Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Why Do We Fight?

I believe; ‘We fight this war there so it does not come here, to our soil, to our families, in our homes’.

My brother was in Iraq for a year. He believes this also. Believed it enough that at the age of 40, he re-enlisted with the Marines. Specifically for the reason to go there. I have had the honor to discuss this subject with many American service members, they also believe it. I have not been there, I have never met a Muslim extremist. So my opinion is based on relative experiences.

In my short time on this planet, I have had the honor to know several Muslims. 2 from Pakistan, 4 or 5 from India and another 4 or 5 from Africa (specifically Senegal). They, without exception, are wonderful people. A very strong belief in family god and their religion. They all have an honest desire to better themselves. Some were in school while working 2 jobs, a couple others are managing small businesses with a desire to open one of their own. On occasion, we have discussed this war and what it means to them. The 2 guys form Pakistan left because of the extremists and what they had done to their families for not fighting for them. All of them agreed that they (the extremists) will kill Americans because we are Americans. That included Muslim Americans, because they do not fight for them.

Without knowing your ethnicity or religion I ask, have you ever been hated for what you are? If you are black, Jewish of gay then you can say yes, I’m sure. Many Americans can not say they are or have been hated because of what they are. Not something they did, just what they are.

I’m interested in your opinion. What do you think??


Now what have I done???? Ctrl-V'd when I should have Ctrl-C'd

EDIT: 8:25 AM - Fixed the FU, now to put the BlogRoll back....

EDIT 9:10 AM - BlogRoll fixed??? something still slooks funky... Better get some 'real' work done.

EDIT 11:49 PM - Thanks for your help Freddie and Dazd.

Back to the Rock Quarry

I hate going back to work after a vacation. I've been off since last Tuesday, 7 days (3 work days). Nobody really does what I do, no one works for me and my boss is 200 miles away, so I'll have a weeks work to catch up this week. By the time I go through all of the e-mail, sooth all of the ruffled feathers, answer all of the questions, I'll be lucky if it's lunch time. I'll be lucky if I get to read any blogs today. Gawd, I hate work!!!

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Happy Belated Thanksgiving Everyone

We took a trip to see the outlaws for turkey day. The Mrs wouldn't let us take laptops When we do we end up working, which makes for a non-vacation. So, I'm back. Missed you all greatly. I truly hope everyones Thanksgiving was wonderful and new memories were made. This is a new memory I got from this visit...

Saturday night after we'd had all of the turkey left overs we could handle. We decided to go to a little hole in the wall 'Mom n Pop' kinda place for dinner. Amongst other things on the menu they had a list of hamburgers named after the little towns around the area. One of them was named the "Beaver Burger".... OMG!!! Guess it was the mood we were in, but I about blew my pop out my nose when some one added, "Yeah, it comes with ketchup and alpha sprouts, you know the stuff that looks like hair". Then someone said "no, mayonnaise"... I had to leave the table.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Flying - Part Duex

On one of the legs of my trip I got to be on the plane nearly first. (No I don’t fly first class, my employer is too cheap or I’m not worth the cost, I like to believe it is the first.) Being first and nearly in the back of the plane I got to see everyone else as they came on board, looked for their seats, stowed their luggage, etc.

I find it absolutely amazing in a weird kinda profound discovery way, that no one makes eye contact… Why? I’m not that scary looking… (at least I think so, my wife thinks so… I think. Dazd??) Even someone that needed help finding the row numbers did not look at any other passengers. He just looked blankly at the AC knobs and asked out loud as if he expected the whistling air to tell him where his row was. Another guy whose seat was obviously behind mine stared at the back bulk head and walked, very fast for being on a plane, right past everyone, never breaking his gaze from the rear wall.

Are we that scared as a society that we cannot make eye contact with other humans? Does it seem reasonable to ask the knobs for help? Has the modern media scared us so much with ‘Next Door Neighbor has Bodies Buried in Backyard’ headlines that we trust no one?

Next time I fly, I’m gonna push the envelope a little. Everyone that is looking in my general direction is going to get a “Hi, how are you” from me… Stay posted, as of now my next trips is in January. Phoenix, AZ. If you don’t hear from me, somebody send out the search dogs.

Flying for Business

I “got” to go to Nashville, TN yesterday. Had to fly, should have driven. It’s what, 6 hours to Nashville from Indianapolis. Counting the drive from my house to the airport it was almost 8 hours to ‘fly’. And, isn’t flying fun these days. The security check, scans and puffs of air are ok. I can handle that, even an occasional pat-down. But come on, a bag of pretzels is a dollar. And I can hold the entire contents in the palm of my hand. I can also put the entire contents in my mouth. A drink (beer or shot) is $5, that’s worse than the RCA Dome. At least soft drinks are still free. God forbid should you want to eat; a cold sandwich, with an apple, chips and cookies is $10.

I fly about 6 times a year for business and have been to San Diego, New York City, San Antonio and Ottawa Canada and many place in between. But this quick little jump to Nashville (2 planes, had to layover in Memphis) had both the smoothest landing and the roughest landing I have ever had. The smooth one was cool, I’ve hit pot holes harder that they guy landed that plane. I could have slept through it. The rough one, OMG!! Have you ever been jolted so hard that your neck made a crunching noise??? Me neither, but this landing, WHAM!!! And we were on the ground, no feathering or floating and at least trying to come in smooth, just SLAM!!! Like the pilot was saying “there f’ers, you’re on the ground and alive, I’ve done my job”. You know how you can tell the pilot thinks the lading was rough, they don’t open the door to the cockpit until everyone is off the plane. Usually they are out there saying thanks with the other stewards. Not these guys that door was still locked.

I waited on the walk for about 5 minutes after everyone else was off and they still weren’t coming out, must have seen me standing out there.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Canis Domesticus

We have two. If there were every two canines that were opposites of the personality spectrum, these two have to be it. They are both working dogs, that is, they have a job in service to the public. But, like any other family where members are in public service, these two are also beloved family members.

Thinking about my morning with these ‘family members’ is unique. I believe the best way to explain what I mean is to run you through the first 15 minutes of every day.

The Characters:
Me – Me; a.k.a. Old Man
OD – Old Dog; Mutt, Humane Society adoption. He is certified with three separate agencies/organizations in his area of expertise. And working on two or three more in a separate area. He is a few days from seven years. He is white with large brown spots. OD is 55 pounds.
ND – New Dog; Pure bread Border Collie, cost us almost a grand, plus driving 16 hours one way to get her… She is still in training, but is VERY good at what she does and should be certified with the same three agencies before February. She is a few days over one year. She is brown with some white areas (her white shapes don’t qualify as spots). ND is 35 pounds.

A loud screeching noise breaks the silence and rather violently interrupts my slumber. “Damn alarm clock” as I knock the lamp off the night stand trying to find the snooze button. All the while the screeching is getting louder (they call it “gentle wake” – yea right!!! Some Chinese engineers idea of a sick joke.). Aahh , silence. Peace. Quite. Dreams… Screeching screaming noise eight minutes and fifty seconds later. Not only does it jip me out of a full ten minute snooze, but I’d swear it’s steeling precious seconds from my very required beauty sleep. “fine, I’ll get up” I mumble to my self as I grab my glasses.

OD sleeps on the floor on my side of the bed so he gives me the constant challenge to groggily get to the bathroom without stepping on him. You should try stepping over a fifty-five pound dog sprawled out between the bed and the wall. Never, keep in mind, in the same place. I’m sure it is just to keep me guessing. And God forbid should you step on some fur, he’ll be sure you’re awake with a yelp that would wake the dead. But for some reason not my wife.

Throw on some sweats and head down stairs. OD waits for me to get about 3 steps down then runs past me howl-growling “come on old man, the new kid has to pee!!” There is always a scratching noise coming from ND’s crate. ND yawning says “is it morning already”, full well knowing that I know she has been awake for hours... She is stretching and flexing her claws, scratching at the crate floor. Quite the eerie sound if you aren’t expecting it. OD grumbles “I don’t have to go, but just incase this is my only chance, I’ll go. But don’t put me out until SHE is going out” As I approach ND’s crate she starts a yawning, moaning, howling, stretching kind of audible talking. Which translates loosely to “oh jeese, it has been a long time since I saw you. I HAVE TO GO!!! Hurry…”,

I grab her leash and undo the crate door latches and swing the door open. This is where the ‘greet you’ joust starts. ND comes out of the crate at full speed and with her second step she will start bouncing. Not really a big deal but she is usually between my legs at the second step. Yep you guessed it… A great way to start the morning. My goal in the joust is to catch ND by the collar at the moment of exit from the crate. Thus curtailing her bouncing joy until I have the leash snapped on. I’m proud to say, I’m usually successful. I stand up and the bouncing resumes. Keep in mind this is a dog that is less the 20” tall, but can just about lick my face by just bouncing straight up, all in about 0.5 seconds. We head for the door and she is in scan mode (head going back and forth in a very frantic OCD kind of way) looking for a ball or Frisbee. Once sighted we must go get it and bring it to the front door. Thank God for retractable leashes or I’d most likely have rug burn or a dislocated shoulder every morning.

OD patiently watches this ballet every morning with head slightly lowered saying “come near me with that much enthusiasm pup, and we’ll go ‘round”. ND usually bounces over and hip slams OD once just for good measure. I open door and we head out. ND is either under or on top of OD by this point, never patient enough to wait a micro second and OD won’t let her be first. Before I can step out the door, ND is off the porch, down the stairs heading around the house, then BOING, she hits the end of her 24 foot leash, falls to the ground, walks back a bout two feet and does what she needs to…

OD (with his Invisible Fence collar) is around back enjoying the last few minutes of the morning peace and quiet for this day. He heads back to the front and as he approaches, ND takes on the stalking/herding pose her breed is famous for, (laying down on the ground, head down between her front paws). Once she can’t take it any more, she springs once again with the un-bounding energy of youth. IF she didn’t come back far enough she gets her neck wrung and falls to the ground, OD prances by and I’d swear he’s smiling. If ND has the leash limit in her calculations, OD get slammed again and this starts the morning “words”. A full flury of ‘jaw sparing’, wrestling and ND body slamming OD 10-15 times.

Up the stairs, on the porch and stand by the front door. Before I can get there ND will go from OD’s left side to his right side and back about 3 times. I open the door and ND is again on top of or under OD. Trying her darnedest to be in front of OD, but he always manages to stay just even or slightly in front. Once she is un-hooked she grabs the afore mentioned ball and heads upstairs to make sure my wife is up. OD heads for the stairs, turns to look at me and says “Just remember, I’m certified, I was free and I have NEVER racked you first thing in the morning”. Before I can say anything, he turns and heads upstairs to sleep on the bed until the Mrs is done in the shower and able to give him his morning belly rubs.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

A Bikers Dilemma

Do you ride? If so, what?

As you know, I ride a Harley Davidson (HD) with the PGR (Patriot Guard Riders). The bike I own is a 1983 FXR. Not that, that means much to you, but suffice it to say it is old school. No windshield, the engine is a ‘shovel head’ which is a design HD did away with in ’84. It is chain drive which HD did away with in ’84-’86. Over the course of this summers riding, it has spent about half of the time in the shop. (let the HD bashing commence). Currently is it broke and sitting in our garage. My wife, who originally wanted nothing to do with me riding and that fool bike, has actually taken a liking to it. When the bike broke last Thursday, she said, “I don’t want to be with out a bike, you should get a new one”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. But this begs the questions, what kind should I get? Stay with HD? Change to Yamaha? BMW?

What would you buy??

Monday, November 13, 2006


If I could go back to school, college that is. And focus my attention on something other than computers, I would dive head first into nanotechnology. The subject fascinates me. In nanotechnology, large devices can fit inside a hole deilled into a human hair. If I ever win the lottery and don't need an income, I'm going to volunteer to do research at MIT or CalTech in this field.
One of the news letters I subscribe to has announced a 4 day seminar on the subject and they are going to blog some of the articles. So, go here and read along with me about some of the most fascinating technology in the world.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Sunday Laughs

Rest assured, I am not this creative. These were e-mialed to me and I would give the author credit if I knew who it was. Non the less they made me laugh out loud this week.


A bus stops and 2 men get on. They sit down and engage in an animated conversation. The lady sitting next to them ignores them at first, but her attention is galvanized when she hears one of them say the following:

"Emma come first. Den I come. Den two asses come together. I come once-a-more! Two asses, they come together again. I come again and pee twice. Then I come one lasta time."

The lady can't take this any more, "You foul-mouthed sex obsessed pig," she retorted indignantly. "In this country, we don't speak aloud in public places about our sex lives."

"Hey, coola down lady," said the man. "Who talkin'abouta sex? I'm a justa tellin' my frienda how to spell "Mississippi'."

$5.00 says you're gonna read this again!


Husband's note on refrigerator for wife:

Someone from the Gyna Colleges called.
They said the Pabst beer is normal.
I didn't know you liked beer.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

An Open Letter to all US Veterans

Thank you – for your service… for assuring my freedoms.

To The Retired Vets – Your service, sacrifice and grace to a country that did not honor you… I thank you and welcome home my friends. You did what your country asked, you did what you were told, it has been too long. Thank you and welcome home!!

To Those Currently In Service – It has been my honor to have met some of you. Brave hearts, honest minds, you have thanked me for seeing you home or seeing you off. I am in your debt, you are buying my freedom. And without thought to self you keep the fight from coming to our homes, on our land.

To All Veterans, home or in service, in a VA hospital or in a tank, holding your son/daughter/wife/husband or wishing you could – God Bless You, may he keep you safe and free from harm. Know that many of us here think of you often and keep you in our prayers.

Respect - DNR

Friday, November 10, 2006

Another Hero

I went to the funeral of another hero yesterday. I have been to too many, there have been to many…

DoD Identifies Marine Casualties

The Department of Defense announced today the death of two Marines who were supporting Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Lance Cpl. James E. Brown, 20, of Owensville, Ind., died Nov. 2 while conducting combat operations in Al Anbar province, Iraq. He was assigned to 3rd Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, II Marine Expeditionary Force, Camp Lejeune, N.C.

Thursday, November 9, 2:00PM CST. Services were held at Gibson Southern High School, Hwy. 168 Gibson County, between Owensville and Ft. Branch, IN.

Patriot Guard Riders Final Itinerary - Lance Cpl. James Brown, 20, of Owensville, IN - 08, 09 Nov 06

God bless the Brown family and friends. Your service and sacrifice will not be forgotten.

Respect - DNR

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Pictures From Part Duex

Yahoo pix

Web Shots

Not 'Just' a Flag

Last night I went with 10 friends family members to see a movie, 'Flag of Our Fathers'. The movie is based on a book written by James Bradley. He is the son of John Bradley. John Bradley was one of the men that raised the flag in the famous WWII photo on Iwo Jima, he is also one of the men in the statue. I heard this story about a week ago. It cemented for me a need to see this movie.

Subject: A Story Of 6 Boys...

Each year I am hired to go to Washington , DC , with the eighth grade class from Clinton , WI . where I grew up, to videotape their trip. I greatly enjoy visiting our nation's capitol, and each year I take some special memories back with me. This fall's trip was especially memorable.

On the last night of our trip, we stopped at the Iwo Jima memorial. This memorial is the largest bronze statue in the world and depicts one of the most famous! photographs in history -- that of the six brave soldiers raising the American Flag at the top of a rocky hill on the island of Iwo Jima, Japan, during WW II.

Over one hundred students and chaperones piled off the buses and headed towards the memorial. I noticed a solitary figure at the base of the statue, and as I got closer he asked, "Where are you guys from?"

I told him that we were from Wisconsin . "Hey, I'm a cheese head, too! Come gather around, Cheese heads, and I will tell you a story."

(James Bradley just happened to be in Washington , DC , to speak at the memorial the following day. He was there that night to say good night to his dad, who has since passed away. He was just about to leave when he saw the buses pull up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us, and received his permission to share what he said from my videotape. It is one thing to tour the incredible Monuments filled with history in Washington , D.C. , but it is quite another to get the kind of insight we received that night.)

When all had gathered around, he reverently began to speak. (Here are his words that night.)

"My name is James Bradley and I'm from Antigo, Wisconsin . My dad is on that statue, and I just wrote a book called "Flags of Our Fathers". It is the story of the six boys you see behind me. "Six boys raised the flag. The first guy putting the pole in the ground is Harlon Block. Harlon was an all-state football player. He enlisted in the Marine Corps with all the senior members of his football team. They were off to play another type of game. A game called "War." But it didn't turn out to be a game.

Harlon, at the age of 21, died with his intestines in his hands. I don't say that to gross you out, I say that because there are generals who stand in front of this statue and talk about the glory of war. You guys need to know that most of the boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and 19 years old.

(He pointed to the statue) "You see this next guy? That's Rene Gagnon from New Hampshire If you took Rene's helmet off at the moment this photo was taken and looked in the webbing of that helmet, you would find a photograph... a photograph of his girlfriend. Rene put that in there for protection because he was scared. He was 18 years old. Boys won the battle of Iwo Jima . Boys. Not old men.

"The next guy here, the third guy in this tableau, was Sergeant Mike Strank. Mike is my hero. He was the hero of all these guys. They called him the "old man" because he was so old. He was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys in training camp, he didn't say, 'Let's go kill some Japanese' or 'Let's die for our country.' He knew he was talking to little boys. Instead he would say, 'You do what I say, and I'll get you home to your mothers.'

"The last guy on this side of the statue is Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian from Arizona Ira Hayes walked off Iwo Jima He went into the White House with my dad. President Truman told him, 'You're a hero.' He told reporters, 'How can I feel like a hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and only 27 of us walked off alive?' So you take your class at school, 250 of you spending a year together having fun, doing everything together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach, but only 27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was Ira Hayes. He had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes died dead drunk, face down at the age of 32 .. ten years after this picture was taken.

"The next guy, going around the statue, is Franklin Sousley from Hilltop, Kentucky . A fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. His best friend, who is now 70, told me, 'Yeah, you know, we took two cows up on the porch of the Hilltop General Store. Then we strung wire across the stairs so the cows couldn't get down. Then we fed them Epsom salts. Yes, he was a fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. Franklin died on Iwo Jima at the age of 19. When the telegram came to tell his mother that he was dead, it went to the Hilltop General Store. A barefoot boy ran that telegram up to his mother's farm. The neighbors could hear her scream all night and into the morning. The neighbors lived a quarter of a mile away.

"The next guy, as we continue to go around the statue, is my dad, John Bradley from Antigo, Wisconsin , where I was raised. My dad lived until 1994, but he would never give interviews. When Walter Cronkite's producers, or the New York Times would call, we were trained as little kids to say, 'No, I'm sorry, sir, my dad's not here. He is in Canada fishing. No, there is no phone there, sir. No, we don't know when he is coming back.' My dad never fished or even went to Canada Usually, he was sitting there right at the table eating his Campbell 's soup. But we had to tell the press that he was out fishing. He didn't want to talk to the press.

"You see, my dad didn't see himself as a hero. Everyone thinks these guys are heroes, 'cause they are in a photo and on a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic. John Bradley from Wisconsin was a caregiver. In Iwo Jima he probably held over 200 boys as they died. And when boys died in Iwo Jima , they writhed and screamed in pain.

"When I was a little boy, my third grade teacher told me that my dad was a hero. When I went home and told my dad that, he looked at me and said, 'I want you always to remember that the heroes of Iwo Jima are the guys who did not come back. Did NOT come back.'
"So that's the story about six nice young boys. Three died on Iwo Jima , and three came back as national heroes. Overall, 7,000 boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in the history of the Marine Corps. My voice is giving out, so I will end here. Thank you for your time."

Suddenly, the monument wasn't just a big old piece of metal with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life before our eyes with the heartfelt words of a son who did indeed have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the reasons most people would believe, but a hero nonetheless.

Let us never forget from the Revolutionary War to the current War on Terrorism and all the wars in-between that sacrifice was made for our freedom. Remember to pray praises for this great country of ours and also pray for those still in murderous unrest around the world. STOP and thank God for being alive and being free at someone else's sacrifice. REMINDER: Everyday that you can wake up free, it's going to be a great day. You are free because some vet died to keep you free.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Flags R Us - My Weekend Part Deux

I built flags this weekend. As you may (or may not) know, I am an active member of the Patriot Guard Riders. One of our members bought and donated 324 American flags for use around the state.

Other members of the group had their work places or suppliers donate some of the materials needed. Think about this, to offer a uniform line, we have standardized on 3 foot by 4 foot flags on 8 foot polls. So…

324 flags means we needed:
1 – 2,592 feet of 3/4” PVC pipe; cost $0.36 per foot – $933.12 – Donated for FREE
2 – 648 zip ties; Cost about $20.00 – Donated for FREE
3 – PVC cement; cost $6.00 per can donated 12 cans $72.00 – Donated for FREE
4 – Couplers and top caps; $0.25 ea total about $125.00 – Donated for FREE
5 – A place to cut pipe, glue couplers, attach flags etc – Donated for FREE
6 – Tools (saws, drills, wire cutters, etc) – Donated for FREE
7 – Labor 20+/- Patriots to give up their Sunday morning – Donated for FREE
8 – Coffee and donuts for the work force – Donated for FREE

If you get a minute, thank them for supporting our troops.
If you have a need, send them some business, tell them 'DNR with the PGR' sent you, might get you a discount...

Some of the companies involved were:
True Temp Heating and Air Conditioning – Caps, glue, couplers, coordination
Indiana Supply Corp. – PVC pipe
Capitol city Container – Warehouse to work in


I hate when work get in the way of bloging!!

PS: Don't forget to vote!!!

Monday, November 06, 2006

‘Breaking the Law, Breaking the Law’ – Judas Priest

Paid my $5 to enter a State Park with my wife Sunday. We like to walk trails less traveled, so we road around for a few minutes looking for a place where no one or very few people were.

On the edge of one of the large parking lots we found a driveway with a sigh on a saw horse that said “Area Closed”. Being that the lot was empty and we could see a trail right down the road, we parked and headed down.

If you like hiking and nature, this was a good little hike. We saw two hawks, possibly a nested pair, a wood pecker several Red birds and many other little finch type birds. There were many squirrels out too, who, on a somewhat warm late fall day, were scurrying around in the leaves and up and down the trees like toddlers on their 3rd cup of cappuccino. They’re so funny, I could stop and watch them for hours. We also scared up a couple deer, maybe more. I’m sure they get a kick out of scaring the bejeebers out of hikers. They could slowly walk away before we get close, but NOOooo. They wait till we are about 30 feet from them then bolt!! All I could see was white tails and back hooves. (read ass-holes and elbows) Leaves flying up all over the place, branches cracking. We both ‘bout jumped out of our skins.

Heading back we stopped along the trail to read signs about the local trees. It is rather challenging when there are no leaves (on the trees) to figure out which tree they are talking about. As we top the hill heading back “Ranger Rick” pulls up and yells “You’re not suppose to be back here. The sign says “AREA CLOSED”!!!”.
‘What, even to hikers?!?’ I screamed to my self. ‘How in the hell would you police that??’ I mumbled under my breath. There was a trail down the hill that went do another parking area, without their precious sign. So if we had parked there we would have walked in the same area and never seen their blessed signs. We walked back up to the road and he… waited. Then followed us out the road - WTF!!. What were we going to do, shoot all of the deer, build a meth lab, take dirty picture of the squirrels… WHAT!!??

My wife says it was because we were in black chaps, jeans, black leather jackets and ridding the Harley...

...but that would be profiling… Wouldn’t it??

Friday, November 03, 2006

A Cold, Cold Chill

I’ve been letting more and more people know about this blog thing. I e-mailed a couple people I work with, etc. Then I started to e-mail my family group…

I have learned from others mistakes, I always go back and review the TO and CC sections of e-mails I am sending. Too many time I have seen e-mails come from others that should have been reply to sender and not reply to all.

… so when I went vback to look at this one (to the family group) I realized my parents were on the list!! (Aaahhhh, anoter very cold shutter). But, am I being a wimp? Is the blogosphere so open that we are expected to share all with our parents, siblings and (another creepy shutter) our kids? Better yet, do I want to read my kids blog… Now that thought scares me.

What do you think??

Do your parents read your blog?
Free polls from

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Little Things Are Changing

I came across a web site some years ago that had this clock thing on/in it. So, I reviewed the web page HTML, found the source and ‘hacked’ it. I’ve never had a web space to use these types of things, so, you will get to see some of my collection in the days to come.

To date I’ve added:
1. Indiana Amber Alert Link – Flashes when there is an active alert. Click the banner for more info.

2. A hit counter. ( I know, no big deal)

3. The Clock thingy… Hacked it off of another site several years ago. This will change periodically, I have several cool cursor thingies. I have no idea why it won’t follow the cursor down the page… any HTML gurus out there care to help??

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Trick, or Treat?

So, I’m sitting quietly in my house last night, minding my own business with my porch light off (in my day that meant "go away"), when, ding-dong. There’s someone at the door. "Rats, n frasin’ little twerp kids, don’t their parents tell them stay away from houses with the porch light off", I thought as I put down my laptop, paused the DVR and made my way to the door. "looks like a candle flickering… what the f-hell". As I open the door I realize it’s dog crap in a bag, on fire, on my front porch. "Ya little shits!! Well, at least they didn’t get me."

I stepped over the bag and head to the garage, got a shovel. Easy enough, pick up the flaming crap, drop it in the yard (glad it rained some in the last few days). The bag slowly goes out (wet poop doesn’t burn). Put the shovel away, then head back into the house. As I’m heading for my favorite easy chair, I hear a bump come from the other room. I guess it was more of a pat or pad, you know, like something soft lightly bumping into something hard. I reach around the corner and flip on the light and… nothing. "I swear I heard something". No sooner did I finish the thought when something brushes past me and the lights went out. I about jumped out of my skin, and for some silly reason I pushed the door shut, slam-thump… Now I’m freaking, doors don’t make two sounds when slammed, especially if they don’t shut. I fumbled my way to the light switch and OMG!!! One of those little shits is in my house!! Currently knocked out laying on my living room floor.

Oh, ha ha ha. (my best evil laugh) Here’s my chance, I can teach these kids and their liberal "my kids never do anything wrong" parents a lesson. Quick and quiet before he wakes up I loosely duct tape his mouth shut and his hands behind his back. Grab a ketchup bottle out of the kitchen and pour some on the floor and table sitting near by, grabbed a big knife and a meat cleaver from the kitchen, ran both through the ketchup, just as this little punk started to stir. "Good, your awake, I hate cutting kids into little pieces when they’re sleeping, I don’t get to hear any good screams. Come on, you’re next…" as I stood up with both knives in my hands. Heh

I have never seen such a small person have such big eyes. He jumped up, cleared the front door heading down the drive, screaming all the way. Still amazingly loud considering he still had the duct tape partially covering his mouth. Apparently mom had come looking for him, because as I shut the door (for real this time) I could hear a chorus of screaming coming from outside.

As I re-situated my self in my easy chair, I couldn’t help but laugh. I think I might have to pass out candy next year.