Big words - butcher a cow

 Sometimes a few simple words can replace several paragraphs of mumbo-jumbo.  The following is an example of how letters to the editor can be shortened, simplified and unneeded words eliminated.

As A youth during my second decade I resided on an expansive plantation midway between Chicago and Cleveland.  There was an annual rite performed between the autumnal equinox and winter solstice that usually involved a gathering of family and friends.  This rite required the dislocation of a selected bovine herbivore from its compatriots.  It was removed to a remote location for further operations.

The first element of the process was to render the selected bovine unconscious.  This was accomplished with a rapid discharge of high voltage administered to the temporal lobe.  The animal was then exsanguinated and eviscerated.  Its outer body covering was removed and placed aside for later processing.

After a period of time when the enthalpy and entropy were in the proper balance, and the ambient temperature at a correct level, the herbivore was dismembered and stored in a proper environment for further processing.

Translation:  We butchered a cow in the fall.

Dal Wolf  Naples

world politics

World Politics

Circa 1982 a friend and I were having a conversation about world politics.  He was an economist, bean counter and I was an engineer.  We both worked for a multinational corporation that employed close to 10,000 people in three plants in our area.  Knowing nothing about economic policy, I felt fully qualified to discuss the subject of trade with him.

His stand was that since Nixon had visited China, relations with that country would thaw and we would start to have business with the Chinese.  His theory was that we would try to raise the economic status of the Chinese and thus avoid conflict and lower the cold war tension and the possibilities for war.  After all, a person with a full belly and change in his pocket would be less belligerent and try to make more economic gains.   My theory was that he was full of condensed nonsense clear up to his eyebrows.

Since that time all three plants have been shuttered and the 10,000 jobs have disappeared and have gone to India, Mexico, and yes, China.  You can decide for yourself which of us was correct.

Dal Wolf, Naples

Snake in Naples

Snake in Naples.

Not having much to do this past week, I decided to lay new tile in the small bathroom. (Yes, we have two baths).  The first thing to do was remove the stool.  This amounted to draining, unhooking the water, and emptying the tank.  I then unbolted the stool and placed it in the shower stall and removed the bathroom door.   So far so good.  The next step was to remove the old tile.  Murphy’s Law came into play.  Of course there was a small portion of the flooring that needed to be replaced.  Having the time, I decided to remove and replace the whole floor with ¾ inch treated plywood.  Nothing but the best is a good rule to follow.

After the flooring was removed I had had enough for one day so I decided to call it quits until the next day.  Enter the supervisor of things bath related.  The supervisor decided that varmints of all kinds could find their way into the bathroom floor that was no longer there.  The supervisor decided that I should cover the floor with a tarp and blockade the door opening with the door I had removed.  No big deal so I complied.  Nothing larger than a small raccoon could now wiggle through the remaining openings.  Not a good thing to argue with the supervisor.  After the extra chores were completed I retired to “happy hour” since I was already late for that festive time of the day.  I planned to take the next day off and let my sore and skinned knees heal before returning to my now expanded project.  Silly me, you know the old saying “the best laid plans of mice and men”.

The next morning, right after my first cup of coffee, I heard a shriek from the kitchen that could only mean one thing, either a mouse or snake had been sighted somewhere in the vicinity.  I immediately sprung into action to see the cause.  It happened to be a small (Florida protected) black snake on the patio.  I was dispatched to rid the critter from the area.  Now put yourself in the snake’s position.  What would you do if you were being charged by a bellowing water buffalo wielding a 2 X 4?  That is correct; you would remove yourself from the area as fast as your legs could carry you.  Unfortunately, snakes do not have legs and the patio was slick from the morning dew.  The snake took off like a ruptured duck in a briar patch or, if you prefer, a scalded dog.  His lack of traction looked similar to a hot rodder burning rubber with bent rear wheels.  The snake made it to the safety of the grass, but I threw the 2 X 4 anyway just to make a good impression on the supervisor as she was peeking at the scene from the safety of the sliding glass door.  I thought that I had handled the situation in a macho manner and could let the case rest.  Silly me, that was not the situation.

As I reentered the house, I found the supervisor staring at the bathroom floor.  Being married to her for over 50 years I knew what that meant.  No rest for Dal today.  I didn’t say a word but started the job of getting the floor recovered with plywood.  That took all day.  Now my knees were really skinned up. (It is Florida and everyone wears shorts)  After the job was completed the supervisor came to inspect the job.  Did she say, “Good job” or even, “looks nice” You gotta be kidding.  She made sure that not even a bug smaller than a hibiscus beetle could get into the bathroom.  She then asked, “When are you going to put down the tile?”

I get no respect.        Dall

German Goiter

There seems to be a real problem in Florida called the “German Goiter”.  This is not the type of goiter that affects the thyroid gland because of a lack of iodine.  Its impact is around the waist line and is caused by the consumption of alcohol, usually in the form of copious amounts of a substance known as “beer”.  The outward results of this affliction are very visible.  In mild cases it causes a bulge around the middle that looks much like a deflated volleyball.  It pokes out but does not cover the belt buckle.  In more serious cases it resembles a half inflated basketball and tends to hang over the belt buckle.  In very serious cases it gives the appearance of someone trying to smuggle a beach ball under his shirt.  In this case the belt buckle is again exposed with equal amounts of the “beach ball” above and below the belt.

There is a companion problem associated with the German Goiter.  This one affects an area just south of the goiter in an area commonly known as the “gluteus maximums”.   This problem gives the appearance of someone again smuggling recreation items.  In this case it looks much like two soccer balls that tend to wobble in opposition to each other.

The exact cause of the smuggled soccer balls is still unclear but it is thought to be associated with the three main food groups; i.e., Pizza, big Macs, and French fries.

I am in the process of further research and will forward my findings as soon as I can get further funding.  I am hoping that I can obtain money from the “cap and trade” programs as well as the “cash for clunkers operation.” I have also made inquiries to the “green energy lobby” about any stray cash that might just be laying around.

Till then.  Dal

Snow White

Now that I am back in Naples for the winter I can forget the many tasks “up north” such as mowing, raking, gardening, and pruning.  I can concentrate instead on such important matters that strike my fancy.  Today I am concerned with Fairy tales and political correctness as a subject that needs copious amounts of attention.  Allow me to elaborate.

Consider the fairy tale about Snow White and the seven Dwarfs.  One would never, today, be allowed to publish such a bigoted and racist story.  How do we know that Snow White was snow white?  There is no proof other than the author’s word and that lacks documentation.  Snow white might even have been a "Lady of the night".  Snow White should be addressed as Ms. White

And the “Seven Dwarfs”!!!  That title today would raise the ire of several groups.  Lawsuits would be filed and many “advocates “of gender (how do we know the group was all male?).  Height deprived people would be up in arms.  The group could be described as “A group of smaller gentlepersons”. Names are also considered labels that are possibly not appreciated by the person so labeled.  Therefore, I suggest the following name changes:

“Doc” should be called “Leader and chief medical person”

“Sneezy” should be referred to as “Allergy inflicted helper”

“Grumpy” should be relabeled as “Joy deprived individual”.

“Dopey”.  We won’t even go there!!!

“Happy” .The name has no negative connotation but he could be called “Positive attitude gentleperson” 

“Sleepy”.  This is a simple one.   He would be named “Insufficient rest group member”.

Danged if I can remember the seventh gentlepersons bigoted name. Oh wait, now I remember.  It is "Bashful".  We could label him simply as "Socially reluctant helper"

Now the job to get this fairy tale updated remains.

Dal Wolf.  Naples and Auburn, In

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.

Dal's first dance lesson

Dal’s First Dance Lesson

Posted

As I have stated in other essays I have written, I attended a one room country school in the late forties and early fifties.  After the war was over someone made the decision that we “farm kids” needed a little culture.  As a result, Mrs. Leaver was hired to teach music to us rednecks for one hour a week.  She and her husband ran a dry cleaning service in Auburn.  That has nothing to do with this story; I just thought I would throw it in for the heck of it.

One day during forth grade Mrs. Leaver announced that we kids were going to learn how to dance.  We had to dance while the other kids sang the following song:

Paw-Paw Patch

Where, oh where, is pretty little Ellie?
Where, oh where, is pretty little Ellie
Where, oh where, is pretty little Ellie
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

Chorus
Picking up paw-paws; put 'em in a basket.
Picking up paw-paws; put 'em in a basket.
Picking up paw-paws;put 'em in a basket.
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

The problem was that I had chosen that day to wear my knee boots to school. (Plus the fact I had no idea what dancing was)  There was a pretty girl named Bev that drew the short straw and was sentenced to be my dance partner.  Poor Bev.  I think that I trod upon her toes at least a dozen times.  When the whole thing was over, I am sure that she was as relieved as was I.

I think that Mrs. Lever saw the error of her ways.  We were never prodded into dancing again