Category Archives: Personal/Opinion

Who Are We?

I think I have mentioned I read a lot. It’s the way I cope, living day to day in Trump world.  Lately I have developed a curiosity about things that are existential and philosophical.  Probably a big waste of my time.  I should be watching sports on TV.  I like to read about evolution, and books about that topic will inevitably ask the big questions, Who am I and Where did I come from and How did I come to be here?  Well shit, I know who I am, at least I know my own name.  And I came from hard working parents who were raised in the the corn belt with midwestern values and settled and raised their family in a very conservative western, overwhelmingly white, state.  I never saw a black person in my home town and it was not until I went to college in Omaha that I had any contact with members of that race.  And I am embarrassed to say that in spite of having absolutely no interaction with a black person, when I was young I had prejudices against them that were of course unfounded and ridiculous.  Those misconceptions were a product of my father, a member of the “Greatest Generation,” the generation that saved the world from Naziism but paradoxically had engrained in it feelings about black society that ranged from prejudicial naiveté, as was the case with my father, to outright hateful bigotry.

Stupid Dicks

But I grew, matured, and became aware of racial/social injustice, and believed that, slowly but surely, as a country we were progressing likewise.  And so It is upsetting to me to see something so disconnected from American principles like we all witnessed in Charlottesville Virginia earlier this month.  I know who I am.  But who are these stupid dicks and where in hell did they come from?  Those are the big questions I have.  What was striking to me and particularly alarming as well was the fact that the white supremacist faction during this demonstration was pretty much all young men.  What I expect to see at these supremacy gatherings are old farts, men my age who still have not been able to cast aside the prejudices of their fathers.  I see far more men of the generation behind me participating in these nefarious demonstrations.  It is a generation that by now should have a better grasp of racial issues and  a more flourishing respect for humanity.  I can’t help feeling that instead of our society evolving forward with more understanding and compassion, it is slipping backward and becoming  more prejudicial and tribal.

I seriously doubt the morons carrying tiki torches and screaming racial and religious insults were in Charlottesville to express disapproval of removing a statue.  They were there to foment trouble and express hatred.  And yes there were those with an opposing viewpoint that felt it was important to take a stand and physically confront the rabble of white supremacists.  Certainly that is regrettable.  But to say there was a moral equivalency between the two groups, as did our ignorant, unhinged president, is absurd.  One side was spewing racial and religious hatred and the other had members among it that became lamentably but understandably incensed enough to react.

Perhaps people should take some time off from their busy programs of harassment and give serious thought to role reversal.  Envision a time gone by where your white ancestors were abducted from a far away land, chained together and stuffed on slave ships for a couple of months, forced to labor in a foreign country of ruling blacks, and were whipped, raped, mutilated, hung and abused in every way imaginable,   Of course there were no legal repercussions for any of the atrocities because slaves were considered property and in the eyes of a slave holder had little connection to humanity.  And lets say after a bit of time a large segment of the black population decided there should be an end to all the cruelty, but another segment of the black population decided it was not about to relinquish its peculiar institution of inhumane conduct and thus raised an army that initiated a treasonous war with the intension of governmental separation.  Then that war took the lives of over a half million of the country’s black men, but as horrible as it was, at least it once and for all put an end to the practice of white enslavement.  And imagine that even though slavery was officially abolished, a good percentage of blacks maintained an erroneous sense of superiority over the white race, accompanied with practices of intimidation, and inaugurating upon it one indignity after another.  You can bet as time moved along the white population would not appreciate seeing any kind of reminder about that scandalous past.

To those legitimately  participating in this demonstration or any other for sentimental or historical reasons and think it is important to save these statues, personally I would not argue your point.   Save all those statues of Confederate soldiers, but put them in museums all around the county and attach to each a narrative that explains what the Confederate South in America stood for, which was slavery, intolerance, and an appalling example of man’s inhumanity towards his fellow man.  It is indeed important to save history, but it is just as important to remember it.

 

 

 

 

Shelter

Are you ready for some FOOTBALL?!  Autumn is close approaching, so it’s that time of year you know.  But are you ready for some FALLOUT?!  Armageddon is just around the bend, so you might want to prepare.  Have you stocked up on bottled water?  How about your basement?  You could be living down there for a bit, so you should think about making it comfortable.  I wouldn’t delay sealing off your basement  windows much longer.   Home Depot is already running out of cinder-block.  Damn I just thought of something.  I don’t have any kind of generator.  It’s football season for Pete sakes. I simply must have ESPN access.  I know for a fact the NFL is not about to let a little nuclear attack interrupt its cash flow.   My big screen is in the basement at least, so I’m in good shape there.  But if my only electric power source is a gas- fired generator, do I have to step outside to fill it up?  Maybe I can trick my wife into taking care of that.

What else should I get?  Of course I need some snacks.  I really like those lime chips.  I want to reserve all my generator output for my TV, so I probably can’t afford the power drain of a refrigerator.  It would be nice to have ice for my scotch, but there are worse things.  Of course I have plenty of scotch on hand.  Geezuz I hope you’re not one of those dumb bastards that’s never prepared for a scotch emergency.  I have a shower in my basement, but I have no idea how long I’ll have running water, so my guess is it could get kind of stinky down there.  Do you think two cases of Febreze will do?  And while I’m on the subject of stink, what about taking a dump?  How do you handle that?  Sure I have a toilet in my basement, but again it’s bound to stop flushing at some point.  I think what is commonly recommended is a bunch of buckets.  So I’ll get some of those. But at some point you have to empty them, right?  Son of a bitch!  I suppose I’ll have to be the one to quick-step outside and take care of that.  It’s just fair.  My wife handles the generator and I take care of the squat buckets.  If you know anything about marriage, a stable one is all about compromise.  Please don’t let my neighbor know I’ll be  emptying my buckets over the fence.

The bad thing is there won’t be football on all the time, so I need some other form of entertainment. My wife and I aren’t terribly fond of card games.  But we both really enjoy reading.  At least we have plenty of books.  It would be nice if the two dip shits that seem intent on doing all they can to get us into this mess were so inclined An Incurious President

Relativity

I’m 70 years old today!.  Everyone says that’s just impossible, that I don’t look a day over 50.  OK.  It’s Trump-speak.  Alternative fact. The word Everyone should be more like “Everyone,” in quotes, which would then more accurately qualify the statement to include only those enduring nuclear cataracts and acquaintances afflicted with insufferable niceness.  But still, looks aren’t everything.  Sure I’m losing hair in areas desired and growing it in places that seem counter evolutionary.  And the leathered skin on the backs of my hands has all the look of a Slinky in motion whenever I rotate a wrist.  I’m considering an upgrade from bifocals to tris as well as another new knee, and what the fuck is that little lump doing on the inside of my calf.  But guess what?  My gut might be expanding, but so is my brain capacity.  I know some shit.  Inside my head is a treasure trove of facts and ideas straining to escape. After 70 years of storage, it’s difficult to contain it all.

Contemplating on Lake Tipsy

For instance, did you know a ten gallon hat will only hold 3/4 of a gallon.  Is that a bunch of shit or what?  And during your lifetime you will create enough saliva to fill a couple of good-sized swimming pools.  That means if you hang around your local western wear store for a few days you could fill up one of those ten gallon hats.  Serves those bastards right for dicking us over for so many years.

I Have an Axe & Know How to Use It

King Henry VIII slept with a gigantic axe beside him. Maybe you don’t find that surprising since the guy was known to have ended a marriage or two by utilizing the instrument.  You would think any of his wives that still had their heads attached would have considered the practice a bit odd though.  But I bet you didn’t  know I sleep with an axe too.  Well, not all the time.  Just when I’m camping.  And I guess you wouldn’t call it gigantic.  It’s my camping hatchet.  So far my wife hasn’t voiced any concerns. Another thing.  Besides the hatchet on one side of my bedroll, I sleep with an ice pick on the other.  Consider this knowledge fair warning if you have intentions of sneaking up on me in the middle of the night.

As you might have guessed  I’m very much an outdoorsy kind of guy, so I know a lot of stuff about the animal kingdom too.  Billy goats urinate on their heads, and birds don’t urinate at all.  A flock of crows is not called a flock.  It is called a “murder.”  Look it up if you don’t believe me. Every human spends a half hour as a single cell, thus we are basically related to early protists like amoeba.  Moving up slightly on the evolutionary ladder are the multi cellular Coelenterates which  encompasses the animal phyla Cnidaria, although the validity of this classification is disputed since the relationship with it and the Ctenophora is not as distinct as once thought.  But all you really need to know about Coelenterates is since they use their solitary orifice as both a mouth and anus, it has been determined it is from this phyla from which Donald Trump has descended.

I know a lot of science too, and not just piddly stuff.  I’m talking about complicated shit, like relativity.  E=mc2 my friend.  If I wanted I could explain this to you, but it took Einstein himself  an entire day to explain it to a bunch of smarty pants physicists back in 1905, and I haven’t got all day.  To make it simple for you I’ve come up with my own postulation about relativity. Observe the following:

       where R represents basic relativity, meaning relatives of the in-law dimension, god I hope you know what the two parallel lines mean,   in this case means a regular pie that you might eat, not that math equivalent of 3.14, (although coincidentally that was the number of pies my uncle Ralph ate years ago at the church pie-eating contest right before he collapsed with a cholesterol induced myocardial infarction)  and of course even you can figure out what a sad faced emoji represents.

Since they likely have no clear understanding of the physical laws and adaptations required in their new world order, I usually take a moment to explain my theory to any incoming fellow in-law. The other day I sat down and did just that with the most recent in-law addition, Steve, and though his mind tends to wander on occasion I think he finally has a decent grasp of how the whole thing works.  In it’s simplest terms, what the equation postulates is that at any point in time, there exists the probability of an in-law of any dimension shoving a pie in your face.  I derived my theory back in 2002 at the Old Mill laboratory on Green Lake MN.  That’s when my sister-in-law Kim smeared my face with a piece of chocolate cake.  Since this is my theory, I have  taken the liberty to incorporate both pie and cake into the symbol  .  If you feel there are other variables that should be included in my pie/cake symbol, let me know and maybe we can work something out.  I heard Nikki once threw a worm at my fellow brother-in-law Jim in the fishing boat, but it never hit him in the face, so obviously that would never survive scientific scrutiny.

The best thing about my theory is there is an applicable companion one that  I call the Inverse Theory of Relativity.  It is represented by this equation:

     where every variable is the same as it is in my Regular Theory of Relativity, except that the sad faced emoji is replaced with a happy faced emoji  because it is my face when I blasted Kim’s face with piece of chocolate cake in 2012 at the Long Climb House on Green Lake.  You can not help but conclude from both of my theories there seems to be some kind of evolutionary displacement of pie by cake going on in the universe.  I don’t know for sure if this is related to climate change, but rest assured I intend to get to the bottom of it all.  I have deep affection for pie and would hate to see anything bad happen to it.

No researching slouch himself, here you see my nephew neck deep in some scientific inquiry of his own on the beach at Green Lake.

As you can see I’m a pretty deep thinker and obviously don’t just sit around doing nothing.  Ok I do take a nap daily but that’s because there’s a lot of neuro-electrical activity going on and the generator has to be recharged.  I realize there’s a good chance you might not be so equipped, so you probably don’t  understand.  If you ever want to achieve my level of intelligence by the time you are 70, it might be a good idea if you stop wasting your time reading shit like this and open up a book* for a change. Trust me it’s not going to kill you.

In parting, let me just say if you leave everything to the last minute…it will only take a minute.  And worms taste like fried bacon.

*Should you be interested in other compelling information like this, buy my book “Fishing with Bobby and Mike” you cheap bastard.  Geezus you’ve got Amazon Prime by now don’t you?

 

Our Most Supreme Scout Master Has Cerebral Melt-Down

Is this guy for real?  Every time I think Trump can not possibly be any more shallow, he finds another way to drain the pond.  This son of a bitch is absolutely nuts.  Seriously.  There is something wrong with a person who is so completely absorbed with himself.  And nothing gives him a boner like a crowd of cooperative people, his most recent mark being a huge gathering of teen age boy scouts attending a Jamboree.   Of course none of them can even vote, but that didn’t stop our megalomaniacal president  from turning the event into one of his ego-stroking campaign orgies.  I think he was even surprised by the chorus of jeers and cheers he got whenever he pulled something from his bag of trigger words and phrases.  It is truly a sad day in America when the president of the United States thinks manipulating a group of pubescent boys into a chanting frenzy by denigrating a predecessor is setting an appropriate example of patriotism.  It’s the Boy Scouts of America!  They are supposed to be out there promoting God, country, and civic duty, but president shit-for-brains just could not resist the temptation to provoke the impressionable group into giving him one of his adulatory orgasms and in the process humiliate them and the entire organization.  The man is absolute pond-scum.  And that also goes for the ass-kissing members of his cabinet standing right behind him and encouraging him with their shit-eating grins.

I was a boy scout, loved being a part of it and learned a lot from participating.  Fortunately I was never subjected to any maniacal  rantings by a flakey adult.  The organization has a law.  It begins “A scout is:” and after that is just twelve words. Here they are: Trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, reverent.  It might be smart if the scout leaders of each troop in attendance do some recon when they get home and suggest the youngsters do their best to purge their brains of the self-angrandizing and incendiary rhetoric uttered by Trump at this Jamboree.  It should be easy to make their point.  Do you see any of these attributes in Donald Trump?  Maybe “clean,” but only because he is a paranoid germaphobe.  If you could be prosecuted for violating the Boy Scout Law, Trump would get a life sentence in a federal prison.

I wonder what is upcoming on the Trump quasi campaign trail?  If he sees a huge gathering of migratory geese resting along a river bank while he is flying in Air Force One, he’s likely to instruct the pilot to land so he can go tell his feathered friends what a smashing victory he had in Wisconsin.  I heard there is a national Girl Scout conference scheduled in a few months, and boy would he love to weasel in a speaking invite there.  Mom’s, if you have even the slightest inclination that might happen, and any knowledge at all of previous Trump behavior towards young women,  you might want to consider tagging along on this one.  Of course you must be ever vigilant lest you be grabbed yourself.

 

 

On Putin and Parenting

Well here we go again.  From all appearances it seems Donald Trump Jr just pulled off the bone-head move of the political decade and once again the resulting stink from a disjointed White House has all of us anti-Trumpers giddy with anticipation.  Surely this is finally going to motivate any  principled Republican in congress to admit enough is enough.  But I’ve learned not to get my hopes up.  In fact, hang onto your hats folks because on the horizon will be some of the most creatively entertaining political spin Conway, Spicer, and Huckabee Sanders have ever produced.  And remarkably our elected sycophants will continue to enable a man who has no business in the Oval Office.

Ooopsie!

Politics has become so polarized in this country this is where we have landed.  Wave after wave of alarming events pound the shoreline of our consciousness until rock solid principles of democracy and decency are pulverized into grains of indifference.  Instead of considering Junior’s behavior disturbing, defenders are treating it as if it was little more than a glass of spilled milk.  Just a simple mistake by a neophyte.  “Most people would take that meeting” says the President of the United States.

What in the hell have we become?  Put the idiocy and collusion surrounding this episode aside for a moment and just look at the computer hacking aspects.   What keeps getting lost every time one of these mind-bending stories surfaces is the fact there was Russian interference in our election process.  Geezuz H the country has been attacked and this administration is perfectly happy doing nothing about it.  The internet corruption that went on here is not much less frightening than the danger posed by the nut job in North Korea.  You could say what Russia managed to get away with so far is cyber sniper fire.  Besides fomenting fake stories on the internet, they hacked the election system computers in 21 states.  What’s to stop them from pushing the envelope.  It is not out of the realm of possibility that with the tapping of a few keystrokes they could accomplish the near equivalent of a nuclear missile strike- disabling a huge section of our electrical power grid.  They already have their foot in the door  Russia hacks U.S. Nuclear Power Plant  The results would be very similar to a nuclear missile attack. If you are interested in some shit-scary observation about this, read Ted Koppel’s book “Lights Out.”  

Ask the county what their number one fear is and half will say terrorism. Maybe you think it’s a stretch to say that election tampering by an adversarial foreign government is terrorism, but should all the lights go out and hospital ventilators stop functioning and gas pumps quit working, you might concede early intervention might have been helpful.   We know Russia meddled in our democratic process.  The point I am trying to make is we need to direct our  focus on the larger issue.  The reason all these investigations are going on is it is extremely important we find out if any American citizens were involved because they are either guilty of obstruction of Justice or possibly treason, or stunning and dangerous ignorance, all of which  might well serve to accelerate a more heinous foreign agenda. Robert Mueller is likely to expose Trump’s shifty business practices as well, especially if tax returns are subpoenaed, but the president has no one to blame but himself for that investigation.  A cyber war catastrophe in this country is just as likely to occur as a nuclear one.  Why so many people have chosen to regard this Russian intrusion with casual indifference is beyond me.

Most people would take that meeting?  Most people in the Trump family maybe.  Most normal people would contact the authorities.

I can not help thinking  how we have just circled back to the very beginning.  Of course before Trump got elected we had no inkling of how he would govern. Right after he became president I think the majority of us thought the guy should at least be given a chance.  That did not last long in my case.  If you are like me and have nothing better to do than sit on your ass all day, see my previous blog  https://www.asiteforsoreguys.com/gaslighting  .  As time has progressed, about the only consistent thing we are seeing from this administration is what a total clusterfuck it is.  Our democracy is certainly being put to the test.  Undoubtedly it will survive this shit-storm, but if congress is to get anything of substance accomplished its members had better pull their collective heads out of their asses and mitigate the damage.  Get a spine and tell the president he needs to quit deflecting, take responsibility, and start cooperating.  Hopefully Trump’s recent veiled threat against Robert Mueller if he investigates the president’s family business ties will raise your democratic hackles.

However, what we do know now that we knew from the very beginning of the campaign season is how bereft of moral character Donald Trump Sr. is.  Unfortunately it seems obvious what Senior considers good parenting is to make sure the polarity of Junior’s moral compass is as discharged as his is.  “It must be magic to raise children in a household where probity has no meaning.”  That’s a perfect quote from the editorial page of a Cincinnati newspaper.  What Donald Jr. did by biting on the bait offered by Rob Goldstone was reprehensibly wrong, plain and simple.  So comically ironic is the fact that Junior, in the process of defending himself on this very issue,  only made things worse by telling yet another blatant lie- on Sean Hannity’s show no less.   He can attempt to put any spin he wants on all of this, and god knows he’s been out there twirling his best, but it does not matter.  It is obvious the orange does not fall far from the tree.

I know Trump’s most entrenched supporters will believe this is acceptable behavior, that to them the end justifies any kind of means, and the staunchest congressional Republicans will keep deflecting.  But you can not defend the indefensible.  The “family values” plank of the Republican party platform was removed and shoved through a wood chipper the minute it accepted Donald Trump as its candidate.  The man always was and will continue to be a completely amoral narcissist, a whining liar, and as we are now witnessing,  an incompetent leader.  He believes his suspect values are the only proper ones and obviously those are the ones he has instilled in his children.   Every member of congress has  intrusive knowledge of this conduct on a day to day basis.  Maybe the general public has become numb to it. But congressional members have no excuse.  They are directly exposed, and by continuing to enable this president they are displaying a shameful example to their own children.

“Botched collusion is still collusion.”  Charles Krauthammer, syndicated columnist, Washington Post

“Russia is the one country that could physically destroy America,”  Steven Pifer, Former U.S. Ambassador to Ukraine

“Release your tax returns Mr. Twitterbitch,”  me and 224 million Americans.

 

 

Anniversary

I’m up on my roof.  I’m here because this is where my wife sent me.   She noticed some debris had collected between two gables and was sure I was just the one who could take care of that problem.  Between those two gables is a trapezoidal section covered with flashing and is fairly flat, so it is a natural staging area for fallen twigs and leaves to rest.  I am always hopeful  Mother Nature  will sweep them away with a succession of her bouts of stormy temper before my wife notices them.  She is a stickler for detail.  She’s not obsessive-compulsive or anything.  It’s just that there are some particular things that she feels important for appearances sake.  If the pleat of  a bed skirt is not lying flat, a throw pillow out of place, or there are dead bugs inside the opaque cover of an outdoor light fixture, it will get her attention.  And sometimes her concerns eventually mean more work for me.  Unfortunately one of those times is right now because the proper weather patterns never materialized to save me from this death-defying mission.

My work is done.  I managed to knock down all the twigs and leaves without participating  in their decent. Since the incline is minimal in this spot, I feel safe though.  Actually it’s kind of cool here.  I can stand, or I can sit down and rest my ass on the steeper part of the roof and let my mind wonder reflectively, or better yet, scan the neighborhood and mentally make fun of people I see walking around.  You get a different perspective up here.  I have a six foot fence that surrounds most of my back yard, and naturally that inhibits a lot of human interaction.  And that’s the whole point of a six foot fence really.   I don’t care to know your business, and I sure as hell don’t want you nosing around in mine.  Geez, there’s my next door neighbor strutting around without a shirt on again.  My wife hates that.  Usually there’s an accompanying  episode or two of plumber’s crack she feels she has do endure.  I keep telling her she doesn’t have to look at it. Change the channel for Pete’s sake.  But my wife was raised with a strong sense of right and wrong, and coursing  through all of it is a very elevated expectation of common decency.

Man I didn’t realize how nice the neighbor’s yard is behind me.  It used to be little more than a stark testament to what man can accomplish when he completely gives up on ambition- discarded containers and tires strewn throughout the yard, piles of dog shit on the patio, and every once in awhile the smell of a dead animal rotting away in the total concealment of weeds that were knee-high.  That new guy really got the place in shape.  Next to him lives a short, chubby guy who I have been told is an ambulance chasing  attorney and is a total asshole.  That’s the story circulating in the neighborhood anyway.  He has some great power tools though.  He’s always firing something up and waking me from my  afternoon nap. That strikes my wife as being inconsiderate.  If there is one word to describe my wife it’s considerate.  Champion of the underdog.  God don’t get her started on the plight of the Native American, unless you’re game for a rousing psychological bitch slapping.

Then right next to the attorney is-  you know I don’t know who lives there.  But next to that house live the Wamplers.  The boys are a handful and I can’t say I appreciate all the discharged bottle rockets I find in my backyard during the first week of every July.  Old man Wampler is a character though.  He is a neighborhood philosopher of sorts, likes to hand out unsolicited advice, and will surprise with a folksy saying every once in awhile.  One time when he was walking by my house we got engaged in a conversation about vacations we have taken and he made a point of emphasizing how important it was to take one by stating, “No matter what, once every year I pack up all my kids that aren’t in jail and just head out of town.”  That’s a sentiment that somehow just sticks with you.     

   Little Bobby Wampler Pictured Here the Day After Last Year’s Wampler 4th of July Celebration

Well enough of the contemplation.  It’s time to think about getting off of my roof.  Damn I forgot about this part.  At some point I have to scoot backwards to get onto my ladder.  If you think that’s easy, well eat shit.  Except for the section I was resting on, my roof is a series of 45 degree pitches.  God I hate this.  My wife would calm me down if she were up here.  I tend to get all panicky if I’m not reasonably certain of an outcome.  But my wife is forever the optimist, her cup always half full, although this Trump business is wearing on her a bit. It’s almost refreshing to hear her complain about something.  I love that woman.  Holy shit! You know what I just remembered?  It’s my wedding anniversary.

Ordinarily I’m not the romantic type.  I can safely say no one who knows me would argue that point.  I don’t mean to sound like I’m proud of it or anything.  It’s just the way I am.  I suppose I could put more effort into that factor of the relationship equation.  But through the years I’ve managed to convince my wife all  holidays are just a capitalistic scam and if we are smart we should always forgo the pretentiousness.  Basically my feeling is neither of us should have to explain ourselves.  We know how we feel.  For Pete’s sake we’ve put up with each other for 46 years so obviously we are not lacking in communications skills.

That’s me.  Is that wrong?  Right now I’m beginning to think so.  It’s not that I don’t appreciate my wife.  She is a remarkable woman. She’s thoughtful, bright, loving, generous, patient, and holy cow is she a thorough housekeeper.  Very methodical.  And organized.  How did I get so lucky.  Now I kind of feel like a dick.  I don’t know what I’d do without her.

    My Wife is a Housekeeping Wizard

Sometimes we banter about who will die first.  If that topic comes up, it’s usually because we have just reflected on the genetic background of our respective families.  Since my mother is 98 and remarkably spry, we inevitably conclude that I would be the winner.  That’s if you believe there is victory in living longer.  But in fact I would be the loser in our situation.  I have to go out first.  I can’t figure out that damn dishwasher.  And the washing machine?  Just forget about it.  All those cycles and nobs and settings.  Bunch of unnecessary  manufacturer’s  hubris if you ask me.  It might end for me in a few minutes if I and my aluminum ladder make contact with those power lines attached to my house.  With my luck though the only thing I’d take down would be the cable TV service. Then I’d be lying in bed all crippled up without any television.  That would really suck.

Shit I hate being up here.  If I make it back to earth I swear I’ll turn over a new leaf.  I’m going to hop in my car and go get my wife an anniversary card, one that is overflowing with syrupy romanticism.  And a present too.  I think she’d really enjoy a box of Swiffers.   I don’t know what they are, but she is always raving about them.

So, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY SWEATHEART!  I LOVE YOU VERY, VERY MUCH. Now please call the fire department and see if they can send someone to get me down from here.

Also, if you believe I’m up here on this roof with my lap top you’re kind of a dumb shit.  If you can’t figure out how I wrote this you’ll have to go ask someone who is a little more perceptive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Isolation Shield

     

President Trump has established a Monday morning tradition of meeting with Kellyanne Conway and Steve Bannon to review news reports from the  weekend.  This is a transcript of a tape recording from the meeting of Monday 6/5/2017 that was made unwittingly by the president when he accidentally hit “record” on the office entertainment system while he was trying to figure out how to watch a DVD he made of himself dancing.  The recording was discovered by a maintenance technician and has been subpoenaed as evidence related to the Mueller investigation.

***Sound of door opening and closing and shuffling feet***

      

TRUMP:  Good morning.

CONWAY and BANNON:  Good morning sir.

TRUMP:  What have you got for me?  I watched Fox all evening.  I wish Hannity had been on. He should be on more, like twelve hours a day.  I think Fox should think about that.  He has a great, tremendous program.  Lots of people like him.  Like, many people.

CONWAY:  That’s so true sir.  I love that guy.  Well, I channel surfed all evening and didn’t come up with much that’s new, although there was that commentary on DC channel 12.  It was on pretty late so you might have seen it after watching Fox.

TRUMP:  No. I’m tired of watching fake news.  I stuck with Fox all night.

CONWAY:  Well sir, the story was sort of a documentary, and it basically named you the most obtuse president in the entire history of the country.

TRUMP:  WOW!  The most!  Well you know I’m a winner Kellyanne.  I never lose.  Always a winner.  And it was a documentary thing.  That’s good.  Not just some reporter blowing hot air?

CONWAY:  No sir.  It was an hour long documentary.  A  lot of prestigious people contributed.  But I’m not sure you understan…

TRUMP:  Who’s my competition?  I beat out Obama, right?  I must have.

CONWAY:  Yes sir, by a mile.  But…

TRUMP:  That’s perfect.  How ’bout Washington, or Lincoln?

CONWAY:  Not even close.

TRUMP:  All right.  Things are looking up.  I don’t need any more bad news.  I just don’t want to hear any more bad news!  Bad news- NO, NO uh-uh. No more. I think we should really run with this ah, obstruse thing.  How do you suppose this got started, I mean, what put me over the top?

CONWAY:  Oh I’m pretty sure it was an accumulation of things, but my guess is it was backing out of the climate change agreement that propelled you into first place.

TRUMP;  I knew that was a good idea.  Tillerson said we should stay in, but I just knew leaving was the right thing to do.  I have a knack for calling the right shots.  Intinct, Kellyanne, instinct.  That’s what it is.  I have a natural feel for things.  I knew I was going to win the election.  I won by a lot too.  Biggest electoral win since Reagan.  It was huge.  You know that.  I might have to think about firing Tillerson. Ok.  So how can we take advantage of this.  I mean, can we do anything else to really, like, slam the door on it.  I don’t want any of those other guys sneaking up on me and  snatching this away.  Who’s the closest to me?  I know you might think I’m pushy, but I’m a competitor.  And a winner.  Always have been.

CONWAY:  Yes sir I do know that.   Well there’s Buchanan.  He kind of sat around and let the Confederacy take hold.  And Harding played poker all day while his friends plundered the U.S. Treasury.  Those two are right behind you.

TRUMP:  Buchanan and Harding.  Hmmm.  Can’t say I know much about them.  Did either of them play any golf?  I think we should watch out for Harding.  Sounds like he might have been a good deal-maker. He must have had some real loyal people on his team.  You reward people like that.  Loyalty-  very important, very important.  Just like you guys.  Loyalty is big, I mean really huge.  Actually though  it’s all that poker playing that really bothers me. You know about my casino’s.  Everyone knows it was all those ridiculous state regulations that, you know, that’s why I got out.  And look how I made out.  All those investors got stuck and I came out like a bitch.  I know what I’m doing.  It’s how I make deals.   It’s what I do. Now, the dishonest media might start some rumor that Harding would have been better at running casinos.  That just might be a problem.  I think we should come up with something to really cement this.  What do you think Steve?  Is there anything else we can come up with to make sure I hang onto this.

BANNON:  Oh sir, we’ve just got started.  I’ve got you covered, believe me.

TRUMP:  I know Steve.  I have all the confidence in the world in you.  You were right about the climate change deal.  I knew I could count on you.  Of course I was going to go down that road anyway.  I have that instinct thing-  it’s always there.  But you always watch my back.  I appreciate it.  So what ideas have you got?

BANNON:  Well there is a lot we can do on the European front.  We should probably keep pounding away at Germany- you should maybe make an announcement that anyone owning a BMW or Volkswagen has to ship it back to Germany.  And Macron could stand to be taken down a notch.  I know you think he’s a showboat anyway.

TRUMP:  Ya.  Showboat.  You got that right.  That handshake story- it’s just all fakey.  Fake news. He didn’t lock down on my hand.  I locked his hand up.  He couldn’t get away.  i had such a grip on his hand-  you can see it.  The dishonest media keeps saying what a tough guy he is. I was the one that had the tight grip, like a grip that was so strong and tremendously ah, grippy.  My grip is big league- everybody knows that.  A lot of people say I have the tightest grip like, they’ve ever seen, or ah, felt.  And you know Macron has a really old wife.  Not a ten like Malania. Or Ivanka.  That daughter of mine.  Is she hot or what?  Have you seen her in a swimsuit?  Those froggies don’t have women like we do over here.  I don’t care what they say.

CONWAY:  Melania is beautiful sir.  And of course Ivanka. She…

TRUMP:  You know you could be a ten Kellyanne.  You could!  You just get some of those breast implants- automatic ten.  That’s what it’s all about Kellyanne.  You have to have the breasts.  No tens without those.  Trust me.  Implants- you’d be a ten.

CONWAY:  You’re way too kind sir.

BANNON:  I have an idea I’ve been toying with for quite some time and I am starting to think this would really lock things up for you Mr. President.

TRUMP:  What’s that Steve?

BANNON:  Your tax returns.  Release them.

TRUMP and CONWAY:  ARE YOUR CRAZY!!

BANNON:  I know it’s a radical idea. But listen to me.  Most of the country wants you to do it.  Even half your base.  So right there you make them happy.  Then, when America gets a gander at the returns, we give it the old Trump spin and they will realize what a clever businessman you are by using Russian money to save your business, and then screwing the commies by overcharging them on real estate purchases and hiding the profits in those Cypriot banks. All of that without paying any income tax!  It’s the kind of thing your base will love you for.  And your detractors can only dream of being so financially astute. Their balls will wither from envy.  They won’t know what to do. It’s a complete win-win.  Of course we’ll have to pull Kislyak in and assure him it’s all part of the plan, but Putin knows there’s no way were going to screw him.

TRUMP:  Hmm.  Maybe your onto something there.  But I don’t know.  What about Ryan.  Say what you want, he’s been right out there hitting the dishonest media. He did a fantastic job getting it across that this government stuff is something new to me.  Release my tax records and I might lose Ryan.  I’m a smart business man.  Business.  It’s what I do. I make the best deals, the most tremendous, greatest deals.  He doesn’t understand business like I do and might think, like, I did something bad or something.  Can you believe that?  It’s business!  I have to admit this job’s been a little tougher than I thought.  But you can see I’m getting the hang of it.  I’m. like, a real smart person.  I know a lot of things.

CONWAY:  Yes sir.

BANNON:  Watching you work has been a real eye-opener sir.

TRUMP:  Thank you Steve.  But no, I think you’re wrong on this one.  It’s like a secret recipe, like Kentucky Fried Chicken.  You think Kentucky Fried wants their secret recipe out there for everyone to see.  No way Steve.  You know, I’m getting kind of hungry.

CONWAY:  Shall we take a break sir?

TRUMP;  Yes, I think we should.  I’m going to run down the hall and catch Whatshisname- have him make a McDonalds run.  You want anything?

CONWAY and BANNON:  No sir.

***Sound of shuffling feet and door opening and closing as Trump exits.***

CONWAY:  Should we keep playing him like this?  I’m starting to get nervous.

BANNON:  Kellyanne, come on!   Did you ever think it would be this easy? .  You’ve got to hang in there.  We are getting so close. We can ride the 38 percent into the next term.

CONWAY:  35 percent.  No way I was going to tell him the new number.

BANNON: OK.  35.  Still, we were sent here by them to burn the house down.  That’s the only way we can save it.   Besides, you heard him. You just admitted it yourself.  No more bad news.

CONWAY:  God I hope you know what you are doing.  Are you sure we need a wall along the Canadian border?

BANNON:  Come on.  I’ve explained this.  You said you are with me all the way.  You saw how I got him to work the solar panel conversation into the Mexican wall.  The left eats that crap up.  We just have to keep stroking him.  He loves walls.  You know that.  Strike while the iron’s hot!. We have a congress that’s nothing but a bunch of spineless jellyfish.  They are absolutely terrified of the guy.  It’s just too easy. The Isolation Shield is not just a dream now.  We have the technology and manipulative genius to keep foreigners out of the country and environmentalists out of our business- for good!  We can’t let up.

CONWAY:  I know you’re right.  What about Alaska and Hawaii though?  How are you going to extend the Shield’s electro magnetic field?

BANNON:  Hawaii could be a problem.  But most of those people aren’t true Caucasians.  Bunch of hula dancers and flaming baton twirlers.  I’ll be dropping subtle hints we should cut the whole place loose.  Revert it to Commonwealth status.  They caused nothing but problems when we introduced the travel ban anyway. That really snapped his strap.  And Alaska, are you kidding?  How many camel jockey’s are going to want to cause trouble in Alaska.  And anyone  from either state will be free to move about once they prove their white Christian status like the rest of us and have their radio frequency chip implanted.  Now remember.  The first full cabinet meeting is coming up soon.  Start spreading the word the president does not want any bad news  We want nothing but supplicant praise coming out of their mouths. And  you should get on Facebook and Twitter and start some rumors about  the turbulence from wind turbines causing cancer.  And when you have time throw something salacious out there about Harding-maybe make it look like he was involved in bestiality or something   That will make the president happy.  I’d do that one myself but I have to get cracking on getting Ginsberg off the bench.  It shouldn’t be that hard.  She’s just a sneeze away from a life-threatening pneumonia infection.  The Supreme Court and Muslim ban are within our grasp. Let’s get to work.

 

***Sound of shuffling feet, door opening and closing as Kellyanne and Steve exit***

INDEPENDENTCOMMENT:  Readers of this article should take note it might still be considered classified information.  You could face charges of treason should you share its content.  However,  keep in mind it is Mr. Bannon’s intention to let President Trump decide the insertion location of the the RF chips so mentioned above.  Legal consultants are therefore confident that any exposure to litigation will be non-existent, since a just review would most certainly reveal these actions to be an assault on human dignity,  which, many would concur, is an accurate characterization of many Trump policies as well as the man himself.  For the good of the country and protection of your loved ones, you simply must share.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scotland Residents Concerned About Trump Impeachment Rumors

Lightbart  News report by Doug Furr

In an unusual turn of events, many Scottish communities are suddenly worried about the  impeachment rumors swirling around President Trump.  Only a short time ago the current U.S. president was recognized as the most hated man in Scotland, usurping the position from Edward Longshanks, the most despised man in Scottish history,  The infamous achievement was brought about after Mr. Trump started a smear campaign of intimidation in order to bully local residents who objected to the golf course and gaudy clubhouse he built along the beach of the coastal town of Aberdeenshire.

After a recent national poll was taken however, the president fell all the way to third place, behind the aforementioned Longshanks and Phil Oxenbauls, historically rumored to be the person who disemboweled William Wallace.  Why the sudden down surge of unpopularity?  It all has to do with the economics of Scotland.   It seems the diminishment of Mr. Trump’s unfavorable standing  correlates to the increases in sales of scotch, the third largest industry in the country.  Ever since Donald Trump became president, U.S. sales of scotch have skyrocketed.

I recently paid a visit to Brokenwinde, a peaceful lowland  hamlet situated on Scotland’s eastern shore.  There I met up with Peter McDooglestein, president and CEO of H. McMac and Company, makers of McMac scotch whiskey. The company has a long history in the alcohol production business.  Peter’s great, great grandfather, Hyman McDooglestein, was the first Rabbi to settle in Scotland, and dabbled in Kosher wine making.  The business gradually expanded to include the production of scotch, and over time their scotch developed such a prestigious reputation it was decided the company would discontinue peripheral products and concentrate solely on its single malt.

H. McMac Company employs 94 people, almost a third of Brokenwinde’s population.  A mere three months ago there were only 37 employees.  Peter McDooglestein attributes the increase in hiring and fortune to Donald Trump.  Since his inauguration, Peter said that U.S sales of McMac scotch have increased ten-fold.  “I got no understandin’ of what that fella’s s up to, but ever since he took over I ken tell ya it’s been real good for me and most of us in Brokenwinde,” he emphatically explained.  “I sure hope ye good people keep him on fer awhile.  I hear he’s made some trouble, but ye know how it is.  Live next to a pig sty and ye git used to the smell of shit after a bit.”

Mention the word “Trump” and Brokenwinde natives often respond with a traditional Scottish salute.

After a tour of his distillery, Peter took me to a local tavern, where I sampled a dram or two of McMac over lunch.  It is a fine lowland scotch, with a solid nutty flavor and just a slight, peaty aroma..  I had just finished my last drink, when another, very offensive aroma, came whiffing about.  “Don’t ye worry thar me friend,” Peter said with a grin. “That aint yer president come visitin’.  I just had the need to have a blow under me kilt.”

Having been back in the states for a couple of weeks, I have to say Peter McDooglestein is at least partly right.  A lot of people really have adjusted well to the smell coming from Washington.  Does not seem to bother them at all.  As for me, I just can’t seem to get past all the stink.  I know it’s just me.  Just my constitution I suppose.  But as one layer of shit after another piles up in the Trump White House the stench is simply becoming personally intolerable.

If you are like me and you find yourself reflexively gagging from the odor emanating from the White House, you might find my solution to the problem useful- McMac scotch. I don’t want to make any promises, but I can tell you it gets me through the day.

 

 

 

Is There Dog Shit in Heaven?

One day in high school, I think it was during my sophomore year, a group of us were sitting around shooting the breeze when the subject of immortality came up.  The conversation eventually progressed to a discussion about whether or not a dog has a soul.  You should be aware that this was a Catholic boarding school for boys, Assumption Abbey in Richardton North Dakota, run by a dedicated bunch of Benedictine monks, so I suppose a topic was more likely to stray  from the hedonistic than at a typical public high school.  I’m not saying we were any better than those publicly educated.  Or smarter. I just think for good or bad the religiously educated are  inclined to have more thoughts with a theological bend. That’s all.  Plus at the Abbey about a third of the kids were seminary students, so the odds of one being included in your conversation were pretty good.  Though they were not undisposed to interject secular subjects, their good judgment tended to tamp down those that seemed to be spiraling toward the perverse.

Two of my best friends emerged as the flag bearers of each position. George, one of those seminary students, believed a dog did indeed have a soul.  Frank, whose general conduct at the time set the standard for someone who should never be allowed near a seminary, staunchly supported the negative argument.  I was in Frank’s camp, but not because he was a particularly good debater.  In fact Frank was our close class equivalent of the West Point Goat, the cadet who graduates last in his class.   With a military cadet, there is usually a lot of luck involved (as well as a some cash- the Goat collects a dollar from every cadet as a reward for the accomplishment).  You just hope after four years you hit the sweet spot academically and still graduate.  Probably the most famous West Point Goat was George Armstrong Custer* and he was no dummy.  He was a notorious prankster and it was all his demerits that earned him last place. That’s kind of how Frank operated.  He studied enough to get by, but knew when to back off and attend properly to his many troublemaking duties.

Frank Went Out of His Way to Make Sure Freshmen Felt Included During Welcome Week

I have to say Frank held his own, but the reason I agreed with him was what I recollected from grade school.  The nuns at Holy Name taught me only humans have souls and entered heaven.  No dogs allowed.  We didn’t seem to be evolving towards any satisfactory resolution in our debate, so it was ultimately decided that we should seek the council of a higher court, the Abbey principal, Fr. Francis.  He set us straight right off.  It turns out a dog does have a soul.  The catch is it’s not an immortal soul, like ours.  Because we can reason and shit I guess our soul is a lot better.  A dog’s soul falls short of the admission requirement into heaven.

Fr. Francis was very much esteemed in our circle, so I assumed his verdict would satisfy all parties.  I can’t think of another priest that exhibited a sense of fairness and could connect with his students like Fr. Francis.  The way he connected was with the knuckles of a clenched fist, unlike Fr. David who clobbered me with a four cell flashlight.  However, Fr. Francis’s involvement aside, Frank was not about to let the matter drop.

After a few days thinking on it, Frank did concede, but then elevated the logic to a new level and concluded that yes, a dog has a soul, but it was also immortal.  He recalled a story that had somehow slipped his mind during our debate, probably because he had attended to an inordinate amount of hell raising that day.  Long story short, It seems one of Frank’s neighbors knew a fellow who ended up upside down and unconscious in a pick up truck he was driving and this guy’s dog  pulled him from the burning vehicle and gave him mouth to mouth resuscitation.  Well that seemed a little far fetched to me, but Frank says he got the story from an extremely reliable source, so from that point on Frank’s position was dogs have an immortal soul and will join us in heaven.  You have to admit if that story is true that’s a lot of uncanny human-like reasoning to omit from consideration.

To be honest with you that particular high school deliberation was never a big concern of mine then, nor has it been since, until just recently.  I like dogs, but favor those that are undomesticated.  I am particularly fond of wolves, and if it weren’t a violation of a city ordinance I might consider keeping one as a pet because that seems like a good way to get rid of the stray cats that shit in my yard.  But then I’d have to deal with wolf shit, so that’s obviously a counterproductive solution.

My son and his wife have a dog, Alfie, and we occasionally take care of him.  We have a few more boundaries we expect him to observe than his owners do, but Alfie quickly came to understand them and we get along just fine.  He is cute as the dickens but every time I take him outside to do his business I’m reminded why I don’t have a dog of my own.  I was doing just that  two weeks ago when my own opinion of the spiritual side of dogs took a turn.

We had two days of storms that left a solid sheet of ice on the ground that was a quarter inch thick.  I am normally a very careful person, but unfortunately made a rare miscalculation when I took Alfie out to download.  I slipped on a path of river rock in our back yard and about knocked myself out when my lower back smashed down on a soccer-ball sized stone.  I laid on my back disoriented, swearing and groaning in agony.   What brought me to my senses was the sensation of Alfie’s tongue hosing down my face.  He even managed to slobber all over my glasses.   In an effort to escape all the flying fluid, I slowly rolled onto my stomach, letting out another series of profanity-laced moans.  The little fellow must have sensed I needed more attention, so he addressed the situation with a saliva shampoo.

Alfie- Prostrate in Supplication

After carefully analyzing my predicament, I managed to crawl back to the house on all fours.  I took stock of things and figured I had better get to an ER.  I had concerns that I might have broken a rib, or even my hip, plus it appeared I had a compound fracture of my right ring finger.    I went to my bedroom to get a warmer jacket, and when I came back out there was Alfie lying prone in the hallway, his chin on the floor and eyes rolled upward with a forlorn look, like he was extending an apology.  He followed me around the house while I grabbed my car keys and wallet, and all the way to door.  He kept his eyes on me the entire time, checking to make sure I was all right.  And basically I was.  At least my ER visit revealed no broken bones.  My finger was just dislocated.  But when I got home three and a half hours later, there was Alfie waiting nervously by the door.

Naturally I was uncomfortable that night and couldn’t  sleep.  I thought about how Alfie had reacted, and remembered the dog story Frank had told me long ago.  It dawned on me that more than likely that dog had not really administered CPR.  The guy the dog saved was probably forced back into consciousness out of fear of drowning in all the saliva.  Mystery solved!  And yes like Frank, I am now a firm believer there will be dogs in heaven, if they are anything like Alfie.  HIs soul must be immortal. My guess is God has some type of heavenly reward in store for an animal with that kind of human-like intuition and empathy.

However, if there is an afterlife, I don’t want to spend it cleaning up a bunch of dog shit.  And I am pretty sure if you see me doing that, I’m in trouble.  God must have determined I didn’t make the heavenly cut.   And by extension, neither did you or all those dogs you see me following around.

*Coincidentally, an Abbey graduate (class of 1962) achieved West Point Goat honors, and like Custer, died on the battlefield (Vietnam).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why Bad Things Happen to Good People and Other Christmas Thoughts

The other day some dirty bastard stole the lid off my garbage can. Damn it that pisses me off.  It was the lid to my super good can too, one of those that Rubbermaid makes appropriately labeled “Brute.”  That thing is indestructible.  It’s my secondary can though because it’s a little heavy.  Our primary can is constructed of light gauge plastic.  It can’t take the pummeling from my garbage men like the Brute can, but it’s easier to take to the curb.  Not that I need that accommodation.  It’s a consideration I have for my wife.  I’m not a dick and make my wife haul out the garbage cans.   I always do that.  Sometimes she tries to look busy by fiddle-farting around with the recyclables, but I’m the one that does the heavy lifting.  But I worry that someday I won’t make it back from my mountain hike after a boulder pins my arm against the side of the narrow canyon I was walking through, and she’ll have to move the trash cans around.  I like to think ahead.

So I had to set both trash cans out for pick up because we had extra garbage that week.  There is a 50 pound limit per can, and if you overshoot, the garbage collectors can tell real quick.  It comes natural after you lift something heavy on a regular basis.  Then they take it out on your garbage can and fuck it up real good.  I bought one of those fancy cans with wheels once.  Not a month went by when one of the traveling sanitation experts gave it a good toss and shattered a wheel.  That kind of pissed me off because I had taken some extra time to re-distribute some really stinky garbage between the two cans so neither would exceed the 50 pound limit. I suppose the dead squirrel I stuck on top could have set him off.  I probably should have bagged it up and dusted off some of the maggots.  Those make a nice treat for the birds.

Good view of some nice-looking Maggots

Well anyway I walked up and down the street, thinking maybe a gust of wind had come up and carried away my lid,  That is not an unnatural occurrence, but such was not the case this time.  I have a neighbor that’s kind of shifty and thought maybe he stole my lid, but that notion turned out to be a dead end.

I don’t need to tell you an unnatural rage was boiling inside of me at the thought of having to spend money on a new heavy duty trash can when all I needed was a new lid.  I got a little depressed and started thinking what a shitty deal that was and how fucked up the world is.  My mind began to wander into dark places.  I started to imagine all the cruel ways I could get even with the scummy son of a bitch that stole my trash can lid if I ever caught him.  My favorite involved a butane torch and a high torque electric drill.  I even waxed philosophic, pondering that great existential question “Why do bad things happen to good people?”   Most everyone in my neighborhood think I’m a pretty decent guy. OK there was that one time I told my neighbor on the back side of my fence to go fuck himself.  But who wouldn’t be upset when someone sprays weed killer that drifts over to your property and kills all your garden radishes.  In the end he saw I was right and apologized, so I’m pretty sure even he would agree anyone who steels a thrash can lid is a smelly piece of shit.

So I thought real hard about why bad things happen to good people, and it really didn’t take me long to figure that out.  The reason bad things happen to good people is there are too many assholes walking around that do bad things like steal your trash can lid.  The sooner we get rid of them the better.  Problem solved.

I didn’t recall ever seeing lids sold separately anywhere, but I was confident if such a thing was available it would be at my favorite hardware store.  It’s a Westlake Ace store about a mile from my house.  You may have read about it in Plumbing and Stuff.  Neither the owner, Mr. Jimmy, or Roxy, the most helpful hardware store employee ever, was there, so I had to settle for Fred and it turned out they were out of Brute trash cans but he was not aware that the lids were sold separately anyway.  Well naturally that just enforced my thinking about all the injustice in the world and I headed off to Home Depot and then Sears because they  were right on my way to my favorite liquor store.

Both of those places had Brutes, but they wouldn’t sell me a lid separately.  They cited their one can /one lid policy and it had to do with inventory control and their precious scanning guns and all that shit I really didn’t want to hear about.  Well I was just getting more worked up about the whole thing after that.  Lowe’s was right on my way home so just for the heck of it I stopped in.  Plenty of Brutes and lids there of course, but there weren’t any bar codes on the lids so I was pretty sure I was out of luck.  But I ran into Roger, or rather he ran into me with the forklift he was driving.  I guess you could say it was my fault since I snuck under the “Isle Closed” tape that spanned that isle, but god damn it I get tired of that.  Every time I go to Lowe’s they’re dicking around right in the place I need to get to.

Roger jumped off his fork lift and said he was real sorry and all that.  He had run over my foot, and it really did kind of hurt, but I was pretty much concentrating on my lid problem right then.  I explained how shitty my day was going, so he shuffled through the Brute lids and because there was no bar code on any of them, at first he said there wasn’t anything he could do.  But then after he noticed me limping around he had a change of heart and told me to just take one.  He even escorted me to the exit door.  Do you believe it?  Didn’t cost me a dime!  I don’t have a picture of Roger but he looks something like this, only he had clothes on at the time and isn’t this white.

Roger Driving His Fork Lift

But on the way home I was struck by the second half of that existential equation- “Why do good things happen to bad people?”  Obviously what had happened to me at Lowe’s was definitely a really good thing.  The odds of running into a clerk that is remotely helpful,  let alone a nice guy, are slim in the first place.  But a nice guy that is willing to go the extra mile and risk unemployment just to make me happy?  Those are long odds my friend.  So was I a bad person because something good had happened to me?  As I have pointed out there is a variety of corroborators  who will vouch for me if I slip them a Hamilton.  I have always believed I am a good person, but suddenly I was doubting myself.

By the time I got home I had that conundrum all  tidied up.  The guy that gave me my trash can lid ran over my foot too. I think I’ll lose a nail.  So good to bad- that was a wash, and then of course there was the really bad deal of the stolen trash can lid that started this whole thing.  Like always, if I think on something long enough it starts to make sense.  That was two bad things to one good thing. That is pretty much the exact ratio of how things work out for me.  If you do that math right, you have to conclude I’m nothing short of a good person.

A lot of us get this whole business of good and bad happening in the world all complicated by throwing God into the mix.  But for that you have to believe there is such a thing, and if you take a look around you have to wonder about that.  A lot of bad shit happens, and it’s not just an occasional circumstance.  Right now we have Aleppo and ISIS and suicide bombings, and plane crashes, earthquakes, tornadoes and floods have been going on forever.   That’s lots of bad stuff and some of it I guess you could blame on God if He is actually up there somewhere. Or you can go the other way and say all this horrific shit just proves there is no God.  You can hardly blame a fellow if he thinks that’s a bunch of bull.  Personally if I were God I’d run things a little differently.  What is troubling is a lot of what’s bad is carried out in the name of someone’s god. That is totally fucked up.

I think what you have to do is carry on the best you can and throw in a helpful hand now and then.  My plan is to play it safe and not bet against Pascal’s Wager, and then die and see what happens.  Or not.  And if there truly is a reward that awaits, I’m not so much interested in whether its a place where we get to live it up all day drinking single malt scotch or simply experience peaceful bliss floating around on the clouds.  I just want to be there and make sure the slimy shit ball that stole my trash can lid gets the fiery compensation he deserves.  Merry Christmas!