Dog Tales (series) ep. iii

Maia, meaning mother, perhaps is mother of that which is silly. When over at MR's house, she jumped up on the sofa to sniff through my pockets. While I entered bearing beggin' strips, that I tossed onto the floor for her, she insisted that I must be hiding something better in my jacket. This was not the first time that she checked out my jacket.
On a seperate occasion, my jacket moved up and down, as though life were entering and leaving it. Upon closer insepction, Maia was rolling it and tossing it to gain access to pockets.

Her more typical trick is to "misplace" a toy under the sofa or table or in small space behind the chair. "Woof! I don't know where it could be. Woof! I can't quite reach it, though I put it there. Woof!"

Really, she's MR's dog -- he should write this.

Dave's house

I wasn't going to write it, but it's just too funny not to write it ... sorry I beat you to the punch on this one Dave.

When they were looking at the house, they found some ... peculiarities. One error was a sagging basement ceiling. While the excuse doesn't bear out reality (positioning of shower), it is nonetheless, memeorable as "No new taxes" and "What's the definition of is?" -- trapped in a hard place, lie!

Well, the ceiling is warped because one of the teen boys fell asleep in the shower and plugged up the drain with his butt.

A very comical lie. Sadly, it was the only given explanation as to the ceiling problem.

Thanks Dave!

Dog Tales (series) ep. 2

Titan, bold, hyper dog of the century. A good and well meaning dog who never thought of himself other than a dog. There was a neighbor dog, Eli a taller, longer Great Dane, I think, that liked to race Titan along the fence. There was no serious animosity between the two, merely typical rivalry and show-boating. On one occasion, they stood ready and aiming at each other.
Chicken was the game, or perhaps headbutting sheep is a better description. Either way, they agreed at a dog-perceived signal that the time was, now! They ran full-bore at each other and collision! They didn't hit each other, but rather a post, along the fence that spearated them anyway. Ouch! Dazed and confused for so long it's not true -- for them, it was. "Uh, we meant to do that."

Titan, so bold, even flying dustballs were his enemies and he would cry to you to make them. CDs were great, as they would shine a nice rainbow on the walls to chase. Any game had to do with chase!

There was hide and go seek. A group would walk along with him, then split. He would panic, then scramble to herd everyone back together again, whining the entire time from panic ... must get sheep together ... must get sheep together.

He would drop his toy for his two humans, but for nearly no one else. JF, my neice, his ... cousin? was the only exception. For her, he would jump, run, do whatever. She never needed to shout, merely say, platz and he would lie down. It was comical.

He favorite thing above all was river wading and swimming. Ah, creeks, rivers, streams, anything muddy and foul-smelling. He loved it and would swim for a day, if given the chance. His other dream, never accomplished was to chase the llamas next door. Oh ... they look so good to chase. Please? He chased deer and other critters, but ignored birds entirely. Bees, wasps, flies ... they were "good eatin'" Spiders, not the best critters for the humans there, neither of them liked them, were also interesting fare, when he could get them.
He was never able or intersted in catching the thumb-sized mice that were in the house during the winter.

He also didn't destroy a stupid little ragamuffin of a squeak toy dog that bit him. He was on the sidewalk walking when a speck of a dog bit his leg. The owner quickly fetched the dog announcing the dog's sheer stupidity in attacking Titan (meaning large / mighty anyway) who could have chomped it to death without thinking.

As far as fast food -- I think he preferred Burger King.

-- T.B.C.

Dog Tales (a series)

unorganized, but so are dogs -- sometimes.
the following stories are based in fact, but some details are sketchy, many are from first hand or second hand accounts.
-- please note initials represent real or pseudonyms to protect their identities from laughter at work

Thunder (short for Thunderheart) while wonderful around people, for he thinks he is one, doesn't like many other animals. Squirrels are great to chase, capturing is great! Dogs must always be assailed with torrents of angry barking.
The folks were visiting my sister's family in Denver. Typically, luggage is "late" really misplaced. At three a.m. loud pounding resounds on the front door. [loud pounding] (continues while Thunder snores, back against the door). TO gets up, not wanting the kids to wake and goes to the door. [pounding continues] TO has to push Thunder out of the way to open the door. [Slide ugh! Opens door to unhappy airport delivery guy and takes baggage]
This same dog scared the pants off many people not knowing him. He's a long, black Shepherd with a taste for ... human


food

To this effect, Thunder has conived people out of their food, so that he can eat it, never bothering to chew, then suffer gastro-intenstinal problems usually culminating in fire hose diarhea. "Fire hose" in two senses; visually spraying, then the need to spray the area after he goes.

Also what makes this dog special is patience. He has often trick-or-treated with a costume, been Barbie -- worn make up and had his nails painted.
He was also called, Sir Marks-a-lot, in that nearly any standing object had to smell like him through urinal or fecal means. He also wasn't to be outdone when the boys, while hiking in Colorado made use of "outdoor plumbing". He would hastily make sure it smelled like him too. He, probably like most dogs invariably wound up smelling like the family because of walking in a stream ('enough said there).

Also exceptional is his "bad tennet" status in kennels. Normally this would be attributed to those who trash their rental or those who, in some way warrant their eviction. He was evicted / denied access to a large number of kennels for the following reason:
"He wouldn't stop whining and crying just throughout his stay. I've never heard of eviction from crying. His belief that he's a person lends himself to believe that he should not have been there. His crate training also brought on teeth injuries, trying to eat through the cage.

I guess they should have just resigned themselves to believe in his perspective that he was a quadraped human.

To his credit, he has also been "too sore", "too tired" to eat. The kids have brought handfulls of water to him to lap up and handfulls of kibble for him to be hand-fed.

-- In this series, all stories are presumed to be continued

Superb bowl?

I went to MR's to watch the game.
This was on HDTV -- clearer, better. I didn't much care who won.
I did like some plays, including the cheat of Steelers getting their first touchdown, which wasn't.
I was also watching the commercials. There certainly were some stupid ones like:
Diet Pepsi and P. Diddy, "Brown & Bubbly butthead commercial"
The sex between city-destroying beast and city-destroying robot yielding an H3, stupid and sick to think about it.
Whereas they didn't have costume malfunctions, they did hint at it with ABC's Dance With the Stars. "See partial nudity here!"

I liked the, I suspect expensive, Fed Ex commercial in the prehistoric era.
I'm sure the hidden Bud commercial will air again, but I thought it stupid and it isn't a good beer. The Bud commercial I did like was the underage clydesdale pulling the wagon. I guess they had the costume malfunction with the naked lamb/sheep not Boundin'.

During the half-time I was hungry. MR and I ordered a half/half taco pizza meat and meatless. They messed up when we got there so they gave us a medium no meat as well as the large meat pizza.

During the phone call, there was a strange noise ... perhaps, more on that later.*

MR noticed that the Steelers have a Predator on their team, hence their winning.

It was good to know that Michael Jackson was not featured.
The opening groups, sad to say were hastily run together -- lacking professionalism. I like Stevie, but that rush, rush, rush thing ... not good.

Ivan Neville: typically takes the National Anthem and makes it his own -- cat scratch chalkboard. The singers were not a good sight. Surprising was the complete group of MVPs from 1-39. That might be the last year they can do that, as some were in great shape and others didn't look too well.

Another suggestion to people who aren't listening: dump John Madden, not a good speaker and not a good commentator.

*"There's always a disturbance with you." -- Spiderman 2

Ouch game

Charlie, while at Dave's last night; was daring the ouch game. You know, skating around in precarious action/inaction waiting for that thrill of possible injury -- better when it is others.
In this game, he was wheeling around on a scooter in the wood fishined kitchen around adults with exposed toes -- no shoes. I found myself to be the only victim.
Coupled with this was his illness, his cough, at the same (illness) stage of William's, who was also coughing a bit.
Not to be outdone, Andrew spit up a few times -- babies do that.

To meet him is to know him

I expect either contributions from MR or Monkeyjack on this one.

Reynolds (first name, unimportant). aka: cubby, flaming carrot
in other circles: psychopath

I thought that I'd never hear of him again, but five years ago his nephew was in the class I was teaching. The nephew was allowed to birng in a special person, in this case his Uncle Reynolds. The nephew had his mother's married name -- I never made the connection until I saw him. I was ... uh, awestruck. He had only a short time to talk with me apart from the students, where he told me of living in the "Big Apple", managing a sports store and having been mugged at least three times.

Reynolds. Hmm, how to talk about him. I suppose that he wasn't always bad natured, but really odd -- outgoingly so. Because of him we have such phrases as, "I didn't order it and I'm not gonna eat it!" (a story told to me of when he was at a local Mexican restaurant and refused loudly to eat the beans. Later that night -- I think, he also stated), "Crunchy taco time!!" (mashing his meal into a pate' then eating little of it.
Another night at the same place, "analingus" -- you put that together, I think you'll get it
When playing D&D, "I want to cut off her face and wear it around." (after slaying a poor hapless innkepper not integral to the story)
"Meaty boy contest" (who is the largest fattest person here)

I think we all know of scooping water (32 oz cup, back when it was a fast food craze to give them) and splashing your friend's face while he's telling a story.
Being so obnoxious at a party that they tie you to a tree, and you arent' set free until well into the morning despite your plaintiff wailing.

Puking, still having the smell on your breath, saying that you'd still work on drinking all day, regardless of this minor setback (it was 10 something in the monring).

I think if you ask enough people there would be stories of setting fires, torturing animals and other derrangements.

He hasn't off'd himself like reckless Rowe did. It's amazing!

Talking with him long, you found his favorite topic was him and how rude and socially crude and offensive he could be -- even about you.

Back in the time of the BBS, there was a site Might and Magic. On it, there was a jousting game, that you could play once to thrice a day. Later we found that it was like a carnival game -- rigged, "in favor of the house".
Either this game or another, "Cubby" lost a round to another person, "Prydaine". His prompt return to losing was typing, "Twist my [rooster] [ryhmes with witch]!" Assuming he was playing against another guy. The 14 year old girl was ... well, offended.

Anthrax revisited

Stomp, Stomp, Stomp
The Idiot Convention

-- Caught in a Mosh

You say you want your own state?
I'll give you a state; a state of unconsciousness

-- Keep It in the Family

We just want to have a (interupted voice) festival ... (trailing off)
Fun you stupid idiot! Master! (from Metallica's Master of Puppets)

-- I'm the Man!

Anyway,
I was thinking of them, as they were one of the first bands (people who play their own instruments, and write their own songs) to work with rap and rap groups. They worked with Public Enemy on Public Enemy's remake of Bring the Noize. It certainly breathed life into the song.

I heard Kid Rock on the radio ... oi! He was not the first to "sample" music nor to "Take rock and mix it with hip hop". All things considered, I think Anthrax might live longer than Kid Rock.
1. the Anthrax scare of late 90s and early 00's
2. some versatility
3. williness to play small venues
4. likely fewer expensive vices
a. Kid Rock ... "whiskey and cocaine"
b. Kid Rock ... "buying large rock for Pamela Anderson"
1. Pam Anderson -- yuck! There's nothing attractive about that nor anyhing real.

Kid Rock might play his own music, but I'd say, POSER. He teamed up with Metallica on their last legs of being okay. Later they put out St. Anger -- I think it's obvious it's aimed at the prison population (who ironically don't typically have money nor access to music), Garage, Inc. (close, I think Garbage included would have been more precise). Sorry, guys. I liked your earlier work.

Scorpions -- painful as it is, made many hairband ballads. I heard one in Walgreens. After about 10 months, they'll get a dime for this one-time play. Ironically, Klaus Meine (German) spoke better English than Kid Rock.

Super Bowl

Ah ... the entertainment.
The band, an actual instrument-playing band is Rolling Stones, supposedly. They won't have costume malfunctions, but might have sleeping problems or candid rudeness from, lets say -- lyrics. That being the case, it will be better than parading lip-syncers to music they didn't write, trying to dance on a 15' x 10' stage.
Moreover, Bon Jovi wasn't chosen, so that makes me happy. I'll have a nice day then. I do not Bon Jovi: in a hat, with a rat, on a train, in the rain

I don't care for either team, so it doens't matter which one wins.

Dave's party

It was a nice party. I got to finally see the house. It looked nice, roomy, charming. They must have done a lot of work on it, especially when he described the maintanence; lack thereof, of the house with its previous owners. It was great to be there.
I got to see Andrew; cute, lively, watching everything and everyone. I didn't get a chance to hold him though
William was interested in playing with others, also easily captivated by Toy Story. He has cars, but the helicopter was truly neat!
There were tasty treats -- that I should not have had, but they were yummy!

It was very nice to see people all around. It is a quiet neighborhood.

There was a person in question, regarding movie roles: he is David Warner; staring in Tron and Time Bandits.

Passivity or I psychoanalyze myself

As I age, I doubt that I am less angry, but my "anger gives" me "focus". There was a time that my so-called rage was free-floating (not unlike free-floating anxiety; also similar to general anxiety disorder), but rather than a disorder, it was a character flaw rather than a true psychosis or mental ailment. Now that I am old, only minorly wiser, I find that there are indeed injustices that are worth of anger and attention.

I remember that there were times that my aggression was easily diverted to any number of questionably rational ideals including my homophobia at the time.

There was a time that I was quite homophobic, during the BBS days trying to garner support for the Legion of Fag Haters (or something like that). It was at this age (maturity not chronological) that I was most susceptible to cults and mob-justified crime including murder. I had a wonderful group of friends who were gay-stomping, though a few agreed that homosexuality should have been a punishable crime. Two critical things happened in my life to permanently alter my perspective on violence.

1. In my youth I tortured and killed invertebrates endlessly. It was enjoyable. I happened along a frog in the yard. It was at this juncture that I could have ended up like Rowe. I was sixteen, I think, and I held a large knife (old military knife I found at a school) over the frog. I dropped it probably about six times before it hit the poor frog. It sliced a back leg, but it didn't injure it terribly.
This would cinch me into a typical psychotic / asocial category save this; I felt terrible and nearly cried for the frog. I had a well hidden and buried conscious. I had done so well at hiding it, I found its strength in returning, painful. After this, I could not comfortably injure any animal. Much later (15 years, perhaps) I have an even greater preference for not killing when possible. I set free spiders and insects rather than kill them. Perhaps it is because of guilt or because I do truly feel that there is a reason for their existence at that time -- spiders eat insects that serve other purposes -- cycle of life and continuity of nature.

2. Had I not been introduced to people, who later on were okay people, and further on were openly gay, I would have felt justified in my hate of them. Ignorance has a way of verifying assumptions. To this day, I don't have any really close gay friends. If I'm wrong, then I am. Anyway, more to the point. Having found out later that people I knew for a while were gay, I had no real reason to hold that against them since it didn't change who they were. With this I relented my hate and animosity. My worries and fears of gays stem from very young years, and certainly not improved with some of my childhood experiences and neighborhood friends.

My folks weren't homosexual bashers and, since they grew up in bigoted households and couldn't stomach it, they weren't going to raise children who disliked supposed groups or categories of people. For this, I am very thankful.

My self-destructive tendencies, though general wild stupidity, were nearly suicidal; based for some years, though I doubt that I recognized it. Having grown older I am a bit less reckless. I have no suicidal tendencies and have been known to wimp out on many things, merely due to the safety or risk factor. I don't gamble (various reasons for that) and am far less of a risk-taker.

Wow! I am mad. It's amazing anyone around me is around me.

Names of infamy

If not now, later, when they are obnoxious ADULTS.
I had J'Lyn and Grayen both at odds with me. My solution, divide and conquer. That worked, Grayen being the greater offender, I removed him.

Look out for these two in their teens -- news, I'm sure.

Survial of the best suited

or best fit.

Rowe (first name, unimportant) met a sad end after high school, around 6 months after graduation. Ohio has different rules for alcohol and establishments than Indiana. For this reason a dive touts enterance to 18+ persons, being given a paper writstband indicating legal and non-legal drinkers. This is interesting in theory, might even be good, if the people were faithful to that policy. The place had no quams about underage drinking, since those checking ID, saw that it was roughly rectangular and had a picture and letters on it. Honestly there had to be 14 year olds there too. Worse still, 30-year olds. Drunk 30 year olds and yonung teens -- so gross, it should have been nuked. Anyway,
Rowe apparently was driving back, with other underage drunks in the car. He failed to make a turn and flipped the car. It was my understanding that he bled to death, pinned under the car, his "friends" fled possible arrest for 'minor in posession'.

This was an anti-climatic end to someone who made a mortar for a class project to fire a tennis ball. He enlisted my help to put things together. He had to make due with what he had -- and he was alive because of that.

He read a munitions manual for a book report (sound crazy yet? Other stories will confirm it)
He made a mortar from cardboard tubes and socks for stuffing and wadding.
He used an electric start to fire it.
He carried the weapon just outside the school. I plugged it in.
[Foom!] Words don't describe the volume of the blast. People exited rooms. I ran around the corner to see his vanishing act. In seconds, like Copperfield, he was gone in a large cloud of smoke. There was an odd print on the window of the door. We later found out that it was melted sock that didn't come off the window.
I opened the door and still no Rowe. Finally, coughing hacking, he was there. What no one had scene is him rapidly dropping the large shattered firework and putting out the fire on his arm. He suffered second degree burns. No one remembered that he wasn't trying suicide, specifically, but rather "launching" and tennis ball.

He generally brought some weapon to school, showing to a select few -- no one really wanted to know. As far as I know, no one picked on him, he was just bizarre and a loner. Had he lived, he would have made news for crime no doubt.

He also palled around with RC (not likely to be mentioned in any later post) who openly made anti-Semetic comments and once nearly blew up himself and Rowe by playing with a live grenade.

I guess I posted this because this was a route I could have taken -- the road less travelled, for a reason, leading ultimately to destruction of others and self.

Middle School Madness (series)

a kid who had bangs longer than the fullness of my scalp hair, I imagined him thinking: "I like hair in my face." (song-like)
"Swats", corporal punishment for wrong-doings. I never got one, but that was employed on several kids while I attended.
Art teacher; nice but wacky, suffered a debilitating fall on steps leaving him mentally incapable of teaching. His nickname for me: Howdy Doody, because I have freckles.
M D (probably never to mentioned in any other post) had a preference for silver and gold paint markers -- nasty and messy. I remember he always had some mess on his desk somewhere and on his arms. Later, this kid couldn't come to school because of a bad acid trip.
At least six different incidents of me getting hit in the groin, usually during P.E. One such adventure was attempting to block a soccer shot. I jumped up and it was only chest high. Well, with the jump, it hit me square in the nads. I fell onto the ground, was pulled off the field and asked the stupid question, "Are you alright?" No! I wasn't alright. MR was there and was heartily laughing.
MR invariably would fall asleep during any movie or slide show during science.
The same "I like hair in my face" kid would sometimes turn around and look at either MR or me or both and mumble, "I kick you [sic] butt"
I remember being pretty much Beavis or Butthead throughout, well before that series was on TV -- "stoner", "rocks", "hard" -- all with stupid laughter.
I also remember the report on 60 minutes referred to masturbation as arousal from "touching oneself", which I didn't quite comprehend being genitalia, but rather anywhere. I thought it odd that someone would moan at the touch of an elbow.
There was a foul-tempered math teacher who made grass-growth fascintating, but not math.
MR had a notebook with the collection of his, not-truly Schultz Peanuts, in say ... XXX form.
There was a teacher there who wore short skirts and was very curvy. What? What do you mean I'm teasing the hormone-strong animals? I'm not doing anything but getting their attention. "Uh, Mr. Murphy? Would you come to the front and give your report." "No thanks. I'll take the F."
I remember the underpowered computers they brought into the school and that people had to learn to use the "Card Catalog".

The P.E.T. Computer. Tape storage driven, with a Mac-like fused body and screen. The keys were as solid and stiff as an electric typewriter's, the screen a little larger than a wallet.
I first met MR in middle school. I also met TS there too. His wonderful opening statement to MR and I was, "Hey, Frog and Toad." Charming!

MR was the first person I ever met that actually took the bus -- as I walked to school Elementary and Middle.
This was also the period of the great egg toss.
There was Reynolds and Reynolds teachers -- not related. The woman Reynolds was young and, well ... quirky. Public knowledge of her biker (or cyclist) boyfriend lent us to make speculations.

Whunh was there. She sat in a group with MR and myself. Another tidbit of middle school humor:

Fjord: a body of land mostly surrounded by water (I defined it as me, a guy, in the bathtub)
This also spawned "Fwank!" c/o MR -- the sound reverbarated when farting in the tub; to which most people can truly attest.

Speaking Old Entish

I took the folks out today for lunch. They ran into an old neighbor from when they first moved here. She can talk exponentially. My father stated, "I thought that we'd be here all afternoon."

It reminded me of Lord of the Rings, "It takes a long time to say something in Old Entish, so anything worth saying takes a long time."

BBS

days

There was Hairy Monster then Scott mentioned, decade later 2005 sent me this

Tribal Warfare

What I predict for the short future:
escalations in the Arab regions will eventually plummet the world into terrible factions.
There may be more than two groups, but ultimately it would break down to two groups. I see one separation being Muslims and non-Muslims.
At that point with emminant warfare ... nuclear weapons would be employed breaking the population into scattered parts. Presently the world sees the US as, gennerally a bully. The arab world is unstable and with instability comes war.
With war, unending, there is a "winning" solution, nuclear warfare wherein your "side" could "win" by having the greatest number of population not immediately killed or (17th-18th century concept) winning by holding the ground -- area of contest.

I would predict this to be within 22 years, unless stability within the arab regions and the US improve. The US is too petty with partisan battles to realize that spending money abroad, especially in the arab region doesn't bring money back to us. The last many administrations and congresses and senates have not spent money domestically for many improvements.

Welfare -- gennerally doesn't work and needs -- trashcanned in favor of a new system. Overpopulation in the jails & prisons can be simplified as per person expenditure well exceeds anything spent on welfare.
Too many poeple -- too few exectutions. A more proactive, pre-emptive strike on groups, like proposed by the administration could limit the money presently spent.

Crime, now an adult, can be controlled with selective striking so that no other generations will go on. This will ultimately appear to be another tribal conflict being of the poor versus the rich.

It was long in coming.

You know what makes you gay?

[this is funnier if you saw 40 Year Old Virgin]

That Fine Young Cannibals dance of leap froggin you did!
Shane Johns -- wierd turned to gay

Stories of hide and seek with male roommate when showering. Gross, nasty, eww! Later had gay child porn...

wow (Ben Stein voice here)

Names will hurt you

Whuh! -- a name given to someone who was, well, with a large posterior before it was hip.
Fffpppttt (fart sound) -- from her stupid, criminal-esque boyfriend

More later

short bits about "Wilma" or Kleenex as I call her

first ... that isn't the real name, but the pseudonym will be used throughout:

Wilma is living with one or two guys at the time that she is introduced to our group. It was my understanding that she was "sleeping" with one, but ended that, then was "sleeping" with the other.

At this time she met Scott. He had her over, not really knowing what a ciniving witch she was. She flirted with Monkeyjack. She then was with ISJ, similtaneously with Scott. She met up with MR and that was three of our group. She expressed interest in Krista too.

Now that you have a bit of an understanding, here comes the the relationship part. There were factions going on him against him or them ... oi! It was ugly! We were petty and it brought division and 'betrayl' to the group. In the end, the group was weaker but alive. The intruder is ridiculed, but there was a lesson in it ... keep friends true.

The flake and fake -- nasty character is still in town, but I think wise enough to know she isn't liked.

I was out of the mix -- I was intersted in her -- momentarily, but she wasn't in me. All the better, perhaps.

Legends of the Fall

More stupid things I miraculously survived:

Climbing up a ladder and trying to duplicate coyote running in mid-air, then falling onto not-so cushy lawn furniture pads.

Swinging on vines in the local woods -- including having it snap mid-swing, sending me falling 8' onto my back.

In the same woods, firing randomly at things. I fired at a tree, the bb hit something and it came up to my eye -- within an inch, then fell to the ground. I was convinced that day of the phrase, "You'll shoot your eye out!"

Bumper skiing with a person who doesn't tend to stop if you've fallen.

Ridning on the backs of cars
Riding in the non-existent trunk of a Fiero (hot engine that I had to avoid touching), so the trunk was open and I rode in it until a stop sign, over hills and bumps. I was desperate to get out -- I nearly left it while the car was moving.

Mixing a batch of alcohol and water so that I could hold fire! I didn't actually get burnt with this, but it was stupid. On the same day, I blew up a butane lighter I found.

Deja Vu

and my lust for lust

Also downtown was a 18+ (no alcohol) strip club. I did like going here and it was about 1 block from the Other Side.

Deja Vu was a chain, headquartered in Flint, MI (later dismantled by stupidity). It was tied to the mob, a woman manager (undercover officer) finally got access to files, linking illegal funding (laundering of monies), thus closing all the clubs.

While in I business, I was keeping it in business. I spent / wasted lots of money there on strippers feeding my lust, but not fedding my lust -- I didn't ask for anything extra, and they weren't going to give it away -- nor accept if I was stupid enough to give to them without it. Suffice to say -- (approximate figure) $5000, perhaps went to that place. What a waste!
Despite all of that, I can say that I never had "relations" with any prostitute.

This was about an 18 month habit. After that -- I was done with it.

My then-sister's-fiance wanted a bachelor party. His friends, one of my brothers-in-law and I went out to such establishments. They found it comical that the strippers knew my name -- many of them. They all just looked at, whom they thought was a clean cut guy -- in shock.

My lesson: it ain't worth it.

take me to the Other Side -- not!

This here's a tale of some frinds who were duped.

There was a closet homosexual, or at least I didn't know he was at the time and an openly bi-sexual woman (her tale will be told later, hopefully through the many sources MR, Scott, Monkeyjack, & others, maybe).

These people I will give -- pseudonyms: Fred and Wilma
Monkeyjack was with me when Fred mentioned there was bar that people 18+ could enter. I thought it odd, but went along with it. It was downtown, which should have been a clue. Wilma drove in her compact manual.

We arrive at The Other Side. This wasn't too secretive if you knew the inside. We walk up to the door, several couples are leaving. One runs out and effeniantly calls out, "Wait! I forgot my purse!" This guy was a fellow graduate whom many thought was gay. It turns out that he certain was at this time in his life.

We enter -- I was homophobic and rather nasty about my dislike and pronounced hate of gays. All step further didn't make the night better. Fred paid, then Wilma paid the cover charge.
Monkeyjack walked up and dolled out a $20. It was at this time that the cashier was clearly high. He made no response to the $20. Slowly, he recognized it as money, but had to search 4 minutes to not find change. He asked someone near him for change. It was painful to wait for the stupid guy.
I walked up and handed him another twenty. Forgetting that he looked before, he routinely looked in the same places, and also had blank periods on non-movement. Finally he called over someone for change, having not found enough in the cigarette box in his sleeve (50s look).
We proceed and Fred hands each of us a drink.

What the ____ is this, I thought. I held it not wanting to drink it, thinking that getting drunk wasn't the wisest of choices. The further we went, not a well kept place, by any means, we go to the main room, somewhat divided into seating and dancing.
We sat.
I looked around and saw, typically people talking and dancing. A guy was dancing by himself wearing a purse, others were group dancing -- charming.
At one table I saw women around my age at that time ... cute, neat

they kiss
[next]
We sit there and I'm very uncomfortable. By now I have slugged the drink and wanted to leave. Monkeyjack, not as uncomfortable as me, wasn't ready to leave. The time we went wasn't random. The floor show started around 15 minutes after we arrived.

Before that, I had to whiz. I wasn't sure about that. I was happy that there wasn't a long line of urinals nor stalls. Perhaps, it was more horrifying. There was a men's and women's. In the mens was an airline size restroom. It had a toilet and an undersized sink. The door had a thin interior door and a screen door. God knows why -- better not to speculate.
The wood door didn't have a lock. I did lock the screen door with the nice hook
With my back / butt to the screen I used the toilet as quickly as possible. Faster, must pee faster!
Stupidly, I felt so uneasy, I pulled out a boxcutter from work ... cutter in one hand, putter in the other. I finished and rinsed in icelandic cold water -- sans soap.

I returned to my seat mortified.
The floor show started. I looked for about ... 2.2 seconds. That was long enough to see a red sequinned something, I think with a blonde wig. I stared at the table for the rest of the time.
Wilma had expounded later on how she was jealous of their legs, these dancers, drag queens.

The lip-syncer was walking around, singing and I understand, nearly sat on me. Monkeyjack grabbed my chair -- saving everyone from a nasty battle scene. At that moment, I didn't mind being Monkeyjack's b____. After that singer, I left asking absolutely no questions -- hurriedly, angerly!
Monkeyjack called after me ... "wait!" I wasn't. "Wait!" No ________ way! He caught up to me with ... importantly, keys!

"Can you drive a manual?"
"Yes." What I failed to complete was "badly, terribly, not really."
I stall it 15 times trying to reverse.
I stall it 20 more times going back to Monkeyjack's house.
I never took it out of 2nd ... ouch!

I would have felt bad about it, except she was a nasty little character ... deceiving, lying, using (more later on "Wilma")

I picked up the two in my car, about 90 minutes later when they called.
Bad evening, but one from which I wasn't hurt or harmed, just scarred a bit.

Reason to fear

Ouch time!

don't look up

last thing you see before the splat

Moving Day

Dave, his pregnant wife Jen and son Will were moving. While they had moved a great deal of their things, stuff was still there.
They asked for volunteers for the job. I wound up having the day to help them.

Their house was mostly empty. The obstacles that were the most difficult were:
the sectional sofa that, even with four beefy guys lifting it was, well, a challenge through not narrow stairways. The practical solutions was cables run over like straps, carrying the section gurney style. I'm not a beefy guy, those more able were the lifters there.

Piano. It wasn't too difficult, but if you haven't lifted one, especially without the wonderfully available piano movers, it is a "treat". The piano is long and the ramp onto the moving van was not long enough to be a slow incline.

The packing went well. Some things were there long enough that -- one forgets how to disassemble them. It was, uh, interesting ... the crib took some thought.

The best thing to move, most of all, was the cement planter, which Dave was, I think, not so happy to have to take with them. I think it was only 4 x 4 feet, like 4 tons x 4 tons. With all of us lifting it onto a truck, it was still an unhappy move. It could have snapped under its own weight.

Their transitional move went okay. I wasn't able to help them to their new home.

Ages

Monkeyjack, when in high school looked like a middle schooler. He also looked young. This once enabled him to get out of a ticket -- looking like a new driver.
I looked old in high school. Monkeyjack's early-developing cousin thought I was thirty-five. Boy! His cousin was not a good mix with horny teens. She was young, 14, but looked, well ... curvy. Too curvy for a 14-year old. We were around 17-18.

Monkeyjack always got carded and I never got carded. I still look about 5 years older than I am.

In that I looked old enough to buy, say liquor, earlier than I should, I never took this opportunity. I was too scared, chicken, whatever.

We didn't start the fire

Oh, wait ... yes we did!

Monkeyjack and I were the only ones to have Apple computers in 1988. So, we were intersted in file-sharing, that's how we met.
Hey, who's [my name]?
Look for the guy with his shirt open with a full beard and hair hanging out. Keith found me with no problem.

While file-sharing, an inspired thought came about ... why not start that wad of paper on fire?! Why not then?

Light ... hold ... ouch, fire! Fire! Fire!
Run to toilet flush the fire. Wow! That was pretty stupid.

My last trip to Denny's

I only went there twice. Circa 1990?

It was late, we were all hungry, probably in the north part of town when we all went to Denny's. Good food -- not present. Service -- tardy. Stupidity -- common.

Most memorable was EM talking about a fun thing with holding your wrist in pain with "boisenberry jam on it."
Boisonberry, how very common.

EM is also known as, the close talker ... uh, hey! Could you like, not be 4 inches from me when you talk?

He also had a brother who I saw twice. His brother had the Joker character from Full Metal Jacket, 1000 yard stare. He looks like someone you wouldn't approach.

More eggs, more fun

In most school systems there is the fragility test of protecting an egg from certain disaster when dropped. The students each have a couple of days to put a raw egg in a container to protect it from a fall.
Enter factor two: a teacher who, doesn't like you. She is the teacher for this science class.

MR had the misfortune of not being on her 'good' list. I didn't see it, but he reminded me of her special glee in flinging it horizontally to gain momentum having it destroyed. Gee MR ... you get an F. Thanks for the fair assessment!

She tried mightily to cast mine to the same fate, but it survived somehow. I talked too often and found her class to be ... uh, boring. I was probably deserving of her animosity. Frightening as that was, there was a common substitute teacher for her: Mrs. Burk, who we lovingly called Burp. She was loud, foul, and hated everything to do with people -- my perspective at that time.

Fianlly, you throw into that class, when alternately reading sections, M C who read much like grass growing. Syllables lasted days. Reading a paragraph was, well, not necessary punishment for us all, really.

Science of egg tossing

Really, there is a science in it. First, realize that eggs splatter in a wide pattern. Eggs, no matter how fresh, stink immediately after opening and they don’t smell any better with age. What to do; what to do? I know! Let’s play egg baseball. If you haven’t play this game … try it!

First, the batter should be well protected from the spray. I had an old shower curtain – that’ll do! Stand and get your proper stance.

There’s the pitch! Strike, an unceremonious death of an egg.
Pitch. Hit! The hit looks like the end of a comet! It spray everywhere, barely touching the batter. The pitcher, me .. was wearing some. MR called for another egg.

I tossed it and MR hit it with fury. The spray went farther – to the porch – not bad!

I believe I tried it and the egg all went on me. I stunk, both in talent and in smell.

At some later time, I grabbed some eggs and tossed them to someone in the lawn through the back door. Their catching it was astounding. TS tossed it back. I dodged it deftly and it splattered on the linoleum. I laughed about it. TS walked in and MR was there. They were stunned by my comic running in place on the slick of eggs the lay on the linoleum. MR claimed that it seemed like a minute of me constantly running trying not to slip on my face or back. I succumbed to gravity and fell backward. I wasn’t awarded applause.

wierd things to mail

your beard once you've shaved it. Monkeyjack was the "lucky" recipiant. Left with the question ... why?

Truth in advertising

If they want to make another big budget gay movie, they ought to just call it:

Gay movie! We've finally made it!
Don't dupe people into watching some dang cowboy love movie or anything like that. Call it what it is ... gay movie, because you could.
Do you want to know something ... theaters will sell even fewer tickets than they do now.

I guess, although MR would contend that I am very politically correct will write this: If you have to declare what you are, you probably aren't. If you have to yell into people's faces that being gay is great and everyone should try it, you are probably wrong. If you're gay, great! Go thata way! I don't want to see it and would be peeved to be in a theater, paying $7.50 only to be duped into the theme.

Last Temptation of Christ hid nothing in its title. If it offended you ... don't go! There would be an easier way of titling the movie, "B__________k Mountain." That would about say it, eh?

Awards committees have long been idiots. The fact that they are hailing this as a revolutionary, innovative movie because it's so gay, isn't surprising. What's sad is that people still watch the awards hoping that decisions are made based on merit, not vindicating the repressed.

wrong movie

The students (all of 3rd grade) I think, took home a movie, Secret Garden. One student had the wrong movie in the case, Clueless, which is just too ironic.

Fucher Gie

"future guy", that wasn't what I originally read ... boy! That was really funny to think that a third grader wrote about me with that title.

The assignment: write about a person who has a talent. What's the talent and who is it? I mentioned that I can made some good predictions from seeing patterns, like relative time to change to green from red, from no given original time. I don't see the future or predict it, but rather predict outcomes based on patterns. This has not lent itself to poker or gambling.

My member

a far cleaner way of writing what my catch phrase was for a long while -- thankfully more than two decades ago. An example of to the absurb level it was carried appears below.

Hey! What's that on top of that [Napa] truck?
That's my member! Actually, I used a more precise medical term. Whereas others might have favored old standbys for comic sense, I stayed true with (uh, "OPP" by Naughty By Nature discussed this).

On that same trip, Monkeyjack, his nephew and I pulled up to the window at Arbys. His nephew states, loudly, "Hey! She's got a mustache!"
She was embarrassed and we might have received, "special orders"

Brave, Brave Sir Robin

TS, MR, and I were out walking around where TS lived at that time. It was late, summer, and of no big deal -- maybe 1985 /86 or earlier

A dark ran zoomed around the streets and stopped, turned and headed for us. Comically MR and I turned to each other, to collaborate with TS that it would be wise to run, but also comically we saw a cloud of dust in which he was leaving us ... a good, seemingly 10 seconds ahead of us.

We also took off, never in real danger, but it wasn't good to know that TS wouldn't alert us to any danger that he might have thought or felt.

Thanks!

Lethal Weapon

Lethal Weapon was on Sunday night. It reminded me of an attempt (not really singular) that [friend who shall remain anonymous] and I had trying to "sample" the movie when it was new on VHS.

What's great about this whole line of statements are: they cannot be substantiated evidentially

He brought over his VCR and set it on mine. Getting the thing timed together was a pain. We tried to use the remotes -- they each worked both VCRs ... Keystone copiers. They also didn't record the first several attempts -- 4 hours in total to record it.

There was copy protection on the tape in that there was a cyclic rise and fall in brightness and color (around 20 seconds) throughout the movie.

Without the protection we ran into some of the same silliness with Aliens, but fewer. In the course of it, I learned both movies quite well.

It mostly fails when you have the same VCR, mostly.

Next I can hear, "You're gonna arrest Timely Demise of Sanity"

Monkeyjack throws a big bash

at the cost of everyone there

He instructed me to get vodka. Why I chose the brand I did, made sense, I think because with the limited money I was given he wanted one specific item and all the remaining to be spent on vodka -- cheap.
Cheap I got -- too cheap!
By the end of the night 90% of the people had puked. His nephew came over with friends -- to filtch liquor and they did. One idiot kid got so smashed he forgot he could walk and dragged himself through the house, puking, then putting his hand in it. Step drag, stagger, stagger (Yellowbeard). A couple of people slept in the bathrooms. I walked out to the street and let go there. I woke in the morning to find the rooms filled with lying bodies ... like a mob shoot out ... no blood, but gore everywhere.

I left, but felt the worst I had ever felt. Hours later, while I was propped up on a sofa, I let in Monkeyjack and his at-then girlfriend. They reported that BBS-name Toejam had passed out on the loveseat sofa nd filled it --- filled it with barf. He also nicely broke it. Monkeyjack took all the cleaning supplies he could find.

Nothing really restored things to normal. The smell before I left / before the cleaning was less pleasant than uncleaned kitty litter. That was a bad, bad, bad, bad night.

Lest I forget -- braving the unknown

A stupid experience with X.

We (yuck -- painful memory there) were in bed when there was a slight noise somewhere. X was worried of the tangible and intangible. She looked and saw the dogs (four of them -- white trash ... redneck -- insert name here, they were all hers) looking in some direction at a wall, leading to the basement and the second floor.

[my nickname] "Go see what that is."
"No."
[nickname] "Look! The dogs are watching." (they were all looking in the same direction.)

"So?"

"Go see!"

Now ... we weren't living the best neighborhood at the time, and during the time that we were there we heard several shootings, one murder. I didn't think there was anything about which to worry, but her continued comments were elevated in pitch in anger and worry. I grabbed the nearest weapon -- a 4 inch diamond-tipped saw blade, broken. The things that make this funny require the following understanding:
We didn't have a lot of money, and she was bound and determined to spend what we had.
In order to save some money, the heat was kept down low ... 55 at night.
She insisted on my wearing ... the simplest things -- not forming a barrier between herself and me -- namely ... my hair was my PJs.
Now ... I stand, stark naked ... shivering in the sudden cold. X quickly cocooned herself with my exiting. I hunch over for warmth and to be "less visible" in the unlit house. I looked over and the dogs -- unsurprisingly now looked at the naked fool walking around. One licked her lips, as if to hide a laugh.
I made a two-minute look and shuddered back to bed. I reported finding nothing but that the dogs knew a funny sight when they saw it.

We were quite safe -- we had nothing to steal, the dogs didn't like strangers -- noisy too say the least. The locals, seeing the dogs, worried about them, despite my statements attesting to their not real wishing to hurt anyone.

movie review

It's unlike me to review movies, because I generally don't like them. The last two new / semi-new movies that I liked were:

40-Year-Old Virgin. If you're easily offended, don't see it. I would say that many adults would like it ... the profanity is strong in this one. A funny, quasi-unconventional section of this movie is, "Do you know why you're gay" bantering between the two friends.

Crash (2005) was an okay movie. Its intent is to address racism and wrongdoings because of those prejudices, each character being changed from circumstances and therein the racism comes out. A neat part of this movie is that there is no one leading character. I don't rate it high for most people's standards, but rate it fair 5 or 5.2 on a 10 point scale. That sounds low, but it's not so much. Unlike many videophiles I don't have a list of 2000 top 10 movies. I have very few ... less than 100, perhaps less than 50. The thought being twofold; how can you have two or more greatest movies; if all movies are nines or tens, are there middle ones?

Knowing local pervs

Welll, I wouldn't say know that well, but where I once worked, he was a regular. He was a local actor and advertisement narrator. I found it startling that he was a child pornography collector.

The wife of a Fort Wayne actor who impersonated George Washington was sentenced Wednesday in U.S.... Period actor?s wife gets 4
The wife of a Fort Wayne actor who impersonated George Washington was sentenced Wednesday in U.S. District Court to nearly four years in prison for helping her husband receive child pornography through her computer.

Yolande Saunders, 54, pleaded guilty in August to one of four charges: aiding and abetting in the sexual exploitation of a minor. Three other related charges were dismissed as part of a plea agreement.

Judge Theresa L. Springmann sentenced Saunders to the low end of the penalty range with 46 months in prison followed by three years on supervised release, during which Saunders must register as a sex offender with the state, enroll in counseling for sex offenders, undergo psychological and behavioral assessments for sex offenders and provide her probation officer with any financial records requested.

Additionally, Saunders is not allowed to consume alcohol or any mood-altering substance, have personal access to the Internet or possess any pornographic materials involving anyone younger than 18.

Saunders and her husband, Steven Black, 62, were indicted on several similar charges stemming from a 13-month investigation. The indictments alleged the couple possessed pornographic images involving children and most of the images involved children younger than 12, including one with a child between 18 months and 24 months old. Both indictments state that the images were sadistic, masochistic or violent in nature and that the pictures depict several sexual acts.

Black is serving an 87-month prison term after he pleaded guilty to possessing a picture of a young girl having sex with an adult man. He agreed to testify truthfully in any other trial through his guilty plea.

Saunders pleaded guilty to using her computer April 13, 2003, to receive a sexually explicit video depicting a child younger than 12 participating in various sexual acts. In admitting guilt, Saunders had to admit she used the Internet to download the files.

Saunders forfeited a computer and its related equipment, 85 musical CDs, camera, a cable modem and 22 floppy disks. Black already forfeited 47 CDs containing child pornography, nine videotapes and other belongings seized by police when they searched their homes.

The prosecution told a judge in February that if Black's case had gone to trial, it would have presented evidence that suggested Black had at least 200,000 images involving child pornography.

Black was known for his portrayal of George Washington locally and regionally at events such as the Johnny Appleseed Festival. His Web site stated he traveled to Pennsylvania, Ohio and other areas of Indiana to perform.

c/o adult girl relationship website

Harvey with Jimmy Stewart

I've wrestled with reality for 35 years, Doctor, and I'm happy to state I finally won out over it.

Dealing with the obstinent

Cross that line!
[step]

That one!
[step]

What is teaching the defiant like... that for 6 hours.

Madness in many forms

He's gone mad!
[echoed several times!) disapaiting in the distance as Hiss slithers away from John's stick beating.]

Madness runs in my family. It practically gallops!

Arsenic and Old Lace
If you have not seen this wonderful old B&W movie, do! It's great!

He no mad ... he crazy!

Short Round from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
an avoidable movie

You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.

Aldous Huxley

"But I don't want to go among mad people," said Alice. "Oh, you can't help that," said the cat. "We're all mad here."

Lewis Carroll

Better mad with the rest of the world than wise alone

Baltasar Gracian

Is he crazy?
In technical terms, he's a loon!

Terminator

The Frayed Ends Of Sanity

Never hunger
Never prosper
I have fallen prey to failure
Struggle within
Triggered again
Now the candle burns at both ends

Twisting under schizophrenia
Falling deep into dementia

Old habits reappear
Fighting the fear of fear
Growing conspiracy
Everyone's after me
Frayed ends of sanity
Hear them calling
Hear them calling me

Birth of terror
Death of much more
I'm the slave of fear,my captor
Never warnings
Spreading its wings
As I wait for the horror she brings
Loss of interest,question,wonder
Waves of fear they pull me under

Old habits reappear
Fighting the fear of fear
Growing conspiracy
Everyone's after me
Frayed ends of sanity
Hear them calling
Hear them calling me

Into run
I am sinking
Hostage of this nameless feeling
Hell is set free
Flooded I'll be
Feel the undertow inside me

Height, hell, time, haste, terror, tension
Life, death, want, waste, mass depression

Old habbits reappear
Fighting the fear of fear
Growing conspiracy
Myself is after me
Frayed ends of sanity
Hear them calling
Frayed ends of sanity
Hear them calling
Hear them calling me

copied and usurped much to the displeasure of Metallica
Thanks guys, for all the work for a while. Hint -- don't win favors with the prison population. They are disposable (and not so heroes) and don't have income to buy your works.

Phony King of England -- c/o Disney

Oh the world will sing of an English King
A thousand years from now
And not because he passed some laws
Or had that lofty brow
While bonny good King Richard leads
The great crusade he's on
We'll all have to slave away
For that good-for-nothin' John

Incredible as he is inept
Whenever the history books are kept
They'll call him the phony king of England
A pox on the phony king of England!

He sits alone on a giant throne
Pretendin' he's the king
A little tyke who's rather like
A puppet on a string
And he throws an angry tantrum
if he cannot have his way
And then he calls for Mum while he's suckin' his thumb
You see, he doesn't want to play

Too late to be known as John the First
He's sure to be known as John the worst
A pox on that phony king of England!

While he taxes us to pieces
And he robs us of our bread
King Richard's crown keeps slippin' down
Around that pointed head
Ah! But while there is a merry man
in Robin's wily pack
We'll find a way to make him pay
And steal our money back

The minute before he knows we're there
Ol' Rob'll snatch his underwear
The breezy and uneasy king of England
The snivellin' grovellin'
Measly weasely
Blabberin' jabberin'
Gibberin' jabberin'
Blunderin' plunderin'
Wheelin' dealin'
Prince John, that phony king of England
Yeah!

Word of mouth from R. Lee Ermey

Gunny Sergeant: "There is no precession in grenades, so therefore, you can't count and throw."

So I'm pullin' the pin!

You wouldn't dare!

Daffy Duck

1, 2, 10! Take that you dirty animal!

Angels With Dirty Faces

You draw the straws! I'm a takin' the parachute! Geronimo!

Yosemite Sam

Only a madman would throw the switch

That's it! I'm throwin' the switch! No more sanity, ever!

No! Not the third switch!
Throw it! Throw it I say!

Young Frankenstein

AMV Hell other parts

Because anime makes no sense

many sound bites ... very, very funny

great therapy for the delusional

trek to Hades

Lots of time ... but why?

Eww ... you farted!

ha ha ha ha ha

Eww! You farted again.

Okay ... once is enough, twice is too much. First graders and talking about farting. If you don't stop it soon, it won't ever stop and the farting won't either.

I was not the farter, but that was the conversation.

I've seen you work there before

Only ... it wasn't you, but you look just like him.
Where are these clones?

brazen

I'll just take that wallet, in full view of all the other people in the room. -- the thought of a would-be thief today.

After many lies, I sent her to a higher authority. The wallet was recovered with no money missing.

And the thinking behind this was?

Aren't you the guy

You know ... the guy.
Oh, yeah, right!

from I love you to death

I was asked, "Aren't you the guy that was playing basketball with that kid the other night?"
"Uh, no."
"I ... are you sure?"
"Yes. I wasn't the guy."

"He looked just like you."

Dang clones! I knew there would be trouble when the empire fell.

Friends Flambe

Monkeyjack and Scott were having a party. At that time I had two bags of liquor -- port-a-bar and mixed really bad drinks. I mixed a typical one and was drinking. I walked by the firepit and said, "This drink sucks!" I splashed it onto the fire.
Little did I know that the drink was, well, highly flammable. It roared and, I understand was orange enough to pierce the blinds and shine onto the wall. I don't think it had a sound.
My friends, now on their backs did make sounds, cursing me, the situation, and calling in pain from mild leg fires.
Uh ... oops! I could have done the fireball, I just didn't know it.

At some other event, I tried a flaming shot. I had a mustache at the time and, well, fire and hair don't mix. I didn't blow out the shot first or fast enough and I got to smell wonderful burnt hair the rest of the night. Yumm!

In a little known event, my X liked to cook chicken. At one time I did eat chicken. There was a mess of grease on the grill, as she had covered the grill with foil. It was flaming up and I thought that, after pulling the chicken, I would put out the flames with water. Dumb idea! It moved the flaming oil to -- the siding. I continued to spray the siding until the fire moved, now weaker to the porch. It eventually went out. I thereafter had a different approach to oil-based fires.

newspaper

on one birthday I got, "[my first name] farts and blows out birthday candles!" Gee, thanks Dad! It was funny, certainly not what I expected. I think I was eight?!

death of a tooth

Odd, but true: I was working at a video store and they had the typical gumball machine in the vestibule. The vestibule was tiny and open often to the cold air of winter. I went out one night, got a piece of gum and it broke my tooth. Now, how could this be? It would be from the following three factors: old gum, cold gum, possible weakness of tooth.

I don't have tattoos. I don't wear jewelry. I have scars are marks of surviving stupidity. They include: brow cut -- glasses broken on ice; forehead scar -- slamming into corner sustaining concussion; three forearm grease burns -- discoloration of skin (lack of usable pigment; wicked-looking shoulder scar from surgery; right elbow burn mark from late infection during healing; two other surgery scars; permanent indentation to right thumb from large and deep razor blade cut (pushing on pointy end); mild scalp marks from foundry work (source of elbow burn); slight rise in left palm from stitches; and permanent red, raised mark on chest from Calli the cat.

Calli -- the musical Calle, who made noises when you held her, which she did not like. She let me know, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't want held. I have that mark still today (from 1989). I think my marks tell their own stories. I don't need tattoos.

Monkeyjack causes five cars to crash!

We were riding back from university and Monkeyjack tends to drive, well, dangerously*. We were stopped in traffic. There was a gap to the next vehicle. Naturally Monkeyjack should go 50 to catch up in the small space. That we did! I was thinking we were going a bit fast and slowing might be good, but I looked over. Monkeyjack is standing with both feet on the breaks. We weren't slowing, but the vehicle ahead of us did stop us.
I met the dashboard. Monkeyjack braced himself on the steering wheel. Well ... although a mess, he moved the car to the emergency shoulder. He was in the wrong. We had to wait for a cop to see the, now, three of us. The woman he hit wasn't too happy, but wasn't course. It was a busy section, so cops are often around.

His car was a mess. It bent the frame and there was some engine damage. Her car did sustain some damage ... body only.

A cop saw us and was turning around to meet us on the right side of the road. Some fool who knew the woman Monkeyjack hit saw her, but stopped looking while driving. That guy hit another person, sandwiched in between another she hit. The woman in the middle had some minor injuries (from her reactions) and her car was very badly damaged.
Monkeyjack crashes five cars. Nice one!
If I remember correctly, his car was never really the same and within a year, it was gone.

This same car took out a cement planter on someone's front lawn. Why would he be on a front lawn -- good question. He was transporting a cat. If you haven't done this fun thing, sans a car carrier, then you are in for a GRAND treat. I don't know of a cat that likes a car ride. I also don't know of any cat that willingly enters a cat carrier.

The cat, on the way to the vet, escapes in the car. Worried that he would be hurt, Monkeyjack tries to find the cat, but loses control of the car. It runs up the lawn and takes out a planter.
Bad news for him, because the neighbors (2 streets away) are royal jerks! Supposedly, the bricks are local but the mortar is from Florida. I don't get it. Anyway, the appraisal for damages is substantial, because of the rareity of the mortar. He got soaked and they got a new van. Nice!


* dangerous -- By far, I have the track record for most dangerous driving, is that I was weaving through traffic and speeding and slowing like a maniac. E. K. was talking with Monkeyjack about this jerk driver. He tried to meet up with him to give him a piece of his mind. The driver was me.

Jim, necromancer

or animator of the dead:

A long-since dead Nova ... more air than metal or plastic. It had holes through the floor -- nice for meteorologists. How the thing was moving, other than on hills goes beyond me. I remember the nuts operation of changing the alternator, which required tools that fit between 2" gaps and the ability to draw it out through a maze and out the bottom. Despite the home repairs on it, it was dead. The seats had the mouse-eaten look of ages.
Mirrors were gone, holes throughout and the fenders were similar to demolition derby cars. The tires were bald and the electrical was iffy. Yet... to Jim, it was drivable. Here again, I call him the animator of the dead, for in human form, the Nova would have looked half-defleshed, missing 30% of the body mass, inching along on its mission.

His truck, later on, was another super iffy, patchwork of metal and quasi-metal.

Before the Nova was the Pinto wagon, equally as charmed as the Nova in every way, save that it was often used as a sleeping place -- in certain times. It had that real rustic feel to it. It didn't sound as iffy as the Nova, but much of the flooring was licence plates and other spare sheet metal.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

"Do you feel that this is a safe vehicle?"
"Yes sir, yes I do."

Another car's death

The Buick Century -- at that time was a common car and served me well. Its sad death was at 3:12 am on a Saturday. I was asleep when I heard a resounding crash. I looked out to see my car--folded. I ran out to look and saw the fluid trail of a destroyed radiator leak. The hit and run driver, drunk or other, left the scene. I never got anywhere with finding him.
The cops were pretty nice, since it wasn't an emergency, I waited over an hour. By that time, much of the fluid had evaporated. I saw nothing, so had little to offer. He gave me a control number and that was it. Killed by a random driver.
I called the insurance company the next day and told them I wasn't interested in having the totalled car on the policy.
"Why not?"
"Uh. It's totalled."
(silence)
"It's undrivable. I don't want to pay for something that I don't have."
"Okay. Let me check. Okay. Do you got a control number."
"Yes . #######."
"Okay. You insurance will be -- $30 more per month."
"How?"
"You no longer have a multi-car discount."

I don't suggest using Progressive, the company that I had at that time.
I wish I had a suggestion to you. My current company still charges me, I think unreasonable amount since I have no tickets on my record, nor accidents, and my car is old and [previous posts] a piece of crud. $700 annual, for that thing ... unreal! Im older ... what gives!

When you hear the crunch, you're there

It was like any other trip back from school -- high school that is. MR was with me and we were traveling on the road, when I saw something in my rearview mirror ... enough to scar MR who said my eyes got very large and my legs stretched out -- as though I were jumping.

It was probably not a good idea to smash into a Pinto, but that wasn't going through the guy's mind who was behind us. D. Schwartz, also from that high school was driving like mad -- sad that he was a greater lead foot than was I, smashed into us going 55 mph. Ouch!

Ah ... what to say! I looked at the damage. Hey! You bent a corner of my licence plate. Meanwhile, his front end looked -- uh, bad. Left front headlight -- smashed ... bent bumper, broken plastic grill. Who knew I had the only Pinto not designed to explode?

I had at least four other people crash into the Pinto's rear bumper at different speeds. Its demise came from excessive damage from other things, including a guy who was going 44 in a 35, on slush, Dec. 27, 1990. I got side swiped -- time moving slowly as I hoped to twist to parallel with him on his mad dash into destiny. I had cinder blocks in the back to weigh it down.
After the hit ... blocks left the car via the hatch window. I was spun 500 some degrees. I turned the foul-smelling beast onto a side street. I was dazed, but unharmed. Pinto ... cough, hack ... sputter, gasp [engine now off]

I walked over to the car that was on the incline to a hill -- entrance to plaza. From the look of the car -- position first, I'm sure he was just plain stupid. He wanted to get my info, but was disinclined to share his. The cop found mutual fault -- the other driver was pissed.

Nothing says Merry Christmas like a destroyed car. It was patched, but never really repaired. It was dead. My next car was better, but its death is another story

A man approaches MR

and starts talking nicely. I foolishly either willingly get in the conversation or am welcomed into it. The man is complaining about his depression. He is an accomplished alcoholic, being one for decades. His claims of drinking are -- well, claims. His other woes are, I'm sure real, but blurred by years and by alcohol. I stupidly offered him some advice: consider why you are alive if: you did indeed tried and failed to kill yourself, and have suffered the many loses in your life. This was about as useful as, "The wall over there is off-white, ya know?"

A man who drinks like that and does not eat, is going to die! When? It was a good time to get out of Dodge.

My lesson here is, if a person walks up to you with an alcoholic drink in his / her hand and says, "I'm an alcoholic!", just pretend your Serbian and English isn't your strong suit.

Desperately seeking Susan

So many years ago -- 11 years, I think, I was interested in a woman, Susan, and when I asked to go out with her she gave the put off line of, "Wouldn't it be better to just be friends?"

A dog's whine when closed in the house, as the rest of the family goes on a picnic, is close to the sound I made saying the word, "no" (stretched out for 8 seconds).

I'll race you up the wire!

MR and TS were passengers in my lovely (sarcasm) old Pinto. It was 2 something in that Friday morning. What to do ... what to do? We spot a Yosemite Sam on the curb. There was no wonder, as he was filthy, like a machanic's rag. I grabbed (pinched) him and we were off. We were on a gravel road. I tethered Sam to my back bumper. I couldn't see him, but MR could. MR had the misfortune of being the back seat.
I clearly demonstrated competent driving, going maybe 60 down a gravel road. We approached a curve that it was clear we weren't going to make, despite my slamming on the breaks (sliding nicely on the gravel). We were entering the curve, when we saw a worse fate than ditching in a field ... a telephone pole was heading toward us.

I gritted my teeth awaiting doom. MR, moments before had wisely put on his safety belt. I think, at this time, TS was trying to buckle up. We upruptly stopped. I saw no crumpled front ... no shattered windshield, but the horizontal hold was off. Through luck, God, or fate ... we rested on the guide wire that cut into the car like a cheese cutter, along the back wheel well.

I opened the door to have it mimic a kickstand. I tumbled out, as did TS. MR had to struggle to get from the back. Boy, was I stupid! We walked back from the car, and I thought it might be best to free the Sam that was on the back bumper. His ride wasn't as scary as ours.

At this time -- you would expect foul language or silence. I offered neither, but murmurred, "Curse my feeble driving skills!" It was a phrase that was stupid, but memorable.

I walked down to call the folks. They were ... not too shocked to hear me. We were all okay, and he was going to see us soon -- 4:15 /5 which seemed like 7. TS and MR were going to just walk back to either of their houses -- leaving me to catch it all.

Speaking of catch --- my father had a plan. Cut the guide wire and TS, MR and I would catch the car.

We were not so inclined, unlike the car. The snapping of the guide wire was the main concern. Darwin awards wasn't known then, but we weren't interested in dying that way. The car fell 4 feet -- unhappily. Unlike Herbie, this hunk didn't reassemble itself.

You won't be angry

I -- will -- not -- be -- angry:

1. Was it Hans Grueber's brain? Ah, no. It was Abby. Abby who? Abby Nor-mal, I believe. [violent shaking]

2. You tramp! The first chance you have to be with him and you did it!

win ter

Ah ... winter, unusual here, but 40+ mph wind with hard ice/sleet. Lovely, and I'm not driving in it

Car money pit

rrr click
r click
click

no battery

Didn't I just have this fixed?

After a jump and a short drive to where I had it fixed, and a ride back -- I got a call that the belt was bad and not charging the battery right. More money down the drain. Hopefully, it will be less than a new battery and the tales of the guano auto de eledteacher

I was told that it might be ready tomorrow morning

I like to watch

unlike Being There, I'm referring to channels that voice-over profanity. It would be better to intenitonally ruin the movie, like Mystery Science Theater rather than doing, "You scum bum!" in Smokey and the Bandit.
You _____ for brains! = You goofoff!

Better still, I like to do my own voice-overs.

MR did a nice one Are you threating me?

Cincinnati

"As God as my witness, I swear I thought turkeys could fly!"

"People are here, running into buildings, fleeing for their lives." [crashes nearby of cars being attacked by falling fowl]

WKRP

"Just listen to the lyrics, would ya?"

Imagine there's no heaven, imagine there's no hell...

"Sounds like communism to me! Stop playing it."

Nothing says I like you more than copping a feel

apparently there is an amorous kindergartener who lets his interests knows he likes them with a squeeze of the butt, which includes adults. That's fun -- not!

In another circumstance, different school, 3rd grade; a girl student felt up the girl behind her -- very private area. There was a line of lies about it at the start ... who knows why. I sent the two to the office about it. The felt girl was a bit traumatized and scared and crying.

Donkey Kong

A generation extrapolated the message to something that the authors didn't intend.

Winter Song

Tommy Don't Lick That Pipe

(c) 1995 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP) & Si Kahn/Joe Hill Music (ASCAP)

Winter is a-coming
And the weather's getting cold
I have to watch my brother Tom
He's eight years old
I never have to worry
That he'll slip on ice and fall
In fact there's only just one thing
That worries me at all

chorus
Tommy, don't lick that pipe
Your tongue will stick like glue
I've warned you twice
And I wish you'd mind
Don't you remember
What happened last time
You can do about anything else that you like
But Tommy, don't lick that pipe

Do you still remember Uncle Albert
Such scientific curiosity
He stuck his tongue out on the old pump handle
It took us two whole days to get him free

Do you still remember Grandma Dawson
She touched her tongue on to a waterspout
She said she thought that it was made of plastic
It took us until May to thaw her out

Do you still remember our dog Fluffy
He went outside to do his doggy thing
We found him frozen solid to a hydrant
We couldn't break him loose until the spring

Free Range

What an absurd concept!

Here, we allow the chickens to run around like chickens with their heads on, then just like the confined chickens we approach them, chop off their heads and prep them. So ... they're happier or healthier? Certainly the spread of contagions is less, but their diet is less controlled. So -- who cares? It isn't as if they could claim that the chickens are happier, perhaps for a few months, prior to suffering the same fate as caged brethren, save their feeling of loss of freedom.

I suppose I should favor more expensive hand fished or ocean fished fare, instead of cheaper farm raised? I think if I could get cheaper, more controlled, less heavy-metalled (mercury) lobster and salmon, I'd take the safer, cheaper lobster and salmon.

Free range cattle and pigs with larger pastures to eat, eating less of their own fecal matter might make sense, but not at a high increase of cost, especially if they have fewer injections.

Soup

The folks told me about an organic soup from Healthy Valley. Organic Cream of Chicken soup.
The "Free range chicken" were, I understand, minscule tasteless bits of matter -- cardboard would have had flavor. The soup itself was inedible, not tasting like cream of chicken. My father likened it to Oyster Stew, which he doesn't like. My mum likes oyster stew, but found this just generally gross.

I don't eat chicken, so I don't plan on eating it. The funniest thing here is that the compnay doesn't show it on it's website. Perhaps it was so terrible, the store had the last batch of it. I thought of sending a picture of an Orec (TM) to them, letting them know what it was like.

Are you threatening me?

"Are you threatening me [directed at Mace Windu]?' At this time, MR pipes in, "I am Cornholio! I need t.p. for my bunghole!" Ah, the emperor is Cornholio. He wears something covering his head.

Thanks MR ... that was in my mind today.

future shock

I was tempted to try pot, but the time that it was more interesting to me, I couldn't "score" any. All the better. After talking with some people and reading a bit, I wonder if I don't already have those warped, stupid concepts all without the drug.

Hey ... what if, through progressive acceleration and accumulation, Earth became denser and have greater mass due to cosmic dust -- especially from the greater area, but overall smaller mass and gravitational pull of the sun as it exhausts its central helium core and loses mass. Since the Earth then would be greater and have greater mass, wouldn't the moon be less costly to travel? Furthermore, couldn't the expanding layer of nitrogen-carbon pollution be "pooled" over ozone thinning layers, slowly replaced by "free" ozone from growing thermonuclear power plants, needed to serve the energy needs of limited oil countries?

If there is a small gap of material between two fingers tightly pressed together: theory of matter, in which particles may be tightly packed but collisions are rare, and space being filled with less matter and greater free energy, wouldn't introducing more matter into space cause a greater potential for rare collisions which, could domino into large-scale nuclear chain reactions -- yielding vaporization of matter into greater levels of energy, in turn accelerating into greater levels of energy in space creating more and more collisions until finally all of space is turned from matter into other energies? Decelerating or finding equilibrium in slower states of energy, finally into a big ball of slowly and finally near-atomic stop matter a solid pile of goo. You know ... like diarhea that falls to the ground and dries. "Are you saying we're the bacteria of a universal turd?" "Yeah"

Conceptual stupidity -- profound and unmentionable. Why would I need drugs? I've not had them and worry that I would either be the same with drugs or ... scarier: wierder.

I wasn't listening

I think God, life and luck were trying to communicate to me:

Everyone doing it, doesn't make it right.

Anytime that I did something, rather uncharacteristic, being outlandishly rude, using culturally or racial offensive language or trying to fit in with the crowd -- it ran around and bit me in the back (side)

"You shot the native" -- replace native with racial slur. For this, I got a very well deserved stern look from a guy, who seemed twice my height and twice my weight, a look that meant -- "Look! I shot the little punk bastard who said that!" And there was much rejoicing.

Joining in a mulligan's stew of sexually explicit tales, spoken all-too loudly, when behind me children are capable of hearing only me; one of whom, I think, knew me.

Smoking (see previous posts) only to be bleary-eyed and incapable of speaking above a Jack Palance whisper -- cigars are not my friends. That's a path I'll not take again.

I think that I'll take my regular path, as boring as it might be.

Hidden lines

I remember when it was okay to play music when you couldn't understnad the words or when they were spoken so quickly that you didn't catch them. Now, of course, there is the internet where you can get any lyrics.
"Greased Lightning", was a song that was okay to play when I was younger, because no one paid attention to the lyrics, "You know that ain't no _hit when you're getting lots of _it (female anatomy)..."
"It's a real __ssy (nickname for cat) wagon..."

What's more useful is that some language is deeply hidden, so well contructed that you don't consciously process it.
"Sonsuvbiches, Bumpises!" -- Christmas Story. I really like this movie. It's great and the father, who reminds me of my father, uses Yosemite Sam profanities: Stickle fifer! (In that regard, my father was not G or PG) You really don't pick up on it, as they distort other curse words throughout, "f--u---d---g---e! Only, I didn't say fudge. I said the Queen Mother of dirty words; the f dash dash dash word."

tele-idiot

or "boob tube"

On many channels when they play a movie they will nicely, though briefly show you a rating ex: PG, with letters underneath to hint at the content.
Some movies, it would seem, should have the alphabet under them.
D rugs
V iolence
L anguage
N udity
S exual situation

Okay.... why is this on regular TV? Moreover ... how can a movie be PG-13 and have DLVSN ? Who's doing the ratings here? I know that the PG movies when I was younger were ... let's say not PG, but PG-13. That makes sense.

Also, how can you censor language, to make it suitable for TV, but leave offensive jokes in it. It's okay if we call Black persons, N____, or insult Jews, but we can't use damn or (rhymes with "hit"). I think the jokes should be cut if the language is cut.

industrial devolution

And I wasn't even at the drive through ...

This year looks like better health year for those around me, but the machines around are dying.
My folks had 3 appliances die: dryer right before my father went in for surgery, freezer soon after, refridgerator after that. His HD on his old computer died a couple of weeks ago, then his speakers -- after he had his computer fixed with a new HD.

In my case: my alternator died (note previous posts), my computer mouse died. Although I have a laptop ... I like the convenience of the mouse, especially with the scroll wheel.

My sister's car was not working (head gasket ruined) and they were looking for cars ... good luck!

What I do have: My father, my family, my uncle who was discharged from hosptial yesterday after a 2-wire defibulator was installed. I have friends: Cerpicio has had surgeries over the course of a year, Lori who has had many different ailments, and my limited illness this year.

I think I'd rather take the pain of financial loss and the anguish of paying for repairs than to lose family or friends. I still feel screw'd at times.

penalty for failure is death

I copied files onto this CD, then I looked at the CD ... nothing was on it

I was, a bit, annoyed

predicting the future

I haven't had a ticket in several years ....
My prediction: in around 16 months ... speeding ticket

They'll raise my rates and say ... bad boy ... good money ... thanks!

My idiocy of renaming things

I often rename things out of disrespect or as it is worthy.
There once was a store named Service Merchandise, but I called it Merchandise, because you certianly weren't getting any service there.
I used to work there and at Walletbuster (Blockbuster Video). "Sir. Sir? Could I please get a membership, pay more money for each rental and get screwed on late fees and pesterd on the phone about them, please?" "No!"
Strange enough, Rod Woodson, of the Pittsburgh Steelers is from Indiana and had applied for a membership. I had to deny him due to lack of ID. He was, then at Purdue.
Hillcrest ... biggoted manager who directed all application takers to fold a corner of any non-white applicant. Money-pinching #$&%$^ !!!! He died of a heart attack, I think.
Walletbuster ... head manager ... biggoted and nuts. I thought the Hillcrest manager was nuts til I met a person who didn't like the flavor of oxygen --- hardly saw her without a cigarette in the mouth.
Another place ... ______ Fire Protection. One manager there was a bigot and a womanizer. He reported to me that the allegations of spousal abuse --- assault were false. I stupidly believed him. Lo and behold ... his second significant other charged him with the same thing --- no, no, no ... you see ... that's all lies!
The [insert homosexual duragatory here] was really friggin odd. We had a lame meeting in Indy and I lef the hotel room to get ice, or some damn fool thing. I got back, knocked and the guy's in his underwear, walking around.
"What? It's just my underwear."
(think ... did not pack nuclear explosive nor gun with silencer)
After the lame meeting, he thought bar shopping might be good. I knew of Broadripple. We went there and the last place we went was on the verge of gay Paris.

I think livid is the term here.

anyway ... got back unmolested and not needing to kill ... at that time.
I have a habit of altering names ... such as those above. I also commonly refer to Best Buy as Worst Buy, because the prices stink ... their service is absent (not tardy) not enrolled, and their specials -- rebates at 6 months in waiting.
I refer to Taco Bell as Taco Hades (not the humor) ... sadly, in a class I referred to this place as Taco Hades, having then to rename it. Thank goodness I don't have a more profain name for it.

When I have tried to find Walletbuster in the phone book, I was once looking under "W"
Thankfully, those around me are growing used to these stupidities. I think, certainly most agree that Blockbuster is Walletbuster ... charging you too much, whenever, however they can.

In a previous post I mentioned courtesy and not making others work on significant holidays. Do the lowly workers a favor -- don't rent or shop for movies ON Christmas Day. They have to work, but the CEOs don't. Don't make them work, while you look through shelves of nothing because everything good is already gone. Then don't go complaining to them, because they shouldn't listen to your criping because your lame butt didn't think of that before.

I never thought that, although I don't suffer schizophenia, that I would commonly use neologisms. They are hardly unique to schizophenics, but are generally less-well used. It's truly one if you negate knowledge of the original and true word/name.

suffering mental blog

What important thing happened today ...
was sent friend's blog address
got armed and operational clown car

got several hugs from kids --- they're so sweet!
Played town marshal -- in that they were restless and were more interested in talking than anything else.
My got his computer back ... new HD
The "Geek Squad" of note / fame were not able to get the data off the drive, not that they put forth a whole lot of effort there.

They supplied about as much effort as Walletbuster (Blockbuster Video) did for MR and I when we sought to get a video.
Wait ... wait ... wait...

Sith

The Sith have abilities that some call, unnatural.
Yeah... I can see that. Those dang wussie Jedi can only jump 30' in the air ... toss enemies the same distance, catch Sith lightning in your hand, tell others what to say ... you know, natural talents.

S.W.A.T.

should have shot.

A great kid told me that around her are drug dealers. The SWAT made a sting and multiple arrests, but they were out on bail within hours. I say, "Fire!"

I am thinking of the immoral command by the southern Union Major to set fire to the town in Glory. Sergent, command your men to set fires on ...
in the one case, it is illegal to fire on drug dealers, on the other hand -- they have no business living, I therefore condone murdering drug dealers, buyers alike. Are drugs illegal? Yes. Is it an institution where innocents are hurt, and they have no choice in the matter? Yes. Do I shed a tear about people who just wanted to get high? No.
I think that the many people supporting the US work in Iraq and Afghanistan applying lethal force to aggressors, should also support lethal force to those committing illegal acts: murder, rape, drugs, etc. The question should not be: Should they be executed? It should be: How slowly should they, or over how much time will they be punished until they are slain. I am a vindictive person, but see no value in torturing felons. Certainly their crimes demand punishment and some are so heinous, torture would be a perfunctory thought, but killing them outright is better.

Is there a 100% guarantee that an incarcerated person will not escape ... that has been proved wrong. Do dead people tend to threaten others or do the dead tend to commit more crimes? No.
It is a safety issue. Would I live next to a drug dealer or murderer or other felon, intentionally? No. Would I make it possible that the police knew where the person was, what they were doing? Yes. A notable exception to this was when I was with X and there was a house that had a vast number of 90 second visitors. I would hazard to guess that there was some business there, but it wasn't hair-cutting or cookie baking. X wasn't smart enough to find her way out of a bag sometimes, so putting her in jeopardy was not in my interest.

When we looked at that house, she went on about how stupid Mexicans were. That was so nice as the woman who was selling it, there in the room with us was second generation American from Mexico. X was stupid. I was more stupid for being with her.

death of a paycheck

I dropped off my car to be checked, whether the battery was why my car wouldn't stay running or else. It was not the battery said Auto Zone who nicely, free of charge, charged it and did an analysis ... taking 4 hours. It was 8, and they weren't going to put it back in that night (though open until 9). I got there at 8 in the morning, but they weren't open.... wait, wait, wait...
8:20 some one flies in with keys ... others were there, but they couldn't / didn't do the register.
I got my battery back, but had to install it myself ... ya!

I drove it a short distance to a garage ... diagnosis --- alternator is shot. They tried for a while to find one. They did find one in Indy -- perhaps would be there the next day.

The estimate --- $350 about. That is about the value of the car ... great!

I will have to find a replacement for the vehicle this year, I suspect.