The year 1961

The year 1961 started out great for me.  First I got promoted to E-5 in the US Army.  Then on April 22ed I was lucky enough to marry the love of my life, Connie.  She and I went to Ft. Bliss, Tx so that I could finish my tour of duty in the Army.  Then in August of 1961 things took a turn for the worse.  Barack Hussian Obama was born on August 4th 1961.  (probably in Kenya) Then on August 13th, 1961 the Soviets built the Berlin wall.  On the 15th of August the Army politely informed me that my tour of duty was being "extended" because my MOS was classified as "critical" because the Nike Hercules missile system I was attached to had  nuclear capabilities .  April 22ed was the only positive date in 1961. 

 (I still think that Obama had something to do with the building of that wall even though he was only 9 days old at the time)

DEATH OF THE DINOSAURS

DEATH OF THE DINOSAURS

 

I watched two shows on the Science channel last night and it allowed me to solve one of the mysteries that have caused scientists to argue for years.  What killed the dinosaurs?        

The first show was about stink!!!  One of the examples was how a cow produces hydrogen sulfide and methane gas.  The narrator said that the three million cows in the U.S. produce more methane gas that all of the cars combined.  The reason for the large amount of gas was that the grass and grain eaten by the cow was converted to methane during the digestion process.    Wow!!!     

The second show was about dinosaurs.  It seems that those dinosaurs that were not eating each other were consuming large amounts of vegetation.   Are you starting to make a connection here?  Good!!  The herbivore dinosaurs produced large amounts of methane gas, the same as cows.  This has been verified by examining the coprolites (look that one up) produced by the herbivore dinosaurs.

Now for my conclusion.  Get ready for this.    The large amount of methane caused global warming.  The seas rose and all the dinosaurs drowned!!!  Just ask Algore.

I know, you think that I don’t have enough to do.  Not true.  I am just taking a break from work.

Dal

GLOBAL WARMING

Global Warming and other things that worry me.

 

There is one aspect of the global warming crises that really worries me.  No, it is not the fact that Algore will become a zillionaire because of the cap and trade that is supposed to solve the problem by taxing your tail off.  The real crisis is the methane caused by cows that pass methane gas.

The only way to allow Algore and G.E. to make money off the cow methane is to tax the cow.  I do not personally know any cow that presently pays any taxes, do you?  If you cannot tax the cow, then you must tax the owner of the cow, much the same as the government taxes your car.  The problem now arises as to how much the cow, or the cow owner should pay.

Should the tax be determined by the size of the cow, its age, or by its accessories?  Does a cow with two horns pay more than a cow with no horns?  Would black cows be exempt from the tax?  How about “green cows”?  Will they get a tax break?

  The only fair way to determine what amount the cow will pay would be to install a meter on each cow to measure the frequency of methane discharge as well as the amount of methane expelled.  G.E. could manufacture the required meters at the same time they are creating the “smart grid”

  I have a personal fear of the methane tax.  I have a tendency to eat fast and therefore swallow a lot of air.  You engineers are aware, according to Newton, that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.  I expel the swallowed air much in the same way a cow expels the methane.  Will I be required to wear a “methane meter” much the same as the unfortunate cow?  Will I be taxed by the cubic feet of gas expelled or will there be a “flat flatus tax” assessed?

  This causes me to really be fearful because wearing a meter would embarrass me and I would have to hide the methane meter.  I could wear a hoop skirt or a bustle to hide the meter but this has the danger of someone mistaking my modesty for sexual dysfunction.  My only out would be to wear a bourka, much like a Muslim woman.  The problem here is that if I happened to speak to a male friend and was spotted by a Muslim man, I could be stoned to death

  As you can tell, this situation really has me worried. There is another item that has me equally worried.  It is   PIG ODOR.  As I understand it is really bad in Iowa.  As I see it there are several things that could be done.  First would be to give the pigs a deodorant.  I don’t know if underarm deodorant would work as pigs do not have arms.  Someone would have to come up with an under ham and under shank deodorants or perhaps a combination of both.  This of course, would require a multi-million dollar grant from the government. The pigs could also be mandated by the government to take weekly baths.

   I have a much simpler solution to the problem but I can see why no one in government would consider it.  I would simply move the people upwind of the pigs or move the pigs downwind from the people.  Damn I am smart.    

  Turtle mortality also bothers me.  It can be a real problem in Florida.  In Florida the turtles are much like the people. They cannot read.  They tend to cross the roads where there are no crosswalks.  The result is that turtle meets tire and the result is the turtle tends to lose the encounter.  Fortunately our congress has come up with a plan to install “turtle underpasses” at strategic points along the hi-ways.  The only thing that has not been determined is how Algore can get his bread hooks on the stimulus money.  As soon as that is figured out, construction can begin.

Since I started this missile the government has come up with several new ideas; among them are the “Cash for Clunkers” program and the latest version of “Obamacare”.  God help us all!!!

KICK THE CAN

Kick the can

Last night I took the garbage can and the recycling bin out to the end of my driveway as is my usual Sunday evening custom.  As I turned to go back to the house, I saw a metal soup can (Campbell’s Tomato, 10 ¾ oz, with pull tab top) lying on top of the recycling bin.  Those of you that know me are aware that I have always been ready to do my part for the country.  I did what any patriot would do; I took the can from the recycling bin, placed it in the road and kicked it.  It felt so good to be doing my part that I kicked it again.  My neighbor saw me and called to his wife, “that crazy damned Wolf is at it again”.  I paid him no heed.  After kicking the can down the road for two blocks, I felt much better.  I knew that I had done my part to alleviate the budget crisis.

 

With tongue firmly in cheek.  Dal

YOU KNOW YOU ARE GETTING OLD --- WHEN

                           YOU KNOW YOU ARE GETTING OLD WHEN:

The barn you watched being built when you were a little kid was recently torn down

Your son is getting bald

You look forward to your afternoon nap

You see a mother and her 20 something daughter on the beach and you check out the mother first

Your WIFE is getting wrinkles

Walking out to get the mail counts as part of your daily exercise regimen

Golf makes you tired

You cannot imagine anyone getting up at 6 AM to go to work

Your Saturday night pinochle group keeps “losing” players

Your favorite place at the pool is the hot tub

All your friends have hearing aids too

You are older than most of the trees in your yard

Your scalp is turning pink

You have these funny brown spots on your hands

The cars that used to make you salivate as a teenager can only be found at car shows

All automobiles today look alike

And finally, you sit at the computer and cannot think of more things to add to your list,    DAL

 

THE PEACOCK

The peacock

 

I thought that I had written about the peacock before, but I found no mention of it in my previous blogs – so here it is.

When I was a kid we lived on a small “hobby farm”.  It was my dad’s hobby, but I did all the shitty work.  We had many “exotic” animals, amongst them was a peacock and his mate, a peahen.  The peacock was a blue iridescent color with many paisley designs in his feathers.  He would often spread his tail feathers and admire himself.

  Once, when I was showing a high school friend the peacocks, I happened to notice that when his tail feathers were fanned out, his rectum tended to turn wrong side out and protrude about an inch and a half.  What would any 16-year-old kid do?  If you said that a normal person would just walk away, you must realize that I am NOT a normal person.  I snuck up behind the peacock and stuck my forefinger straight up his rectum.  I guess I had not thought through what the peacock’s reaction would be.

  The peacock let out a loud squawk and leaped about 10 feet.  A peacock is mostly feathers so leaping that far was an easy feat.  He hit the ground running.  I was scared that he would escape his pen, so I started to run after him.  My buddy joined the chase.  You have no idea how fast a peacock can run and then fly.  The chase was hopeless, but the peacock kept on running.  My buddy wisely left me to my fate.

  I wisely made no mention of the “poking affair” to my dad or mom.  Problem is the peacock told them.  It was raining like the devil and the peacock was back in the small woods behind the house.  He started to call for his mate and my mom heard him.  She went looking for him and found him on a tree limb about 6 feet off the ground.  He was soaked and could not fly.  Mom got a small step stool and was able to grab the peacock’s leg.  Then they both fell to the ground.  Mom brought him back to the house and threw him into the coop. She was as mad as a wet hen, just the same as the peacock.

  I won’t go into the tale of the punishment I received.  Let’s just say it was a lesson well learned.  A short time later dad got rid of the peacock.  I have never poked a peacock in the ass since then.

Leaving Egypt.

You may recall that I wrote a story some time back about Moses and the Jews leaving Egypt and the trials and tribulations they suffered during their time of enslavement in Egypt. But there is more to the story. So here we go:

 

  The whole thing started in western Libya when a camel train with 100 tons of bat guano fertilizer was derailed in the middle of the Sahara. Then a freighter load of herbicides, pesticides and hybrid seed got stranded in Alexandria Egypt because it ran out of bunker oil. The boat was raided by a bunch of mafia thugs and the grain carted off to Sicily to make whiskey.  The bunker oil needed to get the boat under way could not be imported from Russia because of Putin’s war.

  The Egyptians planted what seed they had left over from the last year’s harvest.  It was not a hybrid seed, so, combined with the lack of the bat guano fertilizer, the output was small, and the people were starving.  The bugs and weeds were overtaking everything because of the lack of chemical control.  To top that all off a red dye factory upstream in Ethiopia on the Nile suffered a catastrophic leak in a storage tank and the Nile turned red.  That dye was meant to be used to give the Burka worn by all Muslim women in Egypt its distinctive red color.  The factory never recovered and since that time the standard burka has been dyed black

  The P-Man was at his wits end and the soldiers and the people were restless.  The P-man gave the soldiers the day off, so they took their horses for a swim in the Red Sea.  They did not bother to take along any life vests and We all know how that turned out.  After the swimming debacle the P-Man canceled plans for a Labor day holiday for the citizens. 

There were also several boat loads of granite being shipped from Vermont that were meant to finish off the top of the Great Pyramid. Those boats were torpedoed by a German U-boat in the Atlantic just off the Iberian Peninsula. Fortunately, many of the sailors were rescued by the Free French resistance fighters.

I remain, With tongue firmly in cheek,  Dal               There is still much more to the story

Transgender youth

I got to thinking about transgender children today and thought back to my early childhood when I was in the first grade of elementary school.  There were eleven of us in the class, 3 boys and 8 girls.  The girls always seemed to be having fun while we boys just didn’t socialize with each other.  The reason was that I was the extrovert of the three.  One other boy was an only child and was sort of shy.  The third fellow was borderline special needs and NO ONE associated with him.  Since I talked all the time the only kids to talk to were girls.  We all had a lot of fun together as most kids do.  Sex was not an issue then because most of us had not been informed of the birds and the bees and certainly had no sexual attraction to each other at that tender age.

  In today's world some adult “woke” teacher might look at me and say, “aha he identifies as a girl”.  And things would go downhill from there

Conspiricy theroies

I started out the day with my usual ten minutes vigorous workout in the gym.  Next, I took a casual ride around the park in my golf cart.  I stopped by the pool to check out the college girls on spring break.  There were only two there.  The fat one in the flesh- colored thong was just plain unattractive.  The one with buck teeth and a goiter was no better.

  I went back home, ate my lunch and watched TV for a while.  The only thing on TV was the continuing rehash of Ukraine.  This time they started showing bodies in the street.  The next item was the latest about the slapping incident at the Oscars. I didn’t bother to watch the “Naked and afraid “show because it was a repeat and I had seen all of those same bare butts before.  So, I took a nap. After my nap I decided It was too hot to go outside to play.  There was nothing left to do so I decided to explore a conspiracy theory.        Here we go.

The newspapers are continuing to ramp up the story about the foibles of Hunter Biden.  In my opinion, if the papers are starting to talk about it, legal indictments must be on the way. These indictments may include Joe as an “unindicted conspirator”.  If so, Joe will be under considerable political pressure.  He will have two options.  He can either resign the office of POTUS now or wait until after the midterms to be impeached by a republican house and senate.  My guess is that he will resign.  Comma Harris will be smart enough (believe it or not) to realize that taking over after Joe would be her downfall.  She will also resign stating that, “Joe and I are a team”.  That leaves Nancy Pelosi next in line.  Nancy will decline the job saying that her position of running the house and continuing to implement the Biden “bring back better” plan is too important to the country to allow someone else to oversee the plan.  It would also prevent her from returning to San Francisco each weekend to supervise the hosing down of the homeless poop from the sidewalk outside her walled estate.

  Next in line for the presidency is Patrick Leahy, President pro tempore of the United States Senate.  He will accept the job stating that his service will be as a caretaker ONLY and that he will not run for president in 2024 since he is currently 82 years old. He will briefly consider mayor Pete for the job of VP, but the democrat hierarchy will decide that going back to South Bend and running for mayor again is a much more important position for the party.  Leahy will then appoint as his vice president, WAIT FOR IT --------- HILLERY CLINTON.

  I told you it was too hot to go out and play.

 

Life begins at conception

This was written by a late friend.  I have given him credit at the end.

As far as observable science is concerned, human life begins at conception.”

For the moment, let’s ignore the above and just agree on the following:

1. Something is created at conception when a sperm unites with an egg. The Something never existed before the conception.
2. The Something undergoes a continuous development process after conception. The development is slow & methodical. Unless you’re actually counting molecules in the Something, it is virtually impossible to detect the incremental changes from day to day. The physical development continues for roughly 20 years. The mental development continues longer.
3. There is, at the 9 month point, a transition wherein the development environment changes from inside-the-womb to outside-the-womb. Some new bodily functions start, like breathing air. The physiology of the Something is not changed by the birth, it just gets oxygen & food by different processes.

Suppose now we ask, “When, in this continuous development process, does this Something become a human life and become entitled to the unalienable Right to Life?” Suppose we demand that this question be answered by science using whatever diagnostic tools that are available to the scientists, which tools are, of course, continually undergoing development & improvement themselves. Suppose the scientists come up with an answer that life begins X days after conception. Now, the skeptic asks, “How about X+1 days? After all, your instruments cannot see any change from day X to day X+1 so you have no real basis for choosing X. Furthermore, I do not accept your decision making criterion because it is arbitrary and without rationale.” So, the scientists acquiesce and agree that X+1 is acceptable. Another skeptic comes along and lobbies for X+2 days using similar arguments. With enough skeptics we are soon at the 20 year point.

So, you see there really is no scientific answer other than to say that the Something was a human life at the moment of conception. [As a scientist, I personally have no reservations about this conclusion.] Hence, scientifically speaking, an abortion is the taking of an (innocent) human life. The deliberate and premeditated taking of a human life, other than as a punishment by government for a capital crime, is MURDER, plain & simple. You can talk yourself into believing whatever you want, as do the mothers who voluntarily seek & obtain 1.2 million abortions per year in America. But, as for me, I’ll take X=0. Science & logic cannot justify any other conclusion.

Of course, if one believes that there is no unalienable Right to Life, or that “government” has the authority to determine who deserves such a right and when they deserve it (aside from capital punishment), then all bets are off, and we’ve entered a brave new world. 

    Dale Arthur Holmes. Pahrump, Nevada

Lucy and her friend Ethel

Lucy and Ethel

 

The following is a narrative of a situation much like Lucy and Ethel and the cake conveyor that was on TV years ago but remains a classic.

 

During the seventies when I was working as a manufacturing engineer, I was assigned to work with another engineer on the installation of a new “stator brushing machine”. I will spare you many of the un-understandable details with the project and just hit the highlights.

 

First of all the other engineer could only get one machine building company to bid on the new machine. Others said it couldn’t be done. Red flag, Red flag!!!! I was tasked with determining the machine cycles, load and unload time and pieces per hour expected, along with cost data.

 

The gist of the operation was as follows.

1. Unload part from machine and load to pre-bake oven conveyor.
2. Load and process next part on brush machine.
3. Unload pre-bake oven conveyor and assemble to final bake oven conveyor.

 

When I compared the machine cycle to the speed of the conveyors I found that the first oven conveyor was cycling faster than the brushing machine and the final bake oven was running slower than the brush machine. This created an impossible bottleneck at the brushing machine. Neither of the conveyor speeds could be changed due to the cure time of the materials involved

 

Needless to say, a meeting was called to resolve the problem. The boss, (who was a Dilbert’s boss look alike), suggested that I change the time allowed to load and unload the machine and ignore the machine cycle. The other engineer nodded his head in agreement with the boss. I sat there with my mouth cycling open and closed but nothing was coming out .The machine, which cost $200,000 dollars never produced a piece and just sat there like the pile of iron that it was.

 

I had another project with the same guy a few years later. This time I took his “projected time” that he and the machine salesman had given me and simply multiplied it by four. He howled like a scalded dog. It turned out that I was 10% low with my estimate. The same boss gave me hell for missing the mark.

 

The factory closed two years later due to inefficiency.

 

Power wash your house

Power wash your house

 

Would you rather spend $125 or $10 to power spray wash your doublewide house??  If your answer is $125, just scroll on to the next item. You do not need the following wonderful information. The answer to the $10 wash is that it is a do-it-yourself project.  It is not difficult and if you are machoistic, you might even enjoy it.  The secret is to have the right tools.

  The first thing you need is a 1 ½ gallon sprayer.  You can get a good “bleach sprayer” at Home Depot for $17.  I have included a picture of the one that I just purchased.  Don’t be cheap and get the one that costs a few bucks less or you will be sorry.  Trust me.

  Cleaning Ingredients are Clorox, water and laundry soap.  It also helps to have some ratty clothes to wear.  You will always end up with some interesting Rohrbach blots on your clothes.  Pour a half gallon of bleach into the sprayer.  Fill the empty bottle with water and pour that into the sprayer.  Finally add a cup of laundry soap.  Add the ingredients in order as listed.  Remember that I told you so.  DO NOT TRY TO SKIMP ON THE BLEACH.  You need a strong mixture to do the job.  Pump up the sprayer and you are ready to go. (note). Buy the Clorox in ½ gallon bottles.  That makes it much easier to get the proper mix.

  Start spraying at the bottom of the siding.  Aim for the seam between the two pieces of siding.  The reason for starting at the bottom is to assure that you do not miss any spots. Keep spraying only the dry surfaces.   Only spray an area about 5 feet wide.  This eliminates frequent moving of the sprayer.  Picking a handy reference point will aid in doing a complete job.  It is VERY important to keep the sprayer wand in motion.  You are not spraying a wasp nest so there is no need to keep a steady stream on one spot.

  The only place you will need a ladder is on the gable ends above the windows.  Be sure to have someone with you when you are on the ladder.  Safety first.  Wait until the sprayer is almost empty before doing the gable.  That sprayer can get very heavy when holding it on a ladder.

  Don’t be in a hurry to wash down the siding.  Let the solution work for a while before you rinse it off.  A good rule of thumb is to wash down the completed area after you run out of cleaner and need a refill.  The time between sprayer refills is a good time to stop and have a beer, maybe two.  There is no need to rush things.

  It will take one refill, or two (2) sprayer loads of spray mix to do the entire house.  If you are a picky person, it may take three.  When you are all done, stand back and admire your work.  You should be able to do the whole house and enjoy your beer in about an hour and a half.  It is also a good idea to have another beer after you are finished

FLYING TO FLORIDA - 2021

Flying to Florida – 2021

We left Flint Michigan at 12:02 PM on November 7, 2021 and arrived in Punta Gorda, Florida at

4:42 that afternoon. A friend picked us up and an hour later we were at our winter home in

Naples. The trip was not without incident. Allow me to explain in the following essay which will

contain many truths, half-truths, and a few downright lies.

Allegiant Airlines told us that it was necessary to be at the airport two hours before our

departure. We did just as we were told. The problem is that frequent fliers know the airlines

always lie about departure times. The wise people get there three hours early and do not have

to wait in line. There were 75 people ahead of us when we arrived. Lesson learned.

When it came our turn to be checked in, we had to show our boarding passes and photo I.D. I

told the lady behind the counter that the handsome dude in the picture was really me. She just

looked at me and grunted. I interpreted her grunt as a friendly one, but one ever knows for

sure.

We followed our bags along a conveyor until they disappeared into a tunnel. There was a

huge bulge in the middle of the tunnel. I knew it was either an X-ray machine to look of knives

and guns or a hammer mill to destroy our suitcases and save the baggage handlers the trouble.

Since our bags appeared unscathed at the other end, I surmised that it must have been an X-ray

machine.

Next came the TSA check. Unloading the carry-on was not so bad but I had to go through the

scanner three times. Once for my belt buckle, once for my pacemaker, and a third time for my

cochlear implant. I can only say that I was fortunate that I was not wearing my cast iron jock

strap. Then it was back to repack my carry on. The fellow ahead of me had his satchel half full

of condoms. He must have been a condom salesman with a portable showcase. Either that or

he had a large weekend planned. And it was already noon on Saturday. The TSA lady

inspecting the items just stood there bug eyed, with her mouth gaping open. I would not

hazard to guess her thoughts.

After the TSA inspection we had to walk 4 miles to the boarding gate. There was a separate

line for Vets to get our boarding passes scanned, so we took that line. It was longer than the

regular draft dodger line. One poor guy did not have a smart phone with the Allegiant app, so

he had to fill out a form. I think that cost him extra.

Then we boarded the plane and found our seats. The lady sitting next to the window was an

interesting person. She was at least 35 years old but was wearing Levi’s with huge holes in the

knees. She was sitting there with her legs spread apart. With my vast knowledge of convection

air currents, I knew in an instant that the purpose of the holes in the knees was to cause a draft

to cool off the gates of hell. And you thought I was stupid. She had a portable video player

with an external battery. She watched a video during the whole flight. I glanced over (just

once) and saw that the video was a bunch of naked people dancing. I have no idea if it was a

porn movie or just an instructional video.

Before we took off the pilot gave a long speech about something or other. He had a Latino

accent, but I heard him mention, “Cerveza, Dos Equis, and Cinco”. I do not know if it meant

that we got five free beers on the flight or that he had had five Double X beers before takeoff.

After the pilot was finished with his speech the IOU stewardess, (Inept, Old, &; Ugly) gave her

own speech. I heard her mention “fuel oil, orange juice, and free”. She mentioned the “free”

at least 10 times. I was not able to figure out what was free, and I do not wish to speculate. On

top of that, she was wearing an orange life vest during her monologue and explained how to

use it if we crashed in the gulf.

Then we took off. The first hour was uneventful but then we hit some turbulence. The pilot

warned us ahead of time, but it was no big deal. No wings fell off because the folks three rows

ahead of us were holding them on. The fellow across the aisle from me was wearing a walking

boot splint. He got excited about the turbulence. He jumped up from his seat and started

shouting “We’re all gonna die. We’re all gonna die. I will have to admit that the IOU

stewardess handled the situation like a professional. She approached the guy and solidly

planted a knee in his groin and then a heel on the top of his walking boot, all in one smooth

action. He immediately sat down and did not un-ass his seat for the rest of the flight.

Then we landed. We taxied at least several miles until we finally stopped somewhere close to

the terminal. Many people (including me) immediately jumped from their seats and grabbed

their bags from the overhead. Then we all stood there for twenty minutes. The frequent flyers

were smart enough to just sit there and wait their turn to disembark.

As we exited the plane each person ripped off his or her mask. At the bottom of the stairs

were two TSA employees saying to each passenger, “masks on, masks on”. If I were a young

person fresh out of college, I do not think that would be a career path I would wish to follow. As

my late father used to say, “that is as worthless as tits on a boar hog”

The baggage claim was uneventful. Almost every bag was different. It did strike me as a good

idea to code your baggage. Our neighbor picked us up at the airport and drove us to Naples.

She was right on time and delivered us to our door.  Her rate was very competitive. 

A day at the links

It all started when Connie decided that I needed a bit more culture in my life.  Just because she goes to things like the “Ladies Tea” out on Marco Island does not mean that I cannot hang out with my buds.  See, everything that follows is her fault!!!

She finally bought two tickets to the third round of the “Ace” PGA tour event here in Naples on Saturday and informed me that at least I could go to a cultural sporting event.  Let me tell you, I found out it ain’t like football.  The golf event was held at the Twin Eagles golf club east of Naples.  It is an 18 hole championship course with mega-houses build around the playing field.  The great unwashed herd does not live there.  To get to the event we had to drive 6 miles east of the course to the Collier county fairgrounds.  Shuttle buses picked up the spectators there and transported them to the golf course.

As we entered the gated community around the course, the driver pointed out that some of the huge houses had as many as seven bathrooms.  The only kind of person that I could think of that needed or would buy such a house would be an Arab sheik with diarrhea.            Any way!!!

We found a comfortable place right on the ninth hole where the “B” flight would finish the day.  There were players like Tom Kite, (floppy hat and pink shirt), Craig Saddler (he earned the nickname “The Walrus”), And Benhard Langer. (Tall and skinny with big feet)  There were a lot more names that I did not recognize but then I am not a golf fan.  Langer was leading with a -11 on the ninth green.  You can always tell which one in the group is the Pro golfer.  He is the one with one glove in his hip pocket.  The pros all seemed to spot their first shot about 175 yards from the cup.  The course guide said it took a “long” iron to reach the green.  All the clubs looked the same length to me.

It seemed that everyone had a name tag or other means of identification.  There were the “Pro tour officials”, “The rules officials” and many more.  There was one guy that even had a card that read “Honored observer” (no joke).  I have no idea what was his claim to fame.  I shouldn’t brag but even I had a tag that I was required to wear.  It read “$10 off parking”.  The volunteer helpers all wore orange tee shirts.  They all took their jobs serious.   One of their duties was to keep the “great unwashed” quiet while the golfers were putting.  There was one fellow that I nicknamed the “chief Librarian”. As a golfer lined up his putt the Librarian would raise both arms in the air much like Eisenhower giving the victory sign.  He had about six minions placed around the green that took his lead and held up their hands as well.  After the putt was made, he would lower his arms and clap.  This was the O.K. sign for everyone else to clap.  If the golfer missed an easy putt it was permitted for the crowd to give a collective sigh.  Golf sure is a quiet spectator sport. 

There was one threesome that did really bad on their approach shots and putting.  It apparently was not a coincidence that there were five vultures circling overhead.  One of those guys made a “double bogie”. Apparently he must have won a prize for that.  Some of the guys would make a really bad shot that I am sure gave all the duffers in the gallery a warm feeling.  The caddies all carried golf bags the size of a 1962 Volkswagen.  The bags were all emblazoned with various sponsors’ logos as well as the players’ name.  The caddies held onto those bags all during the round unless they were giving the pro a club.  One of the pros was really a cheapskate.  He had his wife caddie for him.  No 10% caddie tip for him.  Nothing like keeping it all in the family.

One of the spectators just behind the rope made the mistake of trying to get a picture of one of the players with his cell phone camera.  One of the “orange shirts” dashed over and wagged a finger in his face and admonished him to not disturb the players.  There was one fellow there that had a camera with a lens as long as your arm.   He was allowed to take pictures as long as he hid behind one of the “orange shirts”.  There were also people that accompanied each group that carried what looked like a baseball bat covered with fur.  They also had a backpack with an aerial on the top.  Interesting.

There were other oddities like the woman in front of me that had a tattoo of a nicely decorated cross just above her ankle.  I tried to get a closer look to see if it was Christ on the cross but Connie took exception to my looking at the woman’s leg.  There was another woman in front of us that had a HUGE emerald cut diamond on her left hand.  She also had her toenails painted red.

As each threesome finished the round, they would go to the official scorer’s tent and sign their score cards.  Did you know that golf is the only sport where the individual keeps his own score?  I didn’t.  After the player left the tent there were “golf groupies” that wanted autographs.  They acted like teeny boppers at a rock concert.  On our way out there was a guy selling raffle tickets on a Cadillac for $25 each.  He asked me if I wanted to buy a ticket I told him, “no thanks, I already have one”.  So what if I lied to him.  Big deal.

Then it was time to get back on the bus.  Everyone was herded down a narrow aisle to the boarding point.  After enough people had passed to fill the bus, a cattle gate was placed across the aisle to stop people.  We got on the bus and had a nice ride back to the fairgrounds.

So much for my golf experience.      Dal

Found out that Langer won the tournament.  He got $250,000 out of a $1.6 million pot.  He was paid just about $1000 per stroke.  Wow.  Not a bad days work.

Vaccination shots

I live in a rather conservative part of northern Indiana. There was an article in our local paper that noted the decline in covid vaccinations in the past months. More worrisome than that was the fact that infant and youth vaccinations that are a custom before starting school and continuing thru graduation are also on the decline. I am referring to the series of 5 DPT shots, a polio shot, chicken pox, meningitis, and hepatitis shots. In all there are 14 shots or series of shots through 12th grade that are required. The reporter was at a loss to explain the trend.
I think the reason for the decline is rather simple. When the government sticks its nose into a person's PERSONAL health care, people become suspicious and/or reluctant to go along. Let the government get out of our health care and get back to doing what the constitution spells out.

Bock Beer

  This should be of interest to all beer drinkers out there.  I will explain the origin of Bock Beer.  But first some background:

  In the late 40s My dad had a  job as third shift boiler tender at the Centlivre brewery in Ft. Wayne, Indiana.  It was a really old fashioned brewery.  During one summer my brother and I went along to work with dad several times.  I know that was highly illegal, but what the hell??

The brewery was an interesting place with lots of different stuff to see.  The management even provided an on site tap room for the employees to toss back a few after work.  This made for a happy workforce.  My brother and I used to go to the taproom and draw off a bucket of beer and take it back down to dad in the basement.  Dad had a hot plate that was supposed to be used to heat coffee.  We would boil a pound of weenies in the beer and enjoy a 3 AM snack.

  On the way up to the taproom we had to pass some huge open vats of beer that was aging.  If you can imagine, they looked like huge mugs of beer complete with a foam head.  As I remember the vats were 12 to 15 feet in diameter and about 20 feet high.  They were made of beautiful cypress wood and held together by huge steel rings.  The construction made them look like huge whiskey barrels or a farmers silo.

Now to the bock beer.  Dad said that every spring they had to drain the vats to clean off the "scum" that had collected on the inside of the vats.  The first batch of beer that was aged in the vat was "colored and flavored" by the remains of the loose scum.  Thus bock beer.  Now you know

Birthday in July

 Birthday in July.

I was born on July forth, 1938.  It was at the very tail end of the great depression.  Roosevelt saw that things were looking up so he removed many of the programs that aided people to get back on their feet.  Unfortunately his action was premature.

  My father had just gotten a job in January just a few weeks before the bottom dropped out again.  My folks were so confident that they bought all new furniture to replace the "orange crates" .  They took out a 90 day loan to pay for the furniture.  Then dad lost his job as the downturn started.  And mom was pregnant with me.

The loan was due just before the end of June.  Since dad could not come up with the cash to pay off the loan the finance company repossessed the furniture on July first, just three days before I was born. With no furniture in the house dad had to borrow a bed from a neighbor so that I did not have to be born on the floor.  (no joke )

  My birth was uneventful and mom came through just fine.  Since the folks had no money they could not afford the $5 fee for a doctor to make a house call to perform my circumcision.

The rest is history

Domino ideas

Even though life has been a little slow I have been busy playing a lot of dominos and have come up with several ideas.  The dominos are cast from a ceramic type plastic.  It would be easy to imbed a material that could be activated by a pencil sized laser.  The laser would light up all the doubles.  That way you would have to inspect an average of 6 tiles instead of 45..  The deluxe model would advance the number by one and the correct domino would be highlighted with one flash. This is actually a good idea and would involve "off the shelf" parts and a very minimum in investment to imbed the material into the tile

The next idea would involve the mixing of the dominos after round is finished.  My idea would be to have the tiles pushed into a tilted chute.  They would land on a tilted circular platform that would be activated by a hand crank.  The platform would have a square hole on the periphery 1/8 " larger than the length of an individual tile. This would assure that only one tile would fall through at a time.  A light sensor would key in on the individual tiles and flip each so that the tile  would be oriented with the numbers down.  The tiles would then slide down another funnel shaped chute.  There would be two very thin wires located 6" inch apart along the length of the chute.  this would further distribute the "mix" and orientation of the tiles. (much like a pin ball machine)   The tiles would end on a very slow moving conveyor that would pass in front of each player.  A counter would keep track of each tile removed from the belt.  After 15 tiles had been removed by each player  the conveyor would stop and a thin playing surface would emerge from the opposite direction of the converse movement of the belt.  I have yet to figure out how to construct such a machine smaller than a 30 gallon drum.

It is ideas such as this last one that forced G.E. to get out of the motor business.. 

A dream

It is said that dreams only last a fraction of a second and that you cannot dream in color.  I cannot argue with the first part of that statement, but I defiantly dream in color.  Consider the following tableaux:  A knight in full shining chain mail armor is kneeling before the queen.  His head is bowed in submission.  At each side of the knight stands a ceremonial guard core.  They are dressed in “Swiss guard” style uniforms complete with colorful blue and yellow pantaloons.  Each guard is wearing a gold colored fireman style helmet. They all are standing at attention and each is armed with an 8-foot spear.

The queen is sitting on a majestic gold throne dressed in an off-white gown decorated with gold sequins and wearing the crown that signifies her as the head of state.  The court jester is sitting silently cross legged off to one side.

The queen slowly arises from her throne and takes two steps forward towards the knight to-be.  She extends her arm, turns her palm down and quietly states, “pull my finger”.

The new toilet

This story begins with Connie’s decision to have new vinyl plank flooring installed in one of the bathrooms.  Needless to say, I was a silent partner in the selection of the color and pattern.  As a matter of fact, one salesman asked me my opinion.  I replied, “I have no dog in this fight”.  He understood.

On the day of installation, the installer told me that he would have to remove the old toilet.  That was music to my ears because the old toilet had started to make threatening noises.  I could almost imagine that it was swearing at me.  A quick trip to Home Depot allowed the salesperson to talk Connie into buying an expensive model.  What the hell, its only money and I could still remember the threats emanating from the old stool.

  The new flooring and the new stool were installed without an incident.  The new commode stood grandly in the corner of the bath. The new stool, one of those low water use models sounds very aggressive in action.  At least it is not swearing at me.  I had my revenge on the old stool.  I laughed at it as it lay forlornly on its side at the curb waiting for the trash man to take it on its final journey.  Let it swear at the trash man.  He would probably kick it in the bowl.

  The new stool had one difference in construction as compared to the old stool that I noticed immediately.  The seat opening was about 1 ½” to 2” narrower than was the old seat.  Precision alignment was critical when placing one’s gluteus maximus in the correct position for action.  This was only a minor problem until late at night a trip to the bathroom was required. I was made painfully aware of an old law of physics. That holds true to this day.  “Force is equal to the mass of an object multiplied by its acceleration”. Due to the Incorrect alignment of my right cheek and the toilet seat I can attest to its validity. My right testicle was trapped in the middle of the two aforementioned objects.   This brings to mind another of Newtons laws.  “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction”.  Newton ignored the additional hopping, jumping, swearing, and the action of rendering one instantly awake in his law.

  Being trapped at home due to a complete shutdown brings out the worst in us.