.
For years, I always drove a cheap import car back and forth to work, and wherever else I could, thus saving the family car for better things. I'd put on 60k-80k a year on the little cheap import until the engine was about to quit. Then I'd replace the engine/transmission with a low mileage (sometimes 18k) used engine imported here from Japan. The engines were barely broke in and were about a third the price it would cost to have mine rebuilt. I always wondered where they came from.
Well, I found out. It is my understanding that when a car is purchased new in Japan , the taxes and registration fee are next to nothing. But as the car begins to age, the fees go up, until a point around three years when the car becomes unaffordable to keep. So the Japs just buy a new one every 2-3 years, which stimulates their economy, reduces their fuel usage, and keeps their air cleaner. Then the engines/trannys are removed and sold to the Americans.
What a novel concept. No need for the American taxpayers to pay the cost of our Cash for Clunkers program, while accomplishing the same thing, but with better results.
.
And tomorrow, I'll pass along more information from the Thought Dock, about programs in Japan.
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Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Saving Water
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Recently, I saw a local newscast covering a group of animal rights activists protesting in the streets of the second largest city in Oregon. During an interview with the reporter, one activist alleged that to bring one steer from birth to slaughter, an equivalent amount of water is used by two adults taking a daily, 7-minute shower for six months. The activist also stated that 63% of all the water used in America is for producing food (I think she was saying that was for both farms and ranches, but I don't really know). I'm not sure, but I think she was encouraging everyone to stop eating beef because it was taxing the country's water supply.
Now, I've done the math for you. If one adult consumes 7 gallons of water to shower every day, then two adults use 14, so I guess a cow uses 14 gallons a day.
Based upon the figures she gave, and some of my own which I think are practical estimates, here is how much water an average adult consumes, not including other related water consumption like food, etc, per day,
One 7-minute shower (if you use the low-flow head which few do) is 7 gallons. Eight toilet flushes (if you use the newer 1.2 gallon flushers, and then quickly wash your hands) is 10 gallons. 1 gallon for laundry, 1 gallon for drinking, 1 gallon for laundry and food preparation. That totals 20 gallons per day, not including all the water we use to keep the lawns up, wash the car, and etc. And I kind of think this estimate is very low.
I am wrestling with a couple of things here. Since to stop eating beef would increase the demand for food that is grown, wouldn't that mean more water for the gardens? Would the extra water for that extra garden food be greater than the water used to raise the steak? If we ate more watermelon, would that reduce the amount of water the experts tell us to drink? If we ate more veggies, the fiber would cause us to poop more, therefore flushing the toilet more often. Or if we drank more milk instead of water, wouldn't that be a plus to keep raising cows?
What is true is that our water supply is short. Now it may increase when the polar caps melt, but that remains to be seen. I need help here, and I'm interested in what you think should be done. Please take the time to participate in the poll at the left. It will only be up for three days.
I'll analyze the results from the Thought Dock.
.
Recently, I saw a local newscast covering a group of animal rights activists protesting in the streets of the second largest city in Oregon. During an interview with the reporter, one activist alleged that to bring one steer from birth to slaughter, an equivalent amount of water is used by two adults taking a daily, 7-minute shower for six months. The activist also stated that 63% of all the water used in America is for producing food (I think she was saying that was for both farms and ranches, but I don't really know). I'm not sure, but I think she was encouraging everyone to stop eating beef because it was taxing the country's water supply.
Now, I've done the math for you. If one adult consumes 7 gallons of water to shower every day, then two adults use 14, so I guess a cow uses 14 gallons a day.
Based upon the figures she gave, and some of my own which I think are practical estimates, here is how much water an average adult consumes, not including other related water consumption like food, etc, per day,
One 7-minute shower (if you use the low-flow head which few do) is 7 gallons. Eight toilet flushes (if you use the newer 1.2 gallon flushers, and then quickly wash your hands) is 10 gallons. 1 gallon for laundry, 1 gallon for drinking, 1 gallon for laundry and food preparation. That totals 20 gallons per day, not including all the water we use to keep the lawns up, wash the car, and etc. And I kind of think this estimate is very low.
I am wrestling with a couple of things here. Since to stop eating beef would increase the demand for food that is grown, wouldn't that mean more water for the gardens? Would the extra water for that extra garden food be greater than the water used to raise the steak? If we ate more watermelon, would that reduce the amount of water the experts tell us to drink? If we ate more veggies, the fiber would cause us to poop more, therefore flushing the toilet more often. Or if we drank more milk instead of water, wouldn't that be a plus to keep raising cows?
What is true is that our water supply is short. Now it may increase when the polar caps melt, but that remains to be seen. I need help here, and I'm interested in what you think should be done. Please take the time to participate in the poll at the left. It will only be up for three days.
I'll analyze the results from the Thought Dock.
.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
There comes a Point
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During the course of my life I have had the opportunity to impact the lives of many and that continues most every day. From my immediate family, to my friends, my co-workers, and people that I've met during the course of my profession, I've attempted to help wherever possible. And seeing those people sometimes many years after meeting them, it seems that I've had positive results from many of my contacts. I'm not so arrogant to say that I saved the world, but I do think I've made it a better place, at least for some.
To see my daughters, each maturing into responsible and respected persons in their community, makes me proud. To receive a thank you note years after arresting a youth involved in a theft, who rose up to get a college education and become a respected nurse in her community, makes me proud. To have orchestrated an intervention for an alcoholic co-worker who now has 20 years of sobriety makes me proud. To learn that a man used me for a job reference like I offered four years before when I talked to him about his drug use, make me proud.
But not all of my endeavors were successful. Like the lady that I met after she had been beaten and threatened with death by her husband that I couldn't convince to to leave her home, at least temporarily, even offering to give her a place to stay. The same lady that I later found dead in her living room on my next call there. Like a school friend that I talked to about using hashish that later died driving drunk.
Now, I know I am not one who comes across to most people as an especially compassionate person. Just as I don't come across as a happy person, filled with jokes and laughter. But, for a few that know me, they have seen the real me.
But here's where I might fall short. I am sympathetic to those that are in need, and I try to give assistance. But when they refuse to heed my help, there comes a point in time when I draw the line. Those that I once was sympathetic to, become pathetic to me.
Does that make sense? It's like after I give it my best, and that is rejected, I stop trying. And, at that time, I couldn't care less about the person I was trying to assist. If the person fails at the job I found for him, or goes right back to the state that I found him in, or dies of an overdose, I wouldn't care.
Sympathetic or pathetic. I'll be there at the Thought Dock.
.
During the course of my life I have had the opportunity to impact the lives of many and that continues most every day. From my immediate family, to my friends, my co-workers, and people that I've met during the course of my profession, I've attempted to help wherever possible. And seeing those people sometimes many years after meeting them, it seems that I've had positive results from many of my contacts. I'm not so arrogant to say that I saved the world, but I do think I've made it a better place, at least for some.
To see my daughters, each maturing into responsible and respected persons in their community, makes me proud. To receive a thank you note years after arresting a youth involved in a theft, who rose up to get a college education and become a respected nurse in her community, makes me proud. To have orchestrated an intervention for an alcoholic co-worker who now has 20 years of sobriety makes me proud. To learn that a man used me for a job reference like I offered four years before when I talked to him about his drug use, make me proud.
But not all of my endeavors were successful. Like the lady that I met after she had been beaten and threatened with death by her husband that I couldn't convince to to leave her home, at least temporarily, even offering to give her a place to stay. The same lady that I later found dead in her living room on my next call there. Like a school friend that I talked to about using hashish that later died driving drunk.
Now, I know I am not one who comes across to most people as an especially compassionate person. Just as I don't come across as a happy person, filled with jokes and laughter. But, for a few that know me, they have seen the real me.
But here's where I might fall short. I am sympathetic to those that are in need, and I try to give assistance. But when they refuse to heed my help, there comes a point in time when I draw the line. Those that I once was sympathetic to, become pathetic to me.
Does that make sense? It's like after I give it my best, and that is rejected, I stop trying. And, at that time, I couldn't care less about the person I was trying to assist. If the person fails at the job I found for him, or goes right back to the state that I found him in, or dies of an overdose, I wouldn't care.
Sympathetic or pathetic. I'll be there at the Thought Dock.
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Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Sell all......
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.....your crap and give it to the poor. That's what Jesus said. Not in those exact words, but in that context.
To understand the context of His statement, one must consider the time, place, and atmosphere in which it was made. You see, Jesus was poor, and emerged to be the Leader of the poor. Not just the regular poor that comes to mind today, but the Jews that were in slaved by the powerful kings of the day. For hundreds of years, they were kept poor, and forced to work, or put to death. Those were the poor that Jesus was talking about.
The poor people of today in America are different. This country has never been ruled by the greedy kings of Jesus' time, but founded upon and with Christian fundamentals in mind. We no longer have slavery, and people have the opportunity for education, and employment, and the freedom to pursue their dreams. And many of the most prominent and famous Americans came from the ranks of the poor. I don't think Jesus was talking about these people, because they didn't exist in His world.
Now, we do have poor people in America today Jesus was talking about. He was talking about poor people, through no fault of their own, who remain or become poor. The elderly, the very young, the disabled, the ignorant, the ill, the handicapped, and some that have suffered great misfortunes. These people are much like the poor of Jesus' day. And these people have my sympathy and prayer. And I help these people whenever I can, much more than that some of you realize. But, I'm not beating my chest, rather I do it in a more humble way, and without an expectation in return. Many times I identify these people my self and give assistance directly to them, while at other times, I give to organizations that I trust and support my views.
But there is another type of poor in America. These are the ones that refuse to work, the ones that refuse to contribute to society, and the ones that expect society to support them without giving anything in return. Now, I'm not yet one that is able to quote scripture from the top of my head, but I do know there are references in the Bible about people like these. And, I don't believe that these are the people that God expects us to help. And I won't give my crap to these poor people.
So, in short, that beggar guy that is disguised as a poor fisherman that I've mentioned in past posts will not get help from me. And there are others, similar to him, that I won't support either, unless the government uses taxes that I pay for him. But that is beyond my control. Now, you might seem to think I'm a little judgemental with that, but that is what I believe my direction is.
OK, so beat me up now if you so choose. Present you case. Quote your scripture or give your rationale to support your views. And then we'll move on for more at another time from the Thought Dock
.
.....your crap and give it to the poor. That's what Jesus said. Not in those exact words, but in that context.
To understand the context of His statement, one must consider the time, place, and atmosphere in which it was made. You see, Jesus was poor, and emerged to be the Leader of the poor. Not just the regular poor that comes to mind today, but the Jews that were in slaved by the powerful kings of the day. For hundreds of years, they were kept poor, and forced to work, or put to death. Those were the poor that Jesus was talking about.
The poor people of today in America are different. This country has never been ruled by the greedy kings of Jesus' time, but founded upon and with Christian fundamentals in mind. We no longer have slavery, and people have the opportunity for education, and employment, and the freedom to pursue their dreams. And many of the most prominent and famous Americans came from the ranks of the poor. I don't think Jesus was talking about these people, because they didn't exist in His world.
Now, we do have poor people in America today Jesus was talking about. He was talking about poor people, through no fault of their own, who remain or become poor. The elderly, the very young, the disabled, the ignorant, the ill, the handicapped, and some that have suffered great misfortunes. These people are much like the poor of Jesus' day. And these people have my sympathy and prayer. And I help these people whenever I can, much more than that some of you realize. But, I'm not beating my chest, rather I do it in a more humble way, and without an expectation in return. Many times I identify these people my self and give assistance directly to them, while at other times, I give to organizations that I trust and support my views.
But there is another type of poor in America. These are the ones that refuse to work, the ones that refuse to contribute to society, and the ones that expect society to support them without giving anything in return. Now, I'm not yet one that is able to quote scripture from the top of my head, but I do know there are references in the Bible about people like these. And, I don't believe that these are the people that God expects us to help. And I won't give my crap to these poor people.
So, in short, that beggar guy that is disguised as a poor fisherman that I've mentioned in past posts will not get help from me. And there are others, similar to him, that I won't support either, unless the government uses taxes that I pay for him. But that is beyond my control. Now, you might seem to think I'm a little judgemental with that, but that is what I believe my direction is.
OK, so beat me up now if you so choose. Present you case. Quote your scripture or give your rationale to support your views. And then we'll move on for more at another time from the Thought Dock
.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Loving Life
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During this past year or so, I've been labeled many times. Terms like, sad, mad, angry, evil, hateful, prejudiced, vengeful, opinionated, sadistic, foolish, egotistical, arrogant, and complainer, are often used to describe me. For the most part, these labels at any given moment, could accurately describe me; however, I am not evil, nor foolish.
I am proud to say that the labels I cherish most like honesty, integrity, ethical, moral, and pride, have never been challenged.
I am proud of what I am, where I came from, and where I'm going. I know my destiny. I love life because it is a gift for me. A blessing. And I am happy, although few seem to see it. My life has been easy and it continues to be. I have been truly blessed, and even when I had little time for God, He stood with me. He protected me from the evildoers, gave me health and wisdom, and led me in the direction to where I stand now.
That's not to say that my life was free of conflict or challenges, but every time God led me to find the avenue to overcome them. And there were times I struggled financially, and emotionally, but He was there too. And now, more than at any other time in my life, I know that.
Yes, I do get angry at times when I see how God's love is for granted by evil ones, and by those that do not know Him. And I get angry with people that prey upon others, and with those that refuse to contribute to society. And at those that don't respect the gift of life. Now, I don't hate these kinds, but rather limit my contact with them and have little patience for them. And I speak out against them. It's not about their color, faith, sex, or where they were born. It's not about bigotry, or supremacy. It's only because I will not accept them as they are. And some of you call that complaining. To speak out against these kinds, is to not tolerate what they are, and I will never never accept their immorality because that is precisely why we are where we are. I guess speaking out against abortion is called complaining to some. So, call it complaining if you feel better, but I love life. I'll do my part to make this a better place, when ever I can by complaining about, and never giving into that which is immoral.
.
And, God has led me to be me. And I will be me.
.
During this past year or so, I've been labeled many times. Terms like, sad, mad, angry, evil, hateful, prejudiced, vengeful, opinionated, sadistic, foolish, egotistical, arrogant, and complainer, are often used to describe me. For the most part, these labels at any given moment, could accurately describe me; however, I am not evil, nor foolish.
I am proud to say that the labels I cherish most like honesty, integrity, ethical, moral, and pride, have never been challenged.
I am proud of what I am, where I came from, and where I'm going. I know my destiny. I love life because it is a gift for me. A blessing. And I am happy, although few seem to see it. My life has been easy and it continues to be. I have been truly blessed, and even when I had little time for God, He stood with me. He protected me from the evildoers, gave me health and wisdom, and led me in the direction to where I stand now.
That's not to say that my life was free of conflict or challenges, but every time God led me to find the avenue to overcome them. And there were times I struggled financially, and emotionally, but He was there too. And now, more than at any other time in my life, I know that.
Yes, I do get angry at times when I see how God's love is for granted by evil ones, and by those that do not know Him. And I get angry with people that prey upon others, and with those that refuse to contribute to society. And at those that don't respect the gift of life. Now, I don't hate these kinds, but rather limit my contact with them and have little patience for them. And I speak out against them. It's not about their color, faith, sex, or where they were born. It's not about bigotry, or supremacy. It's only because I will not accept them as they are. And some of you call that complaining. To speak out against these kinds, is to not tolerate what they are, and I will never never accept their immorality because that is precisely why we are where we are. I guess speaking out against abortion is called complaining to some. So, call it complaining if you feel better, but I love life. I'll do my part to make this a better place, when ever I can by complaining about, and never giving into that which is immoral.
.
And, God has led me to be me. And I will be me.
.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Taking and Paying for Risk
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I'm sure that at one time or another, you have put a quarter into a slot machine only to lose it. And perhaps, a few of you might have won the bet once. That said, I know that you all will be able to understand this post.
Suppose that one of you convince me to give you a loan because you think I'm wealthy, and you promise to pay me back in time. I go along with it, and take your loan and stuff it into a slot machine, and you hit it big. With your winnings, you can't wait to pay me back as promised, but you keep the winnings. Should I expect anything more?
Now, suppose you lose all of the loan money to that slot machine. So, you inform me of your misfortune and expect me to forgive the loan because I am still wealthy, and you are broke. Should I expect that?
Sound familiar? Well, that is what is going on all around us today. In Those Days, people did everything that they could to repay their loan obligations, whether or not their loans led to fortunes or misfortunes. Not so any more.
Today, people still make fortunes by using loan money to invest, build a business, or buy a home. And they repay those loans when things go right for them. But when the loan money is lost, for what ever reason, they expect the loan to be forgiven forcing someone else to eat their loss.
Every day, more and more people are walking away from their loan obligations. It's contagious because they see others do it. They obtain a loan and buy a house or business, but when the market devalues, or the busines fails, they refuse to repay the loan, even though they are financially sound and can make their loan payments. Some even by a vehicle, drive it to hell and back, then refuse to pay the loan, leaving some one else to eat the loss. Makes financial sense, but it sure is unethical to say the least.
They expect the loans to be forgiven, and the government has absorbed much of their losses, because they think the government is wealthy. Well, the government only takes it from you and me.
Now, would they pay more than the loan amount if they profitted from the loan? I don't think so. I didn't. I re-invested the real estate profits I made from my loan into the Thought Dock. But that is because I pride myself with honesty and integrity.
.
I'm sure that at one time or another, you have put a quarter into a slot machine only to lose it. And perhaps, a few of you might have won the bet once. That said, I know that you all will be able to understand this post.
Suppose that one of you convince me to give you a loan because you think I'm wealthy, and you promise to pay me back in time. I go along with it, and take your loan and stuff it into a slot machine, and you hit it big. With your winnings, you can't wait to pay me back as promised, but you keep the winnings. Should I expect anything more?
Now, suppose you lose all of the loan money to that slot machine. So, you inform me of your misfortune and expect me to forgive the loan because I am still wealthy, and you are broke. Should I expect that?
Sound familiar? Well, that is what is going on all around us today. In Those Days, people did everything that they could to repay their loan obligations, whether or not their loans led to fortunes or misfortunes. Not so any more.
Today, people still make fortunes by using loan money to invest, build a business, or buy a home. And they repay those loans when things go right for them. But when the loan money is lost, for what ever reason, they expect the loan to be forgiven forcing someone else to eat their loss.
Every day, more and more people are walking away from their loan obligations. It's contagious because they see others do it. They obtain a loan and buy a house or business, but when the market devalues, or the busines fails, they refuse to repay the loan, even though they are financially sound and can make their loan payments. Some even by a vehicle, drive it to hell and back, then refuse to pay the loan, leaving some one else to eat the loss. Makes financial sense, but it sure is unethical to say the least.
They expect the loans to be forgiven, and the government has absorbed much of their losses, because they think the government is wealthy. Well, the government only takes it from you and me.
Now, would they pay more than the loan amount if they profitted from the loan? I don't think so. I didn't. I re-invested the real estate profits I made from my loan into the Thought Dock. But that is because I pride myself with honesty and integrity.
.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Now look at what you did
.
Ok, you forced me to do it. Twice now, I've written posts listing the rules of this blog, and encouraging everyone to be respectful. But, some of you just don't get it.
Therefore, I will be moderating all future comments. Now, that means that you can still make comments to the subject matter, but before it will be posted, I'll have to approve it.
And, if this miscoduct continues, I may elect not to accept anonymous comments at all, and might even make this site open by invitation only.
Blogs can be fun if nothing else, but some of you are making me work much too hard.
Tah..Tah..
Ok, you forced me to do it. Twice now, I've written posts listing the rules of this blog, and encouraging everyone to be respectful. But, some of you just don't get it.
Therefore, I will be moderating all future comments. Now, that means that you can still make comments to the subject matter, but before it will be posted, I'll have to approve it.
And, if this miscoduct continues, I may elect not to accept anonymous comments at all, and might even make this site open by invitation only.
Blogs can be fun if nothing else, but some of you are making me work much too hard.
Tah..Tah..
That Portal
.
In Those Days, I don't think I ever heard the term "Portal." The only time I remember anything like a portal was while watching sci-fi movies like Time Machine and Star Trek where they had black holes and transport machines to take you somewhere else. I guess those were portals, but they were never called that.
Now I understand better what a portal is and just how they work. I've also learned that at times, the use of a portal can be very, very, scary. Especially if you are not proficient in their use.
As an example, the Thought Dock is my portal to Knowledge and Wisdom. Now, I never really leave the Thought Dock like what the Time Machine did. It's more like a magical funnel that channels me with information from all over the "Out There."
Now, as the Doctor of Thought and Wisdom (DTW), I sort through all the information from out there, interpret it accordingly. Then, I filter out the crap, and pass along the most important stuff, which is Wisdom. So, in a sense, this blog is your portal to becoming wise. Respect it and it will serve you well.
It's not easy being the DTW, because Followers can't always appreciate, or even understand what I have come to be. Not all Wisdom pleases everyone. Some get offended, or can't believe the Wisdom I pass on, and take it out on me. I forgive them as they don't understand the labor intensive job it is to sort through everything out there, select the important stuff, and put the proper spin on it before passing it on to them as Wisdom.
Now, others are all ready "In Tune" at the time they first visit the Thought Dock. Still others become in tune after frequent visits, while others will never get it.
But that's OK. The blog is for everyone. I can only do my best. I'm just the messenger. But it must be very frustrating for those that lack the tuning. They turn their back to Wisdom, shout threats, and protest the Wisdom of the Thought Dock, for they do not understand.
,
In Those Days, I don't think I ever heard the term "Portal." The only time I remember anything like a portal was while watching sci-fi movies like Time Machine and Star Trek where they had black holes and transport machines to take you somewhere else. I guess those were portals, but they were never called that.
Now I understand better what a portal is and just how they work. I've also learned that at times, the use of a portal can be very, very, scary. Especially if you are not proficient in their use.
As an example, the Thought Dock is my portal to Knowledge and Wisdom. Now, I never really leave the Thought Dock like what the Time Machine did. It's more like a magical funnel that channels me with information from all over the "Out There."
Now, as the Doctor of Thought and Wisdom (DTW), I sort through all the information from out there, interpret it accordingly. Then, I filter out the crap, and pass along the most important stuff, which is Wisdom. So, in a sense, this blog is your portal to becoming wise. Respect it and it will serve you well.
It's not easy being the DTW, because Followers can't always appreciate, or even understand what I have come to be. Not all Wisdom pleases everyone. Some get offended, or can't believe the Wisdom I pass on, and take it out on me. I forgive them as they don't understand the labor intensive job it is to sort through everything out there, select the important stuff, and put the proper spin on it before passing it on to them as Wisdom.
Now, others are all ready "In Tune" at the time they first visit the Thought Dock. Still others become in tune after frequent visits, while others will never get it.
But that's OK. The blog is for everyone. I can only do my best. I'm just the messenger. But it must be very frustrating for those that lack the tuning. They turn their back to Wisdom, shout threats, and protest the Wisdom of the Thought Dock, for they do not understand.
,
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The Long Legged Mac Daddy
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An avid Follower, in tune with the Thoughts from the Dock, provided me with this most interesting piece. It speaks for itself.
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http://nalert.blogspot.com/2009/07/white-folks-will-riot-pastor-manning.html
.
.
An avid Follower, in tune with the Thoughts from the Dock, provided me with this most interesting piece. It speaks for itself.
.
http://nalert.blogspot.com/2009/07/white-folks-will-riot-pastor-manning.html
.
.
The Collector
.
In Those Days, things seemed simpler. Nothing was green. By that I mean there were no efforts to conserve raw materials and natural resources. One could waste and pollute most anything at will. Water was all but free, and gasoline was really cheap. No smog devices or recycling rules. Pour your used antifreeze down the gutter and the motor oil on a dirt road to keep the dust down. Just a two cent per bottle deposit on soda bottles so that someone could refill them if they were returned.
I liked Those Days, but I like the conservative days of today better. It's just the rules about recycling that bug me, and the recycle collector himself, and in particular the one I had when I lived in Los Angeles.
I remember the days when the collector had to work. I mean real work, lifting those barrels by hand and spilling the slop into the back of a truck. I respected them and did everything I could to ease their pain. But today, they are different. In LA, the collection trucks are huge, triple rear axles, and automated lifting arms with monitors to see what is going into the truck, all from the air conditioned cab. Now, I'm sure that these guys get at least 8 hours of training at Wally's Truck Driving School, and they call themselves professional drivers. I suppose they are and they are well paid. In fact, they make about the same (more with O/T) as cops, nurses and teachers, even though those professions have a lot more responsibility and untold hours of training.
I loved to watch those huge trucks make their pick ups, and I did so when ever I could. With just the touch of a joystick, an arm would extend between the parked cars, grab the container, lift it high and slam it into the truck in less that 10 seconds. Amazing. In LA, we had 3 large containers. A black one for garbage, a blue one for paper and glass, and a green one for yard debris. Everything had to be properly separated and had to be within the weight limit for the can.
So one day, I was watching the collector. He grabbed the black can, but set it back at the curb. I approached him as he was driving off and he yelled back that it was overweight. Now, what is one supposed to do? I took out about 200 pounds of broken concrete from the slop can, and hoped that he would take the rest, plus the new stuff the next week.
Now, I still had the broken concrete the following week and couldn't put it out because it would make the black can overweight again. Well the black can man came and took his load as I watched. Moments later, the blue can man came, but when he dumped it, shredded bits of paper flew out all over my lawn like confetti. Now, usually it's just a few pieces of newsprint that flies out (which he never stops to pick up) and I got used to that crap. But how was I supposed to pick up thousands of the tiny bits? I stopped the blue can man and he said shredded paper should be put in the slop can. But the blue one said it was for paper and shredded paper is still paper. And how would putting shredded paper in the slop can prevent it from flying out when dumped? I was confused and fed up with the collector's service.
So the following week, I put the 200 pounds of broken concrete in the blue can, knowing that paper was light and it would not be over weight. Now, I knew that it would wreak havoc on the machine that sorts the paper, but that was my way of getting even with the collection idiots. And I thought the blue can guy would never know because the paper all ready inside the truck would cushion the impact of the concrete landing inside.
Wrong... While I stood there watching, the blue can collector arrived and I watched as he made the pick up. Boom!!! Apparently the truck was pretty empty and when the heavy concrete landed, it shook the whole truck. And when he saw the concrete through his monitor, he jumped out of his truck and approached me. We spoke briefly before he realized that he was about be be socked in the nose, and left in a hurry, with the concrete in his load.
I won. I never had another problem with the LA collectors (partly because I left that City). And I did it all without the power of the Thought Dock.
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In Those Days, things seemed simpler. Nothing was green. By that I mean there were no efforts to conserve raw materials and natural resources. One could waste and pollute most anything at will. Water was all but free, and gasoline was really cheap. No smog devices or recycling rules. Pour your used antifreeze down the gutter and the motor oil on a dirt road to keep the dust down. Just a two cent per bottle deposit on soda bottles so that someone could refill them if they were returned.
I liked Those Days, but I like the conservative days of today better. It's just the rules about recycling that bug me, and the recycle collector himself, and in particular the one I had when I lived in Los Angeles.
I remember the days when the collector had to work. I mean real work, lifting those barrels by hand and spilling the slop into the back of a truck. I respected them and did everything I could to ease their pain. But today, they are different. In LA, the collection trucks are huge, triple rear axles, and automated lifting arms with monitors to see what is going into the truck, all from the air conditioned cab. Now, I'm sure that these guys get at least 8 hours of training at Wally's Truck Driving School, and they call themselves professional drivers. I suppose they are and they are well paid. In fact, they make about the same (more with O/T) as cops, nurses and teachers, even though those professions have a lot more responsibility and untold hours of training.
I loved to watch those huge trucks make their pick ups, and I did so when ever I could. With just the touch of a joystick, an arm would extend between the parked cars, grab the container, lift it high and slam it into the truck in less that 10 seconds. Amazing. In LA, we had 3 large containers. A black one for garbage, a blue one for paper and glass, and a green one for yard debris. Everything had to be properly separated and had to be within the weight limit for the can.
So one day, I was watching the collector. He grabbed the black can, but set it back at the curb. I approached him as he was driving off and he yelled back that it was overweight. Now, what is one supposed to do? I took out about 200 pounds of broken concrete from the slop can, and hoped that he would take the rest, plus the new stuff the next week.
Now, I still had the broken concrete the following week and couldn't put it out because it would make the black can overweight again. Well the black can man came and took his load as I watched. Moments later, the blue can man came, but when he dumped it, shredded bits of paper flew out all over my lawn like confetti. Now, usually it's just a few pieces of newsprint that flies out (which he never stops to pick up) and I got used to that crap. But how was I supposed to pick up thousands of the tiny bits? I stopped the blue can man and he said shredded paper should be put in the slop can. But the blue one said it was for paper and shredded paper is still paper. And how would putting shredded paper in the slop can prevent it from flying out when dumped? I was confused and fed up with the collector's service.
So the following week, I put the 200 pounds of broken concrete in the blue can, knowing that paper was light and it would not be over weight. Now, I knew that it would wreak havoc on the machine that sorts the paper, but that was my way of getting even with the collection idiots. And I thought the blue can guy would never know because the paper all ready inside the truck would cushion the impact of the concrete landing inside.
Wrong... While I stood there watching, the blue can collector arrived and I watched as he made the pick up. Boom!!! Apparently the truck was pretty empty and when the heavy concrete landed, it shook the whole truck. And when he saw the concrete through his monitor, he jumped out of his truck and approached me. We spoke briefly before he realized that he was about be be socked in the nose, and left in a hurry, with the concrete in his load.
I won. I never had another problem with the LA collectors (partly because I left that City). And I did it all without the power of the Thought Dock.
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Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Poll Analysis
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The results of the poll are in. Lawyers and Car Sales Persons each received 2 votes, while Myself and Doctors received none.
So, here is my analysis. The results were not surprising to me. Since some Car Sales Persons become Politicians, and most Politicians are Lawyers, it stands to my reason why the vote for least trusted persons were split equally between Lawyers and Car Sales Persons.
And since it has not yet been fully released that a Doctor played a major role in killing Michael Jackson, it stands to reason that you elevate trust for Me to the same plane as that of a Doctor. After all, I am a Doctor of Thought and Wisdom (DTW).
I apologize for my programming error for the poll which prevented multiple Followers from casting a vote from the same computer. But thank you all for your contribution to the poll.
The results of the poll are in. Lawyers and Car Sales Persons each received 2 votes, while Myself and Doctors received none.
So, here is my analysis. The results were not surprising to me. Since some Car Sales Persons become Politicians, and most Politicians are Lawyers, it stands to my reason why the vote for least trusted persons were split equally between Lawyers and Car Sales Persons.
And since it has not yet been fully released that a Doctor played a major role in killing Michael Jackson, it stands to reason that you elevate trust for Me to the same plane as that of a Doctor. After all, I am a Doctor of Thought and Wisdom (DTW).
I apologize for my programming error for the poll which prevented multiple Followers from casting a vote from the same computer. But thank you all for your contribution to the poll.
The Audience
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When I started this blog, it was mostly as a means for me to write. I found writing was a way for me to discover me. To try and find out who I was, how I came to be me, and to find another direction for me. But that stuff was boring to most readers, so the blog transitioned into the Thought Dock after I found my new direction.
So, as the Thought Dock matured, so did it's audience. Now I've spoke to some of you personally about my audience, which I call my readers. And those that I've discussed the subject with, are as amazed as I. Some others have challenged me by commenting about when I mention how many, and how large my audience is.
Just to let you know, I know that some Followers, and I surmise some readers, refer my blog to others they believe might be interested in it's content. Other reader apparently spend a lot of time just "surfing" the Internet and happen to stumble across my blog. Still others, use search engines and specific "key words" to find a link here. Some just move on, but others seem to come back, thirsting for more Thoughts from the Dock.
For example, the day that I spoke about Peter, Paul, and Mary, I received several hundred more visits than the daily average, and many were outside the USA. Apparently lots of people were using those key words in their search engines. Visit Condrom.com to see how blog search engines work.
Don't believe it? Well, I'll tell you... That counter thing near the top of my front page that you've noticed grows by the moment, does more than what you might think. It gathers information about the people that visit this blog. General information like, where they are located, when they visited, how they found the site, and how many times they return. Included usually is the Country, State, City, Date, and Time, about where their computer is located.
Don't let this scare you off though. I just mentioned it to you because admittedly, I am amazed. I can see that readers from around the world have visited. From the middle east region, Russia, Spain, Netherlands, Canada, and all over the United States.. I mean...all over..
Now sometimes there is enough information for me to assume who they are. As an example, hits from a computer belonging to the City of Tehachapi leads me to know who it is. On the other hand, there are really active readers, like the one in Vancouver, that visit many times, often every day, that I don't have a clue as to who they are.
So, it is very true that I do attract a world-wide audience. I mention this only to demonstrate the power of the Thought Dock, driven with the power of the Internet. And your comments, like my postings, also draw the same attention. Thanks for being a part of things.
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When I started this blog, it was mostly as a means for me to write. I found writing was a way for me to discover me. To try and find out who I was, how I came to be me, and to find another direction for me. But that stuff was boring to most readers, so the blog transitioned into the Thought Dock after I found my new direction.
So, as the Thought Dock matured, so did it's audience. Now I've spoke to some of you personally about my audience, which I call my readers. And those that I've discussed the subject with, are as amazed as I. Some others have challenged me by commenting about when I mention how many, and how large my audience is.
Just to let you know, I know that some Followers, and I surmise some readers, refer my blog to others they believe might be interested in it's content. Other reader apparently spend a lot of time just "surfing" the Internet and happen to stumble across my blog. Still others, use search engines and specific "key words" to find a link here. Some just move on, but others seem to come back, thirsting for more Thoughts from the Dock.
For example, the day that I spoke about Peter, Paul, and Mary, I received several hundred more visits than the daily average, and many were outside the USA. Apparently lots of people were using those key words in their search engines. Visit Condrom.com to see how blog search engines work.
Don't believe it? Well, I'll tell you... That counter thing near the top of my front page that you've noticed grows by the moment, does more than what you might think. It gathers information about the people that visit this blog. General information like, where they are located, when they visited, how they found the site, and how many times they return. Included usually is the Country, State, City, Date, and Time, about where their computer is located.
Don't let this scare you off though. I just mentioned it to you because admittedly, I am amazed. I can see that readers from around the world have visited. From the middle east region, Russia, Spain, Netherlands, Canada, and all over the United States.. I mean...all over..
Now sometimes there is enough information for me to assume who they are. As an example, hits from a computer belonging to the City of Tehachapi leads me to know who it is. On the other hand, there are really active readers, like the one in Vancouver, that visit many times, often every day, that I don't have a clue as to who they are.
So, it is very true that I do attract a world-wide audience. I mention this only to demonstrate the power of the Thought Dock, driven with the power of the Internet. And your comments, like my postings, also draw the same attention. Thanks for being a part of things.
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Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Professionals and Experts
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In Those Days, I always thought that a professional was one that obtains his expertise by spending an extraordinary amount of time getting a formal education in a specific field. People like scientists, doctors, lawyers, bankers, morticians, professors, and clergy, were called professionals.
And then there were experts. These were people who developed a particular knowledge of a subject though personal experience, training, and lower level education such as trade schools. People like artists, plumbers, cement workers, janitors, auto mechanics, police officers, gardeners, and the like.
Now Days, it seems everyone calls himself a professional. And it seems a professional is now defined as anyone who gets paid for his skill or expertise. In addition to the skills previously mentioned, atheletes, entertainers, journelists, gamblers, fishermen, photographers, thieves, janitors, and writers, all call themselves professionals (send me your check so I call call myself a professor of wisdom).
I once trusted any professional. I never questioned my doctor, an attorney or banker's advice, and clergymen were the best. But now, it seems many professionals are driven by their greed for power and riches. And now, I really trust a very few of those calling themselves professionals. Attorneys are at the top of my list. If you've every testified in court, or even watched a trial on TV, you know what I mean. Bankers and financial professionals come in a close second because they truly don't care about you, just your assets, and will do anything to get a piece of them. Doctors are a distant 3rd, but are rising as I see them writing precriptions for heavy drugs whenever the see fit. Some are killing more people than they save. A prescription for marijuana to treat allergies? And although the clergy have not yet made mylist of untrusted professionals, some are testing me.
So, what's the point here? The point is that this place is one toke over the line when examined through the Thought Dock.
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In Those Days, I always thought that a professional was one that obtains his expertise by spending an extraordinary amount of time getting a formal education in a specific field. People like scientists, doctors, lawyers, bankers, morticians, professors, and clergy, were called professionals.
And then there were experts. These were people who developed a particular knowledge of a subject though personal experience, training, and lower level education such as trade schools. People like artists, plumbers, cement workers, janitors, auto mechanics, police officers, gardeners, and the like.
Now Days, it seems everyone calls himself a professional. And it seems a professional is now defined as anyone who gets paid for his skill or expertise. In addition to the skills previously mentioned, atheletes, entertainers, journelists, gamblers, fishermen, photographers, thieves, janitors, and writers, all call themselves professionals (send me your check so I call call myself a professor of wisdom).
I once trusted any professional. I never questioned my doctor, an attorney or banker's advice, and clergymen were the best. But now, it seems many professionals are driven by their greed for power and riches. And now, I really trust a very few of those calling themselves professionals. Attorneys are at the top of my list. If you've every testified in court, or even watched a trial on TV, you know what I mean. Bankers and financial professionals come in a close second because they truly don't care about you, just your assets, and will do anything to get a piece of them. Doctors are a distant 3rd, but are rising as I see them writing precriptions for heavy drugs whenever the see fit. Some are killing more people than they save. A prescription for marijuana to treat allergies? And although the clergy have not yet made mylist of untrusted professionals, some are testing me.
So, what's the point here? The point is that this place is one toke over the line when examined through the Thought Dock.
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Monday, July 20, 2009
America the Asylum
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America was founded on the promise of freedom to those wanting to escape religious and government persecution. An asylum so to speak.
It is now well past the time to ask "Why?" Why is it that the we have allowed the inmates to control this asylum?
The inmates I speak of are most of our elected representatives. Most were likely very good people, but at some point in their lives, their greed turned to corruption. They no longer care to follow the will of the people, but follow a path that protects their own self interests.
Other people I call inmates are the ones that prey on innocents. The criminals, the liars, the cheats, and the ones that support their unethical and immoral behavior and force us to accept it. The ones that point their finger and call people like me names. The ones that hate truth.
There comes a time in life when one must examine one's self. Are you one of these inmates that control this asylum? Do you contribute to this great country, or are you a burden and are set out to destroy it through your selfish ways? Or are you one that simply turns their head to not see what is happening. How many times must one turn away before he begins to see?
If this makes no sense to you, I must question whether you are on crack. Listen people, to what I say. It comes directly from the Thought Dock.
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America was founded on the promise of freedom to those wanting to escape religious and government persecution. An asylum so to speak.
It is now well past the time to ask "Why?" Why is it that the we have allowed the inmates to control this asylum?
The inmates I speak of are most of our elected representatives. Most were likely very good people, but at some point in their lives, their greed turned to corruption. They no longer care to follow the will of the people, but follow a path that protects their own self interests.
Other people I call inmates are the ones that prey on innocents. The criminals, the liars, the cheats, and the ones that support their unethical and immoral behavior and force us to accept it. The ones that point their finger and call people like me names. The ones that hate truth.
There comes a time in life when one must examine one's self. Are you one of these inmates that control this asylum? Do you contribute to this great country, or are you a burden and are set out to destroy it through your selfish ways? Or are you one that simply turns their head to not see what is happening. How many times must one turn away before he begins to see?
If this makes no sense to you, I must question whether you are on crack. Listen people, to what I say. It comes directly from the Thought Dock.
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Sunday, July 19, 2009
Dead or Alive
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In Those Days, it was widely accepted that one that was not breathing, was dead. Then through medical advances, resuscitating someone that had recently stopped breathing became almost routine. So, then it became accepted that death occurs when the heart ceases to circulate blood rhythmically (a pulse). But today, we can restart the heart to a rhythm providing the brain still has activity. We have become so good at restoring breathing and pulse, that we purposely stop theses organs for surgery, then restart them afterward.
So today, the medical profession widely agrees that one is dead when they no longer have brain activity because without a living brain, a heart can not beat, and the lungs can not function without outside mechanical means. And that is how most states now define when death occurs for criminal cases, except Oregon. In Oregon, one can not be alive unless he has taken his first breath. Therefore, one can not die without ever having breathed. Can you make sense of that?
Now here is my point. If there is death when there is no sign of brain activity, then the reverse must also be true; there is life when there is brain activity present.
It has been published in the American Medical Journal, that brain activity is detectable within five days of conception, and a heart beat begins just a few days later. How then can abortion at any time after the fifth day following conception, be legal? The intentional taking of a human life is murder as defined by the laws of every state in this country, even Oregon. It's just that Oregon doesn't recognize life until after the birth, and until the first breath is taken.
All this trimester stuff, and other conditions leading to conception, that the courts have written into law, is baloney and nothing but baloney.
And now, Obaloney wants to open up things even more. He wants to create life only to take life for even more medical research. Life is just not another slice of baloney.
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In Those Days, it was widely accepted that one that was not breathing, was dead. Then through medical advances, resuscitating someone that had recently stopped breathing became almost routine. So, then it became accepted that death occurs when the heart ceases to circulate blood rhythmically (a pulse). But today, we can restart the heart to a rhythm providing the brain still has activity. We have become so good at restoring breathing and pulse, that we purposely stop theses organs for surgery, then restart them afterward.
So today, the medical profession widely agrees that one is dead when they no longer have brain activity because without a living brain, a heart can not beat, and the lungs can not function without outside mechanical means. And that is how most states now define when death occurs for criminal cases, except Oregon. In Oregon, one can not be alive unless he has taken his first breath. Therefore, one can not die without ever having breathed. Can you make sense of that?
Now here is my point. If there is death when there is no sign of brain activity, then the reverse must also be true; there is life when there is brain activity present.
It has been published in the American Medical Journal, that brain activity is detectable within five days of conception, and a heart beat begins just a few days later. How then can abortion at any time after the fifth day following conception, be legal? The intentional taking of a human life is murder as defined by the laws of every state in this country, even Oregon. It's just that Oregon doesn't recognize life until after the birth, and until the first breath is taken.
All this trimester stuff, and other conditions leading to conception, that the courts have written into law, is baloney and nothing but baloney.
And now, Obaloney wants to open up things even more. He wants to create life only to take life for even more medical research. Life is just not another slice of baloney.
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Saturday, July 18, 2009
Who killed Michael Jackson?
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Well, I've lost my ties with the homicide investigators since retirement, so in order to answer the question of who killed Michael, I have to rely on what's been reported as fact by Fox News, and combine that with the wisdom I receive from the Thought Dock.
Did you see the pictures of Michael's lower legs, feet and ankles apparently taken at a time well before his death? They leave no doubt of his heavy addition to street narcotics, and as reported by the coroner, he also used huge doses of prescription grade pain killers normally used in surgery and to suppress the pain associated with the final stages of fatal diseases like various types of cancer.
So that leaves little doubt that he killed himself. But his fans, and that might be YOU, actually caused him to kill himself. Murderers...
Through out recorded history, there have been many, many instances such as Michael's. Men and women, whether kings, queens, politicians, entertainers, philosophers, and heroes, adored by their fans, and raised above the level of normalcy, have offed themselves either accidentally or intentional, because they can't deal with fame and fortune.
And that was Michael. Like Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, and Julius Cesar, Michael could not handle his rise to glory. His fans put him above man, convincing him that was so. He walked without God, and probably believed he was a god, only because his fans allowed him to believe it.
Actually, in his early days, I respected Michael as an entertainer, but he was nothing more than that to me. As he climbed higher with his fame, believed more in himself and his power given to him by his fans. He believed he could change the color of the skin that God gave him. He created a new walk that only he could do, just to prove that he was unlike any other man. He placed himself above the law by molesting children and dangling his own child over a balcony high above his admirers below. He believed he was invincible because his fans gave him that power. And he walked without God.
So, if you bought his records, watched his videos, attended his concerts, and tolerated his misbehavior, then you killed him (I think I helped a little too). Michael was a talented, but despicable, performer, and I will neither miss nor mourn him. He, like the rest before him should burn for eternity in Hell.
Now, I wonder; will Obummer will be able to handle his rise to fame as the self proclaimed Messiah, or will have as others have in the past?
.
Well, I've lost my ties with the homicide investigators since retirement, so in order to answer the question of who killed Michael, I have to rely on what's been reported as fact by Fox News, and combine that with the wisdom I receive from the Thought Dock.
Did you see the pictures of Michael's lower legs, feet and ankles apparently taken at a time well before his death? They leave no doubt of his heavy addition to street narcotics, and as reported by the coroner, he also used huge doses of prescription grade pain killers normally used in surgery and to suppress the pain associated with the final stages of fatal diseases like various types of cancer.
So that leaves little doubt that he killed himself. But his fans, and that might be YOU, actually caused him to kill himself. Murderers...
Through out recorded history, there have been many, many instances such as Michael's. Men and women, whether kings, queens, politicians, entertainers, philosophers, and heroes, adored by their fans, and raised above the level of normalcy, have offed themselves either accidentally or intentional, because they can't deal with fame and fortune.
And that was Michael. Like Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, and Julius Cesar, Michael could not handle his rise to glory. His fans put him above man, convincing him that was so. He walked without God, and probably believed he was a god, only because his fans allowed him to believe it.
Actually, in his early days, I respected Michael as an entertainer, but he was nothing more than that to me. As he climbed higher with his fame, believed more in himself and his power given to him by his fans. He believed he could change the color of the skin that God gave him. He created a new walk that only he could do, just to prove that he was unlike any other man. He placed himself above the law by molesting children and dangling his own child over a balcony high above his admirers below. He believed he was invincible because his fans gave him that power. And he walked without God.
So, if you bought his records, watched his videos, attended his concerts, and tolerated his misbehavior, then you killed him (I think I helped a little too). Michael was a talented, but despicable, performer, and I will neither miss nor mourn him. He, like the rest before him should burn for eternity in Hell.
Now, I wonder; will Obummer will be able to handle his rise to fame as the self proclaimed Messiah, or will have as others have in the past?
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Thursday, July 16, 2009
Take an Asparin and get some Bed Rest
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While gathered around the campout fire this past week, I realized that Elma was a Canadian citizen who spent much of her adult life working in Oregon. She has since retired and is considering returning to her homeland.
Well, one of the things dissuading her return was health care. If you don't know, Canada has a government provided, and government run heath care system. And there are no doctors that work outside that system, meaning that you can not even pay your own money to see a doctor of your choice in Canada.
Elma said that there is a predetermined Average Life Expectancy (ALE) for health people in Canada, which fluctuates every year. When a medical procedure is recommended by a doctor, the government then calculates the number of years that remain before you reach the ALE, against the cost of the medical procedure. Since there is only a set amount of money available for medical care in the government's hopper, only those having the greatest longevity left before reaching the ALE age get to have the treatment. To make things even worse, if you are all ready in poor health, or if you are over the ALE age, there is little chance on receiving any costly procedure.
So, to put things in perspective, if the ALE is set at 70, and you have a pre-existing issue like diabetes, you're not likely to get a liver transplant regardless of your age. Or if you are diagnosed with prostrate cancer when you are 65 years old, you are not likely to get treatment. And if you are 72 years old when you fall and break your hip, you'll likely die soon thereafter. Just take some aspirin and get some bed rest. Only the young and healthy get the vast majority of medical services. Or those Canadians that can afford it, seek medical treatment in America.
Now, that's what Obummer wants for us. And although he first said that those that have private insurance, and are happy with it, can keep it, he more recently admitted that it would be likely that private insurance plans would be forced into bankruptcy within a few years, forcing us to join his plan.
Do you think Elma will return? A very, very, scary time at the Thought Dock.
.
While gathered around the campout fire this past week, I realized that Elma was a Canadian citizen who spent much of her adult life working in Oregon. She has since retired and is considering returning to her homeland.
Well, one of the things dissuading her return was health care. If you don't know, Canada has a government provided, and government run heath care system. And there are no doctors that work outside that system, meaning that you can not even pay your own money to see a doctor of your choice in Canada.
Elma said that there is a predetermined Average Life Expectancy (ALE) for health people in Canada, which fluctuates every year. When a medical procedure is recommended by a doctor, the government then calculates the number of years that remain before you reach the ALE, against the cost of the medical procedure. Since there is only a set amount of money available for medical care in the government's hopper, only those having the greatest longevity left before reaching the ALE age get to have the treatment. To make things even worse, if you are all ready in poor health, or if you are over the ALE age, there is little chance on receiving any costly procedure.
So, to put things in perspective, if the ALE is set at 70, and you have a pre-existing issue like diabetes, you're not likely to get a liver transplant regardless of your age. Or if you are diagnosed with prostrate cancer when you are 65 years old, you are not likely to get treatment. And if you are 72 years old when you fall and break your hip, you'll likely die soon thereafter. Just take some aspirin and get some bed rest. Only the young and healthy get the vast majority of medical services. Or those Canadians that can afford it, seek medical treatment in America.
Now, that's what Obummer wants for us. And although he first said that those that have private insurance, and are happy with it, can keep it, he more recently admitted that it would be likely that private insurance plans would be forced into bankruptcy within a few years, forcing us to join his plan.
Do you think Elma will return? A very, very, scary time at the Thought Dock.
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Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Founded in 2008
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Well, it has been a year and a month since I began this blog. If you've read the "About Me" section on the left column, you would know that I created this blog for me, to be me, and to reflect back and learn how I came to be me. And for the first few months, that was only what was discussed.
From those early days of the blog, I have learned a lot about me, partly by sharing my background, and in part from your comments. It was fun and it was good, but it got boring, and I realized that there was more to blogging. And from that, the Thought Dock emerged.
I've mentioned before, that I receive my inspiration and wisdom from the Thought Dock, and my goal is to share it with you. I publish my thoughts and opinions to generate further thoughts and discussions with you. And, I try to do that in a respectful way.
Now, I know that some of the statements offered from the Thought Dock is offensive to some of the readers of this blog. But, that is OK, because it is my blog. However, my statements are intentionally seldom directed at any specific reader, but that seems to not be true with some of the comments left by some of my readers. And THAT is the point of this.
Contrary to what you might think, this blog has a world-wide audience, which I call readers. And it is my goal to expand that readership even further by promoting discussion on subjects that I get versed on by the Thought Dock. Now a certain portion of the readers of this blog, I call Followers, because they return to this blog very often seeking my wisdom.
Here's my point. As I've said before, I am the only Author of this blog, so I am the only person that can present the subject matter in the posting. You are a reader, or in some cases, a Follower. You can only add a comment to the post, and I have the ability to moderate (that means allow or disallow) your comment. Now, to date, I have never prevented a comment from being made. But, that might change.
So, here are some new rules regarding comments. Feel free to express yourself, even if in rebuttal to my view, or that of a commenter. Do to the vast amount of predators on the Internet, make your comments in general. Do not use last names or other specific information that a predator might enjoy. I welcome general comments, but I'll moderate any offensive comment directed specifically at either me, or a commenter. No name calling directed specifically at me or any other reader; however, you may use general labels like liberal, puke, or wetback. If you have something personally offensive for me or a reader, I suggest you use an e-mail, telephone, or a visit to the Thought Dock. But be prepared and in tune when you come.
I hate to be the meanie, but it is a matter of self preservation. As some of you have experienced personally, remarks and actions seem to come back and haunt you later in life. And since my ultimate goal in retirement is to host a syndicated, global, talk show promoting the wisdom of the Thought Dock, I must be able to insure order now.
I know you must be shocked learning about my ambitions, but it is easily within my grasp. Nothing will stop my pursuit. I am powered by the Thought Dock.
.
Well, it has been a year and a month since I began this blog. If you've read the "About Me" section on the left column, you would know that I created this blog for me, to be me, and to reflect back and learn how I came to be me. And for the first few months, that was only what was discussed.
From those early days of the blog, I have learned a lot about me, partly by sharing my background, and in part from your comments. It was fun and it was good, but it got boring, and I realized that there was more to blogging. And from that, the Thought Dock emerged.
I've mentioned before, that I receive my inspiration and wisdom from the Thought Dock, and my goal is to share it with you. I publish my thoughts and opinions to generate further thoughts and discussions with you. And, I try to do that in a respectful way.
Now, I know that some of the statements offered from the Thought Dock is offensive to some of the readers of this blog. But, that is OK, because it is my blog. However, my statements are intentionally seldom directed at any specific reader, but that seems to not be true with some of the comments left by some of my readers. And THAT is the point of this.
Contrary to what you might think, this blog has a world-wide audience, which I call readers. And it is my goal to expand that readership even further by promoting discussion on subjects that I get versed on by the Thought Dock. Now a certain portion of the readers of this blog, I call Followers, because they return to this blog very often seeking my wisdom.
Here's my point. As I've said before, I am the only Author of this blog, so I am the only person that can present the subject matter in the posting. You are a reader, or in some cases, a Follower. You can only add a comment to the post, and I have the ability to moderate (that means allow or disallow) your comment. Now, to date, I have never prevented a comment from being made. But, that might change.
So, here are some new rules regarding comments. Feel free to express yourself, even if in rebuttal to my view, or that of a commenter. Do to the vast amount of predators on the Internet, make your comments in general. Do not use last names or other specific information that a predator might enjoy. I welcome general comments, but I'll moderate any offensive comment directed specifically at either me, or a commenter. No name calling directed specifically at me or any other reader; however, you may use general labels like liberal, puke, or wetback. If you have something personally offensive for me or a reader, I suggest you use an e-mail, telephone, or a visit to the Thought Dock. But be prepared and in tune when you come.
I hate to be the meanie, but it is a matter of self preservation. As some of you have experienced personally, remarks and actions seem to come back and haunt you later in life. And since my ultimate goal in retirement is to host a syndicated, global, talk show promoting the wisdom of the Thought Dock, I must be able to insure order now.
I know you must be shocked learning about my ambitions, but it is easily within my grasp. Nothing will stop my pursuit. I am powered by the Thought Dock.
.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
He Slipped
.
You might ask, "Who slipped?" America's President slipped.
You might ask, "On a banana?" No, in the polls. Barack Obama's popularity has slipped.
You might then ask, "Why is that?" Because people are beginning to check themselves. They are inflating their tires, and tuning their engines, so to say. The wisdom of the Thought Dock is reaching out all over this land, just like PP&M's hammer song did.
People are beginning to see that his pledge to lower taxes, really meant creating new taxes for most of us. And that taxing the coal fired electric plants for a greener world actually meant the increased taxes will only be passed on to us in increased utility prices. And the People realize now that he supports amnesty for everyone; no questions asked. And they watch as he shakes hands and makes promises with America's greatest enemy, Russia. And the People see him make pledges to help the African countries, where his father was raised, emerge from corruption and into "First World" nations. And the people watch as his appointed Attorney General Holden promises to send our CIA guys to trial for torturing those innocent terrorists.
And the list goes on; and the People are beginning to see. And the People will someday blackball him. Oops! Poor choice of words, I see. Perhaps I should have said soccer-ball him. Isn't it a mix of both black and white colors? That would have been a more appropriate use of words, I guess.
I know that was some harsh things to hear. Especially after only getting the no stress stories about S'Mores and camp out fires. So, I'll save the rest for another time. Keep in tune while I'm at the Thought Dock.
PS.. This just came in from one of my most in-tune and avid Followers.
You might ask, "Who slipped?" America's President slipped.
You might ask, "On a banana?" No, in the polls. Barack Obama's popularity has slipped.
You might then ask, "Why is that?" Because people are beginning to check themselves. They are inflating their tires, and tuning their engines, so to say. The wisdom of the Thought Dock is reaching out all over this land, just like PP&M's hammer song did.
People are beginning to see that his pledge to lower taxes, really meant creating new taxes for most of us. And that taxing the coal fired electric plants for a greener world actually meant the increased taxes will only be passed on to us in increased utility prices. And the People realize now that he supports amnesty for everyone; no questions asked. And they watch as he shakes hands and makes promises with America's greatest enemy, Russia. And the People see him make pledges to help the African countries, where his father was raised, emerge from corruption and into "First World" nations. And the people watch as his appointed Attorney General Holden promises to send our CIA guys to trial for torturing those innocent terrorists.
And the list goes on; and the People are beginning to see. And the People will someday blackball him. Oops! Poor choice of words, I see. Perhaps I should have said soccer-ball him. Isn't it a mix of both black and white colors? That would have been a more appropriate use of words, I guess.
I know that was some harsh things to hear. Especially after only getting the no stress stories about S'Mores and camp out fires. So, I'll save the rest for another time. Keep in tune while I'm at the Thought Dock.
PS.. This just came in from one of my most in-tune and avid Followers.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Ok, I'll admit it
.
This might be news to most of you, but I'll admit I'm not perfect, and I don't know everything as some of you have pointed out.
I know it's hard to believe, but I did buy Cinamon Graham Crackers to make S'Mores for my grand children. And I did wash off the awning of my Wheeled Manor right in my camp out site. And, I didn't wear my seatbelt while driving in the park, and I burped and farted at least once without excusing myself afterwards. Feel better now?
So, when I unfurled the awning of the Wheeled Manor, I noticed some dirt and signs of mold on the canvass. Using a concoction of dish soap and bleach, I began cleaning it with a long handled brush and a water hose when another camp outer walked by.
The guy informed me that washing the Manor in the camp out site was improper because the suds from my concoction would leach into the soil and endanger the ecology. I gave him the "eye roll," and wished him a very nice day. He scampered off, toward the Ranger's office, where I thouht he would tell on me.
Oregon seems to be full of these pukes. Dressed in their 18-pocket shorts, and a 35 pocket vests, a canvass hat, and sandals much like Moses wore, with binoculars hanging around their necks, they wander around looking to tell on others who don't use the world as the see fit. They camp out in tents strapped to the roof of their Prius, boil the camp out site water over their open camp out fire to ensure it is sterile, while they blow their flutes to Peter, Paul, and Mary tunes. They snip their nose a the Wheeled Manors, wondering just how much fuel they guzzle. They hammer railroad spikes into trees that kill the loggers trying to harvest them. The block the harbors with their un-motorized boats to stop the salmon and crab fishermen. On and on...
Haven't they ever peed behind a tree? Where do their pee suds go? Don't they live in houses built from trees, or haven't they ever eaten fish? Sure they do, but they'll never admit it. They don't always ride bicycles and eat food from their gardens, you know. They have to go outside the box at some point. Perhaps only in the dark of night though.
Now, I'm sure some of you are offended because I assumed this fellow was one of those ecology pukes, or that I'm down on thigs like global warming and energy conservation. Well, puke you too!
I'm going to pee off the Thought Dock right now.
.
This might be news to most of you, but I'll admit I'm not perfect, and I don't know everything as some of you have pointed out.
I know it's hard to believe, but I did buy Cinamon Graham Crackers to make S'Mores for my grand children. And I did wash off the awning of my Wheeled Manor right in my camp out site. And, I didn't wear my seatbelt while driving in the park, and I burped and farted at least once without excusing myself afterwards. Feel better now?
So, when I unfurled the awning of the Wheeled Manor, I noticed some dirt and signs of mold on the canvass. Using a concoction of dish soap and bleach, I began cleaning it with a long handled brush and a water hose when another camp outer walked by.
The guy informed me that washing the Manor in the camp out site was improper because the suds from my concoction would leach into the soil and endanger the ecology. I gave him the "eye roll," and wished him a very nice day. He scampered off, toward the Ranger's office, where I thouht he would tell on me.
Oregon seems to be full of these pukes. Dressed in their 18-pocket shorts, and a 35 pocket vests, a canvass hat, and sandals much like Moses wore, with binoculars hanging around their necks, they wander around looking to tell on others who don't use the world as the see fit. They camp out in tents strapped to the roof of their Prius, boil the camp out site water over their open camp out fire to ensure it is sterile, while they blow their flutes to Peter, Paul, and Mary tunes. They snip their nose a the Wheeled Manors, wondering just how much fuel they guzzle. They hammer railroad spikes into trees that kill the loggers trying to harvest them. The block the harbors with their un-motorized boats to stop the salmon and crab fishermen. On and on...
Haven't they ever peed behind a tree? Where do their pee suds go? Don't they live in houses built from trees, or haven't they ever eaten fish? Sure they do, but they'll never admit it. They don't always ride bicycles and eat food from their gardens, you know. They have to go outside the box at some point. Perhaps only in the dark of night though.
Now, I'm sure some of you are offended because I assumed this fellow was one of those ecology pukes, or that I'm down on thigs like global warming and energy conservation. Well, puke you too!
I'm going to pee off the Thought Dock right now.
.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
The Art of a Fire
.
John builds the perfect campfire. Starting with a ball of newspaper, he then carefully places sticks of Cedar, and progressively adds larger and larger splits of pine. One match and Whaa Laa!!
Now, I just pile some splits, squirt them with charcoal lighter, and seem to get the same Whaa Laa! But I never got to have a fire of my own on this camp out. I was just beginning to get one going in my site, but John, apparently smelled the lighter fluid I was about to open, rushed over and built my fire his way. Oh well, it's all good.
Then, we were all circled around John's fire one night when Doug said, "You know, without friction, a fire can not burn." I had never heard that, and it made no sense to me, so I asked him to explain more. But he just told me to figure it out myself, and insisted he was right. And maybe he is.
Well, thinking back to my science days, I remembered that to have fire, you needed a fuel source, heat, and oxygen. I couldn't remember friction being a part of that. Now, I know that friction can cause a fire because it creates heat. Like on Survivor, they rub sticks together and the friction creates heat, or they strike steel against flint which makes friction which makes heat. But I don't think that friction is required to make or sustain a fire. One could use a magnifying glass to focus the sun's rays to make heat and start a fire. Or sometimes spontaneous combustion of oily rags start a fire. So where is the friction there?
I'm sure there is a Follower out there that has some chemistry background that can clarify this issue. What say you?
.
John builds the perfect campfire. Starting with a ball of newspaper, he then carefully places sticks of Cedar, and progressively adds larger and larger splits of pine. One match and Whaa Laa!!
Now, I just pile some splits, squirt them with charcoal lighter, and seem to get the same Whaa Laa! But I never got to have a fire of my own on this camp out. I was just beginning to get one going in my site, but John, apparently smelled the lighter fluid I was about to open, rushed over and built my fire his way. Oh well, it's all good.
Then, we were all circled around John's fire one night when Doug said, "You know, without friction, a fire can not burn." I had never heard that, and it made no sense to me, so I asked him to explain more. But he just told me to figure it out myself, and insisted he was right. And maybe he is.
Well, thinking back to my science days, I remembered that to have fire, you needed a fuel source, heat, and oxygen. I couldn't remember friction being a part of that. Now, I know that friction can cause a fire because it creates heat. Like on Survivor, they rub sticks together and the friction creates heat, or they strike steel against flint which makes friction which makes heat. But I don't think that friction is required to make or sustain a fire. One could use a magnifying glass to focus the sun's rays to make heat and start a fire. Or sometimes spontaneous combustion of oily rags start a fire. So where is the friction there?
I'm sure there is a Follower out there that has some chemistry background that can clarify this issue. What say you?
.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
S'Mores A'More
.
We all camped out. It was kind of like being in my own back yard, and was only about five miles down the road. There was a lake, sand dunes, a dock, and a beach not so far away. Close enough even to receive vibes from the Thought Dock. We took the Manor on Wheels there and my wife got up early every day and went to work right from the camp out. But it was nice to get away and socialize.
My brudda and his wife, Kathy, and their grand daughter Katlyn (5), and their grandson Austin (3), and their dog Sidney(4), and their daughter Nancy (25), and her dog Kobe (3), and her boyfriend Brad, and everyones friend Elma (93), and their other friend John, and his wife Tanya, and their dog Princess(1), and their son David (10), and their daughter Sarah(5), and my brudda wife's sister Karen, and her son Rob(18), and his girlfriend Sarah (18), were all there too.
Apparently Kathy was in the Girl Scouts of America and she couldn't wait to show off her scouting skills for her grand children. Now it's been 47 or so years since she learned how to make S'Mores, and to aggravate the situation, I don't think her tires were properly inflated, either then, or when she set out to impress the kids. Remember S'Mores? If you've never had one, or can't recall, they are made from melted chocolate and a marshmallow, squished between two squares of graham crackers. Most everyone I knew loved them, except me (of course you say, because you think I'm weird).
Well, Kathy remembered there was a campfire involved, and we had a good one going. And, she knew there was melted chocolate involved, but the rest must have been really fuzzy to her. She is a very crafty kind of gal though. That said, here is what she did. Keep in mind that I did not actually see this, but that it was reported to me by someone else who was laughing very hard.
Kathy fashioned a cup from tinfoil and put the chocolate bar in it, then placed them on the grill next to the burning fire, which melted the chocolate. Then she placed a cold marshmallow on a cracker, poured the melted chocolate over it, then covered it all with the second cracker. And Shaa Zaam!! There it was. The hybrid S'More!
The kids were impressed and sucked them down as quick as she could make them. But those of us that were properly tuned, had to laugh. And that we did. For my Followers that don't know, you make S'Mores by placing an un-melted piece of chocolate on a graham cracker, then place a well toasted marshmallow from the campfire on the chocolate and cover it all with a second cracker, and squish it almost flat, which turns it into a gooey mess of melted chocolate and marshmallow that dripped all over as you tried to eat it. The toasting of the marshmallow over the open fire seemed to be the fun part, yet some how Kathy forgot that part.
Oh well, she was a good sport about it. By the end of our camp out, she had the proper procedure down pat, and I'm sure she will never forget it.
.
We all camped out. It was kind of like being in my own back yard, and was only about five miles down the road. There was a lake, sand dunes, a dock, and a beach not so far away. Close enough even to receive vibes from the Thought Dock. We took the Manor on Wheels there and my wife got up early every day and went to work right from the camp out. But it was nice to get away and socialize.
My brudda and his wife, Kathy, and their grand daughter Katlyn (5), and their grandson Austin (3), and their dog Sidney(4), and their daughter Nancy (25), and her dog Kobe (3), and her boyfriend Brad, and everyones friend Elma (93), and their other friend John, and his wife Tanya, and their dog Princess(1), and their son David (10), and their daughter Sarah(5), and my brudda wife's sister Karen, and her son Rob(18), and his girlfriend Sarah (18), were all there too.
Apparently Kathy was in the Girl Scouts of America and she couldn't wait to show off her scouting skills for her grand children. Now it's been 47 or so years since she learned how to make S'Mores, and to aggravate the situation, I don't think her tires were properly inflated, either then, or when she set out to impress the kids. Remember S'Mores? If you've never had one, or can't recall, they are made from melted chocolate and a marshmallow, squished between two squares of graham crackers. Most everyone I knew loved them, except me (of course you say, because you think I'm weird).
Well, Kathy remembered there was a campfire involved, and we had a good one going. And, she knew there was melted chocolate involved, but the rest must have been really fuzzy to her. She is a very crafty kind of gal though. That said, here is what she did. Keep in mind that I did not actually see this, but that it was reported to me by someone else who was laughing very hard.
Kathy fashioned a cup from tinfoil and put the chocolate bar in it, then placed them on the grill next to the burning fire, which melted the chocolate. Then she placed a cold marshmallow on a cracker, poured the melted chocolate over it, then covered it all with the second cracker. And Shaa Zaam!! There it was. The hybrid S'More!
The kids were impressed and sucked them down as quick as she could make them. But those of us that were properly tuned, had to laugh. And that we did. For my Followers that don't know, you make S'Mores by placing an un-melted piece of chocolate on a graham cracker, then place a well toasted marshmallow from the campfire on the chocolate and cover it all with a second cracker, and squish it almost flat, which turns it into a gooey mess of melted chocolate and marshmallow that dripped all over as you tried to eat it. The toasting of the marshmallow over the open fire seemed to be the fun part, yet some how Kathy forgot that part.
Oh well, she was a good sport about it. By the end of our camp out, she had the proper procedure down pat, and I'm sure she will never forget it.
.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Keeping Up On The Maintenance
.
I've stressed it all of my life: Keep things in tune.
Imagine trying to drive a curvy mountain road with your right rear tire nealy flat. You're asking for trouble (my daugher drove for a week on a flat before she asked me to check her steering).
So it goes while visiting me at the Thought Dock. If you are unprepared for your lesson, or are not quite in tune, you will leave confused, or will leave a senseless comment because you've mis-understood my wisdom.
I felt the vibes calling from the Thought Dock during my absence and I suspected something was wrong. And now I see what it is, and blogging about my wonderful camp out will have to wait until I address this situation.
Seems a few of you missed the entire point of the post, "What would you like with your steak, Dear?" And, you seem to think that I mis-judged my observations about the lady pushing the shopping cart with a child through the deli area while planning dinner.
First of all, it takes years of both professional training and personal experience to acureately assess an observation. In addition, one must be in tune, which some of you are not. Now maybe, if my right rear tire was flat, or if my engine was missing, I might have seen things differently, as you did. Maybe, I woukd have thought the two were sisters, or that the grandmother was sitting in the cart, not pushing it. Or perhaps, the pusher was the daughter taking care of her mom. But, I am in tune. My tires are at the proper pressures, and I judged situation fairly.
But, none of that was the point of the post. The point was actually commenting on how things have changed over the years for children. No mention was made about whether kids are spoiled today, or have it easier, or dictating what they have for dinner is wrong. It was just a comment, and it reminded me to sing "What a Wonderful World."
It's a shame that I can't make this first post about our camp out, but I knew this would happen. That's why I gave you all a list of things to do to keep your minds in tune. Obviously some of you slacked a bit.
So, please take the time to check your pressures and such, and be prepared to absorb the wisdom of the Thought Dock with your next visit. Whew..........
.
I've stressed it all of my life: Keep things in tune.
Imagine trying to drive a curvy mountain road with your right rear tire nealy flat. You're asking for trouble (my daugher drove for a week on a flat before she asked me to check her steering).
So it goes while visiting me at the Thought Dock. If you are unprepared for your lesson, or are not quite in tune, you will leave confused, or will leave a senseless comment because you've mis-understood my wisdom.
I felt the vibes calling from the Thought Dock during my absence and I suspected something was wrong. And now I see what it is, and blogging about my wonderful camp out will have to wait until I address this situation.
Seems a few of you missed the entire point of the post, "What would you like with your steak, Dear?" And, you seem to think that I mis-judged my observations about the lady pushing the shopping cart with a child through the deli area while planning dinner.
First of all, it takes years of both professional training and personal experience to acureately assess an observation. In addition, one must be in tune, which some of you are not. Now maybe, if my right rear tire was flat, or if my engine was missing, I might have seen things differently, as you did. Maybe, I woukd have thought the two were sisters, or that the grandmother was sitting in the cart, not pushing it. Or perhaps, the pusher was the daughter taking care of her mom. But, I am in tune. My tires are at the proper pressures, and I judged situation fairly.
But, none of that was the point of the post. The point was actually commenting on how things have changed over the years for children. No mention was made about whether kids are spoiled today, or have it easier, or dictating what they have for dinner is wrong. It was just a comment, and it reminded me to sing "What a Wonderful World."
It's a shame that I can't make this first post about our camp out, but I knew this would happen. That's why I gave you all a list of things to do to keep your minds in tune. Obviously some of you slacked a bit.
So, please take the time to check your pressures and such, and be prepared to absorb the wisdom of the Thought Dock with your next visit. Whew..........
.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Getting By Without Me
.
You're going to get another break from me whether you like it or not. I suspect that the few of you that got hammered in the recent days are in a full retreat anyway. They'll welcome the break while I recreate, but it won't be long before they will be sending e-mails and such, asking me for more. I apologize to the rest of you for my absence, but you are the strong ones and will survive for a bit without my wisdom.
Tomorrow, my brudda, from the Central Oregon Valley, and his family, and his friends (which are also my friends), are coming to the Central Oregon Coast to camp out for a week or so. I'll join them to share my wisdom while stoking the camp fire fed by my locally harvested pine trees.
Now, for those of you that can't be with us, here is what I want you to do. It will help you quench your thirst for wisdom while I'm away from the Thought Dock.
Never, not even for one second on this Fourth of July, think about anything else but America. The United States of America. About how it came to be. About how it was created to serve God. About how it was founded based upon His laws. About those that struggled so hard to declare our Independence from oppression. And for those that have given their lives to protect those hard earned freedoms.
Sing, hum, play, all those songs. But remember the words as well. God bless America. This Land is your Land. Glory, Glory, Hallelujah. America the Beautiful. The Star Spangled Banner. And all the rest. You know them, but we just don't listen to them enough these days and we tend to forget.
Remember our past heroes, but never forget the traitors, for our history tells our future. We have many more heroes and traitors working today. Trouble is, they well disguised and hard to recognize. Listen not so much to what they say, but watch what they do. You'll learn to identify them with practice.
Be a Patriot. Waive the Flag. Watch the fireworks. Picture the Statue of Liberty. And, be proud to be an American. Enjoy and be safe on this July 4Th. weekend. I'll be back in about a week!
.
You're going to get another break from me whether you like it or not. I suspect that the few of you that got hammered in the recent days are in a full retreat anyway. They'll welcome the break while I recreate, but it won't be long before they will be sending e-mails and such, asking me for more. I apologize to the rest of you for my absence, but you are the strong ones and will survive for a bit without my wisdom.
Tomorrow, my brudda, from the Central Oregon Valley, and his family, and his friends (which are also my friends), are coming to the Central Oregon Coast to camp out for a week or so. I'll join them to share my wisdom while stoking the camp fire fed by my locally harvested pine trees.
Now, for those of you that can't be with us, here is what I want you to do. It will help you quench your thirst for wisdom while I'm away from the Thought Dock.
Never, not even for one second on this Fourth of July, think about anything else but America. The United States of America. About how it came to be. About how it was created to serve God. About how it was founded based upon His laws. About those that struggled so hard to declare our Independence from oppression. And for those that have given their lives to protect those hard earned freedoms.
Sing, hum, play, all those songs. But remember the words as well. God bless America. This Land is your Land. Glory, Glory, Hallelujah. America the Beautiful. The Star Spangled Banner. And all the rest. You know them, but we just don't listen to them enough these days and we tend to forget.
Remember our past heroes, but never forget the traitors, for our history tells our future. We have many more heroes and traitors working today. Trouble is, they well disguised and hard to recognize. Listen not so much to what they say, but watch what they do. You'll learn to identify them with practice.
Be a Patriot. Waive the Flag. Watch the fireworks. Picture the Statue of Liberty. And, be proud to be an American. Enjoy and be safe on this July 4Th. weekend. I'll be back in about a week!
.
Friday, July 3, 2009
What Would You Like With Your Steak Tonight, Dear?
.
You know, I had a really wonderful childhood. At least for the 16 and only years I lived at home. I probably lived in at least 15 different communities, in 5 or 6 states, and three different countries, on two continents. Wouldn't have had it any other way.
But growing up is different now. Last night, while I was looking for the best value in pre-cooked meals at the grocery store deli, I noticed a lady in her late sixties, pushing a cart full of groceries, with about a 3-year old strapped in the seat. I presumed the adult was the grand mother of the child of her methhead child. It seems to be very prevalent around here to see people raising their children's children for what ever reason.
Granny asked the kid, "What would you like with your steak tonight, Dear?" Holy crap! Since when are 3 year olds competent enough to make a decision like that. But then, after seeing the T-bones in the cart, I thought maybe the kid selected them too.
Thinking back, I can't ever remember even eating a steak while I lived at home, unless you count a pot roast as steak. And I don't think my children had steak more than a half dozen times in my house, unless you count skirt steaks (actually they were pretty tasty). My kids were lucky to be able to chose the flavor of the Kool Aid we'd buy for them!
And then, during my first introduction to our most recent grand daughter last week, her father showed off a closet he built special for Isabella. Holy crap! The child, less than 3 weeks old, had a wardrobe larger the the entire amount of clothes my children owned through high school.
I could go on and on. The toys, activities, computers, cars, electronics, etc., are now so more available than ever before.
Isn't it great? So great that listening to Louis Armstrong sing, "What a Wonderful World" brings tears to my eyes.
.
You know, I had a really wonderful childhood. At least for the 16 and only years I lived at home. I probably lived in at least 15 different communities, in 5 or 6 states, and three different countries, on two continents. Wouldn't have had it any other way.
But growing up is different now. Last night, while I was looking for the best value in pre-cooked meals at the grocery store deli, I noticed a lady in her late sixties, pushing a cart full of groceries, with about a 3-year old strapped in the seat. I presumed the adult was the grand mother of the child of her methhead child. It seems to be very prevalent around here to see people raising their children's children for what ever reason.
Granny asked the kid, "What would you like with your steak tonight, Dear?" Holy crap! Since when are 3 year olds competent enough to make a decision like that. But then, after seeing the T-bones in the cart, I thought maybe the kid selected them too.
Thinking back, I can't ever remember even eating a steak while I lived at home, unless you count a pot roast as steak. And I don't think my children had steak more than a half dozen times in my house, unless you count skirt steaks (actually they were pretty tasty). My kids were lucky to be able to chose the flavor of the Kool Aid we'd buy for them!
And then, during my first introduction to our most recent grand daughter last week, her father showed off a closet he built special for Isabella. Holy crap! The child, less than 3 weeks old, had a wardrobe larger the the entire amount of clothes my children owned through high school.
I could go on and on. The toys, activities, computers, cars, electronics, etc., are now so more available than ever before.
Isn't it great? So great that listening to Louis Armstrong sing, "What a Wonderful World" brings tears to my eyes.
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Thursday, July 2, 2009
I don't Think So.
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It seems some of my Followers are beginning to lash out at me. And that's what happens when one sees they are losing ground in the wisdom generated from the Thought Dock. Just this week, I've been labeled as a bigot, being arrogant, accused of blasphemy, and asked whether I've lost my mind. That's typical for the liberals of the world who demand that we listen to them, but refuse to hear any view that differs from theirs. They cry foul and whine about how prejudice everyone else is. They'll turn off the show because they can't stand to hear the truth, but you know what, they always come back for more.
Call me what you want, but think about your actions as well. Am I a bigot because I chose to live around people that share the same values that I have? I don't think so.
Words like deaf, dumb, fat, plum, bum, and vagrant were around a lot longer than I know, and are still acceptable terms. You say they are hurtfull to use, but you call me "Big Balls?" Something is wrong with that picture. They were not offensive words. They just became obsolete when the kinder way came. So, if I use them, I'm using blasphemy? I don't think so. Call yourself hurtfull first.
I believe that you are not entitled to what you don't earn. So is that arrogance? I don't think so. Now stating that you look better in uniform than anyone else before you, is arrogant. Smiling and waving at everyone as you patrol that sleepy town will likely keep you safe until there is an encounter with an escapee from the nearby State prison. I pray that will never happen.
I've never hurled insults at anyone because of their color, size, prominence, or lack of. I've only made remarks about those that refuse to earn their way and I'll stand by that. Now, I find it a privilege to help those that can not help themselves. The sick, ill, elderly, the ones that justifiably can't work, and the ones that have paid the price to society. And to them, I am generous.
That bum with the fisherman's outfit is such an example of my intolerance. Has he ever helped anyone? I don't think so. Considering the free time he has by not working, he could be volunteering somewhere to give back a little of what he has taken. He won't even pick up after himself after sitting and eating the fast food that someone gave him.
So, take a stand for what you believe. Do what you say. Don't cry when you lose, but get up and try it again. Don't rejoice when you win, but go on to do it again. One's title alone will not win the battles.
Call me names if it makes you feel better, but ask yourself what you should be called. Don't try to figure me out. Just come to peace with yourself. Cry if you need. Tune me out if you can. Bury your head to the truths. But, I'll be there for your needs. So, there will be more of me to come. More ways to stimulate your mind from the Thought Dock.
.
It seems some of my Followers are beginning to lash out at me. And that's what happens when one sees they are losing ground in the wisdom generated from the Thought Dock. Just this week, I've been labeled as a bigot, being arrogant, accused of blasphemy, and asked whether I've lost my mind. That's typical for the liberals of the world who demand that we listen to them, but refuse to hear any view that differs from theirs. They cry foul and whine about how prejudice everyone else is. They'll turn off the show because they can't stand to hear the truth, but you know what, they always come back for more.
Call me what you want, but think about your actions as well. Am I a bigot because I chose to live around people that share the same values that I have? I don't think so.
Words like deaf, dumb, fat, plum, bum, and vagrant were around a lot longer than I know, and are still acceptable terms. You say they are hurtfull to use, but you call me "Big Balls?" Something is wrong with that picture. They were not offensive words. They just became obsolete when the kinder way came. So, if I use them, I'm using blasphemy? I don't think so. Call yourself hurtfull first.
I believe that you are not entitled to what you don't earn. So is that arrogance? I don't think so. Now stating that you look better in uniform than anyone else before you, is arrogant. Smiling and waving at everyone as you patrol that sleepy town will likely keep you safe until there is an encounter with an escapee from the nearby State prison. I pray that will never happen.
I've never hurled insults at anyone because of their color, size, prominence, or lack of. I've only made remarks about those that refuse to earn their way and I'll stand by that. Now, I find it a privilege to help those that can not help themselves. The sick, ill, elderly, the ones that justifiably can't work, and the ones that have paid the price to society. And to them, I am generous.
That bum with the fisherman's outfit is such an example of my intolerance. Has he ever helped anyone? I don't think so. Considering the free time he has by not working, he could be volunteering somewhere to give back a little of what he has taken. He won't even pick up after himself after sitting and eating the fast food that someone gave him.
So, take a stand for what you believe. Do what you say. Don't cry when you lose, but get up and try it again. Don't rejoice when you win, but go on to do it again. One's title alone will not win the battles.
Call me names if it makes you feel better, but ask yourself what you should be called. Don't try to figure me out. Just come to peace with yourself. Cry if you need. Tune me out if you can. Bury your head to the truths. But, I'll be there for your needs. So, there will be more of me to come. More ways to stimulate your mind from the Thought Dock.
.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Hey Skipper
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Oregon requires all boat operators to complete a Boater's Safety Course before they can legally skipper a boat. It's a good program, I think.
So, last evening, my niece from the Central Oregon Valley announced that she had passed the course. My first thoughts were: Boats were meant to be operated by real men, and she doesn't even have a boat to pilot. But then, I guess in case of an emergency on the water, or an overdose of wine, she could skipper her father's boat, or maybe even mine for that matter.
Although it would be unlikely that she'll ever be needed to operate a boat, the fact that she is certified, could be a valuable credential to add to her portfolio in her quest to attract a husband. It's a beginning I know, but hopefully she could learn to cook, clean, pull a cork from the wine bottle, and add those skills to her basket as well.
And, maybe then she'll find that husband.
.
Oregon requires all boat operators to complete a Boater's Safety Course before they can legally skipper a boat. It's a good program, I think.
So, last evening, my niece from the Central Oregon Valley announced that she had passed the course. My first thoughts were: Boats were meant to be operated by real men, and she doesn't even have a boat to pilot. But then, I guess in case of an emergency on the water, or an overdose of wine, she could skipper her father's boat, or maybe even mine for that matter.
Although it would be unlikely that she'll ever be needed to operate a boat, the fact that she is certified, could be a valuable credential to add to her portfolio in her quest to attract a husband. It's a beginning I know, but hopefully she could learn to cook, clean, pull a cork from the wine bottle, and add those skills to her basket as well.
And, maybe then she'll find that husband.
.
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