Be Nice To The Countries That Lend You Money.
A cautionary tale perhaps from one of our biggest lenders.

What would George Bailey do? An essay on our troubled financial times.

The wife and I were spending a quiet evening at home, having an intellectual exchange of views on the music of our lives, covering the forties, fifties, sixties and on and on. We were expressing the opinion that the forties, being the most stressful era of our youth, the music was varied and covered the comings and goings of people coping with war. Our musical education expanded from A to A, and one of our favorites was this lovely tune:

NEW RECIPE SITE. Hazel has been cooking for 53 years and has been accumulating recipes in boxes, drawers, filing cabinets, you get the idea. As I get them from her I will post them here. Sorry I don't have them sorted in any manner but that seems like too much of a job. So here they are as I get them. I'm only sorry you can't see the originals with thumb smudges and unknown ingredients attached to the original recipe, but you've all seen old recipes and you know what they look like. As I look at them I see some who, counter to what I've said, are not inexpensive to make, but most of them will be. It had to be when she was feeding three kids, 2 boys and a girl, who could finish off the victuals. Enjoy them as I enjoy looking at them and remembering.

It's in the genes I guess, or perhaps inside the atoms of newly forming testosterone that lead a boy to literature like Call of the Wild or other novels by Jack London. Then there are the poems that boys allow other boys to know they have read. One of those by Robert Service, the Cremation of Sam Magee. Back in the day of radio shows, Sergeant Preston of the Yukon was popular fare for boys whose imaginations were going beyond their hometown out into an unknown world yet to be explored. Alaska seemed to hold a special place in the minds of many boys. They seemed to sense that it took a different kind of man to live in a place so cold and so sparsely populated, a place for men comfortable with themselves and their own thoughts.

Here is a good recitation of THE CREMATION OF SAM MAGEE, by Hank Snow.

Check out this funny site. Happy Thanksgiving. Do your best to overeat. I always do.

I came across a blog that used the subtitle 'opinionated rants', and it seemed like something I would like to on occasion include in the Reader. It could be included under the title of mental health, the saving of. A good rant or a releasing of divergent thoughts about events or people I think might be beneficial, not unlike this mental picture of an old railroad engine releasing steam when reaching its destination. A person like the steam engine can only store up so much and then it needs to release it to cleanse the total persons id. Look for the little man blowing his top and you will know I am doing the same. Even though I vent against someone or something, you must know I usually admire the person for achieving success ten thousand times more than I could even imagine.

OHIO AUTUMN by Charles Rowland. See more by Mr. Rowland at this site.

Our fall foliage has taken on a white covering in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas shopping.

"The physician can bury his mistakes, but the architect can only advise his clients to plant vines." — Frank Lloyd Wright

J C Leyendecker, Kellogg's Toasted Corn Flakes,
"Ask the American Boy Why He Prefers Kellogg's" (1917)

Michigan stadium opens 10-22-27. Michigan wins first of the contests against their arch rival Ohio State, in 1897. Matter of fact they won the first twelve against OSU. Ohio is the dominant team currently and have run off a series of wins, but the rivalry is intense and anything can happen. Kickoff at twelve o'clock. If the game stinks, at least the OSU band playing and marching the script Ohio is worth the time.

My Father Adjusts His Hearing Aids

Once again my old man has gutted his hearing aids.
On the table beside him, around the smallest blade of his pocket knife,

his hearing aids lay scattered like the scrutinized guts of bugs.
Somewhere in those parts—the coils, the discs,

the blue copper veins—somewhere in that chaos lies the riddle
of sound. Now in the dark kitchen he faces the window

where the first stars tremble in the branches of his oaks.
The house is as quiet as a broken watch.

He knows the score—nothing will ever be
repaired again, nothing will ever work as it did. The dumb wind

says as much, and the needles raining in the yard.
The silence around his shoulder is my mother's arm.

David Bottoms

USS IDAHO

She was in Iceland in September to protect American advance bases and was on station at Hvalfjörður when the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941 catapulted America into the war.

This picture was found in Life magazine archives

TALKING TOO MUCH OR NOT ENOUGH

Just when I was thinking that for whatever reason people were becoming more polite, Miss Jane appeared on the scene.

Politeness has been missing from my world for a long time now. It’s not a new wrinkle, but as more wrinkles appear on my face and elsewhere I seem to be more aware of its absence. It is common when dealing with clerks in stores, and has been for years now. Maybe it’s an old people thing that we like to comment on this or that as we are being checked out. But if the clerk is of a certain younger age, which is most likely, I will get, if I am lucky, a brief glance but no words. Since I am a veteran of this behavior I stop my efforts and wait for the wordless clerk to drop my change and receipt in my hand with nary a word to slow down my exit. Now I’m not asking anything from the kid except perhaps some validation that I am still a member of the human race. From a psychobabble page I am sure it has something to do with wanting to make some connections with other members of it. Now I don’t wish to start a war between the youngies and the oldies, but the older clerks, brought out of retirement I am sure because they need extra income, or have become a member of that dreaded widowhood, seem to share the joy of passing a few random comments on the passing scene.

In days long past I believe behavior of clerks or sales representatives was monitored by the management and if it needed friendlied up, they would make sure it got done. They used to think, an old fashioned idea I’m sure, that the clerks represented the store. People like to talk, for some it may be the only person in their day that they will meet. A couple little sentences won’t hurt or cost anything, but it could make some persons day. Perhaps this is a thought that young people cannot grasp yet, but believe me if you are lucky enough to live a long life it will happen to you.

Now back to Miss Jane. This person committed a double faux pas as far as I am concerned. She comes into my house to perform a service and out of her mouth comes the observation that my neighborhood sure has deteriorated. Now do I have to tell you how rude and crass that remark is? Yes it is true what she said, but that does not excuse her saying it, it is an uncaring and uneducated remark to make. First to come into a person’s home and say such a thing is almost the kind of remark that would lead to immediate expulsion from some homes. Second that she would make it to elderly people who have lived in the offending neighborhood for thirty-five years, and are of an age where moving is not on a list of things we want to do and, thirdly to defend my neighborhood, I have gotten older too and I don’t look so good either, and lastly it is again darn rude. Come on folks, on one hand we have people who won’t talk and on the other we have people who talk too much.

Watch supercoolTWY s2e07ohya.avi in Entertainment Videos  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Remember when?

Watching this WONDER YEARS episode took me back to those years of growing up and what misery it sometimes was. The scene where they had fifteen minutes before the first bell rang and the uncertainty of what to do. Should I stand around and not talk? Will I look dorky or unpopular? I remember myself in those moments. Egads I wouldn't mind forgetting that. Well thinking about it now I guess I was a dork no doubt about it. Dork or no dork, I enjoyed my growing up years. My dilemma of standing around in some pose or another was solved when I met the girl I was going to marry. We shared lockers and I was able to drop any concern about hall etiquette and we started conversing and for crying out loud we are still conversing fifty five (?) years later.

Autumn has arrived. Yesterday the sun was shining and it was quite warm. Today it is raining and it has cooled considerably. The weather forecast has the temperature going steadily downwards. The leaves are dropping in droves and soon we will be looking at naked branches. It reminded me of this little poem I wrote a year or two ago about the autumns of my memories.

AUTUMN IS A MELANCHOLY TIME

Autumn is a melancholy time
a time of yellowing and falling
leaves. A time of beauty and
quiet.



Of man and beast preparing to face
winter, the harshest season of all.
The season of silence and introspection
a season to dwell on deep thoughts,
a time to foster friendships deep.



Yeah right!

It’s cold and wet

and stinking nasty.

My feet are cold, my nose is

running faster than my car which

has a frozen radiator.

Ice has formed on all my trees,

and loud snaps threaten me with

the sounds of timber as they

fall and bring my garage to the ground.



Yet it is a serene season,
a season to reflect on all the
good things of nature.



Yeah, right again!

I have many times proclaimed my complete unappreciation, or uneducation, of modern art, Jackson Pollock in particular. I cannot understand people standing back from one of Pollocks works, or to the extreme, standing back from a blank canvas with the title of Snow or White and conversing about what the artists was thinking or some other gibberish.

I saw this in the comics today and firstly thought it was pretty funny and secondly figured it illustrated what I think of the subject.

Appeared in the New York Observer. For those who never watched Star Trek, McCain is depicted as Capt. Kirk, the emotional one; and Obama as Dr. Spock, the unflappable one. But wait. What is that strange hand gesture? Hmmmm.

This has to be McCain's finest moment. His thoughts and concerns had to be on the country and the consequences if he let the dialog continue in the way it was headed. Good for you Senator McCain.

McCain calls Obama 'decent person,' is booed

McCain sort of can't win here.

Parnes reports from Minnesota:

A man in the audience stood up and told McCain he's "scared" of an Obama presidency and who he'd select for the Supreme Court.

"I have to tell you. Sen. Obama is a decent person and a person you don't have to be scared of as president of the United States," McCain said as the crowd booed and shouted "Come on, John!"

"If I didn't think I'd be a heck of a lot better, I wouldn't be running for president of the united states."

If it's not the Times editorial board jeering him, it's his own crowd.

ALSO: Whoa:

A woman at the town hall asks softly: "I've heard that Sen. Obama is an
Arab."

McCain quickly cuts the woman off.

"No, maam. He's a decent family man and citizen," McCain says. "He's
not. Thank you."

NOTE: Some reports from the ground said the woman used the word "terrorist." She didn't.

By Ben Smith 06:09 PM

THE RNC PLANNING GROUP


"Perhaps we could connect him to the attack on Pearl Harbor"
What's that you say? He wasn't born yet.
Does it matter? He was born in Hawaii wasn't he? Suspicious don't you think?

I like poetry, but not all kinds. I like the simple form that pretty much is easy to understand. A little like roses are red etc. but maybe just a little more sophisticated. I ran across this web site by Gene of some poetry he likes including a picture and a little music. Quite enjoyable I thought.

I just like train pictures.

I know you've run across one of these lists before. I know I have. I like this one though because it only requires that I read 30 books before I die, and I have already read three of the first ten. Here is the list. 30 books you should read

I kind of have a handicap though. I am 71 so I'm getting a little late start. On the other hand I have a little advantage to getting it done, I am retired so I can read until my eyes fall out if I wish. I don't of course but I could. You understand all that I'm sure. The eyes will hang in there long enough I think, but my rear end will only allow sitting for so long. I may have to learn to read while I walk. I read somewhere recently and I forget where but it's not that important that this guy couldn't master speed reading so he had to figure out an alternative. He discovered he could read while he walked during the day, so I guess where there's a will there's a way.

While reading these thirty books will come a little late in making me a more rounded person, it will provide satisfaction like crossword puzzles do. It won't include cheerleaders, or bands playing when you enter the field, so I will have to be satisfied with self congratulations. Kind of an empty finish, I was kind of looking forward to the bands and confetti. Oh well, I will report when I have finished the first five books and let you know what I learned from each. I already know that I will report failure on at least one. I know I will not read WAR AND PEACE. Too long and I already attempted that years ago, but I won't again.

This strip reminds me of Bush #1 visiting a super market during one of his campaigns. He had never been there before and it showed how out of touch he was. At least the spinners made it turn out that way.

After the last several days watching and listening to the reasons and speculation about why we're in such dire financial distress, and not understanding much of any of it, I was elated to find this cartoon in the New Yorker. All, or maybe some of my distress went away. Not really but I empathized with the last guy at the table.

I listen to podcasts, so I search for new, different, and fun content.

I found a new one called: DINNER PARTY podcast at the ITUNES STORE. It's from some people in Southern California and it's designed to prep you for attending a dinner party. It tells you a joke you might tell later to your dinner mates, a little history lesson, a little about a mixed drink and whatever else they can stuff into about ten minutes. Here is the web page with the necessary click to get it onto your Ipod if you so desire.

dinner party

Click to enlarge

I spent an enjoyable (I was in the service at the time, so enjoy is a relative term) eighteen months in Japan. We weren't the ugly Americans, but then again I never knew about these customs or unwritten rules. Jeeze, I wonder how many of these don't-do's we did?

POLITICIANS, A word that strikes fear in the hearts of all Americans. I am fairly close to overload with their empty words, promising everyone everything and knowing there is not one ounce of sincerity coming out of those mouths.

Do I need a reason to post paintings by Edward Hopper or a song that would have been called a torch song back in the day, as they now say.

This picture from SHORPY.COM was taken in 1943. She is boiling the diapers. The people writing in were aghast about the baby laying there with no restraints, and other baby dangers in the kitchen. It also goes on to say that the lady had eight kids, and later ran for state legislature from Montana.

During the great depression, that period when the country went south, and I don't mean to Florida, but went into an approximately ten year period of testing the endurance of the people and the institutions, song writers wrote some music that would not have helped much. Listen to these lyrics.

"Brother, Can You Spare a Dime," lyrics by Yip Harburg, music by Jay Gorney (1931)

They used to tell me I was building a dream, and so I followed the mob,
When there was earth to plow, or guns to bear, I was always there right on the job.
They used to tell me I was building a dream, with peace and glory ahead,
Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;
Once I built a tower, now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Why don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?

In my lifetime trains were an omnipresent part my everyday life. I left my home to go away to the Air Force by train. Trains were an alternative mode of transportation to get us where we had to go. Up to recently I awoke sometimes to the sounds of train activity from across our town. Through most of my life in our town and most other towns you could not go from one side to another without having to wait for a passing train. I miss them and wish they would make a comeback. In these troubled times of energy crisis springing up frequently it might be a good idea.

This poem written by W.H. Auden in the thirties brings back memories of the day of the train, and also in stanza three another activity that has in fact disappeared into memory, and that is letter writing. The letters we used to write with pen and ink. I was never very good at it, and in fact much prefer email, but you have to admit getting a letter on paper, written in ink, and sent in a stamped envelope means something a whole lot different. You were receiving something personal, it felt that way, and in some romantic instances it even smelled nice. Email can't do that.

Anyways, I miss those days, I suppose because it is part of my past. You understand.



NIGHT TRAIN

by W.H. Auden (1907 - 1973)

This is the Night Mail crossing the border, Bringing the cheque and the postal order, Letters for the rich, letters for the poor, The shop at the corner and the girl next door. Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb: The gradient's against her, but she's on time. Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder Shovelling white steam over her shoulder, Snorting noisily as she passes Silent miles of wind-bent grasses. Birds turn their heads as she approaches, Stare from the bushes at her blank-faced coaches. Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course; They slumber on with paws across. In the farm she passes no one wakes, But a jug in the bedroom gently shakes. II Dawn freshens. Her climb is done. Down towards Glasgow she descends Towards the steam tugs yelping down the glade of cranes, Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen. All Scotland waits for her: In the dark glens, beside the pale-green sea lochs Men long for news. III Letters of thanks, letters from banks, Letters of joy from the girl and the boy, Receipted bills and invitations To inspect new stock or visit relations, And applications for situations And timid lovers' declarations And gossip, gossip from all the nations, News circumstantial, news financial, Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in, Letters with faces scrawled in the margin, Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts, Letters to Scotland from the South of France, Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands Notes from overseas to Hebrides Written on paper of every hue, The pink, the violet, the white and the blue, The chatty, the catty, the boring, adoring, The cold and official and the heart's outpouring, Clever, stupid, short and long, The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong. IV Thousands are still asleep Dreaming of terrifying monsters, Or of friendly tea beside the band at Cranston's or Crawford's: Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh, Asleep in granite Aberdeen, They continue their dreams, And shall wake soon and long for letters, And none will hear the postman's knock Without a quickening of the heart, For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

My favorite team lost last night and snapped a ten game winning streak. It's only a game but you really can get caught up in the moment. At moments like this I sometimes think of this scene with Tom Hanks. It always conjures up a chuckle or two. You remember it don't you? Yes that is Sharona, Monk's original sidekick. She was played by Bitty Schram

SEXIST IPODS

My wife and I each have our own ipod, and it did not take long for my wife's artistic flair and feminine side to come out. As all ipod owners know, it takes about ten minutes for the back of the ipod case to start taking on scratches no matter how hard you might try to keep it looking good. It does not matter. Soon the back becomes a mass of scratches and most men I think go to the "oh well who cares" school of acceptance of same.

Women I think, do not. My submission of evidence is attached: My back. the guys ipod is on the right, in it's natural state, scratches and all. On the left is my wife's ipod back, covered with a piece of contact leaning a little on the feminine side. That's the way it is.

OLD FRIENDS

Where did the time go? Where did all my old friends, my old acquantices go? Like a moment in my mind a lifetime of moments fly by.

THE RAILWAY TRAIN.
By Emily Dickenson

I like to see it lap the miles,
And lick the valleys up,
And stop to feed itself at tanks;
And then, prodigious, step

Around a pile of mountains,
And, supercilious, peer
In shanties by the sides of roads;
And then a quarry pare

To fit its sides, and crawl between,
Complaining all the while
In horrid, hooting stanza;
Then chase itself down hill

And neigh like Boanerges;
Then, punctual as a star,
Stop -- docile and omnipotent --
At its own stable door.

Halls of Ivy

I enjoy the internet, which is obvious from the many hours I devote to it. The vastness and the depth of the content amazes me. It is, of course, the latest in technology and ever expanding so it seems strange perhaps that one of its stars is old time radio. At least that is to its little older fans. It's a good reason for us old ducks to wallow in a little nostalgia. One of the programs that was a quality show with literate overtones, not too much of course, was the highly rated HALLS OF IVY, starring that most sophisticated of all our actors RONALD COLMAN, a very good actor of his day. Through the auspices, and generosity, TCM, a channel that gives us uninterrupted movies, full length, with a sometimes guide to explain little known facts about the feature and its actors came a very good movie starring the above Mr. Colman and Greer Garson, RANDOM HARVEST. If you've been put off by the age of the film or the title, don't be. It is a very good movie, but sorry there are no car chases or judo chops in the whole thing. Here is a large sampling of the radio show HALLS OF IVY:

Internet Archive: Details: The Halls of Ivy

This card came in a pack of cigarettes in by-gone days. I like the poster/card, but I'm sure I wouldn't have liked the cigarette. I smoked like most of the population did, starting when I entered the service. Why? I suppose because everyone did, in the movies, my contemporaries and more. I continued until around 1977. It was a nasty habit. I don't remember being offered any enticements to buy, except I think maybe a brand named Raleigh offered little certificates in each package that you could redeem for 'valuable' gifts.

http://vintagraph.com/ offers up a different poster every couple of days. It's great for decorating your desktop.

First let me get this out of the way. My party affiliation is no ones business, and actually who cares who I vote for or don't vote for. What attracts me to this piece by Glenn Beck, a loyal conservative, at least on the radio since that is where his bread and butter comes from so what else could he be. It is also not that I am particularly in agreement with what he says either. Although he makes one statement I have to believe. That is if something does not work for a hundred years, maybe it's time to make a change, Duh. He makes the statement that he is first an american, above all else. I doubt that. I think Beck, Limbaugh, Hannity and the rest of the conservatives who make a fabulous income being firstly a conservative with a huge C might find it impossible to line up on the opposite side of the conservative wing, yeah I think so. Anyway Beck I believe makes a couple hard to fault him on statements about going from republican to democrat after a hundred years of non success, but I wonder could he or would he vote if the party at fault were republicans and not the democrats? Enough, here is the Beck piece.

From the collaboration of Jeff Scher (filmmaker) and Shay Lynch (music) comes this hypnotic view of Grand Central Station. It was reminiscent to me of a scene from Metropolis of men marching to work, but reading the approx. 80 remarks of his film suggests what other people thought of when they viewed it.

In The Know: The U.S. Moat

THE LATEST FROM THE ONION NEWS NETWORK. GOOD TO KNOW OUR BEST BRAINS ARE AT WORK ON THE PROBLEM.

The little guy has it all, a lovely loving and obviously understanding mate. All's well that ends well, said a well know poet that starts with S and ends with and E, and has 11 characters.

SUO GAN, a lullaby featured in the movie EMPIRE OF THE SUN.

I watched a portion (22 minutes) of a God awful movie tonight. It was called Astronaut Farmer starring Billy Bob Thorton. It was the most inane, stupid waste of film and my time that I ashamedly admit I invested 22 minutes into. I can't even begin to describe what went on; I won't. It must have stayed in the theaters for a day. I wasn't expecting a great movie, just maybe a small comedy which might be pleasant. Billy Bob is someone I enjoy from time to time, but he must have been on a different planet when he got into this. Miss it.

I watched the movie THE BUCKET LIST last evening, and I am struck again by the resemblance between Jack Nicholson and Jimmy Hoffa who he portrayed some time ago.

While looking at the newspaper this morning over my second or third cup of coffee, I happened upon Nat Hentoff's column entitled: Presidential candidates on you tube is a good thing. After the third paragraph I decided he was really on to something.

I tried to find the column somewhere on the net so I could at this juncture insert a hyperlink to the column, but had no luck finding it, so I will summarize the first three paragraphs that caught my eye.

He first cites a C-SPAN program, which if you haven't run across it and watched it, you should, called PRIME MINISTER'S QUESTIONS. The program where the Prime Minister of England stands up before the whole House of Commons and answers questions and faces criticism of his governments policies. Before which according to National Public Radio in England, "they have to devote several hours to preparing for all sorts of questions, and they go in there and they know that it's to be live on television" while many citizens are watching, and remembering.

Former conservative party leader Howard emphasizes that this weekly breakthrough of government transparency-when the house of commons is sitting- "ensures that, first of all, the prime minister knows what's going on".

Hentoff goes on to say that not only in the Bush administration, but in some previous administrations, it has been far from certain that our president does know all that's going on in his government's most controversial practices.

He further suggests that if we had a regular 'Meet the President' on C-SPAN once a week, at least the President would have to bone up on what's actually going on in his administration. We the people would certainly benefit, as well. The column goes on, but I won't.

This proposition makes so much sense on two fronts that I am sure it would not, or could not be agreed to by any administration, but it would be great wouldn't it.

A CLIP FROM YOUTUBE OF 'PRIME MINISTER'S QUESTIONS'

WHY SUCH ANGER?

I confess at the outset that I don't know any answers to my question. I only have theories or hints at what the answers are.

I have watched the documentary AN INCONVINIENT TRUTH and have followed somewhat the disdain shown to it and its author. I credit some of the backlash to politics as the author and presenter is the former vice president Al Gore. Politicians and political parties have long memories of, and believe that anything written by even an ex-politician must be political.

Besides all that, I for the life of me cannot think why anyone would think there are some sinister underlying plots to a presentation that documents the warming up of our planet and its probable damage to it. I could understand that maybe the viewer does not believe the data presented or the conclusions made from that data, but all of which is easily, I presume, checkable in these days of computers and the Internet. But I cannot understand the animosity toward the whole enterprise.

My ignorance prevents me from making any judgements except to say when I look at what some others say on the subject, it seems they are debating whether Co2 is the reason. I certainly don't know, but whatever it is, global warming seems to be too real and I think it would gladden scientists that the subject is being discussed, and studied.

My conclusion is of course, it's money. Some peoples ox is being gored. (pardon the pun) That is the easy answer, are there others?

In a time past there was another whistle blower who warned us of a peril to our planet. That was Rachel Carson and her book SILENT SPRING. An expose of the over use of the chemical DDT. It too caused a fury from the chemical industry and they belittled her findings.

Like AN INCONVIENIENT TRUTH, SILENT SPRING was accusing big business of unconscionable practices and their profits were in jeopardy. When big money is at stake, politicians are readily available to champion the pursuit of the dollar.

Does anyone doubt this?


From National Geographic: GLOBAL WARMING 101

I was looking at some new movie previews this morning and ran across this clip of a new movie called BLINDNESS. My God I hope this has a happy ending or they will have to issue sedatives as you leave the theater.

Things I miss.

Each morning while dressing after a cool or warm shower, dependent upon the season which one is more enjoyable, I like to listen to some old CD's. The majority of which feature music from the fifties, sixties, and seventies. These songs were the music that accompanied my wife and I through our young, very busy years and act now as signposts of my life.

They almost all captured a moment of each of our lives with lyrics that from time to time were close to poetic. I don't wish to be argumentative and compare this music to the sounds of rock and roll, but I think that is what rock and roll is, sound, usually loud and demanding with a strong percussive beat throughout. Apples and oranges I believe is the proper definition. I just happen to, because of my age I am sure, still get emotionally caught up in one of those blasts from the past as some hot DJ used to quip.

Lyrics like this for example are close to poetic: I left my heart in San Francisco, where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars..etc. It goes on to tell a story, and even though most of us probably have never been to San Francisco, can substitute a city of our choice and it will work just fine. Consider the song written by a unique talent, Hoagy Carmichael, called September Song that tells a story that is so poignant and prophetically true for all of us, I wonder why I like it so...the days dwindle down to a precious few..it gets me every time I hear it.

And then there is the great classic..Mares eat oats and Does eat oats, and little Lambs eat ivy...well maybe they weren't all keepers, but an awful lot were.

McMurtry, the author of Lonesome Dove, generates many nods of appreciation from the older generation for this scene of retaliation against the relentless debilitation of aging.

OUR CANDIDATES


Is it just me or does this portion of the presidential campaign seem to be redundant and really of no value to the electorate.

I guess it all boils down to McCain and Obama saying just about anything to get elected. Well I guess that's what it's all about, but it leaves us, the voters, to wait until the election is over and one of the two is in office to find out what we got for our precious vote.

They adjust, then readjust their messages about the various subjects in answer to the others latest opinion of the same subject, and how it scored in the latest poll. So did they mean what they said initially or didn't we understand it exactly? Maybe we will like the latest press release of what they really believe deep down in their heart of hearts. We'll never know will we?

There is a very large amount of people who are not members of the far left, or the far right, who are somewhat open minded and who really do try to measure the candidate by what he says and what we sincerely think will be best for the good ole USA in these days of our lusterless image needing polished. But our candidates don't make it easy for us, or perhaps that is the idea. Keep us guessing so when election day comes we will vote for whichever one wears the tie we like best.

From the New Yorker, he probably went on that it was a dark and stormy night out. He got better.

WHAT A MONIKER!!

Posted in Art, Trivia by Greg Ross on October 23rd, 2007 and I extracted it from the web page Futility Closet.

Picasso's full name was Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Clito Ruiz y Picasso.

I've been to Japan and I've been on the trains, but that was a lot of years ago. I am glad that I missed this little bit of insideous oriental torture.

Carl Orff's Carmina Burana, certainly one of my favorites.

From Brewster Rockit comes an affliction for the aging, forgetfulness. That forgetfulness that occurs when you are having a conversation and the name of a person, place, or thing will not come front and center when you need it. It is maddening to say the least and not a real good asset for any conversation. I can't tell you how many times while conversing, the name of a person, place, or thing will not come forth when bidden. Older people will know exactly what I am talking about. It's that greatest of all conversation busters, "Oh I'll remember it in just a minute."

Knowing that millions of other people, including Brewster Rockit, (short attention span is not exactly the same, but you get the idea) have the affliction does not make me feel any better.

I snatched this pic from the blog Diatribe. Today is the day I do believe that the actual auction for C.C. Sabathia will begin. I think also today will be the day that the tribe will begin to clear their roster of a whole lot of dead weight. Those who follow the tribe know who I'm talking about. I also think that while the worthless are being discarded the roster will be populated by a whole lot of players from Buffalo.

It's sad, but hey if you are a Cleveland Indian fan of more than ten years, you know it takes a regular dose of the philosophy that 'whatever will be will be, tomorrow will be better than today, or any other philosophical crap that will be the trick.

I FEEL BETTER NOW.

The U.S. Supreme court has alleviated some of an old timers fears when in a moment of unthinking, I might have put myself in the predicament of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

If perhaps darkness is coming on and I am, like an unthinking citizen, am out for a walk on a city street am confronted by two or three 250 pound hulks coming toward me sharing a sidewalk only wide enough for two, maybe three. One of us is going to have to go. Guess which one will be encouraged to give way? Yeah you're right. But now instead of looking at the worst, a mugging and a little face rearranging, I can now feel much safer knowing that the Supreme court of the United States has given these good citizens who are probably going to assault me physically a 'metal convincer' that he can now carry legally just in case the other sport they will have with me bores them a little.

Of course I too can start packing as Matt Dillon used to say, but what good is one legal gun against three legal guns, I lose. Well I suppose the highest court of the land is working on the reasons to set us back a century into those good old rooting tooting days of the wild west. Now we can live through the good new days of the wild east, south and north too. Anyway I certainly feel safer, I won't have to call up the Equalizer, I'll have it in a holster when I take that little walk before bedtime.

Are we looking at some 'bad times' coming up? Nuh uh you think.

I'm certainly no economist, but I am aware of what is going on at the fuel pump, at the grocery store, how much the utilities cost to run our house on a monthly basis. I am aware that my trash hauler will have to raise his cost for the service because he is losing money every time he takes his truck out on the road (he makes less than last month because he has to fill that tank with higher and higher priced gas. All suppliers of goods that we use are in the same pickle, so more and more of the prices we pay will cost us more next month for the same amount.

My wife and I talk about this almost daily. We are retired and can to some extent control our financial destiny insofar as using the car less. We can cut down on our food budget and my wife is a whiz at making a feast out of small quantities of raw material. After all we raised three children on my, compared to today's salaries, measly pittance I brought home. We have two trips we have to make this year. Our daughter is having her first baby and we would like to be there for that, but after that we have the option to put the car in the garage and use it as infrequently as we can.

How are the people who exist on the fringes today going to exist in a decent manner tomorrow when those relentless prices continue to rise?

Would it not be wonderful if we had a president who could go on the television and speak to us and try to explain exactly what is going wrong, what has to be done to fix it, and this is the biggie, we believed what he was telling us, ala Franklin Roosevelt in the thirties.

I read an article this morning in the Times that stated that drinking copious amounts of red wine could extend your life. Seriously, they are and have been conducting studies that they believe will do that. The article goes into the subject in more depth and is fascinating to read and conjure upon. It adds that the 'magic pill' would also slow or end cancer and alzheimer's and they are deadly serious about it. I don't wish to make a comic routine out of the article, but it's too late for me if it came out on the market today and you have to admit it sounds like the mad scientists is at work in his laboratory somewhere in Romania. Comedy aside, it is serious enough for Glaxosmithkline to be offering up millions of dollars for the 'formula'.
Read the article here

Somewhat seriously though what if this would pan out? Life changes would follow for all the world. Except maybe for my crowd, the retirees of the world. First it would extend our expectations of how long we would be around and the delights and problems it would cause. It's my nickle so I would say it will add forty years to our lifespan. I'm not sure my neighborhood will be safe to live in forty years from now, so moving might be in the cards. Where would I want to spend my newly expanded life? I like where I'm at, but if someone is waving a collect $200, get out jail card at me I guess I would have to think about it.

Another thing, I might want to go back to work, oh my God, what am I saying. But it's true. I love my wife completely, but she would probably have a slight change of thought and be thinking it might be a good idea for me to get out of the house and give her a little privacy now and then, matter of fact, she might want to go back to work also.

If I went back to work, I would not want to work where I did, but I'm probably not trained to do what I really want to do, so I might have to go back to school. Actually millions of us would have to go back to school to bring us up to date on the technology needed to get by in the everyday workplace. Oh jeeze this might get more complicated.

I can see some businesses that might be in for a little lean spell. The funeral business I would think would have a forty year depression until we have used up our forty year gift of new life and started to wear out and succumb to some disease that hasn't yet reared it's ugly head. The government might have to cross train funeral directors in the interim as philosophers or guidance counselors.

I could go on and on, but it brings up a more serious aspect of the life extension. Would we use it for ill or good? My snap judgement is the former, but everyday brings something new, so we hope for good things.

Go Ahead and Smile, I Know You Want to.


Two very funny movies in years past were: The Ma and Pa Kettle series and Mr. Blandings builds his Dream House. Here is a scene from each with the same comic actor Emory Parnell playing the foil in both.

THE NUMBING DOWN OF OUR SENSIBILITIES
By Jim Kittelberger

Our television (what a waste) is turning into a daily no class, reality show. It is not merely a game of switching channels trying to find something that is not inane pap, but now it is trying to find something that doesn't make you want to hurl from it's effrontery.

Add to the list some stupifying commercial with very polite people sitting around the dinner table when one of the diners asks to be excused so she can 'pass gas'. In one of their little disgusting episodes the husband or boy friend says its okay, go ahead.

My God, watching television these days is not unlike running the gauntlet of bad manners and bad talk, it's just plain embarrassing. Somewhere freedom to express your every thought in front of any gathering has crossed over to mean that anyone has license to do or say whatever they want, wherever they are, without thinking of it's merit.

I'm reminded of the consul for the army back during the Joe McCarthy HUAC hearings, when the consul Joe Welch could not take any more of Joe McCarthy and said, "My God sir, is there no end to what you will do or say?" (paraphrased)

In order to make a buck, evidently there is no end to how crass, how disgusting, how damaging to whatever civility remains that they would not trash to sell a product. I remember reading once that it didn't matter much what you said in a commercial but you should repeat the product name as many times as you could, as loud as you could and people will remember and chances are purchase it. Sad but probably true. But everytime one of these commercials that lower and demean the publics sensibilities airs, it also lowers and demeans us.

This ad from the forties predated any attempt at truth in advertising. The text is a little hard to read, it says: HOW SOON IS TOO SOON?
Not soon enough. Laboratory tests over the last few years have proven that babies who start drinking soda during the early formative period have a much higher chance of gaining acceptance and 'fitting in' during those awkward pre-teen and teen years. So do yourself a favor, Do your child a favor. Start them on a strict regimen of soda and other sugary carbonated beverages right now for a lifetime of guaranteed happiness. THE SODA POP BOARD OF AMERICA

Next to the bottle of cola, it says: Promotes active lifestyle, Boosts personality, Gives body essential sugars.

Holy mackarel, Besides rotting all the childs teeth before he's old enough to drive, he's a caffeine junkie before he's in school. Luckily our mother's were too smart for stupid ads like this.

A Moment In Miss Eula's Magical Garden
a trip of fancy and made-up words.



The bright sun glinted off the bronze bird feeder that gently swayed in a corner of Miss Eula's magical garden. It was Spring sun, the foolin' kind she was apt to say when goaded, but nonetheless it was. The birds that flew over the high fence to graze at the trough were unaware of the metaphorsis that occurred when they passed through the invisible border of plain ordinary black and white mundane everyday sort of you know plainness. The brown, gray, dirty white, tan sorta conglomerated mix and match coverings of their little bodies would when passing over into Miss Eula's world feel more alive, like they had absorbed some magical elixir of contentment, mega doses of Dr. Peppers pepper. Their visage transformed into an inexact sight of sparkling gems, bright, beautiful, but beautiful and pleasing to the eye. The sometimes frenetic chirping transformed into a cohesive choir of such beauty that God's own would be in awe and inspired.

No ordinary tree existed in this garden, although when they were brought to this place they were trees of green and red plumage, undistinguished and well just ordinary. But soon as the spell passed over their ordinariness each green and red leaf transformed from its everydayness to a ready for inspection sparklingly neat recruit standing before his sergeant, shampooed, buffed, spit shinned and eager to be looked at and approved of. It's leaves became a more lustrous, shiny green and/or red perfect in size and shape, each as if individually selected and applied by hand to the strong branches proud of it's leaves like a doting parent loves each of his children.

The trees grew to an exactness in height and girth as if to show off a little, but were in fact shielding or allowing the warm rays of the sun to reach the surface of the garden in just the perfect exposure, not too much so it would dry out the earth or shade too much to inhibit the growth of the seedlings just emerging from beds of soft dark earth, turned and turned again, nourished and nourished again, natures womb as it were readying itself to reproduce replicas of God's moments of showoffiness, a game of oneupmanship, each trying to outdo the other in beauty and grandeur.

Don't expect flowers of red, blue or yellow, but try and visualize red splashes of color from Van Gogh's palette after spending an afternoon mixing and remixing, agonizing over this tone and that addition to create the perfect red, or Turner creating the blue the color of the ocean or the sky at that certain time of day when the contrast is most beautiful, or shades of yellow from Gauguin's brush that most exactly replicates the beaches at high noon in brilliant sunlight.

Miss Eula's garden for all who visit behind the demarcation line of reality and fantasy is comparable to a drug induced trip into colors, smells, sounds, feelings; a place where colors become all encompassing and forever changing, colors becoming solid and feel-able, where the eyes believe you can grab a handful of red or yellow, blue and green and cast it out before you as if you were sowing seed, seed for the soul. It is a place for imagine-ings and imagine-ers, a place to contemplate a moment passed or imagine moments to come, a refuge or a starting place, a place of peaceful thoughts or wanderings, forever changing, forever incomplete, forever beckoning.

How then do we find Miss Eula's garden you ask, and of course the answer is we all have Miss Eula's Magical Garden residing in ourselves. We all have the ability to imagine or fantasize. To think good thoughts, if circumstances are against you, to fictionalize for effect, to just think silly thoughts occasionally to lighten the internal load we sometimes pile upon ourselves, to just find that inner beauty we hopefully all have, whatever the motivation, maybe just for fun. Come visit, Miss Eula's waiting.

(C) copyright 2008 Jim Kittelberger

A clip from one of the best films made about the WWII experience, THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES.

Was it?

Some of the things that they saw during those times were certainly unforgettable. Unforgettable enough to make the rest of their lives an anticlimax. Could be.

My son was in the Iraq war twice, maybe someday when he is further removed from that time I'll ask him.

Wake up this morning old timers and read this, it will make your day, maybe your whole month. From today's New York Times

While I'm working (playing) on the computer, my mind cannot completely forget that my feet are intermingling with what seems like a potentially lethal amount of electricity.

I've tried to clean it up as much as I can, see picture, but even though I've never read of someone receiving any kind of nasty shockers, I hope I'm not the first.

Every man should go to a barber. It's a man thing and finding a good one is hard to do, but when you do you never want him to grow old and retire. To be included, if you have found a good dentist who blows away any fears you had about dentistry. I am in a good position with both and I think I'm o.k. that the dentist will keep practicing until I die, but the barber is my age so it's dicey. this article reminds us of days gone by in the barber shop

THIS IS NOT FUNNY. Huckabee talking before the NRA. At about 52 seconds into the video he attempts a joke that he obviously thought the NRA would appreciate. At least they did not laugh and cheer, good for them.

DOGFIGHTS, P38 LIGHTNING VS ME 109 - The most amazing bloopers are here

The people that produce the series DOGFIGHTS on the HISTORY channel do a great job of weaving animation with real footage and narration to make an exciting recreation of the real thing. I was going to make a sexist comment about it being a boy thing, but I now know that women fly fighter jets off carriers, so the vicarious thrill of watching these films is enjoyed by both sexes.

(DISCLAIMER) The extraneous off color offerings that came with the Dogfight video are not of my choosing, but as all experienced internet users know, you sometimes have to take the bad to get the good. Sorry.

Photographers seem to take in much more of whats going on around them than us other guys who seem to look straight ahead and miss much of the passing parade. Whew what a long sentence. But the picture above is of a 1932 Hudson Terriplane grille.

To Serve Them All My Days (Book Review)

Quick, reauthorize the use of DDT (funny I think)

my choice for vp (opinion)

He's tougher than Mcain, arguably smarter, talks straight, in short a democratic version of McCain before he took on all the baggage necessary to appease the republican party movers and shakers. An in house asset that would be invaluable in assisting in those decision where a military mindset would be indeed helpful.

Smooth or chunky?

Thomas Friedman is a hell of a writer.
I just finished reading his latest column http://urltea.com/35dg

and I feel if I was fifty years younger I would go to the nearest recruiting office and enlist my services in the cause. Friedman can write, well that's no news, but he can make you think as he did in his bestselling THE WORLD IS FLAT, and in this column
about what we used to be and could be again if only...

Who will tell the people? We are not who we think we are. We are living on borrowed time and borrowed dimes. We still have all the potential for greatness, but only if we get back to work on our country.

Friedman is eloquent and probably could sell that proverbial refrigerator to an eskimo, but he is right. We are not what we once were. Starting with our infrastructure which we neglect, to ideas which seem to be nonexistent, and our leadership which is uninspired and lacking in vison or even eyesight good enough to see that America is less than it used to be in our eyes and the rest of the world.

Before I leave this mortal coil I would like to see America revive some of that can do attitude it had after the second world war when we fought off enemies all around the world and came out of that inspired to lead the world, and solve problems. Well we have a ton of those again and God willing someone will step up and flick the switch that will again inspire us to return America to the land it once was, and most certainly can be again.

I think you could say, your life made a difference, if when you died your obit appeared in the New York Times. If the life was not exactly memeorable, at least it must have been sufficiently important enought to qualify for the fifteen seconds of fame that someone said some of us strive for.

I'm not a regular reader of the obit columns, but today for some reason I clicked in to see who left us, and the diversity of people who did some really memorable things or at least were well known for one reason or another caught my attention. For example:

PHILIPP VON BOESELAGER died. He was the last surviving member of the group of people who shoved an exploding briefcase under a table where Hitler was standing. It blew up but didn't do the job. Good try anyway Mr. Von Boeselager. Rest in Peace.

JIM HAGER died. He was the brother of Jon Hager who together appeared on the country celebrating show Hee Haw. The show that celebrated rural one liners and a little guitar plucking music. I liked the show it was fun. Jim and his brother added to the enjoyment. Rest in Peace Jim.

BUZZIE BAVASI died. One of those names from baseballs past. A general manager for the old Brooklyn Dodgers and for a while the Los Angeles Dodgers when they made the move. He made a lot of people angry and a lot of people happy.

WILLIAM H. STEWART died. So who was William H. Stewart you say? William was a surgeon general of the United States. Still doesn't ring a bell? How about the guy who got that warning put on the side of all cigarette packages that said, just in case you hadn't heard, this smoke that you are about to suck into your lungs is not so good for your health. Good show Mr. Stewart, you probably started millions of people thinking seriously about what that smoke is doing to their lungs. A lot of people are living longer because of you. Rest in Peace.

One of the facets of NAFTA that I dislike is it seems to encourage the tenet that anything is for sale. It doesn't matter who we deal with, or who manufactures the product.

It assumes that we have all decided that Nationalism does not exist anymore. That we in the United States recieve no more consideration than any other country in the world when it comes to selling products.

Well then we can all say good-bye to the good ole USA because how can we compete standing side by side with a citizen of China when he gets a dime an hour and the American gets many dollars an hour. We can't. The framers of NAFTA must have known that when they signed us up to this deal that only brings more money into already bulging coffers.