Friday, January 27, 2006

Let the Race begin

Yesterday I was asked what are five of my guilty pleasures. I was a little surprised by the question and not in my best form so i threw out five that came to mind. Reading them today I can see there is not much guilt in any of them. I must admit those who know me closely, know that my favorite guilty pleasure is discussing politics. I do not mean a heatd discussion but more of a discussion of the mechanics of politics, the game that is played and how that game affects the country and the world.

In no way do I associate my failures and successes to who is elected to the White House. I take full responsibilty for all my outcomes and refuse to point a finger at the President and their administration for any shortcomings that arrive at my door step as well as not giving them the credit for anything good that happens to me.

I am keen enough in my vision to realize there is only a smidget of difference between the two major parties and have no doubt anything we experience under one administration we most likely would have experienced the same under the fool that ran against them in the first place. There is little doubt in me that the on-going saga that we all see, hear and read about daily is basically scripted and played out for the voting public. Not the citizenry, not the haves or have nots, no all the yammering we associate with politics is played only for those who vote.

If Gore would have beaten Bush in 2000 the terror in NYC, Washington DC and Pennsylvania would have still happened and Gore would have had to respond and he wuld have responded just as Bush has done. And the dbte today would be how incompetitent he and his administration is and they lied about WMDs and blah blah blah.

Now why I wanted to post this today. I honestly think who is elected in 2008 has a chance to change this country like no other since maybe Lincoln or Reagan (yes I equate these two men with each other). In 2008 the race will be wide open. No one will be running for re-election which is a first for many generations of Americans. I believe it may be the first since Eisenhower's first run for office in 1952. This upcoming race will not have a recent VP or President in it.

So who will run? Hillary of course seems to be the obvious for the Democrats and there is Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico, the recent governor of Virginia, may be Al Gore but he may be in a padded room by then or Hillary will have him shot. The freshman Senator from Illinois or a complete dark horse, and we all know teddy kicks himself everyday for his drunk driving mishap or he'd be in this like a shot. On the republican side there should be McCain, Senator George Allen, maybe Rudy of NYC, we all know Arnold would love to, and my favorite Condoleeza Rice.

Who do you think will be a strong candidate? Who maybe a dark horse? Any surprises you may forsee? Is there another sawed-off nutcase like H. Ross Perot out there? Maybe a suave Hollywood type? Maybe my Ohio friend Libby? Or Marg in Pierce County who ciurrently bangs the gavel as the President of the Booster club? I'm curious who you all think should or will be our next leader.


Thursday, January 26, 2006

One more candle

I am a product of high school sweethearts, literally. Born to two young high school kids who should have been concentrating on their homework but preferred driving around in my dad's '57 chev. Maybe it was the MotorVu Drive in or the backroads home from the movies, whatever the mood, it produced the Pirate. I would never know it by the love that was bestowed upon me all my life by my family but I am confident that there was a time there was some real pissed off parents. I was fortunate to have grandparents that loved me dearly but their kids were only a Sophmore and Junior in high school when they had to lay it on the line. It was a small town and my grandfather was the local police chief so there is no doubt I was a viable tissue mass that rumors are made of. Thanks be to my parents and the old '57 chev.

When you say the number, 46, you think of your parent's ages. It sounds too close to 50. All kidding aside I have no reluctance to my age. I thank God every day he gave me another day to harrass others, to plot devious schemes, to consume air, to espouse my opinions, to fart in store aisles, to give the finger to those that just plan bug me, to be the devil's advocate in a discussion, to read and watch whatever I want and to blog. Thanks be to God.

You know Elvis may have been king and had the looks, the voice and all the ladies but he never saw 46. So he can have all that I'll take my gifts.

Others that share this day with me: the great state of Michigan, Paul Newman, Anita Baker, Wayne Gretzke, Eddie VanHalen, one of my best friends Yvonne, General Douglas McCarther, the guy that played Paul Drake, this chick I met in college in my early Pirate day, who crossed my evil path one night and was as wild as.. (that's another post), my niece, Katie, and I'm sure there are more that I can't remember because I'm getting old.

My boss was nice enough to give me the day off today. Yep, I slept in until 9:30 this morning and got up, got a cup of coffee, turned on an old Jimmy Stewart movie and like clockwork my dad called. No matter where I might be on my birthday my dad has always got a hold of me first, as long as I can remember.

Older, fat, lovable and one mean Pirate.

Meredith tagged me for Five guilty pleasures. So bear with me or should that be bare with me.

1. Hollywood. I love movies, TV and all the bullcrap that goes along with it. I am a Hollywoodphile if there is such a word. I have always loved trivia and where else can one find so much trivia other then the place where most trivial events happen, Hollywood.

2. Passion. I love anything with passion. A debate, an explaination, a sporting event, love making, kissing, a piece of art, anything that projects passion. Even if I don't agree with it I am enamored with passion.

3. Being alone. I like the solice, the time to think, the opportunity to reflect and sense of no one expecting anything from me at that moment. To be self-absorbed for awhile.

4. The partaking of the herb.

5. Lust.

Good thing Meredith only wanted 5.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

A self imposed exile

I have not died nor have I gave up blogging. I was just in hiatus or a self-imposed exile for awhile. I attended a memorial for my buddy Phil and was able to catch up with childhood friends I haven't seen in many years. Some as long as 20 years. I was reluctant to go to the memorial for some reason but I knew in my heart I had to go for Phil's mom, brother and sisters.

I find it a bit macabre with a sense of comfort when we can find so much laughter and smiles along with tear-welled eyes and broken hearts at such get togethers, with people we haven't been around in so many years, especially at a memorial for a unexpected death of a loved one. I spent most of the five hours at the memorial with a smile on my face and a tear for those Phil left behind.

Many great stories were told of our growing up together. Most memorable others told from another's view with twenty plus years of yellowing that clouded some of the memory dressing some of the stories in new clothes with familiar themes.

The picture is of most of those that grew up together with only a few missing. rmember there were only ten people in my graduating class.

Tomorrow is my 46th birthday and if I am up to it I may post. i plan to go back at the blogging 100% next week.

Monday, January 16, 2006

What does the Pirate do for a living

I have been asked many times what I do for a living. What was I doing for Sir Van Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach? How did you fill their pockets with so much money?

My usual response when I'm asked by my wife, my kids or their friends, is I'm a hired killer, an assassin. I travel from place to place exterminating the blight of our world. Removing the sick animal from the herd in order to save the rest of the herd.

My target could be a small town businessman or business partner who has stolen millions from the local economy or those who trusted them, an ex-mobster that has found a paradise to hide in for their retirement, a child molester who continues to prey on the innocent, a drug dealer who has thwarted the law, a spouse abuser that avoids help and continues to terrorize those most reliant upon them. Bascially I am a social-oncologist removing a cancer from society, that has to be removed.

At first calling one's self a killer makes people snicker and roll their eyes. Then eventually they begin to think I might not be kidding, they either recoil from the potential danger of fratinizing with a being like myself or they kiddingly make remarks about my next target and attempt to assure me they are in my corner; buddies if you will. Most often no matter what side one comes down on believing me, I leave doubt in their eyes about me. Their assessment of my social involvement, my faith in God, my love of my family and friends, the ever present smile in my eyes and the constant humorous slant to my observations makes many believe that I am pulling their legs. My ability to only provide ambiguous information about my work and travel secures their fears I might be telling the truth.

To some I am a Pirate sailing from port to port gloating my last conquest and filling the tavern patron's bellies with cold beer and more spirited drink, leaving extra on the headboard for the damsel who surrendered to the filth of my piracy the evening before and consuming most of the air in every gathering about the town. going about the port spreading crumbs of my conquer in my wake. Creating legend, myth and dispair for all those who have witnessed or endurred my visit.

To some I may be their sports hero who scored hundreds of points on the hardwood and the grid iron, a sports legend that only rivaled the likes of Simpson, Ruth, West or Montana. Others may have known me through their reliance on my tender love toward them or through the unsettling way I rarely sit still. I know there are those who know me by my father's name and by the way my mother loved me. Many who originally doubted me that now firmly stand in my corner and the opposite of that.

I often tell people that I am a teller of tales spinning yarn in search for pulp. I have been known to tell people that I am a doer or a lay about, a dandy or a rough, others are told that I am an artist, a thief, a chief, and a crook. My favorite self imposed praise is that of a father to four, a husband, a son, a brother and a friend.

What do I do is a tough question for me. One that is hard to answer, not because I am trying to be difficult or am denying my vocation but because I do not know myself. On my tax return I claim to be an Industrial Appraiser. An appraiser of manufacturer's sites, applying several approaches to value and putting my hard earned college major, economics, to work to determine the value of a facility and how it fits in the micro and macro sense of its own industry.

But is that what I do? Or is it the means to pay for what I prefer to do? Am I to be defined by my choice of career or by my ambitions? Is it to be said the Pirate was a bolt-counter or he lived his life doing what came to him every day?

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Thank you

I thank you all for recent comments on Blaze's post on Ryan. It meant a lot to her and to me as well.

I apologize for not posting much of late. I have been up to my eye brows with my new business and the basketball league of which I am a coach and coordinator. This week I have had little time to drop in and let everyone know that I'm still here.

Though it has been a bumpy road of late for friends of my daughter and myself it has not been nearly as bad on us as these recent loses have been on the immediate families. I appreciate all of your prayers in both Phil's and Ryan's loses. I am confident these prayers will find their way into these two mens families and provide comfort in ways we will never know.

I've been trying to get thirty new letters and phone calls completed each day in my business. This goal has found itself to be quite a task to anage every day. So far I have met the goal of at least thirty per day. If anything I'm keeping the next postage increase at bay.

Sir Von Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach called tghe other day and tried to rip me for soliciting people they claim are their clients. Since I never signed a non-compete and Asswipe did provide a letter that he was retiring, I told him business is business. Sorry he feels tread upon but he should have considered that when he kicked Can-O-Corn and myself to the curb.

You should have heard the sawed-off piece of ass wipe as he screamed and yelled at me on the phone and made threat after threat. I thought I was witnessing my first self-combustion over the phone. He was telling me I have dug a deep hole for myself and he won't help me out of it.

I kept asking him why it mattered since he was retiring? He told me to send him my mailing list so he could gleem out those clients he feels are his. My response was, RIGHT!.

No, no, sputnik, you send me your list and I'll do the gleeming. Just as you thought it was safe to go back in the water and this jerk shows up and tries crapping in the water.

Well that's the way I found it.


Monday, January 09, 2006

A comment from Blaze

My daughter had seen my post on Ryan Walker and added her comment. I thought it was far more important then my post. now you can see why I feel blessed to have her as a daughter.

Thank you for everyones prayers. I always read my dads blog but very little do I ever add my two cents. Today I feel that I need to. As everyone knows my friend was killed this last week in Iraq, and as everyone also knows that I am NOT republican, I do not agree with this war and thats why I need to say something today. Every paper I have read this week and every news channel has talked about my dear friend Ryan as a brave soldier. A war hero, Yes he is. I also thank him for all he has given this country but he is so more than that. No newspaper has talked about Ryan as he was, the everyday hero. Ryan and I were roomates in college and good friends. Ryans dreams were not to go to war a die for his country. Ryan was a loving guy everybody enjoyed to be with. Ryan's dream was to get a Firefighter/Paramedic job, get married have a few kids and hang out with his friends.
Ryan was a wrestler in high school and always made sure everyone knew how many times he went to state. If he could he would of stayed a high school wrestler his entire life. every time a group of friends got together he would turn our living room into a wrestling match.
Ryan always ate mac and cheeze for dinner out of the pan me made it in because he hated doing dishes.
He was the worst dancer but he always put on some stupid rap song and danced around the living room to make people smile.
He was never mad.
He always had a huge smile on his face.
All his friends would giggle if he swore because it sounded so funny coming from Ryan's mouth.
He hated drinking, he would drink one beer and hold it all night and act as stupid and drunk as everyone else so he fit in.
And he always drove us home from parties safely.
Every girl in school had a crush on him but he was still in love with his high school sweetheart, Darcee. I don't have any full set of dishes because he was a clutz and broke one of everything.
He stayed up late studing everynight, school was not easy for him but he always made it look like a snap. Usally had a 4.0 avg. He graduated the Fire program at Chemeketa Comm. a few years ago and was working on all his medical classes. He was accepted to the Paramedic program and one day later went to join the millitary to be medic for all of our country.
He enjoyed every kind of music.
He was in the gym countinously.
He would make me walk the two blocks to school even if it was raining. He would call me a pansy if I drove but everytime I offered him a ride home he would take it.
He loved oreo cookies.
He would leave his bedroom door open in the night because I was scared of the dark and it made me feel better if he could hear me if I yelled.
He was very shy he always blushed if someone said something inapproprate.
He would never say a rude thing about anybody.
He never complained about a thing. He dyed his hair more than I did. Ryan Walker was a great guy, good friend and much loved by many of us. Yes he was a soldier. But I want everyone to know he was so much more than that. Please keep all our heroes in you prayers.

Just a couple of cow pokes

Where would someone come up with such a name for a movie based on the love between two cowboys? I snickered when I first heard of the movie, "Brokeback Mountain". Not as much at the subject matter but by the name of a movie covering the subject matter. Call me a homophobe or a closed minded redneck or what ever but allow me a sense of humor. But why "Brokeback"? It may be too descriptive.

My first thought was this movie is going to pucker the ass of all those old cowboys. I pictured John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Jimmy Stewart, Ronald Reagan and Gene Autry all rolling over in their graves. Then I thought this may be a stroke of genius by the producers. It may be an attempt to roll up a chick flick and guy movie all in one.

As a cowboy movie it may be the first time the good guy gets it in the end.

Don't give me any of your wrath because that's the way I found it.


Saturday, January 07, 2006

Ryan Walker

Yesterday my oldest daughter, Blaze called and was crying. She told me one of her roommates from college, Ryan Walker was killed in Baghdad. It was a very tough conversation and one that brings this war to one's own front door.

You see Blaze and most of her friends disagree with the war on the same principle I agree with it. We have had many discussions about the war knowing that we have family and friends on the front lines. The conversations have never been heated. We have found ground to agree to disagree, if you will. Blaze and Ryan though opposite in political opinion were equal in their love of country and the rights we possess. They also have a nature within themselves that drives them to serve others. They remained friends as many college friends do.

Ryan Walker who I met only a few times but was amused by. He was a young Republican type, conservative of a man with an urgency to serve. When I met him he was sharing an apartment with Blaze while they went throught the firefighting and paramedic courses in college. He attended several of our family's get togethers for no other reason other then to find a free meal like any intelligent college kid would and to talk with people. He always greeted you with a smile, a manly look in the eye and a firm handshake. I was impressed with his zeal and his lack of restraint to share his opinions. My kind of guy.

He was in Baghdad by choice and was serving all of man kind by preserving freedom for those of us who often take it for granted and delivering freedom to those who know nothing of it. He was a paramedic who was to come home soon and from what I gather continue his zeal to serve as a paramedic in our community. He was a real hero.

My heart and prayers go out to Ryan Walker, his family, his friends and those who served along side of him. Thank you Ryan.

Friday, January 06, 2006

In the News

Scanning the globe, reading papers and blogs from around the world, eaves dropping, and plan old making stuff up I have gathered some crazy shit going down on this big ball.

Date line, London. Some scientist with not much to do, have recently discovered that pets are getting fat. According to recent studies, 33% of all pets are over weight. They have discovered that these pets eventually develop health problems such as diabetes, high blood pressure, and heart ailments. Well duh! I certainly hope with all the problems Britian has, this is not one of their major concerns. From my experience the people that I have known, that watch every aspect of their pet's health, usually bury their pet long before the fat yippy dog that the old lady at the end of block owns.

From France. An elderly performance artist attacks a toilet with a hammer. The Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain" a porcelin urinal (pisser, head, john, crapper, etc) built in 1917 and considered by many, one of the greatest works of art and is estimated to be worth $3.6 million, was slightly chipped by the performance artist. Apparently this is not the first time the constipated artist has attacked the "Fountain" located in Nimes, France. In 1993 he took a piss in it.

Rush, Colorado. Rancher Clyde Cless says he has a theory on what happened to his prized heifer over a decade ago. Apparently the prized cow was killed and had its lips, tongue, eyes, ears and reproductive organs removed in laserlike fashion. The rancher suspects the government is behind the killing of the animal. "Cuz dem guys are da only folks who have tools like dat". It was also heard that Oliver Stone and Michael Moore are fighting over the rights to the story. Stone thinks Nixon and the CIA are obviously behind this and Moore just wants another whack at Bush. I'm smelling Oscar here...

Today January 6 is "Bean Day". Man its going to be a smelly lair tonight. Phffft!!

At a resort in Israel a millonaire Brit named, Sharon Tendler married a 35-year-old dolphin, named Cindy. The only weird thing here is a male dolphin with the name, Cindy. Its like the ranch hand character that replaced Adam Cartwright on Bonanza who was named Candy. I suppose naming a cowboy these days Candy isn't all that farfetched. Still smelling Oscar...

Russia. A bus driver named Pavel Korban has had a picture of the Russian President, Putin, tattooed on his chest. I have heard of government dependancy but this may be going a little too far. It was over heard during the arguement between Oliver Stone and Michael Moore that Moore was going to have Bush's face tattooed on his butt crack but hadn't decided which one.

Somewhere in the Middle East. Michael Jackson has converted to Islam and is having his own mosque built near his home in the desert. A sigh of relief was heard from the Jehova Witnesses.

From Hollywood. Angelina Jolie has been voted the sexiest star by the group that calls itself the "Lipstick Lesbians". I'm thinking good choice and wanting to know why I was not invited to this year's convention. Just another thing I have in common with lesbians.

Several months ago Billy Bob Thornton claimed that one of the reasons he and Angelina's marriage imploded was because making love with her was like "Screwing a couch". Billy Bob I think the problem is you have a bad aim.

I don't think its Oscar I smell. And that's how I found it and I'm out of here til later.


Thursday, January 05, 2006

Bus ride

I have had this reoccurring dream of late. This is the third time in my life I have had a dream continue over a period of time. Several years ago I had a series of dreams that no matter what happened in the dream it always concluded in Denver, Colorado. Not too strange unless you consider I have never been to Denver.

A few months ago I had a dream that I could fly. I mean literally fly, like Superman without the cape. In every dream I had over a period of time, I always found myself conveying to others that my true secret, was I could fly.

What is different from the current dream is that unlike the other dream series this dream is always the same but ends a little different every time. The two earlier series always ended the same but were only conclusions to different dreams.

My current dream I am standing at the front of a city bus with my back to the windshield. I am holding onto two silver posts, one for each hand, facing the back of the bus that is filled with people I have never seen before. Faces in the crowd if you will. The only familiar person on the bus is the driver who I look over to twice in the dream. The driver is Hoss of Old Snake Horsetail fame.

The bus is careening through a major city with hills. I can see the buildings through the windows on both sides of the bus but I am not familiar with any of the buildings. As the bus speeds down hill, after hill, after hill I hang on tighter and tighter to the two silver posts, swaying with the flow of the bus. Leaning one direction and then the other. Its like downhill skiing, backwards.

Then people in the bus request me to sing "Mustang Sally" and all I can think of when they ask me to sing is the movie, Bullett. I plead with them to allow me to tell them about why I chose the Kansas City Chiefs to beat the Minnesota Vikings in the Super Bowl in 1970 and they all keep requesting "Mustang Sally" the way Steve McQueen would have sang it. I tell them I have never heard Steve McQueen sing but I have seen Len Dawson throw a football.

What changes at this stage is sometimes I am able to get someone else to get up and sing with me. Or maybe someone else gets up and sings the song in my place, but never is it steve McQueen. And on occasions Mr. Howe shows up and explains to the bus riders why he thought it was going to be like taking candy from a baby, when he took the $20 bet from a 10 year old kid and so he took Minnesota to win.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Ode to My Friend Phil Lent

I just got word my best friend from my youth, 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 in my memories of growing up in Valsetz. I thought I would repost this story to give you an idea what kind of mischief 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

Take the time if you will

Please take the time today and open the above link. I think if you take the time to watch this video the calamity of today's world may be more clear to you. It doesn't matter what political party or persuasion you lean toward, it does matter how your family came to call this great country, home and it matters even less if you think Bush is the devil or not this is worth watching and reflecting on.

I am not techie enough to do this one right but all you have to do is copy the link below and put it in the address line and enter. It takes a few minutes to set up and the video runs six minutes. I assure you it is worth the time.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

First Day In charge

I did get the 250 letters into the mailbox last night but this morning I woke up sicker then a dog. My holiday festives shooting out in both directions in a Sam Hell hurry. Dizzy, aching and a slight fever. Can you believe it I have to call in on my first day in charge.

So I wandered downstairs to the cell phone and called my home phone and left a message. It was great I tired to make my voice sound like I was possibly on my last breath. "Heellloooo, Pirate. I don't fell good todayyy. I'm stying home in bed."

I hope he doesn't call me back and rip into me. Calling me a no good for nothing, lazy lay about deck hand.

I hope none of you gets this bug.

***Update; felt better in the afternoon and got at it. I picked up a couple of projects from a contact. He needs my work in Idaho next week. So far so good.

Monday, January 02, 2006

Football, Football, Football

I'm starting to like this life of lazy. I don't think I've watched so much football in my life. Coming from a football junkie that means a lot of football. I started off with the "Will he retire or will he return Bowl" where some of us football lovers may have watched the last of Bret Favre while he walloped the soon to be Super Bowl Champs, Seattle Seahawks. I know Dale has Broncos to hope for and Teresa has those rascally Colts, but I'm going out on the limb right now and will give it to the Seahawks.

Then there was the "Napping Bowl" where I dozed in and out of conscienceness as the Redskins beat the Eagles. By the way where is McNabb when the game is on the line? Probably eating soup.

Then I finished my night off with my Rams puting the hurts on them damn Cowboys. It brought back great memories. When I was growing up it seemed that the NFC always came down to the Cowboys, Vikings and the Rams to see who would have the oportunity to play the Steelers in the Super Bowl. My middle brother Kevin who is a year younger thn me was a major Cowboy fan and I idolized Roman Gabriel, Jck Snow and the Fearsome Foursome of the Rams. Then like clockwork the Rams would end up playing in the NFC champoiinship against the Cowboys and their man Roger Staubach. And without fail the Rams would lose and I'd be set preparing for the next year. There were a lot of times back then where somewhere along the line Kevin would get into his gloating manner and I'd have to kick his butt. I remember one night me in the top bunk and him in the bottom. He was down there going on about something about the game and kicking the bottom of my mattress. I swung down over the edge in perfect Pirate fashion and landed both of my feet right into his head. Then the next day the Steelers put the hurts on the damn Cowboys.

So last night was delightful.

Today, Bowl game after bowl game. Right now I'm watching Ohio State put the hurts on Notre Dame. Its half time and the announcers remin true to their passion and are busy either explaining why Notre Dame is behind and how they are going to come back. Hey, Muesberger, figure it out the Irish are way over rated and this would have happened if the ducks had gotten to play them too.
Don't get me started on the Notre Dame or Brent Muesburger.

I forgot to mention I have been putting together my first solicitation mailing of 250 letters that have to go out tonight. I originally thought 100 would be fine but doubt set in. I have licked so many envelopes today I think my tongue has grown. Maybe i should start my own rock band and give Gene Simmons a run for the money.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Its Official We Are Old

Happy New Year to all of you. I say that without a hangover. I say it without any sleep in my voice or head. I say it because I honestly believe this will be a great year.

Mrs. Pirate and myself found ourselves alone last night. All three of the teenagers had bowling and video game parties to go to. And people gave up asking us out for New Years several years ago because they got tired of the turn downs. So we were stuck at home alone, left with nothing but our own imaginations.

So we watched Lonesome Dove. Snacked on things we had bought just in case we felt like we'd be in the mood for a party. I drank a couple of cold beers. Then about 8 o'clock Mrs. Pirate went to bed without and I decided to see what Dick Clark looked like. I feel asleep before midnight. It must be the first time since I was a little kid watching WC Field and Marx Brother's movies on New Year's Eve.

We then slept in until 9 am and laid in bed for awhile watching football. I have no idea if this is any indication of things to come or not. It just might mean we are getting old. I mean Mrs. Pirate is getting old.

I will let you in on a little secret with me and New Years. My birthday is at the end of January so I really don't start any resolutions or begin anything with a New Year spirit until after my birthday. This gives me time to rethink any promises I was pondering. Or any resolutions I may have thought of. So I don't have to go around in December saying silly things like at midnight 12/31 I will no longer drink, smoke, eat too much, scratch my privates in public, give the bird to authority, defy death, or be a better person. I can save that until the last week of January. And at that time if I detect others breaking their promises or resolutions I take that as an out avoid putting myself in such pickles.

Oh, I know your sying that's cheating but that is what Pirates do. Happy New Year to you that have made the promises and I hope for your sake you are able to meet those resolutions. But don't be too tough on yourself if you don't.