Cayenne Lemonade

In this corner...

2012-01-02T21:11:00.001-05:00

from the May 20, 2010 issue of the County Journal...

You might already have heard about this, but let me tell my side of the story.
The kids and I played the card game UNO today. In 1971, some guy invented this game with no idea (I don’t think) of the consequences of his actions.

The game was brought into my home somewhere in the late 70’s and it would have been better if my parents had bought throwing knives or boxing gloves to bring us closer as a family.

The game was an out and out war. In my house, we played to win. Well, Mom didn’t play to win, she just played. The reason I never thought she played to win was that she rarely slammed down the draw four and yelled, “Ha! Draw Four Buddy!”

The rest of the people in the house (me included) played like the very existence of the planet depended on who won.

We played Scrabble the same way. You made sarcastic comments toward those who played slow, but certainly took your time when it was your turn. You challenged suspicious looking words. You hoarded “U”s so whoever got the “Q” had to eat it at the end. You never played in an area where the next player could use the triple word score.

We probably still would play this way if our board and letter tiles hadn’t been seized by the police as evidence.

We didn’t own a Risk game...who needed the game of global domination to vent your thirst for power when a game of checkers was a bloodbath?

I don’t know where the games are anymore, but wherever they are there are tear stains on our Monopoly Board, a cracked pop-o-matic, and blood on our Yahtzee scoresheets.
I guess we just love competition.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Father Knows Something or other...

2011-12-31T00:35:00.001-05:00

from the May 13 issue of the County Journal...

I got a book called The Big Book of Questions and Answers to go over with the kids at night. It’s written by some guy named Sinclair Ferguson and, as advertised, it’s about the size of the Los Angeles phonebook.

Anyway...the second question in the Big Book of Questions and Answers is “Why am I here?” (The first night was “Who am I?”)

Now the “Why am I here?” question is one that has caused many a man to ponder, dissertate and/or do recreational drugs, hunt, fish, play golf or a lot of things. I even had a whole class on it at the liberal arts college I attended (and graduated from) in West Virginia.

But this “Why am I here?” question is really in the big, important question category and while I am at peace with the answer (I got a “B” in the class even though I fell asleep often), it still was something I gave a lot of thought to, in order to bestow wisdom on my children, and so they’d think I was smarter than Dora the Explorer and/or Pinky Dinky Doo.

I read Being In Nothingness, The Republic and the Bible in my prepartions for a discussion that would forever impact our children.

Finally, after brushing teeth and giving hugs and kisses goodnight to everyone, (some of them more than once) I sat on the edge of the bed and asked, “Why are you here?”
The answer was to be the start of a great discourse, and certainly the teachings of Socrates, Thomas Aquinas, Jean-Paul Sarte, Kierkeguaard and Alex Trebec were certain to emerge.

She thought for a second and replied, “Because I live here.”

Well, that’s one of my reasons too.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

A tribute to Moms...

2011-12-30T08:42:00.001-05:00

from the May 6, 2010 issue of the County Journal...

A few different thoughts on motherhood...

It happens every day, but it’s no less important because of how often it happens. Every day, someone starts a life-long journey of being called Mom.

The first day, I’m told, is kind of rough. But the last time my wife became a mom, she had a big grin on her face for most of the procedure and told me (over and over again) that they gave her Demerol. It was nice to see her relaxed and calm. She even sang some Broadway show tunes to pass the time. “Anything Goes,” I think. The operation was pretty simple, at least from my perspective. El Doctor (we were in a foreign land) got our son out the escape hatch he created and sent him off to be cleaned and de-briefed. He and his sister are currently investigating how many different reasons they can think of to not go to bed on time. I think they are up to 10,765.
***
A man loves his sweetheart the most, his wife the best, but his mother the longest. ~Irish Proverb
***
Besides the Mighty Quinn, few people have been immortalized in song as greatly as Mom.

According to a wide-array of songwriters, Mom sang tenor, tried to steer her boy right, stood by her man, said what “would be would be” and that “there’d be days like these,” just to name a few.

Mom got free advice on not letting her babies become cowboys and in her spare time, sewed a coat of many colors.

And although she was seen kissing Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, we have reason to believe it was a case of mistaken identity.

The fact that she didn’t dance was exacerbated by the problem that Daddy didn’t Rock and Roll.

All in all, Mom is the shoulder to cry on, has the wisdom of Solomon, and even though “one of them is a toddlin’ and one is a crawlin’ one needs a spankin’ and one needs a huggin’ and one’s on the way,” she still has the respect of us all. Maybe even more so because of all of that.

She even owns an accordion.
***
The way I see it, being Mom is hard, but for the Moms in my life, not being Mom would be utterly impossible.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Relay for Life Night in Hardeman County

2011-12-23T01:05:00.001-05:00

from the April 29, 2010 issue of the County Journal...

Everybody knows about cancer. Everyone has had someone, be it a loved one, a friend, or a co-worker affected or die from some form of it. But thanks to research and organizations like Relay for Life, everyone also knows someone who beat it, who lives in remission and/or completely cancer-free.

However, according to the World Health Organization, cancer was the cause of 13% of all deaths worldwide. So the fight continues.

Relay for Life has come a long way since 1985, when Dr. Gordon Klatt walked 83 miles in 24 hours to raise money to fight cancer in Tacoma, Washington. Relay is now in 21 countries around the world and has raised $3,000,000,000 (that’s billions) to fight cancer.

But it’s not just about a cure. Relay for Life pays for things like stays at a Hope Lodge. Hope Lodge is for the living, for those who are fighting for their lives.
Relay for Life describes Hope Lodge thusly, “Each Hope Lodge offers cancer patients and their families a free, temporary place to stay when their best hope for effective treatment may be in another city. Not having to worry about where to stay or how to pay for lodging allows Hope Lodge guests to focus on the most important thing: getting well. And a Hope Lodge offers so much more than just free lodging. It provides a nurturing, home-like environment where patients and caregivers can retreat to private rooms or connect with others who are going through many of the same experiences.”

It’s about taking care of those still among us. It’s about taking care of each other.
There’s music, good food and renewing friendships with those who, without research, would have perhaps passed from us before this year’s Relay. But they are here, a testament to the worth of Relay for Life.

Relay for Life Night is a night of somber remembrance, but a night of fun too. Relay for Life night is for those who choose to laugh, eat, and dance while never forgetting those who passed on.

Someday cancer will go the way of smallpox. And Relay for Life in Hardeman County will have had a hand in it.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

He was pretty good at picking up the 7-10 split though...

2011-12-18T22:24:00.003-05:00

from the April 22, 2010 Issue of the County Journal...

The date on the top of this paper is April 22, and I thought I’d do a bit of “On this day in history.” Not everything I found in my research was all that interesting, so I had to make up a few things.

However, it is a fact that today (April 22) is Earth Day. Back in 1970, a bunch of people, led by Wisconsin Senator Gaylord Nelson, were convinced that we were about to enter into another ice age and proposed an awareness day to promote the environmental movement so that we could save ourselves from being able to ice skate from Minneapolis to New Orleans on the Mississippi River in August.

The first Earth Day also doubled as a trade show for drug paraphernalia, since mostly the same people were involved, except for the Senator and anyone else named in this column who might have a lawyer and a subscription to this publication. They watched “Reefer Madness” to kill time while a big group of participants went to Burger King for a Whopper, fries, and more fries.

The Committee to have an Earth Day settled on April 22. A few possible reasons:
1. John Muir founded the Sierra Club and the people in charge of the first Earth Day thought to do it on his birthday would be an honor. The only problem was that he was born on April 21. Oops. It was said after this gaffe they banned Cheech and Chong from coming to any more meetings.
2. Eddie Albert of the show Green Acres was born on April 22. In his honor, people shouted, “Give me that countryside!” at the opening ceremonies.
3. Julius Sterling Morton, the founder of Arbor Day, was born on April 22. A research of his life did not find anything I could make a joke about.
4. Julian Koenig was on the committee that established the day as April 22. The date was Koenig’s own birthday and “Earth Day” rhymed with “birthday.” I WISH I made that up.
5. The FBI thought that there was another reason for the April 22 date. The would-have-been 100th birthday of noted Marxist and Professional Bowler Vladimir Lenin was April 22, 1970 and the boys from the FBI thought Earth Day was a front for an eventual subversive plot to redistribute world and U.S. wealth in the name of mythical-man-caused global climate change under the name of “cap and trade.” The FBI was proved wrong though, as Lenin was discovered to have never bowled better than 127 and he didn’t even own his own tri-colored shoes.

And finally, today is my wife’s birthday. Honey, I’m sorry all those years ago the crazy people took over your special day.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

The Neverending Story...

2011-12-11T16:24:00.001-05:00

from the April 15, 2010 issue of the County Journal...

Whenever I’m curious about anything, such as, let’s say, the end of the world, I look to Hollywood. This has helped me with many other riveting mysteries, such as How Stella Got Her Groove Back, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf, and When Harry Met Sally.
(I do need to point out that it isn’t perfect. It has not helped a bit with What Women Want.)

But in case you hadn’t heard, there is a movie now that is based on the fact that Mayan Civilization predicted that the earth would cease to exist on December 21, 2012, which means your Christmas shopping that year won’t be necessary.

The reason for this end of the earth prediction is because when the Mayans (for some reason) got together to map out the remainder of history, they only went until 2012. To me, that would seem to be enough…seven hundred or so years ahead, enough to plan birthday parties and ritual sacrifices for many generations to come. But Hollywood and other lunatics say this is a sign that the earth wouldn’t last past that…all because some Mayan guy said, “man, 2012 is enough, I gotta get home before the old lady changes the locks.”

And what really makes it silly (for them) is that the Mayans ceased to exist sometime in the 14th century. Some of the theories given for the Mayan civilization disappearing involved witches/priests, a peasant revolt, and poor environmental policy that involved abuse of land and pulverizing natural resources such as forests, animals, and shoals and/or reefs that could have proved useful. If only Al Gore had been around to try to legislate these guys into eternal life.

But some Hollywood guys apparently just heard about the 2012 deal and came up with their version of the end of the earth just in time for us to go pay $7.50 for the chance to see it and $11.25 for a soda and popcorn to help us pass the time (as if the END OF THE WORLD isn’t enough to hold your attention). But if the movie really is about the end of the world and the world ends at the end of the movie, how does the movie itself end?

So I guess I’ll rent it. On December 22, 2012.
Unless....

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Think YOU'RE tough?

2011-12-09T16:21:00.001-05:00

from the April 8, 2010 issue of the County Journal...

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

At some point in my life I thought this was the post office motto, but Google has approximately 8 million (give or take a few) people who can’t wait to tell you that this isn’t the motto of the Post Office at all, but instead a Greek description of the Persian Post Office, which apparently ran a very tight ship way back in 500 BC, immortalized by the Persian Historian Herodotus, who coined the above phrase.

Anyway...

As tough as these Persians were though, I don’t think they can hold a candle to the new tough guy (or girl), the TOBACCO SMOKER.

The TOBACCO SMOKER endures the rhetoric of the Government (while paying crazy-high taxes on each pack to it) for the privilege of continuing to be smacked down by laws saying where they can smoke and blamed for high insurance rates. They also must deal with the laid-upon-them guilt of inflicting others with secondhand smoke.

The TOBACCO SMOKER is directly in the cross-hairs of the Surgeon General, who smugly informs them that smoking could cause health problems. Oh yeah? Well, I think the Surgeon General could stand to lose some weight.

The TOBACCO SMOKER must go outside to smoke, says the collector of the crazy-high taxes. The TOBACCO SMOKER stands out in the elements, braving snow, rain, heat, gloom of night and other people that the TOBACCO SMOKER has nothing in common with save perhaps their brand of tobacco or their future oncologist.

The TOBACCO SMOKER is no longer welcome in diners, bowling alleys or pool rooms, places where they once were accepted, loved and encouraged. Instead they are banished to the outer regions and must stand by the back door, sometimes all alone, ashing into a coffee cup or (oh my!) on the ground, polluting the environment with the ashes we will all become eventually anyway.

And to them, this sacrifice for vice is worth it. I don’t smoke, I don’t plan to, I don’t want my kids to, but I admire the TOBACCO SMOKER’s committment to freedom in the face of such oppression.

Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

It was sunny, with a high of 96...

2011-12-02T09:32:00.002-05:00

From the April 1 Issue of the County Journal...

I’ve been sick (ill) for a week or so now and someone asked me if I had gotten my flu shot this year.

Now, I’m not telling you how to run your life, but I don’t get flu shots.

I know I’ve had the flu a few times in my life, but I don’t remember a specific instance, besides the time that it was viral encephalitis. (of course, the time it was viral encephalitis, it WASN’T the flu, it just had the symptoms of the flu)
As far as shots go though, I have a pretty good memory.

On Friday August 12, 1977 (I was 10 years old) I went to the doctor with my mother for a check-up for school. It was noted at the time that I hadn’t had my Tetanus shot.

So with no concern for my immediate safety (and no protest from my mother) the doctor pulled up the sleeve on my blue shirt, got out a needle the size of an industrial-size caulking gun, jammed it into my arm and held it there for four or five minutes (it may have been quicker than this, but this is what I remember) before pulling it back out and giving me a band-aid and a grape Tootsie-pop, which didn’t do a thing to stop the incredible pain I was experiencing.

My arm hurt for about two days. I remember lying on the couch that afternoon with my arm dangling off watching the Cubs play the Phillies on WGN. The Phillies jumped out and scored 3 runs in the second inning and 4 runs in the third inning and went on to win 10-3. (I remember Dad saying the umpiring was terrible.) I remember my arm throbbing as Steve Carlton got the win for the Phillies while Rick Reuschel took the loss for the Cubs. Frank Pulli was the home plate umpire. The attendance was 28,849.

And my arm kept hurting that night when we had chicken casserole with biscuits. It smarted while Gabe Kaplan guest hosted the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. I remember the guests were Roy Clark, Tom Smothers and Susan St. James, who talked about her career now that McMillian and Wife had been cancelled.

I remember that it hurt the next day when I went outside to get the newspaper. I found a penny (it was heads up, 1974 D) on the way back up the driveway, but it didn’t stop my arm from hurting.

And as I said, I don’t really remember having the flu.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Champions!

2011-11-28T22:12:00.002-05:00

From the March 25, 2010 Issue of the County Journal...

When you are a kid, you hear things, most notably “Life isn’t fair.” But for this past weekend in Murfreesboro…

Life WAS fair: This time, it was. The hardest work, the most dedication and the best fans got the prize this time. There were more Bolivar Central fans in the stands for any team in the finals, including three schools much closer in travel time. Senior Jay Murphy won the tournament MVP, and earned it with both his play and his leadership.

Good things come to those who wait: Head Coach Rick Rudesill said last year would stick in his mind for a long time. Maybe somewhere in his psyche, it still does. But I’m sure it hurts less now. Murphy and fellow senior Ricky Tisdale started for four seasons and finally ended their great careers with a championship. Senior Kegan Fuller’s enthusiasm and the embodiment of “TDQ” (Tigers Don’t Quit) was rewarded with the gold ball. And that leads us to the next one.

Good things happen to good people: “Good kids and good students,” said Coach Rudesill, “I can’t say that for all the teams, but I can this year.” The good kids went from the starters to the last player on the bench.

There IS justice in the world: When you beat a team three times in a row, and twice in the playoffs, you would think that is enough to settle the issue of who is the better team. But it wasn’t. Bolivar had to beat Liberty once more to win the state title. Our worry was that all those past wins over Liberty would be for nothing (and they would have been) if the Tigers were to have an off day in the final. It was annoying to think beating someone twice in the playoffs wasn’t enough and worse still, that saying so after a loss would just sound terrible. The thought of Liberty with the golden ball after Bolivar’s fantastic season was enough to make us queasy. But we shouldn’t have worried. The Tigers knew who was better. “We heard them saying they wanted us,” explained Fuller, “So we thought we’d give them what they wanted.”
Which brings us to one more - Be careful what you wish for. You may get it: Bolivar’s dominant performance on championship Saturday proved all of the above. It didn’t matter that Liberty’s players were more celebrated by people outside Hardeman County. It didn’t matter what people thought of Bolivar’s “talent.”

“I’m learning to redefine it,” said Rudesill during the Saturday press conference after the game. “It’s heart.”

Darrell Teubner, Editor

So there...

2011-11-27T22:14:00.002-05:00

From the March 18 Issue of The County Journal...

It has been pointed out to us that we have a “lack of crime” on the front page of the County Journal. So here you go:

The Chicago Police Department has issued a warrant for the arrest of Leroy Brown of the South Side of Chicago. Chicago Police consider Mr. Brown the most dangerous man in the entirety of the city, would give King Kong a run for his money were he to travel to New York City, and is considered more vicious (or perhaps meaner) than a junkyard dog.

Mr. Brown was allegedly involved in an altercation a week ago Friday in a south side bar. Mr. Brown and an unknown man were seen rolling on the floor after Mr. Brown allegedly made romantic advances toward the unknown man’s girlfriend, reportedly a nice-looking girl named Doris.

It is known that Mr. Brown emerged from the fight bruised and bloody. The other man’s condition was not known.

Mr. Brown has been under suspicion by the Chicago Police stemming from allegations of illegal gambling (dice games) and carrying a concealed weapon without a permit (a .32 caliber pistol). Also, Mr. Brown is alleged to have a razor in his shoe.
A description of Mr. Brown lists him as 6 feet 4 and is gives two known aliases: “Treetop Lover” and “Sir.”

Mr. Brown is known to like to wear fancy clothes to flaunt his many diamond rings.
The Department of Motor Vehicles lists Mr. Brown the owner of both a Custom-built Lincoln Continental and a Cadillac El Dorado.
***
The police also wish you to be on the lookout for Jim Walker. He has been known to frequent pool halls on 42nd Street, where he is considered quite proficient at hustling, according to Willie “Slim” McCoy of Alabama.

While not academically gifted, Jim is described as “stronger than a country hoss” and is called “boss” by his acquaintances, who are also considered dangerous.

If spotted, it has been estimated that attempting to apprehend him alone may be as dangerous as “tugging on Superman’s Cape,” “spitting into the wind,” or “pulling the mask off the ol’ Lone Ranger.” Use caution.
***
Finally, there is a report of a shooting in Rosa’s Cantina in El Paso, but the details are unknown, except that a reported love triangle ended in the violent death of a “handsome young stranger.” The alleged shooter is wanted for murder and horse-theft, but is thought to have perished at the hands of 17 or more cowboys while returning to the scene of the crime.

How’s that?

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Still Crazy After All These Issues...

2011-11-13T21:33:00.001-05:00

From the March 11 Issue of the County Journal...

While I listening to a local broadcaster describe a poorly officiated basketball game the other night, I happened to come upon the AFI’s (American Film Institute) Best 100 Movies of All-Time.

After I got over the disappointment that Point Break or The Muppet Movie didn’t make the list, I noticed Casablanca, (the tale of a statistically impossible reunion of two lovers) was #2. Having seen it five or so times, I can say I like the movie (I think it is better than Citizen Kane, although I now understand why he went crazy) but it requires a certain amount of suspension of belief.

The premise that Ilsa would just happen to come by a bar (on another continent) run by Rick, who she was in love with in Paris right before she found out her husband hadn’t been murdered by the Nazis after all, is just silly. It’s too much of a coincidence that they would ever see each again.

I once lived in a town while an ex-girlfriend was there at the same time. The town had about six thousand people and you could drive across it in 15 minutes (as opposed to two continents) and I never saw her by accident on any ocassion, except one night in the gym when she was kissing another guy.

The guy was a short, skinny geek that hadn’t had a girlfriend before (not that I knew of) and here he was kissing my cheerleader girlfriend near where (the location in the gym) I used to sit on the bench for the basketball team.

But it wasn’t that he was kissing her that bothered me the most, although, as I recall, that was a large part of the problem.

No, the thing that bothered me most was that it occurred to me his type (skinny geek) was the kind of guy she liked…now, either I wasn’t geek enough, or...never mind.

Anyway, the idea that after all those years Ilsa would walk into Rick’s American Cafe was just a little out of my believable zone.

But, that’s why the story was made into a movie, I suppose.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

It was sunny, with a high of 96...

2011-11-06T00:16:00.000-04:00

From the March 5, 2010 issue of the County Journal

With Poor Richard’s Almanac, my ESV (English Standard Version) Bible, the New England Journal of Medicine, Bartlett’s Quotations, a World Atlas, and Robert’s Rules of Order at the ready, I put the kids in the truck and headed out for our 20-minute ride to church.

As is their habit, the kids began firing questions as soon as we left the driveway. They led off with a simple one: How do you get to China? I explained that China was a long way from us and you needed to fly over the ocean and I wasn’t sure which way I would go, either east or west. I assured them you couldn’t “dig for China” and that I didn’t know if the kids over there were told to “dig for America” or not.

Then we heard question #2: When is summer going to be here? June 21. The forecast calls for sunny skies and a high of 87.

As we turned right from Lake Hardeman Road onto Highway 125, I was asked about junkyard dogs. Why are they in the junkyard, where do they sleep at the junkyard, will they let you go up and pet them, and why would a dog want to be at the junkyard in the first place?

Question #4 was about why you had to get shots at the doctor, when the shots hurt more than getting sick in the first place...

Number five came up because our new reader in the family (now when we spell words to each other so they won’t know what we are talking about, we have to use words so big that I usually don’t understand either) wondered what a “thru truck” was and why you couldn’t have any of them and should we tell on our neighbor for having a big truck. My explanation raised more questions than it retired, although I assured them the neighbor was not in violation of county law.

There were others, such as the designated hitter rule, why cats have whiskers, the biggest pine cone I have ever seen and if dogs had a language or are they barking to just bark, which was a sidelight to the junkyard dog volley of questions.

Someday, they will decide I don’t know what I’m talking about and I’ll only get silence from the back seat. But in the meantime, I hope it’s nice on June 21. I’d like to have gotten one right.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

All the world's a stage...

2011-11-03T19:39:00.001-04:00

From the February 26, 2010 Issue of the County Journal...

It’s fun to laugh with your friends. And your best friends will let you laugh with them and, sometimes, at them.

Almost ten years ago, a group set out to let us do just that, and so a few times a year we get to dress up and go to see the fruits of countless hours of planning, both on the stage and behind the scenes.

You watch people you work with, work for and work alongside at times, put on a show, an original or perhaps an old favorite. And they do it for nothing, well not for money. You know they do it because they love it.

You laugh at their jokes, sometimes because you know them. But you also marvel at their ability to make us laugh, even more so because you’ve seen them during the not so funny times too.

You sit at tables and meet new people or hang out with old friends. You’re there because you have things in common…maybe a relative or friend is part of the production. Or maybe you just like being a patron of the arts in a community that values the arts.

You watch the show. During the intermission, you realize (if you hadn’t already) you’re part of an event, an event in your county, put on by your county for your county.

Afterward, you get to go through the receiving line and congratulate those who entertained you. You tell them they were great and you can see it in their eyes that it matters to them, because we count each other as friends. These aren’t jaded performers for hire, they’re businessmen and women, housewives, teachers and students who live amongst us. You realize they are us. You’re a little jealous. You want to be part of it. You wished you had auditioned.

Some people give money to causes. Some give time. Some just show up and enjoy it. But the most fun is getting to do all three.

May it never stop.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

The Circle of Career...

2011-11-02T00:23:00.001-04:00

From the February 19, 2010 Issue of the County Journal...

When I was 18 years old and was in-between colleges (waiting for another semester to start), I got a job as the Sports Editor of a bi-weekly newspaper in Morehead, Kentucky. My job, they told me, was to report on all the local sports, both college and high school. Perfect. Right up my alley.

And then they dropped the bomb.

I had to do a Man on the Street interview for each week. I would take a picture of five local citizens and ask them a question, such as, “Do you think Ronald Reagan will push the button?” Their photo and their answer would appear in the next issue of the paper.

My first few weeks featured mostly people I knew. My boss then made a rule I couldn’t use anyone under 25 years old. Then another rule that I couldn’t be related to them. And then he said that I couldn’t give them $10 or offer to wash their car.

So I hung out at the post office, a solitary figure with a notepad and camera stalking people as they came to get their mail. It was pathetic.

For a while I was IN the Post Office, until people complained. Then I was on the front steps of the Post Office until later I moved (involuntarily) to the sidewalk in front of the Post Office, where Federal Laws didn’t apply. A week later, I moved to the Trademore Shopping Center out near Interstate 64, where I stood in front of the Goody’s (or maybe it was Payless Shoes, I can’t remember) and tried not to look desperate.

This was not much better although I didn’t have to bear the threats of the Postmaster, which I suppose was an improvement.

The problem was, normal people didn’t want to talk to me. No one wanted to tell an 18-year old kid if they thought, for example, “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure” should have won the Academy Award for Best Picture. The people that would share, well, their answers weren’t all that newsworthy.

Question: Where do you see yourself in five years?
Answer: Well, unless they move this bench, I’ll be right here. That banana on the ground is mine, you understand?

So when a local radio station offered me a job a few months later, I quickly gave up my dreams of working at a newspaper.

Well, until now.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Walt, Walt, Don't Tell Me!

2011-10-30T23:47:00.001-04:00

From the February 12, 2010 County Journal...

I started watching an old movie the other night called “Double Indemnity” starring Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck and Edward G. Robinson, who didn’t even once, call anyone a “dirty rat.”

The plot centered around an insurance agent who falls in love with a client and the only thing standing between them and romantic and financial bliss was her husband and the fact that he was still alive.

As exciting as this was, I fell asleep while the two of them were professing their love to one another in the canned vegetables aisle of the grocery store and I missed the rest of the movie. I know either he or she did it, since the tagline for the movie was “Love and Murder at First Sight.”

So I imagine the police interviewed some of the people who knew the couple:
Her attorney: “Walt murdered my client’s husband in hopes of a relationship with my client, all without my client’s knowledge. My client’s only dealing with Walt was completely professional. He was the family’s insurance agent. However, she has since cancelled all policies with his company.”

Walt’s College Buddy: “Ol’ Walt offed this dame’s husband after he fell in love with her. Walt always liked the ladies, didn’t he?”

Walt’s Dad: “That conniving woman fell in love with the boy and then convinced him to kill her husband. Walt was always a sucker for a pretty face.”

Walt’s Mother: “That woman framed poor old Walter by pretending to love him all while murdering her own husband. Walter has such a kind heart, always wanting to help out. He couldn’t have done this.”

Walt’s Attorney: “My client was at the public library all day on the day of the murder, except when he stepped out for his lunch break at the soup kitchen he volunteers in on a regular basis. It is obvious that the woman did it for the money. My client is an honest insurance agent and was completely unaware of this woman’s plot to kill her husband when he sold her the huge life insurance policy with the ‘double indemnity’ clause. The romantic relationship between them and the house they just bought in the French Riviera is not relevant to the case.”

Anybody know what really happened? Email me.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Say Cheese...

2011-10-27T22:16:00.001-04:00

from the February 5 issue of the County Journal...

One of my least favorite things in the world is to pose for a photograph. I don’t mind a photo being taken now and then, but I dislike getting in a big group and doing the “simultaneous smile.”

The reason is the first thing that occurs to me when someone says “smile!” is that I need a reason to smile. I’m not a machine. Give me some motivation. Tell a joke. Injure yourself while eating Lasagne. Dance. Something.

The idea of taking a picture, I think, is to capture the moment. Well, if the moment is standing with a bunch of people looking at someone with an electronic device designed to reproduce a moment in time, I fail to see the reason for unbridled joy. After all, cameras have been around for quite some time now.

“Hey, look, Bob has a camera! Whoopeee!!!!!!!!!! Let’s all go grin at him!”

I’m sure there are those who would argue, but I think I genuinely smile as much as anyone. But if you think I should grin solely because you have a camera and say “Smile!” my advice to you is get better material. A rubber chicken. Or a fake moustache and glasses, at least.

But this issue of the County Journal has a few instances of good reasons to smile…a new business opening, Tales from the Yellow House and winners in a coloring contest, just to name a few. We hope it will make you smile, too.

If it does, let us know…we’ll bring a camera.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

The Be (Bad) Attitudes...

2011-10-26T21:03:00.003-04:00

From the January 29, 2010 Issue of the County Journal...

My comeback as a basketball player began last Friday night when I took the court with the blue jersey of the Hornsby Baptist Church. I don’t attend the church, but my particular church doesn’t have a team and the guys were nice enough to let me join them for the season, with no strings attached (I had to buy a $10 t-shirt). They said I could remain a Presbyterian, which is nice.

(They did ask me how I felt about “dunking” and I told them I could barely touch the rim. I may have misunderstood the question.)

It was nice to play with a scoreboard, a clock, someone keeping the book and keeping track of fouls, which meant (in theory - see below) every time I went down the lane someone didn’t just grab me to stop me from scoring. It was an official game.

It’s a church league and the opposing team kept the theme of fellowship throughout the game, maybe because they thumped us. We behaved also, with one possible exception. And being a church league, we did have a miracle occur during the game.

However, the lame did not walk.

Our starting center scored a basket early in the game, stepped on someone’s foot and spent the rest of the game with an ice pack on his ankle, yelling, “rebound,” which had he been in the game, would have been his job. And since our other two “big” guys didn’t show, this hurt our presence on the boards and led to the loss.

Nor did the blind see.

To be fair, I must say the referee did miss them on both sides of the court. He missed calling fouls when we had the ball, but he made up for it by calling a lot of them when they had the ball. So it evened out. Sort of.

What was the miracle?

Unfotuatley, the mute spoke. Even though he should have kept his mouth shut. But, given my heritage, the miracle may have been if I HADN’T said “C’mon!” at least once.
But, even with all that, I think we would have lost anyway. And if this column doesn’t get me kicked out of the league, I can’t wait to play again.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Hope they read it...

2011-10-25T00:42:00.000-04:00

from the January 22 Issue of the County Journal

The recent addition to my weekly routine has left me behind in my reading and therefore, I have no book review to offer to this week’s edition of The County Journal. But the kids were happy to help:

1. Gracie recommends Barnyard Dance by Sandra Boynton…It’s seems that the animals have scored a fiddle and are having a square dance. With a neigh and a moo and a cockle-doodle-doo….Three Stars
2. John feels time would be well-spent with Dogs by Julie Aigner-Clark …Dogs do a lot of things. Clark narrows it down to about seven and none of it is hazardous to shoes...Two and a half stars.
3. John again recommends Sometime I Like to Curl up in a Ball by Vicki Churchill…This wombat is a busy little guy, but he finds time to, you guessed it, curl up in a ball...Three stars.
4. Again, John is entusiastic about The Pup Speaks Up by Anna Jane Hays…Pal the pup lets everyone else weigh in before he gives his opinion. Example: Chug, Chug goes a tug...Three and a half stars.
5. Gracie liked God Made Colours, author unknown Some of the major colors are covered in this six page volume...Three stars
6. Gracie also gives a good word for One, Two, Three! by Sandra Boynton…Amongst the highlights of the book is the notion that six is fun for a running race unless you are the one in sixth place...Four Stars.
7. John liked God Made You Special by Eric Metaxas… Talking vegetables Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato explain that even a gourd can be his own man...Two Stars.
8. Gracie felt Oh, Bother! Someone’s Afraid of the Dark by Betty Birney was a bit overdone…Piglet freaks out during a slumber party he has with his friend Winnie the Pooh. Cameos by Tigger and Owl....One and a half stars.

If I can get up the courage, I’ll slip The County Journal under their pillow. Wish me luck.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Saving the Planet

2011-10-24T20:30:00.002-04:00

From the January 15 2010 Issue of the County Journal...

As I was very carefully crossing the street last Friday, dodging the ice patches, I realized that the good news about the miserable cold is that we’ve finally got this global warming thing licked.

It seems to us, though, that we may have gone too far.
So we have a plan to reverse it back:

- We’re going to stop recycling. The separate plastic bins (creating the need for more plastic) never made sense to us anyway.
- We’re going to ask for plastic bags when we get groceries. We’ll double-bag.
- We’re going to take the muffler off our car.
- We’re going to flush the toilet often and for no reason.
- We’re going to leave the TV on all the time. Same with the lights.
- We will never car pool, instead we will tell our friends to get their own SUV.
- We will wash everything in hot water and ask for fresh towels every day if we go to a hotel.
- We will feed local livestock food from Taco Bell.
- We’re going to take those funny-looking light bulbs back to the store.
- We will take unnecessary airplane flights, we’ll drive when we could walk, and if we have nothing else to do, we’ll just stand in the yard and spray an aerosol can into the sky.

If we all work together, by March we should see some improvement.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

From the other side of the desk...

2011-10-23T22:34:00.003-04:00

When we started the County Journal (the weekly newspaper of Hardeman County)...the blog slowed down..way down..to a standstill.

My column on the front page will be archived here...it will be a bit familiar as I have pirated my own material on more than one occasion...but here goes.

From the January 8, 2010 County Journal...

My little boy rummaged around until he found it under a pile of leaves. He had to pull a few twigs and some bark off it, but he finally got it to his liking. He ran to the edge of the yard and pointed it at a passing truck, yelling at the top of his lungs. He pointed it at the sky and then slammed it on the ground. He made noises like a gun while aiming it in all directions.

He hit acorns with it. He swept the leaves off the yard with it. He beat trees with it. He held it over his head and yelled at the top of his lungs.

After a while, he came over near me, swinging it back and forth. He started hitting the ground with it. I asked, ”What do you have there, son?”

Without looking at me, he replied, “It’s a stick, Dad.”

And so it is with this…from afar, it’s just another newspaper. But when you get your hands on it and look inside, we hope you’ll see it as something more. We hope you’ll see it as the voice, the watchful eye, the entertainer, the informer, the critic, the record-keeper, and the celebrator of all that is good in Hardeman County.

And if you want to, you can even roll it up and hit acorns with it.

But we hope you’ll read it first.

Darrell Teubner, Editor

Still hate mayonaise though...

2011-07-06T00:07:00.005-04:00

While I was enjoying mowing the lawn the other day, I was careful to avoid the swimming pool. (no, it's still me, I haven't been killed and replaced by an opposite...)

Anyway, the pool is an above ground pool, which means we will have to get a trailer and a few cars on blocks to go with it.

And with the above ground pool, it seems reasonable that after a tough day at work, I could sit on a float in the pool and enjoy a cold beer.

But there is a problem.

Everyone here thinks that I'm not supposed to have bottles (i.e. glass) near the pool. Well, with a concrete structure, I can buy that but I don't think I could break a bottle out there and we've managed to keep the bar fights down so I don't think my head is a candidate for breakage.

I'd write more, but I've got to go out and check the ph level/vacuum/add chlorine.

Next week I'm going to buy a boat or an MG Triumph.

"Hey, He said 'Bark, Bark.' Do I have to explain everything?"

2011-02-11T00:32:00.003-05:00

With all that is going on right now, I barely have time to do all the important stuff, like look up lists of talking dogs.

Gracie likes to watch the show "Martha Speaks," which is about a talking dog. She (Martha) has a friend that is also a dog, but lacks the gift of speech, making Martha also a translator to the humans that seem nonplussed by the existence of a talking dog. We think the dog can't read, which means she is illiterate, which is a shame.

My favorite talking dog is probably Huckleberry Hound. He is blue, wears a hat and tie and isn't afraid to sing in public.

Actually, I'm sure he isn't my favorite, but I thought this post would go somewhere when I started, but apparently it isn't.

Betty Ford Mustang...

2011-02-09T23:14:00.003-05:00

No, it's not alcohol or sedatives. It's slot car track.

I bought a slot car track and some cars (2) for John (keep this in mind) for Christmas.

And somewhere, somehow, he may have a problem.

At last count, John's collection has grown to nine cars and 60 feet of track. John had a platform built in the upstairs bedroom and is expecting some green astro-turf in order to create a more realistic experience.

He's bought tires for the cars, more cars, track and is planning (he told me) to have the guy come back and add to the already more than 150 square feet of platform in order to add more track.

Unless he stops using the credit card to order track, we are going to have an intervention.

Wish us luck. He'll turn 4 next week. I think he's getting more cars and track for his birthday.

I'd write more, but a big box just came in from Hotslots132.

Step Number 1, I guess

2010-08-16T23:10:00.000-04:00

When I was a kid, after a long day, my Dad would get a bottle out of the fridge and pour it into a glass. If the chosen glass was short enough, I would get to drink the last of the unable to be poured into the glass portion from the bottle. It burned my throat a little bit, but I liked it.

Fast forward 35 years or so. I’m hooked on it. I’m drinking one in the morning, usually before my breakfast of beef jerky. It’s cold and the throat stinging sensation reminds me of a by-gone time.

I don’t always have one for lunch, but during the workday at some point, I go over to the store and buy one to drink in the car. It never gets warm. It never lasts that long. Sometimes it’s a two-drinker…gone in two drinks. Cans only. The bottles don’t keep it as cold. I even liked the clear version.

We never keep it in the house, because the kids have no idea what it is yet and we aren’t going to tell them until they ask us about it. Also, it keeps me from drinking two or three a night.

I check into getting a machine that would dispense it installed at work. No one suggests an intervention, but that’s because I keep this addiction to myself. But while it is an addiction, I have no incidents of missing work, having problems at home or going on a crime spree to support my habit.

I make an acquaintance of someone who sells it for a living. I make friends with him, his wife and children with hopes of somehow defraying the expense of what has become a $3 a day monkey on my back.

And then, suddenly, he is no longer working there. In loyalty, I resolve to never buy one again. However, my life goes into a tailspin as I am forced to go “cold turkey.” I hang out at Maxwell’s, hoping someone will drop a can from their shopping cart as they go out to their car. I climb into dumpsters hoping a can has fallen upright still containing the life-giving elixir with carmel color and extra fizziness.

Distracted, I mentioned it in one of my columns. My sponsor calls me and accuses me of “falling off the wagon.”

I’m not made of stone, I tell my sponsor, I’m not made of stone.

And I wish I could substitute something else, but as I learned in 1995 during their national campaign, “Nothing else is a Pepsi.”

Probably that you can't putt...

2010-08-08T22:19:00.007-04:00

Apparently, I own 16 putters. This doesn't count the one in Southern Pines that is on permanent loan...

I've sold probably 20 of them over the years, but yet, I have 16 putters in my closet.

You decide what it means.

It's obviously highway 64's fault...

2010-07-24T01:23:00.004-04:00

Coming back from Waynesboro this evening, I pulled into a convenience store only to be almost run over by an ambulance...upon seeing him, I waved and expected him to do the same...but noooooo he gave me the head shake.

I know about the head shake, I've used it before to show my disgust with other drivers as they acted/drove like a dumbass.

Now, this is where my common sense leaves my body and is replaced by redneck guy, a guy I like, but sometimes gets me in trouble.

After the amubulance guy parks and gets out he is greeted by redneck guy who says, "hey, what's the deal with the head shake, you could have killed me."

"You mean you didn't see me?" he says.

"What I don't need is your head shake. You were just as at fault as I was, buddy."

Now I don't remember what he said, or how I replied, but my reply ended with "dumbass"

"Excuse me?" he said incredulously.

Redneck man replied, "Yeah, that's right...I said you were a dumbass."

Fine, said he and went back to his ambulance. I walked in the store knowing he was calling the police. With this in mind, I got a Dr. Pepper instead of the 40 ounce Shiltz Malt Liquor I was planning to guzzle on the way home. I also only got $10 in gas hoping for a quick gas and go before the authorities arrived.

I gassed up and backed out as he had me blocked in. He jumped out of the amubulance, waving his arms. I didn't understand why until I saw the police car behind me...and another one in front of me. I then remembered I was in the town RIGHT NEXT to the one Buford Pusser was Sheriff of back in the "Walking Tall" days.

Fortunately, the officer got out the car WITHOUT a baseball bat.

The cops were nice, I was a little excitable. I did admit I called him a dumbass, twice and that it wasn't my fault he was a dumbass and that it wasn't my fault he couldn't drive. And I said all of this in about five seconds.

The officer talked to the ambulance driver then told me this was road rage on both our parts, but in lieu of jail he would just let me go. He was pretty cool about it, even mentioned I could call him a dumbass if I wished and that they came because he called them, but obviously there was no problem. The amubulance driver left and I continued on my way.

In retrospect, I called him a dumbass and then he acted like one and called the cops on me. (I guess his big brother or his old man wasn't available.)

But redneck man needs to keep his dumbass mouth shut.

Freedumb....oh sweete freedumb...

2010-01-06T23:26:00.002-05:00

Im soo dange tried of editting copie and making surre that al the wordz are spelt corectily that Im seinding this psoting this two my blog in protesst.

So there.

Paper comes out tomorrow.

Where else would she be, Ferguson?

2010-01-05T12:25:00.005-05:00

I got a book called the Big Book of Questions and Answers to go over with the kids at night. It's written by some guy named Sinclair Ferguson. The only Ferguson I remember is the Ferguson on "Clarissa Explains it All," which I never watched, but since it was on every 15 minutes during my Nick at Nite years (I was watching Get Smart and Rocky and Bullwinkle re-runs, but Clarissa was ALWAYS coming up next or tomorrow or something) I do remember Ferguson. But since Clarissa was the one explaining it (I assume) I doubt this is the same guy. (I've also been told this Sinclair Ferguson fellow speaks with a Scotish or English or Welch accent - which means when he was a kid he said, "Well, its me name, yew don't need to be hitting me fer it," a lot I assume.)

Anyway...the second question in the Big Book of Questions and Answers is "Why am I here?" (Last night was "Who am I?")

Now this "Why am I here?" question is one that has caused many a man to ponder, dissertate and/or do recreational drugs or play golf or a lot of things. I had a whole class on it in college. It's really in the big question category and while I am pretty much at peace with the answer, it still was something I gave a lot of thought to, in order to bestow wisdom on my children, so they'd think I was smarter than Dora the Explorer.

So I asked, "Why are you here?"

She thought for a second and replied, "Because I live here."

Hmm...Ol' Ferguson hadn't anticipated this one, I bet.

Tomorrow we'll ask, "Why don't you like to clean your room?"

Man Impaled on Cemetary Post

2010-01-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

Scoop went down to the local cemetary to take a photo of a tombstone of a famous citizen of the county, only to find the cemetary locked. Investigative journalist he was, scoop immediately phoned the local Funeral home to ask "how do you get into the cemetary."

(I should have also asked if he had Sir Walter Raleigh in a can, or how to get to Carnegie Hall)

After a guffaw or two, he was advised to go to a house down the street where the caretaker would let him in.

But, he decided to take a different approach.

Deadline U.S.A.

2010-01-01T11:23:00.002-05:00

With the newspaper looming in eight days, the editor in chief took time to watch the 1952 movie of the above title about couple of days in the life of a newspaper and a newspaper editor that takes on a local mobster and makes things right with his wife all while running the paper and drinking about a fifth of liquor.

He's got 1500 employees, which may account for his having time to woo his wife, wear an ironed tuxedo to a party and go to the bathroom without having to make a few calls during the process.

Here in 2009, the editor in chief took a break from the 75 hours a week by watching the movie, dranking a glass or two of champagne and falling asleep in front of his computer about twenty minutes after the passing of the new year.

The guy didn't even have a blog, for pete's sake.

The 80 year plan to save the planet...

2009-12-13T09:58:00.004-05:00

I've finally heard a plan that will save mankind from the horrors of global warming.

It will take some education and committement from the citizens of the earth, but if carried out, the plan is guaranteed to eliminate mankind's effect on the global temperature.

The problem of overpopulation will be solved, which according to the experts, is the cause of the greenhouse gases that is about to ruin the earth.

The plan is to get every couple to commit to limit the number of children they bring into the world to NONE per family.

This ought to solve it.

Maybe it was a "you gonna buy something or not?" sign...

2009-12-10T00:09:00.002-05:00

The first sign I saw said, "You break it, you buy it." Then after the "$25 for all returned checks," was the "shoplifters will be prosecuted to the FULLEST extent of the law," "no refunds without receipt" and one other I can't remember, but it was no less forbodding than the other four.

Meanwhile, I heard the owner complain that business was terrible and he'd tried everything to get it going, but nothing worked. Nobody was shopping there, the economy was terrible, the weather was bad, he hadn't seen it this bad in the last 25 years.

"No matter what, these people...they got money...but they aren't going to spend it around here," he said.

Hmmm....

I couldn't operate heavy machinery anyway, Mr. Know it all...

2009-12-08T20:57:00.003-05:00

One job I don't understand is the Surgeon General. Everyone makes a big deal out of it and there are hearings and vetting all so that when the guy gets the job he trots out his esteemed opinion that cigarettes and alcohol abuse MIGHT be hazardous to your health.

This is also the opinion of your parents, your AA sponsor and the Southern Baptist Convention.

Oh, and if you're pregnant, it's not a good idea to smoke or drink. Brilliant.

But this guy gets to have it written on all the packaging like he was the first one to think of it or something.

Oh, that sounds like fun...no wait, what did you say?

2009-12-04T14:03:00.005-05:00

Today Gracie told us about a new game she learned at Bible Study...she doesn't study per se, but goes with Holli to the study where they have classes and things for the kids to do.

The game, according to Gracie, is called Jesus, Jesus, God and the rules are the same as duck, duck, goose.

Now, I'm no theologian, but something about this isn't right. Now I doubt that there is a direct ratio, such as Jesus is to duck as God is to goose, intended, but what's wrong with duck, duck, goose that it needs a religious twist?

When the kids play tag, is it "Laying on hands tag?" When they play dodge ball, is it "predestined to be struck with a red rubber (dodge) ball?" (I guess if you are really reformed you just stand there and wait for the ball to hit you...after all if you're going to get hit by the ball...)

Red Rover, Red Rover, let John the Baptist come over?

I'd write more, but Holli wants to tell me about the Singing Christmas Tree.

Coming out of the closet...

2009-12-03T06:24:00.000-05:00

I hate Christmas. I hate buying presents for people just because it is the last week in December. If I want to buy a nice gift for someone, I'll decide WHEN that is, thank you.

I hate Christmas trees...but so do all other men I've every discussed this with. It's a waste of time, money and if you have a dog...well, good luck. I hate figgy pudding, whatever that is.

I hate hanging garland, I hate getting the ornaments out of the attic. I hate sending cards to people. I hate having to explain why I still haven't grown up since last year in my yearly report. I hate photos of us smiling when two minutes earlier I was trying to convince Grace to PLEASE put on her (horribly ugly, she says) brown shoes and trying to get John to stay still long enough to put on pants.

I don't want to go over hills and through the woods on a sleigh. I don't want to sing for the neighbors wondering if I'll ever get full use of my left foot again. I don't want to exchange gifts with almost strangers. I don't want to explain to Grace and John why a fat guy in a red suit ISN'T in the nativity scene.

I do like egg nog, though.

I'm not a scrooge. I'm a man.

However, if by "Christmas" you mean the celebration of the birth of the Messiah, then count me in...

To whom it may concern at ESPN...

2009-12-02T18:17:00.002-05:00

Scores, games and highlights.

I want scores, games and highlights. I don't want stories on the personal lives of the people in the games or highlights. If I want something other than scores, games and highlights, I'll tune into Access Hollywood or watch The View. But as it is, I can't tell you apart from Oprah right now.

Scores, games and highlights...

***

P.S. I'm retiring from golf. If being the best golfer in the world isn't enough to keep you from a public spectacle, then why am I trying to be the 1,000,000th best?

And playing middle linebacker...

2009-12-01T23:01:00.003-05:00

The Discovery Health Channel is running a series of shows on pregnancy tonight...some of the titles are "Transgendered and Pregnant," "I didn't know I was pregnant," and "Pregnant and addicted," just to name a few.

Of course, the ones that didn't make the cut are "Pregnant and want to kill everyone," "Pregnant and Eating at Kentucky Fried Chicken Three Times a Day," "Pregnant and in a foreign country," and "Pregnant and Still Working as a Rodeo Clown."

Isn't it enough to be pregnant? From what I understand, that's plenty.

Note: The author continues to try to atone for asking, "well, why can't you change the tire? You're only in your second trimester!" during his wife's pregnancy three years ago.

Hot Pink?

2009-11-30T16:02:00.004-05:00

The debate rages on...11 point type or 12?

If you use 11 point type, you have to have more content and that may necessitate using the phone book for pages 12 and 13. If you use 12 point type, you fill up pages too quickly and that costs money to print more page with the same number of advertisements...ie less profit margin.

But people want a thick paper, so the shift goes back to 12 point type. But people aren't stupid, they'll know if they paper is just printing bigger type in order to make more pages fill up. They wrote research papers in high school too, probably.

So, for no apparent reason as resovled above, I'm going to use 11 point type. Times New Roman.

I'll try to make tomorrow interesting. I'm deciding what color to paint the coin-operated newspaper boxes.

Well, first you get a hat with "press" written on it...

2009-11-27T19:17:00.003-05:00

1 : a paper that is printed and distributed usually daily or weekly and that contains news, articles of opinion, features, and advertising
Hat Tip: Webster's Online Dictionary

The reason I offer this definition is that my eventual competitor is asking around, trying to get some information on what I'm planning on doing, although they already know I'm planning to produce a newspaper.

(which makes them my eventual competitor...which is why they want to know in the first place...don't they know what they do?)

Not neccesarily in order...

2009-11-26T16:50:00.002-05:00

God
Family
Beef Jerky
Hormel Tamales
Skyline Chili
Gummi Bears (now that the secret is out)
Friends near and far
Dark Beer
Frank's Red Hot
Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet

and then my other list of make believe things to be thankful for...
Santa Claus
The Easter Bunny
The Great Pumpkin
and Global Warming

Final answer?

2009-11-25T18:57:00.002-05:00

We've advertised on the radio, we've told people, wooed clients, hired a salesperson, got a distribution plan and have a facebook page.

I ordered a printer, interviewed a printer (to print the paper) and hired a photographer. We've done it as a news story on the news @ noon (even though it starts at 12:05) although I didn't interview myself or anything.

I've been working on layouts, finished the masthead (or banner), created a name plate and incorporated. I bought a camera. I've told people to send me columns and stories and they've done so. I've written my first column. I bought a flask for my desk drawer.

So I guess I'm going to do this.

A clean comfortable room for only $36...

2009-11-23T21:17:00.002-05:00

The raising of a young child should, I think, contain all sorts of things...a respect for others, a love for God, and a knowledge of literature, science, math and Tom Bodette. Tonight it was the last one on the list.

The path to useless knowledge began when Gracie asked if she could leave the light on. I replied that she wasn't Tom Bodette.

"Who's Tom Bodette?" The guy that leaves the light on for you. "Where does he live?" I don't know. "What's his middle name?" I don't know. "Why does he leave the light on for me?" So you'll stay at his hotel. "Who is he?" A guy. "What does he do?" He makes commericals. "Why?"

To which I replied..."hang on, let me get the light for you."

Things you don't learn in journalism school...

2009-11-20T15:44:00.003-05:00

I got a bottle of scotch and a flask to keep in my desk.

I've got an old sportscoat and a fedora.

I'm still working on a cigarette to let dangle out of my mouth as I pound away on my typewriter as my deadline nears, but I've got it narrowed down to Marlboro's and Kool's.

It's red and it's a chevy...

2009-11-19T13:57:00.000-05:00

I finally have justified the purchase of a second pair of cowboy boots. I bought a truck.

I got hammered on the deal, all while being told I was getting a great deal, which is probably true (I'm just cheap and don't like paying) because my car really looked bad the day I took it over there.

That morning, I got an oil change for the car, which was stupid since I got NO credit for bringing in a car full of clean oil. Same thing for filling the gas tank.

During the queasy time of "getting my information" and while I was resisting the urge to run away, I was asked to go get the registration and insurance information out of my car.

When I got out to my car, I thought I had a problem...well two problems...I had neither registration nor insurance info. I couldn't prove I even owned the car.

But I was wrong. They didn't care. And (along with an agreement to pay for the car until Grace and John are close to driving) that's how I got a truck.

To this woman I legally bind...sign here...

2009-11-18T12:09:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting here wondering whether the woman I offered a job to will take it. It's like being told, "hold on, the final jeopardy is about to come on," when you've just opened the box and popped the question.

But it could have been worse...at least when I asked Holli to marry me, she didn't ask me what was involved (until after the wedding and it was more like, "what do you mean you don't do yard work?"). She didn't ask me about paying mileage, about commissions on sales or what she would need to do to keep her job.

And neither did I spell out the marriage in terms worthy of a legal department nor did I ask her to sign a contract.

And I already knew if she planned to get pregnant, what religion she was and her views on gay marriage. All things that would get me sued if I were to ask them of a potential employee.

Draw your own conclusions...

I think it was Christmas Eve...

2009-11-17T06:25:00.000-05:00

I was told I could come by and get my “stuff” which amounted to a weight bench and some weights and I don’t remember what else.

I tried to get a friend to go with me, but either he was busy or wise enough to know the climate over there was dangerous, or potentially so. He was almost right.

I pulled my Plymouth Horizon into the driveway and walked down the grass to the house.

I gathered my things from the porch and took them to the car. I looked back, hoping she’d come outside. Her father stood in the doorway, guarding the exit.

And then, I did the wrong thing. I walked back down the yard.

He scowled at me and slammed the door.

I lost it. I yelled, I screamed. I stood on their front porch and hollered they had no right to break us up.

The house was still. I opened my mouth, but with a suddenness that silenced me, he came out the door and lunged toward me. Her little brother, right on Dad’s heels, took a swing.

In a heartbeat I remembered he told me that he once shot someone who was drinking beer on his land…I remember that he got away with it…and as I remembered it, I ran.

I don’t remember much after that.

Step one, I guess...

2009-11-16T06:55:00.002-05:00

I'm living a double life, sort of.

I love gummy bears. From the day I first tried one back in high school, I can't seem to get enough of them. The slightly-greasy Hairbo ones are my favorite. I've been known to buy a bag of them ($.97 bag) and eat them all on the 10 minute drive home, throwing the wrapper in the garbage on my way into the house.

Tonight, the urge hit me and I went to the candy aisle to score a bag. And then panic ensued. They'd rearranged all the candy and they weren't where they usually are. And there is no way I'm going to find someone and ask them "Excuse me Ma'am, where are the gummy bears?" First of all, it isn't very manly, and second of all I've never found anyone to help me in (like talking to a brick) Wal-Mart within 15 minutes of trying.

But through perseverance, eventually, I found them and went to the checkout...I usually try to strike up a conversation with the cashier so she won't notice I'm buying neon colored candy. Or I buy a pack of cigarettes so she will see me as an evil smoker of tobacco instead of someone addicted to something that is 97.6% sugar.

And I ate every single one of them on the way home.

But Cayenne Lemonade does...

2009-11-13T19:05:00.004-05:00

I got a phone call today from “an internet advisor” who informed me a search of key words on Google* did not result in our radio station being found in the first 10 search results.

This surprised me because putting the call letters (radio lingo) into Google*, does, in fact, yield our website. I told him so.

Not, said he.

So, said I…but then I asked…”what search words did you use?”

His reply was “radio,” “radio station,” and “country music.”

I asked him (or maybe I just wish I had) if he thought a 3000-watt radio station in rural Tennessee SHOULD be one of the top 10 search results in the entire world when you put in “radio,” “radio station,” and “country music?”

He said he thought our website could use some work. I told him (or maybe I just wish I had) that his manners could use some work and that I liked my website just fine (actually, it's quite mediocre, but what do you expect from a guy who has a blog named after a made up drink?) and that I had to go now.

So I went.

*While typing this I discovered that Google shows up as a misspelling in Microsoft Word if you don’t use a capital “G.” However, God doesn’t. Draw your own conclusions.

Betting I'll live past 45...

2009-11-12T22:07:00.002-05:00

My IRA is about to become MY RA. Now.

Now for those of you who think I'm crazy to flush my retirement, I plan to use it for something better than that (flushing that is). The World Series of Poker beckons. Well, maybe not yet. Maybe someday.

The laws says I can have this money (without penalty) when I’m 59.5 years of age….but I bought life insurance that runs out when I’m 62. So I’m betting (with my money) that I’m going to die before 2029, but I’m planning to leave other money in the IRA until 2027? And for the wad of cash I’ll supposedly have (if I leave it in there they tell me), I won’t be able to spend it all in two and a half years.

So hand it over.

All in...

2009-11-11T20:58:00.000-05:00

To do list:
Incorporate
Call Broker to liquidate 401K
Get a bank account
Buy some business cards
Learn how to use photo shop
Call the printer and tell him it’s on
Get a camera
Pray

Deposition taken...

2009-11-10T06:35:00.000-05:00

Pursuant to the complaint the defendant gave the following responses on the 10th day of November, 2009 to the charge that she wrote her name on the wall of the bedroom in crayon:

Mom: Gracie!
Grace: Yes?
Mom: Why did you write on the wall?
Grace: Mom, that was years ago.
Mom: Gracie!
Grace: Mom, that was years ago. Back when I was four!
Mom: Ok, stop laughing.
Dad: I can’t help it.
Grace: But that was years ago...Mom...that was years ago.

As the statute of limitations had since passed, the defendant was released.

Well, yeah, I guess it is...

2009-11-09T06:20:00.001-05:00

He rummaged around and found it under a pile of leaves. He had to pull a few twigs off of it and some bark, but finally he got it perfect.

He ran to the edge of the yard and pointed it at a passing truck, yelling at the top of his lungs. He pointed it at things and slammed it on the ground. He made noises like a gun while aiming it.

He hit acorns with it. He swept the leaves off the yard with it. He beat trees with it.

He came over near me, swinging it back and forth. He started hitting the ground with it. I asked…”What do you have there, John?”

Without looking at me, he replied, “It’s a stick, Dad.”

Breaking News...

2009-11-06T10:33:00.001-05:00

Out there in the World Wide Web Somewhere -- Children used to learn about reformed theology on the street – either from friends, those weird older kids who'd smoke behind the dumpster, or a friend's older and ostensibly wiser sibling.

But a study reveals that kids are now more likely to learn about the five points of Calvinism on the internet.

“It’s really exploded,” says Tim Jones, “Kids now can learn the Apostle’s Creed without leaving the privacy of their own home.“

What the study also reveals, likely without having been intended, is the existence of reformed theology that has developed in the mainstream search and social media sector. When a person searches “Unconditional Election” or “Perseverance of the Saints” they find concise answers without having to resort to looking it up in a book or going to church on Sunday.

Looking for a sponsor...

2009-11-05T10:52:00.002-05:00

About two months ago I did something stupid…to be specific (as I readily admit I’ve done stupid things since then, but I am speaking of one particular thing)…agreed to quit eating beef jerky.

(I would have agreed to quit “cold turkey” but I don’t really know what that means…why is it “cold turkey” people talk about quitting and it being so hard? Were there no Twinkies when this phrase was coined?)

Anyway (the screaming in my head makes it hard to focus hence all the parenthesis) the craving for a Slim Jim has now reached critical mass.

This became apparent when earlier today, when I saw a lesser man (or at least a smarter man who didn’t agree to stop eating them) tear open the plastic at the top and bite off a huge chunk. I nonchalantly wandered over and asked him if that was the spicy Tabasco or the regular.

He must have noticed the drool on my lips because he indignantly told me, “GET YOUR OWN.”

If you really wanted to "friend me," you'd have offered to drive the getaway car...

2009-11-04T11:37:00.003-05:00

The internet news teases you with the “Man/Woman arrested for…” and somehow I always end up clicking on it to see if it is someone I know.

There are 300 million or so people in our country, but I would figure someday I would be able to read up on an old acquaintance that did something terrible or wildly illegal and made the national news confirming my idea that “he/she never was quite right.” And maybe they keep checking to see if it was me.

I guess now that everyone (well almost everyone) is on twitter or facebook, it would be less likely to be a surprise if someone from your past got nabbed in heinous activity, since they would probably mention in a “tweet” or on their page that they were “standing outside the bank with a ski mask on” right before they took the note to the teller. During the hostage crisis, you could send them a “hug” or a “pizza” or write something encouraging on their wall. Your friends could start a “I sure hope he gets the helicopter” group. Also, your friends could make suggestions or tell you they “liked” the idea of trading useless hostages for a massage therapist or a good barber.

(where you’re going, both will be tough to get)

But so far, everyone has stayed within the law (at least enough to not make the Drudge Report). But I’ll keep checking.

In the dark, almost...

2009-11-03T19:55:00.000-05:00

The internet is out (at the time of this writing that is – if it never comes back on you’ll never get to read this) and it seems like the earth has ground to a halt.

I can’t get email, I can’t get on the internet…it’s like I’m stranded on a desert island, although I do have phone, light and motorcar, so things aren’t that bad.

And through this grueling trial (it’s been out for about an hour now) it seems pretty apparent to me how the evil people are going to get us (you may insert your greatest feared group who might gain power for “evil” in the last sentence) in their grips…they’ll control the information. They’ll get us all used to getting our news, sports and weather from the net and then they’ll just

Confess your sins and get free refills...

2009-11-02T00:01:00.000-05:00

I saw a coffee cup the other day that said, “If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”

Bad grammar aside, I think it’s great that you can pin down the specific type of co-dependence that makes up your dysfunctional family life with a coffee mug. A great way to start your day.

In this same vein, I guess it would be fine if you had a mug that said, “Dad likes to risk the mortgage payment betting on college football games,” or “Sister thinks twinkies are a food group,” or even “Brother is a kleptomaniac."

All of which would make momma unhappy, so I guess the “If momma ain’t…” mug kind of covers the subject...

Three for the price of none

2009-10-30T06:45:00.000-04:00

Tonight I needed a coat hanger. This is not good news in our house, since I needed it to try to fix the dishwasher.

The need of a wire coat hanger, I have found, is rarely good news. It's a locked car door, something stuck in the gas tank of my lawn mower, a plate stuck in the back of the dishwasher, or even (in the old days) poor TV reception.

***

Hate crimes are in the news. There is a movement to expand the definition of "hate crime" when a murder is committed against someone "different" than the alleged committer of the crime. Well, duh...we're all different, and has anyone heard of a murder not being a hate crime? Is there a case where someone MURDERED someone they had good feelings toward at the time of the act?

***

And finally, the people who are doing the TV listings for shows after football or baseball games have apparently never watched one or they would know that Seinfeld will not be airing 2 hours after the start of a World Series Game.

Have a nice weekend.

The fact that a rabbit can't lay an egg was my first clue...

2009-10-29T06:00:00.002-04:00

Dear Jill,

I appreciate your email to the station letting us know that you can get us an interview with Santa Claus for a future broadcast.

In past years, we were interested in an interview with Mr. Claus (on a personal rather than professional level), but have been unable to get him to return our calls or our emails. Also, we suspect that our letters to him (addressed to the North Pole) were either not delivered or ignored, as they have consistently gone unanswered. Checking with colleagues has shown them to have an experience much like ours in this area.

Our other experiences with Santa have been unsatisfactory also. We have observed even those who were naughty instead of nice receiving gifts, in some cases in a disproportionate amount to our gifts. We feel his diligence in obtaining information in this area is misguided, sloppily done, or not done at all.

But the problem, we feel, is more insidious that just incompetence. Things such as duplicate gifts, lack of batteries included with gifts, uneaten cookies and the milk mustache our parents have sported on Christmas morning has led us to doubt the existence of this gentleman in the first place.

To be blunt, we think you’ve invented him. Our investigation supports this theory.

In closing, we’ve alerted the Better Business Bureau and hope that you will limit your offers of interviews to actual people, not ones created to make us behave during the month of December.

Sincerely,

P.S. And don’t send us the Easter Bunny thing next year either.

Huh?

2009-10-28T00:01:00.002-04:00

Someone in England (A Lord Stern who is the Climate EXPERT???) has said the way to save the planet is to stop eating meat.

I, for one, agree that this will save the planet. For the cows, chickens, sheep and pigs, that is. The rest of us would be in serious trouble.

I have no statistics to support this, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the number of animals made of meat right now is a rather significant figure. And to stop eating them would mean we would have to FEED them into old age, unless this gentleman suggests we slaughter them and take them to a landfill or something which would probably make the vegetarians rather angry since many of them have a problem with humans making dead animals period, not just the eating of them.

So we’d need to go out and spay/neuter them (although we could pick one of the two and it would have the same effect) in order to keep them from overpopulating the planet. This would be rather pricey.

And how about the economic effect of telling everyone working in the meat industry that in order to save the planet, they can neither profit from nor eat the spoils of the industry that until yesterday, they owed their livelihood to? That’s a long question, but I think you see where I am going with this.

And if we (meaning the countries with animals made of meat) tried to do away with them, the starving people of the world (who can’t get corn because some idiot wants to make gasoline out of it) would probably politely request that we send these “worthless” animals to them for food. But if we did this, WE would be the starving people, so let's not waste a stamp and just keep them here.

Yo...Stern…IT’S TOO LATE to stop the world from eating meat. Think of something else. But, I admit, it will be hard to top this one.

Well, I don’t get mad when you do it…

2009-10-27T00:01:00.001-04:00

My apologies need some work.

In most situations, I’m perfectly willing to admit my mistakes, whether tangible or not.

I guess my philosophy is that if you are mad, I’ll say I’m sorry. Even when the reason is mysterious to me.

The problem is when my performance is less than convincing. Such as when I say it too soon. Or too late. I need some kind of guide for creating an atmosphere of believability when I humble myself and admit that yes, I left the toilet seat up, I’m sorry for it and it won’t ever happen again.

I mean, how can leaving it UP cause bodily harm?

The not-so-silent killer...

2009-10-26T00:01:00.001-04:00

Every cell phone call you make takes five minutes off your life. We all know that. But the real killer is the calls that are being made around you.

When a cell phone is used, about half of the noise in the air is absorbed into the head by the user and the other half floats around in the air. The combination of mainstream and sidestream phone calls makes up environmental cell phone noise.

Also known as secondhand cell phone noise, this plays a part in more health problems than you might realize. No one should be forced to have their head poisoned with second hand cell phone noise.

If someone is using a phone in your area, crouch down so that the cancer causing waves go over your head on the way to the tower or if you can’t crouch down, ask the user to stand on a chair during his or her call.

***

But if you’re a user and you’ve tried everything…remember, trying to quit “cold turkey” by throwing away your phone and charger just won’t work. Odds are you’ll be back at the store buying more within a day or two as the chemical imbalance in your body cries out for the endorphins released by a text message or phone call. That’s why we offer the phone patch. A harmless patch that you put on your body that rings every three minutes, then every four minutes and so on until you’ve quit without even knowing it.

Call today (but use a land line)…1-800-PATCH ME. We’ll ship you six weeks worth of fake text messages and inane conversation that will rid you of your cell phone urges forever.

Thanks, Google!

2009-10-23T00:01:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, I wanted to be a newspaper columnist.

I would be witty and occasionally wise and always entertaining. But then I found out you didn’t apply to be a columnist, instead you started by writing obits, then if you were lucky you’d get to write feature stories about the 4-H fair, and then if someone died, you might get to write a sports story. If you did that well and you really had good fortune, right before your 59th birthday, you’d get that column with your picture on the page next to your diatribe on the Designated Hitter that would be read and adored by millions.

They called it “paying dues,” but I was broke and couldn’t afford it. And then (not right away, it took about 15 years) along came blogging, which has given me a forum to discuss at whatever length I want, any subject I want, as long as it doesn’t make wife mad or my parents wonder what they did wrong.

And you never know what might happen next.

And they don't always match...

2009-10-22T13:56:00.000-04:00

My life seems headed toward “sock drawer” analogy.

Occasionally in my life, I’ve had too many socks for my drawer. But it always seemed like I could get one more pair in there…I’d cram them in…and then somehow get the door shut. Then, I’d find another pair. Same method. I wondered, sometimes, just how many more pairs I could get in there. Five, Ten? Who knew?

And this where my life is heading. I seem to be taking on (or negotiating toward) more stuff all the time…but it somehow fits in there. Seventy basketball games in 83 days? Sure, cram it in. Start a new business? Yeah, fine. Do your own yard work? Uh, ok…

To make room for my new socks, sometimes I’d have to throw away an old pair. But usually that would only come when they fell apart.

And I know I could get a bigger drawer. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

The start of my next novel

2009-10-21T20:28:00.008-04:00

At the immigration counter, I wistfully looked down at the cyan-colored burlap tourniquet I had fastened to my arm to stop the blood flow.

This will be tough to explain, I thought.

I need to stop reading Ayn Rand...

2009-10-20T21:33:00.002-04:00

This past Saturday I found myself at the Music Festival listening to the tunes being sent up by the live artists. I looked around and noticed just about everyone had a toe tap or a hand slap...something to the beat of the music.

I meanwhile, just stood there.

I've got a little rhythm, but it only shows up during Dancing with the Stars or for no reason whatsoever...this is somewhat annoying to those are then forced to grab the hand or the pen that I am keeping a clandestine, unknown time with.

It's not that I'm marching to the beat of a different drummer, it's that a drummer isn't required or when one is present, I won't acknowledge that it even exists.

And if you are sitting there wondering what I'm talking about, you're not any different than someone that charged me $75 to listen.

And the national color would be pink...

2009-10-19T20:53:00.002-04:00

Tonight I learned what the world would be like in a Gracie controlled environment.

1. You would go on Red and Stop on Green. She's not sure what to do about yellow.
2. The speed limit would be 80. At least.
3. There would be no bedtime.
4. There would be better tasting toothpaste.

There would, however, still be spankings for writing on the walls in crayon.

In accessing the list, I really wouldn't have much of a problem with this either, I'd get used to the Red-Green switch, I kind of have a lead foot, I don't have a bedtime and there IS better tasting toothpaste...we just haven't given it to her yet (but her birthday is coming).

I didn't dance all night...why should I pay the piper?

2009-10-16T09:32:00.004-04:00

I wouldn’t say the fabric of society has been breached, but it’s close. Well, maybe it’s not close, but for today it’s close enough.

After delivering play-by-play the local high school football team, the crew went to a local wing joint where beer and wings were purchased and eaten. A good time was had by all.

Until this morning.

I awoke with a pounding headache, a bit queasy and a dry mouth. Now, I know what these symptoms mean, as I had friends in college who drank too much. But I only had two beers and I ate plenty of food with them. I got plenty of sleep.

(about 11:30 pm until 7:24 am...which left me 6 minutes to get dressed and get to work...I had to skip a few things...which accounts for the awful taste in my mouth right now)

The point is, this isn’t how the universe is supposed to work. I wasn’t drunk. I violated no rules. Therefore, I should have no hangover. But as it is, I feel terrible. It’s not fair.

I’d write more, but I just found some toothpaste and a toothbrush in my desk. Gotta go.

Well, brava...

2009-10-15T13:26:00.007-04:00

Normally I have to show up a few times before I get fired/replaced, but this time it was before the first rehearsal.

I was asked to play Mr. Martini (complete with accent) in a stage adaptation of It’s a Wonderful Life. I was really excited about it and was working on my character…I slicked my hair and I emailed an Italian friend (with an accent) with a list of phrases I wanted him to send me mp3 files of. I ordered a pair of tri-colored bowling shoes for everyday wear. I've been reading Chef Boyardee’s autobiography.

But while I was getting lunch today (an Italian sub of course) I was told that some guy named Bob was going to replace me by the lady that gave me my sandwich, which if she hadn’t been the wife of the director would have really been humiliating as I'd hate for the word to have already been on the street before it got to me.

But no hard feelings. However, if Bob needs the complete Godfather series on DVD, I've got a copy on the way.

Sugar and spice and everything nice...

2009-10-14T00:01:00.002-04:00

Right before the scintillating 500th post on this personal tragedy of a blog site, I thought I'd enlighten you as to one of my new favorite sites to visit.

I don't spend a lot of time reading other blogs...often I just skim them to see if they've mentioned me.

But this one I read in full each post. It's a blog by the daughter of a dear couple of friends who in a past life let me sleep on their couch, although I was wise enough to bring a blanket, my own towels and set my own alarm clock. It was good training for adulthood, even though I was 33 at the time.

But anyway, she writes about haircuts and shows off her art. She doesn't have a link to my blog...which shows incredible taste and judgment at such a young age. She writes about two or three paragraphs and they are easy to follow, which may be why I like reading it.

(I know this post is a bit different but I promise to return to sarcastic and shallow by tomorrow.)

Her big sister was once my favorite little girl. But she grew up and got replaced, although her growing up wasn't the reason she fell to second place. She may have been the reason I figured I could actually be a parent...

But back to her sister. If I ever become un-self-absorbed enough to have a blogroll, she'll be on it.

Just some friendly occult hijinks...

2009-10-13T14:44:00.002-04:00

I’m confused about something.

With the Halloween season comes the haunted houses and such to raise money for charity. You walk on uneven floors and people in bedsheets jump out and say “boo” and the like. Not my cup of eye-of-newt, but to each his own.

It's time now for the Real County Music lyric of the day:
Cause ladies love outlaws like babies love stray dogs...

Moving on...the other thing is the house that really is haunted…verified by Bill Murray and the Ghostbusters themselves or people who deal in this kind of paranormal stuff. These folks give tours of their house during the Halloween season and people go and…well, this is where I lose my way on this one.

If it really is haunted…why would you go? Why wouldn’t you go in the opposite direction? Didn’t these people ever watch Scooby Doo?

A little respect please...

2009-10-12T10:35:00.002-04:00

Christopher Columbus sailed from Spain all the way to the Dominican Republic. He didn’t have sonar, radar, GPS or the weather channel.

He battled dysentery, scurvy, sea-sickness and bad breath.

And when he got to his destination, it wasn’t where he thought it was, nor were the conditions any better than what he had on the boat. There was no beer, not even Miller Lite. (There still isn’t, thankfully)

And for all this, his hard work and grit, some people think I should go to work today.

Lies Men Believe...

2009-10-09T09:00:00.000-04:00

I’ve never had much affection for the electric razor. They don’t seem to work very well, they give you this thing called “razor burn,” and it doesn’t seem manly.

In college I had one, but that was when my beard didn’t sprout a noon-o’clock shadow. But now every few years the grind of buying blades for my razor and the dream of the ease of a “quick shave” causes me to go back out and buy the latest Gillette-o-Matic or whatever the latest ad is pitching.

I tell no one, not wanting to be shunned by the purists in the shaving world for violation of the sacred. Also, because deep down I don’t think the newest thing has a breath of a chance of working.

It’s been about five years since I last tried this.

But now it’s time for the Real Country Music lyric of the day…You’re the reason I went to beer from Soda Pop.
You’re the reason I never go to the beauty shop.
And you’re the reason our kids are ugly, little darling
But looks aint everything and money aint everything
And I still love you anyway

Back to the monologue (even if the song wasn’t)…you never hear a man tell another man about the close shave he gets from his electric razor. And the reason is that it doesn’t exist.

Technically, it qualifies...

2009-10-08T15:15:00.003-04:00

The writer of this blog has been too &(^&^%)_ busy to write today. Also, he has been too busy to look up the correct spelling of obscenities.

Where I'll be for lunch...

2009-10-07T09:17:00.000-04:00

A scared and shattered psyche is all I have to show for my years of crossing paths with bullies. I have no story of standing up to them and having THEM back down. Yes, I stood up to them on occasion, but I have no great victories to show for it. The TV and movies often show the disadvantaged rising up and smiting the great bully, but in real life it usually doesn’t work that way.

But after childhood, the bullies persist, but in a different way (I haven’t had anyone throw my car on top of a house, steal my baseball glove or threaten to follow me home from work) using a different set of techniques. Now the bullies just yell (and email) until everyone stops what they are doing and agrees to go along with what they want. It seems easier to deal with them that way instead of kicking them out of the committee or telling (who do you tell?) on them.

Occasionally, you hear of the adult bullies resorting to physical intimidation, but that usually is followed by jail or lawsuits.

But, since we aren’t thrown in a huge collection with EVERYONE like we were in school, you can avoid the bullies (unless you have to go to the DMV or something) by staying out of biker bars and Wal-Mart during the Christmas shopping season. Well, for the most part.

My oh Mayans...

2009-10-06T00:01:00.002-04:00

This “end of the world” thing is still making me chuckle. I know I’m late in picking this whole 2012 Mayan prediction thing up, but I don’t think I should forfeit my chance at a bit of ridicule at their (whoever they are) expense.

In case you hadn’t heard, the Mayans (who didn’t make it out of the 14th century) predicted that the earth would cease to exist on December 21, 2012. Of course, since the Caesarian calendar was proved to be off by about 15 days by the early 1900’s (see time dot gov if you don’t believe me), even if these guys had a calendar, it wasn’t correct anyway. Some of the reasons given for the Mayan civilization disappearing involved witch/priests (complete with a cauldron full of eye of newt, I’m sure), a peasant revolt, and poor environmental policy that involved abuse of land and pulverizing natural resources such as forests, animals, and shoals and/or reefs that could have proved useful. If only Al Gore had been around.

So when these guys got together to map out the remainder of history, it is said they only went until 2012. To me, that would seem to be enough…seven hundred or so years ahead. But it is said to be a sign that the earth wouldn’t last past that…all because some Mayan guy had to get home to his wife before she changed the locks.

But these guys were the experts, not the sovereign being of the universe (translation: God) or even Isaac Newton or Morley Safer.

I guess it would fade to black...

2009-10-05T12:40:00.001-04:00

The trouble with the end of the world is that you can’t be sure it really is the end of the world.

If you know that it IS the end of the world, you could just sit back with a cold beer and watch the festivities, because unless you had a spaceship and advance reservations to another world, you’re not going to make it out alive. It is after all, the end of the world.

But if you’re not sure, you get in your car and drive until the inevitable road-buckling that seems to be common with the “almost end of the world” scenarios played out in various styles and film genre. Then you run as fast as you can toward I have no idea what…which I would guess would make you wish you’d stayed home in the first place. It’s much better to use your own bathroom right before the world ends (or almost ends), unless you’ve run out of toilet paper or something.

But if the movie really is about the end of the world and the world ends at the end of the movie, how does the movie itself end?

My little number 8...

2009-10-02T12:34:00.000-04:00

The soccer season ended last night for Gracie.

The first game was Tuesday and about 10 minutes in, a kid head-butted her (not on purpose) and she had to come off the field. Shaken, but still ready, she went back in only to be hit with a ball in the face from about 3 or 4 yards away.

She didn’t go back in. Last night we went and she was (understandably) too scared to go out there. Her beaming smile she had before the game as she warmed up with her teammates turned into a frown and fear-filled eyes when the game started.

So, for this year at least, she is retired.

As parents, we don’t know why she was the only one who got hit in the face with an airborne ball, but we can’t do anything about it.

We can’t ask her to do anything that terrified her when it isn’t a necessary part of life. There will be things she will have to overcome her fear for, but kicking a soccer ball with 18 other kids (most of them bigger than her) isn’t going to be one of them.

We’ll kick the ball in the yard. That’ll be more fun anyway.

And maybe tomorrow too...

2009-10-01T12:06:00.001-04:00

Since the hysterectomy, I’ve got a real problem.

Before the surgery, we knew WHEN it was her. We had physical proof that while YES, I WAS AN INSENSITIVE JERK, her reaction was somewhat enhanced due to the hormones that had her in a more fragile state of mind. Or at least the proof came a day or two later and we all understood that her throwing the Baklava was probably only 50% my fault.

But now, with no physical evidence, I don’t know if it really is 100% me or a 50-50 deal. And, even worse still, neither does she.

You would think eliminating the “honey, are you PMSing?” question would help things, but good luck thinking of a different question designed to get that type of information that will work as well. And we have one less thing to talk about now.

So while I’m glad for the savings on paper products, I really need some sort of a signal that the “dark side” of the force has reappeared.

But today, I’m pretty sure it’ll be 100% me.

One acre and a Kubota...

2009-09-30T14:52:00.002-04:00

When I went to buy my lawn mower, they asked if me if I wanted a “zero-turn” mower.

Not knowing what they were talking about (and thinking I needed to be able to turn it) I told them no. This ended up saving me lots of money, but as I circle around in the yard going back to get that one foot wide strip to finish a section, I can understand why I should have gotten it.

As it stands, I now have more conversation chances with people, as in, “You mow yet this week?” and then the discussion of how wide my deck is and whether I’ve got the “zero-turn.”

The recent purchase of a chain saw may lead to questions such as, “Did you think you would miss those fingers so much?” or “When do you get that bandage off your knee?”

I'd write more, but I think the lawn is growing again.

Einstein likes to color...

2009-09-29T00:01:00.000-04:00

Holli has a Master's Degree, an undergraduate degree and an associate degree. I've got a degree myself from a small liberal arts school. We are educated people, academically speaking. But John doesn't seem to care.

John's most reliable source in the house is his five-year old sister. Monsters? Sure, says Gracie, so John believes regardless of what we tell him.

He listens to her advice on food like she is the editor of Gourmet Magazine. If she says it's (in her culinary lingo) "not yummy," the boy won't touch it.

Her cravings become his cravings, be it water, cookies or whatever.

She's not 4-feet tall and he thinks she's the encyclopedia of knowledge on all subjects.

I mean, she's smart, but how about a look our way?

What, me smile?

2009-09-28T00:26:00.002-04:00

We went and had pictures of us and the kids made this weekend.

I’ve not been much of a picture taker, due to the fact that I don’t smile for them. I don’t know why this is, but the first thing that occurs to me is that I need a reason to smile. You can’t just say “smile” and I smile. I need a reason. Dance. Tell a joke. Something.

The idea of taking a picture, I think, is to capture the moment. Well, if the moment is standing with a bunch of people looking at someone with an electronic device, I fail to see the reason for unbridled joy.

I think I genuinely smile as much as anyone. But if you think my motivation to grin is solely because you have a camera and tell me to, my advice to you is get better material.

And if you want to see someone grin for no reason, buy Mad Magazine.

How to get along with everyone...

2009-09-25T00:01:00.002-04:00

It always amuses me when the anarchists get together, because by definition, they aren't supposed to...but there they were, dressed in black holding signs with the anarchists "A" on it, shouting slogans in unison. Yes, in unison.

They came from all over, the news said, to unite (?!?) and made their voices heard. They were described as "self-described anarchists." Well, I hope so.

It's the same kind of chuckle I get when I hear of people saying they hate intolerance. To be truly tolerant, intolerance should be accepted with open arms, welcomed, and encouraged even. It's fine with me if you hate everything.

All of this points to the fact that we don't seem to be wired, as humans, to deal with the other humans. It's a sorry world. The divorce rate is 50% or so...the prisons are full...Miller Lite...etc, etc.

I'm about to merge onto the interstate...can you text me?

2009-09-24T22:32:00.003-04:00

I was going to write about how I always get a to go cup when I get ice tea at a restaurant (wouldn't that have been exciting!) and how this mildly annoys my wife, but something else happened.

I was leaving the restaurant in a rainstorm when my cell phone rang. On the other end was the life insurance people (who have my home, work and cell numbers) to ask me when I would like to schedule my "quick" health exam. They'll take blood, find out my cholesterol is a good three game bowling series and then either raise my rate or deny me coverage altogether. Or they might cut my term from a 20 year policy to six months or so.

But anyway, I'm driving in the pouring rain talking on the phone to the life insurance people thinking...what would my rate increase to if they knew what I was doing right now?

On second thought, maybe I should have written about the ice tea thing...

Three things...

2009-09-23T11:03:00.000-04:00

There is a book I read when I was a kid about a guy who is supposed to meet up with a preacher to go to a revival, but the directions get all messed up and the guy goes to the wrong corner. By either providence, luck or fate (depending on your view of God), that night he is involved in a murder and gets sent to prison.

I don’t remember who was on the wrong corner, but it doesn’t really matter. This was an extreme case of a misunderstanding really messing things up for awhile.

*****

I’ve never been to Las Vegas, but I’m pretty sure there are guys out there betting on the team they think will win, even though they are rooting for the other team.

Such is it with life insurance. Yeah, I signed up, paying in case I die before age 62…but obviously hoping that I lose the wager. I can wrestle bears, hand-glide, eat all the beef jerky I want, and juggle chainsaws…but I can’t kill myself for at least two years. The underwriter asked me all kinds of questions about my personal life, stopping somewhere between if I had ever consumed alcohol to if I was planning to swim the English Channel with a brick tied to my leg.

****

And finally, it seems that I will have to buy a new television. The old one doesn’t work so well since the LCD screen was smashed by an unknown assailant using an unknown implement.

We’ve questioned John and he confessed. He also confessed to leaving the toilet seat up, putting the milk carton back empty, and the Korean conflict.

If only John could read...

2009-09-22T15:55:00.001-04:00

Are you stuck in a dead end job with no chance of advancement? Need new skills to make yourself more marketable?

Well, we’ve got the answer. It’s potty training!

Yes, just think of the opportunities that will come your way once you’ve mastered going to the bathroom. You won’t have to ask prospective employers whether they have a changing table in the restroom and you’ll be able to leave the diaper bag and wipes at home when you report for work.

We start with the basics and work our way up to full toilet self-actualization. You’ll learn to go, flush and wash hands like a pro. You’ll learn how to handle those “middle of the night” missions, complete with a chart on when flushing is good and when it should wait until morning.

You’ll learn about how to avoid confrontations with other users by lifting the seat before beginning your mission. But, even if you forget, our Delta Force sniper team will equip you with advance aiming methods that will ensure you won’t be caught with your pants down.

Think of the advantage you'll have if you go into that job interview with a briefcase instead of a spare pair of Huggies. Learn to use the toilet. It’s the first step on the way to the American Dream!

Blood is thicker than mud...

2009-09-21T22:45:00.001-04:00

I was going to write about getting my Dad’s truck stuck in my front yard and needing a wrecker to pull it out, and in the meantime putting a “For Sale” sign in the window so people wouldn’t think I was an idiot to have driven in my own yard to pull bushes out of the ground when it had rained for seven straight days with a chain that cost $56, but something else happened.

Gracie and I went to dance class tonight and then to dinner, as is our habit on Monday nights. While she was dancing (the parents are not allowed to watch) I was reading Les Miserables.

“Cosette's instinct sought a father, as Jean Valjean's instinct sought a child. To meet was to find each other. At the mysterious moment when their hands touched, they were welded together. When these two souls perceived each other, they recognized each other as necessary to each other, and embraced each other closely.”

Victor Hugo understood having a little girl.

It's First and Goal and I'm craving a Pepsi...

2009-09-18T00:01:00.001-04:00

I got a call yesterday from someone who wanted me to do a live advertisement during tonight’s football game. He wanted me to do it RIGHT BEFORE the home team scored a touchdown.

I appreciated the belief that I, as an announcer, possess the knowledge of when a team is about to score a touchdown. But if I really could do this, I’d sit in the stands and make random bets with other spectators.

Now I realize that one might be able to predict with SOME accuracy when a team was about to score, but what if the home team fails to score? And what does right before mean?

“He crosses the 50…he could score…just like you can score with the incredible deals going on at the Vice Mart!”

“He brings his team to the line of scrimmage…just like you should bring your car to Bill’s Auto Body!”

And then there’s stuff we could do when the home team is on defense:

“He’ll be thrown for a loss of 10…just like the pounds you could shed by joining Joe’s Gym!”

Hmm…

I’d write more, but I have to make some sales calls before the game tonight….

While cleaning my office...

2009-09-17T15:05:00.008-04:00

I have various bags of radio related stuff. I have cords, extension, cords, microphone cords, various lengths of phone cords, etc, etc.

The cords are mostly NOT wound up properly, as I have discovered that they work just fine if they are wound up well or just jammed back in the bag after the broadcast.

Every once in a while, I’ll be packing up the stuff for the 5th time that week and some once a month guy will remark that my method is one of his “pet peeves.”

In college, I had a broadcast-related professor that believed the current would be hindered if a cord wasn’t in order, as if it were a garden hose with a kink in it. He devoted an entire class day to winding up audio cords, complete with a test at the end of the day.

(If you stayed awake to the end of it, you passed.)

He had lots of ideas that seemed to make sense. But when we found out his son was named Kermit, we took them with a grain of salt.

Only 45 more shopping days until Halloween...

2009-09-16T19:51:00.002-04:00

While searching for white face paint (a friend is in a play) in Wal-Mart, I was forced to the aisle that also had the Halloween Costumes. I forgot to be outraged (for the moment) that it is September 16th.

A mom and daughter came down the aisle. I heard this conversation.

"Mom, the school says I can't be the Devil for Halloween."

"Of course not, you aren't going to be the Devil. You were Delilah last year and that's as close are you are going to get."

"Yeah, but that costume is too small for me now."

"Well, we burned it anyway, so it doesn't matter. Come on."

I may resort to watching Lifetime TV...

2009-09-15T12:19:00.002-04:00

I’m a little congested. Now you know.

Nyquil keeps me awake. So while everyone else gets their stuffy head, fever so you can rest medicine, I get the stuffy head, fever and watching re-runs of That 70’s Show until 2:30 or so in the morning.

I tried a new one last night, Mucinex. It would have been great if I was an overnight truck driver.

I took Tylenol PM once. I spent the night tossing and turning all while having a recurring nightmare that the tasteless people who bring us Miller Lite came out with something called the Grooler, a combination BBQ grill and cooler.

I’ve tried everything including, the “lay down and close your eyes” plan I keep telling Gracie to use. I’ve tried thinking, I’ve tried NOT thinking. I’ve tried not trying, although since I was trying it, it kind of negated the idea.

The only thing that works is utter exhaustion. And if I nap for even five minutes during the day, I’m awake again in the middle of the night watching 30-minute infomericals for the Shamwow.

Do you smoke? Do you blog?

2009-09-14T15:31:00.001-04:00

I got a life insurance quote yesterday and it appears the people at the agency are willing to bet $500,000 of their money versus $13,075 of my money (or 38-1 odds) that I will live past age 62.

(I know they could earn interest on my money, but in order to turn $13,075 into $500,000 they would need to earn close to 90% on the money each year)

They must not read this blog.

The only thing that made the broadcast tough was the two minutes of silent prayer

2009-09-11T14:48:00.001-04:00

This morning we were asked to do live coverage of the “Cry Out America” prayer meeting held on the town square.

We agreed to do it, but lamented that we couldn’t have had more time to sell the broadcast to a sponsor.

(just kidding)

On one hand, we would have a great chance to sell it…we could just tell them God wanted them to advertise and that He would be mad if they didn’t pitch in…and on the other hand I’m pretty sure this is how Jim Bakker got started. So we didn’t sell it.

But in thinking about my closing sales pitch, I thought I’d try this…

“Well, sir, I understand why you can’t advertise right now…but I’m not sure God will.”

He's the one who drove the car to practice...

2009-09-10T11:14:00.001-04:00

Two days ago at soccer practice, John escaped and ran out on to the field to talk to Gracie. I got there just as John got there. When she saw us, Grace told another little girl that this was her Daddy and her little brother. And then she added, “The one in the blue shirt is my daddy and the one in the yellow shirt is my brother.”

What is obvious to some is not obvious to others.

Religious Smorgasboard...

2009-09-09T16:26:00.004-04:00

Dear Holli,

I think I have this figured out.

Sunday morning, we’ll go to the Baptist Church for services. We’ll fellowship with the laypeople and make plans for the Wednesday Pot Luck Supper and choir practice. Right when the service is about to begin, we’ll duck out and go over the Warren Community Church for the music…but right before the sermon we’re off again to the PCA church to hear about the grace we are being afforded for our sins, including possibly this plan. We’ll stay for communion if it is offered.

During the benediction, we’ll again leave and head back to the Baptist Church for the last few stanzas of “Just as I am” and to pick up the kids.

I'll play basketball with the Church of Christ/Christian Church crowd.

On Mondays and Wednesdays the kids can go to the Mother’s Morning Out at the Methodist Church.

On Ash Wednesday we’ll go to the Catholic Church and on Christmas Eve we’ll go back to catch the midnight mass.

Anyway, that’s it. I think it might work, but I’m happy to hear your suggestions. And by the way, you know anything about the Lutherans?

Sincerely,

Another one bites the dust...

2009-09-08T15:38:00.003-04:00

Sales Positions Available

Qualifications: Must disappear into thin air in the days following training. Must have a cell phone that “doesn’t ring for some reason” on a regular basis and an email address that receives messages 4 to 6 days after sent by employer.

A qualified applicant will NOT be subjected to drug testing. Are you kidding?

If interested, stop by the office, mention something in passing or sort of nod when we ask you if you’d like to work for us.

Salary will be based qualifications. That is, showing up more than one day in a row.

Hey...I believe my t-shirt explains why you can't have a dollar...

2009-09-07T11:20:00.009-04:00

We've all seen these signs that say "no soliciting" on doors. My favorites are the ones on places that have "SALE!" right beside them.

So they can harass you when you come in, ("So what's it gonna take to put you in this car/satellite dish/blender/carpeting today?") but you can't ask THEM to buy something from you. ("So what's it gonna take for you to shut up and listen for a second?")

Also, this isn't a legally binding sign...you can't be sued or arrested just because somebody goes out and buys a $5 sign. If it was a legal sign with the law behind it, the democrats would have a tax on it and you'd need a lawyer to notarize it and there would be fine print, etc, etc. The sign would cost about $300. And you'd have to buy it from someone (a government authorized one) and they might come to the door and you be right back where you started from.

With or without the sign, I suppose if they told you to leave and you didn't, you'd be in trouble for trespassing, but if as a salesman you stay when someone says no and tells you to leave, you are missing the point of selling anyway.

I've thought to combat this I could wear a shirt that said, "No Rejections." Or I could buy one of these "no soliciting" stickers and put it on the window of my car. It would save me from answering the "do you want fries with that?" question.

I've always wanted to sell these worthless signs door-to-door...if they said no, I'd just say, "Okay, see you tomorrow!"

My competitive spirit...

2009-09-04T11:49:00.007-04:00

I watched a football game last night where at the end of the game, a guy from the losing team punched a guy on the winning team.

This was the kind of thing I always wanted to do when I lost. I never did, but that was mostly because I knew I wouldn't get away with it.

Now I know the guy is going to be suspended and maybe his year and career are over and everyone will condemn his actions as they should be...but for the fact that I'm too old, skinny, weak and slow to play college football, go I.

The only people I don't mind losing to are my children...and my wife. Maybe my mother-in-law.

Have a nice weekend.

He hasn't friended me yet on Facebook, but I'm still hoping...

2009-09-03T20:37:00.002-04:00

Once upon a time, with my life ruined, upon advice of a friend, I apologized to a lot of people. It took some time to find some of them, but the internet was some help and I think I wrote about 7 or 8 letters.

In return, I got two "me, toos," six no responses (or so) and one threat upon my life.

The me toos were nice, the no responses were fine, but the threat upon my life was what got my attention. It seemed that one of the people I offended over the years had recounted the story to her significant, foul-mouthed other. He informed me he was "this close" to driving from Omaha to &&*(^&%^%! and then &%$#*&**( me.

I didn't try to talk him out of it or ask him who and what army. Instead I just listened, realizing that someone out there was more distraught and stressed than I was. Suddenly, my life didn't seem so ruined. He yelled for a bit longer and then hung up on me.

When I told my advice giving friend about it, he quickly sized up the situation.

"Hmm," he said.

Cayenne Lemonade in, Cayenne Lemonade out

2009-09-02T21:04:00.003-04:00

I was listening to the radio today...as hard to believe as it is...and I heard a line in a song that went something like, "I'm old enough to know better but too young to care."

This is a common thing in the country music genre I've found. To take tired old sayings and make them into songs. Or maybe it was the other way around and the Stars and Legends of Country Music created the vernacular by which we live. There are a few I haven't heard yet, but might soon.

"It's not the heat, it's the humidity."
"You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink."
"Garbage in, Garbage out."
and of course...
"The smeller's the feller."

Well, anyway...tomorrow will be better, I hope.