Some Days

You know me I really don't like to play victim. I refuse to buy into the victimhood mantality. I have little patience with whining. I have stated many times that life is fair because its crappy for everyone and its what we do with that crap that measures us. I have never accepted long periods of "woe is me" trips, in myself. But for the last three weeks I have not been the happy go lucky Pirate.

It could be the weather. Its been raining damn near every day here in western Oregon. Typical spring for this area and the time of the year. nothing to get all Algored up about.

I know I am not mensing because I have been told Pirates don't do that. That's more a damsel type of thing.

All my limbs and organs are working and the family clan claim that they appreciate me. The dog still comes to me and cat's still ignore me. Everything appears normal there.

I have all Mrs. Pirate's birthday list bought and paid for with three days to spare. The in-laws are on their way but that is three days away.

But I just don't want to play. I am having a hard time finding the color in anything.

There was a rash of people near and dear to me passing away last month. Then last week I pried out of my dad that he has several spots to contend with on his liver and he has to start kemo for the third time in as many years for prostate cancer. He still acts like its no big deal. I do not see any fear in his eyes or hear it in his voice. I sometimes wonder if he really has any feelings about much.

I'm helping a family member with finances due to their health status and the inability to find work due to their condition and that has become a real ride. He now has legal problems and Clint Eastwood's security is all pissed off at him and I am his conduit when it comes to reality. So that has been a real pain in the arse.

My aunt has been in and out of the hospital with heart bypasses and has kept it secret from the rest of us until the last couple of weeks.

Then a project with a client went to heck and probably will end a long term professional relationship and create a big bunch of crap. Nothing I could have done about it but the chips will fall on my lap.

I am informed last week we need to have a new roof put on the house. The bids are all $6,000 and up. Crap.

The refrigerator is making a lot of whistling noises and now the jen-air is howling. When I am in the kitchen batching up the Pirate clan's mess it sounds like I am standing in the middle of cat fight. Or one of the worst choirs to ever be assembled. If the dishwasher even starts to make a noise the shot gun is coming out.

All this and the newly diagnosed diabetics thing have gotten me in a not so good mood. I know there are several more things to whine about but it might start to piss me off.

Maybe tomorrow will better. I apologize for dumping all of this but I have no idea where to put it all.


Peace...

Three Things

I was pressed for time today. A deadline for a project due next Wednesday, lil sister and Slick having a track meet in Eugene today and getting ready for the Pirate-in-laws next week. I couldn't think of anything to write this morning and Peach bailed me out. I have not done many of these because I don't really like them for myself but this one was easy and quick.

Three Things That Scare Me
1. Clowns.
2. Rosie O’Donnell.
3. heights, flying, ladders.

Three People Who Make Me Laugh
1. Larry the Cable Guy.
2. Patrick McManus. Field and Stream humourist, writer
3. Nancy Pelosi and the rest of her dwarfs.

Three Things I Love
1. Life.
2. People that love me.
3. Music.

Three Things I Hate
1. Brussel sprouts
2. lackanucky
3. 5 AM

Three Things I Don’t Understand
1. why people get so indignate when others disagree with them
2. daytime TV
3. Immigrants to the USA that demand we cater to their culture

Three Things On My Desk
1. laptop
2. several piles of paper and stuff, basically a mess
3. three empty coffee cups

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die
1. my 96th birthday
2. have Angelina Jolie make me breakfast
3. explain to Mrs. Pirate I was only ministering Angelina Jolie

Three Things I Can Do
1. walk 30 miles a week with a peg leg
2. type with one hand a hook
3. stick out my tongue and touch my nose

Three Things I Can’t Do
1. scratch the middle of my neck
2. be serious for 24 hours
3. convince Angelina Jolie that Brad is a wimp.

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:
1. your intuition
2. 60s and 70s rock
3. Rush

Three Things You Should Never Listen To
1. someone belittling you or your family
2. Rap music
3. people that think your ideas and drams are bunk

Three Things I’d Like To Learn:
1. the secret to life
2. how to live comfortably by doing nothing the rest of my life
3. if there was someone on the grassy knoll, are there UFOs, Nessy, and Big Foot

Three Favorite Foods:
1. Steak and baked potatoes
2. Chinese
3. Pork chops and applesauce

Three Things I Regret
1. not spending as much time with Blaze when she was growing up.
2. spending too much time smoking dope, cigarettes, and the money spent doing it.
3. watching English Patient.

I didn't tag anyone else but if you think you should do this, knock yourself out and blame me.


Peace...

22 years ago today

One score and 24 months ago today, I pulled into a small town along the banks of the Willamette River, I was looking for a cold beer and a cheap taco. Sitting in the small town of Independence, was a watering hole called, Cooper's Landing. Cooper's was infamous to the local college, economically challenged kids, for its dimer nights and 25 sent tacos.

I had spent the night before destroying many brain cells with several other Pirate types, The Reverend Doctor Abigambi, Pope John Paul, Brian Paul Lezbee and Coondog. We had killed more brain cells then I would ever admit to in front of my parents or a judge. That next morning I was feeling like crap and smelling much worse. My friend Coondog came by in the early evening while I was still convalescing and reminded me that I had promised that I was going to go to Cooper's that evening with the motley crew of brain cell killers because Little Big Band was playing and the tacos had to be eaten.

With every fiber in my body I put my peg leg on, twisted on the hook and found the eye patch. Donned my swashbuckling uniform of feathery hat, fluffy shirt and sabre strap and headed out. We met the usual suspects drinking cheap domestic swill and slopping through corned-shelled tacos laced with bad-ass taco sauce that was concocted at the local mechanics shop owned by Bob the Mek-i-nik, across the street from Cooper's. Thus the 25 cents.

After several glasses of Rainier and Coondog eating half my pack of Marlboro Lights in came the woman I would eventually surrender all my freedoms to for the next 20 some years. Younger then me, a hell of a lot cuter followed by her fine little seat in her jeans. The girl was hazel-eyed, had short brown hair, and standing a smidget over 5 feet tall she stood with a not as cute girlfriend as they looked for a place to sit. I noticed that they eventually found a table way in the back and far from the excitement of the drunk and dancing college lushes.

I slapped back another half glass of confidence and approached the two ladies in the back. I introduced myself as the brave, courageous, slightly drunk and frank Pirate. I asked the two ladies if they'd like to sit at the table my friends and I had liberated. They agreed to be entertained by the small band of losers I called friends. The cute one couldn't get her eyes off my hat and commented about my tight leotards or the other way around.

Not long after the two sat among my friends I was able to convince the charming and lovely hazel-eyed girl to drink several beers from my pitcher. From here we took the dance floor. With my swashbuckling fancy foot work, several more beers and the promise of passion beyond her wildest imagination this little sweety and I slipped off to my cabin.

And the rest is history. Several kids, many cats and dogs that have came and went and the only constant is the sanity of the little lady who fell in love with a Pirate.

Twenty-two years and counting. She must be crazy.

Peace...

Pirate type letters to the Editor

In Oregon the legislature just passed a law allowing for gays to live without prejudice due to their lifestyle. Those who are gay will be protected from discrimination in their workplace and where they live because who they express their physical love to. The community will now be able to develop civil unions of some sort that allows them to enjoy many of the legal protections that straight couples are allowed.

I do not have a dog in this fight and have most often made the usual Pirate smart-ass remarks. I laughed and said more then once, "Let them play house". I personally do not care what two adults do in their privacy as long as they do not want me to watch and do not tell me about it. Unless its some hotty like Paris Hilton and Anglina Jolie.

But you can imagine the letters to the editor in the local paper. There is quit a stir over the topic. People claim that without such rights their love will be deminished and others have claim that giving such rights will lessen the status of their love for their spouses. None of this really makes sense to me because I have given the finger to those who judge me long ago.

A week ago a writer named Michael Hunt claimed he was a gay person and he was damn tired of riding in the back of the bus. He no longer wants to ride in the rear and eventually wants to drive the bus.

This letter was followed by a stream of folks not liking the bus driving metaphor at all. Most saying he'll stay in the rear and darn well better get use to it.

Then today a writer responded claiming he was a Christian and had little problem with the desire of people wanting their love for each other to be left to themselves, but he thinks the demand to not ride the rear end of the bus and wanting to be in the driver's seat is equal to "a gay agenda" thing and he will not stand by and let Mr. Hunt push it down his throat. The letter was signed by a Richard Morehead.

Now I have to think these two are friends that like to push the envelope and have been getting together over a couple of beers and having a howling laugh. You'd think there was more then one Pirate out there wouldn't you?



Peace...

Aftermath equals more tragedy

The tragedy at Virginia Tech was a horror we will be reminded of for many years to come and we should never forget.

What saddens me is that the tragedy seems to bring out the craziest parts in all of us. Before any funeral, before any time to reflect, before the smoke even clears the air we are flooded with the din of stupidity.

As I drove up I-5 this morning on my way to see a couple clients I was accompanied by my usual friend, "talk radio". I had a finger on the seek button to attempt to hear what was being said about one of this nations worse nightmares. I hit all the stations to get a feel.

I began to hear the starts of the next political debate. Both sides have cleared their throats, typed out their talking points, and began their banter. A banter that we all have become so familiar with. A banter that is nothing but noise driven by hyperbole. Before the 6 o'clock news even came on last night, I knew these heartless pot stirrers would begin their fingerpointing and their "money-changer" machines would be wound up and ready to charge.

I am talking about the so called experts on why and how these types of tragedies happen.

One commentator is calling for the police chief and school President to be hauled off in chains and leg irons. Thrown in the public square to be stoned. This one blames Charlton Heston. That one knows its Bush or Rosie's fault.

Another thinks the Second Amendment needs to be abolished, immediately. Why should people have the right to protect themselves don't they know their government will do it for them?

Still another is warning those who dare take his guns away, they better bring a crowbar to pry his cold dead hands from it. And enough body bags for those who try.

Other countries have harped that the USA is a society of infidels and this is the horror we bring on ourselves. Them darn Americans have too many freedoms.

There was, and thankfully it died down, a quiet question of, is this terrorism from abroad? I mean the guy doesn't even look like us and he came here from somewhere else. What was that scribbled on his arm?

I have even heard some of those I admire, claim if their would have been someone else in the fire fight armed and ready to shoot, less would have died. I have heard many claim that a well holstered society would prevent this type of thing from happening. The idea of arming the teachers and the staff of educational institutions might be a "logical" idea. But who wants to be there around finals time?

There are cries of banning this or that. Outlawing all of them. Erecting metal detectors everywhere people amass. Questions of each others patriotism because of ones position on guns.

My God, are we nuts?

It has been less then a week and everyone has a solution.

There are way too many of us making money off the tragedies of others. It is not one radio show personality, it is not one political party over another or an ideology. Its an institutionalized crazy house set up as a meat grinder. An event comes along that grabs the attention of the majority of us and the kiosks are set up all around the disaster. Views and solutions are vended like hot dogs, snow cones and elephant ears.

One day its some old cranky entertainer that lets a politically uncorrect word or statement get out of their mouth either under the influence of a mind altering substance or stupidity and the lines are drawn, the fight begins. The rehab hall gets another guest. We then feel somewhat better about them, for awhile that is.

Another day, its a "create-and-produce-nothing" starlette showing her less then desirables and my goodness all the parenting and fashion design experts are on every page of the local fish wrap, butt-wipe paper and every cable news rassilin' show. Yelling and screaming about her unfitness to be like us. What ever happened to that little chubby cheeked baby star we all loved and adored behind her back? She had such a cute belly-button.

A tragedy beyond most of our own imaginations hits us right smack in the mouth and we all come out swinging. Bumper stickers are printed, babies are kissed, tears are publically wiped and the show begins again. New favorites are rushed to the front for public consumption and we all become smarter.

Discuss yes. Discourse most likely. Civility for sure.

We all need to remember there are things on this here big old ball that are evil and no matter how damn hard we try and no matter what new invention is created to end all travieties, evil is still going to get a good lick in on us. At least its going to give us a shiner. Its because evil is working harder to win then we are.


Peace...

Prayers for Virginia Tech

Its really difficult to attempt to be funny or absurd today. I really do not have a introspective nerve in me right now. Its days like this that pull us all together where there are no lines of debate, no opposing views, no spin machines and no politics.

Some sick SOB has decided to impose their warped view of misery by killing a few dozen of this country's future leaders, neighbors and parents. Our prayers need to go out to those who will forever be shaped by this autrocity and the families left to deal with the buring of loved ones. We also need to pray that this is something that will never be repeated or copied in the future.

God be with us.


Peace...

You do not...

As a Pirate of the great vast oceans of this "Big old Ball" I have come to know certain laws of experience. These laws are not passed by legislative bodies, they are not chisled by God Almighty onto stone tablets, they are not provided by the governing sciences either. These are laws that of common sense based on experience.

You do not touch a hot burner on the stove. At least not more then once.

You do not spit or piss into the wind. Unless you like to wear the bile you projext.

You do not count your chickens before they are hatched. This one is definately God's way of making you humbled.

You do not badmouth a waitress or a cook about your food and have it sent back to the kitchen to be prepared the way you want it. Unless you prefer the taste of arm pit sweat or worse.

You do not pull off the mask of the Lone Ranger. According to Jim Croce. I think it depends on who is playing the Lone Ranger. I personally am less afraid of the Lone Ranger then I am Superman so I wouldn't pull on his cape either.

You do not wrestle naked with another man unless you are in prison or making movies for the great land of Kazikstan.

You do not drink out of a can unless you have looked inside first. Trust me on this one.

You do not open a package of bearclaws in the dark while you are driving along some dark highway in northern Arizona without turning the dome light on first before you chomp down on a bearclaw. Another one you have to trust me on.

And the one that comes to mind today is never do you assume Reverends Jessie and Al are finished with their crusade is complete after their target is beheaded.

Behind these two social charaltan huckster's "act" of indignation is a progressive group of socialists that call themselves "Media Matters". This group and those they financially support are bent on rubbing out the voices of the conservative radio and to erase the words of those they disagree with in written word. My guess is Don Imus is only the beginning of the movement. So if you have a favorite columnist or radio personality that may wrankle the panties of the left be prepared to watch them lose their heads this upcoming political season.

Oh, and do not ever think the Pirate isn't going to provide his comments on all things political or social. Can't help it.

Peace...

Off to Tralfamadore

I know two posts in one day. I just read that one of my favorite writers left us this evening for another planet. I hope he has someone here to carry on with his satire.

I know a lot of people found his writing off kilter, whimsical and difficult to follow but I often found myself sitting in bookstores gulping down some hot house coffee lots of room for cream and five blue bags, reading the first chapter or two of whatever Vonnegut I pulled off the shelf. He started a story better then anyone I ever read. Most of the books wandered and lost me from time to time but they were exciting adventures.

“I will say anything to be funny, often in the most horrible situations,” Vonnegut once told a gathering of psychiatrists.

I understand this better then any quote I have read. Humor helps deal with the pain.

I know he is now wandering the heavens with Pvt. Pilgrim pissed off that he was wrong about there being no God.

Peace...

The Prophetic Pirate

I promise this is the last time this week I will get all political on you. I just have to throw this idea out there that has been bustin' upside my brain for the last two weeks or so. This is only my observation and since this my blog, its right.

As an observing student of the polemic adventures if both the left and the right I have come to some conclusions about people and groups of people. I have learned to generalize and stereotype as good as the rest of 'em. So here is my projections of what will happen before the first Tuesday in November 2008.

Hillary and Barry O. I personally like Barry better then anyone running at the time. I feel the exact opposite for Hillary. I think Barry conjures up the best and possibly the worst in all of us. On one hand here is a man that is what the term self-made is all about. He doesn't come from any form of financial wealth. He has used his life's experiences to shape what appears to be a kind, well spoken, thoughtful, considerate and caring person. He avoids as much as possible the silly little spats and muslinging the politcal atmosphere tends to drag or push its participants through. He would be a good neighbor and friend without question.

Hillary in my opinion is the opposite all of that she has risen on the coattails of her driven husband all the long selling herself as the "smartest women" in America. She has proven to be vindictive, manipulative and phoney. She hides behind her forced smile and avoids any situation where she may be asked anything tougherer then, "What's on your iPod?" But puts herself out there as an authority of issues she has only opined on after the wind direction has been determined. I would never want her in my neighborhood let alone be a neighbor.

Hillary will win the Democrat's primaries because she has alrady been ordained by the leadership. Plus Barry has never went up against the juggernaut that makes up her political machine. He may get rock star status but she controls the airwaves. She knows where all the bodies are buried, Barry hasn't found the shovel yet.

After winnig the primaries there will be a call for her to place Barry on the ticket with her. And if you think Hillary will have a running mate that could overshadow her you're missing the vindictiveness of this person. Once nominated she will never again stand next to anyone that could cast a shadow over her.

Hillary will select a wallflower but nice guy like Bill Richardson to be her VP. This will quiet her critics a bit for dissing Barry. Her supporters and spinners will be explaining that Mr. Richardson will be bringing the experience in administrative and foreign affairs that Barry lacked. With big surprises on their faces they will explain that he is a minority, but we really weren't looking that close; wink, wink.

McCain and Rudy. Rudy has proven to be a good administator by getting credit for putting New York back in the black and cleaning up the streets. He has proven he is tough on crime, i.e. John Gotti. He recognizes what is the real scurge in the world and knows that there are a few billion people that get up every morning praying for our demise regardless if we are Democrat or Republican. He has proven that he is not all that loyal in his marriages. He has also shown that he differs with many of those that vote Republican. In their eyes he is weak or wrong on social issues like, abortion, 2nd Amendment and gay marriages. Since I tend to lean Libertarian despite what the great Reverend Doctor Abigambi may tell you. I have never based my own votes on two of the three. But it will be hard for manhy Republicans to hold their breaths and vote for him because of at least one of the three issues.

McCain worries me personally. I know he has a following that defies the political borders. He has been pegged the straight talker and many think he was dupped in South Carolina the compromisin' state in 2000. But I think a lot of the shine has left the apple on this guy. There are many great aspects about the guy such as his war hero status and his unwavering stance on the dangers of the Middle East. Then again those very characteristics didn't get Bob Dole elected.

Between these two Rudy wins. And he will take McCain as his running mate. And we have a close race between the two tickets...

Then before you know the next President steps in the race about September 2007, a few months before the first primary. When fewer dollars are needed, where name and face recognition will bolt you to the top. Fred Thompson gets his red pick up out of the garage, rolls up his sleeves and hits the campaign trail with his straight talking, basset hound face and cleans up the Republican primaries. Losing only New York and New England to Rudy. By March 15th Rudy is singing the praises of Fred and how he has watched Law & Order before Fred was ever in the Senate.

Fred will take Condi as his VP. From the convention they will hit the road in the red pick up. Then in November, 2008 they will garner at least 65% of the vote in a landslide.

They will get 10% of their votes from black America and probably more because of the slight of hand that Hillary pulled on Barry. They will get another 25% of their votes from the women that will finally see that their rightful place is at the top and it is finally being realized by Condi. Then the next 30% of their vote will be male. They will bring home the Reagan Democrats, they will retain the both the moderate and conservative Republicans and the power of this country will finally be shared by all the players except the left.

I know it bored you but I just had to get it out there before we all got to fighting over who should take Imus' place on the radio.


Peace...

What does nappy mean anyway?

While I was hiatusing around for the last several months I missed blogging and boy are you better for it.

You didn't get to get my spin on Anna Nicole Smith and how I thought it was a last gasp PR event. You missed what I thought about my ex-babe's, Paris Hilton, second driving arrest.

Didn't get to read my opinion on Britney's divorce, hair cut, rehab, panty show, rehab, come back, rehab, no panty show, rehab, New Year's drunken display, rehab, letting baby drive, rehab opinion.

You were spared about my take on how I thought the Democrats stole both houses in the last election. And put a PTA chairman and a band of reprobates in charge of the store.

You were saved from my boasting for callling the Colts the Superbowl winners before even one kickoff had happened. (Ask Teresa to go back into her posts last Fall if you don't believe me). And how I think they stole the season from the Rams.

You luckily didn't have to hear my spin on the rantings of Michael Richards, Mel Gibson, Ann Coulter, or the slip of tongue by George Allen, Joseph Biden which probably divulged some of their deepest thoughts.

But unfortunately you (unless you have stopped reading by now) are going to hear my thoughts on Don Imus.

When I commuted to Portland for a few years I use to listen to him on the radio. It was the only thing provocative on the radio that early. Rush didn't hit the airwaves for three or four more hours. And Imus was a pot stirrer. Birds of a feather thing going here.

I personally disagree with Imus on a whole lot of things. I also thought he was a little mean spirited with guests and I never understood why anyone would ever go on his show in the first place. But like any other commuter I liked looking at car wrecks. The one thing for sure is, he is funny at times and listening to a crotchity grouch in the morning is nostalgic when you grew up with one.

I didn't hear what Imus had said, but I had read about it before I ever heard anyone's comment. I read he had called the Rutger's women's basketball team a bunch of nappy headed hos.

This was suppose to be a racial comment?

Being someone who thought they had heard all of the bad things one could call another I became confused. I had no idea what nappy even meant. And I didn't know that hos was spelled that way. I had only heard the word hos used by the gang banger types and the comedians who wanted to express some ghetto jargon. I just never put that word in my head or thought of how it was spelled.

So I Googled nappy to find out what the heck that word meant. The first thing that came up is it is a cutsy form of saying diaper. Some parts of the USA and British kingdom uses the word instead of diapers. So is Imus calling them diaper heads?

Then the next several sites referred to one a Black music group, Nappy Rock. Then there was the Nappy stories which is stories about Black women written by what I assume black women. Then there was something about Nappy Hair Affair of which further confused me.

I then went to my memory banks and remember that one of my closest friend, who just happens to be a black women herself, has used the word describing her dislike of President Bush. So I am still confused and have no idea what the heck it means. It appears to have many meanings and is used by a lot of people describing a lot of stuff. But no where is it used as racist. At least not what I have heard and read.

So why the outrage? I hear the word hos thrown around on the TV all the time. And nappy could mean whatever.

Why did Imus even kowtow to those calling for his head? Why would he legitimize the likes of the poverty pushers like Jessie Jackson or Al Sharpton? Who gave those two the final say on what is offensive or not? are they racial monitors now?

So what was the remedy? Give the millionaire two weeks vacation and stir more interest in his show. You just know he will have an increase in listeners when he gets back from Cancun. And letting us all know that Al Sharpton has his own radio show too. Smells like another PR stunt at least Anna Nicole Smith went to further lengths for her's.

Peace...

Busy being Busy

I have had a hard time getting to the blogger today. I have been working my Pirate rear off today trying to get three reports done and out by the end of this week. I sent the biggest one to the publisher, Can O'Corn. You may remember him from my Sir Von Asswpe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach days. We were both held captive on this isolated island and made to watch the two of them masquerade around as humans.

We were put out to sea on the rickity raft after making millions for that 4 foot tall megla-maniac and his two-ton crotch scratching princess. When we found land Can O'Corn and I decided to start our own businesses. Notice business is plural. I will collaberate I do not do partners. My theory is you only do partners with someone you'd screw or you don't mind being screwed by. Because you are always responsible for what they buy at the store and say at the bar. So you might as well be screwing if you're going to put yourself out there like that and hopefully taking pictures of compromising situations in case you break up later. (Remember that Paris Hilton).

Can O'Corn being the anal retentive atta boy Harry Hairshirt, ex-screaming Eagle Blackhawk pilot took the publishing side of our atack. I the warped one-eyed, hook armed, peg legged fatty smokin, beer swilling, Pirate decided I'd do better as the "Big Picture" guy. It works for us. At least for me it does.

Can O'Corn is able to spend his day analyzing and poking at the detailed chit and I am able to focus on the long haul. Picture Cheech and Chong here. Can O'Corn looks like he's from East LA and I look like a lost Pirate without a map.

I digress. Or was that regress?

Well, anyway. I have been busting my Pirate backside the last several weeks trying to get these reports done. First I got sick which I will go into some other time when I need a shoulder to slobber on, then I lost two grandmothers and four friends in a matter of a week. Right in the middle of all that this butthead that had hired us calls me up and wants his reports.

I said, "Well my good friend", that had the good nature to open up his, what appeared to be frugal wallet, "I have incurred a few personal set backs of late".

He became rather how do you say it, in a nice way? An asshole. "I thought you said I would have those reports in my hands in two weeks, blah, blah, blah".

What he was really saying is he expects the "help" to jump when he calls.

At first I had this fear of losing a client. So, I immediately jumped into the kiss the backside of is royal hindass. Oh please don't think ill of me old guy with the bucks. Then it hit me this guy had talked me down to doing the whole project at about 50% of the market would do it for and then after we started the project piled more and more on. And to think I could get a report out in two weeks on a project twice the size of the regular projects. No way! And further I never told the slime basket I would have it done in two weeks. I have done over 500 of these types of reports and never have they come in in less then 60 days. Then I remembered I told the dolt by the end of April. Yeah that's it. April 30th something!

Then the next day I get this snotty email from the guy. It is obvious to me he just likes to make people eat out of his hand. "Dear Pirate Appraisal guy. Though I can appreciate your sudden illness and recent family lose but I have grave concerns about your firm completing this project at my expectations. So kindly send me what you have completed up until now and I will review it. And determine if I will continue your employment. Yours truely Sir Edmond Fartmuncher."

Good thing my Pirate nerve returned.

I promptly firing back an email telling him he obviously was living in a dream world if he thought for one second this here Pirate was going to jump to his command he's been eating out of the wrong toilet bowl. Though I certainly appreciated the opportunity to do work for him in no way will I catch his farts. In no way would I send him a progress of what I had done up until now and in no way was I going to send him proprietary data for his personal use. And most of all no one and especially not me ever told anyone, that this project would take two weeks. But while you're munching on that one, Edmond here is my bill. Oh yeah and the horse you rode in on too!!! Then I stomped off to another funeral in a foul mood.

When I returned that evening I had received a crow eating email from him pleading with me to complete the report.

Now he will get the report two weeks short of what I had told him in the first place. Watch the slime ball take two months to pay me.

You'd think after 47 years I had figured this one out already. Whenever someone talks you into doing more for less they will be the one that is the biggest pain in the arse. Its always ends that way. I sensed it when I first solicited these people and I didn't listen to that parrot on my shoulder.

Peace...

That just ain't funny dude.

A couple of weeks ago I went to a political party and met this sweaty tubby dude that kept following me around cracking jokes that just weren't funny.

Finally, I said Al tell me your best joke. He thought for a second or two and then hiccupped and smiled. "I'll show, I'll shhhow you that I have the longest, ummm, the longest umm, thumb in the, worrrr, the world". As he kept poking me in the chest.

I said "What? The longest what?"

"The longest thumbbbb" he repeated. " you know what you have one of". Sorry bout that old pirate. hiccup. burp."

"Okay. Let's see this longest thumBBB". As I removed his arm from around my neck and pushed him slightly away to avoid the stench of his political punch.

He showed me his thumb and I must be honest with you I wasn't all that impressed. I said "Al. You ain't that funny dude.


You should ask to be on that stupid Bill Mahuer show on HBO."

Then he looked both ways making sure Tipper wasn't watching or anyone in the press for that matter, liked the ends of his thumb and stuck it up his rear port hole.

Shazam he maybe onto something there.

I will certainly take him more seriously from now on. It became a real hit the rest of the night. You constantly saw him pulling people aside and going through the same routine. As I was leaving I heard these two asking him to do it again over and over at least twelve times.

Me thinks these three have had too much political partying.

Peace...

Books

As I was on hiatus from blogging I found myself reading a several books worth mentioning. Some were good some were not so good but the are going to mentioned anyway.

The Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill. Joe Hill is the son of Stephen King. The story is original and worth reading. Hill has incorporated some of his father's talent and several of the same means of keeping the contempory reader interestd by mentioning contempory musicians, books, and current events throughout the story. I have to admit there were several times I said,"Uh?" and had to go back a page or two to see if I missed something. Overall it is a good book.

House of Sand and Fog by andre Dubus III. I enjoyed this one as well. It is a story that teeter-totters back and forth between two people surrounding the importance of a specific house. I liked it a lot.

Survival of the Fittest by Johnathan Kellerman. Its a typical Kellerman novel that kind of drags on but it is worth the read. Some times I think Kellerman is getting paid by the word. Often he goes on a little long in areas.

The Conspiracy Club by Jonathan Kellerman. Ditto.

The Innocent Man by John Grisham. It is Grisham's attempt at non-fiction. To be honest with you it is no, "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote but it a good read. I sat down and pounded this one out in a day and a half which may say something about the ease of the read. i have only done that with two other books in my life.

State of Fear by Michael Crichton. This one will surely wrangle the likes of Al Gore and his alarmist position about the state of humans destroying the world. Good book like most anything Crichton writes.

Lisey's Story by Stephen King. Longer and repetitive then it needs to be. The pace is confusing at times. But I am a King fan so Iread anything he writes.

Cell by Stephen King. A little more exciting about how dangerous cell phones can be. Interesting idea lacked some of King's heart in the telling though.

All the Trouble in the World by PJ O'Rourke. Older book I found at a yard sale. I can't resist O'Rourkes slant on world observations. If you don't have a sense of humor and have a tendency to resist the idea that conservatives can have a sense of humor themselves don't bother.

Citizen Soldier by Stephen Ambrose. Non-fiction book on the WWII soldiers and the type of people they were.

Benjaman Franklin by Walter Isaacson. My favorite character in history. I think old Ben may have literally been the father of our country.

The Darwin Conspiracy by John Darton. Another book that titilates the myths most people have grew comfortable with. It is a historical mystery and a fun read.

Sea of Glory by Nathaniel Philbrick. It is the second book he has written about the sea and those who make their lives on the open waters. This one was historically interesting but not written as well as his last book Heart of the Sea which I loved. This book was about the mappig of the South Pacific the previous was the whale ship, Essex, that was sunk by a great killer whale. The story Moby Dick was based on the incident.

There have been more nut I can not remember. Some times they run together in my mind.

Have a Happy Easter and remember the reason for it all has less to do with eggs, bunnies, chocolate and ham and more to do with the grace of forgiveness and the lengths that someone will go to, to show you their unconditional love for you.

Peace.

Hey Give That Dude a Carbon Credit Card

You know me I like to stir the pot with the best of them. Often my political stance is presented to just piss off the room. Of late there is the big old debate about global warming and if humans can be held accountable for it or not.

I think it is obvious to all of us if you pour a lot of gunk in a glass jar after awhile the jar looks like it is full of gunk. And if you want a clean jar you just dump it out. No more gunk in the jar.

Now the debate surely isn't as simple as that, but at times when the news channel is on behind me here in my office you'd think it is. I've heard stories of Vikings growing grapes in Greenland 700 years ago and I have heard of polar bears drowning. So I am torn. Were the Vikings just drunk and why don't someone give them bears waterwings?

I've heard that humans only account for 1% of the carbon emissions and that USA is responsible for 25% of that total. If my math is right I figure if we quit breathing, living, moving and being who we are we can remove .25% of all the carbon emissions. In the big scheme things it sounds like a fart in a hurricane to me.

Then it hit me we need a fart tax, i.e. a carbon tax. So I went out on the web today to see if I could catch some of the biggest farters to send a bill to.


This guy has to be at least $75,000 behind. You can tell it even hurt. Has to be all that spicy Pakistani food





If Denny hasn't ,yet you know he's about to. Breakout the wallet bud.

I'm sure these two have enough hot air between the two of 'em. give you style points but you gotta pay too. While I am at it, don't you think these two would make lovely children?

I will have the head office send a bill too. How much do you think we should bill them?

If I have a point in this post it obviously is on the top of my head. Only thing I can gather from both sides is this; someone is going to have live in that jar, gunk or not. And there are a whole lot of folks pushing nothing but hot air.

Peace.

South Carolina Compromise

For a country boy from the Coast Range Mountains of Oregon going to South Carolina was like traveling to another country. The only difference was I didn't need a passport. With travel restrictions getting tighter I may need one in the future.

This is in Charleston where both the Revolutionary war and the Civil war all began. I had no idea that so much defiant history haunted this town. Just think within the last two hundred years the folks of this little city have told "Big Gubberment" to take a hike. "We don't need your taxin' n regulatin' round here".

Prior to taking this business trip last January I had never been any further east then Wyoming. But I had watched plenty of "Flip this House". A week before goin' south I happen to see Richard Davis and his crew rennovatin' an eatin' establishment in Charleston called, "The Crab House". As soon as I was done with my work I beelined to the Crab House where these two lovely people gave me crabs. They looked damn happy about it to. They were from Oregon themselves so they were so happy to oblige. Southern Hospitality "Oregon" style.


Then we all headed for Columbia. The capital that is. Not the country in South America. When we were there we visited the capital buildin' and set out findin' what ever happen to there Southern Cross flag. We finally found this nice gubberment guy named, Skipper P. He told us that they use to fly the Southern Cross flag on the top of the capital, a hundred feets in the air. Then these intolerant Yankee type trouble makers got their panties in a bunch and demanded they take that there flag off of that there capital buildin'. Then a whole bunch of people got all red and stuff. Ticked off at each other and a bunch of old sores were opened and all. Then they decided let's do what all good gubberments do. Compromise!

So they went a compromisin' and arm twistin' and a little more arguin' which all sounded like a lot of work, but it wasn't. Then one of the good old boys named Leghorn or Foghorn sumpin' says Yeah all! why don't we just take the darn flag down and put it on the capital grounds? Man ol' mighty, holy lord jumpin up and down, the place went crazy. You'd a thought Clemson had won the national title and all. Dey had finally brought the darn issues to a conclusion. And it didn't cost all dat much. Gubberment on the cheap ain't heard of these days.

One side thought hey, yeah we won dis here fight. Yes we did, Hmm, hmm. Thems goin' to take that rebel flag down from the top of dat der dome. And put it on da ground. Yep, yep, we wins. The NCAA will finally come heres and have a convention or sumpin. And thems Yankees will leave us alone til da next election.

So now da rebel flag flies proudly at da entrance of dat dere captial buildin' . Instead of hundred feets above where you couldn't see it all dat good. Another fine gubberment solution.

Bein' from Oregon and all I think you need to be careful how you compromise.


If you look real close you can tell that is Buford Pusser Pirate himself guardin' dat dere rebel flag.

What a March

I was looking at the last time I had posted a comment on my blog prior to yesterday and I realized so much has went by since. I almost feel like Ichabod Crane. I have yet to see any headless horsemen, but the campaign for the next US President has only just began.

First off, the family and business are healthy. I have been reading and writing plenty but not as much as I had wished. All of our kids still love us and Mrs. Pirate has been awarded more medals of tolerance. I have had more work then I could have ever wished for and like any other businessperson out there I wish for more.

I use to like to boast of having three grandmothers alive. One 103 years old, one 93 years old and a young one of 83 years old. Well this last two weeks we lost the two elder gals in the posse. If you want you can go back and read about my Grandmother Lucille in a post March 7, 2006. She passed away March 22, 2007 after being laid up from a fall where she broke her leg last Thanksgiving season. Then this last Friday my mother had called me to let me know my Grandmother that was 103 years old passed away in the Sacramento area.

Grandma Lucille had lived her last four months in a home where she was pretty much bed-ridden. She never allowed her humor or wits to leave her. Not even up to her last days. A month before she passed away I had just gotten back from a trip to South Carolina and wernt to visit her. The home had moved her to another room. When I found the new room I sent in and was not able to determine which elderly old lady was my own grandmother. After staring at two rather withered old gals fat asleep in neighboring beds with the same buzz cuts I told my daughter, who was with me, that this must be the wrong room. My daughter laughed and said this one is grandma, I think. The name tag above her bed had her name but the two weeks of my being away changed her so much.

She finally woke up and was so happy to see the two of us and began her discussion how she thought the Oregon Ducks and Portland Trailblazers were doing and what she anticipated their season outcomes would be. We then discussed politics of which she and I have never agreed on. She then shared a couple of family stories with us and then tired out. I told her how difficult it was to determine which one of the old gals in the room was her with their haircuts. She told me she thought the beautician had butchered her hair and she thought she looked like an old man or possibly a lesbian.

My 103 year old grandmother just suddenly took ill one day. She was taken to hospital where she had asked for her Bible and magnifying glass. Shortly after reading she went to sleep and passed away. Nine years ago my grandfather had passed away short of their 70th wedding anniversary. At the funeral grandma had told everyone she was disappointed in grandpa's passing because she had always figured they would grow old together. I guess being married a month short of 70 years after a two week courting was not long enough.

Along with the lose of these two fine women we dealt with four other deaths. So March was fairly sad.

Now with my health back and spring in the air I plan to get back to my once regular routine of work and blogging. I have so much to say about World affairs, current events, weird news, Oregon Ducks, a trip to South Carolina, business, Nancy Pelosi and her sisters in absurdity, Rosie O'Donnell and Mrs. Bill Clinton. I also look forward to giving my take on Barak Obama, Rudy G, and the other leader wannabes. I plan to blog about some of the books I have read, movies I have watched and other observations.

I also have a lot of make up reading to do of my favorite bloggers and to see what is new with the blog world.

After Hanging with Keith Richards Awhile

It hit me after hanging with Keith Richards for sometime that his folks kind of stunk.

Going forward the Pirate will be flying sober and high only on life. After praying for several years to kick the monkey off my back, the Lord finally had freed me of the buzz in my head.

I ended every night for the last 30 plus stoned. As I sent my prayers to God asking him to watch over all my family, friends and whoever may have been in my thought that day I always pleaded with him to take my desire to self medicate away from me. Earlier this year he did. In great fashion.

As I laid on the bathroom floor gasping for breath in the middle of the night and assuring Mrs. Pirate it would be alright I made a deal with God. "Please God kill me now or let me keep going. And if I'm going keep going let me do it free of substance".

I made it throught the night and barely through the next several days. As each following day and left my health improved (with the help of a good doctor) I noticed I had no desire to but poisons into my body. None at all. No more smokes, no more alcohol, no more pot, no more buzz for this Pirate. From now on my sailing will be substance free.

The only thing that should be said from now on is, "its about time dumbass."