Sunday, October 25, 2009

Lost and sometimes found.

Good Morning All;

I would presuppose that we have all, at one time or another, misplaced something, only after a lengthy period of searching, began to feel as if there is a Poltergeist in our home, who mischievously periodically hides items just to feed off our frustration. My wife, especially, will take an oath on Websters Unabridged Dictionary that this is so in our home.

She frequently has to go on a "Treasure Hunt" to locate missing car keys, glasses, grocery lists, etc.

Her hunts for the T.V. remote have become so frequent that I have laughingly offered to get her a shoulder holster to keep the remote in, while she, in retaliation, has frequently said shes going to hang my car keys from my zipper tab so I'll know to always 'Zip up" before going out. But I'm afraid that would be frustrating, as I would undoubtedly spend hours looking for my Keys, before Goodwife snickeringly asks "have you checked your Zipper", the answer of course would always be....."well of Course" followed by, "How'd they get there?????"

I would guess that the above subject that is contagious will us all, especially as we age, past 21 or so.

The reason I've posted this today, is that I've just spend hours going through about 50 boxes of books, looking for a specific Title, that I've misplaced.

My wife is currently in a Rehabilitation Facility recovering from a Knee Replacement and a subsequent cerebral Event, and since she always loved this book, I thought I'd try to find it for her.

The Title of the book is, to the best of my recollection, "Dear Friend, or Dear Friends, and is a compilation of letters home from a civil war soldier. I think I remember the book is green, but thats about all the information I recall. Oh Well, I'll either find it or not. Not a crisis.

Have any of you ever lost something that really frustrated you, or found it, glaringly in sight after hours of looking, or perhaps found it (the misplaced object) years later, and been gladdened by finding the treasured object?

If so, chime in and let me know so I won't think I'm the only forgetful nut around.

Stay Well.


Saturday, October 24, 2009

Final Instructions!

Good Afternoon Folks:

I have a clipping from the News and Views of the Nat'l Assn. of Counties that was published in our local Newspaper over 30 years ago that I think you'll get a chuckle from;


I am writing My Will Mineselluf that dam lawyer want he should have too much money, he asked to many answers about family. first thing I want I dont want my brother Oscar have a dam ting what I got. he done me out of Forty Dollars fourteen years since.

I want it that Hilda my sister, she gets the North Sixties Arkers of where I am homing it now. I bet she dont get that loafer husband of hers to broke twenty akers next plowing time. She cant have it if she lets Oscar live on it I want I should have it back if she does.

Tell Momma that Six Hundred Dollars she been looking for for twenty years is berried from the backhouse behind about ten feet down. She better let little Frederick do the digging and count it when he comes up.

Paster Lucknitz can have Three Hundred Dollars if he kiss the book he wont preach no more dumhead polotiks. He should have a roof put on the meetinghouse with (it) and the Elders should the Bills look at.

Momma the rest should get but I want it that Adolph should tell her what not she do so no slick Irishers sell her vagum cleaners dy noise like hell and a broom dont cost so much.

I want it that mine brother Adolph should be my Executer and I want it that Jedge make Adolph plenty bond put up and watch him like hell.
Adolph is a good business man but only a dumkoph would trust him with a busted pfenning. I want dam sure that schlemic Oscar dont nothing get. Tell Adolph he can have a Hundred Dollars if he prove to Jedge Oscar don't get nothing. THAT DAM SURE FIX OSCAR.

(The original document printed above was found in tennessee's archives by James Tipton Jr., Executive Director of the Tennessee County Services Association)

I told you you'd get a chuckle out of this>

Stay Well


Thursday, October 22, 2009

Words of Wisdom:

Good Evening all:

I have before me some words of wisdom (don't panic--not mine), which I think most people can benefit from:

"It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbles. or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly...who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."


Stay Well


Random Thoughts

Good Morning:

I read an article in the Newspaper this morning about Disc Golf. I have only the written word to call on in discussing this relatively new sport, but several things about it, as I understand it are as follows:

You don't have to wear any sort of weird costume to play said game, whereas in traditional golf, one feels underdressed if he or she is not wearing something unusual. Like for instance, bright yellow pants, a chartreuse knit shirt (Preferably with a Golf Club Embellishment on the left breast) Special shoes with spikes or cleats, in case one has to trod upon a fellow Golfer who has just won a healthy bet with you, a go to hell hat or cap, or in the case of the Professional wannabees, a visor, with the Nike swoosh upon it, and a determined or disgusted look on their faces. I tried playing Golf when I was a lot younger. My wife and I were residing in New Orleans at the time, and believe me, if you Golfers want a REAL challenge, try playing 18 holes there in July or August. If you survive that you can say that you played The Course from Hell.

I found out several things about Traditional golf, during the short time I partook of the game. For one, Mark Twain was exactly right when he said "Golf is a good walk spoiled". for another, Golf , I'm sure was invented by the same guy who invented Golf balls, knowing beforehand that Golfers would always lose at least one or two Golf balls in a round, or as in my case, six or eight, and insuring him (
The Inventor) a steady and healthy income. In Disc Golf, I would presume that few if any discs are lost, thus saving the player quite a bit of money. Also one does not have to carry around a bag of clubs, usually weighing about ten Stone, or buy a pull-around cart for said bag o clubs, or for the Inveterate (read Drunken) Golfer, invest several Thousnd Bucks in a Gasoline or Electric Powered golf Cart, in order to ride in comfort around a Golf Course, that would drive Rand-McNally crazy trying to figure out the logic of the layout.

In short, I have a simple word of advice for Golfers. To address the reason for playing the Game of Golf, try substituting the following: If you want frustration, just raise two or three Teenagers. To get rid of a lot of annoying money, buy and remodel an Old House , and for a sense of accomplishment, do something to please your Wife (and if you succeed, please notify me with your secret) . As for me, I'll continue to Prefer Skeet. At least you get to take out your frustration with shooting the little Bastards, something, I'm sure , often thought of on the Golf Course.

Now I should say, in justification for this post, that I have known quite a few Golfers in my life, and few of them showed any other signs of Insanity. To keep peace in the family, I hasten to add, one of these chaps is my Big Brother, who I love and admire. Said Brother is a Golfer, and apparently a good one, usually shooting an Eighteen hole score that surpassed any score I managed in a Nine hole effort. I will also add that I once played a round of Golf with my Boss, in a company Tournament. To say that I was under pressure would be putting it mildly. My Boss was, and I would presume, still is , an excellent Golfer, and I, on the other hand was doing my usual good job of preparing the Fairways for planting daffodils, such were the size of my divots. My boss remarked during the round (under his breath) "should have brought a few bags of potting soil with me). He (El Bosso) didn't really hurt my feelings until I hit a beautiful Six Iron shot from the Fairway, which, stunningly, landed on the Green. the Boss commented "Where did that come from". I don't remember exactly, but I think I six-putted that green.

Oh well, Golf and Golfers are just a miniscule portion of the things I don't understand, but I'll keep trying.



Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Dog Shows

Good Morning:

My wife and I have enjoyed watching the Westminster Kennel Club dog Show for quite a few years, and the following are just a few of our observations.

I think the people who trim (shave) a Standard Poodle to look like a Fop, must surely be Gender Benders. I've heard that Poodles are very smart dogs (as are most Dogs when given a chance) but I wonder if they (Poodles) don't feel a little embarrassed to parade around the ring in a Dog Show, with their coat shaved and trimmed to make them look like some sort of a cross between an interrupted hair cut and a Drag Queen. I feel sorry for these dogs.The reason I've been told for Poodles being trimmed in this fashion, is that they were originally bred as hunting dogs and the hair was trimmed, leaving certain areas around the dogs joints unshorn to protect them from the Cold Waters of, say, a Duck Hunt. Bushwha say I. If this was even remotely so, why not just leave the dog alone and let him or her stay Warm all over? I also have trouble understanding why dogs are maimed, early in their lives, by having their ears cropped or their tail chopped off, in the name of Breed Conformation. I wonder how their owners would like it if they had their ears customized to look like Dr. Spock, and have one of their buttocks removed, in the name of fashion. I would venture a guess that there are a few around Soho, the Village, or San Francisco who would probably go for it, but surely no sane person would be in favor of it . But what do I know?

I think that we ought to leave Dogs just as the Good Lord intended them to be and not surgically customize them. I'm pretty sure that the Dogs would be a lot happier.

Another thing I can't help but wondering about is the size of some of the people who "Show" the Dogs. I'm speaking I guess of the "handlers" who run around the ring with the animal and pose it for the Judges. It seems to me to be a rule of thumb that the Handlers Size and Weight are inversely proportional to the size of the Dog being shown . I am pretty sure that I've seen Handlers in the 250-400 Lb range (and I guess it sounds sexist, but it seems that most of these are of the feminine gender, with a portly gent thrown in occasionally, for gender balance,huffing around after a Chihuahua, just as I've seem trim and fit people showing a Neopolitan Mastiff, for example.

In one show we watched we sat horrified as a Double-Wide Handler wiped out on one of the curves and very nearly Squashed a small rat-like dog of some Denomination. I guess the weight problem that some of these people have is due to the hectic shedule of Dog Shows forces them to eat whatever they can, and one presumes that is probably Junk Food, or perhaps the losers in the Shows.

One other thing I've noticed is that the Judge of the Best in Show Feature, seems to me to always be just this side of royalty. I guess that if you do not have a net worth of umpteen cazillion dollars, you need not ever harbor a hope of being asked to Judge this Feature.

I don't Know, all of the above are just observations and opinions, but I do know know for sure that its great fun to watch this annual event.

Have Fun


Monday, October 19, 2009



Right now I feel like the little boy whose Dog really did eat his homework. He had spilled some Marinara Sauce on it while eating his supper and finishing his Math Homework, got up momentarily from the table, and returned to find his Dog sitting attentively next to the table, with a scrap of paper hanging from his jowls with;
Timmy Baker, Miss garpy's 3rd grade arithmetic written on it.

It really did happen, but he couldn't use the excuse, because some other little bastard named chuck or Leftie or Big Un had already falsely used it.

They say write what you know, but what if you don't know a damned thing? . I guess that's not really accurate, I do know a few things, but they are of no earthly interest to anyone, including me. The things that I do know for sure sound like preaching when I write them. I know about Good Manners, Hygiene (Never go out with a girl named Butch, who has tattos on her knuckles and a hairy mole on her nose that she calls Monica (the mole, not the nose)and uses Roach Spray for deodorant. I know about not having enough money, about being a disappointment to myself (for one) I know about the unconditional love of a Dog, and how most Dogs are better people than people. I know Cats make me sneeze, I know the person who invented the Robotic Telephone answering System ought to be Gelded and sentenced to live in Minnesota or Chicago or some such place. I know that Knit pants in any size other than 00 ought to be outlawed in any public place, such as your living room. I know that most men who wear a Bow Tie look dumb and pretentious, if you can't afford a Tux (and I can't) for God's sake don't wear a Bow Tie. I know the New Yorker Magazine is a pile of Happy Roach dung. I know that most people who go about telling the world how great a Christian they are are really just Horny little Boys or Girls who never grew up. I know that self pity is usually well deserved because you really are an asshole. I know that dealing with the U.S. Government is worse than having a case of the Crabs, and being forced to wear boxing gloves. I know that while the Computer I am currently scribbling on is Junk, but good enough for someone who Cannot Write worth a Damn. I know that I can't stand men who wear loafers without socks, or white belts, or checked pants, or who pay more than Ten Bucks for a haircut, when they usually don't have enough hair to make a Bad Toupee for a gerbil. I know an Automobile is a hole in the driveway that you throw money into. I know that Executives who make Millions of Dollars a year should be paid a Dollar an Hour, and be painted with pink and green polka dots and made to go naked except for a codpiece made from a Collander. These are the things I know, and who the Heck wants to read about them? I know I am damned tired of "Political Correctness" and Buzzwords like "thinking outside of the
box"..........whatever the heck that means.I know that Politicians and Televangelists are paid too much. I know that George W. Bush is as dumb as a box of hammers (no disrespect intended for hammers, for they DO serve a purpose. I know that in all probability our current President will probably win the Heisman Trophy because he watched a football game. I know that my Wife's Motto is probably "diminished expectations" or "oh well". I know that most Gay guys are really guys who never got a date in High School because he couldn't find a Girl as Pretty as himself . I know I never heard a Swedish guy say "Yumpin Yimminy". I know that so called "Modern Art" is the work of guys who can't paint worth a lick, and is usually collected by people with so much money that they think they have good taste . I know that Professional Athletes make a lot of money playing a childs game. I know that Shoe Salesmen (or women) are underpaid. I know that few things are as irritating as shorts that ride up . I know that most of us are luckier than we admit. I know that Child Molesters all deserve the Death Penalty, and that rapists should be neutered and forced to watch Jerry Springer day and night. I know that men who stop and ask directions are smart enough to know they are dumb.

In short, what is this strange compulsion that makes a person want to be a Writer anyway, other than a limp ego?

I also know that it feels damned good to write something no one will ever read.

So There .

Written by the Evil Alter Ego of;

The Old Professor

(I would never write anything with profanity in it, would I?) ©

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Made in U.S.A.

Good Evening:

I think one thing most Americans will agree on, is a deep belief in American Made Products.

Sure there are, or have been, some products we were not too fond of, or "Brand Loyal" as the Marketing Wonks are fond of saying, but for the most part this had been a matter of personal preference, but whatever brand product we ultimately purchased It (the product) was most always marked "Made in the USA" If a product was made in another country, it was viewed with suspicion.

I recall that before and immediately following World War Two, anything marked "Made in Japan" was considered junk, and more often than not lay gathering dust on store shelves, but using the same criteria, Watches for example, marked "Swiss Made" were considered the finest in the World, as were German Optics and Machine Tools.

Of Course, following the War, German products dropped out of favor for awhile, but soon began to reclaim their market share, due to their quality.

But now it seems, every Darned thing we buy, or contemplate buying, IS NOT made in the USA, but more and more often, the Product will have a made in china tag on it, or Mexico, or Venezuela, or SriLanka, or Vietnam, or Haiti, or you name it.

I'm pretty sure this mess has occasioned our "Disposable Society", for example, we used to buy a "Mr. Coffee" machine and really didn't think much about the usable life span of the device. When it gave up the ghost, usually after several years, we would reluctantly dispose of it, but keep the Carafe, as it was usable on the replacement coffeemaker purchased. But, it appears, that those days are gone forever. Now when we purchase a brand-new Coffeemaker, regardless of the name emblazoned thereupon, it is always made in China, AND it seems, that the new device seldom lasts more than a few months before it too, is ready for the scrap yard.
Also I have noticed, that with each new coffeemaker, the Carafe will not work with the old machine, so out it goes, one more item for the landfill.

But Coffeemakers are just the tip of the Iceberg. My wife and I recently purchased a new Dishwasher, Maytag by name, and were unpleasantly surprised to learn that Maytag, a name long known for, and associated with, American made quality, is now owned by Whirlpool Corporation, and was made in China. And I should hasten to add that said Dishwasher was not "Bargain-Priced", but cost around Five Hundred Smackers.

The old Dishwasher that was replaced was, in fact, really-really old. A proof of this was the "Made in U.S.A. label on it. I almost felt like having some sort of Liturgical Ceremony to mark its passing, sort of like, "So long old friend".

Maybe I'm making too much of the fact that it seems that with each passing day, less and less products are made in our Homeland, as is witnessed by the growing number of jobs that are being "Outsourced" (In other words, sent to China).

I for one am Old Fashioned enough to declare that I would rather pay more for an American Made product than cheaply buy a piece of foreign Made Junk.

And if you need further proof of the decline of our 'Business Leaders" total lack of good sense, just try calling customer service about a product, a bill, or what have you. I would wager that about nine-tenths of the time the phone on the other end will be answered by someone who sounds like Apoo, of The Simpsons fame, who will proceed to confuse you. I have gotten so tired of being put on hold, and having to listen to music from Bollywood, that now, when told to hold, I just lay the phone down for the rest of the day, or whenever I need it next. Let them experience some frustration. ( Incidently the same procedure works wonderfully when you get an annoying sales or survey call) Just lay the phone down and forget about it. You will periodically hear "hello, hello, hello " echoing from the phone. A happy sound indeed.

So, Sports Fans, Try and buy American, go ahead, I dare you . I think you will also find that "Nafta", "Cafta" and whatever other "Afta" is trumpeted by the Politicians just results in "Shafta" for we unlucky consumers.

Stay Well

The Old Professor.

Monday, October 5, 2009


Good Evening gentle Folk:

This will hopefully just be a short post, as I am sort of tired.

Five days ago my Wife had to go into the Hospital to replace a worn out knee joint with a new Wonderous Titanium Artificial Knee. I dreaded the operation for my wife, for I knew it was going to be a lengthy process, and a painful one. We had absolute confidence in Our Orthopedic Surgeon, for he has done hundreds, perhaps thousands of successful such operations.

He was also Degreed in Mechanical Engineering, Prior to entering the medical/Surgical field, and had whittled on me a couple of times, with great success, and was and is a Great Guy.

Everything went fine during the Operation, and for the day following, Goodwife was alert and responding well to Physical Therapy, and was conversing sensibly and easily.

That all began to change late on that day however. She began talking irrationally, reaching Autonomically ( or some such miscommunication between certain neurons and ganglia perhaps taking a left turn instead of a right)to things unseen in the air, and in general, just not anywhere near her normal self. I was worried and talked to the RN who was caring for my wife, and she told me that such behavior was pretty normal for a Post-Op patient after Joint Replacement Surgery, but I was still not satisfied and was worried.

I had scarcely gotten home on Sunday night when I was awakened by a phone call from the Hospital, telling me that my wife had been admitted to Intensive Care and requesting that I come posthaste. My Daughter and I rushed to the Hospital, and found my wife in a state of near insane behavior. She was Hysterical and accusing the Hospital personnel of dragging her down the halls, throwing her about and being mean to her..

I was then told by the Charge Nurse on that floor that my wife had suffered not one but possibly two Strokes. I was speechless with fright, and immediately began Praying that somehow she would pull through this ordeal, but I can't say I was confident in her recovery, but finally the Medical Personnel involved found that my wife's physical descent and crisis was probably caused by a lack of an essential Mineral and perhaps( their words) her receiving the wrong type of Medication.

In the interim, My Son and his Wife had come down, and both were anguished, but we are fortunate that My Daughter in law is in the Health Care Field and was able to help us become more informed as to my Wife's condition, as well as reassuring my wife, in her always kind and sweet demeanor, that she (Wifey) would be fine and reassure her . My son however, was ready to Kill whoever was responsible for his Mom's Problem. Luckily for the Hospital he and his wife had to return home the next day, as they had to work, or else there would be a smoking ruin where the Hospital used to be, (just kidding, but not much).
But as I write this she seems to be much better and hopefully will be out of I.C.U. tomorrow, and then perhaps then in a day or two will be ready to go to a Rehabilitation Facility for about three weeks of Physical Therapy, to begin her healing process.

During this process, I have struck a couple of one sided deals with God. I asked for my Wife's full Recovery, and asked that I pre-decease her by many years, as I do not and have not ever wanted to live without the Person I have lived with and Loved for over three fourths of our lives.

I trust you will forgive my interjecting this personal note on my Blog, but as I'm sure as many of you know, writing can be a therapeutic thing, even if poorly done as is mine.

(Added five days Later).....................

I will add one more thing to this post, and then I promise I'll shut up.

The first night in I.C.U. After the nurses on duty, the Anesthesiologist, and my Wife's Cardiologist had visited, I was finally told by one Nurse (in a whisper) that she had been the victim of a mistake in her Anesthesia, and that was what caused her problems. Needless to say,I was looking for someone to visit my wrath upon, and I told one little piss-ant of an Intern that he was not only a poor excuse for a Doctor, but what was probably upset, thinking that perhaps God had a Doctor Complex.
for some reason he got a little red in the face, which matched the color of my extreme lower back.

The Nurse the first Midnight shift was a godsend. She did everything she could do for my wife, and for my family and me. May she be blessed and may her tribe increase.

However on the third night, my Daughter and I were called upon by a Nurse who would give a bad name to lousy Nurses everywhere. She came in my wife's room, sat down and announced in her best Lucretia Borgia voice, "I want to know exactly what you people want me to do for you". And then proceeded to start an argument with my Wife and I.
I'm afraid I did not behave as a gentleman, escourting the Nurse into the Hall out of my Wife's earshot, and told her" DO NOT EVER ARGUE WITH A PATIENT !!!!!!
And added in my "Hit Man" whisper, "The Patient is not always right, but they are always the Patient, without which you would not have a job", and added, "But if you really want to be unemployed, with the current poor economy, I would be more than Happy to see that it becomes so!

My Daughter was there, as I said, and she has Red Hair and a temper to match. Yon Nurse does not know how close she came to Madame du Morte.

Anyway, my Wife is in a beautiful Rehabilitation Facility now, and the Personnel all seem to be wonderful, so we are looking forward to a Happy Outcome. Meanwhile I have to go help my Daughter finish the Voodoo Doll she is working on, and sharpen all the Barbs to be thrust therein. And oh yes, tomorrow is our Fifty-fifth Wedding Anniversery

Stay Well, Pleeeaaaase!!