Kakahead

Dear Antenna Ranchers,

I found it necessary to let you all know that I am on vacation all next week, and you are not.  Unless you are, then you are also.

On vacation.

Have I mentioned I’m not working next week??  Oh wait… I’m writing this thing called Happy Friday.  So that means it’s today already!!  Which means:  I’m on vacation!!  And you are not.  Unless you are.  On vacation.

Deja Vu…

Ha ha on you who must work, I laugh to you.   I bet your toenails are shivering at the thought of working for the next many days.  This is very amusing to me indeed.

I plan to spend the day doing things that I do not get paid to do.  This is why it is called vacation.  Although it won’t happen THIS time, some of my favorite things to do are playing in the garden, sleeping longer than normal and maybe even forgetting how to shave my cat’s teddy bear baskets.  The garden must be carefully tilled with explosives and high pressure syrup hoses.  Following that, I methodically mix all my veggie seeds together in a large five gallon bucket and fling them into the syrup explosion zones.  Pancakes will be sprouting before June 48 if we don’t get any rain…

We are driving to Florida this time, which is many hours on our hineys in a small rental car we affectionately call, “Old Rattlebonken.”  We go to visit family, no Mickety Mouse for the likes of us (Thank God).  The most important thing is I will be with my loved ones and not at work.  

On the other hand, I just ate a grape from Meijer that tasted like fish.  I never knew they had fish grapes.  Now I must try my hand at making fish raisins or maybe one of YOU could send me the recipe for fish wine. If I recall correctly, there are stories of a very famous person who could convert bread into water and fish into wine.  So as you can see, fish wine is not a new concept.

However, regardless of how much fish wine you may care to produce, I will not be having any with your breaded water meal.  I am a recovering fishaholic, so it might not be a very good idea for me to start drinking fish again.  I’ll just have to enjoy the fish raisins, or maybe peanut butter and fish jelly sandwiches with a glass of coconut milk.

How many moles does it take to get a jar of molasses??  Those poor moles, running around with no hineys.  They are brave to sacrifice their booty just so we can have our jars of molasses.  Not sure why we civilized people even allow jars of molasses to be sold in stores.  I mean, do you ever see jars of mouseknees, cricketlips, or even seagullstomachs??  Nope.  Just molasses.  

Dinner for every day during this vacation will be pizza and Snickers bars.  Freshly squeezed fish grapes will be served up as a nice hot beverage with a dollop of whipped crab juice on the side.  No farmers will be harmed in this extravaganza.  It’s very possible I need a vacation.

Please have a safe and odiferous working time.  Are you on vacation?  No, you are not. 

ME, not YOU.

My eyes have suddenly turned into olives!!!

Conko De Bonko,

Kenny Calibration
a.k.a. “Fossil Tongue Pete”

———————————-

Hopefully our vacation will work out differently than Donald’s did…

With Mother’s Day on the horizon, I thought it important to yell a BIG GIANT THANK YOU to all the mothers in the universe.  After all, without Mom, none of us would be where we are today.  Actually, without Mom, none of us would be at all!! 

 We have lots of “holidays” on the calendar that, in my professional opinion, should not be holidays at all.  Nope, I think we should practice the principles of days like Earth Day, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day all year long.  Nothing wrong with making a bigger fuss once a year, mind you.  But considering all the sacrifices our mothers made to raise us all the very best way they could; don’t you think Mom deserves to be special all year long?

 God knows I could have done a better job appreciating Mom when we were kids.  Too soon old and too late smart seems to be bonking around inside my head bone a bit regularly these days.  Hindsight is 20/20 though, as they say.  All we can do now is take the good that Mom gave us and let it shine whenever we get the chance.

 So for this week’s Happy Friday, I’m just going to be short and to the point:

 Dear Mom,

 Thank you for everything.

 I love you with all my heart,

 Me.

 And to all of you other Moms out there, thanks to all of you also.  You’ve blessed me with wonderful friends and loved ones who could never have been here without your help.

 Take care, dear Moms, and Happy Mother’s Day.

Here’s what happens when a guy tries to fill in for Mom…

Dear Tinker Toy Handlers,

 This is to inform you that our house is exploding and the bottle rockets have prevented me from listening to the stereo for 13 weeks.  I know that you are the ones who forced me into this situation, and I demand immediate constipation.  If you do not comply with this request, I shall be coagulated instantly while I sail off to Bermuda with a large tube of toothpaste.  No one has the right to tell ME what to wear to the Chicken Festival!  So please, before our relationship has been too greatly damaged, change that stinky underwear you have on!  You should know by now that the brown and yellow crusties are a clue that wash day is past!

 And another thing:  every time I sit down, my butt makes contact with another thing!  I wonder:   how many times has my butt touched another thing without my asking the thing if it wanted to be touched?  I’ve also learned that my butt and my brain appear to be connected.  I know this to be true because a) I’ve made some really embarrassing mistakes during my stay on this planet we call Rhubarb, and 19) every time I forget something, I sit down and instantaneous remembering occurs within 7 or 8 millirockens. 

Now don’t correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m sure you cannot be allowed to stay in the country after those things you did with that flyswatter in the restaurant.  I mean, people who try to eat soup with a used flyswatter are probably not going to be invited to my burping contest anytime soon.  Unruly behavior will be rewarded with gentle slappings about the eyes and shoulders with the standard issue licorice flavored water balloons.

Please remember that the child within you needs to be nurtured, and only you can do it.  

If you ever feel sad or lonely, you can take action on this by paying me some big bucks.  I will gladly use the money for disturbance mechanisms which will not allow you to get proper rest.  A few weeks of this and you will forget all about that whiny inner child; and you will sport a pleasant, robotic appearance.  Another tried and true method of healing the inner self is to shame the heels that find you.  In other words, whenever some schmuck tries to perk you up, grin politely and suggest that they eat bark and poop at the moon.  They will usually be glad you were honest, and will mumble unintelligible affirmations as they briskly walk away.

Well, as you can see, there is no reason to panic.  Nothing is all right here, and the world is coming to an end.  Please understand that I have found some very effective ways to deal with the stress that Armageddon brings.  Firstly, give yourself the treat of some good all around attention:  walk through the mall without clothing on, and smile to all you meet.  Second:  stop in the restaurant and briskly apply jelly to your ears.  Your eyes will get squinty, and you will laugh loudly at the lack of pockets for hankies to wipe it off.  Next will come the overpowering urge to charge people extra for car repairs.

Nevermind.  That may have been a dumb idea.  Just try something else, ok?

If you question my sanity or the validity of any of the aforementioned delinquent prostitutions, I say to you, “tough beans, Mr. or Ms. Smartenheimer!!”  Sheesh!!  Being absolutely correct is one of my hobbies, and unless I am mistaken, I have never been totally accurate on any doggoned thing in my whole life.  Fortunately for me, however, I know now that the more I learn the less I know.  I learned that… I think.  Ya know??

So in silence, I grant you three wishes, none of which will ever come true so forget about it.  Don’t push me into something I don’t understand.  I have low self-esteem and you know it.  I have been taking classes for this, and they told me the best way to talk to people about your problems is to lie about the weather and run away laughing. 

Be friendly to all you meet, as you may wish to borrow their used cereal someday.  Have a conversation with a foreign car.  Sing loudly with a mouthful of spaghetti; you’ll quickly learn who your real friends are.  Feed your fish some dust and see how they like it.  Try drinking from the toilet, cats do it all the time.  Carry fried food in your pocket and offer it to strangers.  Lick a telephone pole for fun. 

Above all else, please remember:  GOD MAKES NO JUNK, SO LOVE THYSELF!!  OK?

Thank you for being, it gives me great comfort to know that you are.

Also, thanks in advance for not eating the crayons.

Peace, Love, and AM Radio,

Forvis “Green Tongue” Marbleswapper

a.k.a. “Runs With A Flashlight”
 
Speaking of nonsense, here’s the master…

You can sure tell summer’s coming. Why? Simple: dead bodies everywhere!! Raccoons, possums, woodchucks, birds, squirrels, even kitties and doggies. The warm weather has lots of critters in mating mode, and they are moving about like they own the place or something. Well, ok, they do own the place. Or at least they used to…
 
To show our appreciation for all of the Creator’s flora and fauna, humans have chopped up their habitat and shot roads through the parcels. Then to add to their excitement, we drive through these zoomophone lanes with big metal honkers at 70 mph or more. Most animals aren’t quite equipped to get across the road when a four wheeled flier is coming at them out of nowhere. So, we see lots of babies “sleeping” on various parts of the road. Makes me sad for them… I try hard to slow down when I see animals near the roadway. Sure, I have been guilty of assassinating some of those poor babies with my own four wheeled killing machine. When I’ve been unfortunate enough to kill one of Mother Nature’s babies I have an immediate reaction: being the big, strong man that I am, I cry like a baby and ask the Great Spirit for forgiveness.
 
Ok, now it’s out. I’m a big wuss. I’m the idiot who stops on the roadway because I see a turtle trying to make its way across. I turn on my flashers, pull off to the side, and dodge cars to whisk the little booger off the road and out of harm’s way. Then I carry it about 50 yards from the road and stomp my feet until it lumbers off in the opposite direction of the traffic lanes. My furry and feathered friends get the horn. Most animals will run from the horn if you use it in time. By “in time,” I mean at least 50 feet before you get to the animal. Otherwise, if you honk when you’re right next to them, they’ll often freak out and run erratically. Then you end up hitting them anyhow. I’ll also pump my brakes if there are any cars behind me, hoping that other motorists will follow my lead and give the critter the right of way.
 
On the other hand, you have dead bugs. Sometimes literally on the “other hand”… there’s nothing more rewarding than sticking your mitt out the car window on a warm day and having a bug go kersplat in your hand while you’re playing airplane. Oh and by the way, no, I don’t swerve to avoid bugs. At least not on the expressway… I may be crazy but I ain’t no fool. If I have time (which means at lower speeds), I try to miss beneficial insects. You know, bees, dragonflies, butterflies, and of course wasps. But even now, with the weather still fairly cool, you can tell that my windshield has already sent quite a few insects to Bug Heaven. As I mentioned earlier, I’m a big wussy boy, and I get sad when I see beneficial insects bite the dust because on of my brand new 2001 Chrysler Town & Country Racing Van.
 
But hey, humans are critters too, and the Great Spirit built us just like all the other critters. So, rather than try to dodge insects on the freeway and put the lives of other drivers in danger, I take small comfort in the fact that I may be feeding some birds with my car. At least indirectly. One of the miracles of Creation is that living things adapt, sometimes in strange ways. Believe it or don’t, there are birds who have actually learned how to pick up insect road kill for a quick meal. I first noticed starlings doing this several years ago. Red winged blackbirds, who travel with starlings during migration, have also learned this trick. And they must be sharp cookies, because I have yet to see a squished starling or blackbird on the road.
 
I guess all is not lost when mammals, birds, and even turtles are executed by cars. This much I’ve learned through the existence of things like “The Road Kill Cookbook,” which is a humorous rendition about an actual activity in the more rural areas of the country. Yes, there really are people who eat road kill. And why not? We have farmers raise hordes of animals every year and they are killed for our consumption. Can’t get much better at recycling than eating road kill. Not that I’m eager to do it mind you. But if it’s freshly killed, a road kill turkey, for example, would be lots healthier food than one you buy from the store. No artificial anything.
 
Yeccchh. I’ll stick to the store-bought animal flesh, thank you very much. Makes a good argument for becoming a vegetarian, huh? Or at least, we could become more cautious drivers.
 

I would like to take this opportunity to save my fellow home owners some grief.  And if any of you are gardeners of any sort, please be especially mindful of the following words of caution:

 IF YOU HAVE A NOTION TO EMBARK UPON A MISSION TO GATHER ROCKS, BROKEN CONCRETE, OR OTHER “COOL STUFF I’LL PROBABLY USE SOMEDAY,”  PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE VEHICLE AND GO WATCH TV OR SOMETHING.

 Here’s an illustration:  there I was 10,000 feet in the air, no plane, no parachute, or maybe less than 10,000 feet in the air, or OK not in the air at all, but driving around with my 2001 Chrysler Town & Country complete with trailer hitch, and oh wait, I’m writing a run-on sentence, because now I remember I did the same stupid thing with my 1995 Plymouth Voyager Racing Van, also complete with trailer hitch, minding my own business, and driving past piles of broken concrete or field stone which were also minding their own business but looking for a home and HOLY COW this sentence is not only running on and on but also basically a paragraph and I better quit awreddy!!. 

 Long story longer, people would say, “hey, know anyone who wants some chunks of concrete?”   Or maybe they said, “I have some field stone I need out of my yard, you want it?”  Well, that was just the bait that this sucker needed to gatherfree “landscaping supplies.”   Of course, I actually did use some.  Some being the operative word here.  I made some nice tiered flower beds for my beautiful girlfriend with the broken concrete.  Oh, and some of the field stone was used to border various things and to make the banks of our creek pretty.  Again, some…

 The extra stones and concrete chunks were stored for “some other time.”  My lovely wife actually allowed it, maybe because we have 5 acres and the rocks, etc. didn’t take much room.  She may also have had some ideas for future uses of these free globs of stone.  So the extras were piled at the far west side of the vegetable garden for safe keeping.

NOT A VERY GOOD PLAN.

You know what else goes at that end of the garden?  Do ya??  HUH?!?!  Well I’ll TELL you!  I’m an organic gardener, OK?  So I gather mulch in the form of leaves, grass clippings, sometimes wood chips, oh and not to forget the necessary manure that has to be brought in so the plants can be nice and happy.  Some of these materials may have spilled over on top of the rocks and concrete over the years…

Fast forward several years.  Now I get these grandiose ideas of expanding the garden (with my lovely wife’s blessing of course).   Our wonderful son-in-law assisted with putting up a wire fence to keep the deer out.  The garden runs from east to west, with the west side farthest from the road.  Good place for storing extra stones and concrete chunks, right!!  Before putting up the fence, I removed several poplar saplings that had sprung up over the years amid the piles of “landscaping material.”   During the whacking of the trees I noticed a pretty good pile of concrete back there. 

Last fall, we took two pretty good sized trailer loads of concrete to the landfill.  It was great fun, because I moved the concrete to the trailer with the wheelbarrow.   That’s because our ground is too mushy to bring the van and trailer to the pile.  Unfortunately, however, the ground was also too soggy where I parked the van, not 50 feet from the road.  I had a very enjoyable day unloading the trailer so I could drive the van close enough to the road to pull it out of the yard.  This of course was after  using a floor jack to raise the totally stuck wheels onto old pieces of plywood so I could get the van out of the mush. 

This year, I’m continuing the happy removal operation.  However, I’ve wised up a smidge:  the van and trailer are parked in our concrete driveway.   It’s a bit more aerobic exercise but I load the wheelbarrow and trudge over to the trailer.  NO MORE GETTING STUCK IN THE LAWN FOR ME, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!   The “Happy Removal Party” began Wednesday evening and continued this evening.  Very enjoyable times filled with digging, grunting, and heaving chunks of stone and concrete out of the soil.  I’ve been using my pitch fork and shovel to probe the dirt… and too often when I stab the ground I hear that unmistakable thunk when I hit rock.   I swear, some of those stinkin’ things were almost 2 feet down!!

I’m about ¾ of the way done…

After all this fulfilling outdoor recreation, I can’t help but remember my Dad.  He was always ready to offer “encouragement” in times like these.  If he were here today, I believe he’d share some of his favorite insightful words: 

“Shake your head.   You hear the rocks??”

No… I didn’t hear the rocks.  But believe it or not I did sing a little Steppenwolf while working…

Many moons ago, my beautiful girlfriend acquired a sprouter so we could raise babies for eating.  It’s truly a wonderful thing to raise babies; then eat them raw in salads and the like.  Do not be alarmed… I am NOT talking about baby humans or other animals!!  No, no… those would be much too crunchy.  Possibly illegal too I think maybe.  Rather, the sprouter is a wonderful little kitchen gizmo that’s used to grow plant babies.  Some of our favorites are mung bean sprouts and alfalfa sprouts.  We often eat them raw but of course mung bean sprouts are very nice when added at the very last stage of cooking up a stir fry.

 About six or seven years ago my ravishing honey pie brought home a fairly large packet of seeds labeled “Broccoli for Sprouting,”  which had a very colorful picture of a mixed greens salad on the front.  I’m guessing there was about half a pound of the very small, round, black seeds in the packet.  We sprouted some, but weren’t at all smitten with the results.  The flavor was OK, but not anything that really tickled our tastebuds.  So into the refrigerator went the seed packet to live in harmony with all the garden seeds I keep in there.  Our thinking was we’d give them another try some other day.

“Some other day” never arrived.  A few years passed, and the big seed packet was all too happy just to sit quietly in the paper bag that houses all my left over seed from previous gardening years.  Seems I almost always buy more seed than I ever actually plant, and I can’t bring myself to toss the leftovers.  I’ve learned that if seeds are kept dry and cool, like in the refrigerator, they stay viable for several years.  Consequently, a small part of the fridge is pretty much always occupied by seed collection.  

We’re not sure how many years the “Broccoli for Sprouting” packet shacked up with the seed collection.  However, it became clear to me that these would never know the inside of our sprouter again, so I decided to plant some.  I figured, hey, if it’s “broccoli for sprouting” maybe it will grow some broccoli for eating.  So way back in 2010, I planted the seeds and waited for the wonderful broccoli to appear. 

Seedlings appeared pretty quickly and from what I could tell, pretty much all of them grew into baby plants.  As they started crowding up the bed, I did the usual practice of thinning them out and bringing the seedlings into the kitchen for several suppers.  Once the plants had plenty of room to stretch out, my sweetie and I noticed that they were very vigorous and had much bigger leaves than we expected.  Leaves were abundant but no florets were appearing; which was the whole idea in the first place.  As winter neared, still no broccoli.   Lots of leaves, but no florets.

All was not by any means lost though.  Since both my lovely girlfriend and I both very much enjoy collard greens, kale, and the like; we figured if the plants won’t make broccoli we’ll just harvest the leaves for dinner.  Little did we know we were in for such a treat!!  The leaves were fleshy and robust like collards, but much more tender.  The flavor was similar to collards, but sweet enough to eat raw.  And when cooked for just a little bit they were simply delicious.  We found a “new” favorite vegetable!   Unbeknownst to us, however, was the fact that our “new” favorite vegetable has in fact been an important food plant for several thousand years.  It was obviously from the same family as broccoli, but now we just had to know:  what the HECK is this amazing plant??

Took me awhile, but an extensive research on the internet got us the answer:  it’s wild cabbage; and bears the Latin name Brassica oleracea.  Click here to read more about —> Brassica oleracea.  It’s almost unknown here in the US, but in Europe it’s been grown as a food crop for at least 4,000 years.  In fact, broccoli, cabbage, and cauliflower all trace their origins to wild cabbage. 

Above is a picture of one of this year’s survivors (click on the picture for a larger image).  Plants in the cabbage family are very tough, and survive our Michigan winters pretty much unscathed.  If covered in snow, they can even withstand subzero temperatures with no problem.  The lovely specimen in the photo above started last year from seed.  I can’t find any more seed for purchase anywhere except a website in Germany.  So, being the seed saver I am, I’m gathering my own to do my part to preserve this wild cabbage.  I even have enough to share some with friends and family!

Late last the summer, I gathered seed pods from one of the plants I started in 2010.  There were so many seed pods I grew weary of the collection process.  After harvesting a big bag full of pods, I uprooted the 7 foot tall plant and started thrashing the ground with it in a new garden space I recently set up.  The scattered seed resulted in about a hundred new wild cabbage plants.   We ate several of them and let the rest sit over the winter.

Here’s a picture of the flower cluster on the top of the plant shown in the picture above. Again, click the picture for a better view: 

“OOOhh!!,” you might say, “that looks kinda like broccoli!!  Only much smaller…”  Well it kinda tastes like broccoli too.  Yes boys and girls, I’ve decapitated several of the plants and we have enjoyed devouring their reproductive organs in several dishes since spring has sprung.  We’ve had them raw, put them in our lunches to microwave them at work, and had several delicious stir fry meals with wild cabbage leaves and flower clusters.

Pretty darn yummy!

One thing we have NOT done is boiled ‘em down…

Way back on March 18^th of this year (almost a month ago!!), there was a protest against the Monsanto Company; which is a leading producer of pesticides and herbicides for farming.  As far as the news media were concerned, the protest made a very small blip on the reporting radar.  Protesters were attempting to elevate consciousness about some of the less-than-Earth-friendly tactics by Monsanto to dominate agricultural markets.  For example, Monsanto is a leading producer of genetically modified seeds for agriculture.  Could be a good thing, right?  Unfortunately, however, farmers who have bought seed from Monsanto, raised the crop, and then saved some of the yield for next year’s planting have been successfully sued by the company for patent infringement.  Strong arm tactics like this, in addition to many other examples of Monsanto’s efforts to dominate agricultural markets, have aroused a lot of scrutiny on the part of environmentalists and organic growers.

One may ask, why all the hoopla about genetically modified seed?  One would think scientists have our best interest in mind when they use genetics to make superior crops.  But organic growers and environmentalists warn that when a monopoly exists on seed, genetic diversity is threatened.  It’s well known that pesticides and herbicides cause health issues for man and beast alike; yet seeds are being genetically engineered to withstand the use of chemical poisons that are sprayed to control weeds and pests.  This, again, could be viewed as a good thing; especially to large scale farmers who plant many acres of a single food plant.  The theory is that by planting seed that is herbicide and pesticide tolerant, one can apply the chemicals to kill weeds and pests with no worry about crop damage.

Unfortunately, this method of farming has become quite commonplace in commercial agriculture.  The result is, of course, large yields of the food crop.  However, as farmers become more dependent on a single source of both seed and chemicals, the supplier gets richer and pollution of the planet increases.  All too much of our food is raised this way, which, of course, means that all too much of our food is laden with chemicals that are affecting the health of us and our fellow creatures.

Whew!  Time for a deep breath!!  If you’ve read this far; you may be asking, OK Ken, this is supposed to be a “Happy Friday!!!”  So like, make with the “Happy” awreddy!!

OK… so sorry.  The whole point of my little soap box journey is to point out that things are, or more accurately have been changing for the better.  Seemed like it’s taken forever but I’ve seen lots of encouraging evidence that we humans are finally wising up about how our food is grown.  Farmers markets are more popular than ever and are growing every year.  More and more people are reading labels and buying as much locally grown food as they can.  And even more encouraging, the “organic movement” is not just some silly dream of long haired hippie freaks.  The “certified organic” label is more prevalent than ever, and many consumers actually prefer organically grown foods.

Our dear friend Pam brought me an article from one of her issues of Organic Gardening Magazine.  It talked about saving your own seed and had some photos of seed packets from the Seed Savers Exchange.  “I thought about you when I saw this,” she said.  “You probably know all about it but I wanted you to see it.”

Well, I’ve finally come to the awareness that I certainly don’t know all about anything.  I’ve found the more I learn, the less I know.

Anyway, I was very grateful for the article.  She probably brought it over because I mentioned that I finally became a member of the Seed Savers Exchange.   In 1973 when I first began my organic gardening journey, Organic Gardening Magazine  was called “Organic Gardening and Farming Magazine.”  Of course, I simply had to subscribe to it, and was a loyal customer for several years. 

You can check them out at their website here—> Organic Gardening Magazine

There were no personal computers in those days, and I vividly remember a fledgling organization showing up in OG, as we tree huggers used to call it.  They called themselves the Seed Savers Exchange and were actively soliciting members.  In those days the only things you needed to become a member were a mailing address and some organically grown, “heirloom” seed to trade.  All the trading was done via a list of “wants” and “haves” that would show up on the pages of OG from time to time.

As I learned when I spent my $40 for a year’s tax-deductible membership, the Seed Savers Exchange began in 1975.  It’s now grown quite a bit; my member number is 938805 if that tells you anything.  To quote my new member welcome letter, “We form a strong network of 13,000 backyard preservationists in all 50 states and 40 different countries.”  They even have their own 890-acre farm in Iowa that is dedicated to raising and preserving heirloom vegetables, fruits, and even livestock. 

And of course, they too now have a website—>  Seed Savers Exchange.

I’m very VERY grateful to see all this… we tree huggers have been spreading the word about organically grown food for many years.  It’s been a slow, subtle, yet powerful movement that will eventually, I believe, be the demise of agribusiness giants like Mosanto.

As the late Gil Scott-Heron said, “the revolution will not be televised.”

So there I was, 10,000 feet in the air, no plane, no parachute, no Blackberry, no iPhone, no Android, no DVR, no cable TV, no power windows, no remote car starter, no flat screen LCD TV…

And lovin’ life!!

I’m basically prehistoricable: which, as most of you know, is not even a real word.  But writing it made me chuckle a bit, and so do people when they poke fun at my “backward lifestyle.”    I mean, hey, I’m getting older… just passed the 58 mark which is horribly close to 60 for cryin’ out loud.  Sixty years old!?!?!  In two years!?!?!  How did this happen?!?!?!   Seems like just a couple months ago the Beatles came to the US on the Mayflower…  So I’m going to play the “senior” card and latch on to my “backward lifestyle.”  I’ll even make “gratuitous” use of “quotes,” and you can’t “stop” me, “so there.”

Anyway, getting older is not so bad.  I’m in pretty good physical shape, my brain is still firing on all 3 cylinders (some of the time), and I’ve gained perspective on what is really important to me.  Take material wealth, for example.  Well heck, you may as well take it, because I ain’t got no any.  Don’t get me wrong… I’m actually quite wealthy, I just don’t have any money.  HUH??  What I mean is, I’m blessed beyond belief; but as far as life goes, I’m still living paycheck to paycheck.  Never seem to get ahead.  I’m sure many of you can relate.

I drive a brand new, 2003 Toyota Corolla with only 258,000 miles on it.  Still runs like it did when I bought it brand new.  And OK, I do have lots of really cool “toys.”  Let’s see… I have a brand new, 2003 vintage desktop computer.  Works very well.  OH!! We have TWO  working VCRs!!  And two Sony 25 inch flat screen TVs!!  Well OK, they are the CRT type…  OOOoo!!  Not to forget the very nice 2001 (I think) vintage Yamaha stereo with brand new 30 year old (or more?) Sansui speakers… sounds like a million dollar stereo.  Seriously, the Sansui SR-71s are some awesome speakers.  I was able to get them for a song not too long ago from our friendly neighborhood appliance dealer, Mr. Olson.  Something very precious about having a relationship with Olson’s TV and Appliance for 36 years.  (Holy CARP I’m gettin’ old…)

No Blu-Ray, no DVR, no cable… we still tape our shows on VHS tapes.  Our TV is free and all of our 31 channels (more in the summer time) are magically received by our Winegard antenna and preamp, which feeds our digital converters that do the job pretty darn well.  My beautiful girlfriend and I both agree that paying for TV is simply not our idea of money well spent.  Besides, considering my addictive personality, I am pretty sure that if we did pay for TV, it would be very easy to rationalize the need to watch more.  We already watch plenty of TV.

I find it pretty amusing when someone at work chides me for having a low tech smell phone.  Many of my peers have iPhones or some other fancy piece of junk. “You’re the IT guy and you have a phone like that??”  I recently heard a coworker snicker.  “Yes!!  And I can use it to cawl my cuzzin Rocco!! You want I should cawl my cuzzin Rocco??”  I replied jokingly. Then I added that I really do have a cousin Rocco and showed that his number was actually in my phone.  “Besides,” I continued, “it’s bad enough I’m on call 24/7, I don’t need to see the e-mail from work every two minutes!!” In a similar vein, we were at the bank yesterday and got to talking about taping our shows. Then of course we got razzed for still using VCRs.  “You gotta get with the 21^st century,” we were told.

Well sorry… I’m one of those fools who waits to spend a bit more on quality so my “toys” will last.  My truly hot girlfriend and I are very content with our stuff… we have absolutely no desire to rush out and buy the latest techno-crap (or any other kind of new and improved crap for that matter) when our old techno-crap still works just fine.

Hey, what can I say.  I’m an ape man!! Prehistoricable awreddy!!

Hello Ladles and Jelly Spoons,

 English is a very strange language.  So many words sound the same but are spelled differently; and have very different definitions.  I’ve learned some rather unique words over the years… some rather weird ones.  Words like adz, and affable, and even crapulous.  My grandmother often sat and read the dictionary, just for the enjoyment of it.  Every now and then I find myself thumbing through a dictionary; although through the use of computers the practice of actually picking up a paper dictionary has become increasingly rare.

 It’s really very little wonder that people of the world find English a difficult learn.  So many rules like ” I before E except after C, unless pronounced A as in neighbor and weigh.”  A person could use words completely incorrectly in a sentence, but a computer’s spell checker would bless the whole mess so long as everything was spelled correctly.  Sew with that in mind, eye wood like two continue this episode of Happy Fry Day bye you sing words that will bee spelled correctly, but are not necessarily used proper lee in a send tense.  

 Four egg sample, the word “ewe” sounds the same as “you” but a “ewe” is a female sheep.  “Yew” makes the same sound but it’s a kind of tree.  I’m thing king yew are knot a female sheep, nor a shrub.  Yew are a per son, sew of coarse you no exactly watt ewe are eye hope.  Eye yam knot shore that any won kin even reed some thing like this.  Four many pee pull, trying two reed words that dew knot bee long two gather is moor like jumping threw a window while there pants are on fire.  They simply kin knot bring themselves two dew it.  And eye four one don’t blame them won little bit. 

 Sew my friends, pleas try to right with proper you sage.  When eye sea words with apostrophes that don’t bee long on them, it makes me wander wear that person’s brain flue off two.  Yew no, like when sum won is selling sum thing, and they have a big sine that says, “Freshly Picked Pear’s” oar sum thing like that.  My question two a sine like that is, “Freshly Picked Pear’s what??”  Ewe sea, an apostrophe is never used when a noun is plural, only to show possession oar may bee as a contraction.  Like, “eye wood like you two meat my pear’s Uncle Bartlett” for possession, or “my pear’s got a big fat worm in it,” as a contraction.  These types of things make me cry inside, but I dew get over it after much less thyme than I used two.

 Any weigh, that’s probably enough strange use of words from the likes of me.  Spring is hear, and it’s thyme two get ready four the garden.  Their four, eye wheel knot fours yew two reed this any further, especially if yew have red this far.  See ewe next thyme, same place, same station.

Until then, pleas have a ferry Happy Day.

 Peas sand Love,

 Ken “Eye Don’t No How Two Spell” Broyvington

 a.k.a. “Mustard Lips Mack”
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May bee English wood bee different if every won had school like this…
 

Well, a Happy Friday to ya, one and all. And a Happy St. Patrick’s Day too! Well that will be tomorrow. For weeks now, local stores here in Michigan have had an “Irish section” of green hats, shamrock thingies, beads, and all kinds of other festive “Irish” artifacts on display. I find that a bit unnerving, because what began as a largely religious festival from Ireland has been morphed into a big commercial holiday here in the US. Lots of money will be spent on all the trinkets and; not to mention the large amount of partying that will be taking place this March 17. (I told you NOT to mention that!!) I’m sure that before all is said and done, there will be several revelers who will enjoy a very green complexion from indulging in a bit too much green beer.

As in previous years, however, this boy won’t be celebrating St. Patrick’s Day. Nothing against the Irish mind you. I have lots of respect for the country and its people. Many a time I’ve prayed for them all to be safe during the violent times when Northern Ireland was in turmoil. Aside from all of that though, I have a family connection: our maternal grandfather emigrated from Ireland to the US.

On the other hand, you have the Vikings. Those hail from my father’s side of the family. Our grandparents were Norwegian immigrants, straight from Norse country. When we were growing up, every March 17 Mom would remind us that her father was Irish and that we’d better wear some green to avoid getting pinched. And we darned well better NOT wear orange; which, we were told, was a British color and therefore never to be worn on St. Patty’s day. I even remember being the proud bearer of a button my mother pinned to my shirt that said, “Erin Go Bragh,” (the anglicised version of Éirinn go Brách) which most people translate to “Ireland Forever.”

When I grew up and left home for the Air Force, I got busy with the party scene; and I’m sure I’ve partied down on more than one St. Patty’s Day. Although I’ve probably imbibed to the point of turning green, I can actually say that I’ve ever had green beer. Doesn’t really matter… I eventually learned that I’m allergic to any and all alcoholic beverages so I don’t indulge in that kind of stuff anymore….

“Do you want a beer Ken?”

“No thanks, I’m allergic.”

“Oh really? What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t drink; because if I do, I seem to break out in a rash of traffic violations.”

“Ha ha… OK!!”

Well, not ha ha really… let’s just say that being clean and sober has been very, very good to me.

So there I was, clean and sober, minding my own business, watching PBS, thinking of a run-on sentence; when suddenly there was a documentary about the Vikings. The Danish & Norwegian kind, not the football kind. And what to my wondering eyes (and ears) did appear but another good reason to stay off green beer!! You see, I learned that the reason there are many Irish people who have red hair and blue eyes is because the Vikings invaded Ireland way back in the late 700s. They hung around for a few hundred years and raped and pillaged the indigenous Irish folks, thereby adding some of their Viking blood to the Irish gene pool.

So… our maternal grandfather was Irish. Our paternal grandfather and grandmother were Norwegian. Conclusion? MY ANCESTORS RAPED AND PILLAGED MY ANCESTORS!! Oy yoy yoy!!

I don’t celebrate St. Patrick’s Day anymore. I have absolutely no qualms with those who do; by all means, enjoy but please don’t hurt yourselves with too much green beer or whatever.

I have long lost the “Erin Go Bragh” button my mother gave me all those years ago. However, as a form of amends, I offer this to my Irish kin (and all other Irish for that matter: Irland: Fred Og Kjærlighet

Thanks to Google Translator, I learned that’s Norwegian for “Ireland: Peace And Love.”

Fred Og Kjærlighet to ALL of you out there, Irish or not.

Now… I’ve never really believed in leprechauns, but I do remember this cartoon from way back when…