Kakahead

Corporate greed.  That’s what my friends and I have been talking about at work lately.  Recent events at work have slammed home the awful truth that the people who call the shots in corporations like ours live in a different universe.  They really don’t care much about the average family person who is trying to make a living.  They may say they do, but they really don’t.  Otherwise, jobs in this country would not be moved to other countries.  Sure, if we kept the jobs here it would “cost more to do business,” which mostly seems to mean that the big shots wouldn’t get their millions.  Well maybe they don’t need millions.  Does anybody really need more than a million dollars??  Not me… so they can just give me a million and I’ll quit complaining about corporate greed.

Or not…

Anyway, since I know people whose jobs are in jeopardy I thought maybe I’d try to be a helpful with this week’s Happy Friday thing.  I have been the victim of corporate downsizing in the past; so I’ve been there and done that.  It wasn’t the end of the world.  Actually it was the beginning of a pretty cool journey.  I explored some alternative career ideas and got to know myself and my family better.  And finally after many moons of being out of work, I got a job.

One thing I’ve learned is:  probably the most important ingredient of a good job hunt is a resume.  Keep it to a single page.  Emphasize your strengths and achievements, and especially focus on the skills you have that an employer needs.  What I ended up doing was keeping a general resume “on file” and modified it to suit the particular job I was targeting.

Another good tool is an introductory cover letter.  For a guide, I dug one of my old ones out of my archives and thought I would share it with you.  You have my permission to steal it and alter it in any way you see fit.  This one may (or may not) be the exact same letter I sent to Ludmilla Sunkenchin, who was HR director of Blammo Manufacturing.  So without any further ado, here it be:

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To Whom It May Concern,

This is in response to the advertisement for a Working Type Person. I understand that you were accepting money up front, to get people jobs and stuff like that. I intended to respond sooner, but a small cow has been telling me things and forced me to listen. Please consider this as a letter of application because I need a stinking job.

The jerks I have been working for at XYZ Industries these past 27 days have laid me off ; and I’m sure I don’t need to tell a person like you how that makes me squirm inside.  However, I believe that I the skills I acquired there were probably useless, but that doesn’t really matter now does it??. I’m really good at taking breaks, and I know how to impress the best of them. I figure that if you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bull manookey. I worked on various types of equipment during my career at XYZ, but most of it was pretty old and always screwing up, so I don’t really know how to run anything without a large hammer in the immediate vicinity.

I have computer experience… after all, I do own a Sony Playstation.  Them video games have really increased my ability to react quickly under stress. There goes a fly! HA! Got it!!  See what I mean? As for my ability to interact with others, I enjoy meeting new people, especially when they give me money. Those are the nice ones, ya know?

Please let me know the exact date upon which I can expect to apply my skills at your place of employment. I am available for an interview, and would enjoy the opportunity to give you $20 up front and more if I get the job. I will be “checking in” frequently with you to keep tabs on your progress in hiring me.  Get back to me soon, or else you may soon find some “souvenirs” from my kitty’s litter box in your mail slot.

Ha ha, just kidding I think maybe.

Thank You,

ME (you will learn more about me during the hiring process, and especially when I have learned of my start date)

P.S.: I can’t work where women are present, because I usually have pretty offensive gas.  Also, if there are men around, they should stay away from me, because they normally have even worse gas than me.  Other than that, I can do work real good unless I don’t feel like doing what you ask me to do.  In cases like that, just ask me what I feel like doing that day and I’ll probably get right to it.

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Well my friends there you have it.  As I said, feel free to use this cover letter in its entirety if you wish.  Or maybe tweak it a little… but I think it stands on its own merit.  If you find it useful, please let me know very soon; as I also have some bridge property for sale at reduced rates for special people like you.

Or perhaps you’d go for some yummy, roly-poly fish heads!!

When writing about something as important as Mother’s Day, the task pretty much mandates a little research.  Alright, maybe it’s not a mandate. But as I sat staring at the title that jumped out of my keyboard and onto the page, I couldn’t help being curious about where all this Mother’s Day stuff originated.  Turns out there have been several holidays over the eons devoted to mothers; dating back perhaps thousands of years.

Here in the US, the holiday as we now know it was created by Anna Jarvis in 1908.  Her efforts resulted in President Woodrow Wilson proclaiming it a national holiday in 1914.  Unfortunately, the occasion quickly became commercially “interesting” to merchandisers; to the chagrin of Ms. Jarvis.  Even she reportedly began to refer to Mother’s Day as a “Hallmark Holiday.”

Even so, God knows there is no more deserving soul to be honored than Mom.  Your Mom, my Mom, Mother Nature, and so on.  In the case of me and my siblings; I’m amazed that our mother made it through the ordeal of raising the four of us without completely going bonkers.   We grew up in the late 50s and through the 60s, where Dad was “king of the castle” and Mom was the keeper of the household.  In other words, Dad earned the money and Mom did the best she could to keep us fed and clothed.   Considering some of the “challenges” my Dad introduced into that equation she did a remarkable job.

Mom was the cook, bottle washer, laundry attendant and mending master.  She knew how to comfort us when we were sad; and she knew how to put us in our place when we acted up.  We were raised on Long Island, New York during a time when “The Honeymooners” was still on TV.  Even if you didn’t live in Brooklyn, people were not afraid to yell to get their point across.  I once had a fond remembrance of when the four of us were driving her nuts; and Mom shouted, “YOUSE GODDAMN KIDS!!”   When I mentioned it to my mother many years later, she quickly replied, “I never said that!!”

Of course not.

Anyway, she raised us the best she knew how.  Did a darn good job of it too.   Although she was not really the touchy-feely type; we knew that she loved us and would do anything in her power to make life better for us.

She must have been heart broken when I ran off with “that girl.”  At the time, that was how Dad referred to my beautiful girlfriend.  Relations with my Dad were usually tense, so leaving home seemed like the natural next step.  I joined the Air Force and was married to my sweetie all in the course of a year after graduation from high school.  It would be many years before I would really understand how difficult it had to be for both of them.   My lovely wife and I raised a daughter and son and we get restless if we don’t see them for a week, much less a year or more.

Mom did the best she knew how.  She was the product of a generation where the woman bowed to the husband, regardless of how deep the BS puddle became.  We didn’t tell each other “I love you.”  There was very little hugging, and if Dad was around, whatever you do, don’t cry “or I’ll give you something to cry about.”   Deep down, however, we knew we were loved, albeit the methods at time seemed a bit harsh.

Just like any new parents, my beautiful wife and I were determined to “do a better job than our parents did.”   The words “I love you” were uttered every day, often multiple times.  We had plenty of hugs to go around, plenty of time spent.  And when I would get up on my high horse, my lovely wife would get a stick and knock me down from there.   Well OK not literally, but you get the idea.  I probably presented the same “challenges” into our new family that my Dad interjected into family life when we were being raised.  One thing for sure, if you are interested in growing up, try having kids!

My Mom and Dad have both been gone for several years.   Dad and I managed to patch things up before he left this life, thank God.  And Mom did her best to cope with losing the love of her life until she finally left also.  Funny how things evolve… as of this writing I can honestly say that I’ve learned to flush the bad memories and cherish the good ones.

So to my Mom, and to my lovely Wife Mom, and now to our daughter who’s also a Mom, and to all the Mothers in the Universe:

THANK YOU.  GOD BLESS YOU.  I LOVE YOU.

So there.

Here’s a cute video I found that pretty much sums up a day in the life of Mom.

If bean plants could talk, they’d ask the onions to leave the premises immediately. This is for real, people!  They’d pinch their noses and shout thusly:  “Hey! You wid da face! You’re pudding a big hurt od by doze! Gid oudda here awreddy! Can’t lib here wid dis stinking.”

The onions cry. After all, they can’t help the fact that they were born with a natural fragrance that bean plants find offensive.  Not to worry, the cabbage family is happy to have onions in the neighborhood. Must like that Italian cooking, maybe?

Forgive me while I indulge in this good stink / bad stink talk. In these parts, It’s time to start the garden up, and I get to thinking out loud about who goes where in the dirt.  Companion planting is a cool thing for us organic-type gardeners, because if plants can be happy together, they are much healthier.  Having healthy plants means more yield and fewer problems with bugs and diseases.

Onions exude chemicals that prevent beans, peas, and other legumes from making nitrogen in the soil with their toes. If you’ve ever yanked a bean plant out of the dirt, you might have noticed the rhizomes (little round bumps) on the roots. Well, the beans do NOT have tumors.  The rhizomes are where the action is:  bean-friendly bacteria live there and make nitrogen for the bean plants and anyone else who happens to be nearby.  That is, unless the onions are in town. Then they just sit there, remaining all tiny and twiddling their toes.

Cabbage and its relatives (broccoli, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, etc.) love those onions, because they help keep the cabbage butterflies away, and also keep the aphid population down. Both of those bugs love their cabbage, but, like beans, most bugs also hate onion breath.

Corn says thank you to the beans and peas for being there and doing the cool nitrogen toe jam thing. The beans and peas give the corn a high five for wind protection and shade. Corn plants also make nice poles for peas and runner beans to hang on to.  Between the corn rows, squash or pumpkins get the shade they like, and they in turn shade the corn’s roots and keep them cool. Everybody happy.

On the other hand, you have marigolds. OK, maybe you don’t. Those can go near anything. All the vegetable clans love marigolds, and they even stimulate growth.  My kinda plants!

Grandmas and Grandpas used to know lots of this stuff, and Native Peoples were very much in tune to companion planting.  Farm and garden chemical companies would love for you to forget all about that stuff though.   Those fancy commercials showing folks winning cool prizes for big veggies do tend to get one’s attention. Unfortunately, chemical companies are conveniently quiet about the nasty stuff  flowing into our lakes and streams when herbicides and pesticides are washed out of our dirt during a good rain.

But fear not, organic produce are finally becoming “more mainstream. ‘People are “discovering” that when the pilgrims found the Indians were growing pumpkins in their corn, it was no accident.

A big reason I like this kind of gardening is that I’m basically a cheapskate. Hey, what’s the sense in buying fertilizer when you can get it for free? All those coffee grounds, veggie peels, and just about any food garbage (except meat) makes great compost, which builds strong plant bodies 127 ways. Sure, you can put down some Green Thumb Remarkable Powder and grow just about anything in sand, but like I said, as soon as it rains, that stuff runs off during a rain, causing big pollution problems.  Compost boosts organic matter in the soil.  When I started my garden here in the ancient year of 1982, my garden plot was basically Michigan beach sand.  Now, after years of tilling many loads of leaves, composted manure, and cover crops into the soil, I have some nice rich sandy loam.  Everybody knows how things grow in black dirt.  And why use herbicides when you can plop down a mess of leaves or hay around the plants to keep the weeds down?

Back to the beans a second (uh-oh, he’s gonna get weird again). I know some people who agree with beans about the onions. Some folks just can’t stand onions or the smell of them. Might say something like, “No kissy face for you until you brush them chompers!”   Onions and beans are great food things. I love them both, and regard them as almost cosmic. Of course, there is a by-product of eating too much of either:  methane. In its natural state, methane is colorless and odorless.  When generated  by human food eating machines,  it is often released with a “PHOOT!!” noise and can have a rather diSTINKtive odor.

HOLY COW!! I JUST HAD A BRAIN-FART!!  We may be able to achieve world peace with this combination!  Get regiments of bean eaters, right?  March them into enemy territory two or three hours after the whole bunch of them cram a few truckloads of bean burritos laced with onions in their faces. No troops in their right mind would try to fight against anyone during such a gas attack.  We’re talking victory with no chemical weapons here!  Peace could be had without firing a shot, except for the occasional audible report from those burrito eaters.  The only hitch would be to strictly enforce an important rule, which would need to be posted with very large placards:

ABSOLUTELY NO SMOKING ALLOWED.

So the moral of the story is: if you must plant beans and onions together, plant them in your tummy, not in the dirt.

And please, always remember to visualize whirled peas.

I was in the U-Scan (self checkout) at our local grocer yesterday, and a young lady in the other aisle said, “tomorrow’s Earth Day, Mom.”  Being the smarty pants that I am, I blurted out, “EVERY day is Earth Day.”

What can I say?  I just can’t help it.

Can it really be the April 22 was the 40^th Earth Day already?  Holy Carp I’m getting up there.  I was 16 in 1970.  Sheesh, seems like last week.  I wondered what ever became of the Earth Day flag.  I found a picture of it on line, but I can’t post it because it has a copyright warning and I’m too lazy to ask permission.   However, you can click on this link and go look for yourself:

http://www.inhabitat.com/wp-content/uploads/earthdayflag2.jpg

I’d love to say I’m all warm and fuzzy about the progress we’ve made, but there’s so much more to do.  I want to scream every time I see someone with bottled water.  Of course, I’m not interested in banning bottled water completely.  There are times when it’s the easiest way to get safe drinking water like during a disaster, etc.  But most of the time, bottled water is a big fat waste.   Many times the source is municipally treated water.  In other words, it’s tap water in a plastic bottle (made from petroleum), which gets shipped many miles from to a place that already has municipally treated water.

Then you have that silly crop way too many people are raising at home:  the lawn.  Chemicals, water, exotic seed, and machines to make it grow and cut it down are consuming ridiculous amounts of energy and causing unnecessary pollution.  You may ask, “so, Mr. Tree Hugger Hippie Freak, are you for banning lawns too?”  Well let’s put it this way, I’m married and my beautiful girlfriend likes to have a lawn.  So yes, I’m for banning lawns but I’m too chicken not to grow one at our house.  Fortunately, though, we’ve made a truce and we don’t use any chemicals at all, but we do mow it.  Still, it makes absolutely no sense to me that we humans spend so much effort raising a crop we don’t eat.

As far as crops we DO eat, the chemical companies and large agribusiness firms are still pretty much keeping a strangle hold in the food business.   However, farmer’s markets are thriving more and more each year, and the customers are favoring organically grown veggies and fruits.  At our  house, we’ve been growing produce organically for almost 37 years (which coincidentally is how long we’ve been married).   I can’t help but think the chemical firms and the large corporate farms are suppressing news reports about organically grown food.  Once in awhile though, you actually hear the “scientific discovery” that organically grown food is healthier and much more Earth friendly.

We are getting a little better with more efficient cars.  However, we are also still affluent enough that several of us humans choose monster trucks and fancy cars that are not meant for fuel efficiency.  Compared to Europe, our mass transit system barely exists.  We could conserve a lot of fuel by switching from trucks to trains.   Here in the U.S. we’ve converted way too many railways into bike paths.  And no, I’m not trying to ban bike paths, but trains are a very efficient means of transport.   We’re still way too dependent on fossil fuels, but we’re making progress there (albeit painfully slowly).

And what about turning of the stinkin’ lights when they’re not in use??  Not just at home… Mom and Dad always yelled at us to turn lights off so most of us are pretty much conditioned to do that.  Ever go past a shopping mall after 9 p.m. (or later)?  The lights are all going full blast.  Holy Carbon Footprint, Batman!!

Sheesh.

I could go on and on, but here’s one more completely wasteful human activity:  WAR. What a huge waste of energy, natural resources, and of course human lives.   Of course, let’s not forget the pollution that is caused from explosions and other chemical assaults on ourselves and our poor planet.  You may ask, “so, Mr. Tree Hugger Hippie Freak, are you for banning wars too?”   A MILLION TIMES: YES!!  War, pure and simple, is a form of hell on Earth and must be banned forever.

OK so I’m a dreamer.  It’s a dirty job but somebody’s gotta do it (yell about banning war I mean).  And I’m sure I’m not alone on that one.

Well folks, Happy Earth Day, Every Day, Every Year. Please do something nice for your Mother (Nature) very soon.

Some of you kids may remember this song.  The video is a bit fuzzy, but it appears to be made by Spirit, the band who recorded it way back when.

Peace!!

Here I am again crying in my dog food about the driving ninnies. Sure glad the snow is gone! Now we can be treated to much better driving conditions and won’t have to worry about sliding into the ditch as we leave our driveway. No more hitting the windshield with a sledgehammer to remove those pesky chunks of ice. I’ve even had the chance to crank the windows DOWN and the tunes UP. Coolness!

Of course, with every silver cloud comes a grey lining. Warm weather kicks in a well known ailment in some people. Officially, I just named this disease auto-idiotica, and many of you know this age-old affliction as, “hey you with the Cracker Jacks driver’s license!!”

You know what I mean. Stupid flameheaded wombats that believe they’re the only ones on the road. You are in their way, so watch carefully during the warm weather months. These people have dog breath and improper grooming habits, and are EVERYWHERE. Some symptoms are: weaving in and out of traffic, severe tailgate-itis, driving 130 mph over the limit, and passing on the right on a two lane road. At intersections. While honking. Although they are ignorant of the fact, idiot drivers have chicken lips, and are known to cavort with barnyard animals during Mardi Gras.

Used to be a time when moronic motorists were restricted to the male population. Unfortunately, however, women are learning from us dudes, and are beginning to do the “tailgate-till-you-move” dance when you’re going less than 85 mph in the right lane on the expressway. It never matters that you’re already going five over the limit and are sanely going past Grandma and Grampa Sightseer. But as far as numbers, dumdum boy drivers still far outnumber dodo girl drivers.

I’m still truly compressed by the number of mush-minded monkeys that try to pull the trim off my car as they fly past me on the expressway. Hey, the limit in Michigan is already 70. Nobody really needs to go more than 75, ok? It just ain’t safe! Sure, you can go, but try to safely miss that deer or broken car. Problem with me, I guess, is that I’m getting to be an old fart. At least some kids would label me so. But because I’m over 50 I remember the high speed limits from the beforetimes. You know,before the Arab oil embargo (say wha??). A lot of people raced around back then, and ended up being “dead on time.” During the embargo, Tricky Dick (President Nixon for you youngsters) and his friends pushed a nationwide maximum speed limit of 55 mph to save fuel. Silly guy… not only did we save fuel but also lots of lives. But then the oil started flowing again and the speed limits went back up; and the lunatics again raced about on the roads.

Very sad, the road rage that is spreading these days.  Too many people in a terrible hurry.  And of course if you are “in their way” they will show the likes of you.  Especially if you drive a small foreign car like I do:

“Watch this, rice burner person! Watch while I remove a few thousand miles worth of wear by vaporizing the surface of my tires! Watch how well I can ruin my transmission! Ha ha! I shall show the likes of you! I’ll accelerate wildly so I can tailgate the next jerkface who has the nerve to drive courteously!! Then I’ll pass on the right, and also on the left. But just to show you I mean business, I’ll wait for oncoming traffic and barely pull back in on time! Ha ha! I listen to the COOLEST music very loudly and am ruining my hearing with 92 inch woofers! Boy are you stupid!!”

Such intelligent beings are often mystified when they receive a ticket. After all, it was not their fault they were going 84 that day, because that cop is NEVER there! Or… they run the same stop sign all the time, BECAUSE THEY LIVE THERE and there’s NEVER ANY TRAFFIC.

I don’t want the reader to get any funny ideas about the possibility that reckless driving scares me or anything. It PETRIFIES me. Wanna know why? Because I used to be a Mr. Moron Motorist! Been there, done that! Thank God I never hurt anyone. I did, however, manage to rack up many tickets in younger days. Too many. But boy, the insurance company was happy with me!! I wanted to continue driving, and they were only too happy to take lots of my money in exchange for minimal coverage.

Lucky for me, I learned; albeit the hard way. Haven’t had even so much as a parking ticket for over 28 years. This is a good thing. I can breathe much more easily, and so can my wallet. It’s always empty anyway, but at least it’s not red when I put a nice, crisp dollar bill in there.

I keep my eyes peeled for the loonies now, and know pretty much what they’re gonna do when they get near me. I just stay out of their way and let them go by. Safer that way. I paid my dues, and I’m sure they’ll pay theirs in one form or another. These days I’m content with putting my cruise on 65 MPH so I can keep my fuel consumption at a lousy 40 mpg (Ha, ha ha you Hummer peoples, I laugh to you).

Anybody seen the keys to my rice burner?

Well, after all that ranting, I went hunting for a video to post. Found this one on YouTube and found it rather amusing.

We live in a swamp.  Bear Swamp, to be precise.  It’s not called Bear Swamp much these days, but the elders of the community informed us of the name some years back when my beautiful wife and I were attending a Cub Scout dinner.  We got to chatting with some friendly old timers sitting near us, and they asked, “so where ’bouts do you live??”  When we told them, they said, “oh yes, you live in Bear Swamp.”  They know that Bear Creek (pronounced “crick” unless you’re a city dweller) runs through our property, and they also know that we are in a low spot.  And we know very VERY well that if it thaws quickly in the spring, we get water.  We are also very much aware of why many people around here don’t have basements.  And if they do, they definitely have a sump pump, and their house’s foundation sticks up at least three blocks above the ground.

Living in a swamp can have its advantages though, believe it or not.  First and foremost, we will likely never run out of water.  Several times over the years when storms have killed the power, we’d just take the wheel barrow down to the creek and fill several 5-gallon buckets to use for flushing the toilet.  Don’t have to dig very far to make a pond, either.  Since animals love water, we share our property with lots of wildlife.  One of our favorite types of wildlife that appears this time of year is spring peepers.  The song they sing is a sure sign that the warm weather is not far away.

For those of you who have the terrible misfortune of not knowing peepers, they are little frogs that make loud “peep” noises when the snow is all gone.  There are times when the little froggies are singing so loudly, you can hardly hear yourself think.   They are singing even as I write this.  Can’t you hear them??? In a few weeks, the toads will be joining in with their high pitched “whirrrrrrr” call.  Last but not least are the bullfrogs.  We love their song dearly.  Sure you can’t hear them???  Oh wait.  you probably don’t live in a swamp.  Well, I have a little treat for you… click here to listen toThe Lovely Song of Spring Peepers and Their Friends

One drawback of spring, however, is the appearance of land mines all over our yard.  Anyone here let their dogs outside to go potty?  Raise your hands… Well, here in Bear Swamp, we are borrowing 5 acres of land.  I say borrowing, because I believe like the Native Americans did:  nobody owns land, we borrow it from the Creator while we’re living on it.  Musky Da Husky would run to the North Pole and back if we let him loose outside, so he gets hooked up to a 50 foot chain when he has to go potty.  All this is great when there’s snow.  He goes outside, he poops in the snow, the poop disappears and ultimately freezes.  Frozen dog poop is suitable for being stepped on, because not only is it invisible (buried in the snow) but it doesn’t stick to your shoe.  And the snow makes a wonderful cloaking device for doggie doo.  Out of sight, out of mind.  Fine with us.

Then comes the spring thaw, crocuses, pussy willows, and the peepers.  But what to our wondering eyes did appear but eight thousand dog doodies over there and over here!!  Gack! And thawed dog dirt is not at all pleasant to walk on.  It can reduce a grown man to tears when the horrible “squish” moment arrives, and then of course the stench rises up into your nostrils.  Interesting, the physics of dog logs.  Well kinda I guess.  But now that I think about it, I’m strangely intrigued about why a big gob of hound dookey stinks to high heaven right after you step in it.  I mean, if it stunk that badly before you got it all over your new Nikes, you’d be less likely to walk where the canine caca is, right??  You’d get a big nose alarm and if you had any experience at all with stepping in dog crap, you’d take evasive action.

Maybe mutts are in a conspiracy, and they coat their logs with some sort of protective membrane that seals in the poopy aroma until we break the seal with our tootsies.  Who knows?  All I know for sure is that our husky can make the lawn a very dangerous place to walk in a very short time.  Sure he looks innocent enough, but I am beginning to wonder whether he intentionally makes little land mines out of poop especially for us.

We also have cats, and they go outside and actually bury their poop!  Such a novel concept!  Musky… do you see what the kitty is doing?  Pay attention boy!  No don’t dig it up and eat it!!!  Sheesh!!

So we live in a swamp.  With the snow gone, we’re basically living in The Land of Peepers and Poopers.  After writing all that stuff about dog doo, now my mind is wondering what happens to peeper poop.

Well OK, maybe I’d rather not know.

OK, if you look below this post you’ll see I’m ON VACATION.  So, I’ll post more stuff after I come back.

Peace,

Ken

Dear Antenna Ranchers,

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

On vacation.

Have I mentioned I’m not working tomorrow??  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 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”



Ah yes, I remember it well.  Way back in October of nineteen hundred and sixty two, Columbus sailed the oceans blue.  Of course any schoolchild can remember the three ships he used to discover Atlanta:  the Nina, the Pinta, and the Sacagawea.  Having finally been discovered, the residents of Atlanta rejoiced with great happiness and had cause for wildly joyous celebration.  It was at this time Coca Cola was invented by mixing wonderfully flavorful ingredients with the melting snows of March just before the eve of St. Patrick’s Day.  Then of course the Vikings came from Minnesota and conquered everyone involved by kabonking them on the noggins with their footballs.

Perhaps I am a little less than accurate with my history, but if you don’t believe me the burden of proof is on YOU!!  HAHAHA!!  So THERE!

Seriously folks, I just flew in from the coast, and boy are my arms tired.  Doctor!!  It hurts when I do this!  (DON’T DO THAT!!)

Anyway, you see, it’s like this:  Dad was 100% Norwegian (a Viking).  Mom’s father was straight from Ireland.  Her mom was Austro-Hungarian, which means absolutely nothing to today’s schoolchildren.  Anyway, Mom used to celebrate St. Patty’s Day like any good Catholic should.  We each had to wear something green, had to say “Erin go bragh” at least once on the special day, and ate corned beef and cabbage.  St. Patty’s Day was kinda fun, and it also meant something very important:  spring and of course the Easter Bunny were right around the corner.  Life as a kid was simple, everything had a very brief explanation, and you were cool with it.  And as a kid growing up on Long Island, New York I hung out with lots of Irish kids.  We were not only good friends, we even had some physical traits in common:  freckles for example.  I had lots, they had lots.  They had red hair.  I had really blonde hair as kid which turned reddish brown as I got older.

So then I made a big mistake:  I grew up. Am I a ninny or what??  I did what so many others did while growing up, I sought answers.  I did crazy and exotic things like watch public TV.  And there on Nova or something was this history of the Vikings.  Those crazy guys were the gang members of yesteryear, and they terrorized much of Europe and beyond.  And I learned that of one of their favorite hangouts was:  Ireland.  No big deal, right??  WRONG!!! It yanked the innocence carpet right out from under me.  From what the historians had to say, the Irish never really had freckles or red hair until the Vikings came a-conquering and started messing with their gene pool.  All that raping and pillaging left its mark..

OK so like, what’s the big deal??  Well I’ll tell ya, it spoiled St. Patty’s Day for me, awright??  Vikings on my Dad’s side and Irish on my Mom’s side.  Hmmm…. According to history, my ancestors raped and pillaged my ancestors!!  Gack!!  I hope they have apologized over the years.  I don’t want to get in the middle of any dueling banjo family feud stuff.  Or would that be reindeer antler / shileleagh fights??  Heck, I don’t know.  What I do know is that no matter how much I try, I’m still not really fond of corned beef and cabbage.  And since I’m allergic to alcoholic beverages (they make me break out in traffic violations) (among other things) (you wouldn’t want to go there, trust me) (OK enough with the parentheses already), as I said since I’m allergic to alcoholic beverages, I won’t be drinking any green beer.  Heck even when I was a drinker, green beer never really sounded yummy to me.

I truly hope all the Irish enjoy their upcoming holiday.  All of my silly bantering cannot take anything away from the importance of St. Patrick to his country and its wonderful people.  Those who know me understand that I’m pretty much full of cabbage soup (or something) much of the time.  If I have offended anyone please allow me to invite you over and I’ll try to make nice… we can sit by the fireplace and dip our corned beef  in some lime Kool-Aid, and I’ll even let you draw a shamrock on my arm with a magic marker.  Then we could sing a few verses of “When Irish Eyes Are Smilin’.”  I’ll even wear my Viking hat and clunk myself silly with my reindeer antler shileleagh.

Or not.

Erin Go Bragh!!

My belly button and I will be celebrating another birthday soon.  I think the rest of my body got older also…  Don’t worry, everything still works.  In fact, things may even be improving somewhat… at least in some respects.  Life is pretty darn good.  However, since I’ve been an official member of the AARP for awhile now, I’d like to share a few observations I’ve made about this “getting older” business:

Some down sides:

1) The hair in my ears, nose, and eyebrows grows better than the hair on my head. I figure if I lose too much more of my mop, I’ll just let all the other stuff grow out and comb it over.

Q) My body stores fat more readily than ever before.  I’m beginning to believe that all I really have to do is LOOK at food and I will gain ten pounds. Unless, of course, I’m looking at celery or carrots; they don’t fatten me. But it seems to take 430 days of drinking 34 glasses of water a day and eating nothing but bunny food to effect the loss of 1/2 pound or so. Unless I exercise.  If I run 27 miles before I have breakfast, I might be able to lose another 0.001 pound.

9) I am older than many of the people I see at work!   This has never happened to me before.  They don’t seem to mind, though. Folks just humor me when I reminisce about when the Beatles came over on the Mayflower and stuff like that. “Remember the race riots in ’67? Oh, you weren’t born yet? Ok, you, shut up and go away. Wait… you gonna eat that Twinkie??”

F) The “good old days” consisted of obsolete technology.  I’m not talking IBM 8088 computers or “new” calculators that would actually do a square root and only cost $60 either. I’m talking Univac, a huge computer built with vacuum tubes, and watching my favorite TV programs in glorious Black and White, because that’s all there was.  Radios and TV sets all had tubes in them, and you had to wait 30 seconds for them to warm up before getting anything. Oh, and not to forget record players.  Man, I’m getting ancient here!

But believe it or don’t, there really are some positive things about this aging business:

A) I don’t have the emotional roller coaster I used to ride around on all the time.  Man, growing up was the pits!!  Well, OK, not all the time.  There was quite a bit of fun along the way.  However, don’t know about you folks, but this boy sure spent way too much time weeping and gnashing his teeth. These days, I try to be grateful and count my blessings instead of whining and numbering all my troubles.  Works most of the time.  And I have more patience than I’ve ever had…

Take driving, for example. Used to be a daily thing for me to get totally ticked off at idiot drivers. Someone would cut me off, right? So I’d get an adrenalin rush, and catch up to them to yell something like this:   “Hey Chicken Lips! Examine my angry red face while I display one of my more memorable fingers to your eye things! You have no brain! I question your ancestral heritage! I believe you are a bark eater!”  All the while, my skin would be crawling with adrenalin goose bumps, and that funny taste would linger in the back of my mouth. I didn’t really like the feeling, but it took quite awhile for me to put it all into perspective. Nowadays, if a mentally ill driving person does me some dirt, I mutter something like, “oh thank you, Flavorhead. See you in the obituaries.” They never get to see me lose my temper, and with any luck, I never see them again, anyway.  This is probably a good thing, because you just never know who might have a bazooka or something lying next to them on the driver’s seat.

12) My wife and I still chase each other, and it’s better than ever!  Except for that one time she wanted to invite that camel over for pizza and fake wine (maybe that was a dream).

C5) I make more money than I ever have before. Well, ok, I spend more money than I ever have before, too. In fact thanks to Visa Money Bucket Plastic Land, I can spend money I don’t have. But what the heck, my Mom and Dad didn’t leave me anything, so the least I can do is return the favor for my kids.

So, hey, life is pretty darn good. I doubt that I’m going to get younger, so I guess I’ll have to accept the fact that I’m becoming a “walking antique.”  In previous years, I’ve found myself spending way too much time dwelling on the negative, but these days I try to do a little better each year.  You know, eating right, exercising, and all that other yada yada yada.  Besides, I just might get really good at styling all that ear, nose, and eyebrow hair.

Perhaps the biggest bonus I’ve acquired along the path of this journey we call life is peace of mind.  I’ve learned (albeit sometimes the hard way) to use a few coping skills that have helped me mellow out quite a bit.  Like my reaction to change, for example.  I’m not really fond of Dennis Miller’s brand of humor, but he said a pretty neat thing awhile ago:  “Life is like riding the bus.  It requires change.”  Lots of stuff changing at work. At home too.  And in the news??  Forget about it awreddy!!  Stuff that used to make my brain explode now simply seems like an annoying little fly to be swatted out of my face.  What’s that expression…? Don’t sweat the petty things.   Or is that don’t pet the sweaty things??  You know, those two rules for stress management:  1) don’t sweat the small stuff, and 2) everything is small stuff.

It reminds me of a poem…  maybe because I made it up:

Das Bizzyvink

by Me, the Person

The stress tried to kill me, but right now it’s gone.

I mowed all the garbage and dumped out the lawn.

Drove backwards to work, it’s a new way to say,

“Hey all of you ninnies, get out of my way!”

When stress is a color, it’s probably red.

It burns up my innards and blushes my head.

It’s much better just to chill out, you see,

So there’s not too much STRESS and too little of ME.

Ya shoor, in my head there arose such a clatter,

From stressing about things that really don’t matter.

But these days I’m much better, if you don’t mind my saying.

More fun I am having, more games I am playing.

Well, I’m hoping to take stuff less seriously now.

I’ve been here before, so I think I know how.

I’ll try to stay happy and whistle while working.

More “Happy Joy Joy,” and less “You are a Jerk”-ing.

Well, this is me leaving now.  Hope all of you have a nice time on my belly button’s birthday.  And as I’ve often said, please remember that it’s better to be you than for you to be me, and that although you can count to 8, “eight” is a word.