Our World Runs On...

    I trust you woke up this morning safe and sound.  As I said, I was vigilant last night and kept watch. However, if you lived in other parts of the world where you read my posting last night and it was at say noon or such you didn't awake safely and soundly but were probably having lunch over my blog.  I hope that it didn't give you indigestion.  Some of you read my blog the day after I posted it because you live on the other side of the International Dateline so I will say that you were safe last night and nothing monumental happened to disturb the peace, at least in my neck of the woods.
     As I was awake last night I got to thinking about what makes this world run. I though about many things such as politics, art, human achievement and really inconsequential writers who think and write too much. All of these came into the thought process but none seemed to be the definitive answer, so I kept at it. Aren't you glad about that?
     After hours of worrying, careful thought and a long night without sleep I looked around the room and it finally hit me, slightly cut me to be accurate.  This world runs on paper. As I looked around my office as I was writing and being generally sleepless in Merced, I couldn't be struck harder than the realization that all that paper that was supposed to be eliminated in the electronic age is still very much with us. I moved one of those pieces of paper and it bit me--one of those wonderful little paper cuts that hurt like the dickens. I thought the computer was supposed to eliminate this sort of thing. It didn't and the paper cut stings.
     My office is filled with all kinds of paper with stuff written on it. There are register receipts, notepads, flyers announcing events, business cards, a few unused cash payout vouchers from slot machines--by the way, what do you do with a slot machine voucher worth four cents--and of course bills and other stuff. All of this is piling up and my paper shredder can't handle the volume.
     The US Post Office is not going to go out of business any time soon.  The volume of mail, yes it is junk mail and bills, far exceeds the amount of email I get. There should be a law.  Oh yes, there was a law and it was called "The Paperwork Reduction Act". President Reagan signed it into law. That brings up another good point. Since it is a law in the US, would they enforce that law in France? The answer is probably not. Stop sending me all this paper France. By the way, do they make paper in France?

Just look at all that paper coming our way.

PS: I'm going into the kitchen now to make my coffee.

Forever Vigilant--Awake At 1:15 AM

     How many of you are awake at this hour making sure that our world is safe?  I am. The time is 1:17 PDT, or 01:17 military time. Don't ask me what that is in Zulu or Greenwich Time as I am not sure.  I think it is ten hours ahead of us, but I am not sure of this.I think I am awake writing this, but I am not 100% certain. This may be just a cruel joke. However, I am at my post being vigilant making sure the world is safe.  Should something happen like the Martians invade or the endangered hoards of "Boogie Men" attack, I will sound the alarm.
      Who would I sound the alarm to and how would that alarm sound. I kind of like the alarm sounds on a German  U-boat that I have heard in all those German submarine movies. Someone yells out Alam, Alam and you know something bad is happening or about to happen. Its kind of like have you made out your will yet time.  You aren't going  to be walking on this planet long Buddy because that American destroyer above you has you zeroed in and here come the depth charges time. I'm sorry, but you just can't stop the inevitable.
     I have just checked out my window and can assure you all is well.  If something changes and it appears that we are in trouble of "The Calamity" befalling us, I will sound the alarm, or Alam, Alam--whatever the case may be. Go back to sleep, I shall remain vigilant!







Why am I still awake at 1:17 AM PDT or 01:17 PDT military time?












ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

A picture of the destroyer USS Black Rascal Creek during anti-submarine manuvers. So I spelled manuvers wrong.
This isn't the USS Black Rascal Creek?  What am I going to do with my staff?  

Hey, Its Been A Busy Day

     Hey, I realize that it is now 11:32 on Thursday morning--Friday in Japan so enjoy your weekend. This post is really late and that's OK.  Normally I like to post early in the morning so that the day doesn't get away from me. Today, I blew it. There just was too much to do today.
     This morning has been full. No, I didn't sleep in although I did sleep until 8:00 AM Pacific Daylight Time.  This is about an hour and a half later than I normally get up. Whenever I do that it kind of sets me back with today's agenda as I have to be in the living room to see The Price Is Right at 11:00. We all have our priorities, don't we. That guy with the five kids and disabled wife has to win the car.  Its just good kharma and I have to help him win it.
     Generally the first thing I do is check my numbers on YouTube and Blogger. My numbers are soaring, by the way. At this rate I can retire when I am 95--oh wait, I am retired. Well, maybe I can buy that getaway in Costa Rica in the year 2210 at the rate I am going on AdSense. By the way, make sure you click on the vendor at the bottom in the AdSense box so that I can speed up the process of buying the home in Costa Rica. Do you really want me to beg?
      After I have checked my numbers I go on FaceBook. I don't stay there very long because I realize what a trap it is. It is my pleasure to wish those who have birthdays that particular day a Happy Birthday. That takes me up a couple of hours, it is important to catch up on the days news through FaceBook. I then turn to my email and I don't care if I have won the Habakistani Lottery worth $500, but I have to send $300 to Sabu Kanamagalagasa esq. a lawyer in Lagos, Nigeria in order to cover handling fees to release the funds. I don't trust him, he's a lawyer--I don't mean to offend any of my lawyer friends.
     All this took a little bit to long this morning so please forgive me.

What time is it?  I don't know, I can't read the face of the clock.  I don't have my glasses on.

Playing Around

      My wife plays piano and is in fact an accomplished musician. Her resume includes paid accompanist and also piano tuner. She never ceases to amaze me and I am very proud of her. As a matter of fact, she is on her way to give a piano lesson and tune a piano. I am not. However, she has inspired me.
      I am going to learn to play an instrument.  This has been on my "bucket list" for a long time now and since I have been to Gustine,  I can cross that off my "bucket list".  Time to move on to other things. By way of explanation, Gustine is a small farming community located in Central California in the middle of nowhere.   Proudly I say that I have been there and can say a lot of Gustine, but I will save that for another post. They do have a McDonald's though.
     I have decided to learn how to play the mandolin. You are probably asking yourself because you are so very interested, why the mandolin. There are many reasons and not many people play the instrument. Its sort of like the oboe. What is an oboe, by the way?  When you first see an oboe and decide to learn to play it, what do you say, oh boy I get to learn to play the oboe? When you get your first oboe at Christmas and open the package and it is an oboe instead of a violin, do you say no bow but it is an oboe. Both those comments were stretches, I know but you expected some bad humor and I didn't want to disappoint you.
     Why do I want to learn the mandolin?  Its because its there.  A mandolin is unique. Besides, I love Bluegrass music and the mandolin is a key part of this style of music. The banjo
is also important in Bluegrass, but everybody plays the banjo and I just want to be different. What's wrong with that?

Move It?  Hmmmm....

Be Happy! Its Friday!

     I have some important information to share with you.  It is Friday.  Isn't that special. I am giving those of you who work a five day work schedule that starts on Monday and goes through Friday the day off tomorrow to do whatever it is that you want. If you live in Japan, I can't do anything for you because today is Saturday.  I can't fix that, sorry.
      Today is Friday, which means a majority of you have a wonderful weekend ahead of you. Yep, I am looking forward to the weekend myself.  However, I am retired and every day seems like it is the weekend.  What is the difference between a Tuesday and a Friday?  The TV programs are different and that is about it. The first round of a golf tournament is on a Thursday and the fourth round is on Sunday. I know this.
     I do admit that there are differences in days when you are retired, but those differences are very subtle. I know it is Sunday because that is the day we go to church. We very rarely miss church because my wife is the choir director and I sing in the choir. Wednesday is choir practice so that is another benchmark for what day it is. We are off for the summer and there is no choir practice so I'm really in trouble. When we are off for the summer, I have to resort to the golf tournament measurement calendar. Thursday starts the tournament and so on to Sunday when the tournament ends is the day for church. We live in an ordered universe, you know.
      What am I going to do tomorrow, which I think is Saturday--I'm not sure? I'm going to put on my brown shorts, navy blue polo shirt and Birkenstock sandals. Then, I will take the long walk to the couch and turn on the TV to watch golf, not because I love to watch golf but because I need to confirm what day it is.

A description in pictures of  my strenuous activities this weekend.

This Scares Me

     Some of you, not many, have asked me what scares me the most. I hate horror films. Driving a one lane road in a two ton truck on the side of a mountain with a 3000 ft drop on one side kind of makes my spine tingle as does an IRS audit. Not taking out the trash can causes a bit of anxiety as well, fearing not so much the trash not being taken out but my wife's reaction to not taking it out. That will ruin your day.  I am most scared by one little word, apricot.
     I hate apricots and have had many sleepless nights with nightmares about them. They bring many unpleasant memories from my childhood. You just don't understand, I HATE APRICOTS.
     Let me explain.  When I was growing up we had an apricot tree in the back yard. To say it was a healthy tree would be an understatement. The tree bore fruit, boy did it bear fruit. We picked apricots off it and all at the same time.  Do you know what happens when apricots are over ripe?  So, the family each year undertook the Herculean task of picking the darn apricots--tons of them.
     What do you do with all those apricots, all ripening at the same time. As I said in my last post, you try to give them away to friends.  This lasts only a short while as your friends quickly disappear.  In most cases, they don't like apricots and they try to avoid you because they know you because they know that you are going to try to palm more apricots on them. By this time they have sat for awhile and I won't even go to what happens after they have gotten soft and mushy.
     The idea hits that maybe we should make apricot jam. I don't like apricot jam and never have. When I was young, if I were to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich it was made with apricot jam.  My mom always wondered why I would eat her PB&J sandwich made with apricot jam. After all, we had to use up all the jam that we made that season, let alone the twelve seasons before. I think after 50 years, I still have a jar of that ugly stuff from out tree laying around somewhere. Its probably well aged by now.
     Not only was I a picker, but I was the cleanup crew as well.  As the apricots we didn't pick off the tree ripened they would fall off the tree, mushy of course. I used to hate stepping on them.  You just couldn't help but not step  on them. There were still millions of them. How many can you eat and make jam out of.  Our grass in the back went right up to the tree so I had to mow under the tree. You can imagine the mess to the mower, not to mention squishing the ugly things. You would have to clean your shoes of an ugly orange goo.
     How many apricots can you eat.  I have had enough.

I can eat pineapple, watermelon, strawberries peaches and other fruits. I just can't stand apricots.

You Are Going To Wear That? Part 2

     My wife is out again and I think she is at the Fashion Police District Headquarters. I had to go out for a bit to run some errands and I looked resplendent in my brown shorts, navy blue polo shirt and my Birkenstock sandals. She didn't say a word as the errand was to procure needed supplies for her. This time, comfort won. Besides, I got dressed after she left.

Where you go when you defy fashion law.

You Are Going To Wear That?

     I have to admit, I don't have a real good fashion sense.  If it were up to me, I would wear shorts, a polo shirt and sandals all the time.  That's not exactly true.  When it gets cold, below 60 degrees, I will bring myself down to wear jeans and tennis shoes but that's no big deal. I'm sorry but I wore business attire for so long I swore off suits and ties and even shirts and ties a long time ago after I left the business world. Face it, life is too short to be uncomfortable.
     As you probably know, I love my wife.  I am a bit suspicious though.  Many times she will look at what I have on and ask me if I am really going to wear that. After all, what's wrong with wearing brown shorts with a navy blue shirt and birkenstock sandals to a church award dinner. Its going to be hot in the building. Besides, all those Germans who wear Birkenstocks can't be that wrong.
       Is she a member of the fashion police, Merced Division? My concerns got the best of me. I had to find out so I did a little snooping.  Sure enough there it was tucked in an isolated part of the closet.  It was her Fashion Police dress uniform. I wondered where she went when she said that she had a piano lesson. She was checking in to the Fashion  Police Headquarters for her assignments. She doesn't wear that uniform much, in fact I have never seen her wear it and guess the uniform is only for ceremonial purposes only worn on special occasions. I wondered where she was last week that one day when she was gone all day and took what she called a special dress with her. Maybe I'm paranoid but she does tell me "You're NOT going to wear that, are you." an awful lot. Hmmmmmmm......

Occasionally I will wear a sweater and sneakers. 

No Clankety Clank---Back To Veroom, Veroom

     We got the car back from the mechanic a few hours ago.   I would have been back sooner but I was given an order from the head of procurement to go to the food dump--uh supermarket. She wanted me to secure some groceries in order to fee the troops. Of course I obey orders and this afternoon was no exception. If "Mama" ain't happy, nobody is happy. I spent too much, but at least we will eat pretty well for the next few days.
      There is some great news.  The car is fixed and it didn't cost an arm and a leg. It rides very quietly. As explained to me it was a bearing that went out.  She rides pretty well actually.  The transmission still goes "clunk" occasionally  but I was assured that the injury is not permanent and we can live with it. It is not something that would strand us on the road. It's kind of like my arthritis in my hands. I have to learn to adjust and accept it, sort of like my arthritis.
     It is a Ford, and we all know what that stands for. However, don't let the car hear you say that. I don't want it to feel offended.

There's the "Blue Bandit" in better days. She likes to go place sand now we can she she was in the hospital for minor surgery.

   

My Style Was Cramped

     How many of you have ever been indulging in a wonderful and restful deep night's sleep and have had to turn over. When you turn over something very painful happens.  You get a muscle cramp that makes you feel like your tendon in your foot is about ready to snap.  The pain is intense, and the darn think just doesn't want to go away.
     You try everything to work it out, to no avail.  It just keeps getting worse and your muscle tenses up even further. It hurts, let alone a wonderful deep sleep has been interrupted. The darn thing just isn't going away. If you were a horse your master would have gotten a gun and shot you at this point because of the pain you are suffering just to put you out of your misery.
     What does your wife, who is sleeping soundly next to you no more than a couple of inches do. She turns over and says in a still voice, "Do you have to make so much noise?"
     The pain and noise doesn't subside.  You are trying to be quiet but it hurts too much. The decibel level of the screams of pain seem to increase in relationship to the severity of the pain and the failure to loosen the muscle. You have tried to stretch it out quietly, but to no avail. The cream seem oblivious to any of your efforts to combat it. The hope that I could return to a state of slumber is quickly melting away. Its 2:00 in the morning by the way and I want to go back to sleep. Two O'clock in the morning is too early for me to get up.
     My beloved finally turns to me and says, "What's the matter?  Does it hurt?"
     "No, I'm just trying to gauge my pain tolerance." I said quietly, hiding my real feeling toward her at the moment. (I love you dear.)
     "Why don't you get up and walk it out?" she suggested.
     "I would love to dear."  I said in a loving voice. I think what her real motive was that she wanted to see me crawl or at least fall down out of bed. It has been a long time since she has had a good laugh at my expense.  IT HURT!!!
     After a few minutes which seemed like enough time to create a new world had passed, the cramp finally went away.  I had to gut it out through that incredible pain. I moved my foot back and forth and up and down.  Finally, the pain subsided. It was time to try to finish out the night's sleep.
     Have you ever tried to go back to sleep after a painful incident like this. Morphine would be a great choice, but I am not a drug abuser and I am not in a hospital. My brain decided that the strategy should be to return to sleep by fluffing up my pillow and just going for it. That wasn't working so I decided on another tack.
     I would start counting the dots on the ceiling.  Did you know that there are five billion, three hundred two million, six hundred seventy five thousand, two hundred and seventy eight dots on our bedroom ceiling.  I know this.  I counted them all--twice. That took about two hours and didn't work. I thank my fourth grade teacher for teaching how to count that high.
     Since the counting of dots strategy was not working another strategy had to be implemented. I decided the "Happy Gilmore Happy Place" technique may work. I decided to try to imagine a "Happy Place" and go to it in my mind. I won't describe my "Happy Place" because this post is getting to long, but it was restful and calming, kind of like the dream I was having before all this took place. The is just something about a warm tropical beach and, well you get the idea.
     Can I ask a favor? Will someone look at my leg to see if my foot is still there? My leg has gone numb from the knee on down to my foot.  The cramp has pretty much taken the feeling out of it. I can walk though, I think.

This is a beautiful place, but its nothing like my "Happy Place".

Who Moved My Cheese...Uh, Car

     I slept very well last night, thank you very much.  There was just one problem.  It was great being in a state of nocturnal bliss and tranquility but my sleep was disturbed. My brain decided to play a mean trick on me. You just wouldn't believe the dream I had.
     Most nights I can remember my dreams and they are fairly pleasant. My favorite one was the dream where I wound up on an island inhabited by a tribe of beautiful women and I was the only man. There is a lot I could share with you about on this one, but I care not to as it would adversely effect my status as a married man. The couch in the living room is comfortable, but I would rather sleep in my bed and not the couch.
      Here is my dream in a nutshell. Actually, I'm writing about it in this blog. The whole thing wouldn't fit in a nutshell and how could you read it if it was. Something written has to be orderly and on a surface where the letters are put out so that you could read it. I suppose you could put it on microfilm and put it in a nutshell, but you would need a reader to read the message. By the way, do people still use microfilm?
       It seems as though I was going to a shop to help a friend build something. That in and of itself is kind of scary because with my mechanical skills you don't want me around any sort of tools. I can be dangerous but that is another story and I didn't mean to bring down that storage rack. It was an accident. Let's just leave it at that, shall we.
      The friend's shop was located in the corner of a shopping center parking lot. The anchor tenant of the shopping center was a grocery store and the parking lot was very big. I parked my car out in the south forty of the lot.  For those of you in Poland or France or Boston, do I need to explain south forty? Let's just say I parked my car away from everything in an isolated corner of the lot. I locked my car and went into my friend's shop which was a part of a gas station.
       We had just finished what we were working on and I was about to leave. As I walked to my car a man came up to me and said, "You won't find your car out there."
        "Why?" I asked.
       "Its just been towed away to the gas station. There is a sign that says you can't park there over two hours and You've been parked there for two hours and five minutes. Your car is at the gas station and you have to pay to get it out."
        "What sign?" I asked. I looked around and saw no sign. This was a bit upsetting.
        I went back to the station to retrieve my car and was told by an attendant that he couldn't release the car and that only the manager had the authority.  The manager who was also the owner had gone for the day so my car would have to stay the night. There would of course be a storage charge. I was not going to pay the storage fee when there was on sign.
        The whole rest of the dream was me trying to get my car back. It seems as though the Supreme Court of the United States would not take the case.  At that point, I decided to pay the $1,000,000 storage charge
that had built up and just forget the whole thing. Admitting defeat, I woke up.

Had to change my mode of transportation.

     

Milk It For All Its Worth

     I wasn't going to post today, but I just couldn't avoid it. An opportunity came up and I just will not let it pass. Whenever life gives you an opportunity, you have to jump on it. It is sort of like the hanging curve ball in baseball. If a pitcher throws you a lolipop hanging curve ball over the plate you have to hit it out of the park. By the way, that is where I heading today. I am going to a Giants game, but that has nothing to do with this post.
     So, my wife poured herself a bowl of cereal. She spilled some milk out of the bowl and onto her recliner. She didn't say much, just "Oh darn, I spilled some milk."
     That got the wheels in my head turning. As you probably know, getting the wheels turning in my head doesn't take much. At any rate, she didn't get very emotional. I was very proud of her because...

...Wait for it...

...Wait for it...

...Wait for it...

...Here it comes, so be prepared...

...Are you ready?...

...Here it comes...

She didn't cry over spilled milk. And my mom always told me, "Never Cry Over Spilled Milk".

PS:  For those who do not follow baseball or do not understand the game, I apologize for the baseball metaphor.

Take me out to the ball game. What does that have to do with spilled milk?

The Price Is Right

     I'm sorry but you will have to wait a bit longer for today's post.  I'm watching The Price Is Right. Will she win the car.?
No, you are way off. Excuse me, I have to go.  She's about to blow it.  The bathroom cleaner isn't that much.  Take the popcorn.  Oh, you blew it. No car for you.  You do get to spin the wheel though.

Nope, not this car.  Besides it has four flats.

     I'll come back later.

Hey Geico, I Could Write A Commercial For You

Dear Geico Insurance
     I would like to offer my services to you as a commercial writer.  If you have read any of my posts on this blog--you probably haven't but you are not alone in that--you would have noticed that I am a very witty guy. I could bring that wit and strange sense of humor to your advertising campaigns.
     The gecko campaign is truly a stroke of genius. Who would have thought that a small green amphibian whose name is a close homophone to your corporate name would fit the bill as your company spokesman--oops, that's spokesperson as we don't want to offend anyone. You really took the ball and ran with it on this one. I do have a question though.  Where is the gecko from with his slight cockney accent?  I would guess Belize or possibly what was formerly known as British Guyana.  Hold on, I'll check Google on that...
     Wikepedia--we all know the foremost authority on everything which is always accurate--states that Geckos are a lizard that can be found in any warm climate. It also states that a species can be found in New Zealand.  This has caused a change in my thinking, based upon the accent of the Geico Gecko. There is an outside chance he is from New Zealand, although I don't detect a "down under" sound in his accent. You tell me.  Where is the famous Gecko from?  I promise I won't tell.
     For now, I have one last question for you.  Where does he hide his wallet?

This is a close as I could come to a picture of a Gecko. The colors are close and birds are related to lizards. 

 

Revenge Of The Machines

     So, I got my computer fixed.  It just doesn't end there though.  My computer is working fine and
doing exactly what I want it to do, but I think it kind of resented the fact that I got it fixed and can no longer cause me a great amount of frustration.  Machines talk to one another, and I think that they hold grudges, especially when we humans want to wrest control back from their dominance.  Such is the case with my car.
     Do you know how many computer components are on a car.  Yes, my car was manufactured--not made by the way because when you make something there is the possibility that you also install a personality or some form of intelligence--in 2004.  I realize that is old and the electronics on it are not as advanced as a car that is built--again built, not made--in 2015. But, like a grandson sitting at the knee of their grandfather they still talk to one another. They share stories and especially share conspiracies, especially on  how to drive humans crazy.
     Someone who is as techno-challenged as I am has no chance. We frustrate easily and machines know this.  Yes, I did have my computer fixed but it talked to my car. As a form of revenge it ordered my car to go on the fritz. You got to love the communication and networking.
     I put a lot of loving kindness in my car.  I give it baths and watch it's fluid levels.  Occasionally I even feed it high octane fuel.  Do you blame me for reacting the way I am. My frustration level is very high at this point. The options I have open to me are very narrow. I have to take it to a car doctor and have a machine tell the doctor what is wrong with it.
     The services that the doctor is going to perform on my car are pretty expensive and I am still at the mercy of another machine that diagnoses what is wrong. Once again and I can't say this strongly enough, it is a wicked conspiracy.  Think about it for a minute, how do I know that the diagnostic machine is telling the truth or just pulling my chain? What other machine is going to cause me a great amount of frustration after I get my car fixed?  All of this kind of makes you think, doesn't it?
     Maybe not.

Not my car anymore. I really miss that car.

OUCH!

     I think every muscle in my body is sore right now. Why you may ask, or your may not ask. You may not care and that's all right too. The fact that my muscles are sore is not something that will not bring the world as we know it to an end. It feels like it right now from my perspective, but from a more worldly perspective it just isn't that important.  I understand that and accept that fact. It still doesn't change that I am sore all over.
     My clothes have been a little bit tight on me of recent so I decided to get on a scale to see just how much I weigh.  That figure is none of your beeswax and I won't reveal that number to the general public.  That is a secret, sort of like Caitlyn Jenner's measurements so I won't give those numbers--my weight that is. What I will tell you is that the number--my weight--has climbed just a bit. Yes, I have gained a little weight.
      I decided it was time to do something about it, and that was return to what I was doing when I lost so much weight the last time I tried a few years ago and lost seventy pounds. I needed to limit my portion sizes, eat more health things, limit my sugar intake to almost nothing and most importantly go back to the gym and work out. One thing I wasn't going to do though was get another divorce. That was totally out of the question and I want to reassure Denise that was not an option. Tonight I may be sleeping in the doghouse for saying that, but oh well and by the way, we don't have a doghouse or a dog.
     Monday, I went back to the gym for the first time in about a month and a half.  It felt wonderful. I do miss the sauna and jacuzzi that was in the gyms that I worked out in before. That's a bit off the subject so that is all I will mention of that. It was a reward that I gave myself to spend some time after a workout to soothe those tired muscles. OK, I will move on and get to the point.  I promise. Yes, I was sore on Tuesday but I returned to the gym on Wednesday and had a very good workout.
     It was a very hot day Thursday.  The mercury soared into the low 100's.  Denise went to a baseball game in San Francisco so naturally I had to play golf.  I would drink a lot of water so as to not dehydrate and all was great with the world.  I was a little sore from the workout the day before but played well and shot a 92, which is good for me since I only play golf once every three months now.
     Last night, I plopped myself into bed extremely exhausted but totally happy. Immediately I fell into a deep and satisfying sleep. About an hour and a half into that deep slumber, I was rudely awakened by severe pain in my right leg. It was a muscle cramp and a bad one at that. I managed to get up and walk it off with the pain going away after a few excruciating moments. This one hurt!
     I managed to go back to bed and fell asleep again.  The rest of the night was fairly uneventful and I woke up earlier this morning to a very sore body. No, I don't always walk like a gorilla.

I didn't get to play here yesterday.

       
   
     

It's A Computer Conspiracy--Part III

     I have to announce that there is good news.  After many days of fighting a battle with this electronic tool, I have finally got it fixed.  My computer expert did a wonderful job of diagnosing and fixing the problem.  I cannot thank him enough.  I am back in business and my computer is running as good as new. The conspirators have been defeated and dealt with.

Well done, O techno guru.  You are the greatest!

Hair Washing and Pollution--Really?

     In this world we have to be very careful in preserving our environment.  Especially here in California where we are having to live under the worst drought conditions ever recorded in weather keeping history.  Our goal should be to protect our water supply. What we do have cannot be polluted, especially by dumping raw sewage into the American River by certain Norther California municipalities who shall remain nameless.  Sometimes I have to restrain from political comment because this blog is meant to entertain and bring a few laughs. It is not intended to comment on politics, so we will leave it at that.
     Here it is folks, I'm going to give it to you between both eyes. Well, maybe I shouldn't have put it that way. You may have taken that comment the wrong way, given the amount of gun violence we have in our country today.  I want to make it clear to you that I don't own a gun.  My daughter does, but I don't. I can't pass the background check having spent some time in a mental institution back in 1996. I am non-violent, I can assure you. What does this have to do with water pollution? OK, I'll get back to what I was going to say.
     How many of you have seen the commercial for a shampoo product where there is a woman taking a bath in a jungle mountain pool underneath a pristine waterfall and she is washing her hair with a commercial shampoo? Admit it, you have seen it. It is done in good taste. It seems as though she is a Mayan or some other jungle tribe, which is of no consequence. What is important here is that she is rinsing her hair in that pure mountain water. What about the people living downstream from where she is washing her hair. They are having to drink water that has been contaminated by the shampoo she was using.  I don't know about you, but I hate to drink water that tastes like shampoo.  Where are the environmentalists on this one? Where is the outrage?

     Please respect my right to drink clean, unpolluted water. DON'T take a bath or wash your hair with a commercial shampoo upstream of where I get my drinking water.  I can take cherry flavored water, but shampoo flavored water just doesn't taste that good.

Sorry, I'm horsing around again. They wash him with recycled water, by the way and no shampoo. 

No Joke--Literally

     I am very much aware of my job. That job is to bring a hearty laugh and a different perspective of the world around us to you my readers. Many have commented that I see the world through slightly skewed eyes. My observations are a bit different, to say the least and I hope that I have made you think a bit and perhaps chuckle. Today is a little different. I have nothing to share with you.
      My world of late has been pretty dull. Sometimes you look and do not find.  Such is the case with me and what is happening. It has been a busy few weeks and the events of the past few weeks have taken me away from my desire to write. That is sad, I know but it is true.
     I am afraid I have nothing witty to share with you today. Let me assure you that this is a very temporary state in which I have come into because my mind has been racing and my wife is about ready to throw me out of the house for some of the bad jokes that I have come up with recently. Please stay with me and experience this drought of humor with me.  I need the company.  By the way, maybe it is the lack of water here in California that is contributing to my drought of ideas. It could just be the debate over water or High Speed Rail here in California that is syphoning off my enthusiasm. Ooops, I am not going to turn this into a political column but I just couldn't resist.
     My advice is hang in there.  My mind can't be held in bondage for too much longer.

Blame Canada!

Father's Day 2015

     I am not going to post much today as it is Sunday and Father's Day 2015.  Thanks Dad, I know you have passed away but I thank you for all that you gave me. Just like the Harry Chapin song Cats In The Cradle, I have grown up a lot like you.
     For all you fathers, I give you this. I hope that you enjoy it. It is the video of Trump National. Click on it and enjoy!
https://youtu.be/sY5i6cytoqM

The waterfall behind the 17th hole at Trump National Los Angeles.