Monthly Archives: December 2012

Seasons Greetings from a couple of Great Guys

I am a big fan of pretty much anything that makes me laugh. These two guys have some really hilarious stuff. I have them in my Likes section on Facebook, but I decided to mention them here too. They have their own website and they can be found on Youtube. The two videos I link to here are seasonal, I would be hard pressed to rank them in order of preference. Most of them are short, but good things can come in small packages.

And the smaller package

I could write some BS about attributing quotes and citing references, but I’d probably have to copy it. I could say something old fashioned and date myself, but that would be pointless since I can already have sex with myself and don’t have to go through the rigamaroll of dating. TMI on that, but I suppose I should mention the name of their website. Greg and Lou present Lou and Greg. Hopefully the links work.


A Stick, A Stick, My Kingdom for a stick

Actually a stick wouldn’t have done me any good because of the crook in the neck.

Yes, I choose my words carefully.

Monday night on my way home from work I did something I had only done once before and that was in December 1981. I ran out of gas. My gas gauge sticks on full, but when I get down to half it usually starts working and reads correctly then. Not this time. I get off work a little past midnight, it was 14 degrees out, not a soul on the road. And I don’t own a cellphone. I was a mile and a half from home. I start walking and discover, my jacket has a broken zipper. I do most of my posting and reading on the weekend, and I had intended to title this, “I didn’t die! I made it! I did have my doubts.” I changed my mind after Friday’s news. I didn’t want anybody jumping to the conclusion that I was making light of that.

At work we used to have our own gas pumps and underground tanks. The way you check them to see how much is left is to use a long stick. We no longer have the tanks, but we do still have the stick. And you use a dip stick to check oil, tranny fluid {that’s always fun}, power steering fluid, etc. Gasoline you rely on a float system and they make the tanks with a bend in the neck to prevent you from using a stick.

I think of the movie Club Paradise when I think of the line about not dying. Joe Flaherty is a pilot in that movie. After he lands he does a little dance, kisses the ground, and generally inspires confidence.

Not only do I not have a stick, I don’t have a kingdom either. So the offer is null and void. I plan on buying gas regardless of my gauge so that I won’t be null and void too.


Turnip Dreams and Other Things

A curious juxtaposition has occurred. I was talking on the phone to my friend AB, and she has had some problems with her foot lately. She has an ulcer on her heel and one of her toes has swelled to about double in size and turned purple on one side. People have been on her case to go back to the Doctor. They told her to quit smoking. While I can’t really call that bad advice I do doubt the efficacy of treating her foot that way. After much badgering she went back, and they put her on antibiotics. I can’t remember which ones but one made her sick and the other didn’t seem to do much at all. I do remember, actually she reminded me, then I remembered, the other one was the same one they used to treat Anthrax back in 01. She has also been having nightmares about her foot being infested with maggots or worms. Where am I going with this? Well, Mrs Fever mentioned turnips in a reply to one of my comments. That didn’t clear things up? Okay, I was put on a weight loss drug back in 08 and it caused nightmares for me. I wrote a blog about it 7-19-2008, I’ll copy and paste and all will be made clear.

I can only remember one that could be described as a nightmare. I was at my mom’s house. There was a very large turnip in the yard. The top of the root was over a foot thick, purple on top white at dirt level with large green leaves on top. I asked ma how long it had been there. She said it wasn’t there when she went to bed. I went out to look at it. While I was looking at it my cuff touched a leaf. Instantly there was the pain of needles going into my ankle. My leg went numb and I fell down and screamed. I could fell my leg going from flesh to something solid. Friends neighbors and relatives came running. I yelled for them to pull me away. They tried, but there was a tendril with the leaf. It wouldn’t give. Someone grabbed an axe and chopped the tendril leaving about six inches attached to my ankle. I could feel a solidness spreading from the tendril up my leg. I asked them to take me further away from the turnip. The further away I was the slower the spreading was. I told everyone this. A couple of them came back with shotguns and started shooting the turnip. At first the spreading seemed to slightly recede. Then the bits of turnip that had been blown off took root. Now the were more than a dozen rapidly growing turnips in the yard. Someone else left and came back with a flame thrower. They started burning the turnips and the pain began leaving my leg. The tendril that they had been unable to pull off, fell off of its own accord as the last turnip burned. Then I woke up.

Most of the dreams aren’t as dramatic as that, but odd any way. I went someplace to buy a half a ton of sand. I told them I didn’t have a truck. They said no problem I could borrow that one. They pointed to one out the window. I thought great. They loaded up the sand and I got in the truck. I immediately noticed that this truck had no engine. It was human powered through gears and bike pedals. This dream had some extreme time compression. I had looked at the clock before I fell asleep, I looked at the clock when I woke up to see just how long I had slept. In the dream, I picked up the sand in the morning. I argued with them about the truck. I was stuck with it. Eventually I tried pedaling it and the gears made it possible to move the truck. It was just extremely slow. It was nightfall when I finally gave up. Exhausted and sweaty I got out of the truck and walked away. I had made it about a mile. Then I woke up. In reality, that dream lasted only between 20 and 25 minutes.

One of the key features of dreams or nightmares is that the dreamer buys into whatever is going on no matter how impossible or odd. The exception is lucid dreaming, when you begin to realize that it is a dream and you are asleep. That doesn’t happen very often with nightmares, if it did they wouldn’t be nightmares.

If one is being attacked by vegetables, and one’s neighbors help by using flamethrowers, I think one could be considered insane. The really bad part about the second dream is that when I woke up I had to go to work and I felt as tired as if I had just finished working a very long day.

AB is fond of using the word segue. It does have a certain two-wheeledness about it. We can actually follow each others reasoning patterns. Scary huh?


Commandos and WMDs

The other day I saw {and shared with any relevant women that I know about} a cute post on Facebook. It said, “Women who don’t wear underwear can’t get their panties in a bunch.” I did add my own comment, if they’re English they can’t get their knickers in a twist. I’m a bit of an Anglophile, gotta love them Britcoms.

WMDs you ask? Weapons of Mass Delight.


Headways and Tailwinds

I think I finally got a photo to stick when I post comments. I’m starting to get a little better with the dashboard. Now I just need to figure out how to find people. I can find the ones that comment to me. It reminds me of a show I saw back in the 60’s. It was kind of an artsy type show and there was one episode called the cube. This person was stuck in a cube and couldn’t find a way out. People would come in and talk to him, but they would leave just as mysteriously. It might have inspired a movie called hypercube that came out a few years ago.

I think I’ve got two photos here now. One is from 88 and shows me with Gov Branstadt. I consider myself a liberal democrat. I use that photo because he is a Republican and it confuses both extremes seeing us together. The other was taken in 84 and shows me and another guy messing with lasers. It was part of a brochure advertising the Physics Department at UNI. I’m the guy in front. If you’re curious about how I look now, I’m twice as heavy and the beard is gray now. The hair is still dark but a lot thinner.

Actually, that brings up a point about why I don’t mind my hair getting thinner. One time I was talking with my aunt and I commented about the males in my dad’s side dying young. She corrected me. There were lots of them that lived to ripe old ages in their 90s. She showed me pictures. I noticed immediately that all the men that went bald died old. Those that went grey died young. It’s enough to make you pull your hair out.

Hm, spellcheck didn’t correct either spelling of that hair color. I suppose it might be considered white-ish. How many white people can actually trace their lineage back to the Caucasus Mountains?


Don’t Play With Your Food And Remember You Are What You Eat

So eat your chicken livers and lay off the ugli fruit and sour grapes.

I used to have a brother-in-law that owned a farm, he passed away a number of years ago, but I spent some of my summers on the farm. I learned a few things. Cows are really really stupid but they are pretty docile. Chickens and turkeys are also very stupid, ducks are not so docile and at least the domestic ones will attack for almost no reason. The attack is noisy and consists of wing flapping, quacking and pecking. Not all that dangerous but startling enough to intimidate dogs and cats that have never seen it before. Horse sense doesn’t impress me, but a smart ass does. Donkeys are fairly clever. But they have an attitude. In addition to 1984 George Orwell also wrote “Animal Farm.” In it he put the pigs in charge. That part is correct. I think the pigs are the smartest animals on the farm. They also have an attitude, and they’re mean. My BIL only had pigs one year. I think he got fed up with them. That was one summer I was on the farm. He and my sister both worked in town, and I would stay out on the farm and watch the kids. I did a few chore with the animals, I would turn the pumps on to refresh the water in their tanks, I made sure they had food. That was about it. One day the pigs figured out how to get out of their pen. When my BIL got home the pigs were wandering around the farm. We got them back in their pen. The next day they not only got out of their pen, they got into the chickens pen. I was picking up my BIL and sis when they got out. You know how cats will “Play” with a mouse or other small animal, pigs play rough. We got home and there was blood and feathers all over the place. My BIL had a bit of a temper and was cussing up a storm while getting the pigs back in their pen. Then he went and got a chain, wrapped it around the gate and fencepost and used a clip like one on a dog collar to close the chain. There was a chain on the pigpen and another on the chicken coop. The next day as we were putting the pigs back in their pen again, my BIL was really pissed. He went into the tool shed and came out with two combination locks. As he was cussing them out he also told them that if they figured out how to get out with padlocks on the gate they were going to go to market. They didn’t pay him no mind. They didn’t understand English and wouldn’t have cared if they did. It took about three or four days, but we came home to carnage again. I thought the veins in my BIL’s neck were going to explode. No, they didn’t figure out how to unlock the locks. They dug a hole under the gate. My BIL kept his word and they went to market. I think I saw him smile every time we had ham or bacon after that. It was kind of like winning an argument and having the last word. HA! I Win! You’re Food! One of the hazards of playing with your food is that it might be smarter.

That happened when I was 16. I remember it like yesterday.


The Exigencies of Life

You’re born, you live, then you die. What could be simpler?


And what exactly is needed?

That depends, actually very little is needed to accomplish being born, living and dying. It can all be done in very short order. Being happy might take a bit longer. A great Dane said, “Aye, there’s the rub.” Shakespeare actually, but he has a great Dane say it. Victor Borge used to say that when he first arrived in the US they referred to him as a great Dane. He didn’t know how they could mistake him for a dog. Nautical BBQ enthusiasts might also say that. It is indeed the rub and the smoke that makes it taste soo good.


Being happy is an internal state. As an individual you decide how happy you are. It really isn’t the externals. You can’t buy happiness, and it isn’t even for rent. Likewise, you can’t force someone to be unhappy. That’s where people like to argue. They don’t challenge the statement about buying happiness, but they don’t accept that unhappiness is internal also. Back in the 80’s there was a guy in Iowa that killed two cops, T-Bone Taylor. He was convicted and sent to prison. Several years later a reporter for the local paper looked him up, he was in a prison in a different state. He told the reporter how much he loved prison life. He went on and on about different privileges he had. The newspaper printed it, and the letters to the editor poured in. People were pissed. A short time later the prison warden wrote a letter to the paper to let people know that this guy had lied. He never had all the privileges he claimed to have. He probably was happy though. Happy because his story had pissed off so many people. You can’t force happiness, you can’t force misery. You can do things to make either more likely, but the emotional state of someone else is not subject to others control. I’m sure parents and authority figures have run into individuals that are very difficult to punish. A child’s punishment should be an attempt to teach them safety or empathy. Don’t do that because “You’ll shoot your eye out.”, or don’t do that because you’re hurting others. If you’re dealing with a sociopath you’ll never teach empathy. And you will probably have problems with them for their {or your} whole life. The modern prison system really didn’t start until after the Civil War. In general I think it’s been a real failure. Look at the language used, Penitentiary, Reformatory. How many criminals get reformed by the system? How many criminals are penitent? I think in a lot of cases the prison serves as a school on how to be a bigger criminal. Some people do turn their life around, I think that is in spite of the system not because of it.


You can’t force someone to love you. You can’t force someone to hate you. You can’t force someone to be happy. You can’t force them to be unhappy. You can’t use the point of a gun to convert their religion. You can kill them and you can exile them, but that isn’t necessarily changing their mind. Remember what Dr House says, “Everybody lies.”


If you’re Happy and you know it, clap your hands……