He's Alive

The ending still sends chills up my spine. (I just realized the irony of that statement).

Things are great. Until they're not.

Bob was feeling great yesterday. Wanted visitors.

Then when my family was visiting along with two of my great nieces who adore their uncle Bobby he dozed for just a second and then tried to bolt from the bed, still attached to the IV and the leg pumper things. I thought he was having a bad Vietnam nightmare.

I flew around the bed yelling at him to stop, I'm just imagining those screws in his spine are getting stripped at this point. My nephew is trying to grab him from the back, I'm attempting to tackle him like he's Andrew Luck and then Mount St. Helen erupted all over me, him and the bed. Panic was definitely in the room, I yelled at my niece to get a nurse, the walker was against the wall so my nephew and I are basically holding him up while he keeps saying he has to get to the bathroom. I was trying to get him to realize the damage was already done.

The nurses were finally able to get him unhooked and to the bathroom where he continued to get sick, which is just horrible given that he shouldn't be twisting his back at all.

The rest of the night was rough, had to take him off all pain meds. Has an intestinal obstruction. This morning they finally got approval to give him something which has only knocked off the edge slightly.

Said this was worse than Vietnam, but I suppose it's pretty close to the guys who were tortured in prison camp.

Up until Friday, he thought he was a man of steel. I think his girls thought he was too. Pain is the great equalizer. I'm sure the jumping up from bed wasn't on the doctors orders.

It's 6:20 a.m. now, and he's finally resting.

Thanks for the prayers.

Go Rest High on That Mountain

It's two o'clock in the morning here in room 2537. Feeding Bob ice chips. The damned alarm keeps going off that monitors the heart rate and oxygen level because it's not tight enough. Nurse is changing it now.

About 45 minutes ago my cousin's long battle was finally over. My brothers did such a wonderful job taking care of him. I had always assumed I would be there to help them in his finally hours, but God didn't really consult me on this one.

I hurt so badly for his family, especially his older brother who is still reeling from the shock of his beautiful bride of 30 years getting her horrible diagnosis last week, they had plans to come up and stay for the week and couldn't

But I can tell you this, I don't know of anyone else that is as blessed as I am to have such a magnificent, caring, loving family that will not hesitate to care for someone in the darkest days, doing the worst parts of a nurse's jobs only because of love. I know when dad was in his last days, I was amazed at the strength you can find and the things you can do because you know you have to.

I'm filled tonight with thankfulness that Bobby is okay, that I have such wonderful family, that my brothers were able to help Bill during his final hours and my nieces were there to assist. And such sadness of a life gone too soon ravaged by the bastard who's name is cancer and that his brother now has to be strong for his wife while she begins her own battle.

I would post the video, but Steve Jobs hated Bloggers so I can't do it on here. Here are the lyrics. So appropriate for tonight.

 

I know your life On earth was troubled And only you could know the pain You weren't afraid to face the devil You were no stranger to the rain

Go rest high on that mountain ‘Cause, Son, your work on earth is done Go to Heaven a shoutin' Love for the Father and the Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us And gathered round your grave to grieve Wish I could see the angels’ faces When they hear your sweet voice sing

Go rest high on that mountain ‘Cause, Son, your work on earth is done Go to Heaven a shoutin' Love for the Father and the Son

Wanna Know What's Going On?

Bob's surgery tomorrow. Cousin moved in with my brothers back in November. Dying from his second bout of esophageal cancer. In the last stages now which means every hour's a challenge and requires round the clock care. Time is very short now. His older brother found out late last week that his precious, fit, healthy wife has cancer of the lining of the left lung. Chemo is starting soon, which means he won't be able to come up next week like he planned to visit with his brother one last time. I supposed God sometimes forces you in to setting horribly difficult priorities. Brother's hopefully soon to be ex-wife thinks she's entitled to his settlement while she screws around with her former boss. For some people greed and lust far outweigh being a decent human being. Of course she never used to care about reading his blog or mine until she starting sleeping with her boss so now I see her IP address show up on visits to this blog. Hope she comes by and gets her wish about reading about herself. Remember Carly Simon's You're So Vain? You probably think this post is about you. She's too stupid to realize her IP address gives her away. If ya got any prayers on your dot in the map our family sure could use one or two about now.

Aren't you regretting reading that horrible runon paragraph now?

Sorry, but it had to come out somehow. Now you know why I've been so silent these last few weeks.

When Will I Long For Snow

We made the decision 8 days ago.

We've been talking about it for years. It only makes sense, really. We have a beautiful place in Fort Myers. No, it's not on the beach. Four miles from the Gulf. And every winter, we say, "Someday" with a dreamer's whisper.

Someday, we won't rent it out to Snowbirds and hope they don't use an ink pen near the beige leather sofa.

Someday, we'll escape this God forsaken land of Indiana winters and motor our way south just after Christmas.

Someday, we'll head back north just at the time of year where Indiana becomes a beautiful blooming, sweet smelling, land that smells of ripe tomatoes, sweet corn in the field and where the golden finches sheds their drab colors of winter for that bright sunny coat of feathers.

Someday, we can enjoy the place that feels a little like home for only a week or two each year and some other couple settles in for a couple of months while we slip on the ice and curse the dreary February days.

The decision was made last week when I was driving into work thinking about Bob.

Six years ago we were closing on this new coach home. I was just recovering from double whammy health issues and starting with a new client on a long term project. Bob was traveling down to Fort Myers getting the place in shape, buying decor. Yeah, I can trust him with that, we actually nearly always agree in decorating. I think he has a bit of Queer Eye in him.

The builder had not thoroughly cleaned the tile floor of the grout. We had the furniture delivered the day after closing so we didn't have time for them to come back in with their industrialize-size cleaner. Bob scrubbed the tile floors for four days. Yeah, he also cleans.

When he got home he began complaining about his ankle. Months went by and he sees a few docs. They think he hurt his Achilles' tendon. More months, still issues. More months still issues. About three years ago he had me look at his right calf. I had not realized that his right calf had grossly deteriorated. He went back to the docs, they did an MRI of his spine, the neurologist thought his calf muscle had been destroyed by the injury cutting off the blood supply. We didn't ask for a copy of the MRI. Big mistake.

One quack said he needed to cut the muscle in half and reattach it. I'm not sure what that would have accomplished other than maybe the doc wanted to buy a new boat. Thankfully Bob didn't take his advice.

About 10 months ago Bob realized it wasn't just his calf that had deteriorated but also he could now be called a half assed man and he couldn't take offense. Obviously THIS wasn't the result of an ankle injury.

Back to the docs, another MRI. This time we got copies of all the records. The MRI indicated something about a spinal tumor not have grown much from the MRI from three years ago.

Yep, he had a tumor on his spine found in an MRI three years ago and we were never told. Does that happen nowadays? I cannot for the life of me understand why the neurologist didn't think it was important enough to tell us. Sure it's benign, but it's in his spine and his leg is deteriorating.

She did an EMG on the muscles in his legs and said they were very sick. At one point she said dead. Not something you want to hear. Her best guess was that maybe a nerve in the L5 area (low back) was being pinched from a small extrusion in a disk. She sent him on to a spinal surgeon to get his opinion. When Bob mentioned the neurologist the spine guy noticeably kept his opinion of her not looking into the tumor three years ago to himself.

The tumor appears to be about the size of the end of your little finger, but it appears to be blocking most of the spinal canal. And it's unlikely he will get any of the damaged muscles back. They have been starved for too long.

They have to cut out his L1 and L2, remove the tumor and screw the bones back together. The hospital stay is three to four days, so this isn't a minor surgery. In all this time, Bob has never had any pain,just a slowly progressing limp which is starting to affect his ability to stay upright.

We'd like to say that we realize that life is too short, but in truth, we never realize it. It has always been about "someday". I realized the other morning that its highly likely in a couple years we will need to move from our two story home here and downsize to a ranch. And we may need to decide whether we need to keep our beloved place in Fort Myers that we don't get to enjoy.

So it's time. It's just been hard to walk away from a steady income from clients, to say either I work from home or I only work a few months a year. But realistically we need to call it now or never get to enjoy what we have while we are still healthy and able.

Surgery is scheduled a week from Friday.

I Got Nothin

Standing Alone

Lately it seems that I am the only one to be speaking the obvious at my most recent client. I'm again at an organization that is actually treating me like I'm an employee rather than a temp. There are benefits to that as well as some downside.

I don't believe in blowing smoke. If an executive asks my opinion, I give it. More often than not I have found that I am the only one in the room stating the obvious. The rest waits until they see which way the wind blows and then moves in that direction. I'll admit it's an uncomfortable position, but it is not one that I will abandon.

Since I've been with this client for close to a year, you would think by now they would have accepted that I am not a Yes Man. I find it interesting that the executire that made the decision to hire me on is the one most likely to challenge my position yet also the one most likely to absolutely agree with my assessment. It's as if he is challenging his own thoughts.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

For some inexplicable reason tonight I suddenly recalled one of the first times I remember being the only one in the room taking a position where the leader wanted one outcome and everyone just went along.

When I was 13 or so, one of the more popular girls decided she would invite several of us to her church. For the life of me I cannot remember who she was nor any of the other girls that were there. It seems that there were about seven of us.

After church they had some youth meeting in the basement where some youth leader was giving us all a lecture. I recall the guy was giving lectures on the evils of smoking. From the time I was around four and my Aunt Rita had decided to let me have a puff of her cigarette, I have never touched one again. And to this day, that is the only one I ever touched. If you want to teach your kids never to smoke, let them have a puff when they are 4 or 5 and I guarantee you they will never touch one again.

This church leader then wanted all of the girls in the room to pledge they would never touch a cigarette. I distinctly remember I was sitting among the "cool kids", those girls that barely spoke to me at all and the same girls that were well known for finding places to smoke at school.

I suppose the church youth leader thought exerting some peer pressure would get the thirty young girls in front of him to never smoke again.

I wasn't buying it.

I knew that I had no desire to ever smoke, I knew the cool girls next to me would be at it again as soon as they had another chance to prove they were cool and I knew what he was asking everyone in the room to pledge was nothing but a bunch of bull.

He asked all the girls in the room to raise their hands to pledge they would never smoke a cigarette.

Every hand in the room went up, except for one.

I felt awkward, but I also felt a mixture of defiance and honesty and power. With that one act of leaving my hand down when everyone around me was lying, I felt like I was making a decision about my life.

Not about smoking. I was fairly certain I would never touch a cigarette, they seemed as disgusting to me then as they do now.

I felt like I was making a decision that I would not follow the crowd. Whether it be jumping over the cliff or smoking because it was cool or raising your hand to lie in a church.

Not everyone appreciates it when you are the only one in the room saying the Emperor has no clothes.

That's okay with me. I will not be a Yes Man.

I Believe

That is the name of a Brooks and Dunn song that took me back 45 years to a man that significantly impacted my life. Before I started this blog thing, I hijacked my sister's blog and wrote the post below.

I Believe

It’s going to be rainy tomorrow. The date is in some unknown time in the early sixties. How did I know it would be rainy? Because the weather dog told me. The weather dog sat on the window sill in Ode and Katherine’s house and changed colors according to the weather. I remember looking at the weather dog one day when one of his “weather specks” came off in my hand. I carried it back to my house so I would always know what the weather would be. Katherine died when I was very young, but I still remember one thing about her. When I would go across the road to visit them, she would say, “Olen, go get her a candy bar.” I can still hear that voice to this day. They kept Mr. Goodbars in their refrigerator.

Ode was the “old man” across the street. I loved him. By the time I arrived on this earth both sets of my grandparents had way too many grandkids to care much about me. To be honest, I probably wasn’t the easiest little girl either. I remember being much too whiny and sensitive. And my grandparents lived over an hour away. Ode lived just across the road. I don’t remember Katherine dying, but I know she did and Ode married Romanza.

Also on the window sill was a small white church. I remember also loving that small church. I don’t really know why, except that it embodied everything Ode was. He was a good Christian man, the old fashion kind. As a very small child I loved going over to their house. As I remember it, there were only four or five rooms in the house. One of the bedrooms was actually a hallway into their kitchen.

What I remember most is that I would sit for what would seem like hours with Ode on the couch. He had old spiral hymn books and he would teach me the songs. Old-fashioned hymns that I had never heard in the Catholic church. “I’ve got a mansion, just over the hilltop, in that bright land where we never grow old. And someday yonder, we will never more wander. But walk on streets that are purest gold.” I loved Ode and I loved those old songs books.

Most of the songs that we sang together were from those old songs books. “As I was sinking deep in sin, far from the peaceful shore. Very deeply stained within. Sinking to rise no more. But the Master of the Sea heard my despairing cry. From the waters lifted me, now safe am I. Love lifted me. Love lifted me, when nothing else would do, Love lifted Me.”

I can still hear Ode’s creaky voice singing those last few high versus. He taught me those and the old time song, “Oh do you remember a long time ago, two poor little babes whose names I don’t know. Were stolen away on a bright sunny day, and lost in the woods, I’ve heard people say.”

I don’t know why or how, but there was an evening at EUB church where Ode was a member when he and I got up to sing in front of everyone. I couldn’t have been six at the oldest. I still remember the two of us getting up and singing in front of that church. I was a little nervous, but I also felt safe with Ode leading the way. I was proud he wanted to have me sing with him.

In hindsight, I can just imagine what the people in EUB church thought. I mean, really how cute to have an old man and a six-year-old singing old songs that he taught her? I would give anything for video cameras back then so I could have that memory forever. I suppose the memory I have inside my heart is better than any video could have been anyway.

When I was a teenager, they took Ode away to a nursing home. I probably hadn’t visited for years and I felt bad. My mother would go to see him and tell me how “out of his head” he was. I could not force myself to go (today, I would know better). I believe he was in the nursing home for a few years and I never visited him, I justified it by saying he wouldn’t want me to see him like that. I believe he died when I was 17 or 18. I was all full of myself and thought that in my mind he had already been gone for years, so I also didn’t attend the service either. I'm not proud of that. He and Romanza really didn’t have a lot. They had lived a simple life in that tiny house. But when he died, it seemed that relatives came out of the woodwork wanting the simple things they had in the house. I remember feeling so upset that these people who hadn’t bothered with either of them for so long were now raiding their house while Romanza was still alive, and just grabbing what little they had.

I think about those song books and the white church and weather dog. I would have given anything to have had them. They meant something to me. Ode and the song books formed a significant part of my life, my faith. I knew those small items were not worth anything and probably ended up in the trash. It’s the “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” truth. The songbooks were my treasure. They were something I shared with a man who was significant in my young life. His grandkids lived just next door, but they were busy being kids and didn’t realize how special it was to have your grandparents right next door.

I miss you Ode. Thank you for teaching me a quiet faith—one that doesn’t require looking down at people “lesser” than you. Thank you for showing me that while some families are created through blood, other families are created through the heart. I’m sorry for not visiting you in the nursing home or attending the service. I was young and selfish and I regret not getting to give you a proper goodbye. Thank you for giving me some of the most pleasant memories of my childhood and for politely sharing your amazing faith with me. What I wouldn’t give now to be able to tell you what an impact you made on my life. You will always be the grandpa made from my heart. I loved you so much.

"If there was ever anybody desevred a ticket to the other side It'd be that sweet old man who looked me in the eye, said

'I raise my hands, bow my head I'm finding more and more truth in the words written in red They tell me that there's more to life than just what i can see.

Oh, I Believe'.

I can't quote the book The chapter or the verse You can't tell me it all ends In a slow ride in a hearse You know I'm more and more convinced The longer that i live Yeah, this can't be No, this can't be No, this can't be all there is."

Damn Right, "Shoot him again"

Beware if you are a woman protecting her kids tonight in New York. Nanny Bloomberg will now take away your ability to protect your children.

Oh.... And the idiot legislature in New York were in such a hurry to pass their idiotic legislation that will not stop criminals FORGOT to exclude the police officers and military from their weapons ban.

So tonight every police office in NY is a criminal and every criminal now has the ability to outgun the police.

Remind me not to visit there anytime soon.

Happy Birthday Dad.

As we drove past my old apartment tonight I realized that it was twenty years ago tonight that we had, not our last Christmas birthday with you, but certainly the last Christmas where we still believed that our Christmases couldn't possible ever change. Where Christmas was filled with not hurt, but love.

I looked at your youngest son tonight, sitting in the kitchen with the other guys and I could have sworn it was you. The only thing missing was a cigarette and the leg cocked up in the kitchen chair, oh and hair of course. ;) It looked so much like the old days where the fathers just stayed away from the madhouse of the festivities until forced to become part of the celebration because someone had a gift for them.

I remembered when you would finally move from the kitchen into the living room to watch all the kids open their presents. I remember how hard it was to find something to give you that would need for your Christmas birthday and it always seemed to be only socks. I know the actual present didn't really matter that much anyway, but I always wanted to find you something better.

Although it was absolute chaos tonight, you would have loved it.

You would have loved seeing what fine adults your grandchildren are now. You would be so very proud of them. You would have loved that your and mom's influence didn't just extend to your children remaining closer than any family I know, you would have smiled seeng how the next generation is as dedicated as we are to remain committed to each other, no matter what.

You would have delighted in seeing your oldest great grandson now quickly becoming an adult who is one of the kindest guys I've known. You would have spoiled those next two great granddaughters who were dropped into our family, not from the stork, but from a gift from God and the State if Indiana.

You would have loved watching your youngest great granddaughter twirling in her new dress singing a beautiful Christmas song. And I know without a doubt that you would have been holding your youngest great grandson and loving that toddler stage. And you would have had tears in your eyes from laughter when this 18 mo old picked up an empty(thank goodness) beer bottle sitting on the coffee table and trying to swig it like he was a pro. You would have loved that our family continues to expand and yet never grow farther apart. Whether that expansion is through marriage and children, children though adoption or through bringing them into our family though new relationships.

I believe you would be proud that although it seemed impossible at times, we did manage to continue our family in your absence. And really shouldn't that be every parent's goal? To know that you raised your kids to be responsible strong adults who have against all odds raised their kids the same and who are now training their own children the same way.

But I hope it gives you peace that although there will always be an empty chair at Christmas, the room is filled with life, love and laughter.

But I wish you were here to enjoy all these wonderful new additions to your family and that they could have experienced a doting great grandpa.

But we still miss you.

I don't know of they celebrate birthdays up there in heaven, but that will not stop me from wish you a happy birthday anyway. I love you Dad. "Always Will". "Always will".

My Favorite

"This child that you delivered, will soon deliver you."

And please enjoy my friend's Z's version her voice is so beautiful.

Merry Christmas Friends. I hope peace for each of you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Random Acts of IPhone

I got nothin' to say, but they say an Iphone is worth a thousand words. That IS the saying, isn't it?

I could write a post every fifteen minutes if you would get inside my head all day long because I often think, "I could post something on this." And then I never get around to it. I snap a pic and have a great idea in my head but sitting down and typing it out is like herding hummingbirds.

So make of this what you will. Caption them, enjoy them, ignore them, it's up to you.

Anyone want to try to guess why this shadow is important?

Our yard frog after a storm.

I now have an orchid fetish.

Baby fish face

Don't ask me.

Ginny's homemade spaghetti recipe.  She isn't my aunt legally, but she sure is in my heart.

Yeah, even the Dish Guide has this right.

Saw this on the interstate one morning. Bigger it up to see why i did.  

Interesting Cha Cha answer.  One that I happen to agree with.

Note to self:  Don't try to catch your favorite Pampered Chef knife when its' falling.

Agriturismo in Volterra, Italy.  - Returning May 2013.

Manarola, Italy.  Returning to the top of the cliff again! 

Sowell and Friedman vs Piven

I might have to listen to the whole set of Milton Friedman videos.

These videos are old, but they are so very true today. Found one on a blog somewhere and just started watching the follow-up videos.

Lump in My Throat.

Stole this from my buddy, Ed.

Thank you Vets for your service.

Letters - REPOSTED for Veterans Day

This is a repost in honor of all of our veterans.  Thank you each and every one of you. 

He was young and newly married. By all accounts his bride was sweet, funny and beautiful and I'm sure they were starting their new life with a lot of hopeful expectations.

The letter was not in the plans.

But it came anyway. It looked alot like this:

In 1969, the number of troop levels in Vietnam had only slightly declined from the peak established two years previously.

The young marriage never stood a chance and was over before the end of his Basic Training.

Testing at the end of the Basic and Advanced Infantry Training indicated he was eligible for NCO Training school. Knowing that the odds were high that every draftee would be sent to Vietnam, he surmised that the 16 weeks of training would be 16 weeks less he would be in the middle of a nasty war.

They called guys like him "Shake n Bakes". They threw them into 16 weeks of training, shipped them off to Vietnam and called them Sarge. He was 20 years old.

His brother-in-law drove him to the airport. He was the only one in the family that he would tell even the date of his departure. He did not want any "goodbyes". It was likely a combination of not wanting to have a dreadfully emotional family departure, not tempting fate with a goodbye that could be forever and not wanting to lose control of his own emotions.

So he went off the "serve his country" for the next year. He still has the calendar where he marked off each day one by one. Was he afraid? Oh yeah, I would bet he was. Only someone mentally unstable could not be afraid.

Reality struck hard as the night flight was arriving in the midst of the war. Below you could see the rounds of the enemy fire. The pilot explained they would be turning off all of the outside lights of the aircraft while they landed in order to keep the enemy from shooting the plane or the young soldiers as they departed. Upon landing the guys literally had to run to a bunker while the bullets rained around them.

Most of the year he spent in a fox hole or beside one in his personnel carrier. There was little time in base camp. His mother sent a "care package" every three weeks or so. He still remembers them "saving" him from starving from the C rations. If you think those thoughts fade over time, you're wrong. Yesterday, without any discussion whatsoever that would trigger that memory he repeated those words. It was resurrected because he had taken a can of Vienna Sausages to work, thinking those tasted so good back then. I guess they did if you lived on C rations for nearly a year. Yesterday's lunch made him gag after forcing down three sausages. He recalled the guys practically fought over Beanie Weenies C rations . He shared the care packages with his troop, well at least some of them. He still recalls how they were estatic when there would be a drop of a pallet of warm beer.

War was different then. The Vietnam war cost 55,000 American lives. It was not waged smart. It was not waged to win. I'm reminded of a quote by General Schwarzkopf during Desert Storm, "when you go to war, you go to WIN." The general learned that lesson in Vietnam, where we sent our boys in trickles. Kill enough of them and then just send in a few more. It was not strategic. If was not even labeled a war, it was a "police action". There were no battle lines as in past wars. It was bloody and there was no way to accurately distinquish your enemy from your ally. By all accounts, American involvement lasted close to 20 years.

He would tell you there wasn't alot of sympathy of the deaths of 12-year-olds, because they were the ones who would walk up next to your buddy and casually put down a "satchel charge", a bomb hidden within an inconspicous satchel. Even young kids were your enemy and would kill you if given the chance.

Christmas Eve 1969: At night, the armored vehicles would form a parameter, much like a wagon circle of the olden days. His personnel carrier ended up just in front of a previously created bomb crater. This was one time his size was on his side. At 5'5, he could fit inside the crater unlike his fellow troops. He went to sleep that night lying in the crater.

At 1:00 a.m. Christmas morning, the night sky lit up like the 4th of July. The Viet Cong went on full attack. The other guys in the armor vehicles next to him were in the line of fire. The crater was small so he scrambled to get up to get to the personnel carrier and the machine gun. But he couldn't.

Only 6 months ago did he finally tell the following part of the story.

He felt as if something was physically pushing him back down. Confused, he tried again. And again, he was "shoved" back down. It was not fear, it was not a lack of courage, he had been tested for those too many times before and had "passed". When he was finally able to tell this part of the story it was because he could finally admit that he believed that night a force greater than himself actually forced him back. He never told that story because he didn't think anyone would believe him and he was simply overwhelmed by the feeling that it was only because it was simply not 'his time". A few minutes later he tried again, finally managing to scramble out of the crater and climbing up to the machine gun where he began firing the clips.

After a prolonged fight, he said the guns would get so hot that when you stopped firing they would continue firing rounds all on their own. They called that problem "cooking off". The guns were cooking and fired on their own until they cooled off.

Forty years later, Christmas Eve still brings back memories of that night. Two of the men were shot beside him. It was not a quick death. He heard their screams continue all night. The battle was too intense for the medics to arrive or for anyone else to help them. The men screamed through the wee hours of Christmas morning until they finally died from their injuries. Their screams finally ceased, well, except where they continue in his head to this day.

A few months later he would temporarily lose his hearing when a missle hit the side of his personnel carrier. It was supposed to have exploded on impact. If it had, he would have lost more than his hearing, he would have been dead. But again, it was not "his time".

Each night while the armored vehicles rounded up in their circle, one of the vehicle's crew would stand watch. They would station themselves on foot about 1/4 of a mile beyond the parameter of those sleeping. Back at the parameter every 15 minutes or so, they would request you to "break squelch" three times, which meant all was clear. Break squelch is silently hitting the transmit button on your field radio without speaking. It was a silent way to let the troops at the parameter know all was well. If you didn't respond or didn't break squelch three times, then the guys at the parameter knew there was a problem.

He talks of the night where he could hear the enemy walk right past him. It's moments like these where you learn to be stealthly quiet. He had to wait. He had to let them get past him before he could radio back to fire a round of illumination in order for them not to hear his transmission. Firing an illumination round would tell him where the artillery was pointed and then he could tell them where to adjust the rounds to ensure they were aiming toward the enemy and not the guys on watch. If he was off on his coordinates, it would have been very very bad.

Requesting an illumination round also carried a great risk. Firing it also warned the enemy. Once they spotted the illumination, they would run like hell. Which meant they could run right back into you if they scattered back in your direction.

Again, it was not his time. His coordinates were accurate and the enemy did not run in his direction.
An entire year spent in his young life. He tells of the plane ride home. All lights were out during take off and all was silent within the cabin. Any light or noise could let the enemy know a plane was leaving and it would be shot down, killing the soldiers who, up until then had been lucky enough to survive their tour of duty.

Upon reaching the proper altitude, spontaneously all of the men let out a deafening cheer. They had made it.

They were going home.

Except for very few men in his family, he never spoke of his time in Vietnam. It took 30 years when he finally began to tell the stories. Things like how the Koreans would go up into the mountains at night and brag to the Americans how many VC they had killed. The soldiers didn't believe them until one morning they brought back four severed heads of the enemy. Some men held the heads up by the hair for pictures. He refused claiming he never wanted his mother to ever find a picture of him in such a pose. He had sent the pictures to his step father, swearing him never to share them with anyone. Years later, they were returned to him and lay today among the other pictures that were taken at that time.

He harbors no ill for the guys that split to Canada. It was what it was. He never used a "Vietnam excuse" for anything in his life although now he wonders if it didn't harden his emotions, making him less open to expressing his feelings towards those he has loved throughout the years since.

He fought for his country. Every time, and I do mean EVERY TIME the National Anthem is sung, he stands still and if you look at his forearms you can see the goosebumps rise. The same is true for Lee Greenwood's Proud to be an American.

The day after 9-11 he adamantly stated that if the military would take someone his age he would enlist, he would go and fight and die for his country if need be. This time it would be his own choice. But of course, the military would enlist only men and women half his age.

He's not particularly political, nor does he keep firm tabs on world events. But he firmly believes in defending this country and keeping a strong military defense. To do otherwise invites the evil in this world to overtake the very freedoms that he and thousands before and after him have fought for.

America "appreciated" his efforts along with thousands of other young Vietnam soldiers by calling them baby killers and condemning them for being drafted into a war and serving their country. Only now do most Americans realize how badly the soldiers were treated.

Occasionally he would come across some of the things he had from the war and his service. About five years ago he wrote to the Army to get some of the medals from his service which were now missing, either from being lost or having never received. He wanted to make sure he could "pass them on" later.

The process was to write a letter to the Army. They would research your records and send you a notice of the medals you should have received and then you could request any missing medals.

The letter arrived while he was working a side job and his wife opened it, curious as to which ones he didn't have. They had been married for 15 years and when they met, enough time had passed so that he had told her nearly all of the stories that he had been hesitant to tell over the years.

Reading the listing of medals, she was confused. He had repeated over the years which ones he had and which ones were missing. She didn't remember all of the names, some were for the units in which he served, some of his rank and some of merit. But she was sure she never heard him mention one she saw on the list the Army sent.

She called him at work and asked him which medals should be on the list. He recited them off from memory and did not mention one of them that was on the list. The same one she had never heard him speak of.

He had served his country. He didn't do it by choice, but he had done it willingly and proudly.

He had not been awarded the missing medal in a ceremony nor even told of it in 35 years.

Weeks after receiving the offical letter from the Army, 35 years after his discharge, a goverment employee delivered the missing medal.

There between the electric bill and a sale catalog for Macys, the postal worker casually tossed a small package that contained his long-ago earned Bronze Star into the rural mailbox.

Please, if you have former war vets in your family, ask for a time when you can sit with them and find out all of their stories. I have Uncles who were in WWII and the Korean War. All of them are now gone. When my Uncle Bob passed away he had medals with the scription of "The Last Man" There was more than one. He fought in Sicily (if I remember correctly). I cannot imagine what must have happened to have "earned" that medal. I wished I had asked him to tell me about his war medals.

These stories should not be buried with our heroes. Ask someone you know, write it down and save history for our grandchildren.

I'm Going To Throw Up

America is lost.

As A Woman

I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of being labeled "female". By both campaigns.

I don't spend my day thinking about my gender. I don't spend my day thinking about who will cater to my ass because I quite frankly never look for anyone else to take care of me.

I don't want anyone finding my name in a binder because they are looking for the best woman for the job. I want to be hired because I am the best PERSON for the position.

If you are in business and you turn down a better qualified man to hire me because I'm female, then you are too stupid for me to want to work for you.

If you hire a less qualified black woman instead of me, then you are too stupid for me to want to work for you.

I seriously doubt that because my female parts didn't spit out a kid as much as I wanted them too that makes me less inclined for my "lady parts" to try to pull a lever when I vote.

I would never deign to assume that most men don't think with their man parts for the majority of their lives. (sorry guys, but you know the minute a pretty girl is within a mile of you that's exactly what happens). But I sure as hell don't know ANY woman that makes the voting decision based upon what their uterus thinks.

Hell, these idiots claim it's the vagina, not the uterus that holds the baby they rejoice in aborting. I didn't get the joy of ever holding one precious life of mine and I know the difference.

(See the orignal thing below)

QUIT CATERiNG THE €£#% to me.

I find it disgusting.

What I cannot fathom is that even as I have never embraced the feminist bull, the next generation of women have actually taken a HUGE leap backward.

I had resisted reading the latest woman fad novel. But a young girl I worked with convinced me to read the trash. I purchased it on my Nook Glow and hoped all the way through the end I could find one, just one redeeming value in it.

Instead what I found out that women in America have apparently raved about a trashy novel whose heroin is some fraidy cat college coed who gives up her virginity to some warped S&M sicko and then subjects herself to the demeaning abusive bastard that needs to spend his days in a maximum security prison with Big Bubba as his cell mate.

What in the hell has happened to women these days?

If that lousy piece of trash is what the majority of women in America immerse themselves in then it's no wonder the Obama Campaign would think an ad with an idiot Hollywood nobody comparing voting for the first time as losing her virginity as a good idea.

At this point, I am inclined to believe that women should never have been given the right to vote in the first place.

Friday I stood in line at the courthouse for 30 minutes to cast my vote. They said the early voting began October 6th and it had been a constant stream everyday. Already 6,000 had voted. There is not doubt how my county votes. Except I cannot help from eyeing everyone in line and wondering if they are voting for revenge or because they love the country.

Original idiotic ad:

Things that seem to be a no brainer.

"Providing protection is a tad more important for an Embasssy than a Co-Ed."

Greg Gutfeld. The Five.

News From a Swing State

Been hanging out here in Fort Myers since a week ago Wednesday.

From a pure non-scientific analysis, the ads are rampant here. For the most part the Romney ads have been positive, Obama ads have said Romney will end Medicare, eliminate the mortgage deduction and kill all young women like he was an Islamic extremist.

In the airport I saw one women with a big Obama button the night of the debate. Other than that I have seen no sign of Obama support.

A drive from here to Bonita Beach along Fort Myers Beach, we saw perhaps a dozen beachside properties with Romney Ryan signs. Not a huge endorsement, but we saw none for Obama.

Along a fairly large empty lot just off Bonita Beach, there were four large signs blasting Obama with "Get Him Out". Saw smaller versions along Bonita Beach, probably a half dozen places with anti-Obama signs.

Three cars or so with Romney signs. Not one with Obama.

So, in this swing state, I have seen one Obama button versus twenty or so Romney signs.

Oh.

A couple days after we arrived, the house phone rings. We only have it connected for the alarm and it's registered with the Do Not Call List. When I answered it a pleasant young lady (dare I say she sounded black without being labeled a racist?) greeted me saying she was from the Obama campaign and asked me of I could be counted on to provide them financial support.

I laughed my best imitation of a Joe Biden laugh and said NO. The nice lady then asked, "so are you still undecided?" I could not help but laugh again and say ,"no, I have NEVER been undecided."

By now I would have thought she would have gotten the message, but like most Obamabots she could not see the overly obvious sign she was in the wrong track.

She asked me if I was then supporting Romney. I told her that I supported Anyone But Obama. She wished me a good day and I returned the favor.

And tonight the house phone rings again however Bob picked it up. He was evasive as to who they wanted to speak to but the conversation was quick. He couldn't understand the caller other than she was from the Obama campaign. Not sure who hung up first, the guy that hates politics but will be voting for Romney or the caller who couldn't get the answer she was looking for.

Just read where Frank Luntz is taking Florida out of the swing state category. If our experience here is any indication, I'd say he's correct.

The Sell

I make it pretty clear that I despise shopping. Unless it's a book store or a kitchen gadget store, I avoid shopping until my attire looks so ragged that one might assume I'm on the verge of being homeless.

While I was making out my grocery list this morning, I got a wild hair to buy some new tennis shoes. The last pair I bought was over three years ago right before I left for Italy. Up until then I would not pay more than $50 for tennis shoes. When I was trying on shoes, the saleslady at Dick's Sporting Goods convinced me to try on some $120 shoes with bright lilac stripes. They were not anything I would have picked out, but once I tried them on I realized that she was right. My high arch was supported by the not-so-me shoe and I never regretted spending that money.

So today I went to the mall to hopefully find another well informed salesman who could tell me the right kind of shoe to get for my feet. It took awhile, but finally I got a salesguy that showed me the same type of shoe, but it was much more my style and now at a bargain rate of $79.

Instead of immediately exiting the mall, which would be my normal M.O. I trekked out to see if I might actually find something that captured my eye.

So I'm walking past the stores and kiosks when one of those hawker kiosk guys tries to stop me. I glanced over, shook my head and moved on. The young man then asked me a question I couldn't quite hear. Normally I would just walk on but something about the tone of the question stopped me. He was a young guy with a Middle East accent and look.

I couldn't quite place his accent, not Indian, not Saudi. When I slowed to figure out what he said, he smiled. This kid was slick. He wasn't overly attractive in a physical sense, nice looking, but just okay but this boy knew how to put out the charm.

He asked me if I wore my nails natural. Well I do now and although they are thin, the last few weeks they have survived long enough to be a nice length. He gave me a flirty smile and took a buffer and buffed my thumbnail to a clear nail polish shine.

I knew I was not going to spend money on an overly priced buffer and he shows me this whole kit. I'm a hard sell and I wasn't falling for a charming, sweet talking cute 20 year old. So I don't fall for the cute grin when he tells me the normal price is $62 but its on sale for $49. No way Jose, I mean Mohammad. He continues asking me questions about my nails. I tell him I'm too lazy to mess with them. Then he asks me what I do, when I tell him I'm in IT he asks me if I wash my hands a lot. He continues holding my hand when I tell him no. He smiles and says "So you're a dirty girl." I wasn't quite sure if he knew the double entendre or he was just making a joke. In either case it still made me laugh. He knew I was on to his game.

He didn't have the hokey charm, but real charm, obviously well versed in charming the ladies, even the old frumpy ones. So with a definite "No" he then pulls out a crunched up box. Gives me another charming song and dance. By then I'm smiling. We both know its a game he's good at. I tell him so. He shows me the discounted box and then turns it over and says, "And look here, this is made in Israel. Not in China." So then I'm wondering if my new cute crush is an Israeli. Which instantly makes him even more cute in my book. He takes out his calculator and says he can sell me the damaged box for $24. I tell him I'll pay him $15.

He smiles and puts his arm around me. "Oh I can't do that." I laugh, enjoying this kid's successful attempt at making an old lady enjoy being flirted with even if its just for a sale. I told him he was really good at this but I didn't really need it but I enjoyed his sales pitch as I walked on.

I browsed a couple stores for a whole 15 minutes, which is much too long for my taste and start my way back. I know I must pass the kiosk again and honestly the thought about the products being made in Israel was sticking in my brain occupying the same space as still enjoying being flirted with by a young boy. (No, I'm not under any delusion that he was flirting other than for the sale, but it's still a nice feeling.)

So I walk back toward the kiosk and I find my cute young man. He starts to go back to his spiel when he realizes this was the fish that just got away. He grins that cute smile, puts his arm back around me while pulling out the damaged box and I grin and tell him I'll give him $20. He then says, "oh Baby, no." He already knows he has me reeled in and I laugh again at watching this snake charmer in action. You have to appreciate a good salesguy that can pull that off without seeming smarmy.

He's still flirting as he's ringing up the sale. Tells me his name is at the top of the receipt, it's Zion. Huh. I'm again wondering if he's Israeli. Call me racist, but it's easy to find a young Israeli more charming than a Pakistani. Perhaps it's because I'm thinking about him practicing to be a suicide bomber.

I leave the mall smiling, which is unusual for me.

Maybe now I understand better why old men are swayed into the charms of young good looking girls that know how to put on a good flirt.

Hey, I'm old, not dead.

What???

When liberal psychos Chris Matthews and Ed Schultz are saying Romeny wasn't angry, but determined and that Obama looked weak and using a lack of debate experience as an excuse was not accurate the you know that debate didn't go Obama's way.

Normally I cannot watch MSNBC but this debate analysis is just pure entertainment.

Imagine what the VP debate will bring.

The Bot Man Cometh

My email is filling up with unpublished comments from some bot regarding my Tolerance From My Back Yard post.

I suppose that the assholes that create these things keep posting over and over regardless if the comments actually are published.

Blogger at least stops them from being published but not from sending the email notification.

But in case you're in need, I have plenty of leads on buying various drugs now.

I've turned on word verification until the bots kill themselves from a drug overdose.

Sorry guys.

That Play Was CRAZY

Let's forget all this bickering, yelling, fighting and calling of names.

Ha, if the video below wasn't there, you would think I was talking about the election, wouldn't you?

Nope.

Silence is Golden

Been awfully quiet around these parts lately.

No real reason other than I've been spending too much time wrapped up in this lousy election season. CnC and I went to see 2016. He's been pestering ever since to do a He Said She Said and I've been too lazy.

We went to dinner before the movie. Bob joined us for dinner. When he started complaining to CnC about my obsession with politics I started laughing. Usually my brother is ALWAYS on Bob's side, but I knew this was one area where Mark would find it impossible to join in razzing his baby sis. I told Robert he was preaching to the wrong choir.

The family has gathered today down in southern Indiana for a semi-reunion. I ate like a pig last night at my favorite place down here. A German restaurant that has the best chicken livers in the country and apple strudel.

I was going to upload a picture but Mr. Jobs must have hated bloggers.

I WILL NOT FORGET

He's never known a pre 9/11 world.

My grandson was born in the year 2002.

And yet, he's still young enough to not know of the threat that we still face.

I don't hate anyone.

But I still don't trust. Some want to call that bigotry. That still just under the surface I do not trust Islamists.

If I am suspicious of people that belong to a faith that wishes to wipe Israel off the face of the earth, if I'm suspicious of people that plotted to kill thousands of people doing nothing more than going to work in the morning in a very tall building, if I still believe they would do it again and pray to Allah to make it worse than 9/11 and that makes me a bigot, then so be it.

Everyone grieves differently. I learned that horrible reality after my father's death.

On the anniversary of 9/11 my grief is only assuaged by wallowing in deep, white hot anger.

My grief is not right or wrong, your grief is not right or wrong. It just IS.

Some refuse to relive it. That's how they must deal with it.

For me, I must wrap myself in the memory. I have to spend time feeling it all I've again. I do not know why. It's just my way of handling it.

When I think about 9/11, I have absolutely no doubt that Satan lives today. And he breeds the hatred that inspired these evil men.

What frightens me more than that horrible day is the insistence from so many today that we are bigots if we believe the Islamic extremists are no longer a threat. That we are to turn our backs on the very people that wield box cutters so they can slice our throats again.

No, of course they do not want to harm us. No reason to think it could happen again tomorrow.

Are we safer? Probably not by much.

Where are you Jeff D? Update: Jeff D is a pathetic loser.

Since you're my ghost IP visitor I never know whether you still visit occasionally. Tonight I tried to go to your site and you were gone.

I hope that's not true, I know blogger sometimes gets site messed up.

Hope things are okay.

Update: See Diamond Dave's comment below. Jeff was a hoax.

Hey Jeff: Google Brad Paisley's song, Online. You make George Costanza seem like a success.

H.O.L.Y. COW

Someone is having a huge facepalm moment this evening.

Hurricane Watch

Our Fort Myers neighbor called and said our community was putting down sandbags and putting up the hurricane shutters.

Not to worry, our shutters are safe.....tucked away in the corner of the garage.

My Favorite Martian

My nephew posted this today on Facebook.

This "kid" makes you feel the excitement of seeing your dream come true.

Ignorance At It's Best

Just when you think government can't come up with any more ignorant ideas comes this.

Another suicidal idea from the Great State of California, specifically San Bernadino County.

I'm becoming more and more convinced we should be requiring IQ tests before running for office. ANY office.

So the geniuses holding county offices in San Stupiderino County have decided it would be a good idea to use eminent domain on property whose owners are under water in their mortgages to "save" the property values.

WTF?

So we have local governments across the nation cutting back on police and fire services because of critical budget shortfalls but we have counties in California of all places thinking they should now bail out homeowners whose houses are worth probably half of what the mortgage is.

Were these idiots dropped on their heads when they were young?

Ignoring the obvious problem of the county finding funding to buy the property in the first place, they believe they would then give the homeowner a reduced mortgage. Yes, the local government thinks they will now be in the mortgage business. Assuming the homeowner would suddenly begin paying the new mortgage (and that's a big ASSumption) these county gubmint pinheads apparently do not understand the words, cash flow. Their money is now tied up in long term investments. Extremely low interest rate long term investments. Let's imagine five years from now when rates are tripled what they are today and the county needs to borrow funds at the high rate while the mortgages might be returning 4%.

They also do not understand what will happen to the real estate market by their "solution" to the looming foreclosures.

Just what do they think will happen to very single mortgage lender in the country?

I could give them a one minute lesson in what happened when parts of Chicago passed a ruling that every mortgage applicant had to receive mandatory counciling within 7 days after applying for a mortgage.

Lenders have to process loans FAST. Delaying an application for at least a week is an eternity for a lender. As soon as that was announced the mortgage company I worked for took the zip codes involved and red-lined the area.

No mortgage would even be considered for houses within the affected areas. And every other mortgage company did the same.

If these knuckleheads in California get this done, they have just killed the real estate industry there.

There will be no bank, no mortgage company, no investor that will ever lend there again. People and companies have this quirky aversion to lending money only to have some local government use their powers to return half their investment.

If it wasn't for my friend Z I'd think the entire state is nothing but crazed whackos.

Add that to the real estate sales tax that was buried in the Affordable Care Act. If you make more than $250k a year (which would not be rich if you lived in the Golden State) there is now a 3.8% sales tax on the full sales price on the property paid by the seller. What does that have to do with health care? Not a damned thing.

No way the housing market will recover anytime soon.

I don't know these people, so this really isn't a post about politics. It's actually pretty funny. Well, I guess it wouldn't be if you were the one in the video, but it's entertaining for the ridiculousness of the subject.

Now that's gotta hurt.

H/T Hotair

Always The Bridesmaid - He Said - She Said.

One night I dreamed that I was the Matron of Honor for a friend of mine. I remember thinking it was kinda odd that I was chosen as the "First" girl since I am technically only a friend of a friend. So I wondered why our mutual friend, the best friend wasn't even in the wedding party.

I was standing up looking over the crowd for our mutual friend during the wedding, in my dream it was in the church where my niece had gotten married when I was her Matron of Honor.

It was odd enough, but even a bit more so since Jim, my friend of a friend is a guy. And he's gay.

That's always the misconception people have about Conservatives, especially Christian Conservatives.

They assume we hate gay people. I don't hate anyone. Well, Wasserman-Schultz might come close, but that's a story for another day (or not).

Anyway, after my dream, I wrote on Jim's facebook page about my dream. He found it quite amusing as did I.

Kevin worked with me for a couple years. He was a great guy, always chasing the hot chicks that were WAY out of his league. He even once asked our boss out after we quit working together. She declined.

Out of earshot Jim would INSIST Kevin was gay. He always said he had his "gaydar" out and that Kevin was gay and just wouldn't admit it. It had a bit of a ring to truth to it, though.

And, of course a couple years ago, Kevin decided he WAS gay and did come out of the closet. Jim just shook his head. Jim has been with his "husband" for years. I'm pretty sure they have never gotten legally married, but he's worn a wedding band ever since I've known him.

Both Jim and Kevin are conservative. Interesting, no?

Because Jim and Kevin are friends of mine on Facebook, I would not comment there of my opinion on the whole Chick-Fil-A fiasco. I respect both of them and did not want to have them think I was judging them. I found it interesting that neither of them or my other gay friends posted anything either. Nothing for, nothing against.

Here's what I do know.

Suppose Jim's partner's family did not approve of the relationship (hypothetical). And suppose after living together for years that Jim's partner was deathly sick. And suppose the family wouldn't allow Jim into see his partner on his death bed, or be allowed to go to his funeral.

That's just wrong, I don't care what you believe.

But.

While I believe Jim should be afforded every single right that a married man should have, I have an issue with those rights being called "marriage". My faith justs prevents that. I just can't go that far.

But I don't believe that being gay is any "worse sin" that any other. And so I will not judge Jim or Kevin or anyone else. I honestly believe they are born that way. (Please no one start with the Lady Gag Gag line.)

I don't think God is going to toss Jim and his partner into the flames of hell unless they could be prayed back into straighthood. A sin is a sin and thankfully Someone gave His life so that none of us would burn. The truth is we should all burn, right?

For Jim's sake I do wish there was a Civil Union where he and his husband could be afforded the same rights as me and my husband, but currently our state would not recognize that union. Thankfully he is not in that situation where his partner's family would ever deny him his decent human right to be with the person he has loved all these years.

So, I saw no point in broadcasting my fervent belief that Mr. Cathy has every right in the world to believe and SAY that he believes in the Biblical tradition of marriage. I didn't see my gay friends screaming about how Cathy is evil and shouldn't be allowed his freedom of speech or religion. They don't push their "agenda". They don't even seem to have an agenda.

They love who they love. And who they love does not affect my life one little bit. It's only when someone, anyone starts claiming that by expressing their belief they should be tarred and feathered and put out of business that it begins to affect my life. I chose to remain silent on the subject for the sake of my friends. They apparently decided to do the same. Or more likely they also believe in freedom of speech and religion even when it disagrees with what they believe and live. As much as I despise Westboro satanists, they have a right to their hateful speech. I have no doubt they will burn in hell while my gay friends and family will not.

Tolerance my friends goes both directions. Now let's see what He Said.

Take a Minute and Feel Good About Life

This will do it for you. Watch all the way through. Makes me wanna hug someone.

Keep Your Eye On The Ball Folks

While you're being distracted with either eating the best chicken nuggets today or saying you'll never eat at Chick-Fil-A again, something else is taking effect.

Only Catholic Churches are exempt.

That's ONLY CHURCHES.

Catholic Universities and Charities are NOT exempt. They've DELAYED charitable institutions until after the election.

So, while everyone is concerned that Chick-Fil-A is able to express their speech and religion, today anyone who believes that abortion is murder is now REQUIRED to pay for abortion producing drugs.

I won't, but I am really REALLY wanted to post one of those horrible pictures of those precious lives that have been slaughtered. Instead, I'll post a pic of the newest member of my family, my great nephew, CnC's first grandbaby.

How anyone can believe our First Amendment rights are not under attack is beyond me.

So eat the chicken or don't eat the chicken, but pay more attention that today, if you are a pro-life business owner that has self-funded insurance, you are today REQUIRED to pay the entire balance of someone else's decision of aborting a baby.

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you." Jeremiah 1:5

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances."

11 Minutes and Counting

Until the Opening Ceremonies.

So, enjoy.  (Dang it.  I uploaded the wrong video the first time).  This one's better.

Beans Don't Burn On The Grill

"Took a whole lot of tryin'.
Just to get up that hill."

Sounds like George Jefferson was an evil capitalist.

Now imagine if someone told Mr. Jefferson,

"Look, if you've been successful, you didn't get there on your own. You didn't get there on your own.  I'm always struck by people who think, 'Well, it must be because I was just so smart.' There are a lot of smart people out there. 'It must be because I worked harder than everybody else.' Let me tell you something: There are a whole bunch of hardworking people out there. If you were successful, somebody along the line gave you some help."

I applaud you George.  You DID get there on your own and you ARE entitled to enjoy that DEluxe apartment in the sky. 

"Now we're up in the big leagues,
Gettin' our turn at bat.
As long as we live, it's you and me baby,
There ain't nothin wrong with that."

No there is NOTHIN' wrong with that.

God love ya George.

(Dang it.  Andrea Tantaros beat me to this.  I wrote this the other night when Sherman Helmsley passed away and I didn't publish it.  Tonight's One More Thing on The Five included the theme song and talking about George being a capitalist.  I could have claimed she stole my idea if I had only published it first.)

My New Job Opportunity

Just received in the email today.  Yeah, I think I'll jump right on this one.

Hello,  (No, I didn't even blank out my name, there was no name after Hello)

We would like you to pay attention to the following job offer.

Our company is called Worldwide Electronic Retailing Shipper incorporated. We are currently recruiting employees to fill in the position at courier service department. We have an online department looking for employees on the internet, so if you have received this letter, that means that your CV has been seen on the web by the online recruiting department managers.


WERS inc is a European company based in Poland that provides retail sales of products(mostly modern electronic devices) and selling it to European customers. We are growing and continue to develop since 2005.

The position we offer you will include receiving the products and shipping them out.


You will be required to receive shipments via FedEx, UPS, and send through USPS.


There are no investments from your side. Company provides pre paid shipping labels. Your pay is monthly and it is $60 per each package rate with $1500 minimal guaranteed amount. After first and second month of successful cooperation, we provide the modern devices as a bonuses for each of our employees. (Apple iPhones and Mac laptops, Blackberry phones and Sony Vaio laptops).


The requirements are:


- be available to work on PC with internet access
- have day time contact phone number
- 18 years old minimum
- constant shipping address

Mostly all packages are not big and will not require any special storage place.
If you are interested, please contact us via email.

Imagine If You Will

That you are sitting at your desk one day when your assistant walks in terribly upset.

He begins to tell you a story about witnessing a horrible act, an obscene act.  One that would bring shame to your organization.  But you hesitate.

Surely your assistant is wrong, surely a guy you've known for years is not doing something so unspeakable to young boys.

So you do what your position requires. You tell your immediate boss.  And that boss decides to do nothing. 

Nothing.

That's best, right?  Why would you want to jeopardize your organization's reputation? 

But deep down, you know that's not right. 

MAYBE, perhap just maybe you might go along with that.  Assuming that the problem would not be allowed to continue.

But it does. 

And you do NOTHING to stop it.

Nothing.

Maybe you could justify one instance.  Maybe someone has a talk with the bastard who could not only do something so vile, but do it openly, in the showers of the school.  Maybe you could talk yourself into believing that it would stop.

But then you could not blind yourself to the other boys that came along.  Those that were becoming close to the monster you KNEW would rape them.

If you were a "good man".  If you were truly someone to be admired.  If you did not believe your almighty football god outweighed the evilness of permitting more rapes of innocent, needy young boys.  If you were not even a good man, but at least a decent man, an average man. 

What would you do when you realized the second boy?

What would you do when you heard another story, of someone else realizing what was going on?

What would you do when you are discussing the situation in email exchanges with your bosses?

Would you justify that you did only what was required of you?  Would you say to yourself in the mirror each morning that you should not report the incident to the cops because it would embarrass your school and ruin the school's reputation?

Would you know all that and still watch another young man's life be ripped apart and you did NOTHING?

For THIRTEEN YEARS???

Were those 111 wins THAT important to you Joe?  That you would not just sell out your own soul, but you offered up to the football god you loved so much innocent children who only needed help?

I might believe Paterno was a decent man, not a good man, but at least a normal human being IF he had said with the second boy, ENOUGH.  But he didn't.

And neither did the administration.  Or the assistants.  Or the janitors. 

NO ONE said anything.

What kind of evilness/vanity/ego must you possess to sell off more young boys to be raped in honor of the football god?

May the Good Lord have more mercy on your seemingly untortured soul, Joe.  He would have to be more forgiving than I could ever be. 

Please, for all you college football fans, do NOT tell me how unfair it to the school or the kids that were in those winning games.  They still got the "glory" of winning.  They still have their championship rings.  They just lost their "hero".  Who was never a hero at all.  He was a man who cared more about his reputation than preserving the innocence of a young boy.

I can sympathize with their loss when they realize their idolized coach was only driven by ego, but I cannot understand how they could be more upset over having their wins recorded as losses over what they must realize was the sacrificed young boys to the ultimate football god.