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.
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And, God has led me to be me. And I will be me.
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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.
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Now look at what you did

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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

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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.
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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
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The Collector

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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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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 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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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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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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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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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?
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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.
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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.
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He Slipped

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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.

Ok, I'll admit it

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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.
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The Art of a Fire

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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?
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S'Mores A'More

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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.
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Keeping Up On The Maintenance

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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..........
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Getting By Without Me

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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!
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What Would You Like With Your Steak Tonight, Dear?

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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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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.
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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.
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Kinder Ways

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Remember these? Beatnik - Hobo - Bum - Vagrant - Pan Handler - Derelict - Transient - Vagabond - Gypsy - Hermit - Mooch - Drone - Parasite - Squatter - Freeloader - Stowaway - Beggar - Carpetbagger - Street Urchin.

Isn't the English language wonderful? All of these terms, and many more I'm sure, are now obsolete and have been replaced by the term "Homeless Person." Are we just trying to be a kinder and gentler society by not offending these maggots of society, or are we just afraid to call them what they are?

And we have "Little People, Hearing, Speaking, Sight, Height, Weight , Skeleton, Age, Mental, Skin disability" classes. What ever happened to using words like "Dwarf, Midget, Deaf, Dumb, Blind, Tall, Fat, Gimp, Senior, Retarded, or Pimpled Faced" to describe peoples physical attributes. I fit into several of these categories myself and I'm not opposed to someone calling me a fat old man. Call it as you see it. Makes it a lot easier to get your point across.

And that is my point from the Thought Dock. I'm sure you have yours.
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Tripping Back

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After three days of spinning in the valley, and likely pissing off as many people as we made happy, we loaded ourselves into the wheeled manor and headed home. Isabella (the newborn that was the focus of our visit) cried when we had to leave.

Twenty five miles uphill to the top of the Tejon Pass via the Grapevine, and then dropping at nearly twice the rate we climbed, lead us right by my sista's house. And then 300 miles of mostly flat, mostly level, and mostly windy terrain. Passing signs reading, "Congress Created Dustbowl" marking areas that once were farmlands.

I think the last time we drove this route was when that drunken idiot driving his Porsche slammed into our rear at over 100mph, nearly killing us. Too bad he survived, I thought.

The Sacramento Delta's rice fields were flooded reminding me of the soldiers lost wading through the ones in Vietnam. Seemed odd that the farmlands we just passed though were dry, but we are still growing lots of rice.

A night's rest and back at it again. Past Redding. Everything is getting greener. Up and up again, Shasta Lake, oh so pretty. Then down, down, and down. A left turn, past the elk reserves, and taa taah! The coast. A right turn on the left coast. A few more miles.

And then I saw him. Holy Crap! It was that bum in the fisherman's outfit that I met a few weeks ago. He was heading south from Old Town. Could it be? Could he be the hero I searched all over for this past week? He had a gimmick. An outfit just like all heroes had. Superman, Batman, Mighty Mouse all had outfits.

No, not my hero. This bum has never contributed to society, but has only been a leech. No, if I had a hero, he would be someone like Ollie North, not this pile of crap.

Well, aap, I guess I really don't have a hero, nor do I see much good left in this world. All I can do is try to be good and do what I can to keep the world from eroding even further. And I pray that my grandchildren will be able to enjoy the life I have, and sit with me at the Thought Dock before it all dries up.
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Keep Things Spinning

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Spinning is the best way to maintain balance and direction. And having balance and direction is always the best way to be fair. But as a gyroscope or toy top's spin slows, so it begins to wobble and lose direction.

So it goes when you have only 3 full days to visit everyone that you would like to, without offending those that don't get the pleasure of your presence. I think you've all been there a time or two and know what I mean.

Our primary reason for the trip was to meet our new grand daughter, so everything else was scheduled around that. Even that didn't go so well. At only three weeks old, she was crying while anticipating our arrival, and cried when we had to leave each day. But what a joy she was when we were there. So beautiful and innocent. Truly an example of God's love.

Now, we had the wheeled manor filled with the 5 critters, and the grand daughter demanding that we stay in her neighborhood. But, at the same time, the mother-in-law insisting we travel another hour to stay with her. Nana won and that we did. The manor was parked and plugged in at the storage area, while we slept on the floor at her house. Pleased her, but rough on my back.

Time never slowed, but our spin did as we tried to visit as many as possible. A few hours with my sister in laws, then 20 minutes with an old neighbor, and an hour or so with a good friend. With every visit the spin slowed as no one could understand the reason for such short visits. I felt the wobble setting in.

No time to visit my daughter 60 miles north. No time for my sista and her daughters only a few miles off the path on the way home. Never a time left for an afternoon nap, dinner out, or shopping. Not even time to make a good look for a hero. It's likely that we hurt more people with no visits, or short visits, than we pleased with our presence. To those that I hurt, I know that you won't understand, but I ask for your forgiveness.

It was a wonderful time, though way too short. So, as the wobble set deeper, but before we capsized, we headed home to the safety of the Thought Dock.
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Tripping South

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One of my avid Followers commented to a previous post not long ago, asking whether I saw any good in this world, and whether I ever had a hero. So, I kept a sharp eye during our road trip south and deeper into this Land of Honalee.

One hundred miles, then two, along the coast, taking my time, all the time, but staying on time. No Jackie Paper, or the Magic Puff could I find. Winding roads, but without toads. Gorgeous ocean views, lots of elk and deer, and a few smaller critters of unknown species that didn't quite make it across the road.

Then turned east and through the Redwood Forrest. How enchanting it was. 12 foot wide at the base, and hundreds of feet tall. The trunk, encroaching to within a few inches of the edge of the 2-lane road, bore signs of several car accidents. I wondered how many travellers would have to die before they will remove the tree, but the ecologists disagree.

Then, into the majestic wine country of the Napa Valley. Drink to that. Raise the price of grapes so that no one can afford to buy a home because the vineyards are worth their weight in gold. Now three hundred, then four hundred miles, and into the Interstate 5 corridor.

Stretching yet another 300 miles south from the Sacramento delta, to the base of the Tehachapi mountains, where once great farms sprawled as far as the eyes could see. Given way to oil derricks now rusting after having gone dry, because the ecologist hammered out the dangers of nuclear reactors. That's OK, we'll just buy our oil from our friends in Iran. But our friends in Iran changed once the reactors were dismantled. Oil is now 20 times more expensive than it was when I attended high school.

The fields in the valley are all by dry now as the waters have been diverted to quench the thirst of Southern California. Why not? We can buy all our produce from South America anyway. What a concept! Maybe all the illegal migrant farm workers will re-migrate home to their own fields.

Nearly gone are the huge cattle ranches. Driven away by ecologists demanding that cows be happy and have shade before they are sent to slaughter for food. Driven away to other states and countries while driving the price of burgers up. No mas Dollar Menu.

Now, up and over. The final 150 and to the Valley. We arrived safely, but unable to chant the tunes of "This Land is My Land. This Land is Your Land. From the ........"

And, I still can't find that darn dragon.
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And that was Yesterday; and Yesterday is Gone..

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Goodbye Michael..

Goodbye Farrah..

Like Anna Nicole Smith, John Lennon, Elvis Presley, John Kennedy, Princess Di, and everyone in between, you once were, but are no more.

You are gone and I really don't care how or why you died. Anal cancer, drug overdose, an assassin's bullet, old age, or an accident; it makes no difference to me.

I'll remember you for what you were, but I'll not join the media blitz of speculation as to how you came to pass, who will raise your children, or who will lay claim to your fortunes. Because, I know that it will all work out. Someone will care for the kids, and someone will spend your money, and someone will stand trial if you were murdered.

Well. I'm back!! Are you thirsty? I'll feed your body and quench your thirst, but first I have to rest up a bit from the reality of a SoCal visit. So, let me know what you want. I'm just here for you. Want humor? Want to see pictures and hear about my family? Want politics? Want more about me? Want my philosophy? I can stimulate your mind in so many ways. You tell me. But, keep in mind that what you might want, might not be what I think is best for you. And how many of you fell for that invitation to visit the Love Porch? Bet that was fun.. Ho! Ho! Ho! Let's learn about scrap booking while we sing along with PP&M to Puff the.......

I'm heading to the Thought Dock.

You're Gonna Miss This..

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By the time most of you read this, you've missed the train I'm on, and you'll know that I am gone. I'll be 500 miles away from home. No, I'm not really taking the train, but I will be gone, and will be about half way to my vacation destination.

Although I will have this communicator with me, I don't know whether I will be able to establish a link to the great Internet in the sky. So, I might not be able to satisfy your thirst for Thought as often as you need.

But it seems that I have filled your brains with enough mind boggling crap, with spin on it, to keep you thinking on your own for the next week or so while I'm gone. If that is not the case just turn in to Fox News to get back to speed.

But, maybe the lack of recent Thought Comments indicates that I've been too deep with your education and that you are suffering from Thought Dock Burnout Syndrome (TDBS).

I can diagnose TDBS because I created it. But you can too. If you have self diagnosed yourself with TDBS, the antidote is listening to PPM. That's Peter, Paul, and Mary for those of us that really know them. Or is it Peter, Paul, and Mamma? Mamma Obama. That'll mellow you out.

So, relax and smoke your socks. I'll be back in a week or so to get you back on track from the Thought Dock.
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OK, Let's All Line Up

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I'm sure you've seen those videos of China and North Korea. You know, the ones where everyone is dressed the same? The ones where the school children are marching in mass to their next class? The ones where a whole sports stadium is acting in unison, flashing paper plates while singing some sort of national song. The ones where the soldiers march in the streets like little Hitlers while clinging to their 1960 era weapons.

I'm sure some of you think that is quite incredible. Is that what you really want for America? But, China and North Korea are communist countries, you say. Well, socialism is but a small click away from communism.

Our President is now controlling our banks, car manufacturers, and moving in for the greatest prize, health care. Soon it will be the schools and universities. He has all ready proclaimed that he is the only one that can save America from doom.

So. let's all line up to see a doctor, line up at the bank and line up to buy the car he thinks you should buy. Get in line at school and at college. There, they will have a special long line for the White Americans.

He says he knows it all, because he was raised by a Muslim father, and had the struggles of being a half-breed. He knows how to shake hands with our Muslim terrorist enemies. He knows all about health care because of his mother's death because of her inability to afford the best treatment. So, why didn't he help her pay for a good doctor rather than give fault to Medicare?

If Barrack Hussein Obummer continues on his path, he will soon rule with an iron fist as he proclaims himself as the Messiah. It's all in the Book.

Think about it folks. Very scary.

The Great Sugar Daddy

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Some one very dear to me watched a local news clip today about workers also losing their health insurance when they get laid off. It was asked, "Why can't there be sort of a slush fund held by the insurance companies to allow for continued (free) medical care during these hard times?"

I asked, "So where would this slush fund come from?" I was told that a small part of every one's premiums could be set aside by the insurance companies for the hard times. Yeah, just tax me more (raise my premiums) to support the less fortunate ones.

Holy Crap! The Thought Dock is now in danger of being conquered by the over whelming and ever growing liberal socialists in my very dear family. It seems America is rap­idly approaching the position that most Americans are entitled to be sup­ported by those who work, and pay for their welfare and desires while doing nothing to earn anything (I borrowed this sentence from another published article).

I need that cannon now more than ever, or at least a 50 caliber gattling gun. I'll hold them off as long as I can. Never Surrender!!
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Pass the Candy, Please

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I don't know anyone who doesn't like candy. My absolute favorite is See's Dark Chocolates. I always choose a box of them when ever the opportunity presents itself, and they never go to waste.

Think about an assorted box of chocolates or nuts for a moment. The candies look similar on the outside, but they are drastically different inside. It's natural for all of us to have personal preferences, whether it is for the taste of chocolates or nuts, what neighborhood you live in, who you're friends are, or the music you like. There is certainly plenty of choices.

Now, I'm sure that at some time, someone has passed a box of those assorted chocolates to you, and you realized someone else has all ready selected your favorite. And sometimes, someone has actually taken a bite from one or two, then put them back after realizing they didn't like them. Ever get passed that tray of mixed nuts only to find that all the cashews are missing?

"How disgusting." You've chastised you kids putting back that candy after tasting it. Maybe you even forced the child to eat it anyway. Maybe you've even forced yourself to eat a nasty one just to be polite. I've been there myself a time or two. "Such a waste," you might say when you find the bitten ones that no one else will eat because they know those taste like crap. That's what happens when you believe every piece of candy in that assorted box has the same great taste. Now, that's being foolish. I think it's only natural to spit something out you don't like and try something else.

Well, I don't buy into the assorted theory (socialism) anymore. I only eat what I like, live where I like, and choose friends that I have something in common with. And there is nothing wrong with that. It's not to say that I won't go out on the limb to taste something new, or meet new people. But, after I try it and find I don't like it, I don't keep on forcing things to work. If you fix me dinner, and I don't like it (actually that seldom happens), I won't eat it just to be nice. I'm not a bigot, but I know what I like and what I don't.

Our government has made us all into a box of assorted cholcolates. They tell us everyone is all the same, neighborhoods are the same, and that we should all be able to adapt to one another, for the greater cause. In a sense, one would agree that we all look kind of the same, speak similar, dress the same, and share the same dreams. But inside, we all know that is not true. We are all different. Not necessarily better, but just different. Now if you admit that, the liberals call you a bigot.

Employers are forced to draw blindly from the box because the government tells them that everyone in the box is the same. But they are not. They are individuals and each have their own strengths. And if you peek into the box before selecting, they call that discrimination. Or, after making your selection and finding out first hand the person was unqualified, and terminate him, you get sued.

If you select a neighborhood to live in because most of the residents are like you, or share your values, the socialists call you a bigot. They encourage you to voluntary desegregate and integrate into a new neighborhood. They actually give cash incentives to those that do. And they bus the children of proud parents who built top notch schools, into areas where even the locals won't stay. They insist that makes things equal.

Well come to the Thought Dock and share a chocolate with me. Now, you won't have much of a choice because all I have here are dark chocolates. Don't fret. It's Ok with me if you spit one out, but next time bring your own. I'll try one of yours, but I will spit it out, if I don't like it.
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I've Sat The Bench With Some Of The Best

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In Those Days, not everyone always got to play in the game, because games were meant to be won, and the coach always played their best. And often, I didn't get to play. Actually, in the early days, I really sucked, and hardly ever played at all. But, every once in a while, the coach would put me in when we were ahead 22-2 in the last inning, although he told me not to swing because he said I'd just strike out. One time, I thought I'd prove him wrong and swing. He was right. I struck out.

I used to cry in private after those games, just wishing that I could be not as good as the best kids, but just good enough to play. I worked harder and practiced more, and as I matured, I got better. Better enough to play first string at most any sport I tried.

And then it happened. Youth sports became socialism. Rules were created mandating that every one had to play. Some leagues didn't even keep score during the game for fear of demoralizing the losing players. But what about the players that would have won? No, "Hip, hip, hoorays" allowed. Player were only allowed to shake hands and say, "Good game" to their rivals. Everyone got the identical trophy at the end of the season, no matter how they played.

And it goes beyond sports today. Most every school student elevates to the next grade level regardless of his performance, because it is too embarrassing for them to be held back a grade. It's all about giving praise and treating everyone equal.

And it's into parenting. We're all into this socialism crap so deep that we can't even see what it is. Many parents and grandparents (sometimes even me) treat the kids equally no matter what. They each get the same dollar value for gifts without consideration of the the age or need of the kid. They are often given the same weekly allowance regardless of their behavior, or how well they did their chores. The kids are seldom held accountable for their bad decisions.

Well, things don't seem to be working. While there are lots of hugs and praise going on, kids suffering from low self esteem, now more than ever, go to campus and kill their classmates and teachers. Some kill their parents, and many just kill themselves.

Should we be giving more trophies and hugs, or have we been going off in the wrong direction for the last two decades?

You decide. I'll be at the Thought Dock.
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Making The Grade

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A Follower in Texas sent me this and I thought I'd pass it on. I did shorten it up a bit, hopefully without distorting the message.

An economics class at Texas Tech told their professor that they believed socialism works because it ensures that no one would be rich and no one would be poor. The professor, as an experiment, applied socialism to his teaching method to show the class the effects of socialism.

The professor then told the class that all grades would be averaged and everyone would receive the same grade. No one would fail and no one would receive an A.

The grades from the first test were averaged and everyone got a B. The students who studied hard were upset and the students who studied little were happy.
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On the second test, the students who studied little had studied even less and the ones who studied hard decided they wanted a free ride too; so they studied little. The second test average was a D! No one was happy.

The 3rd test average was an F. All failed, to their great surprise. The professor told them that socialism would also ultimately fail because when the reward is great, the effort to succeed is great; but when reward is taken away; no one will try or want to succeed. Could not be any simpler than that.
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Well, maybe there is more to Texas than beautiful women, country music, Nascar, and bow legged cowboys!
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Blowing In The Wind

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Can someone help a brudda out? These questions have troubled me for most of my life. They might have simple answers, perhaps too simple for my mind.

So, why does a carton of orange juice cost less than the bag of oranges needed to make it yourself? And why is canned corn cheaper than the four ears it takes to fill it?

Why do wood chips and sawdust cost more by weight compared to a nice straight two by four? Aren't the chips just waste from processing the board?

Or, how can a huge public bus bellowing a plume of black smoke to carry it's 36 passengers be greener than 6 smaller cars carrying six passengers each? Or, how can a gigantic diesel locomotive pulling a few commuter cars with 50 passengers each be efficient?

Why does deisel cost more than premium gasoline when it is easier to refine?

And, would the headlights from a plane travelling at the speed of light illuminate another plane in front of it that was also travelling at the speed of light?

For me, the answer my friend, is blowin' in the wind.
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Peter, Paul, Mary,and Tied Dyed Clothing

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I always thought the Kennedy's states on the Right Coast were liberal, second only to San Francisco. But I think this beach is right in there with them.

Oregon has it's very own PBS Station and last week aired four full hours of Peter, Paul, and Mary. I never realized they had sung so many songs. You probably have heard them all, and likely liked most of them, but I was never their fan. They are at the top of the liberal list, and this State loves them.

This Land of Honolee loves President Obummer. He was an overwhelming favorite by an incredible 87%. We have Martin Luther King Boulevards everywhere even though we have only a 1% Black population. And we celebrated Rosa Parks and Cesar Chavez' birthdays.

Few here drive foreign cars, wear make up, brush their teeth, or shave. A saying here is that the police have difficulty identifying corpses due to the lack of dental records. Many of the 65 and older crowd are stuck in '65 and still smoke dope, and wear tied dyed clothing of all sorts. Folk music seems to prevail, with Country a distant second. Weekend street fairs are eveywhere selling home made jewelry, musical instruments, home raised veggies, and Quail eggs.

One of the biggest funerals ever in Eugene occurred when a homeless person died in his sleep on a chilly night a few months ago. And at a town hall meeting that I attended last month, most people seemed to favor additional funding of homeless shelters over funding the jail system.

And during the construction of our home, twice a heavy equipment operator stopped his $350hr excavator to rescue a lizard from the shovel and hand carry him to the safety of the lake.

Finally, with tonight's local news, I learned that this State does not believe a human life begins until the newborn takes it's first breath. Therefore, the lady that lured a pregnant woman to her home through Craigslist, killed her, then cut her unborn child from her womb to keep it for herself, only to have both mother and child die, can not be tried for the double murder.

Where have all the flowers gone? So far, I am safe at the Thought Dock. But if any of you know where I can get a used cannon from Army surplus, I'd surely be interested. I have just the place for it.
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A Different Beach

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People here are mostly retired. The population has stayed about 10k for the last ten years, and I don't think it will grow much in the next ten. There is little work here, and most of those that do work are in the service fields.

The are few youth (111 graduating high school this year), and jobs for them are nill. Most of them just move to another city where the salaries and opportunities are better when they finish school, leaving behind the Golden Aged ones. On the weekends and through the summer, the young people return in droves to play at the beach, ride the dunes in buggies, and to fish the many lakes and rivers. I like that.

I've hung with the older crowd throughout my life. But here, most of our friends are much older than us, not by just a few years, but some by decades. And that takes a bit getting used to.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love this place and the friends that we have made. But rather than conversations about work and play, our social conversations now seem to be centered on the financial or medical issues facing us. I know, that's actually good for me as it will help to prepare us for the inevitable, but it is different for me.

It is tough sometimes to deal with those issues all the time. Just since we moved here, two neighbors, and a good friend have passed away. That's something that I'm not accustomed to. I know that as I age further, it will become more and more frequent though.

This place is a lifestyle change for us. I'm now more patient while waiting for the food to be served promptly or correctly while dining out. My driving has become even more defensive now with so many older persons on the street. Well, at least I never hear the other driver's ghetto blaster wailing out some rap music.

My blood pressure is normal now, anf I'm a lot fatter. Naps are getting common, but I laugh a bit more. Even the Thought Dock is so very different, but that's what really keeps me going.
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Don't Tread On Me

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You know? I've really changed after having been an enforcer for 33 years. Here is my new attitude.

I really don't care what you do as long as you are old enough to make a conscience decision, and what you do doesn't affect me. So, if you are capable of making a decision, do what you want, but don't bother me.

You see, I no longer care if you drink yourself to sleep every night, or if you load up on dope. I don't care if you won't wear a seatbelt or a helmet, jump from a cliff tethered by a rubber band, or just jump to your death. I don't care if you are Gay, or wear tie dyed T-shirts, or if you beg on the streets; just don't rub these things in my face. If you worship Buddah, or are a Muslim, that's OK, but just don't push your crap on me.

Now, as a Christian, If I'm in a position to help with your vices, I will. But if I can't get through to you, I'll let go. My life will go on, but yours might not, and I won't care. It's your choice.

I wouldn't care if the government made dope free. Just pile it out on the corner, and let the fools come and get it. That would quickly sove the dope problem because all those fools would soon die. And we'd be better off.

We don't need laws to force people from doing their thing, in their own house. We don't need to tax cigarettes and liquor, or use those taxes to save those same idiots. We only need laws to keep those idiots away from those of us that live respectfully. We only need laws to protect us from the idiots and creeps, like Speeding, DUI, Robbery, and such.

I've come to realize all this because I have found myself at the Thought Dock. All alone, away from all of those creeps doing their thing. All alone and finally at peace.
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Well - Since You Asked

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Thank you all for participating in last week's discussions and posting your vote in the poll. Actually, the results of the poll were not quite what I thought they would be. Did any of you change your mind as the postings and comments progressed? It was a really debatable subject and many views were discussed.

OK, since some have asked, and I know you all are wondering, I'll put my personal views on record.

Three decades ago, when Equal Opportunity evolved into Affirmative Action, I was easily convinced that it was the right way to go. It appeared then, that many minorities were not being hired or promoted simply because they were not White. And to me, that had to be discrimination. So, I bought into it all.

Now, after seeing the issue from the employer's point of view as a manager during my last 10 years, I see things quite differently. Any employer wants to hire what he believes to be the best possible employee, because the employee is a critical ingredient to his success. I really don't think the employer really cares whether he hires a Black, Jew, Female, or anything else, as long as he/she is best for the company.

I believe an employer has the absolute right to hire who he wants, without any forced mandates. After all, it is his business, and he should have the right to run it however he pleases. Imagine what would occur if Major League baseball were forced to hire 44% women, or professional basketball was forced to reduce their Black stars to 18% to be more in line with American demographics. Or a landscape company in LA forced to hire Blacks, when many people think Asians make the best gardeners. What about hiring that White cook for a Chinese diner, or for a Louisiana Barbecue? Would you like a doctor to treat your cancer if he/she were not the best, but given the job only because of their color or gender?

Let's face it. We are all not equal. We each have our own individual strengths and weaknesses.
Affirmative Action attempts to make us all equal. Just a bunch of drones. Why have a selection process at all? Why not just a lottery system? Well, that's what AA is and does. And that is socialism.

Have you ever compared the efficiency of a small business, not governed by AA, to most any civil service entity in your area? You can bet your butt, that if my wife and I ever get that small business we've often talked about, we will hire only the best available, even if he/she were a minority.
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And that's my Thought from the Dock.
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Welcome To This World

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Who:..Isabella Sophia G.
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What:..Our Sixth Grandchild-The 3rd Grand Daughter
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Compliments Of:..Michael and Lara G.
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When:..June 03, 2009
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Where:.. Tarzana, California

Well, isn't she beautiful? My wife seems to think she looks like her. Well, then she must be beautiful! Actually, I think she looks like me...But that can't be. But, after I get her to the Thought Dock, she will think just like me! I do see the father's line in her nose, but I see Mom most everywhere else. Look at her hair. So thick and full. No Daddy there!

Truly a gift from God. Congrats Mike and Lara!

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Summin' Things Up - Vote Now

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Well, that was fun. I enjoyed sharing the LAPD stories with you along the subject of Affirmative Action. I also enjoyed your comments! I knew it was a sensitive issue when I began, but honestly, I didn't expect so much discussion from the Followers. I hope you all enjoyed the posts as much as I did. I did try very hard to describe the actual incidents factually, and without a bias or spin, although you all know, I do have bias and spin, and I've got my own opinion that will reflect in the poll. Rest assured, I'll only vote one time like every one else.

In conclusion, I leave you with this last tidbit. Several White New Your City Firefighters have taken their grievances to the Supreme Court. They claim, that although they tested highest on a promotional exam, the City passed them over in favor of Black candidates. Initially, they won their case in State Court, but recently Judge Sonia Sotomayor, reversed that decision. Perhaps some of you know that President Obumer has appointed Sotomayor to the United States Supreme Court and she is awaiting confirmation. The confirmation hearings are what prompted the discussion about Affirmative Action this past week. So, Sotomayor might get to hear the case again if she gets confirmed.

Please review the prior posts and the discussions that followed as comments. I would then like you to take the poll. I know a few of you have all ready voted, but I can't change that. If, you are one that voted prematurely, and after reading the entire week's posts and comments, you want to change your vote, please let me know,and I will find a way to let you do that, even if I have to create a new poll. I am very interested in determining how you guys really feel about the subject.

Thanks to everyone that contributed. I'll give you a break for a while and return to a less serious topic for a bit. While you are waiting for the controversial stuff to reurn, be sure to watch Fox News every moment that you can. Doing so will keep your Bp up while you wait for me.

Just another idea from the Thought Dock..
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Out of Reach

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In 1973, at just under 5ft-9in, I was the shortest police officer to ever be assigned to the now infamous Rampart Division. Although 5-8 was the minimum height then, all the Rampart cops were giants because that was the toughest police precinct in the world. Many times I thought I'd never survive the fight while I wished I was 2 feet taller.

In about 1978, after transferring to a slower division, I met Tina. She had just graduated from the academy and was assigned to work with my old partner, Tim. Some of you have met him, although not by that name.

Well, Affirmative Action had been in place for several years by then. And unknown to me, they had reduced the height/weight requirement for hiring. Tina was a very cute and personable person, but I don't think she was five feet tall or even weighed 90 pounds. She was the tinyist police officer I had ever seen. As a side note, I realized that she could not reach the officer's message clip board, and there was a note hanging there for her. So, being the helpful person that I am, I attached a long string leading downward from the note with a sign attached to the end reading, "Pull here to remove." Got chewed out for that one.

Tina forced change to the LAPD. Due to her petite size, she would move the seat in the police car all the way forward in order to reach the pedals. That would cause Tim to ride shotgun with his knees against his chest. Tom asked for help and the LAPD purchased it's first police cruiser with bucket seats. From that day forward, we had bucket seats.

One night Tim and Tina encountered an obnoxious homeless wino in an alley. He was just the typical wino type, usually drunk, but harmless. Tim had dealt with him before many times. But this time, the wino went berserk and attacked Tim, knocking him to the ground. The wino pinned Tim on his back and beat him repeatedly. Tina, tried to pull him off, but couldn't. She called for assistance, then began hitting the wino with her baton, to no avail. The wino ripped Tim's gun from his holster and Tim begged him not to shoot. Tina ended the near tragedy with a single gunshot to the wino's head.

It was the first shooting involving a female police officer in LAPD history. Tina was hailed as a hero for saving Tim's life. Tim didn't quite see it that way and was troubled by the killing for the rest of his career. Tim told me as he teared up while drinking a beer, that although the wino was about to shoot him, there was no reason that the incident progressed to that state. He believed that had Tina had sufficient size and strength, the wino would have never had to die. Tim never returned to working the streets, but Tina went on to achieve new heights in rank with the Department.

As more and more protected classes found their way on the job, more things changed. And I won't say that any of those things were bad. Bucket seats, power steering, and air conditioning were great changed that everyone benefited, although they didn't contribute to the car's safety, or performance during a pursuit, which is what's really important. So were new, separate locker rooms, weight rooms, showers, and toilets for the protected class. But gone were the days of mandating physical fitness and self defence training. Instead, pepper spray, and more powerful guns were issued, as the job got more dangerous. Rodney King resulted not from a bunch of racist cops, but by under trained cops not proficient with their weapons at hand, or their wrestling skills.

What say you? Can we post some blame for the death of that wino, or the beating of Rodney King, on Affirmative Action? Now, don't give up on this subject. There is only one more post related to this series to follow. And don't forget to vote when it's all said and done.
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Entry Level Orals

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The first step toward becoming a police officer in Los Angeles is to pass a written examination. The second was an oral interview, the only portion of the process that the candidate is given a weighted score, as all the other sectors are pass/fail. Next comes a background check, physical ability test, and a mental evaluation, but not necessarily in that order. Once a month for the last 10 years of my career, I sat on the interview board for new police officer candidates.

I chaired a three member interview board for entry level oral interviews once a month during my last 10 years of service. The remaining board members were professional civilians selected from the community.

Now, it used to be that a candidate was ranked for hiring by the score he/she obtained in the oral interview process, highest first, providing they passed the other screening tests. But that changed with Affirmative Action. Since AA, protected classes of candidates can be selected for employment, regardless of their interview score (as long as they achieve a 70% or better), in any order, if the LAPD is still behind on achieving their parity goal. In essence, that means a non-protected class with a higher interview score, may have to wait while protected classes with lower scores are hired. And this concept carried into promotions and specialized assignments as well.

Well even this couldn't provide enough protected class hiring. It was determined that many of the protected class applicants could not pass a background check, the physical ability test, or show adequate work experience. So, LAPD reduced or eliminated these requirements all together. You can now be accepted as an officer if you have a prior history of narcotic use, been involved with gangs, had theft, DUI, and misdemeanor assault convictions. The mental (ink blot) test was eliminated and the physical ability test was lowered so that most anyone that could breathe without a wheezing while walking would qualify. And bonuses were awarded for things like speaking a foreign language, so some candidates that couldn't score a 70 in their interview because they didn't speak English well enough, actually were raised to the qualification level because of the bonus. You no longer have to show a history of applicable work experience, so selling chocolate dipped bananas from your unlicensed food cart in the park, is good enough.

So how does this affect the overall big picture? Your comments are welcome. Still blurry for you. I've given a few real examples with the prior post, but some more will be detailed in the next. Some of you like this crap, others think I'm full of crap. But all this crap provokes Thought from the Dock.
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