I haven’t done a Meme in a while so here is just some brain fodder

Finally a meme I can relate to…

The Cynic’s Meme

1. What politician do you have the least amount of faith in? Pretty much all of them but if I had to pick one… Joseph Biden.

2. Which of Murphy’s Laws do you most agree with? The probability of a piece of jellied toast landing face down on the floor increases exponentially with the expense of the carpet.

3. What charity will you not give to? Any charity that won’t show me how much money they have in the bank.

4. What televangelist do you think has the best chance of being a sham? Bennie Hinn

5. How long do you think America will survive as a nation? 25 years

6. If you lost your wallet and it had $300 in it, how much do you think will still be in it if you happen to find it again? $0

7. It is your birthday and your employees bring you a cake and presents. Do you think they are sincere or just sucking up? I would lean towards the latter.

8. Do you think love at first sight is possible? Depends… are we talking humans or bacon, cheese, and jalapeno hamburgers?

9. Your doorbell rings and when you open the door you find two men dressed in black slacks, white shirts, and skinny ties standing there smiling at you. What is the first thought that pops into your head? Oh look, Mormons. I feel an exhilarating afternoon coming on…

10. Do you think it is possible to end World Hunger? Sure. I think it will happen about the same time we stop global warming, eliminate nuclear weapons, and Muslims and Christians celebrate Christmas together by singing Hindu love songs in the middle of a gay strip club while getting bombed.

11. You’re watching late night television and a commercial comes on about starving children in lower Bongolia who happen to be covered in flies and have big sad eyes. What is the first thought that enters your mind? Wonder if those flies are professionally trained?

12. Do you actually think someone will read this and care? Absolutely not.

13. Who do you think will respond first to this Meme? Obviously the power of observation escapes you since you were not able to read and comprehend the answer to the previous question.  

Wine not for Women?

The front page headline in our city’s newspaper was the startling announcement, “Wine not fine for women, experts say.”   According to the article alcohol in any form increases the potential of breast cancer in women.   I could’ve sworn just a year or so ago we had another study that said wine was good for the heart, especially if you drank it with a meal.  A glass a day kept the surgeons away, if I remember it correctly.

What a quandary.  Good heart or good breasts.

I think we can safely assume the doctors running the study were not male…

TT 13 for 09/27/07

I was supposed to go to my brother’s class reunion this weekend but because of deadlines, we aren’t going.  So in honor of not going to the class reunion, here are 13 fond memories from high school.

1. Competing in extemporaneous speaking and being good enough to go to State.
2. Drama – I was lucky enough to be in nine productions with a lead role in two of them.
3. Band – I didn’t stay in band past marching season of my junior year because of a chance to participate more in drama and they weren’t going to let me play tenor saxophone in concert season anyway… Still the friends I had made were great and the appreciation I gained for music has lasted a lifetime.
4. Mr. Hughes.  The world’s greatest Government teacher.  The man made you think, was anti-establishment, and best of all, wore a Farah Fawcett t-shirt underneath his dress shirt so Farah was always peeking out behind his lime green striped tie.
5. Mrs. Moutous.  This woman could teach British novels and Classical literature on a level that made the rest of the teachers look like amateurs.  She was cute too… in a sadistic nun “don’t make me whack you” sort of way.
6. Mr. Killingsworth.  He made acting fun and rewarding by being a demanding teacher with a quick laugh.  He did force us out of our comfort zones which for me was dancing.  Luckily he realized my inability to maintain any sort of synchronization and had me only dance when you needed comedic relief.
7. My 1963 GMC tri-colored pickup.  Oh yeah, four on the floor, no air conditioning, and cruised nicely while getting an outstanding 10 miles to the gallon.  Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!
8. Sitting with friends at lunch.
9. The Wombat Patrol: David Green, Chris Bright, John Guidrey, and myself.  We had lots of fun running around in David’s dark green Ford Fury until we were sideswiped by a little old lady in a red Impala.  The Impala won…
10. Pushing Mrs. Manzer’s buttons in Spanish classes.  Our school had a vocabulary lab where you sat in a cubicle with a set of headphones on, speaking into a microphone while Mrs. Manzer could listen to individuals speaking by sitting at her desk in the front.  We were all supposed to be reading Spanish phrases together and she would monitor our progress in pronunciation.  Nothing could make her fake smile disappear quicker than repeating sentences back to her with a German or a French accent.  Dennis Frazier could do it with a Scottish accent that would have us all laughing and Mrs. Manzer pounding her desk.  Khrushchev would’ve been proud.
11. The Canyon Godiva incident.  A girl in the class of ‘79 rode her horse through the hallways wearing nothing but a pair of boots and a cowboy hat.  In one door and out the other.  That was the day we all learned that riding horses can make the most interesting body parts jiggle.  She was expelled from school.  Can you believe such closed mindedness existed back then?
12. The band trip to Atlanta.  The education we got on that trip had nothing to do with music.
13. My whole senior year.  What a blast!  If every year could be like your senior year, kids would stay in school.

Moving the Mail Along at the Pace of inverted Cockroaches

Standing in line to get some stamps, I couldn’t help but notice two rather large cockroaches who rested flat on their backs.  I happen to know there are only two reasons cockroaches lie on their backs; 1) they are dead or dying, or 2) they happened to have found some food source that needs them to lie on their backs while they defile it.

Which brings me to my point of two large cockroaches in the middle of the post office floor.  I think they probably died waiting to get service.  So were they waiting to buy stamps?  To pick up a package?  To get a passport application?  Whatever the reason, I think maybe they have the right idea so I lay on the floor next to them and look up.

Hmm, who knew they painted such risque pictures on the vaulted ceilings of the post office?

Made you look…

Gecko Games

We are blessed/cursed in my part of Texas to  have geckos.  The little suctioned cupped beasts make themselves right at home in your kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, etc. as they continue their ongoing quest to rid the world of insects.  I like ‘em and never kill them, but instead, gather them up and put them outside or just ignore them and allow them to do their thing as the ultimate bug hunter.

There are, however, folks who do not see the beauty of these tail dropping, tail wiggling, and tail hauling creatures and choose not to share their domicile with them and reinforce that premise by smashing them, swatting them, or splashing them all over any hard surface they can reach with the heel of their shoe.  Many a brave young gecko has become a spot on the wall from overly ambitious screaming females who can’t bear the thought of them sharing space on the same planet, much less the same domicile.  I beg these shrieking splinters of satanic spite to reconsider the lowly gecko and take time to admire, no adore, their cute and precious qualities.

Here are just a few reasons you should be thrilled about geckos;

1. They don’t engage in any obnoxious quacking noises on TV but instead talk with a smooth suave British accent.
2. They aren’t totally obnoxious as far as insurance salesmen go.
3. Any lizard that can slink across the ceiling without falling on you should be considered friendly.
4. They can get your children out of bed quickly when you drop one into the bed with them.
5. When their tails break off you are given a wonderful invigorating experience of watching that tail wiggle like crazy in your hand.
6.  They taste like chicken when you eat them… okay, I really don’t know what raw chicken tastes like but I imagine it will close to tasting like chicken!

Do  yourself, your family, and your  house a favor… hug a gecko today!

Sniper Bait

I’m interested in the hubbub of the snipers baiting insurgents in Iraq because the “shock” of the media would lead one to believe that such an action has never been conceived or practiced before.  Puhleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssseeeeee!  If the issue is a sniper planting evidence on a body after the kill, then you have another issue altogether but come on, stay on the issue and don’t go blathering hysterically that the mean ol’ sniper man baited an insurgent to take him out.  Get real people!  Snipers have been baiting potential targets from the inception of the idea “I’ll sit up in a undisclosed position and pick off enemy targets or potential enemy targets.”  Let me quote from Wikipedia…

A sniper is an infantry soldier who specializes in shooting from a concealed position over longer ranges than regular infantry, often with a specially designed or adapted sniper rifle. It requires skill in marksmanship, camouflage and field craft.

The term sniper is attested from 1824 in the sense of “sharpshooter.” The verb to snipe originated in the 1770s among soldiers in British India-in the sense of: “to shoot from a hidden place”, in allusion to snipe hunting, a game bird known for being extremely difficult to hunt. Those who were skilled at the hunting of this bird were thus dubbed “snipers”.

During the American Civil War, the common term used in the United States for much the same function was “skirmisher“. A Civil War army often protected itself by using such concealed marksmen, who were deployed individually on the extremes of the moving army. Generally, such skirmishers were selected on the basis of prior proven hunting and marksmanship skills. Often these were either young soldiers with promising maneuverability and field craft, or older men with refined marksmanship and tactical skills.^[1] The term ’sniper’ was not in widespread use in the United States until after the American Civil War.

Thank you Wikipedia!  Ah, so a sniper is a marksman and a hunter who is proficient at concealment and making the long shot.  Hmm, hunters have been known to bait their prey and here we have “hunters” baiting potential prey with components used to make bombs.  I’m thinking the average person on the street doesn’t know what primer cord is or what the heck it is used for.  It looks like a thick piece of twine that is too stiff to bend with ease and creases if you try to take it past a 60% angle.   Someone with an interest in explosives, on the other hand, absolutely knows what primer cord is and detonating devices and would be interested in taking it  until he realizes he has been drawn into a trap and is being deposed of in a quick manner.

Snipers have a purpose and a job which is taking out the enemy one shot at a time.  Our soldiers are already being blown up by EID’s, car bombs, etc. and for them to use the tools for those devices as “bait” is simply intelligent warfare.  Could an innocent person be shot accidentally because they chose to snatch an unattended box of primer cord?  Yes, it does happen. Unfortunately, in war zones, the innocent get hurt/die all the time which may be the reason we have coined a little phrase of “war is hell.”

If it is the act of baiting that is so horrendous, why hasn’t anyone screamed about using a .50 caliber Barrett to shoot insurgents through a cinder block walls without any warning.  Egad!  They even use infrared scopes to acquire their targets and that surely can’t be considered fair play in war…  Oh wait, that’s right, they didn’t bait them to get them to stand behind the cinder block wall, that must be the difference.

Perhaps we need to let the media handle the war for awhile.  I’m thinking a couple of months on the front lines might give them insight to why they might want to bait an insurgent and kill them from a long distance instead of trying to remove them in a conventional manner where the insurgent has all the advantages.   Until we bring our people home and let the Iraqis get back to their homogeneous genocide, let the snipers be snipers and do their job with any innovation available to them.

Another Civil War Song

How Many Devils?

One, Two, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again and watch the lines go on by

Three, Four, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again until you stop work and then you die

One, Two, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again until Massah Robert tells us to cease

Three, Four, when the hell did shoes get so damn dear and life get so damn cheap?

One, Two, those damn Yankees ain’t give up as easy as we thought they’d be

Three, Four, those damn Yankees ain’t near as scared or half as hungry as we
One, Two, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again is all a body can do
Three, Four, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again until this bloody war is through!

How many miles? How many fears? How many days? How many years?

How many rivers of blood, sweat and tears?

How many times into the fray? How many men won’t walk away?

How many hells filled with how many devils to pay?

One, Two, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again and watch the miles roll on

Three, Four, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again until your strength is nearly gone

One, Two, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again and dream of home, safe and sound
Three, Four, pick ‘em up and put ‘em down again ’til we’re six feet underground

How many miles dead on our feet, drenched to the bone, baked in the heat?

Fading from ground with another retreat?

How many times into the fray? How many men won’t walk away?

How many hells filled with how many devils to pay?

Bodies all lay in the tall summer grass, swollen and butchered and still

Measuring miles by the dead that you pass, measuring life by the men you kill

How many days? How many more? How many men lost to this war?

I can’t remember what we’re fighting for!

How many times into the fray? How many men won’t walk away?

How many hells filled with how many devils to pay?

This song reminds me of all the black and white photographs I’ve seen of the battlefields, the death, the destruction. This part of our history still boggles the mind when you realize

The Union armies had from 2,500,000 to 2,750,000 men. Their losses, by the best estimates were 360,222 with 250,152 of them attributed to disease.  The Confederacy had 750,000 to 1,250,000 men with losses of 258,000 and 164,000 of those dying from disease.  Putting it into perspective, the North lost approximately .007 percent of their population and the South lost .05% of theirs, approximately 10-15% of their male population.

A travesty at best.

Civil War Lyrics

One of my all time favorite musicals is The Civil War which is generally performed on a minimalist stage as the actors tell the story of the Civil War through song.  I enjoy both CDs and find the lyrics moving when you consider they are about one of the most defining moments of our country’s history.  Here is one for your pleasure and it is sung by Travis Tritt on the CD.
The Day The Sun Stood Still

We were young and bound for glory
Itchin’ for a fight like you
Bringin’ hell and purgatory
To the boys who wore the blue
And I thought I’d seen it all
Till the day night wouldn’t fall
Oh, how the sun did blaze
Wouldn’t go down for days
I got shot and lost my rifle
When the first wave hit the rise
And the guns rolled out like thunder
And the black smoke burned my eyes
And I watched it all unfold
Just the way the Bible told
Joshua’s endless day
Keepin’ the night at bay
And the soldiers kept a comin’
Til the ground looked like a sea
Of blue and grey
And I watched it from a distance
Wonderin’ if I would’ve fought or run away

The day the sun stood still
How they beat the bloody drums
And the seconds moved like hours
But the sunset never comes
And the cannons shake the ground
And the bullets test your will
Even shadows found no cover
On that Godforsaken hill
The day the sun stood still

And I watched them lean their shoulders
To the fearful hail of lead
And I prayed for night to save us
And I cried and bowed my head
Bt the sun just kept a-creepin’
‘Cross a cold indifferent sky
Castin’ a deadly glow
On all the men below
All the hours in a lifetime
Don’t add up to one while minute in that sun
And the heroes and the cowards
Look the same when they have fallen by the gun
The day the sun stood still

And the north and south looked west
But the evening star was sleeping
And the daylight wouldn’t rest
Out on the killing floor
The red sun on the the hill
Shinin’ down on all the dead men
With a strange and eerie chill
The day the sun stood still

Do not judge what you brother does
Till you’ve walked a mile
Rank by bloody file
Who’s to say if you’ll run or stay and fight?

The day the sun stood still
Is just beneath the skin
In the soul of every soldier
Every battle that he’s in
The day the sun stood still
Will haunt your dreams at night
And stalk your every sunrise
Though you will not know it till

Repeat Chorus

Thinking of Getting a Yard Saint

Driving around town today I couldn’t help but notice all of the patron saints standing in yards, protected by an inverted bath tub.  Now I really don’t know all of my saints that well but I do know Saint Jude is the patron saint for lost causes and Saint Francis of Assissi is the patron saint for animals.  I think Saint Christopher is the patron saint for men who won’t stop and ask for directions, but don’t quote me on that.

Here in Texas I think we need our own patron saint; Saint Frank of Abubba, the patron saint for redneck hunters.  I think I’m going to go find me one of these or make my own so I can stick him in my front yard under the cover of a camouflaged  inverted bathtub with maybe even some duck blind netting stretched over him.  I’m thinking he would need to look all philosophical with a pot belly, a Remington 870 Wingmaster shotgun tucked into the crook of his arm, wading boots, a floppy hunting hat, a half smoked stogie hanging out the side of his mouth and a can of an adult beverage in his shotgun hand so his blessing hand can be extended with a bottle of doe estrous or maybe even a grunt call.  Every hunter would want one to pause in front of and to maybe even say a little prayer before heading out into the wild to hunt the ferocious Bambi.  Something simple like;

“As I go to the woods to hunt, may the bucks answer my grunt.  May he big a big ol’ buck!  Big enough to fill my truck.  May his rack wow my buds, So they’ll all buy my suds.”

Anyway, I think it is a good idea.

Age Calculator

My friend Weevil sent me an age calculator that asks you 34 questions and then determines how long you have upon this earth.  There are questions like “how much alcohol do you consume a day” and “how much and how strenuous is your daily exercise routine” and “do you wear a seat-belt” but I think they fail to ask the really pertinent questions really determine the longevity of a human.  For instance:

• How many times in a year do you smack an alligator on the nose?
• How many times a day do you roll bums for pocket change?
• Do you enjoy running through rush hour traffic in the nude?
• Do you belong to a cult that has its own compound and makes a habit of taunting the FBI and the ATF?
• Do you vacation in the Middle East?
• How often do you fly  airlines from 3rd World  countries?
• Do you know and socialize with O.J. personally?
• Are  you married to Robert Blake?
• Do you enjoy feeding bears in Yellowstone while flashing a camera strobe in their face?
• Do you consistently yell racial slurs in Harlem or Watts?
• Do you sky dive in electrical storms?

I think these type of questions would come closer to determining how long you are going to live in this world.   However, if you want to check out your probable life span, you can click on this link:

http://www.poodwaddle.com/realage.swf

My life expectancy is 89.3 years provided I give up smacking alligators around while feeding strobe-crazed bears in Yellowstone.