Recommended reading at this time of despair

I feel horrible making light a day or two prior to Katrina hitting land Monday. I also pooh poohed the initial reports as hyperbole. When I got home last night from work and had the chance to see the damage on the news and to hear how the devastation is still mounting. To listen to the witnesses' account of their ordeal I was completly taken back. I was heart broken to listen to one man tell of his fight to hang on to his wife's hand prior to her being sucked away tore me too deeply to describe.

All bloggers should take the day and pray and find a tangible way to help our fellow human beings get through this disaster.

If you ,think finding out more about hurricanes will help you understand more I suggest reading Isaac's Storm. It is account of a hurricane in 1900 that hit Galveston Texas. I highly recommend it at this time.

Triangle Trees

This is the second in a series of short stories about living in a small town in the late 60s early 70s from the view of a fifth grader. I hope you like it as well. Any comments and criticism is welcomed, except from RDA he can only pop off when I write something about politics.

I remember clearly to this day the first time I ever saw her. It was late spring; summer was near the scent of lilacs filled the air, windows and doors were open to cool the classroom and the next time we would step into our little country school we all would be in the fifth grade. Mrs. Barth, the fourth grade teacher and the ruler of all that was ceramic demanded our attention to the front of the class. She had some exciting news to share. “Class I would like to introduce to you your new classmate, Kandi Gardner, Mrs. Barth motioned her hand toward the classroom door and slowly stepping into the room was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I don’t know if it was the beam of sun that shown through the open window, or if it was the onslaught of hormones not yet experienced, but her long hair was the most golden blonde I had ever seen, her eyes were a effervescent shade of blue and her smile wrinkled her nose as it exposed her pure white teeth. I swear I heard bongo drums in my head, my heart jumped into my throat as if I’d been trying daredevil-like stunts on the schoolyard seesaw. And I’m not positive but I think I felt a strange tingle below.

It was rare when a new student came to our school since our community lay at the end of the world. The number of reasons you would end up in our small logging community was limited. Your folks were either on the run, you were a descendant of the original settlers, or you were lost. At that moment I never thought of the reason this angel was before us but I thanked god she was.

Mrs. Barth brought Kandi to the front of the class and asked her to say a little about herself. I don’t remember what she said because I was hypnotized by her soft full lips that gracefully danced with her pure white teeth as she spoke. She instantly felt at ease in front of the rest of us. The ability to feel at ease so quickly would serve her well as we went through high school years later.

Mrs. Barth then asked all of, us to stand and introduce ourselves starting with the front row. Since I had a tendency to attract Mrs. Barth’s attention due to my inability to sit still and be quiet I was seated near the back of the room next to Mrs. Barth’s desk. Some might imply that my seat was the dunce seat; I’d argue that the seat was reserved for the second in charge.

As the introductions worked their way through the rows and got closer to me, I silently pondered how I was going to make an impression on this fourth grade goddess. I knew without doubt that I was not the most impressive of the male students. Not the best athlete, not the best looking, not from the wealthiest family and definitely not the smartest. I knew I had to come up with something; I had to make my mark. When the opportunity got to me I stood up, chest out and in my best “Roger Ramjet” impersonation I told Kandi, Mrs. Barth and the rest of my class that I had once killed a cougar with my pocket knife and withdrew my pocket knife from the front pocket of my jeans. The class began their usual roar of laughter that had become common after one of my comments. Mrs. Barth rolled her eyes and said something like, “Sure you did”. Then Mrs. Barth thanked the class and shot a glare my way along with a little shake of the head to show her disgust with me again. Kandi though, I swear I saw a gleam in her eye as she passed by me; accompanied with a smile that was meant just for me.

Luck was on my side that day. Mrs. Barth set Kandi in a vacant seat that was right in front of me. This allowed me to secretly stare at her the rest of that day. And stare I did. By the end of the day I had memorized everything about her hair, her left profile, her smile and her lack of fear for being in a new place. She was amazing, especially for a girl.

The next day was field day at our school. Field day was the day that every boy looked forward to each year. This day there would be field events like the softball throw, the fifty-yard dash, the standing long jump, and the sack race and 440 yard race. The top five places in each event would be awarded a specific colored ribbon. Blue for first, red for second, pink for third and so on. At the end of the day the girl and the boy who had the most blue ribbons would be further awarded the much-coveted annual field day trophy. Then at the conclusion of the field day there was a huge potluck picnic.

My goal was to win that trophy for that year. If I could do that I was confident that Kandi would have a difficult time of not wanting to go out with me. Though I had never in my life, up to this point, ever had a girlfriend. I was sure this was what the girls were looking for in a boy, a trophy winner. Needless to say I only received one ribbon that day and it was a third place “pink” ribbon for the sack race. But luck was on my side Kandi didn’t attend the field day, either her family didn’t know about it or she had forgotten. I tossed the “pink” ribbon away on my way home that day. I had to rid myself of the evidence.

That whole summer I saw Kandi only once and that was from a car as my family drove past her family along the river west of town. We were on our way to swim at the “hang up” hole, the most popular place to swim in our community and a home away from home during the summer months for many of us. Kandi’s family was leaving another swimming hole that was far less popular and usually used by “flatlanders”. I had no problem over looking the fact that her family swam at a spot that was most likely to solicit a smirk when mentioned to a local, since she was wearing a swimsuit that more than revealed her beautiful smile. I believe the love of my life was blossoming. As crazy as it may seem I started praying for the beginning of the fifth grade right at that moment.

The end of summer finally arrived, thank god. The first day of school Mr. Shenk, known as Hitler, set us in assigned seats. And much to my chagrin I was seated as far away from the class beauty as Mr. Shenk could have possibly set me. Was this guy conspiring with the ceramic ruler, was he dead set against me ever getting the opportunity of letting Kandi know I was alive?

Then one day something happened Kandi came to school with a new sweater, a new tight powder blue sweater that in a funny way increased the level of competition for Kandi’s attention. From that day every boy in the class began walking and talking like Roger Ramjet in her presence.

I knew I had to be bold now. I had to focus on what was important and bravely approach the matter at hand. I had to tell Kandi that I think I was in love with her. That’s right I thought it, as David Cassidy crooned it. “I Think I Love You.”

Within days of the sweater and months since I had first seen her, I approached Kandi. Well actually I had Phil my best friend, give her a note. The note told her that I wasn’t completely truthful about the cougar, that my dad had shot it and that I wanted her to be my girlfriend. If being a girlfriend was too much for her than I’d like to be her best friend that was a boy. Much to my surprise she gladly accepted my offer of love. Now I could at least look her straight in the eye when she spoke and wave at her now and then. Hopefully I would get a chance to hold her hand and if the stars lined up just right, I might get to kiss her. This newfound status also allowed me to act even cooler. For crying out loud I now had a girlfriend.

After weeks of courting from afar and notes being passed back and forth the two of us found ourselves alone at Triangle Trees. Triangle Trees was a formation of trees behind the high school football field. Triangle Trees was a place known by the local boys as a place to play guns, to play hide and seek and a place to take a girl. I had planned the opportunity for the two of us to be playing in that area that day. I had rehearsed my lines I knew what had to be done. I knew I needed to kiss those lips. The lips that I had thought about, I had dreamt about, the lips that consumed most of my summer between the fourth and fifth grade.

Here we were standing alone in the infamous clump of Douglas firs, the both of us looking at the ground conveying small talk, back and forth, both denying the inevitable. I stepped closer to her; she looked up into my eyes silently, trying to tell me she could have the same feelings as I was having.

“Do you think it would be okay if I, um, kissed you?” I asked her.

“I don’t see why not,” was her response.

I moved in closer put my hands on each of her shoulders and asked, “Are we suppose to close our eyes or something?”

She told me that she thought that was how was done.

We both closed our eyes and brought our lips together. She was soft her breath was warm; our lips met every bit of each other’s, my arms went around her, she relaxed into me. The kiss seemed to go on for minutes. The both of us were feeling light headed. When we parted I knew I had to do the right thing. I knew I couldn’t very well lead a girl along and not be the gentleman. I looked her in the eyes and calmly asked her if she thought we had to get married now? She smiled and said she didn’t think so. We emerged from Triangle Trees holding hands. We were two young lovers who had taken the plunge. We had expressed our love for each other with the ultimate covenant. We had kissed, a kiss that was both our firsts.

That evening I lay in bed thinking of what a man I was becoming. I thought about what laid ahead for the two of us. I thought of marriage, kids, a job, a home and a life of kissing her.

The next day at school I was scared to death to see her. I avoided every chance to cross her path. I knew someone was going to find out. It would be revealed that I had kissed a girl. My life was over, as I had known it.

Then Kandi’s best friend Cassandra approached me at recess. I could tell by how she looking at me she knew. This was going to be trouble. Cassandra skipped up to me, smiled and handed me a note. I tore open the note. It was from Kandi. I thought, oh, no I think she told her parents. I read the note with fear climbing all over within me. How am I going to explain this to my mom and dad? Crap all mighty, I’m dead.

I read the note, “Pirate you are a nice boy. We can be friends. I don’t like you anymore I like Russell now.” Good I thought I knew he hadn’t killed a cougar either.

Crazed monkeys attack

Apparently crazed monkeys have taken over the capital in New Delhi, India. Hell give back their own TV series and they will let everyone go.

Fifth Grade, Hitler, Ceramics and Christmas

I just got word my best friend as growing up, Phil Lent died of a heart attack last night in his home in Juneau, Alaska. I was hit pretty hard because I am currently writing a story about one of our adventures. I had not seen Phil in a lot of years but he was rarely far from my heart and always n my memories of growing up in Valsetz. I thought I would repost this story to give you an idea what kind of miscief we often found ourelves in. Here's to you Phil. I love you man.

One day in the fifth grade my best friend, Phil and I were teasing this girl from our class about her coat. We were 10 years old and ruthless. I actually don’t recall teasing her about her coat but that is what we ended up getting into trouble for

As soon as we were back in our class sitting at our desks, Mr. Shenk our fifth grade teacher comes storming into the room and headed directly back to his desk. From his desk he yanks out his paddle (I was in grade school in the 1960s so beating the shit out of kids like me was the norm) and turns to both Phil and I and says, “You two up in the ceramic room now! Before I go any further I need to tell you a little about Mr. Shenk.

Mr. Shenk looked and talked just like Adolph Hitler. I know you’re saying yeh, sure he did. I mean it he did. This guy had jet black hair greased down and parted right smack in the middle. And he sported a little tickler mustache. He was proud of his German ancestry and loved telling us about it. This is the man that one day stood in front of the class and without batting and eye or fighting off a smile told the whole fifth grade class that there will never be a black quarterback in the NFL because blacks were too stupid to lead teams to championships. Keeping in mind this is 1969. Kids our age didn’t have a lot of world knowledge; hell half of us didn’t even have televisions least not cable. If it wasn’t in a Mad magazine or a comic book or a Hardy Boy’s mystery it most likely didn’t exist.

To my memory Mr. Shenk was the first person to introduce us to the outside world. What he had done was he started bringing in what I thought was home movies and slides. They were our introduction to the Holocaust. Here are all these nine and ten year olds watching skeletal people being marched into death camps and eventually into the gas chambers. I mean this shit scared the hell out of us. And when he’d talk about the movies and slides the guy would get so excited he would march back and forth waving his arms. Almost like a fit or something.

Any way on this day, Mr. Shenk or Hitler as most of us little smart ass fifth grade boys referred to him as, was marching right behind Phil and I. Down the hall and up into the ceramic room we marched with Hitler waving his paddle in the air behind us. The ceramic room was one of the pride and joys of our little country school.

Mrs. Barth who was at the time older than mud and was the fourth grade teacher was also the keeper of the ceramic room and all that was ceramic. There weren’t a lot of modern technologies or conveniences in the little town I grew up in, therefore, ceramics pretty much ruled for Christmas gifts, Mother’s day gifts and any other reason for gift giving. There wasn’t a house in the town that didn’t have a knick-knack shelf full of ceramic animals, or wise men from Mrs. Barth’s ceramic collection. The ceramic room also doubled as a torture room.

Hitler got us up into the room and parked our little butts against the window and started in on another one of his diatribe speeches about, loving one another, being nice to others, treating others as you wanted to be treated all the stuff that was foreign to a fifth grade boy. I mean heck she was a girl. Why would we want to be nice to her? You know cooties and all that crap. He continued his wrath, yelling and spitting and waving the paddle around. All of a sudden I began to laugh. Uncontrollably I laughed and laughed and laughed. And Phil started crying, Frank shut up he’s going to kill us. Ceasing on my laugh or Phil’s fear Hitler moved in on us. Face red, eyes glued on us, saliva streaming from the side of his mouth he slammed the paddle on the worktable next to us. “Turn around and grab your ankles, Booooyees!” he sneeringly commanded us. Phil crying and me laughing and Hitler about to burst we both slowly started to turn around. But before we could turn completely around a pretty little ceramic canary fell from the shelf above the table and smashed on to the floor into little pieces.

We all stopped and stared at the smashed canary. Then another canary fell and then another and then all of a sudden the shelf gave out and it fell. As the top shelf fell it started taking other shelves with it. Hitler began trying to catch as many of the falling ceramic pieces he could, catching one to every three or four that fell to their death. Before you we knew it the floor was littered with dead wise men, dead canaries, dead frogs and dead ceramic Christmas gifts. Hitler looked up at the two of us and said, “Get your butts back to class”.

Later that day we were walking home with the girl we had teased earlier in the day and saw Mr. Shenk pleading for his life with Mrs. Barth. Needless to say Christmas was little commercial like that year.

Mr. Shenk left us several years ago and I hope he and Phil are waiting in some ceramic room somewhere in heaven to see if we can fix any of those canaries.

Phillip Douglas Lent, March 31, 1960 to January 3, 2006

Cheryl has called upon me

A blogger friend of mine, Cheryl has tagged me with the following.

1. The number of books I own. Shelves and shelves and boxes and boxes. I read therefore I am. I read fiction, bios, history, technicals books and despite what Rev. Dr. Abi may thnk I read from both views of an issue. I read contempory junk and classicsal literature. I read what ever I can get my eyes on. I am a lot like the robot in Close Circuit, I need input.

2. Last Book Purchased? Recently Blaze my eldest daughter bought me a gift card at Borders so it has come in handy. The last book purchased was "Praying for Sheetrock", non-fiction by Melissa Fay Greene. It is a story of a smalltown in the south that has its first collision with civil rights.

3. Last Book Completed? A Stranger in the Kingdom, fiction by Howard Frank Mosher. The story takes place in Northern Vermont during the 1950s. Its filled with baseball, small town characters, juvenile adventure, and bigotry.

4. Five books that have meant a lot to me? (1) Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck. I can not look at Americans or large poodle dogs the same since I read it. It is set in the early 1960s when the original "hippie" Steinbeck decided to go out and re-live America and its experiences. He has a custom pickup and camper manufactured to suit him and his large poodle dog, Charley and his whiskey. They then set out to travel the borders of America. (2) Sea Wolf, by Jack London. This book is full of adventure, doubt, hate, deception and love. The story begins in San Francisco before there was a Golden Gate Bridge and the trip across the bay was done on ferries. There is a collision in the fog with one of the ferries and an ocean goig steamer. The protaginist, Hump, is found floating in the ocean by a seal hunting ship. They retrieve and revive him but he has to stay on board until their seal hunt is over. The seal hunt takes him to the northern Pacific along Japan and toward the Behring Strait. A soft handed writer then has to evolve and learn to be a sailor, hunter and survivor. Humps antaognist is Captain Wolf Larson the meanest SOB I have ever met on paper. (3) The Zen Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert Pursig. This story tells of a trip across Northern United States on motorcycles with the author who is a professor of philosophy, his young son, one of his students and the students girlfriend. The story pursues the truth of life from one point during the professors obvious midlife crisis, its is the confrontation of his ghosts from the past. It is an excellent examination of life and sanity and insanity are so closely paralleled. (4) The Legend of Bagger Vance, by Steven Pressfield. It is the parallel of golf and life and how as things change they stay so much the same throughout history. (5) Northern Borders, by Howard Frank Mosher. I have recently discovered Mosher and have developed a real kinship with his words. This story is about a young boy, Austen Kitridge who is sent to live with his paternal grandparents in northern Vermont during the 1940s and 1950s. Austen lives with his grandparents from the first grade until he graduates from high school. The story is full of great characters, adventure and real life relationships between people within a family and throughout a real life.

Five books that made an impression on me is really difficult since I read and write daily. Over the years many stories I have met, if you will have made impressions on me that I can not actually point at or overtly draw from. I suppose everything I have read has made me different I am just not in tune to the change.

I honestly could put together another list if asked three of four weeks from now. I have read most of everything that Hemingway, Steinbeck, Twain, London, Kesey, Grisham, King, and Patterson have written.

The Britiah kids have all the fun

It was recently announced in a secondary school in Northhampshire England that students will be allowed to use the f-word up to five times per day before any punishment will be doled out. The educators believe this will relieve some problems between the students and the faculty. A running tally for each student will be maintained daily to make sure students do not exceed their limit.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=360685&in_page_id=1770

Now anyone who has read my blog knows I am not shy of the words use, I mean I am a fucking Pirate and all but this has to be one of the dumbest things I have read for sometime. What these educators son't get is that the students don't care if they are allowed to use the fucking word or not. Kids in high school just love fucking with authority and will only exceed the number to keep the fucking pressure on. These teachers must be a bunch of dumb fucks.

Dateline Crawford Texas

What if Bush had done what his current critics have suggested after 9/11? What if he had left Saddam alone? The following is one Pirate's fictional accounts of what he thinks would have happened.

Today in Crawford, Texas Cindy Sheehan and her fellow sisters and brothers of terrorist victims continue their protest outside President Bush's ranch. This is day 28 of the protest that has brought an estimated 2 million disheartened people from around the world to demand that President Bush speak with Cindy Sheehan. They also demand that the President explain to them why he thinks his administration's policy of diplomacy and blockades will bring Osama Bin Laden, Al Queda, the Taliban of Afghanistan and the brutal tyrant Saddam Hussein to justice.

Nearly four years has past since that beautiful summer day, September 11, 2001, when 19 terrorists loyal to Osama Bin Laden highjacked and crashed two planes into the World Trade Center in New York City, another plane into the Pentagon in Washington DC and yet another plane in the rural parts of southern Pennsylvania, killing over 3,000 innocent citizens from around the world and primarily from the United States.

From the moment President Bush was notified of the terrorist attacks he abruptly stormed from a classroom he was visiting at the time, beelined it to a microphone and loudly protested the actions of the terrorists and promised to bring those responsible to justice. He then immediately summond powerbrokers from France, Germany, Canada and Great Britain to put together an international task force to develop a means of bringing those responsible to justice in a World Court arena that would be facilitated by the United Nations.

Mr. Bush, his fellow coalition leaders and the United Nations all have repeatedly assured the world that attrition and negoitiation is the only way to break the terrorist's will to commit such terrible acts against those they despise. They claim that going after those responsible with military force, would only enrage them and give us more terrorists to deal with in the future. Many citizens around the world have drawn weary and impatient due to the continued terrorists acts that the civilized world has endurred since that infamous day in September.

Cindy Sheehan's son, Casey was on leave from the Army when he and a group of his friends and four hundred other vactioners were killed in a terrorist's bomb blast at Disney World in Florida in January 2002, which came on the heels of a terrorist act in the sky aboard a plane that left from London Heathrow Airport on Christmas eve 2001 headed for New York City. Osama Bin Laden has proudly claimed the responsiblilty for the destruction of the plane and the bomb attack in Florida as well as the Saren gas and anthrax attacks in the New York and San Francisco/Oakland (BART) transit systems. His group has also reportedly been behind the multiple bomb blasts in Berlin, Paris and Toronto as well as in Seattle, Los Angeles, Detroit, Bali, Madrid, London and Omaha Nebraska.

Osama has claimed that the goal of his orginazation is not to negotiate anything but the complete demise of all infidels. He claims he has the support of the all Islamic nations and secular nations of the Middle East. The leaders of Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, Jordan and Qatar have all been assissinated and replaced by regimes commited to Islamic world dominance.

Osama has been photographed with what was believed to be one of his old enemies Saddam Hussein on several occasions. Saddam Hussein has vowed to support Osama's goals with weapons and tactical logisitcs. He has also provided Al Queda with training camps and weapons of mass destruction in the most recent past. saddam has reportedly made a deal with Osama that will allow him to return the land of Abraham back to him and remove all Jews from the sacred land of his people.

Michael Moore, a critic of the President and a financial supporter of Cindy Sheehan told a reporter in Crawford that his recent documentary depicts the current President as a wimp just like his father. "What upsets me the most is the first Bush had Saddam in his sights after the Gulf War but he did nothing but allow the Shiites to be massacred with his arsenal of weapons of mass destruction. Its obvious Bush had a business relationship with Saddam over oil." Moore has directed two commercially succesful documentaries, "Me and Roger" and "Bowling for Columbine". He is active in liberal politics and has been known to support Presidential Campaigns like Ralph Nader and most recently John Kerry. "John Kerry and all of us informed citizens have demanded that President Bush remove Saddam because of his weapons of mass destruction and the connections he has with Osama Bin Laden and the terrorist group Al Queda, but Bush just wants to talk, talk, talk them to death. He is nothing but a wimp like his daddy." Moore then unveiled some scenes from his soon to be released documentary, "While Bush Slept the World Burned". "Bush the wimp is seen on film being notified of the attacks in New York by Andy Card, it doesn't take him seven seconds before he is front of a television camera waving his arms and at the top of his lungs demanding the heads of those responsible. Now all we get is this mamby pamby approach of talk, talk, talk meanwhile beautiful young Americans like Casey Sheehan are murdered and Bush just talks." During the interview Moore then became noticably upset by holding his stomach and walked into a nearby MacDonalds.

The President's critics don't just come from the other side of the aisle or from the liberal factions, a fellow Republican Senator Chuck Hagel echoed to this reporter what John Kerry had stated throughout his campaign for Bush's job , "If I had been in charge at the time of September 11, 2001 I would have had troops in Afghanistan and Iraq by Christmas of 2001. Saddam and the Taliban would have been bothing but dust. The troops would stay until the whole Middle East was stable and democracy had taken a secure foothold in the region."

It is not known what Bush intends to do. Will he meet with Cindy Sheehan and the growing crowd? Will he continue to let Saddam and Osama thumb their noses at the civilized world? Or will he change his mind and remove Saddam from his stronghold and will he pull back the peace branch from Osama Bin Laden and send our troops into Afghanistan? Or will he continue to appear like what many say is a, wimp?

This just in

Brigitte Bardot pleads with the French government to quit using puppies as shark bait. How does this work? Do they dangle a puppy over the edge of the boat on a string and call here sharky, sharky. I mean here le sharky, le sharky. WTF.....

In the News

How many of you remember the little tidbit of information we use to get on Saturday mornings? When I was a kid long before cable and the 555 channels available today, Saturday mornings was the highlight of a kids week. You would get up every Saturday morning fix yourself a bowl of corn flakes still your Dad's favorite chair and turn on Tom and Jerry, Roadrunner and Wiley, or if you were lucky Hotwheels or Josie and the Pussycats. You had the TV all to yourself and possibly a sibling or two. Your folks were most likely sleeping off their long week of work and Friday night of play.

It seemed evry hour or every half hour a little update on what was happening around the world would come on instead of a commercial. It was called, "In the News". The narrator had the coolest voice I think next to Darth Vader. The news never was political or Earth shattering it always pertained to things in science, sports, or current events.

When I come home from work now Jock, Slick or lil sis can be found in the middle of the day in the middle of the week watching cartoons. And the news always pertains to distruction, dispair and politics.

My new "In the News" guy is Opie Outlaw. I haven't heard his voice but his news is a lot like that when I was a kid. Its interesting and worth the look at his blog. Besides he has a kitten cannon.

My blog has renamed me

I didn't figure it out until after I had responded to a few posts and realized that the blog thinks the Pirate has gone drag and is sneaking around calling himself lil sis. I can't figure out how to change it back. Does anyone have a suggestion?

Rev. Dr. Abagambi

I know you all don't know the Rev as I do an all the mind altering we have done together but it hit me last night how much he looks likw Marty on Rockstar INX. I and all the girls on campus use to think he looks like John Denver but that was 20 plus years ago. Don't believe me ask Blaze.

Redneck Joke

How do you circumcise a redneck? Hit his sister on the top of the head.

The Tyrant is trying to cover his ass

Today my little piece of shit of a boss tried a fast one. Unfortunately his side is full of lies and deception. He stuck his head in my office this morning and was all polite and said he'd like to talk to me about something at 1.

Then when I got back from lunch summond me by speaker phone he'd like to see me in his office. The two years I have made this twit money he has never used the speaker phone. So I knew he was up to something. So I trapsed on down to his little beat-off room and to my surprise sat the little fuck and his ugly ass wife. Along for the ride was the personnel/bookkeeper/his ex-girlfriend or who and Can-O-Corn refer to the ex-lush. "Come in and have seat was his demand.

I have to admit I was a little apprehensive but I didn't play my cards yet. See the Texas Hold 'em tournements are starting to payoff.

The small prick Mussolini, sitting straight back and proper so he good see over his calendar started off by saying, "We have a little problem in our office that needs to be addressed. You nkow Pirate I have expectations from my employees (keep in mind its only me and Can-O-Corn and the tit support system, his executive assistant that work there now). I expect that all employees will not be insubordinate, maintain a professional standard, and will not conspire againstg me with other employees." He was so proud of himself looking over to his big mama of a wife with the look of see mommy I can stick to the script.

I calmly looked at him and said, "I don't know where the problem is regarding those three things because we are in total agreement. I thought you called me down here to apologize for assaulting me and for asking me to falsifiy court documents."

Man this shit turned beat red. He didn't know how to respond. He started to say something which I cut him off with I didn't interupt you.

I then told him I had called the police and filed an assault complaint against him. He started to say something again and I halted him. I told him this was proceeded by him trying to get me to lie for him before the courts. Man his little brain started steaming.

"What do you mean assault you?" he stuttered.

I told him when he came across the table during the infamous meeting and he swung his fist at my face three or four time.

"I wasn't trying to hit you. I was just shaking my fist in your face."

I told him if I hadn't blocked him and moved back his shake would landed pretty hard on my nose. I saw it as a swing and so did Can-O-Corn who came between us.

"That's a difference of opinion." he claimed.

"I know that's why they have judges and juries so differences of opinions can be settled" I informed him. I also went on how he tried to get me lie for him and that's why he lost his cool. The puke then said he had asked me to lie but I had said no so he said, "OK". I then asked his two support broads if they got that in their notes?

He then said we don't want to get into saying people will be sued because he could counter sue. I asked him what he possibly could sue me for. Like a little kid he said, "Stuff."

What kind of stuff?

"Just stuff."

You have nothing to sue me for or you would have played that card. I then asked him if we were done and where is this going?

He said he will keep me but I have to be nice. I told him he has until Friday to let me know how he plans to solve this amicably before i start the next phase of getting his license revoked, ruining his reputation and suing him for creating a hostile environment.

I went out to my car with everything I owned smoked five smokes and headed for home. I have no idea where this will end up. Stay tuned for the call in survey results.

I have a new toy

I have discovered a new fun way to mess with people and it is actually pretty harmless. When some one from India calls me because I stiffed Mervyns this month or I went on vacation and didn't pay any of my bills (just in case) or they want to sell me timeshare I use a made up foreign language to mess with them.

Caller: My I speak wit Mr. Flankrin Pilate prease?

Pirate: Oh, ya bit do ya. Aye

Caller: I'm to tolly, may I peak wit Mr. Pilate prease?

Pirate: Jo,Jo, winga do yah?

Caller: Id Mrs. Pilate dere prease?

Pirate: Ooooh, haaa yaaa woo. Yaya ma! Tic tac toe.

This can go on and on. Now the object is see how long they stay on the line. Use a timer. I officially have the record at 7 minutes 23 seconds. My youngest son, Slick has joined in on the fun. I think he may be taking too far though. I called the other day and he did it to me.

Top Ten Best Movies per this Pirate

1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. Dr. Strangelove (or how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb)
3. The Right Stuff
4. Shane
5. Forest Gump
6. We were Soldiers
7. Cowboys
8. Network
9. Radio Days
10. All the President's Men

What might be yours?

My Boss the tyrannical lefty

I had eluded to it the other day and I have had a couple ask me when I was going to spill the beans about my asshole lefty boss who threw a few punches at me. Last week prior to leaving for the Olymipic Penninsula to appraise three sawmills my boss had asked to have a meeting with me and my co-worker, "The Can-O-Corn".

The day before my boss had sat through a grueling deposition with an attorney firm from Seattle regarding a condemnation/eminent domaine case we are employed as expert witnesses in. Apparently during the deposition he had made many statements that our firm had done various things that we had not done. He then wanted Can-O-Corn and myself to dummie up some workpapers that supported his claims and not date them so he could send them to the attornies who deposed him. But he wanted them in our hand writing.

We responded with a definate, "NO".

This enraged the little piece of shit. He began becoming very beligerant and started to belittle us and our work. He said he couldn't take Can-O-Corn and myself being joined at the hip and conspiring against him. He then went on some tirade about how he was this and that and the all around greatest blah, blah, blah. I turned away and looked at the clock to try and guage when we would arrive in the Olympia area when all of a sudden a couple of fists swung under my nose. I leaned back while the little butt-lick was swinging his fists at me from across the table. Fortunately he is too short to reach me. Can-O-Corn jumped and got between the two of us and demanded that the little Clinton cigar chomper sit his ass down and knock it off. I followed with if you ever swing at me again I'll slam your ass into the ground. He then apologized repeatedly.

This was the second time in two months this asshole had swung at me.

After the fumes died down Can-O-Corn and I grabbed our stuff and headed for Olympia. When we arrived back in the office on Monday his executive assistant told us he was telling everyone we had mutinied against him and lost our cool. He said he feared for his life. Fortunately I had called the police and filed a complaint against the shithead. Now all week he stomps around the office giving us the cold shoulder like a spoiled little 12 year boy who didn't get his way and knows his temper tantrum was out of line.

My plans are to leave his employment at the first of the year but I will not let this dolt make me quit. Even though he is planning on closing the doors betwen now and the end of the year, I want him to have the balls to fire me but I think he knows he has went too far this time.

So that's the office drama for now. I must tell you there is nothing I detest more than a workplace that spends its time on crap like this. I have never cared about all the office gossip, arguments, or personal conflicts. I especially can't take it when it includes the Pirate. I have too many other things to do to have shit like this consume my thoughts and take away my sleep.

Peace

Cindy Sheehan confuses me

My first reaction to Cindy Sheehan was empathy. Who in their right mind can deny that his woman, as any sane person would be, is in pain? It is written all over her face and you can certainly hear it in her voice. Cindy Sheehan hurts greatly and her heart is broken. She has given the second highest sacrifice that could possibly be given. She has given her son, who by all accounts was the epitome of what makes this the greatest country on Earth. Casey Sheehan was a healthy, loving, smiling, gracious young man that most of us would have been proud to know. He knew without question, there was a possibly that he could give the ultimate sacrifice, his life, when he joined the military.
Cindy Sheehan may have given more than anyone in a sane world should ever give. Unfortunately through her pain she is unable to see we do not live in a utopian world. Through this blinding pain of which she endures, she is now knowingly, being played as a puppet by the marionettes of the left that desire this country move further from the goal of a shining city on the hill to a fractioned shell of a country in the ash heap of history. Cindy has allowed those who yearn the demise of this country to play her like a pied-pipers flute.
The irony of what Mrs. Sheehan is doing is what confuses me the most. She is protesting her son’s gift to the world, a gift that will eventually allow more free people and especially more mothers to voice their concerns about their countries. If this great country didn’t have the brave men and women like Casey Sheehan who are willing to fight for the unalienable rights of others this world would be far worse off. Casey Sheehan was not drug kicking and screaming to Iraq like many of the Iraqis have been over the last twenty plus years. He volunteered not once but twice in order for those less fortunate then he could experience the freedoms we all have in our country. He did not blindly go into war mislead and misinformed he proudly took up arms to protect and serve this great nation and those who were oppressed in lesser nations.
Casey Sheehan unquestionably loved his mother but above all he obviously loved the right for all people in this world to be free. It is Casey’s sacrifice and love for freedom for all people that should rightfully garner the attention of the media and the opposing sides in the debate, not Cindy Sheehan’s grief. There is no question in my mind that there is a concerted effort in this world that wakes every day, eats every meal and takes every breath in prayer to God for our demise. We can give them names as evil as we can manufacture but we must not fool ourselves that they have moved on, or weakened in their desire. We cannot let the apathy of many or the built-up scar tissue of 911 move our eyes off the Islamic terrorists of the Middle East and their supporters. We cannot allow hyperbole and deception by those who offer up Cindy Sheehan’s dignity weaken our resolve.

Little Sister and Dad have the house alone

Mrs. Pirate and the two boys are out this weekend visiting family and working so they left the Little Sister and me to fend for ourselves. It has been really laid back and she puts less pressures on me as a Dad then her brothers. I thank the big guy every day for the four kids and especially the two daughters. Little Sister wants me to drag her down town Portland today so she can check out the locals. So I will not have a lot to write on today. In fact she is standing at my office door egging me to go. I keep telling her my shorts are still in the dryer drying but she isn't buying it.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about my boss assaulting me in the office last week. The little bastard is lucky I didn't pound his head. He wanted me to falsify documents for a court case we are preparing for and I refused so he got violent. Story at 11.

I also plan to chime in on Cindy Sheehan. The NFL preseason and why Cheryl Crow is in a twit right now.

Peace and God Bless

And damn I like autumn

Little Sister and Dad have the house alone

Mrs. Pirate and the two boys are out this weekend visiting family and working so they left the Little Sister and me to fend for ourselves. It has been really laid back and she puts less pressures on me as a Dad then her brothers. I thank the big guy every day for the four kids and especially the two daughters. Little Sister wants me to drag her down town Portland today so she can check out the locals. So I will not have a lot to write on today. In fact she is standing at my office door egging me to go. I keep telling her my shorts are still in the dryer drying but she isn't buying it.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about my boss assaulting me in the office last week. The little bastard is lucky I didn't pound his head. He wanted me to falsify documents for a court case we are prepring for and I refused so he got violent. Story at 11.

I also plan to chime in on Cindy Sheehan. The NFL preseason and why Cheryl Crow is in a twitg right now.

Peace and God Bless

And damn I like autumn

Bitching about the important stuff

It's about time, it is, yes siree bub, its about time. When all around us seems to be a little disjointed and heading in a not so good direction, when the President refuses to take time out of his working vacation to console or take a tongue lashing from grieving Cindy "Its all about me" Sheehan and her vegan buddies, when meth threatens to destroy a generation of young rural Americans, when schools throughout our nation are feeling the money crunch we have the NCAA to thank for making us focus on what truely is wrong with this nation.

According to the NCAA we have been allowing too many schools to use names for their teams and mascots that offend Native Americans. Names like Chief, Brave, Warrior, Seminole and Indian may conjure thoughts of rugged individualism or remind people of this nations heritage. But too often attention seeking descendants of the indigenous people have their feelings hurt. They do not want to be reminded that their grandparents were once strong brave people they prefer their current image of whinny spinless people that run casinos. Its plain to me I wouldn't want my ancestors looking like they were triumphing over others. I would easily be appalled to see a profile of a dead relative of mine looking bold and strong, donning the wardrobe of their time. So thank you NCAA, where would college sports be without you?

Don't misread my sarcasism. I do not have a prejudice bone in my body when it comes to Native Americans. My grandfather was 100% Siletz Indian who actually grew up on a reservation claimed that the Washington Redskins and the Cleveland Indians were his favorite teams because of their names. He enjoyed every beating the Redskins doled out to the Dallas Cowboys. The school he attended and played sports for and proudly reminded us about, use to bpound their opponents under the moniker The Chiefs. He told us how much joy he had beating the living crap out of the rich white boys in basketball, football and baseball. I think he may be rolling over in his grave with the latest movement of the present day wannabe indians and their mamby pamby liberal rebel rouser buddies in the press.

My only question is since the NCAA is now joined the quest for a Liberally Correct Society why stop at the Indian names and references? What makes the NCAA think for one minute that those of us that are descended from the Northern Europeons aren't sensitive to stereotypes? I mean do you honestly think the descendant of the Scot and Irish want to be reminded that their grandfathers wore skirts. Why do we always imply that the Irish just want to get drunked up and fight while dressed in green? You know it and I know it, hell all of American people know names like the Saxons, Vikings and Norsemen hurt deeply. Especially when the name is coupled with an image of a drunk, pissed off white guy in a skirt that wants to rape pillage and plunder. Yeah you're right, the use of Pirate as a mascot upsets my family every time we hear it thrown around as if we don't have feelings too. Its high time we all step up and demand the end of all stereotyping. Lets rid the nation of names like, Celtics, Pioneers, Crusaders and others that may imply that a bunch of white guys use to exist.

Lets move away from names that make others feel less improtant. Lets not use animal names either. Here in Oregon we have the Beavers and the Ducks and you know they have to offend someone. The name Beavers definately has some sexual content to it and I have always wondered why the Beavers have never played the Gamecocks. Then we get to the names that offend the Christians. Names like Blue Devils, Blue Deamons and the Wizards are surely going to piss off the church goers.

My suggestion is to only use colors and numbers for names. Exclude the obvious problems like the number 1 and 69 and exclude the colors white, black, yellow and red or colors that have animal names like salmon.

If we would just do this we could move on to more important things like removing the wooden crosses along the highways. You just know there is a group out there just waiting for the din to quiet so they can start demanding the removal of those crosses.

Peace and God Bless

Go Rams.......

Rockstar INXS

I do not go for much of the reality TV stuff. It tends to be overly dramatic and too self-serving for this bogart. But i have fallen for the Rockstar INXS. I am going to tell you I think Marty has it with Deanna right behind him. I think JD is a smug punk with serivce talent. Ty will end up in Broadway. Jordis is hot as is Deanna. Brandon tries too hard. Has anyone seen this show?

I appreciate all of everyone's input on the move. I will consider what was said before I fully decide. Thanks.

To break out on your own or not?

One of the reasons I was focusing on the homefront during my hiatus was I have been trying to decide what to do with my career (If you can say what you do for a livinig at 45 years old is a career). I have always wanted more sovern time for myself and my family. I have always wanted to call my own shots. I have always been successful for whomever I have worked but the lion share of the money has always ended up in their pocket and not mine.

I have been a good hunting dog and brought back the bird for my master to eat. So he can sit around the lodge and brag about his day in the field. When in reality the lazy bastard did nothing but sit in his blind with a warm cup of joe, while I went out and riled the prey. He then stood up shot the dumb birds and then sent me to retrieve the trophy he would later mount on his wall.

I have always been gratful for those who have given me the opportunity to work and I have always been paid well as a wageslave. But I have never had any atonomy. I have always had to be at a certain place at a certain time or drop everything I am doing and run off somewhere else on my bosses whim.

I want some of the time for me now. I want time to write whatever I want to write along with my appraisal and consulting work. I want to get up when I want to and make my own travel arrangements. I want to decide when I spend the 8 to 10 hours a day at what I do when I want to do them. I have no aversion to work I just want more control over how it is done and when it is done.

I also need the balls to make the jump.

Does anyone out there have this experience? How did you do it? How did it go for you? How do you feed a family on dreams?

Where have you been Pirate man?

I've been everywhere man. I've been to the ends of life, I've been in the midst of stampedes, I've been right here and over there. The Pirate man was experiencing some technical difficulties with his muse and his desires. Sometimes the too many days at sea can leave a pirate listless, uninspired, doubtful, and just plan blue. I was experiencing some heavy doubt and was unable to play. So I took my muse and went home. I have spent most of my hiatus in introspect. I took the time to make a mental priority list and took time to appreciate it.

Too long I had burnt the candle on both ends. Family, work and friends, mostly work, was rightfully calling my number and I ran to it with passion until one day I wanting nothing but my family. I couldn 't keep the passion burning for anything other than my four kids and my wife.

Now after some travel with most of them I feel compelled to get back in the deck and start through my commentary and my prose around again. I have missed all of you greatly some of you maybe a little more than others. I have read all of you throughout my leave but left few comments.

Like the NFL I'm back to stay and to hurl some of my unsolicited crap all over the blog world.