Not a Step

 

Yesterday I was prepping for my semi-annual task to clean the gutters.  Out came the trash bag to line the garbage can, my gutter scoop which neatly fits inside the trough and removes debris very efficiently, my gloves, and the folding ladder.

 

I dutifully dragged all this stuff to my starting point – the rear of the house.  It was a pleasant day with temps in the low 70’s, and humidity at a comfortable 54%.  This was a better fishing day than gutter cleaning day anyway you looked at it.  But I digress.

 

Stripers would be moving down the coast following the warmer water for their annual spawn.  Examples in the 48-inch range, weighing upwards of 35 pounds could be expected from the surf.  However I was cleaning gutters.  But I digress, again.

 

With all the tools at the ready, and my sainted wife at hand prepared to give me pointers about how to better do a job she’s never actually performed herself, I was geared up to begin the task.

 

Upon grabbing the ladder – it is a newer folding aluminum type that weighs nearly as much as a Buick, almost as much as me – I couldn’t help but notice the copious labels peppered about the legs, rungs, and that step on top that actually isn’t a step but people step on all the time.

 

I’m sure that’s what all those people in the emergency rooms nationwide are thinking waiting to see a doctor and x-ray technician.

 

In any case, those labels caught my attention this time; I’ve been using this ladder since my sainted wife bought it for me some ten years ago in an attempt to transform herself into an instant widow.  But that is another story for another time.

 

A possible replacement for 
capital punishment use

I began reading these labels written in LARGE RED letters.  I suppose that meant this label was important, but no more important than the other 17 permanently afixed labels.

 

Of course most of these warnings neatly fit into the category of “common sense.”  Then you must remember who is buying and using these ladders.

 

Warnings such as not propping the metal ladder against electrical power lines, using it on a trampoline, not having more than one idiot on the ladder at one time, and not to step on that top step that’s not a step.

 

Then, my mind began drifting to real-life situations.

 

My mind stopped on Dr. Anthony Fauci, an American physician and immunologist.  You may have heard of him as the guy who the United States relied upon to cure some little-known flu, COVID-19, now a pandemic.

 

In the early stages of this terrible flu, Dr. Fauci insisted we, as a populace, follow specific rules and regulations as directed by knowledgeable doctors, himself included.

 

He claimed we could avoid getting COVID-19 if we washed our hands for 20-seconds.  He insisted masks were not going to help, as did the United States Surgeon General.

 

It was about two-months later that revealed Dr. Fauci recanted and insisted we wear masks to stop the spread of this invisible terror.  And we did.  And we distanced ourselves six-feet from one another to avoid spreading the COVID.

 

But that didn’t help, either.  We were amid a presidential election during this time, and President Donald Trump’s challenger, Joseph Biden, proudly announced how he would end this disease once and for all.

 

Biden verbally poked President Trump by insisting The President killed 220,000 Americans.  Of course he didn’t.  But the mainstream media pretended they were deaf and said and did nothing to refute Biden.

 

Biden’s recipe for a cure was to make everyone wear a mask.  He said that if elected, he would mandate that mask wearing, and with sleight of hand, he insisted he could keep it under control.

 

For the record, Smokey the Cat thought that was a stupid statement even for Biden.  Still, the populace loved it and turned out in record numbers to vote for him (wink, wink).

 

The sad part is that after national lockdowns, month-long quarantines, and social distancing for roughly eleven months, record numbers of COVID contractions are being reported.

 

This is, in fact, an ideal situation for America and hopelessly stupid Americans.

 

If Joseph Robinette Biden winds-up being elected our 46^th President, he will have a golden opportunity to test his mask-wearing theory on Americans from coast-to-coast.

 

As an aside, while I was at a Tallmart the other day, I noticed countless zombies with their obligatory masks strategically placed under their chins, and beneath their noses.  I suppose they believe air does not enter and escape from their nostrils.  Alas.

 

In any case, comparing my gutter cleaning episode to Dr. Fauci’s and Joe Biden’s mask fiats, I got the job done by using common sense and taking a chance by standing on the top ladder step that was not designed to be stepped on.

 

Life is not risk-free. 

 

I’m still alive after months of political bullying.  And so are you.  Think about that.

Rosie Ruiz winning the Boston Marathon - almost

 Today we’re beginning with a trip in the Wavelength Acceleration Bidirectional Asynchronous Controller, also known as the WABAC Machine, pronounced ‘wayback.’

 

The WABAC has taken countless people throughout trips in cartoon history, mainly in the Mr. Peabody toons which looked at Improbable History via this time travel device.

 

It is the spring of 1980, Boston, Massachusetts, and the annual Boston Marathon has just ended.

 

A 26-year old woman, Rosie Ruiz, a Cuban immigrant, finished first in the women’s division in near-record time.  This incredible feat left the throngs of marathon fans and participants awestruck.  Having a relative unknown finish that well in such a major race spoke volumes.

 

She was quickly ushered to the presenter’s podium for placement of the traditional laurel wreath upon her head when it was noticed Ruiz was not even sweating.  Although physically appearing weak, her hair was still well-coiffed, and her complexion was not strained red from the 26-mile run.

 

One can only imagine the diversity-identity crowds cheering for the winning woman, the Latina, or the Cuban transplant – you fill-in-the-blank.

 

News organizations were agog and her photo was splashed across major newspapers and magazines, alike.  She was our new hero, uh, heroine.  Yeah!

 

Unfortunately, some busy-bodies stuck their nosy noses where they didn’t belong.  Witnesses came forward to identify Ruiz as a subway rider during the Marathon.  It seems as though she climbed aboard the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (MBTA) wearing her running clothes and sporting her registration number pinned thereon.

 

She explained to her fellow passengers that she sprained her ankle during the early part of the race and had quit.

 

But quit she did not.  Rather, she disembarked the subway a few blocks away from the finish line, only to join the runners approaching the end.  Her timing was impeccable as she slipped into the dwindled pack of remaining athletes to luckily finish first.

 

Following an inquiry, Ruiz admitted to her abbreviated run, cut from 26-miles to roughly one.  An in-depth inquisition revealed Ruiz was a participant in a similar scam during the New York City Marathon, too.  Her legal troubles continued throughout her life with theft and narcotics arrests which only cemented her life of woe.

 

Rosie Ruiz came to mind when I picked up this morning’s newspaper.  Its headline proudly announced that Joe Biden had won the general election against incumbent President Donald Trump.

 

This was baffling to me as all the states had yet to complete their tallying of the voting ballots.  It seems there are allegations of cheating by counting incomplete ballots, late ballots, and non-postmarked ballots.

 

Gloating throngs have been gathering in the streets of New York City, Philthydelphia, Atlanta, and Detroit, cheering the presumed loss of the election by President Trump.

 

Shenanigans abounded back in 1980 as in 2020.  Although not as critical as the presidential contest, the Boston Marathon is an important component in tradition and history of American competitiveness.

 

 The Presidential election is much more important to the mechanics of a free nation than a sporting event; it is the pavement on which a nation moves smoothly from day-to-day.  And any disruption, either accidental or intentional, significantly disturbs that trip through history.

 

Let’s wait until the final count is in before Rosie Ruiz, uh, Joe Biden is called for taking the subway to the finish line.

 

Free Advice

 

Election Day is November 3^rd, 2020.  Many, many pundits have been seemingly endlessly telling you for whom you should vote.  I will not do that.

 

But today I’m suggesting you NOT vote for Joseph Robinette Biden and his running mate Kamala Harris.

 

If you are still undecided, your vote should be taken away.  I’m just saying.

Waterboard Me, Please!

This recycled story is from November 2019, and will hopefully entertain you with a brief smile until a new posting next week.  Please enjoy.

 

My school grades one through eight were spent in a parochial institution of learning for wise guys.  Sure there were girls that attended classes with us, but they, too, were equally guilty of driving the teaching nuns crazy.

 

Back then we didn’t learn about having abortions or protesting civil matters or demanding action for climate change.  Rather, we studied such inane things as geography, history, arithmetic, foreign languages, art, and English.

 

We were expected to excel at all of these disciplines with the addition of homework that needed to be addressed at home, hence the name.  The main reason for this was to see how much our parents knew, and whether or not they would help us with these extracurricular assignments.

 

Two different times required me asking my parents for help; one was for my Polish class, the other was for my arithmetic class.

 

Since both my parents and grandparents spoke fluent Polish, their help was certainly instrumental in getting a good grade in that class.

 

It was during my arithmetic class, however, that nerves and familial ties were threatened.

 

My Dad was a machinist, by trade, who used fractions every day, all day.  My Mom was a housewife who excelled at taking care of the family, but didn’t need to know much about math except for making change and during cooking.

 

One day, I remember coming home from school with what I, in the third grade remember like I remember the thorough disciplinary beatings I received from my Dad.

 

We were trying to get though something called “fractions.”

 

It seems as though fractions are a way to test the cohesiveness of families, and secretly conduct a comprehensive analysis of the intelligence of a student’s immediate relatives.

 

After nearly sixty-years, I still recall that day just as if it was hours old.  Sister Agnes began drawing a circle on the blackboard.  As an aside, a blackboard was what us old relics wrote on before whiteboards were invented.

 

Sister Agnes made that circle nearly perfect before drawing a line straight down the middle; the class carefully duplicated her every move.

 

She turned toward the class and told us that each side was one-half.  She then turned away to secretly take a sip from what appeared to be a silver hip flask similar to that of my Grandpapa.

 

More lines were drawn and more sips were taken.  And with each line, the class became more baffled, to the point where we all needed a sip from that flask.

 

My crude circle with lines made its way home with me.  When my Dad finished his dinner, he asked how school was, and then asked the question for which he was sorry the rest of his life.

 

“Do you have any homework?”

 

After a few tears of failure streamed from my eyes, I produced the papers upon which the infamous circles and lines were scribbled.  “Fractions,” I whispered.

 

My Dad didn’t have much in the way of patience, so I knew this was going to be tough.

 

He produced fresh paper and a pencil and began with the circles again.  Again.  And again.

 

He kept drawing circles and lines.  And each circle got larger, as if it would be easier for me to comprehend it if they were more visible.

 

It didn’t take long before he ran out of both paper and patience.

 

My tears reappeared and my Dad became more contemplative.

 

After a break, he returned with scissors and more paper and a magic marker.  The paper became a pie.  He snipped long the thick, black lines, and eventually we had ourselves a two-dimensional pie with numerous slices.

 

As he reassembled the paper pie, the varying slices made more sense as ¼, ½, ¾, and one whole pie.

 

He even taught me how turn ¼ into 0.25 – fractions into decimals.  After all, that was his job as a machinist.

 

Success, at last!  But then I was diappointed because my Dad didn’t let me have a sip from his silver hip flask.  Alas.

Vote Wisely

In case you are not one of the roughly 24,000,000 people who have already voted for the president, I need you to be aware of something important.

 

Practically daily, candidate Joseph Robinette “Plugs” Biden utters another inane statement that should be taken into account before you vote.  Another important point is that over the past week, information has been bubbling about Plugs and his involvement with both the Ukrainians and Chinese governments.

 

It should come as no surprise that both the Ukrainians and Chinese are corrupt governments run by corrupt leaders.

 

Ukraine was front and center in the news since the election of President Donald Trump in 2016.  Speaking of corrupt, U.S. Congressguy Adam Schiff has been over-enthused about Ukraine and its leaders, and an association betwixt the Trump administration and Ukraine and Russia, for some years now.

 

Not to beat a dead horse, Schiff has been singing the same tired song about President Trump being in collusion with the Ukrainians, because he hates both President Trump and his followers.

 

Special commissions, hearings, investigations as well as Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) intrusions, have been a constant in an effort to  exact revenge and ire upon the Trump administration, to no avail.

 

Although the proverbial deck was stacked against President Trump, no evidence was found that could implicate him in anything as smarmy and illegal as Schiff has been involved.

 

All the while, the Democrats were carefully selecting a new candidate to run against President Trump during the upcoming 2020 election.  After a comical field of idiots and racists were paraded around for our scrutiny, the Democrat Party selected Plugs Biden.

 

I’ll wait until you finish laughing.

 

Biden, who has genuine trouble speaking off-the-cuff, continues to speak off-the-cuff with familiar disastrous results.  He forgets where he is, what position for which he is running, names of associates, and he even fails to recognize his wife.

 

His problems may only worsen – even though the mainstream media and social media, alike, are ardently protecting him – because of his son, Hunter.  It seems as though Hunter has been the recipient of quite a job coup with both the Ukrainians and Chinese.

 

Those same people Comrade Schiff interviewed and investigated for evidence on President Trump, are now found to be in collusion with Hunter and his Dad.  Monies of Hunter’s salaries number in the nose-bleed arena of $83,000 per month, from Ukraine.

 

Chinese influence brings the amount to well-over $10,000,000, for a guy whose only asset is his last name.  Stevie Wonder could clearly see this is influence peddling, but Representative Schiff sees otherwise.

 

Schiff, once again, sees Russian involvement on behalf of President Trump and his re-election.  Talk about poor judgment by voters.  But I digress.

 

In any case, neither Biden nor Trump has cinched the election yet.  And this added-value information should be enough to sway the minds of honest voters – the ones who repeatedly cry for truthful candidates who will be straightforward with their constituents.

 

Those 24,000,000 already voted crowd members are SOL.  Something tells me it wouldn’t matter to them anyway.  But I digress, again.

 

But here’s more information that usually doesn’t reach the voters until after the election, the truth.

 

This is the position of the Biden/Harris ticket as printed in the official Democratic Party Platform for 2020:

• Ban the manufacture and sale of assault weapons and high-capacity magazines.
• End online sales of guns and ammunition.
• Ensure [that] the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention “have sufficient resources to study gun violence as a public health issue.”
• Enact universal background checks.
• Halt the safety valve that allows would-be gun buyers to receive a firearm after a background check has stalled out for more than three days.
• Require guns be safely stored in homes.
• Push for states to enact licensing requirements for owning firearms.
• Incentivize states to implement extreme risk protection order (ERPO) laws.
• Prioritize repealing the law that shields gun manufacturers from lawsuits.

 

If you don’t want the ability to protect yourself, and you believe the police will be defunded, and the Second Amendment will be repealed or over-ridden by Executive Order, and you think you might enjoy being enslaved by a Socialist government, please vote for Joseph Robinette “Plugs” Biden.

Random Thoughts VII

 

Here’s another round of the ever-popular Random Thoughts.  Please enjoy this list and feel free to share it with your friends and enemies.

 

• If America wants to end Fentanyl drug overdoses, it should stop administering Narcan.
• Newspapers should change their names to Collusion and Impeachment Rags.
• We need to invent a word that rhymes with “orange.”
• Why does a Hyundai resemble the Jaguar?
• How does one milk an almond?  They don’t have teats.
• President Trump is referred to as Racist, Bigot, Misogynist, and Stupid; why wasn’t President Obama referred to as a Post Turtle?
• Nothing rhymes with “silver,” either.
• I detest mimes.
• Without the Second Amendment, you wouldn’t have the First Amendment.
• I prefer my grapes in a bottle with a cork.
• Brainwashing is alive and well in the climate change arena.
• Thank God for Greta Thunberg; suddenly I look intelligent.
• Who writes and approves new television shows?  They should be embarrassed.
• Does anyone really care if a pumpkin is a squash?
• President Donald Trump is the BEST.
• If Adam Schiff doesn’t take medications, he should.
• The Accomack County Sheriff’s Office puts the stupid employees on the phone.
• Is CNN still on the air?
• I carry a gun because it’s so much easier than carrying a cop.
• Vote the Senate and House deadwood out of office.  Forty-years are much too long to grow roots.
• Why does Glock have 39 versions of the same pistol?
• Thank goodness for syphilis; it actually makes Jerry Nadler appear palatable.
• I no longer engage in fantasy football; I now wager on the Democratic presidential nomination.
• Hooray for Elizabeth Warren!  Take all of Bernie Sanders’ and Michael Bloomberg’s money!
• I still hate mimes.
• Why do cemeteries have fences and locked gates?
• If cannibals ate a clown, would it taste funny?
• Joe Biden has been in government for 46-years, Bernie Sanders for 29, and Liz Warren 19.  That proves the government is designed to hire the unhireable,
• The New York Giants should start playing baseball; they might be better at that sport.
• If you want to be a vegetarian, great.  Leave me alone, though.
• Where would one buy a stripper pole?
• Why would I buy an electric car?  I can’t keep a battery in my non-electric car.
• I believe the Democratic Party should change its name to Angry Nitwits Party.
• Former President Barack Hussein Obama looks stupider every day.
• Saint Hillary Clinton should have her portrait carved into Mt. Rushmore.
• I was kidding about the previous point.
• Whatever you want to make me aware of, I’m not interested in.  Thanks, though.
• Is Maxine Waters still alive?  If so, is she lucid?
• Why are there cooking schools?  My wife never attended one and cooks just great.
• God bless President Donald Trump!

Post Turtle Barack Obama
He doesn't belong there, and
no one knows how he got there.

Economics 102

What a pepperoni pizza should look like

The reason there are so many ads is because those advertisers need to sell their products.  When your product sells well you don’t need to advertise.  When your product doesn’t sell, you usually resort to bombarding the airwaves with annoying ads.

If you ever watched television or listened to the radio you may have noticed commercial advertisements occupy roughly one-third of every hour of airtime.

 

Ads are vehicles to make a product more attractive to the average person.  Transforming people into consumers is an art, frequently proven by Madison Avenue-types that can persuade you to buy adult diapers and automobile car mats.

 

Quality products don’t necessarily require ads in order to sell.  Take Rolls Royce, for example.  I have never heard or seen a sales blurb for a Silver Cloud, likely because they normally sell well without the cost of marketing.

 

Many, many years ago, my sainted wife and I found ourselves with enough extra cash to buy not only a pizza, but a pizza delivered, with extra toppings.

We heard regular ads about Domino’s on television.  Being over twenty-years ago, I don’t recall the particulars of the promotions, only that their pies looked yummy, steaming, and chock full o’ pepperoni and other goodies.

We called to place the order, and about a half-hour later it arrived.

 

 
 

Upon opening the box we immediately noticed this large pizza had only two pieces of pepperoni thereon.  Two.  Only two.

 

Being a rare occasion ordering food delivered, we were taken aback.  Taken aback enough for me to call for a ruling on toppings.

 

On the other end of the phone was an unapologetic douchebag who clearly told me if I didn’t care for Domino’s pizzas, not to buy anymore.  Amen.

 

I didn’t.  In fact, after 20-years, I’ve never bought anything from Domino’s.  By the way, if Domino’s sold artificial hearts, and I desperately needed one, I’d go without before patronizing Domino’s ever again.  Amen.

 

In these past 20-years, I’ve seen countless ads for Domino’s.  And I’ll wager it’s not because they can’t keep pizzas in stock; rather it’s likely they can’t give them away.

 

As an aside, we gravitated toward Papa John’s for pizza.  While in Florida, we called Papa John – I don’t believe we spoke to the actual Papa John, though – for a pizza.

 

Again, it was as awful as Domino’s.  My sainted wife wrote a thoughtful letter to Papa John’s regarding the terrible food we received and the lack of post-sale empathy.

 

She is still waiting for a apologetic response seven-years later; I don’t think she’s going to get one.

 

The reason for such awful food and treatment of their customers reaches far beyond pizza joints.  Businesses such as Sears, Montgomery Ward, K-Mart, Radio Shack, and a host of others, ignored their customer complaints, too.

 

All this leads me to point out the fact that private corporations need to turn a profit.  Without profits, there is no more company.  No company means no jobs and subsequently, no employees.  And aligned therewith, no awful pizza.

 

This is really pretty simple.  Until you begin a conversation about “universal health care.”

 

Often intentionally confused with health insurance, politicians are desperately attempting to acquire complete control over your body and health.  The important word in that last sentence is “control.”

 

No one outside of your immediate family is likely concerned about your health and well-being.  Well, perhaps your doctor and insurance company, but few others.

 

If you give this story some honest consideration you will realize the result of your universal health care will be managed by idiots who could care less about your maladies or life.

 

The antithesis of a private corporation is government.  In direct opposition to profit making is government incompetence and wholesale waste.

 

It will be those same pimply-faced pizza phone answerers who have since weaseled their way into government positions, from secretaries to senators, that will be sassing you when you need help with a chronic illness or life-changing legislation offering you deaf ears.

 

And just as with no resolution of pepperoni shortage, or total lack of communication from some arrogant Papa, your government representative will ignore and belittle you when you want and need them most.

 

Although Domino’s and Papa John’s still spend too much on advertising, and too little on customer care, they remain in business, if only for a short while more.  The government is also totally disinterested in you except for your money.

 

But the government won’t go out of business.  And that’s too bad.