The news today

Ever since I was a teenager I have depended on the comic page in the daily newspaper as one source of news.  There are exceptions of course. When I was a sophomore in high school in 1954, Mary Worth had a heart attack but she is still going strong over 60 years later while many of the other characters in the strip have passed on. Isn't modern medicine wonderful??  But I digress.

In todays installment of the comic strip, "Mallard Fillmore", Santa is cradling a college snowflake in his arms.  Santa says, "Im sorry but my only elf that made footie pajamas in your size had to be euthanized".

Sometimes even Santa can't help himself.  Stay tuned.

Voter I.D.

I got my Indiana driver’s license renewed today.  I had to present my Passport, my birth certificate, a current utility bill , my SS card and my voters registration card as well as my expired license in order to satisfy all the identification requirements. There will be an imbedded chip in the license that will allow me entrance to all federal buildings and airports. I asked the clerk if the picture they took would be subject to facial identification .  He indicated the technology to do that would be in place “soon”. That means that all my information (including SSN) would be on file and could be compared at ANY point of need.  If the government is using it now,  that means that the technology will soon be in place for the general public.  There will be no need to carry any personal I.D.  of any kind because everyone will KNOW who you are.  Big brother is among us and live and well.  The good part will be that an illegal would not be able to purchase a can of pop at  a 7-11.  

What is your state doing ??
Addendum:  It is now several days later than my original post.  I noticed that My drivers license clearly states "valid for driving privileges and voter identification ". The license is good for three years which means it is only good for one presidential election.  It addition I learned that Amazon is currently selling facial recognization software to police departments. 

End the war in Europe

The following all took place in the summer of 1944.  The weather was warm, so it must have been shortly after D-Day, June 6, 1944 because I was aware that we were fighting the Germans in Europe.  I was six years old and had not as yet started school, so my vocabulary was limited.  I had never heard of the words, “testicles”, “gonads”, or “scrotum”.  I had not yet started to associate with the older boys, so I was not even familiar with the words “nuts” or “balls”.  I was aware of that useless fold of skin between my legs just below my “wee-wee”.  It was called a “bag”.  Now that we have the groundwork laid out I will proceed.

I was helping my dad build a feeding station in the barnyard.  It was constructed from shiplap and 2 X 4s.  He was using a hand saw to cut the 2 X 4s so there were several short pieces laying around on the ground.

I told my dad that I knew how to end the war.  I said that we could take short pieces of 2 X 4s and nail the Germans soldiers “bag” to the piece of wood.  Dad gave me a long look and did not say anything for a moment.  I think he must have been trying to decide if I was a sadistic little son-of-a-bitch or if I was a deep-thinking moron-genius ahead of my time.  He finally said, “yes son, I would guess that would take the fight out of them”.  I was really proud to have figured out how to end the war.

Perhaps that was just an early sign that I was meant to be an engineer.

Dal and the lizard

I was sitting peacefully on the patio yesterday when a chameleon slithered across the concrete and stopped about six feet in front of me.  He rose up on his front legs and flashed his red “wattle” at me for about 15 seconds and then turned and strutted away.  I don’t know if he was challenging me and thought he had won since I didn’t react OR had put the make on me and decided that I was not a female chameleon worthy of his attention.  I have found there are some questions in life that you just cannot answer.

Tractors of death

Tractors of death

Before retirement I collected and restored classic antique tractors and consider myself fairly knowledgeable on the subject of tractors.

A 1928 John Deere model GP with a 2 cylinder gas powered engine was rated at 10 horsepower at the drawbar.  It could pull two 14 inch bottom plows at a ground speed of 2.3 MPH. through sandy or muck soils with ease.

Contrast that tractor’s capabilities to a 1972 John Deere model 4020.  It had a 6 cylinder diesel powered engine that was rated at 84 horsepower at the drawbar.  It could pull six, 16 inch bottom plows through heavy clay soils at a much faster ground speed than the “GP”.  Its drawbar pull was well over 10,000 pounds.

Nine out of ten people that have read this article so far have absolutely no idea of what I have just stated nor do they have any idea if it is true or not.  (It is)

Compare the above data statements with the current debate on guns.  Current lobbies and pressure groups with no knowledge of the subject of tractors would prohibit the possession, ownership, or use of the latter, higher capacity and greater speed, of the two tractors.  They might even frown upon the use or ownership of the tractor with the antique plowing capacities.  If all tractor technology were completely outlawed the farmer would be left with only a single bottom plow pulled by a team of horses or a yoke of oxen.  I do agree that it would be a good idea to have the farmer’s background checked to see if he has a history of mistreating animals and he might even take a course in the proper care and feeding of his oxen.

I rest my case.  Oh, I forgot, both of the tractors, (or even the oxen) in the hands of a madman are capable of causing mass mayhem and death.  Dal Wolf, Naples

Cab ride over the Mississippi

There are things that happen during your lifetime that make you forever remember a place or thing.  In my case I will NEVER forget that Davenport Iowa is right across the Mississippi river from Rock Island Illinois.  Allow me to explain.  I was on my way home from El-Paso to Ft. Wayne in April of 1961.  I was riding coach on the Santa Fe railroad.  I had not been home in some time and was really looking forward to it because Connie and I were to be married on April 22ed.

The conductor came through the car and announced there would be a half hour stop in Rock Island Illinois.  The train stopped and my buddy and I got off to stretch our legs.  I was looking at a magazine in the depot a few minutes later when I saw the train start to move out.  I dropped the magazine and bailed out of the depot and started to run after the train.  My buddy was running after me.  I saw the conductor on the back of the last car and I yelled, “stop you son of a bitch, stop”.  He just watched me as the train pulled away leaving me in the dust.  It was sort of like the old comic strip where Dagwood chases the trolley.

There was a cab driver chasing both of us yelling, “We can catch up with the train”.  I found out that the train had stopped in Davenport Iowa to let ONE passenger off.  My buddy and I paid $5 each to ride in a cab across the Mississippi river from Davenport to catch the train in Rock Island.  Geography lesson learned.  I did not un-ass my seat until we got to Chicago.  I wondered how many times that cab driver had done the same thing for some dumb shit that missed the train.

On that same trip I met a guy that invited me to his compartment.  He wanted to give me an enema. (No shit -- pun intended.)  I declined his offer but that is another story.