Closet Extremist

Nyurg

Boy Howdy. There's nothing like a full day of hanging "shade cloth" over the outside patio's to remind you that you aren't twenty years old anymore. I'm surprised that I'm actually able to type at this point, as my arms currently feel like slightly warm jello combined with a toothache. Both index fingers have blisters on them from the "bungee balls" (let's see if Harvey can resist commenting about those) that are used to hold them up. I'm too young to feel this old.

Luckily, I had to make dinner when I got home. (/sarcasm) It seems like I'm the only one in the household who has a decent recipe for crappie, so I got "elected" to fry us up a mess. It was Damn good, and everyone enjoyed it, so I've got no complaints.

So now I've finally sat down, and have begun the intake of this evenings libation. Ahhh, bourbon and beer..."It's not just for breakfast, anymore." I invariably have the TV on when I'm sitting at my pc, and I just realized that there's something you folks need to know about me. Currently playing on my idiot box...WGN for Chicago Cub's baseball.

I woke up one day about ywo year's ago, and realized that I'm a Cub's fan. I'm not sure if that makes me a bad person, but if it does, I don't care. I just Love rooting for an underdog. Even if they've had a few good years, they'll remain an underdog (just like the Red Sox) until they win another pennant. Maybe this will happen sometime in my life, but a part of me hopes it doesn't. I don't want to have to try and pick another team to hate to love.

I guess you could call me a "foul weather fan."

BullShit!

I was sitting here watching TV and not blogging, when I saw on the digital cable guide that this show was on, so I checked it out.

I have to admit, I really liked it. Penn and Teller (or their staff) really do their homework, are not afriad of quoting numbers, and don't pull any punches with the subject matter. I just gotta like that.

They aired two shows back to back. The first was about the myths associated with recycling, and the second was about legalizing drugs. Both points were well thought out, and almost diametrically opposed.

Check it out sometime, it has this closet's seal of approval.

"Beer Mandatory" Update

A follow up to this post, as I finally got a few more ideas from a couple of intrepid souls out there.

Harvey weighs in with:

"in-driveway engine replacements", and "ogling stripper boobies"

I have to nit-pick here, and proclaim that any engine replacement requires a beer. If you take your car to a shop that bans the suds, then you deserve the fleecing you got. As for "boobie-bars", they don't even let anything stronger than beer through the door!

However, both are still good suggestions due to the fact that I currently have a pickup that needs a new engine, and pretty much any evening is a good time to go to the Titty-bar.

Next there's Marty who left a few more in the comments:

Cutting the Grass

Driving to the beach after midnight

Dinner at the mom-in-laws house

Item the first: What's up with all the chores? I wanna do fun stuff! I guess with enough beer anything can be fun, so in the list it goes.

Entry "B": Remember kids, don't drink and drive...unless you're driving to the beach after midnight. Of course, for me, the nearest beach is over seven hours away. By the time I'm done with all the driving, I definately need a beer, so into the list it goes.

The horror at the end: It's bad enough that you have to be at the In-Laws to begin with, but cracking a "cool one" at her dinner table can lead to hours af lectures/stern looks/ or the ever popular "If you're going to drink that stuff, you can get out of my house!" For the first two scenarios, I recommend a six-pack. For the last, WooHoo! You're free! Time to celebrate at the nearest watering hole.

Thanks a lot guys. I appreciate your dedication in this matter. As for the rest of you...the comments are enabled.

Another Bad Habit

(No Harvey, not a Nun with a bullwhip) Ahem...

Like I was saying before I rudely interrupted myself, I've got all sorts of bad habits, and the one that I recently thought of is terribly irritating due to its destructive nature.

So I've had the same pair of sunglasses for about 2 years now. Ten bucks is all I paid for them, and they were still going strong. If you're anything like me, you've probably realized that the fastest way to destroy a pair of shades is to purchase a hunnertnfiddy dollar pair of Gargoyles, so I keep it cheap, and normally keep them forever.

Okay, due to my job, I have to go in and out of doors at least a billion and six times a day, so there's a whole lot of "shades on...shades off." ( /Mr. Miyagi ) What to do with them when they ain't on my face? Shirt pocket? Nope, pack of smokes and three pens. Smock pocket? Nuh uh, grab a hold of that grill in its box, pull to chest, crunch. Put 'em up on your head? Ball Cap! Duh. I know! Hang them from one earpiece out of your back pocket. Yes Daniel San, now go sand the floor or something, you're starting to bother me.

Now you all can see what kind of incidences a body could run into while the "visors" are hanging from your butt. Normally I don't have any problems with the "Gee, I sat on my sunglasses" scenario, due to the fact that I rarely get a chance to sit down. Meanwhile, 2 new pairs of sunglasses later.

However, it's impossible for me to stop this continued carnage against my cheap shades. If the doctor's can isolate the gene that makes me put 'em in my back pocket, there may be hope for future generations, but until then, I guess I'll just keep the sunglass maker's in business.

A message to all "Tree Huggers"

The loverly (That was a typo, but I kinda like it) and talented blogger Maura of Besmirched has found a tree with a "special" message for all you environmentalists out there. See? Trees are smarter than you thought.

Stupid geek quiz!

That LeeAnn is always sending people to stupid quizes.

Here's my results:

Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com

I'm gonna do it...some day.

I finally get around to reading Harvey's blog, and I find this. I have no idea how he got the impression that I'm a filthy-stinking-lowdown-dirty-conniving-underhanded-stumbling-swearing Drunk (please don't read anything below this entry).

One of my dreams is to rent a limo, and get the tickets (when applicable) to see just exactly how many "beer related" activities I can sqeeze into one day. We all know that certain things are just not done without having a "cool one" nearby. My short list is as follows:

Bowling
Baseball
Pool
Fishing
Football
Hockey
Golf
Auto Racing
Poker....

I'm sure that I missed a few. Feel free to comment on anything I might have left out. I want to be sure that I have a Really full day when I get a chance to live out this dream.

I wonder if I can make it into the Guinness book?

Bowling is Fun!

No I don't always indulge in activities involving beer...Just mostly.

I just bowled four games, and won all four, against two other worthy opponents. Then we went and sat at the bar for a bit, and one of the people who sat down with us (during the course of the conversation) made mention that she didn't like guns. Big mistake.

So I opened with "Okay, I've got a gun, and you don't, so who wins?"

She starts in with the "But, but, that's not the point."

I retort with, "That's entirely the point! It's just that simple. Who's going to protect your ass whe you don't have a gun?"

"Well (signifacant other) has skills that no one knows about."

Much continuation of the discourse later, I find out that he's an Ex-Marine, but she seems to think that the "Unnarmed Combat" part of the training is more signifigant than the "Armed" part. Luckily for me (Not for him) I managed to get him to admit that he had guns in the house that she didn't know about. It earned him a hearty handshake, and a "Good on ya Brother!".

I hope there's more out there like him. Just because "She's" afraid, doesn't mean "You" should give up your arms to make her happy.

Keep them around and make sure she's "Safe".

Sometimes life's just good.

I just got back from visiting with my Mom and Dad, and I had a wonderful time. You see, the 'rents are living out my Dad's Dad's dream, which was to live on a houseboat. I always enjoy heading on down to the marina, and getting to "set a spell" with them and visit for awhile.

My sister and brother-in-law showed up just before I did, so we had (essentially) the whole Fam Damnly there. After supper (steak and au-gratin potatoes, mmmm-good) Dad, BIL, and I struck out in search of the elusive and wiley underwater denizens of Tellico Lake.

Our foe this day was the hated and feared (and also known to feel pain) crappie. For those of you out there who have never heard of this particular species, the correct pronunciation is craw-pee. More information is available at this site. So we hit the old fishin' boat at around 7:20 or so.

Meanwhile, 2 lost fishing lures, 3 trees caught, 1 two-pound bass, 3 non-keeper crappie, and 6 keepers later, I looked up and realized that I was having a great time, and was more at peace than I've been in weeks. It never fails to amaze me how much good spending a few hours with my family does for me. I know that I won't have them forever, so I'll just continue to make as many memories with them as I can.

When I was a teenager, I was always too embarrassed to tell them that I loved them, but now I've gotten over that. I always try to tell them how I feel, every time I say goodbye. It's incredible how your perspective changes once the age of thirty is behind you.

Hooked through the Bag

No matter how many times I tell myself that I can quit any time I want to, the temptation seizes me, and I go back to the old behaviour. It's not like I get the shakes without a daily input, but whenever the opportunity arises, I just have to indulge myself. What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment.

I know it's bad for me, and sometimes I can even feel my brain cells dying. I just can't help myself.

Yes it's true. I'm sitting here watching "Attack of the Clones" on cable. Every time it comes on, I have to watch it. The graphics are just too good for me to pass up.

We all know that the acting is terrible, and the plot is a little disjointed, but the story itself is sound, and it's just so pretty.

So I'm an addict. I admit it. I'm sure you all have something that's a guilty pleasure. Share with the class in the comments.

No reason

Well folks, I finally decided to crawl back out from under all the dirty clothes, around the shoes, and peek out the closet door. For your trouble, I'll regale you with a few little facts about me.

You all remember the slogan "Some people perspire. I sweat" right? Well that's me to a tee. I'm just one of those guys who can work up a good sweat while typing on a keyboard. (Incidentally, if this thing shorts out mid-post, it's just a shoddy computer, and I'm in no way responsible.)

In order to fully appreciate the level of my affliction, when I was working at the railroad bearing shop, one of my bosses complaints was that I was "always at the water fountain." I caught him walking by a little later, and showed him my special little trick. It's easy, all you have to do is lift your rubber clad arm up until it's at a 45 degree angle (fingers pointing up), and then slowly make a fist. After he saw the half a cup of pure workers sweat (tm) come pouring out of my glove, he never said another word about my watercooler habits.

I mowed the yard today, and unfortunately, all we have is a push mower. Now the yard isn't all that big, and it wasn't what I would consider hot today (75 degrees or so), but after I was done, it took me nearly a half an hour to finally air dry. I had more liquid in my shirt than I did in my glass of iced tea.

To all of my fellow sweat-hogs out there, I feel your pain. No matter what we do, we'll always be ostracized by all those "Dry People" out there. I'm raising my glass (Bourbon) to all the "Wet Ones" out there. One day we'll unite, grab them all by their dry little necks, and squeeze away...at least until our grips slip.

Damn these sweaty hands!

I am not a racist!

No really, I’m not. In one of my previous professions, (One of them that I completely forgot about when I was doing my “about me” post.) I was the only white guy on the crew. That’s eight total people and everyone but me was black. We were working for a company in East Knoxville that contracted with the varying railroad lines to remanufacture the bearings that the wheels run on. This was the hardest physical labor I’ve ever done in my life.

A few details of the type of work include: bearings come in on pallets, 16 on each pallet, with the average weight of the smallest ones we worked any quantity of, being 75 pounds each. Put on your rubber apron (that reaches well below the knees and comes up to your neck), and your rubber gloves (that go up to mid-bicep). Remove the end cap from the main part of the assembly, Take the holding screws out of the end cap (you don’t have to unthread them, they were used to hold the bearing to the axle), and they go into bin “A”, and the cap itself goes into bin “B”. Take the rest of the bearing and place it into the press (this was merely an air ram that held the bearing firmly to the table). Grab the pry bar, and remove the grease seal. Wipe the grease out of the seal with your gloved hand, and slap it into the 50-gallon drum for recycling. Remove the “cone” from that side, and the spacer that rides between the “cones”. (The cone is the widget that actually holds the many little metal rods that run around inside of the bearing.) Wipe off grease, into the barrel. Raise the press, flip the bearing around, and remove the grease seal and cone from the other side. Stack the “cup” (the cylinder that holds all the parts previously described), both cones and the spacer on the line, and repeat.

Do all of this while standing next to the machine that cleans the really “hard to reach” places of the bearing. This machine is basically an automatic dishwasher with an extreme case of steroid abuse. It will clean 24 bearings at a time, by spraying them with high-pressure jets of a mild strength acid solution. Did I mention that this machine ran at 800 degrees Fahrenheit? After they were cleaned, stack the (extremely hot) bearings on the inspection line. This was a factory here, so forget about air conditioning. The fans did a wonderful job of cooling us off, despite the rubber suits (/sarcasm).

The only thing that kept me sane working in this environment, was the wonderful people I got to work with. Making honky and whitey jokes all the time, fleecing me at craps, and going for beers after work.

One time I dropped the N-Bomb on the guy who cleans up around the place because he was trying to make off with one of my (personally owned) tools. The only comment by the crew was: “Man, you went all White on us there for a minute”. Great bunch of people and I’m proud to have known them.

But. There is one ethnicity that’s out there that I’ve never met a member of that I’ve liked. Puerto Rican. This is probably due to the fact that the ones that I’ve come into any significant social contact with was while I was in the Navy. Most of them were young men, and they were very cocky, and arrogant, and just crawled right under my skin. There was one lady who ran the Uniform fitting assembly line that really sticks with me. I remember 60 guys standing there in their skivvies. She’s barking instructions in a sort of pidgin English. One of my fellow recruits has done something contrary to her instruction, so she intones with: “What da matta mich oo? Don’ oo spik Eenglitch?” This was 15 years ago, and it still stays with me. I didn’t know whether to laugh in her face, or slap her.

Now I’m the type of guy who gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. I actively try to like you if I can. It’s just a vagary of my life that I haven’t run across any Puerto Rican that I’ve liked. I don’t hold it against the country itself, and I hope that I live long enough to find one that’s cool.

It’s an Outrage!

Friends and neighbors, I’m here to tell you that the Great Munuvian Susie of Practical Penumbra has passed judgment on me, and found me wanting. I mean that when I saw this, I broke my monocle in outrage. After retrieving a second eyepiece, I looked again to ensure that my eyes did not deceive me, and damned if I didn’t break my second monocle of the evening, as it was true.

Let’s convene the jury, and take a look at the facts. I put up this brilliant post about disrespect in the workplace. Susie publicly proclaims that it was me that spawned the idea. She finally finds the time to respond with her own ideas. And then she just runs with it. And now there’s a contest.

So now that the facts are in, does any body else here think that I should have been chosen as a Judge? Hmmn?

What’s that you say? Bill is not on my blogroll. Well fine! He’s there now. I’ve been reading Bill since before he took his Christmas hiatus (the bastard didn’t blog anything for almost two weeks!), and I’m telling you I didn’t know how to be Intelligent at that time because he wasn’t showing me the opposite.

I don’t know Stupid? I mean I’m uneducated like Emma, doesn’t that qualify me? All I can say here is that I’ve seen stupid and I’ve been stupid, and I know stupid!

Will I enter the contest to prove that I know stupid? Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. Probably I won’t, just so she doesn’t get the satisfaction of rubbing the idea she stole from me in my face.

I know I’m just a newbie here, but does that give her the right to look down on me from her “Ivory Penumbra” and pass judgment on me? Just slap me in the face with my own idea, and I’d be fine with that? Well I’ll tell you that “this aggression will not stand, man”.

I tried sucking up to her by putting her on my blogroll. I tried making nice comments on her posts. Nothing works with her. I guess that I’m just going to be the “redheaded stepchild” forever.

I can accept the fact that I’m not to be a judge. I can accept that despite coming on to me at first, she now finds me to be uninteresting. I mean I’m still cute, but in a “toxic festering” sort of way. Just like someone of her power, step on the little people to get to the top. I don’t know how I’ll get back at her, but rest assured, victory will be mine!

I’ll find some way to drag myself up to her level, and then we’ll compete as equals. I’m a guy, so I’m going to win!

As long as she doesn’t pull her gender card on me, then I’m screwed.

He kicks and deals. A nice cut fastball, and the count moves to oh and 2.

So I figured that after I got home today, I’d be able to sit back, down a Brewskie or 5, and be able to blog a little bit. Does this happen? In a word, No.

As I arrived, I noticed that the roommate’s wife (RMW) is in the other room, and has a new computer desk. The desk is currently in a Kagillion pieces, as she is in process of assembling it. She didn’t ask for help, and I didn’t offer. (I’m trying to dodge a bullet here, because I’m tired, and I want to sit down for a while.) She’s a bit headstrong when she gets rolling, so I figured that if I offered her some assistance, it would end badly. I don’t want to be making any implications that she is incapable of following the instructions included with the furniture. It’s my little way of ensuring that my testicles remain attached.

Sit down, read some news, get a post up on the blog, just start to read my daily list, and of course it happens.

Dulcet tones wafting from the other room imploring, “Johnny, can you come in here and help me?” Oy vey! Here we go.

Now in her defense, she hasn’t ever assembled furniture before, and we all know there is a certain learning curve to putting these things together. The “Desk in Question” (DIQ) is of the particleboard, faux-oak veneer, cam-bolt and screw-lock variety. They are quite solid once fully assembled, but extremely delicate during the assembly process.

When “Our Hero” arrives, I find her in mid-crisis, as she has joined the first 3 pieces of wood (that comprise the base of the whole structure), she has attempted to turn it over by raising it up where one of the “sides” is flat on the floor, and the other is dangling from the 2 cam bolts that hold it to the backboard, which is now perpendicular to the ground. This is totally bad, as everyone experienced in these things knows, that those cam bolts won’t stay attached to the flimsy boards when the incorrect pressures are applied.

Three deck screws (Remind me to buy a battery-powered screwdriver. Rubbing wrist.) and the underpinnings are now sound. Needless to say, I am now signed on for the rest of the project. It was fun to build, and we had a great time doing it, but now I go from merely being bone-tired, to becoming the Arch Bishop of muscle aches.

Meanwhile, it’s time to go out for some KFC, and curb the old belly of its grumbling issues. I keep the Minivan’s stereo tuned to the local “NewsTalk” station, and I wind up listening to a broadcast of Tennessee Smokies baseball. I don’t know why it is, but I find the sports of baseball and football a lot more interesting on the radio than watching them on TV. Maybe (for me) it’s the fact that I have to engage my imagination to become part of the game. I even do this when I’m watching a Titans game. I turn off the TV’s sound, and tune the radio to the nearest station carrying the game. I’m not sure if it’s a sickness, or what, but I think that the only thing better than listening to Bush-League ball on the radio, is sitting in the stands.

Keep it Up guys!

Boy, it really makes me feel good to come hame from work and see a headline like this: Hamas Leader Killed in Isreali Strike. It's just a fine example of how to properly deal with terrorists.

I Love this quote from Rantisi himself.

"We will all die one day. Nothing will change. If by Apache or by cardiac arrest, I prefer Apache," he said.

I guess he got his wish.

Just keep naming new leaders for Hamas, and I'm sure that the IDF will keep "martyring" them. Sooner or later there'll be a poor guy who just sweeps up the floor after the meetings, named the leader. If he's smart, he'll turn it down, but they never were smart, so I guess we'll get to see all of those savages killed.

Who's next?

Real life intrudes

Work and sleep have kept me from posting. I'll post some actual content tonight.

This one wasn't as transparent as most

But I was still able to get the answer I wanted!

You are Animal.
You are completely nuts, but fun to be around.

SPECIAL TALENTS:
Drums, Women, Food.
HOBBIES:
Drums, Women, Food.

FAVORITE EXPRESSIONS:
"Louder!", "Food now!" and
"Want Woman!"

LAST BOOK EATEN:
"The Musicians' Guide to Drums, Women &
Food"

NEVER LEAVES HOME WITHOUT:
An appetite.


What Muppet are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

DRIVE FAST! DRIVE FAST! DRIVE FAST!

De Plane Bosth! De Plane…I see, Tattoo.

Much as I hate to admit it, I dislike tattoos on the ladies. (Oh! So you like them on men right? Shut up Harvey, you know what I’m talking about.)

I know that they’re all the rage, and it is completely impossible to be “Hip”, “With it”, or “Rad” without them, but I just don’t find them attractive. A little tattoo in a discrete place doesn’t bother me all that much, but some folks just can’t resist getting the whole “Ride to Live / Live to Ride” logo (with the eagle and everything) across their back and down both arms. It’s a little much, is all I’m trying to say.

So there is this coworker of mine, who works in the HBA department, (That’s Health and Beauty Aids for those of you deficient in your retail jargon) who has recently gotten herself a shiny new piece of body art. She’s reeeal proud of it too! She likes to show it off in the back room, essentially to anyone who asks her about it. The problem here is the placement of the aforementioned masterpiece, right across the upper part of her (ahem) backside. I witnessed her showing it to another coworker today, and she just about pulled her pants completely down to make sure he got the full effect. I heard from another coworker, that she has been witnessed pulling her skirt up in order to show it to some other fellows. I’m not saying that this girl is stupid, but whenever I think of these types of actions the term “slower than smoke off shit” spring invariably to mind.

It’s unfortunate, but my gut reaction to anyone with a tattoo like the one described above, is the same as the one I have toward that young lady…a mixture of pity and contempt. I’m trying to get myself past those opinions, but it’s a hard row for me to hoe.

(Heh, I said Hoe)

The Pretty Girls

I just LOVE this time of year. The ladies are breaking out their low-cut blouses, and their “butt pants”, and just all around flauntin’ the goods. This phenomena is a wonder to behold, and keeps me from jumping up on the roof with a Magnum every May.

Before I rudely interrupted myself, I was going to expound upon what makes a girl pretty, so here goes:

Everything!

I personally like a girl to be on the shapelier side of skinny, and no ass, or no gams is a complete deal breaker, but I can generally find something in every lady to ogle. I’m an appreciator of smaller breasteses, but biggun’s don’t hurt my feelings. Hair color means nothing to me. The eyes are important in the fact that there must be a light on somewhere behind them.

All I can think of right now is an old Country song that went:

Big, little, or short, or tall
Wish I coulda kept ‘em all
Ooh I loved ‘em every one

That’s my true philosophy on the beauty of the fairer sex. That and the whole “eye of the beholder” thing.

The Definition of Insanity...

...is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.

I'd been start-stopping on a post all evening, and finally got it close enough to what I wanted to say that I was ready to post it. Alas, sometime between one of my starts and stops, the router had decided to disconnect my machine. Another post lost to the ether.

I have been "fairly warned" that I should type my posts into a word processor, and then do the old copy-paste schtick, but do I listen?

Most of my posts are an off the cuff thought that take me just a few minutes to pound out, so I've lulled myself into complacency. So from now on, I solemnly swear that I will use a word processor so that I won't lose any more posts.

Thanks for putting up with the delays in posting.

Sorry about the lack of posting

I've been pretty busy perusing all the data available for MT, and trying to get things set up here how I want them. Believe me, there is more info out there than I can successfully integrate in one sitting.

There'll be more actual content here shortly...after I've given my brain enough time to reset, after this information overload.

Thanks for the patience.

One way to get your 15 minutes

Every time I sit down at my PC I always skim the headlines for anything that seems interesting. For the most part I don't even bother to read the whole story, as I like my blood pressure to remain under the blowout-a-vein-and-die-drooling-on-my-keyboard level, but sometimes there's something interesting like this.

I wonder if the AP and the Plaza Casino would be pushing this story if the nitwit had lost? I sincerely doubt it. Now, I understand the Plaza's stake in this whole affair, they just want more people to come to thier gambling hall and throw money at them, but what about the AP? What could they possibly be getting out of this? Sure, it's a nice human interest byline, but wouldn't it make more sense to write a story about an animal shelter getting a large donation, than to print something like that?

Stories like this seem to promote people going out and doing foolish things with thier money. I mean Gosh, they could get rich. I wonder how many comp suites, hookers, or lines of credit at the tables it took for Mr. Haring to run with this piece? Judging by the level of today's journalistic integrity, I'm sure it wasn't much.

Hottie's in the workplace

I just dropped in for my lunch break, and I saw this post over at Harvey's, that got me thinking about one of the best perks of working retail. Hot chicks.

Of course not every one of them is *ahem* "bedworthy", as we get a huge cross-section of the populace, but there's enough eye-candy around at any given time to keep me entertained.

What can I say? I'm a guy, and I'm going to look. The even better part is (in light of all the sexual harrassment stuff that we all have to deal with): I can actually flirt with the customers! It's not against any rule, anywhere I've seen.

As for the who is pretty and why part, I'll have to wiegh in later. The salt mine calleth me back.

Duuuh! (or thank insert Diety here that I have a job with a name tag)

Thanks to a post by Emma of Missapropos, I'm now thinking about the fact that I have never been a college student.

I take a certain pride in the fact that "all" I've got is a high school diploma. I know that I should be sitting here drooling on my keyboard because I'm one of the "unwashed masses", but I just can't seem to bring my IQ down far enough to pull it off.

I've had many fine debates with those of the "upper crust" wherein I've been able to completely decimate thier talking points, or at least been able to shock them so much that they were unable to argue with me anymore. Should I take as much sheer glee from these situations as I do? Probably not, but It's awful entertaining.

What follows is a conversation between myself and two of my (college educated) former peers:

(The discussion at the time was concerning our Second Amendment Rights)

Me: I'd be happy if everyone in America was given a Firearm tomorrow.

Both peers: (Laughing) are you nuts?

Me: No. I'm absolutely serious.

Peer #1: I can't believe you just said that!

Peer #2: Don't you realize how many people would be killed overnight?

Me: Oh yes I do, and I think that if you're stupid enough to draw down on someone you know is armed, then I'm glad you're dead. Get the Fuck out of my gene pool!

Peer #2: I think that's the crudest thing you've ever said!

Me: maybe so, but that's what I believe.

I think this is a fine example of independent thinking. I have my opinions, that I've gained from the most noteworthy of all educational institutions: The school of Hard Knocks. If any of these people had ever been on the wrong end of a gun, I believe that they took the wrong lesson away from the incident. Niether of them had anything further to add to the subject, whereas I still had a few things "waiting in the wings" for them if they chose to pursue the subject. All they seemed to have is thier educational conditioning, and I had a fully formed opinion.

If that's what college does for you, then count me out.

Another thing to remember...It's not the age, it's the mileage.

Off to the salt mines

Gotta go to work, so I will resume playing with this thing after 11 PM.

posted by Johnny - Oh

Sheez this place looks bare

I gots a new home! Happy Dance, Happy Dance, Happy Dance!

However...now I've got a lot of work to do. Making pictures, setting up links, stalking reading the blogs of my new peers. Ah well, sleep is for wusses anyway. :)

Give me a day or two to get settled in, and then we'll be off to the races.

I just thought about a good name for a post for the new MuNu blogger's. "The new Mu review." Kinda catchy.

Anyhow, off to learn more about MT.

posted by Johnny - Oh