and portraits. There was one of the Gilbert Stuart copies of George Washington.
“Looks like a dollar bill,” Cassy said.
“Just like,” Jack agreed, but didn’t say more.
They moved into a room that showcased oriental art. It was filled with glass cases full of vases and dining ware. A mannequin stood behind a tall glass case sporting a kimono and a coal black geisha wig with long wooden hair pins in it. Cassy studied it a long time. Jack and Tommy waited patiently by the door, ready to move on.
“Why would anybody wear something like that?” she finally said.
“That was their culture,” Jack explained.
“Well, I wouldn’t wear it,” she said moving by them without a backward glance.
They found the stairs and climbed to the second floor. They passed through a long hallway sporting seventeenth century portraits with half the women clothed in lavish gowns and the other half either nude or partially so.
“Why are all these women fat,” Cassy asked.
Jack chuckled, “It was the fashion of the day. Back then a plump woman was considered very beautiful.”
“Wish it was the fashion now,” Cassy said. “I’d just eat like a horse.”
“Mommy!” Tommy whispered. “You can see their boobies.”
Jack choked back a laugh.
“Yeah, Jack,” Cassy said accusingly. “Why’d you bring my son in here anyway?”
Jack leaned over and whispered to Tommy, “A gentleman pretends not to notice. We’re just supposed to nod very appreciatively, and judge it only as a work of art.”
Tommy studied the nudes another moment, looked at Jack then skipped on ahead.
“Works of art, my ass,” Cassy said softly. “You’re just like every other man, you just want to look at a naked woman.”
“My cover as an intellectual snob is blown,” Jack said. “I’m just here for the boobies!”
Cassy laughed out loud. She reached out and took his arm and gave him a warm squeeze completely unaware of her breast pressing against the back of his arm. Jack covered her hand with his and squeezed it in return. He felt a warm flush run through him.
Cassy released his arm. They turned and followed Tommy down the hall. Cassy looked at the other pieces but Jack could tell they didn’t interest her.
Entering a room several feet ahead, Tommy stopped dead in his tracks then turned excitedly back to them. “Mommy, Indians!” he exclaimed.
“Indigenous,” Cassy said.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


This will be short. It is by way of a warning. I have become increasingly interested in what was called by my website guru Internet 201. This was his way of describing the rapidly increasing world of blogs and website sales, on line literature and business networking with tools such as facebook and etc.

Another friend, who believe it or not, reads this blog regularly, led me to some other blogs that advocate online publishing and promotion of intellectual properties. No, don't let that term throw you off when thinking of me. As most of you that read this know I have a website to egotistically showcase my paintings, music and novels. At the influence of some of these other blogs I have been led to I am going to post excerpts of one of my novels on this blog. If this generates interest by anyone they can go to the website and read the darn thing. So, by way of warning, tomorrow I will post a synopsis and maybe a few pages. I can tell how many folk have visited this blog so when I see zero, I will have learned what I need to know.

Don't say you weren't warned.

Monday, February 8, 2010


I have to search very hard in my memory banks to find the last time I actually worked. For twenty years I was an insurance agent and everyone knows that insurance people never have to work and have money coming out their ears. Customers lining up to throw money their way. When I retired from that Weed King was already six years in so when I started showing up in the office Carol found things for me to do that would keep me out of her hair and out of trouble. For the last five years Amanda has worked in the office taking care of everything that Carol didn't so again, I had little to do but ask invasive questions and second guess conversations they were having with customers.

Then a terrible thing happened. Amanda moved on to bigger and better things. And, with the economy in the tank and business down we decided not to replace her. I'll step up, I said valiantly. Holy crap! The rains came and the phone is off the hook and I can't get the data base updated with one phone call before I have another and another one leaving a nasty message because they couldn't get through to us and people calling for the first time and I have to explain what we do and one guy wants us to send him a bill on January first every year no matter when we treat him and there are e-mails to pick up and invoices to cut and bills to be paid and the dog is whining at the back door and a salesman is at the front door and a guy leaving a message that says he's left six previous messages and wants to know what the hell kinda company are we anyway and to top it all off I'm supposed to go to art class on Wednesday and Carol just looks at me, and..................

And to the guy that left the obscene rap about wanting some weed. Cool man. I'm going to put it on as my answering message. That's what kind of company we are!

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

The Average Boy goes to the movies

The Academy award nominations came out yesterday. Carol and I are big movie buffs but unfortunately we don't get to as many as I would like. Of the ten movies nominated for best picture we have only seen four. I'll give you my take on those four.

Avatar - Most of my friends including myself want to go see the movie again. In 3D. That's the important part. I'm not sure I'd revisit it in the theaters unless I see it in 3D. It's worth another look to ride those dang dragons again. As far as screenplay or acting - nothing exceptional. Just great effects.

The Blind Side - This is a Sandra Bullock movie. She makes the movie. I know this sounds like a tired old sports premise and frankly the only reason I went was because Carol wanted to see it. It may be a tired old sports premise but it was the best of its kind. Thoroughly entertaining.

Inglorious Basterds - All I can say is Quentin Tarintino. A completely fictitious take on WW2 with lots of blood, gore and over the top humor. I loved Brad Pitt's character. Entertaining and worth the price of the ticket. Best movie? Not so much but probably a shoo in for Best Supporting Actor for the guy that played the kind of Nazi nasty you love to hate.

Up in the Air - This movie has received a lot of praise and it was very enjoyable. George Clooney can seem to do no wrong. Both of the young ladies in supporting rolls are nominated for Best Supporting Actress and both were really, really good. Probably going to lose to Monique in "Precious". I haven't seen that one but my gut tells me Monique will win. I really enjoyed Up in the Air but it wasn't one of those that I woke up thinking about the next day.

As for the ones I haven't seen the ones I want to see are: An Education and The Hurt Locker. The others don't appeal much.

Here's a pitch for Harkins Theaters. You buy a large drink for under $5 in their refillable cup and bring it with you each time you go to the movies and they refill it for $1. Better yet, buy a Harkins T-shirt for $20 and show it to them each visit and get a free popcorn which can be upgraded to the next size for only $1. For us penny pincher's that love movies it's a great deal. Carol and I go to the matinee with a drink and large popcorn for $17. $15 if we don't upgrade the popcorn. Go more than four times a year and you are in the money.

Gone for the week, be back next Monday.

Do Good!

Monday, February 1, 2010

A Musician's Prayer

I wasn't going to comment on this but I can't help it. The grammy's were on TV last night. Carol and I watched something else. I have been fortunate enough to have lived through sixty years of American music and a lot of it was great. But, not lately. No, no don't give me that stuff. It's not because I'm an old curmudgeon. I have been a musician since the early seventies. I have a good ear. I can watch and listen to a production and immediately pick out the good and the bad parts. I understand completely that one man's music is another man's noise but by and large I can enjoy and appreciate all kinds of music. I grew up listening to the big band sounds and was in my impressionable years during the era of the crooner. I was in the fifth grade when Elvis stormed the Ed Sullivan Show. I was in high school when the Beatles and the Stones hit shore. The sixties and seventies, long hair, drugs, psychedelic rock, are you going to San Francisco? Motown and bebop and Sam Cooke, and then Springsteen and the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac and BB King and Eric Clapton, Michael Jackson, Andrea Bocelli and on and on and on. I know good music.

I didn't watch the Grammy's so I can't say there wasn't any good music on. There might have been. But, it's lonely. It needs a friend. I did listen to radio reports that played excerpts of the songs that won the big prizes. Beyonce, very talented. If you want to dance she's your girl. If you want to listen, not so much. Best thing she's done is the old Etta James ballad in the movie Cadillac Records. Youtube it, it's great. But not new. And Taylor Swift. Oh my! Good music is lonely. It needs a friend. Somebody please help. I know we've been brainwashed into believing this stuff is good. Everyone in the audience claps along. Help us Oh God to stand on talent again. Some where in a garage, Oh Lord, is a music saviour. Send this saviour out Oh Lord, the world is in desparate need. Please one last good song before my time is up. One tune that will last in my head after it is over. One tune that I can hum. One tune that will make me stop everything to listen. Just one tune Oh Lord. Just one.

It's Official

Okay, Amanda has personally told all 400 of her best friends so I have permission to announce that her and Lance are with child and the baby is expected in mid-September. Needless to say, Carol and I are ecstatic. I agree with my friend Curt Johnson who stated that Carol doesn't look like a grandmother. Amen to that. I, on the other hand......

I will not be a first time grandfather. My oldest daughter, Samantha has three lovely girls, Alexandria, Rachel and Zoe and live in Monticello Illinois. An unfortunate distance away. But, Amanda is quite a bit younger than her sister so this makes me feel like an old grandpa. The good news is that I'll be 77 when the kid becomes a teenager and everyone knows that 77 year old men are borderline senile and can't be blamed for slapping people.