In case it seems like I haven't had a lot of fun mixed in amongst the weeds, it HAS been an uphill climb, but when I stub my toe occasionally, watching ROSIE laugh seems to make it all worthwhile!
it has helped lately, when things get rough, or like now when both myself and Rose are dealing with the flu, and have to still get did what needs doin' that I have always believed God NEVER gives you more than you can handle. I DID NOT however realize he's take that as a CHALLENGE!
Or as ROSIE puts it, God never closes a door without opening a window.
(Which, when you think about it, isn't all that comforting if you happen to live on the 18th floor on the backside of a building burning in front of and UNDER you...)
.
***
Saturday, February 10, 2018
Friday, February 9, 2018
At Phil's behest
Okay. I know. I go over a year without posting, then do the unforgivable, and post about kittens!
So, I'll go over a few salient points in a 'year in review' sorta thing, and maybe go off on a rant or two if one happens by while I'm swiping this tiny little screen.
I still have shoddy connectivity on the phone service, and web is almost non existent. So I don't got no computer, 'cept this phone. Broke screen on it too. So if some of my typing gets a little skewed, it's the cracks running through the text, and in no way literary ineptitude.
Hmm.... Let's see, guess I'll start with January 2017, as that's about as far back as I can remember these days anyway...
Turned 53.
Yep. Guess that's about all that happened that month of any interest. And that pretty much only to me and the Missus.
February : I got nothing
March: nothing
April: not too much until around the end of the month. Started having some gut pain that got pretty intense, so I went to the emergency room. They admitted me to the Nazi experimental human testing facility to do some tests, put me on a saline IV and pretty much left me to marinate for 24 hours.
During this 24 hours, they told me:
1. It could be pancreatitis. A potentially fatal little nasty. They'd know more soon.
2. Congratulations! It's NOT pancreatitis! It looks like it may be a blockage TO the pancreas from gall stones. Testing in progress.
3. NOT gall stones. Okay. Possibly a problem with the gall bladder itself. Hey! Here's an idea! Let's gut this bugger and rip that sucker right on outta there! What'd'ya say, huh?!
(Couple of side notes here: during this time, I had not urinated at any time. Actually don't recall if I peed at all the 24 hours earlier either. Not something I generally spend much thought on, personally, and no one asked, so...
Fever spiked.
Started hallucinating.
Pain increased exponentially.
Asked for prune juice.
BEGGED for coffee. (I get EXTREME migraines when the blood levels get to high in my caffeine stream)
but was told NOTHING liquid or solid orally per admitting doctor. (personally, I think he was admitting incompetence....) happened between Thursday evening through Friday. So, due to the increasing level of my discomfiture, and out of their natural concern, (not necessarily for ME, so much as the fact that as fast as I was going downhill, if they didn't do SOMETHING, and SOON, I'd never last long enough to get a bill) they scheduled agall bladder bladder-ectomy for Saturday morning. No big deal; sleep, 4 tiny incisions here, here, here, and.... here, clip this thing here, that one there, quick tug, and.... Take this guy to post-op. NEXT.
Problem solved, right?
WRONG.
By Saturday afternoon, they decided to bring in a lung specialist, and a pee doctor. (Yes, I believe that IS the medical expression used to describe these two types of specialists. Possible not, but at least you get an idea of their specialties this way, so if they have another, more clinical, sounding name, keep in mind: I really don't care.) Apparently I'd developed double pneumonia AND my kidneys had shut down.
Apparently, "someone" should have noted that they'd been pumping gallon after gallon of saline INTO me, and nothing had been coming OUT.
My hands and feet were so swollen with fluid that you could barely see my toes, and my hands looked like Popeye's right after he blows it up through his thumb, and just before he nails Brutus.
I was drowning in my own body. Literally. Couldn't expel liquid, lungs filling...
I spent the next seven days peeing, through the magic of modern diuretics. (Not to be confused with Dianetics. Doubt they'd have ANY affect on my urinatin') and on oxygen, fighting to get (just) well enough to walk out on my own two feet. (so of COURSE you have to leave in wheelchair)
Got home on Saturday, had a follow up with my regular doc on Thursday. When I went to my appointment, after four days at home, gasping like a fish out of water the entire time, I realized I had to go wee-wee. A situation I tended to give a great deal more consideration to these days... I made it to the toi-toi, went wee-wee, and collapsed halfway back to the waiting room. My blood-oxygen saturation was at 70%. It SHOULD NEVER go below 90. Man, was my doc 'pissed'!
She wouldn't let Rose take me to the hospital. She called an ambulance to transport me.
I remember getting to the hospital, placed in a bed in the emergency room, and...
(cut to June)
...waking up some time later.
I'd spent May in a coma. No fucking clue where the last month had gone. Time sure flies when you're not paying attention, huh?
Coming out of the comma was funny, painful sad, happy, and a bunch of other adjectives, but I digress... That by itself will probably be a post on here sometime. If I get around to figuring it all out. Maybe.
Okay.... Where was I? Oh yeah, June.
Nothing.
July through December: I got nothin'.
January 2018: both Bustednuckles and myself had birthdays. Unless his was early February. Which pretty much catches every one up to date on me. (Happy Belittled Birfday, my OLD friend! And no, that ain't a spellchecker issue...)
There are a few other honorable mentions:
I was diagnosed with non Hodgkin's lymphoma some time back. Don't remember when, don't care. By the time this slow acting cancer kills me, I'll probably be already dead at least 3 years from old age.
I broke my back. Not broke-broke, just kinda middlin' broke. Was moving a big billy goat, who was acting kind of gruff, to new pasturage, and he took off down a ridge we were traversing. I held on to the rope lead, rolling down the ridge to give the goat something to keep him amused as he hopped and bounced along beside until I finally brought him to a shuddering halt by the expedient method of wrapping my own body around a small tree.
Guess I showed HIM!
However, when wrapping trees, one should always remember to go WITH the grain. Yours, not the tree's.
I broke one of those spur looking thingies from a vertebrae. I forget which one. They told me, but it didn't mean so much to me as where the spur thingie ended up... Which is under the vertebrae below, compressing and pinching my sciatic nerve.
I don't have medical insurance thanks to one of America's Afro-American presidents (hint: one of the more recent ones...) and am having the devil's own time getting Medicaid due to inept beaurocrats, so have been dealing with both of those issue's physical and emotional bullshit since 2016 or so.
Farm is still here. Pigs, chickens, rabbits, ducks, quail. Still struggling with a decent garden and feed corn field as well as wheat, (nothing happened much on that front last year, as in May, my garden and fields have usually just barely gotten started. Last year I was anaffordably (not a typo) deranged (again, not a typo). But each day I make progress. I KNOW this, because I purchased an electron microscope in order to chart my successes!
For those who care, I apologize for my long silence. I do get down every now and then, and have always had y'all's support to boost me up. I owe you some news once in awhile, good, bad, or indifferent. You have not been, and never while I breathe, will be, unappreciated.
And to all of you who have never really given a shit about me, but have followed my blog anyway:
Phhllllllllllltttt.
So, I'll go over a few salient points in a 'year in review' sorta thing, and maybe go off on a rant or two if one happens by while I'm swiping this tiny little screen.
I still have shoddy connectivity on the phone service, and web is almost non existent. So I don't got no computer, 'cept this phone. Broke screen on it too. So if some of my typing gets a little skewed, it's the cracks running through the text, and in no way literary ineptitude.
Hmm.... Let's see, guess I'll start with January 2017, as that's about as far back as I can remember these days anyway...
Turned 53.
Yep. Guess that's about all that happened that month of any interest. And that pretty much only to me and the Missus.
February : I got nothing
March: nothing
April: not too much until around the end of the month. Started having some gut pain that got pretty intense, so I went to the emergency room. They admitted me to the Nazi experimental human testing facility to do some tests, put me on a saline IV and pretty much left me to marinate for 24 hours.
During this 24 hours, they told me:
1. It could be pancreatitis. A potentially fatal little nasty. They'd know more soon.
2. Congratulations! It's NOT pancreatitis! It looks like it may be a blockage TO the pancreas from gall stones. Testing in progress.
3. NOT gall stones. Okay. Possibly a problem with the gall bladder itself. Hey! Here's an idea! Let's gut this bugger and rip that sucker right on outta there! What'd'ya say, huh?!
(Couple of side notes here: during this time, I had not urinated at any time. Actually don't recall if I peed at all the 24 hours earlier either. Not something I generally spend much thought on, personally, and no one asked, so...
Fever spiked.
Started hallucinating.
Pain increased exponentially.
Asked for prune juice.
BEGGED for coffee. (I get EXTREME migraines when the blood levels get to high in my caffeine stream)
but was told NOTHING liquid or solid orally per admitting doctor. (personally, I think he was admitting incompetence....) happened between Thursday evening through Friday. So, due to the increasing level of my discomfiture, and out of their natural concern, (not necessarily for ME, so much as the fact that as fast as I was going downhill, if they didn't do SOMETHING, and SOON, I'd never last long enough to get a bill) they scheduled agall bladder bladder-ectomy for Saturday morning. No big deal; sleep, 4 tiny incisions here, here, here, and.... here, clip this thing here, that one there, quick tug, and.... Take this guy to post-op. NEXT.
Problem solved, right?
WRONG.
By Saturday afternoon, they decided to bring in a lung specialist, and a pee doctor. (Yes, I believe that IS the medical expression used to describe these two types of specialists. Possible not, but at least you get an idea of their specialties this way, so if they have another, more clinical, sounding name, keep in mind: I really don't care.) Apparently I'd developed double pneumonia AND my kidneys had shut down.
Apparently, "someone" should have noted that they'd been pumping gallon after gallon of saline INTO me, and nothing had been coming OUT.
My hands and feet were so swollen with fluid that you could barely see my toes, and my hands looked like Popeye's right after he blows it up through his thumb, and just before he nails Brutus.
I was drowning in my own body. Literally. Couldn't expel liquid, lungs filling...
I spent the next seven days peeing, through the magic of modern diuretics. (Not to be confused with Dianetics. Doubt they'd have ANY affect on my urinatin') and on oxygen, fighting to get (just) well enough to walk out on my own two feet. (so of COURSE you have to leave in wheelchair)
Got home on Saturday, had a follow up with my regular doc on Thursday. When I went to my appointment, after four days at home, gasping like a fish out of water the entire time, I realized I had to go wee-wee. A situation I tended to give a great deal more consideration to these days... I made it to the toi-toi, went wee-wee, and collapsed halfway back to the waiting room. My blood-oxygen saturation was at 70%. It SHOULD NEVER go below 90. Man, was my doc 'pissed'!
She wouldn't let Rose take me to the hospital. She called an ambulance to transport me.
I remember getting to the hospital, placed in a bed in the emergency room, and...
(cut to June)
...waking up some time later.
I'd spent May in a coma. No fucking clue where the last month had gone. Time sure flies when you're not paying attention, huh?
Coming out of the comma was funny, painful sad, happy, and a bunch of other adjectives, but I digress... That by itself will probably be a post on here sometime. If I get around to figuring it all out. Maybe.
Okay.... Where was I? Oh yeah, June.
Nothing.
July through December: I got nothin'.
January 2018: both Bustednuckles and myself had birthdays. Unless his was early February. Which pretty much catches every one up to date on me. (Happy Belittled Birfday, my OLD friend! And no, that ain't a spellchecker issue...)
There are a few other honorable mentions:
I was diagnosed with non Hodgkin's lymphoma some time back. Don't remember when, don't care. By the time this slow acting cancer kills me, I'll probably be already dead at least 3 years from old age.
I broke my back. Not broke-broke, just kinda middlin' broke. Was moving a big billy goat, who was acting kind of gruff, to new pasturage, and he took off down a ridge we were traversing. I held on to the rope lead, rolling down the ridge to give the goat something to keep him amused as he hopped and bounced along beside until I finally brought him to a shuddering halt by the expedient method of wrapping my own body around a small tree.
Guess I showed HIM!
However, when wrapping trees, one should always remember to go WITH the grain. Yours, not the tree's.
I broke one of those spur looking thingies from a vertebrae. I forget which one. They told me, but it didn't mean so much to me as where the spur thingie ended up... Which is under the vertebrae below, compressing and pinching my sciatic nerve.
I don't have medical insurance thanks to one of America's Afro-American presidents (hint: one of the more recent ones...) and am having the devil's own time getting Medicaid due to inept beaurocrats, so have been dealing with both of those issue's physical and emotional bullshit since 2016 or so.
Farm is still here. Pigs, chickens, rabbits, ducks, quail. Still struggling with a decent garden and feed corn field as well as wheat, (nothing happened much on that front last year, as in May, my garden and fields have usually just barely gotten started. Last year I was anaffordably (not a typo) deranged (again, not a typo). But each day I make progress. I KNOW this, because I purchased an electron microscope in order to chart my successes!
For those who care, I apologize for my long silence. I do get down every now and then, and have always had y'all's support to boost me up. I owe you some news once in awhile, good, bad, or indifferent. You have not been, and never while I breathe, will be, unappreciated.
And to all of you who have never really given a shit about me, but have followed my blog anyway:
Phhllllllllllltttt.
Thursday, February 8, 2018
Free kittens
Have you ever tried to GIVE something away FREE on craigslist?
It amazes me what people think YOU should do to accommodate giving THEM something for nothing.
I have five female cats. I picked up two during an all-you-can-eat-for-a-dollar type giveaway at the local shelter. BOTH were spayed.
One disappeared after quite some time here, which does occasionally happen here in coyote country. Not blaming the coyotes, mind you. Just saying it does happen...
Then a friend of a friend had to give up her two apartment cats, and the friend that was our friend told the friend that was their friend that she knew some cat people that were her friends (confused yet?) and that these friends would take that friend's two cats and raise them as their own. Fwewf! Am I glad I got THAT out of the way!
So then I had 3 cats. 1 spay, 2 litter bugs
BOTH new cats came up pregnant, as not owning any male cats, neuter or otherwise, I couldn't be bothered to spay them. Besides, they were INDOOR cats. Complete with a pet door for my dogs that allowed them access to the great outhouse... er... great outDOORS.
After giving away the kittens, we decided to keep the last female left from each litter. Which makes 5 shredders. (1 spay, 4 puffball producers.)
This quota did not overly concern me, as they were all INDOOR cats, with convenient access to the outside to do their business.
Apparently, I myself, and my cats, have ENTIRELY different ideas as to what that "business" IS...
So anyway, about once every six months or so, I have the opportunity to provide free rodent population control to anyone who wants it, gratis.
I do this via the WWWW (World Wide WONDERFUL Web) through the miracle of CRAIGSLIST!
And have never had long to wait to distribute my generosity due to humanity's insatiable desire for all things FREE.
Yet it simply astounds me to what lengths these people WON'T go to to try to fill this desire.
Things like: actually READ the fucking AD, and try VERY HARD to retain the information to be gleaned there
Then the questions! For instance:
Do you deliver?
(No, this ain't fucking Domino's)
Will you hold it for three weeks until my annoying brat's birthday (or bar mitzvah, or campout/cookout)?
(Certainly! 10 dollars/day "Are you fucking kidding me? fee"!)
Will you meet me someplace? (Absolutely! Did you notice the MapQuest insert in the ad? Yes? Good! THAT'S the place.)
Are they eating dry food? (No, unfortunately, although I posted IN THE AD they were weaned, they still need to grind hard food in their MOUTH, with SPIT in order to properly process their bits of kibble.)
Are they fixed? (No. All the indications to date show they were born this way. And if it ain't broke, neither I nor Bustednuckles can fix it)
Are they male, or female?
(Yes.)
How many males/females do you have?
(Like the photo in the ad shows: Six)
Which ones are male/female in the pic?
(All of them)
Do you have any male kittens left?
(I don't know. I feel it demeans our kitten/owner gestalt, and embarasses the kitten, to be thrust on its back, tail pulled to the side, and have their tiny little genitals googled at.
Not to mention, if this is a mis-gendered animal stuck in the wrong birth gender, I don't feel it's my place to judge. God made (insert preferred genital-related pronoun here in accordance to your 'special feelings') the way it is. Let God sort it out.)
Are they litter trained?
(I THINK so. I know I posted IN THE AD they are, but my dogs think cat shit is actually a doggie cookie, and may be covering for them in order to maintain a constant, fresh supply.)
So do these people REALLY want a cat? Or are they just poor, pathetic, little losers, that no normal person would waste time on, looking to connect with some one or some thing in order to give meaning to their pitiable little lives? Be it either a cute, cuddly, adorable, soft little kitten, or the poor guy FORCED to interact with them through his misfortunate choice to post an ad on Craigslist: FREE KITTENS
It amazes me what people think YOU should do to accommodate giving THEM something for nothing.
I have five female cats. I picked up two during an all-you-can-eat-for-a-dollar type giveaway at the local shelter. BOTH were spayed.
One disappeared after quite some time here, which does occasionally happen here in coyote country. Not blaming the coyotes, mind you. Just saying it does happen...
Then a friend of a friend had to give up her two apartment cats, and the friend that was our friend told the friend that was their friend that she knew some cat people that were her friends (confused yet?) and that these friends would take that friend's two cats and raise them as their own. Fwewf! Am I glad I got THAT out of the way!
So then I had 3 cats. 1 spay, 2 litter bugs
BOTH new cats came up pregnant, as not owning any male cats, neuter or otherwise, I couldn't be bothered to spay them. Besides, they were INDOOR cats. Complete with a pet door for my dogs that allowed them access to the great outhouse... er... great outDOORS.
After giving away the kittens, we decided to keep the last female left from each litter. Which makes 5 shredders. (1 spay, 4 puffball producers.)
This quota did not overly concern me, as they were all INDOOR cats, with convenient access to the outside to do their business.
Apparently, I myself, and my cats, have ENTIRELY different ideas as to what that "business" IS...
So anyway, about once every six months or so, I have the opportunity to provide free rodent population control to anyone who wants it, gratis.
I do this via the WWWW (World Wide WONDERFUL Web) through the miracle of CRAIGSLIST!
And have never had long to wait to distribute my generosity due to humanity's insatiable desire for all things FREE.
Yet it simply astounds me to what lengths these people WON'T go to to try to fill this desire.
Things like: actually READ the fucking AD, and try VERY HARD to retain the information to be gleaned there
Then the questions! For instance:
Do you deliver?
(No, this ain't fucking Domino's)
Will you hold it for three weeks until my annoying brat's birthday (or bar mitzvah, or campout/cookout)?
(Certainly! 10 dollars/day "Are you fucking kidding me? fee"!)
Will you meet me someplace? (Absolutely! Did you notice the MapQuest insert in the ad? Yes? Good! THAT'S the place.)
Are they eating dry food? (No, unfortunately, although I posted IN THE AD they were weaned, they still need to grind hard food in their MOUTH, with SPIT in order to properly process their bits of kibble.)
Are they fixed? (No. All the indications to date show they were born this way. And if it ain't broke, neither I nor Bustednuckles can fix it)
Are they male, or female?
(Yes.)
How many males/females do you have?
(Like the photo in the ad shows: Six)
Which ones are male/female in the pic?
(All of them)
Do you have any male kittens left?
(I don't know. I feel it demeans our kitten/owner gestalt, and embarasses the kitten, to be thrust on its back, tail pulled to the side, and have their tiny little genitals googled at.
Not to mention, if this is a mis-gendered animal stuck in the wrong birth gender, I don't feel it's my place to judge. God made (insert preferred genital-related pronoun here in accordance to your 'special feelings') the way it is. Let God sort it out.)
Are they litter trained?
(I THINK so. I know I posted IN THE AD they are, but my dogs think cat shit is actually a doggie cookie, and may be covering for them in order to maintain a constant, fresh supply.)
So do these people REALLY want a cat? Or are they just poor, pathetic, little losers, that no normal person would waste time on, looking to connect with some one or some thing in order to give meaning to their pitiable little lives? Be it either a cute, cuddly, adorable, soft little kitten, or the poor guy FORCED to interact with them through his misfortunate choice to post an ad on Craigslist: FREE KITTENS
Monday, October 17, 2016
And in your local news...
A semi truck hauling frozen chicken caught fire this morning on Hwy 35 in Oklahoma City.
That's pretty much the entire story. No injuries, no one died, just a solitary truck whose brakes, and subsequently the entire semi, caught fire on the side of the highway.
The local news stations were jumping through hoops all day in order to keep us 'up to date' on the latest breaking news...
I was wondering why they didn't just crash a watermelon truck into it and put up a sign "Soul Food; Cooked on site". Whole damn thing woulda been cleaned up in no time up in OKC.
That's pretty much the entire story. No injuries, no one died, just a solitary truck whose brakes, and subsequently the entire semi, caught fire on the side of the highway.
The local news stations were jumping through hoops all day in order to keep us 'up to date' on the latest breaking news...
I was wondering why they didn't just crash a watermelon truck into it and put up a sign "Soul Food; Cooked on site". Whole damn thing woulda been cleaned up in no time up in OKC.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
My vaca sucked. there was precip in Cali, and Micky D's ran out of hafcaf latte mocha frappes
Corruption at every level of government. Children placed in prison style institutions of "learning" where the only thing they learn is to sit down, shut up, and do as they're told by all authority figures who control them.
We have conflict over free enterprise, causing the many to bend over forward to conform to the wants of the few. Or even being forced, through fear of punishment, to violate their own moral or religious beliefs to cater to the laughable new 'rights' of the one.
Correcting or own children with a slap to the well designed for spanking derriere constitutes child abuse. Then we wonder what has happened to the current generation of privileged, self-absorbed, belligerent thugs. Those that do manage to survive the formative years of childhood, and make it to a semblance of adulthood go to the new safe-zone colleges of today's higher education. Where they learn that it is okay for a man to be a woman, sexual orientation is a matter for public concern, the Constitution is ignored, and an individual has the right to sex, libations, and protection from anyone who's opinion doesn't conform to their own. Because, well, THEIR opinion is important, and yours makes them uncomfortable.
All this should really come as no surprise to anyone who was spanked as a child, was taught to respect women, trust men, stand by what they say, have calluses on their hands, and if not a religious, at least a moral, upbringing.
No one actually bothers to read the Constitution any more. The government tells them what their rights are and the rest of the sheep seem content with the Koolade.
I was taught the Constitution in school. But then I'm old now. Yet still remember my literal awe of this great document instilled in me as I read every word of what makes our country great
The language used, perfectly adequate to the time it was written, almost a foreign tongue to their dumb - downed descendents.
I seldom watch the puff piece entertainment shows that pass as news these days. I don't really care that Joe Shmoe's left nut got caught in his zipper at the award dinner for deviant transvestites. Or that it is now somehow important that men have their eyebrows 'manscaped'.
I could weep for the loss of the English language, if I wasn't so busy trying to keep up understanding news anchors telling me they'll be back in a mo-mo, and when they do return, tell us all the important and life affecting details of their vacay. How little Bobby learned not to pee in the pool finally. Still working on teaching him its not nice to soak kittens in gas and light them on fire though. But we're working on it while trying not to hurt his self-image.
And the sheep wonder what happened to their once - green pasture formerly known as These United States
We have conflict over free enterprise, causing the many to bend over forward to conform to the wants of the few. Or even being forced, through fear of punishment, to violate their own moral or religious beliefs to cater to the laughable new 'rights' of the one.
Correcting or own children with a slap to the well designed for spanking derriere constitutes child abuse. Then we wonder what has happened to the current generation of privileged, self-absorbed, belligerent thugs. Those that do manage to survive the formative years of childhood, and make it to a semblance of adulthood go to the new safe-zone colleges of today's higher education. Where they learn that it is okay for a man to be a woman, sexual orientation is a matter for public concern, the Constitution is ignored, and an individual has the right to sex, libations, and protection from anyone who's opinion doesn't conform to their own. Because, well, THEIR opinion is important, and yours makes them uncomfortable.
All this should really come as no surprise to anyone who was spanked as a child, was taught to respect women, trust men, stand by what they say, have calluses on their hands, and if not a religious, at least a moral, upbringing.
No one actually bothers to read the Constitution any more. The government tells them what their rights are and the rest of the sheep seem content with the Koolade.
I was taught the Constitution in school. But then I'm old now. Yet still remember my literal awe of this great document instilled in me as I read every word of what makes our country great
The language used, perfectly adequate to the time it was written, almost a foreign tongue to their dumb - downed descendents.
I seldom watch the puff piece entertainment shows that pass as news these days. I don't really care that Joe Shmoe's left nut got caught in his zipper at the award dinner for deviant transvestites. Or that it is now somehow important that men have their eyebrows 'manscaped'.
I could weep for the loss of the English language, if I wasn't so busy trying to keep up understanding news anchors telling me they'll be back in a mo-mo, and when they do return, tell us all the important and life affecting details of their vacay. How little Bobby learned not to pee in the pool finally. Still working on teaching him its not nice to soak kittens in gas and light them on fire though. But we're working on it while trying not to hurt his self-image.
And the sheep wonder what happened to their once - green pasture formerly known as These United States
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
is it just me? or... (UPDATE at the end)
Is anyone else sick and tired of weather fear porn?
It's just one more case of fear mongering in order to control the actions of the sheeple. Animals sense bad weather, earthquakes, pretty much any natural threat. Sheeple, not so much.
But we have the advantage over the dumb beasts of the field. We have Weathermen!
Oh, to be a weatherman! Get up, put on a tie, or more currently a dress with a good view of cleavage, and tell all the little people "There's a 50 percent chance of rain today".
Think about this: With all the benefits of modern technology and years of advanced education, these scions of science tell us that basically 'it will rain, or it won't'. Now pay me...
All the while debasing our already bastardized grammar further with their inability to use big-boy words like 'precipitation'! It's 'precip' this, and 'precip' that.
Look, really, if you can't say the big-boy words, or the sheeple are too dumb downed to understand them, why not use simple terms? Like, oh I don't know, RAIN? Seems good to me. We not only learn liquid is falling out of the sky, but we learn what physical aspects are associated with it. It's wet, not frozen, and is moving in a downward direction.
Yesterday, here in Oklahoma, we were warned, to the point of issuing severe weather advisories, that we should prepare for Tennis Ball Sized Hail, Tornadoes, 75 Mile per hour straight line winds, and the distinct possibility of, of my dear Lord, PRECIP!
That was last night. This morning at 4, it was golf ball sized hail, POSSIBILITY of MAYBE an F2 tornado or two, and wind gusts to 40 MPH.
It's now about 6 AM, and no mention of hail, wins might get 25 MPH, and they're determinedly shying away from the dreaded 'T-word'.
Weather porn. Stock up, this is TEOTWAWKI, go beat up an old lady at the store over that last jug of water, final pack of D batteries, and sole remaining pack of Slim Jims.
Oh wait... What's that?... Well folks, weather is tricky. Just be glad it wasn't the catastrophe it was SUPPOSED to be...
And I was looking forward today to grabbing a six pack, turning on my NOAA radio, and enjoying the show in a lawn chair while playing a few hands of Texas Holdem with Gamblin' James. You can usually get a seat there for around 15 bucks...
UPDATE: Got MAYBE a half hour of light rain. Even heard thunder once...Fucking overpaid monkeys...)
It's just one more case of fear mongering in order to control the actions of the sheeple. Animals sense bad weather, earthquakes, pretty much any natural threat. Sheeple, not so much.
But we have the advantage over the dumb beasts of the field. We have Weathermen!
Oh, to be a weatherman! Get up, put on a tie, or more currently a dress with a good view of cleavage, and tell all the little people "There's a 50 percent chance of rain today".
Think about this: With all the benefits of modern technology and years of advanced education, these scions of science tell us that basically 'it will rain, or it won't'. Now pay me...
All the while debasing our already bastardized grammar further with their inability to use big-boy words like 'precipitation'! It's 'precip' this, and 'precip' that.
Look, really, if you can't say the big-boy words, or the sheeple are too dumb downed to understand them, why not use simple terms? Like, oh I don't know, RAIN? Seems good to me. We not only learn liquid is falling out of the sky, but we learn what physical aspects are associated with it. It's wet, not frozen, and is moving in a downward direction.
Yesterday, here in Oklahoma, we were warned, to the point of issuing severe weather advisories, that we should prepare for Tennis Ball Sized Hail, Tornadoes, 75 Mile per hour straight line winds, and the distinct possibility of, of my dear Lord, PRECIP!
That was last night. This morning at 4, it was golf ball sized hail, POSSIBILITY of MAYBE an F2 tornado or two, and wind gusts to 40 MPH.
It's now about 6 AM, and no mention of hail, wins might get 25 MPH, and they're determinedly shying away from the dreaded 'T-word'.
Weather porn. Stock up, this is TEOTWAWKI, go beat up an old lady at the store over that last jug of water, final pack of D batteries, and sole remaining pack of Slim Jims.
Oh wait... What's that?... Well folks, weather is tricky. Just be glad it wasn't the catastrophe it was SUPPOSED to be...
And I was looking forward today to grabbing a six pack, turning on my NOAA radio, and enjoying the show in a lawn chair while playing a few hands of Texas Holdem with Gamblin' James. You can usually get a seat there for around 15 bucks...
UPDATE: Got MAYBE a half hour of light rain. Even heard thunder once...Fucking overpaid monkeys...)
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
It's Me Again, Margaret*
I'm trying. Even weekly is gonna be tough with all the springtime projects commencing, and the day to day crap we all deal with as life happens.
This last week has been especially trying, but has had its blessings, too.
Attempting to get a Dent corn and wheat field in, I paid my brother 60.00 bucks to disk a section of land for me here at Turn Here Rose, and am working on tilling it over with my medium sized rototiller. With my screwed up shoulder, it's a lot harder than I'd like, and is taking me longer than I planned. By the end of the day, I'm done in, and that's beside the fact I can only work for maybe a half hour before I have to break until the pain eases off. Rose has been cuttng me some slack by taking on a lot of the household chores; cooking, dishes, laundry. Since she still puts in a 40+ hour work week, I REALLY appreciate her support!
Lost my wallet the day after my monthly check came in. I'm fairly sure I left it on the checkout counter at Lowes when buying a hot water heater. I didn't realize it until the following day. Of course I called the store as soon as I realized, and just as assuredly, no one had turned it in. It may have something to do with the 650.00 or so that was in it, which included my mortgage payment.
For the first time since moving here, I have running hot water, and am back behind the 8 ball with having to make up for my carelessness. Guess I was too preoccupied with the thought of a hot shower....
I always leave enough on my card to handle my more regular bills that are easier to pay online, and Rose holds onto that in case she needs to get gas, milk, whatever, and I discovered my missing wallet when she told me she couldn't find the credit card! Wasn't much on that, and what there was isn't really an issue, as she had already paid all the regular bills, but as its a government issue card, I get the hassle of canceling it and having a new one issued
I bought some chicks, ducks, and geese earlier this year, and wouldn't ya know it, the damn things are growing so fast the cage they are in is getting a little crowded, and a new coop is quickly becoming more than a luxury.
But like I said, trials mixed with blessings. My own 2001 Saturn has an ignition problem, so that best friend I told you about in an earlier post first lent me his 1997 Saturn, then offered to sell it to me cheap, on payments. He went on a week's trip to visit his kids in Texas, and left his Kia with me rather than in the crime ridden city he lives in, and Rose got to use it for her daily commute. Two days before he was due back, the '94 Saturn shift train locked up on me. When he came back, after two days of me fucking with it, he shows up, jacks up the driver side front tire, and when it then miraculously works, told me it was stuck in two gears, and that that happens sometimes with this car... But Rose was able to use the Kia during those two days, so it could have been much worse for us
Then he said Rose could continue using his Kia while I get my ignition problem figured out, so that it wouldn't happen to her in that Saturn.
And then that he was moving to Texas in May. Oh well, I'll miss him more than I can say, but it's only a three hour drive due South, and we WILL get together a couple times a year.
So that's it. I'm here, I'm tired, I'm sore, I'm broke, and my rainbow seems more like the colorful sheen on a bubble that could pop anytime than a glorious promise that golden unicorns are gonna start flying out of my ass; but there it is.
They say what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. But what if you were strong enough BEFORE?
Take care my friends, and keep a loaded gun handy!
XENO
This last week has been especially trying, but has had its blessings, too.
Attempting to get a Dent corn and wheat field in, I paid my brother 60.00 bucks to disk a section of land for me here at Turn Here Rose, and am working on tilling it over with my medium sized rototiller. With my screwed up shoulder, it's a lot harder than I'd like, and is taking me longer than I planned. By the end of the day, I'm done in, and that's beside the fact I can only work for maybe a half hour before I have to break until the pain eases off. Rose has been cuttng me some slack by taking on a lot of the household chores; cooking, dishes, laundry. Since she still puts in a 40+ hour work week, I REALLY appreciate her support!
Lost my wallet the day after my monthly check came in. I'm fairly sure I left it on the checkout counter at Lowes when buying a hot water heater. I didn't realize it until the following day. Of course I called the store as soon as I realized, and just as assuredly, no one had turned it in. It may have something to do with the 650.00 or so that was in it, which included my mortgage payment.
For the first time since moving here, I have running hot water, and am back behind the 8 ball with having to make up for my carelessness. Guess I was too preoccupied with the thought of a hot shower....
I always leave enough on my card to handle my more regular bills that are easier to pay online, and Rose holds onto that in case she needs to get gas, milk, whatever, and I discovered my missing wallet when she told me she couldn't find the credit card! Wasn't much on that, and what there was isn't really an issue, as she had already paid all the regular bills, but as its a government issue card, I get the hassle of canceling it and having a new one issued
I bought some chicks, ducks, and geese earlier this year, and wouldn't ya know it, the damn things are growing so fast the cage they are in is getting a little crowded, and a new coop is quickly becoming more than a luxury.
But like I said, trials mixed with blessings. My own 2001 Saturn has an ignition problem, so that best friend I told you about in an earlier post first lent me his 1997 Saturn, then offered to sell it to me cheap, on payments. He went on a week's trip to visit his kids in Texas, and left his Kia with me rather than in the crime ridden city he lives in, and Rose got to use it for her daily commute. Two days before he was due back, the '94 Saturn shift train locked up on me. When he came back, after two days of me fucking with it, he shows up, jacks up the driver side front tire, and when it then miraculously works, told me it was stuck in two gears, and that that happens sometimes with this car... But Rose was able to use the Kia during those two days, so it could have been much worse for us
Then he said Rose could continue using his Kia while I get my ignition problem figured out, so that it wouldn't happen to her in that Saturn.
And then that he was moving to Texas in May. Oh well, I'll miss him more than I can say, but it's only a three hour drive due South, and we WILL get together a couple times a year.
So that's it. I'm here, I'm tired, I'm sore, I'm broke, and my rainbow seems more like the colorful sheen on a bubble that could pop anytime than a glorious promise that golden unicorns are gonna start flying out of my ass; but there it is.
They say what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. But what if you were strong enough BEFORE?
Take care my friends, and keep a loaded gun handy!
XENO
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Grog
I don't know if it's that weird little hairy guy from the comic strip BC, or someone VERY fond of a fairly decent shipboard drink, but this one goes out to 'Grog'!
Yes, I'm still alive, and yes, I want to keep this damn blog going.
So, here's Turn Here Rose: 8 chickens, 3 ducks, 3 geese. Still have my pot bellied boar, but the sow cut herself shortly after her last birthing, and by the time I realized it, (it was under her front leg, and not noticeable whether she was standing or nursing) she had gone septic and I lost her. I was able to continue bottle feeding the piglets, and kept two females after selling the other 8.
I'm currently raising channel catfish, but it's still too early to tell if that will work out.
The best friend I have EVER had in my life, who I have known since we were in diapers, and lost touch with when I joined the Navy and he moved away, has once again become a part of my life. I recently learned he also lives in Oklahoma after a surprisingly parallel life, and we have since reconnected. It seems as no time has passed in our friendship since we were sixteen. It's good to have a friend again that I've missed so much.
Politically, I'm for Trump, and if either of those asswipes running on the Democrat ticket get in, I will finally give up on this once great country, put out a sign that I'm declaring myself my own country, and load up for the jackboots. I don't choose to live under the rule of a deluded egomaniac whose only goal is to increase her 'prestige' as our queen, nor under the gentle socialist designs of a Hitler in the offing.
I finally saved enough for a decent cultivator, have my truck garden in, have an herb garden ready to plant, and am breaking ground for my Dent corn field. Hopefully I'll get a field cut for wheat also this year.
And, on an ending note, I am going to do my best to update weekly. And all the times I think to myself "I should blog about that", I'll get off my always wore out ass and actually DO it.
Miss all of you, and I'll try to wake up here.
XENOLITH
Yes, I'm still alive, and yes, I want to keep this damn blog going.
So, here's Turn Here Rose: 8 chickens, 3 ducks, 3 geese. Still have my pot bellied boar, but the sow cut herself shortly after her last birthing, and by the time I realized it, (it was under her front leg, and not noticeable whether she was standing or nursing) she had gone septic and I lost her. I was able to continue bottle feeding the piglets, and kept two females after selling the other 8.
I'm currently raising channel catfish, but it's still too early to tell if that will work out.
The best friend I have EVER had in my life, who I have known since we were in diapers, and lost touch with when I joined the Navy and he moved away, has once again become a part of my life. I recently learned he also lives in Oklahoma after a surprisingly parallel life, and we have since reconnected. It seems as no time has passed in our friendship since we were sixteen. It's good to have a friend again that I've missed so much.
Politically, I'm for Trump, and if either of those asswipes running on the Democrat ticket get in, I will finally give up on this once great country, put out a sign that I'm declaring myself my own country, and load up for the jackboots. I don't choose to live under the rule of a deluded egomaniac whose only goal is to increase her 'prestige' as our queen, nor under the gentle socialist designs of a Hitler in the offing.
I finally saved enough for a decent cultivator, have my truck garden in, have an herb garden ready to plant, and am breaking ground for my Dent corn field. Hopefully I'll get a field cut for wheat also this year.
And, on an ending note, I am going to do my best to update weekly. And all the times I think to myself "I should blog about that", I'll get off my always wore out ass and actually DO it.
Miss all of you, and I'll try to wake up here.
XENOLITH
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Harvey County Oregon
WTF is going on here?
I'm out of the loop here with shitty Internet.
Any off ya all can fill me in?
.
I'm out of the loop here with shitty Internet.
Any off ya all can fill me in?
.
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