My derailed train of thought!

Call me Max +

2010-04-03T11:25:00.004-04:00

The other day I got an e-mail about a guy who was always happy. His premise was that you voluntarily set your mood when you get up every day. You can choose to be happy and you will be a refreshing breath of fresh air to everyone around you. Or, you can choose to be a grouch and be a miserable pain in the ass to everyone. Of course, there's a neutral middle ground that the majority of people inhabit but like politics, only the fringes seem to get noticed and commented on.

Being someone who has always welcomed new ideas and new thinking, of course I've adopted this mentality as my own! I will be Mr. Happy! When you see someone grin, you'll think "I wonder what Max is doing?" Yes, when that old geezer in front of you in church farts a real gut wrencher, you'll think of me and remind him about having a timely colonoscopy. I hope to infuse life around me with an uplifting positive and yes, happy attitude.

Those of you who know me, know that I don't make these life altering decisions lightly. Before I quit smoking, I took 35 years to prepare. Before successfully turning my weight dilemma around, I studied it for 20 or so years. Yes, for me to come out and announce a life altering decision like this is truly monumental, if not newsworthy.

One of the reasons that I am becoming "Mr. Happy" is to throw off the "Mad Max" tag that Mel Gibson laid on me and all other Maxes in the world. If I'm ever gonna shake that "Mad Max" crap then I must become someone diametrically opposite of a mad guy. In the past when someone referred to me as "Mad Max", I'd say "No, that's happy Max!" But it never worked. Soon, when they see me, the last thing they'll think of is "Mad Max".

To replace that "Mad Max" tag, though, I need a gimmick that will make it memorable. Something like Prince did in the 90's. That won't quite work for me. I would probably be known then as "That Bozo formerly known as Mad Max!" I'm thinking of altering my name sorta like Max +. My motto could be "That Max, what a positive person!" My only dilemma is whether there should be a space between Max and the plus sign or not.

So, when I got up today (Friday) I was ready to become Mr. Happy Guy! After shaking hands with my little brother, I went to my bag to get my morning cereal (I'm at the work hotel in Chicago) and imagine my surprise when I noticed that I had forgotten to pack my usual Grape Nut Flakes. I just went down to the lobby where they have the continental breakfast set up and got me a bowl of "Honey Bunches of Crap" and a banana to slice on top of it. I'm happy for the dietetic change of pace. Come 10:30 and I took some half frozen chili out of my cooler and put it in my little 2 cup crock pot and head off for my 5 mile walk around Midway Airport.

As I walk for the next hour and a half, I greet everyone I meet with a smile and a kind word. In Chicago, not too many people, or at least those who go out walking, running or biking around the airport are very happy. As a matter of fact, there were a couple of old cankers, after receiving my happy greeting, I thought were gonna squat and crap right there on the sidewalk! Being new to this, I don't know "happy" in Spanish so I'm at a loss for greetings to our Mexican friends other than "hola". There are many more Hispanic walkers around the airport than any other ethnic group. I don't know why, nor do I care. That's only important to the grumblers, not us happy types.

When I got to the hotel and went to my room, of course, the magnetic key card didn't work in my door. So, I had to go all the way back to the lobby so the desk clerk could reswipe it. I didn't complain. I saw it as a chance to get a little more walking in! I get in my room, all sweaty, smell the chili (which is perfect) and realize that I forgot to pack clean clothes and I just sweat out my shirt. Am I po'd? Nah. Air it out for a couple hours and it'll be fine. Some of the guys I work with do it all the time! See, I'm fitting in more and more!

I know many of you are asking why I'm going for happy when its so much easier to be grouchy. Its not easy to grin when you break your little toe on a table leg but letting a stream of cuss words fly is a snap. As someone who has always gravitated toward the easy side when making choices, this is a departure from habit. There are a couple reasons. Even though a Pollyanna can get a bit tedious for people around him, its a much better environment for your family than dealing with a bitchy sourpuss. When you're happy, everyone around you is too. When you have a stick up your ass, that stick hits everyone on the head! (Not a pretty sight, huh Fuzzy?)

The other reason is purely selfish. One thing I've noticed about health is that pleasant, happy people rarely have premature heart attacks. Most of my co-workers who've had heart attacks before they retired were bitchers and complainers. A bad attitude results in bad health and a positive attitude leads to a positive healthy being. That might be a load of crap but what if it isn't?

Also, with this new attitude, its a good thing I'm a liberal Democrat. One thing I've noticed lately is the Right Wingers are not a happy bunch. They are spewing hatred and lies about everyone and everything that doesn't agree to their narrow minded stereotypical view of life and such misery can't be healthy for the body, the spirit or for relationships. To them I just smile and say "Vaya con dios, mus muchachos!" Yeah, "Go with God" because unless you lighten up, you'll be seeing him sooner than you think!!

Now, being a happy fellow is nice but unless you do it right, you come out looking like a dork. I'll definitely have to change some of my stock one liners. When someone says "How ya doin'?" I usually say "I'm doing, I just don't know how yet." To "Have a good day" I always say either "I'll try but I won't make any guarantees" or "I'll be sure to make the heroic effort, you can count on it". I've just always figured that as long as people greet me with the same old tired lines, I'll reciprocate with an old tired line of my own. And you never know. If the person hasn't ever heard them before, they will enjoy the witty retort. As the years go by, that possibility diminishes quite a bit. To replace those answers with a "happy" one will take an enormous effort on my part. After all, those other answers were crafted during 56 years of life. To come up with an equally witty, yet happy reply may be too much to ask for. Sadly, I don't have my greatest inspiration to look to for answers. Yeah, if anyone could come up with a great bullshit line on short notice, it was my dad. He was the master of the one liner. The only other person who could help me is my son, Shane. His line of bull has shown flashes of his grandpa that makes my skin get cold! I'll mine that fervid brain of his when he comes home tomorrow for Easter.

To the "How ya doin'" I could say "I'm so happy I could just fart." But farting in public is on my personal improvement agenda and talking about it makes 'em sneak out even more often. Well, eliminating a gassy, bloated feeling would make me a happier guy. How about when someone says "Have a good day" I just turn around and blow a tird whistle. Now THAT would make me happy!

So whether I'm "Happy Max" or "Max +" I don't care. To quote the guy in the e-mail "I couldn't be happier unless I was TWINS!"

"Mr. President, the Beauty and the Beast!"

2010-02-19T12:27:00.002-05:00

Now that Jenny has made a recent blog entry, the pressure has been on my shoulders to produce. Since I'm no social trend setter or fashion icon, I can't impress you with my flair or style. Since I'm a guy, I don't usually carry a camera with me. Therefore, I'd make a crappy family historian. I'll leave that up to Jenny and Shannon. Besides, they're really, really good at it. Unlike Jenny and Shannon also, I'm not very crafty so I'm pretty useless when it comes to blogging about my creations. What's left is what I do best. I'll write about something I'm pretty much clueless about and make you believe that I'm an inspired genius. Its a standard formula that I've used ever since Jenny signed me up for AARP and I wrote that inspired entry about aging.

First off, a shout out to Bob. A good friend of ours got himself buggered up in a traffic accident a while back. Yeah, my fuzzy buddy from Jersey was clocked on his way to Atlantic City. He was on his way , as Jersey people put it, to "pay his state taxes"! He's laid up at home, missing work and probably running poor Barb ragged. Being a faithful reader of this blog also brings his intelligence into question. Knowing that he'll read this, probably before anyone else does, I would like to let him know that Jen and I are thinking about him (and poor, poor Barb!) and wishing that he recovers nicely, finds himself a heartless shyster and sues that bozo back to the stone age! Good luck, Bob, with everything and we hope to see you guys some time this year!

Now, for the meat of this entry. I would like to have dinner (along with my entire family) with the Obamas. Preferably in the White House. But hey, I'd settle for waffle night at IHOP! I feel that I have a lot to offer the President in ideas and solutions to the major problems of the day. Primarily though, I would like to meet the Obama family personally because I believe they are extraordinary people, displaying extraordinary courage in rescuing America from the abyss. Other people are mad at him because he hasn't worked miracles but I'm not. I understand that you can't walk through a chicken coop without getting a little crap on your shoes. I've always said that you take a true measure of a person's character, not how they act when everything is going good, but how they react when things don't go right. In the hardest of times, through the toughest of circumstances, President Obama has been a solid and reliable leader who has expended tons of political capital to do what it takes to stave off a depression, get America back to work with health care for all. The Republicans in Congress have been shameful in their obstructionism and shilling for big business. How they could want to go back to the policies that drove America to the brink of collapse is beyond me. I would be happy if Dick Cheney (with the emphasis on Dick) would get a tonguectomy and go hunting with Mitch McConnell and John Behner, if you know what I mean!

You see, these guys aren't needed to solve the major problems facing America. I've got the answers. You name it, I've figured it out!

Editor's note: I've just written a scintillating and riveting three pages solving such problems as universal health care, job creation, high speed rail and fixing social security. I've read that America's attention span has shortened to resemble that of a gnat's so I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, my arguments were as powerful as Dick Cheney's smile!

So, if there is anyone in Washington or elsewhere reading this, tell the President that there's a guy in Garrett he really needs to meet! If any of you are rich and powerful, drop my name. I'm sure Sasha and Malia would just adore Jaden and Taylor! Since I'm planning on planting a garden this year, I could get some useful tips from the First Lady. I could give the President a couple tips on quitting smoking too. Put us up in the Lincoln Bedroom and Jenny could fix pancakes in the morning!

I've always tried to judge people, not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. Using this criteria, the Obamas are some of America's finest. Even those tea bagger and birther bozos have to agree that America couldn't have a more respectful first family. In his place, I would've slipped and said "eat shit" to someone by the end of the second day. The fact that he hasn't said it yet puts him right up there by Jenny in the tolerance department.

Yes, I would be honored and privileged to be invited to the White House, any time, any day. That's not the hard part. The tough work would be getting time off work to go!!

Party at Shannon's!!

2010-01-03T10:29:00.003-05:00

January 9th will be the anniversary of one of the red letter days of my life. It was the day, in 1982, that my little "honey bunny" was born. Yes, my little Shannon will be 28 years old this year and she is having a blog party all day long on the 9th. Everyone is invited and use this link to check it out for yourself. If its anything like her other creative endeavors, then we are all in for a treat!!!

No more blaming the cat!!

2009-12-28T11:50:00.003-05:00

I really do my best blogging on a long slow train with hours to sit and think. As the last entry illustrates, some trains are really long and really slow! That's why this entry is so rare. I'm still at home, enjoying my yearly year-end vacation. I have been working alot lately around the house and there's nothing on my agenda today so I'm freed up for this little journey into blogdom.

Why an entry today after all this time? I realized that the new year is upon us and its resolution time! As all guys realize very early in any relationship, there's always room for improvement. In order to be the perfect gentleman, vibrant and healthy, witty and urbane, and couth and civil by the time I reach retirement, adjustments must be started now. Other than that pesky blowing off farts in public resolution, I've done pretty well with my last year's resolutions. Get off my ass and exercise, check! Lose that gut, check! The previous two resolutions, to be honest with you, are made every year by any of us who aren't in shape. Along with the the quit smoking resolution, they are, in my case especially, prefaced with the words "Yeah, right!" It is with extreme pride that my resolutions this year will not have to include "Yeah, right!"

There are other resolutions I've made every year since I've turned 18 that are bunnies. Accomplishing them helped alleviate the sting from blowing off the major ones. They included:
1. Pledge not to drive a Corvette over 125 miles an hour.
2. Vow to wear dress shoes when visiting the White House.
3. Be determined to evacuate for the hurricanes and not ride them out, and
4. Only ride non-Arabian horses!

So, typically, at the end of the year when asked if I kept my resolutions, I would say, between coughs and bites of pizza, that yes, I've met most of my goals. That's why you don't let others make your resolutions for you. A few years ago, I could hear Jen "Quit smoking. Go on a diet. Get some exercise for God's sake!" I would wonder "How fun would that be?" (Actually, I'm taking literary license here because Jen has never nagged me about smoking or my weight, to her everlasting credit. As it turned out, nagging wasn't needed! Hear that wives?) That's why I'm being proactive with resolutions on the 28th. If I wait and let Jen set the agenda, then there won't be any gimmes.

Of course, there are people out there who come up with some pretty lame resolutions to give the impression that there isn't much improvement needed, thank-you! Some like: "I resolve to wear each pair of underwear on its proscribed day. I like Friday's pair best and sometimes I just have to wear them on Wednesday! (Yeah, yeah, yellow in front and brown in back and shut up!) or ... "Even though I love its taste best, this year I'll switch from 'Crest with Watermelon' to 'Tartar Control Crest'!" (Keep smoking that meth, bozo, and you won't have to worry about tooth past anyway!) How about... "This year I'm going to support 3 poor kids in the Philipines instead of only one." (How about the 6 you fathered while you were there in the Navy?) Yeah, New Year's resolutions are a way for the self-righteous to shove their goody-goody persona in your face.

I don't do that! (Yeah, right!) My resolutions this year will have some meat on them. It won't be like a 400 pound, 50 year-old witch making a celibacy pledge or the doofus in a condo vowing to trade in his riding mower on a push one. No, mine will be meaningful, relevant and honest self-improvement. So, without further adieu, here's my 2010 New Year's resolutions:

1. I will treat Republicans like they treat President Obama.
2. I will change my public farting policy that allow farts that can't be heard to only farts that can't be smelled.
3. When someone starts on me about anything political, I'll smile and say "I'm proud to be an American!"
4. When someone starts on me about religion, I'll smile and say "... and may God bless you and God bless the United States of America!"
5. Candy, cookies and chips are the Devil's handiwork! Treat them that way and avoid them entirely!
6. Try to cut down on portion sizes. I eat entirely too much. If I didn't exercise, lord knows where I'd be.
7. When people say that global warming is caused by cow farts, say my usual "Bullshit" UNDER my breath.
8. Vow to close all the kitchen cupboard doors before I leave the kitchen. If that means quitting doing the dishes, well sometimes you have to take one for the team.
9. When my favorite sports team does the big choke, whine about it private, alone. Text whining is OK as long as the textee is probably whining too. and...
10, I'll try to quit making all those high crime and mob references about New Jersey. But Fuzzy, if New Jersey is the Garden State, what are they growing in Camden and Newark?

Ah, I feel like a better man already and I've still got 3 days of debauchery before these resolutions kick in!

If you are what you wear then I'm screwed!

2009-10-30T15:25:00.003-04:00

I know that I've promised Jenny not to dwell on "weighty" issues in my blog for awhile. Frankly, I can be a bit tedious in my enthusiasm for the healthier lifestyle. This blog entry sorta skirts on the subject. Most women will say it does while most guys will say it doesn't. I could dance around the subject for awhile but my new endeavor to be precise and to the point won't allow me to.

My problem is that I have a very limited wardrobe. Now, if I want the real baggy look, I'm set. Most of my shirts that fit me are hand-me-downs from Jenny. Most of them are GHS shirts from the band or football. The brand named ones that I have bought fit OK. The one's that aren't have shrunk enough to be a little snug. I only have one button-up shirt but that's no big whup. I rarely wore them when I had a bunch. Same goes for Dockers. As for jeans, I have one pair that's my current size and two pairs one size up. That too is OK. As you can tell, I can start crafting a wardrobe that matches my persona. My dilemma is that there is so many different lifestyles of men's clothing that I don't really know which one to adapt as my own. You see, I have a unique opportunity to basically start from scratch with my wardrobe so that allows me to go with whatever style I desire. The problem is: Which one? After I started to think about it, I came up with a number of them. Since I am usually incapable of making a timely decision and this one would be made before Christmas, I guess I'll try to come up with as many as I can and let you, the blogosphere help me decide. (Its all a part of my latest self-help project: Let others make the hard decisions and I'll never make a wrong one!) I'm sure I missed a lot of different styles you may think of. Actually, I didn't. I just deemed them as being beneath my status as a renowned blogger! After all, there's no way you could picture me as an intercity youth, wearing FUBU shorts hanging to my knees with a white 4X t-shirt and a hat on with the bill to the side. Or, for that matter, who could picture me in geezer polyester with a white belt and cream colored shoes with Velcro straps. Hard to see me as a hunter with blaze orange clothes that smell like deer piss scent. How about "fisherman chic" with a boonie cap full of lures, a khaki safari vest and jeans covered with dried scales. Not very likely!

The first style I considered is "biker chic". There, you dress up in skin tight black leather with a lot of studs, a wallet with a chain and do rags. To fit this lifestyle, I'll have to grow a long beard and longer hair. I'll have to wear a leather vest without a t-shirt and get some serious tattooing done. There's a fine line between "biker chic" and the "flamboyant gay" style. The latter includes a leather motorcycle hat, a five o'clock shadow and manicured nails. Gotta watch yourself with these fashion genres. Now, I've got a brown leather barn coat I got years ago by sending in thousands of UPC bar codes from Merit cigarettes. It doesn't count here because no self-respecting biker or gay would be caught dead in it!

Next is "European playboy". I saw this alot when I spent two years in Germany in the Army. I'm aware that that was 35 years ago. Well, I haven't seen any renaissance in European styles in the meantime, if you know what I mean. This style could also be labelled as "mid 70's disco". The differences are minor. First, you start off with hip hugger pants without a belt (or loops for that matter). The European style will NOT have back pockets while disco does. The shirts are silk (or rayon for the cheapskates) and are unbuttoned for enough to show hair. Berlin's gay scene is filled with guys with no chest hair, yet still fulfill this requirement if you know what I mean. If you dress in this fashion genre, you have to listen to techno-rock and dance the "robot", eat food that normal people step on and hold your cigarette (whether you smoke it or not) between your fore finger and thumb with the back of your hand away from your face. You will wear light brown shoes without socks.

The next category will never be confused with the last one. This one is "square dancer". It consists of tight straight leg jeans, rolled up one turn and ironed with a lot of starch. The shirts are usually patterned like gingham, with a white yoke over the shoulders. It'll have pearled snaps instead of buttons. The black shoes will have a high gloss shine. (Gays will go with Paten leather.) and the ten gallon hat they wear will be white. Invariably, they'll be wearing a string tie but don't rule out a bandanna or a big bow tie. The "uptown" square dancer will have tight white leather gloves with no backs. Gays and gaudy types will wear matching white buckskin vests and chaps. They'll all look like "Smiling Bob" in those Ensyte commercials.

Similar to the last one, but not as gaudy is the "Marlboro Man" style. This one has a worn cowboy hat, regular jeans, a flannel shirt and cowboy boots. He'll have a five o'clock shadow, be chewing on a toothpick with a denim waist jacket. Gays in this genre will have the front and back bills on their hats bent down. Their 5 o'clock shadow will be trimmed and their cowboy boots will be made from armadillos and their toothpicks will be 24k gold.

One style where a gay guy wouldn't be caught in is the "grungy punk teenager" or GPT for short. The GPT will have pants that sag a good six inches down his rear. Because of that, he'll walk on the pant legs, tearing the bottoms up pretty good. The shoes are usually untied Skecher skateboard shoes and the shirt was the one he wore yesterday (and the day before). His face usually has more zits than a wrestler's ass and if his hair came in contact with a comb lately, it was purely coincidental. Usually his trousers, either denim or khaki, are able to stand in the corner on their own and the top three inches of his boxers will be faded from the sun. Wannabes in this fashion genre can be identified by their tighty whities, belt and unpicked noses.

Next up is the business professional. Even though its his day off, he'll wear a sport's coat with either a polo shirt or a dress shirt with no tie. He'll wear either Dockers or starched and ironed jeans with either tasseled or penny loafers. I think that if their shoes get scuffed, they throw them away. Their hair will be razor cut with a straight part.

Similar to the last one is the country club type. The only difference is his blazer will have his family crest on the pocket, he'll be wearing Hush Puppy deck shoes and if he's not wearing a jacket, he'll have on a cream colored sweater with his family crest. Slim clubbers will wear the sweater over their shoulders with the arms tied loosely around the neck. The bigger boned ones will wear their sweaters the normal way. They usually wear their glasses on the top of their heads. They would rather be blind than appear in public with their glasses over their eyes! The only difference between gays and straights in this genre besides the sex of their gold digger, would be the gay's tendency to wear silk scarves with their blue blazers.

The next two have similar names but are a little different. The first is "redneck chic". He wears either a white "wife beater" shirt or a sleeveless t-shirt to show off his "guns", barbed wire tattoos and all. His jeans will be Rustlers (the Wal-Mart brand) worn plumber style and his footwear will be clodhoppers. His hair style will include a flat top. He'll either have his head skinned on the sides and back or have a mullet. The mullet usually has short sides, but long sides are popular too. The rule of thumb on the sides is the closer you are related to your wife, the shorter your sides. Most of their tattoos were done by a friend instead of a tattoo parlor. Therefore, most of them are misspelled. Popular in the last five years is having GIT R tattooed on the knuckles of the right hand and DONE on the left. His gum line usually has more gaps than his resume and the only people who are worse at Jeopardy are his kids. The other similar style is "lazy redneck" or LR's. The LR's differentiate themselves from the other rednecks by the fact that they are too lazy to change their clothes so they invariably just wear the same holey sweat pants with an unmatching inside out sweatshirt with the sleeves either cut short or off completely. Their tennies don't have shoe strings and their hair is usually long and greasy. If their hat gets wet, it'll usually disintegrate!

The "college professor" types wear corduroy jackets with leather elbow patches and corduroy slacks. They usually wear their granny glasses at the end of their nose and wear houndstooth patterned hats. Their favorite shirts are turtlenecks and also like sweaters quite a bit. Like the LR's, they tend to wear the same clothes much of the time, thus saving a ton of money on extra outfits.

Now, this is just a partial listing of the available options I'd have. I haven't even mentioned nudism. Come winter, this option gives a whole new meaning to the term "blue balls"!

This decision is just too hard to make. I guess the only way that makes sense is to wait and see what style I get for Christmas and make that the style I adopt. My luck, Shane will get me a couple "wife beaters" and some clodhoppers! (At least, now a day's, Git 'R Done doesn't concern Shannon and Jenny like it used to!)

"I'll tell you how I am... COLD!!"

2009-09-30T00:47:00.002-04:00

In the old days, I never got cold til Christmas. Below zero weather and I'm wearing a t-shirt and no long johns. I couldn't understand why Jenny needed the thermostat any higher than 65 degrees and would chuckle at the thermo-nuclear setting she put the electric blanket on. Yeah, those were the good ol' days. Tolerance to the cold is the fat guy's advantage. You can scoff at the skinflints who are whining about the cold. There's a reason why you rarely see skinny people in those Polar Bear Club swims on New Year's Day. Fat guys stay warm the same way walruses stay warm: Fat repels the cold!

I realized that fact just a little too late. Today, in Chicago, I went out for my walk around the airport with my t-shirt and gym trunks, an extra long sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants and a sweatshirt. It was 48 degrees with a 40 mph wind. Despite all those clothes and the heat my body produced by walking at a good pace, I froze! WTF! I never got cold in September before! I didn't even know it was possible. I used to sweat like a pig when I shoveled snow in below zero weather. Today, I couldn't pop a bead of sweat if I ran a mile, on my hands! I'm sitting here in the hotel with the heater on max (75 degrees is the highest it will go) and I'm freezing. They don't tell you this at the Weight Watcher meetings. "Go ahead and lose that gut, bozo, and next winter, your shivering alone will keep you thin!" In the dictionary, under shivering, you won't see William Howard Taft's picture! Abe Lincoln's maybe, but not Billy Boy's!

So here I am wondering what the heck to do. I got an arctic lined Carharrt jacket that fits me nicely (thanks Jen!) and some jackets I haven't worn in 10 years. They fit nicely but the styling is a bit outdated. I've got a ton of sweatshirts that are a tad too big. No problem, I like 'em loose. Sweaters? Maybe now they won't look like a second skin on me. I like sweaters, but until now, they didn't like me!

For the last month, I've been bringing a sweatshirt with me in my bag to wear when the engineer turns on the air conditioner. One day last week, I even turned on the side heater when he turned on the A.C. I used to think we needed central air in our house. Not anymore. I only turned the window A.C. on four times this summer. That $5000 would be much better spent if I bought something nice for the kids. (Just checking to see if they still read this!) If we ever sell the place, I'll have the realtor target market skinny people. They won't even ask about central air or the lack of it!

Used to be when some skinny person would whine about the cold, I would think "Suck it up, Slats. Its only zero!" Now, I'll be a little more tolerant in my thoughts. No more will I turn down the thermostat to 69. I used to think "Geez, put on a sweater!". Let Lucy out on the back porch? Heck no, Its cold out there! One line I'd use when someone would crank up the heat way high was "Geez, grow an immune system!" As the one with the skinny little finger on the heat button, I'll be more tolerant. I still can't figure out why my Aunt Frieda kept her home at 85 degrees in the winter. They weren't skinnies. Must've got too cold during the depression. Might've gotten scared by an evil snowman or something.

Last winter, I never wore long johns. This winter I'll probably double up on them. I better get the snow blower fixed. I'm not friends with the cold anymore. I better start saving the big bucks because I see winters in Florida in my future! Hurricanes? Bring 'em on! Wild fires? Try me! Living with Southerners? Make that a double order of grits! But shivering in September? Pack up the Edge, sweetie!!

Now some of you may think that I'm exaggerating just a tad. Those who have read this blog for the last year and a half know that I never exaggerate! I'm as serious as a holy roller preacher on Sunday. I'm as serious as Oprah at the buffet or Sarah Palin at the turkey farm! Now, some of you may think that I'm doing all this whining just to get some cuddle time with Jenny. I'm not as warm as I used to be so she won't be as interested. I used to be a veritable furnace and even in July, her feet were icicles!

On cold winter mornings, I used to come downstairs and Jen would be just standing there. So would Shannon and (our dog) Cheaney. I finally asked what was up and learned that they were standing on warm spots where the heating pipes went through the cement floor. I used to shake my head (and both chins) and chuckle at their foolishness. Now, I'm looking for a floor heat map!!

Now I'm on a train heading for home and my engineer has his window open so I'll sorta walk over to the heater switches and voila... thermonuclear heat!!!

In an unrelated matter, I spent a great Sunday with Jen. First, we went to Indy and had lunch with Shane-0, celebrating his birthday and finished the day visiting Taylor and Jaden (and their folks). It doesn't get any better than that. I mention this (besides the enormous pride I have in my family) as an intro to disclosing an amazing fact. Its still less than 3 weeks after little Taylor was born and Shannon is within ten pounds of her pre-Taylor weight! Way to go, honey bun! You are an amazing person! You know what she said to me? "Starting to look more like my dad!"

Hell, just move to Florida!

2009-09-01T17:12:00.002-04:00

I'm reading a book that Shane got me for my birthday that's titled "The Know-It-All". Its a true story about a guy who read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica. Its funny and quite interesting. Like the lady who wrote "Julie and Julia" about her quest to cook every recipe in Julia Child's cookbook, this author wrote a best seller about his endeavor. Each of these authors blogged about their efforts, which paved the way for their bestselling books. Why am I, a reasonably normal middle aged guy bringing this up? You are getting a hint at what retirement may have in store for me!

You see, I work on the railroad. Doing so, I am always at work. (As a matter of fact, I just got called to go to Chicago a minute ago!) They are constantly calling me to go to work, not allowing me off work for any reason short of death (Even though there are eight dead guys still on the seniority roster!) and stamping out any continuity I may have in pursuing a hobby. Like many railroaders, I'm approaching retirement without any hobbies or interests that would keep me busy in a fulfilling way. I like golf. That might occupy me somewhat in the summers. I'm not rich enough to spend my winters in golf-friendly locales so other ideas have to be brought forth.

I brought these two books up because they gave me a wonderful idea! How about (when I retire) I initiate a similar project, blogging about my experiences as I go and culminate my experience by writing a best selling book and screen play. That would pile up an enormous bank account so I can afford to play golf all winter in Florida! That muffled thumping you hear is your's truly patting myself on the back for having such a great idea. Sheer genius if you ask me. There's only one little snag in my great plan. What do I do?

If my quest is too easy, people won't be interested enough to read the blog, buy the book or watch the movie. If I set my sights too high, I risk failure and that would seriously hamper any book or movie deals. So, what do I do? What can I, a humble flat guy of so-so intelligence (Normal for Indiana, the second coming of Edison for New Jersey!) and average get-up-and-go (My lawn may need mowed but not baled!) do to capture the imagination of America, no, the world!

First off, reading and cooking are out. Already done. Besides, what's there to read? The books on Wall Street business ethics or American Congressional Role Models are only 3 words long (You're kidding, right?") Books that interest me would be boring to blogdom. That's why I haven't followed Shannon's example and done book reports in my blog. "The History of Fart References in American Literature" and "Was Godzilla a Transsexual?" aren't books that would rivet America's attention in a blog. As for cooking, no way! I need to find pursuits OUTSIDE the kitchen, if you know what I'm talking about. I could cook an entire French cookbook but how many snails can a man eat, anyway?

That leaves a wide open field for my consideration. One thought I had was building a model train layout of the entire route from Chicago to Garrett. I could blog about all the exciting things I experience. The research that I would have to do before I begin would be extreme. Is the tree that blocks the signal at the Elkhart River a maple or an oak? Is the switch on the west end of the runaround at Alida on #1 or #2 track? Can I buy toy people that look as dumb as the real people of East Chicago or do I need to make them myself? In a similar vein, I've thought about building a garden train layout. That would be G-scale, which is the size of my Christmas tree train. We saw one a number of years ago when we were on vacation in Canada and it was really neat. I'd have to get an advance on my book deal though. Those G-scale trains aren't cheap!

Another idea that I've had was to make a pottery map of the U.S. by making separate clay maps of each state, which will fit into a large map of the U.S. I could dress up in the native dress of each state while I roll out the clay and cut out the map. For instance, while doing New Jersey I could be wearing a black suit and black porkpie hat with a white hatband, belt and shoes. I would glue my nose to the side of my face so it would look broken. While I did West Virginia, I could go barefoot with a t-shirt on that said "Are you my pa?" It would be pretty hard to stereotype the people of all 50 states but I've always been up to the challenge. Besides, I could sell them to schools for a mint! A triple revenue stream. I like that.

The latest fad for movie stars is writing children's books. I could do that too. How about a book about a near-sighted anteater who snorts some fire ants by mistake and the hi-jinks that result. Problem is, how do you write a book about writing a book? Being a children's book, I'd have it done in one day. Not alot of blog fodder there either.

I could do something crafty. I could make a model of the Empire State Building out of sugar cubes or the Golden Gate bridge out of Popsicle sticks and dental floss. This could be the way to go except for the fact that I have zero artistic talent. Jenny or Shannon could produce a credible copy of the Mona Lisa with the burnt end of a stick and a used Kleenex but not me. I could take a wheelbarrow full of rocks and make a, well, pile of rocks?

Seriously, one idea that I've been toying with is doing the family tree of my and Jenny's families. I could regale everyone with blog entries about all the colorful and famous people that I come across. Problem is, unlike every other family tree you've ever heard of, mine doesn't include famous, historical people. No, Napoleon isn't one of my ancestors. More likely would be his Polish chicken plucker. Besides, Alex Haley already did this. Geez, I got another great idea just a tad too late.

One idea that I've been mulling over is to try writing a volume of poetry. Regular readers of this blog are well aware of my poetic talent. All my poems rhyme, not like some of those fancy poets. Some of those bozos ought to have their poetic licenses revoked! Just because young ladies from Nantucket have prominent roles in a lot of my poetry doesn't mean the poems aren't classics. I could do a blog of poems and every year or so slap together an anthology. That ought to keep me busy in retirement. I could try my hand at painting pictures. My crap couldn't look less artistic than Picasso's. And, I'd charge a whole lot less!

Yes, I definitely need to find my retirement niche. I am open for suggestions. Just don't include anything too strenuous. After all, one definition of retire is "to go to bed" and that's exactly what I have in mind!

A week I won't soon forget!

2009-08-21T15:31:00.004-04:00

Today is my birthday and this week I proudly broke the 100 pound level and have lost a total of 102.2 pounds since October 15th of last year. Add to that the fact that Jen and I spent a fun but exhausting day in Indy helping Shane move to Greenwood and note that I got a new (used) Ford F-150 pick-up...

and Jen got a new (used)Ford Edge.

Also and most importantly, my lovely daughter Shannon is due to have a baby at any time. As you can see, my life has been full, exciting and richly rewarding lately. I have a beautiful wife I adore, two kids I think the world of, the cutest granddaughter in the world, a great son-in-law and a marvelous family that I love.

As you have read the last paragraph, I'm sure some of you think that here is some rich fodder for the fat guy to talk about. Well, hold on there Skippy!

First off, let me dispel some notions about fat guys that you may have. They aren't always jolly. Its easier to laugh off someone's crass and thoughtless crack about your weight than to cry about your shattered feelings. Last October, my weight put me on the chart right in the middle of the extremely obese column. In the last 10 months, I've left that category, completely navigated through the obese category and have gone through most of the overweight category. Getting to the normal category means the world to me. You see, I've reached a position where I am experiencing the kindness of so many people. So many people have said so many nice things to me during the last ten months that I will still be walking on air for years to come. The people who saw fit to ridicule me for my weight have since been silenced. The hurt hasn't been forgotten, only soothed.

As I said, Jen and I went down to Indy to help Shane-o move to Greenwood (a suburb south of I465). It is a nice little apartment that knocks off 50 minutes from his commute to work, each way! Is he smart, or what? Whenever I help Shane move, I meet his friend, Big Mike. Like Jaden, he has red curly hair. Unlike Jaden, he has a beard and stands seven feet tall! Without him helping, me and Shane would've broke down like a pony with a 400 pound jockey! Shane has some really heavy stuff and his apartment is on the 3rd floor. My new truck got a workout, pulling a trailer, loaded down and performed like a champ. The notable part of that long day was the fact that I drove both ways. After 28 years, I've finally been able to figure out how to drive in a way that makes it easy for Jen to be a passenger. Aggressive driving makes her extremely nervous and I have converted my style to a less aggressive, more easy going technique that has us both smiling. Still another facet of the "Max Teders Self-Improvement Program".

Last Tuesday morning, Jen and Jaden went with me to the Weight Watchers meeting. Breaking the 100 pound mark is sorta rare and they are extremely supporting for any and all accomplishments. When Amy, who was running the meeting, talked of my accomplishment, she even teared up. When she went to get my 100 pound pin she said "Let me get the box" and Jaden added excitedly "Box?". In a touching presentation, Jaden (in her very cute green polka dotted dress) gave me my 100 lb. pin to the smiles of everyone there. I'm not done yet, still got 20 more pounds to lose, but I know that the light at the end of the tunnel is not an approaching train!

Little Taylor Maxine McClure will soon be making her appearance on the great stage of life. I've been praying for her and Shannon's good health and can't wait to see her first hand print tile! I'm sure that Jaden will be a great big-sister, just like her mom was.

Finally, I would like to comment on how impressed I am with how Jen's family has embraced a healthier lifestyle. Jen and her dad have both reached their goal weights and are looking great. Her mom is working hard with her exercises and her brother Jeff is really looking good! Add to that how her sister Cindy and Jeff's wife Jane are working hard on their diets and how good Chad and Lisa Davis are looking with their walking. Somehow, Jen's family has gotten the word (and thankfully brought me along for the ride!). They are doing the hard work that needs to be done to return themselves to a healthy way of life. All I can say is "Way to go!" and "Keep it up!" How I would love to help bring this healthy lifestyle to my family. As a family activity, Jen's family has shown that it works and its much easier when you are not doing it alone.

Last, but not least, is a note to Shannon. Even though its getting a bit late, if today is the day, I would love to change the name of MAXMAS day to T-MAXMAS day!

"Oh this? I'm going hunting after work...

2009-07-22T03:07:00.002-04:00

As is my practice, when it rains, it pours! I go a long time with nothing, then BAM! two posts. (I'm becoming the Emeril of blogdom) This post has none of the sentimentality and richness of the last post. Whereas the last post was a soothing ballad, this is a "Larry the Cable Guy" fart. How do I know this before writing anything? Well, my mind fills up with ideas much like a septic system fills up. After a while, it'll need emptied. With much of the same contents!

To those of you who know me well, know that I have been wearing overalls to work for over 25 years. It started as a way to keep all my jeans from getting indelible grease spots and fusee burns and became a way for a fat guy to be comfortable without having to wear a belt. I only wore striped ones when dad gave his to me when he retired. Otherwise, it was always blue denim. They're not cheap, costing between $25 and $50. Wal-Mart sells them for around $30 but the size I wore was bigger than the largest size they carry. I mention this because I have decided to quit wearing overalls to work for awhile. I'm wearing carpenter-type work jeans instead. The reasoning is simple. I have seven pairs of overalls at home that are too big on me. They range from 58X30 to 44X30. I've decided that until my weight has stabilized where I want it, I'll stick to the $15 jeans instead of the $45 overalls. How will I carry all the crap I'm required to without the extra pockets of overalls?

Simple, I bought one of those high-visibility vests at Wal-Mart for $8. Jeez, the way some of my co-workers reacted, you'ld think I slapped their kids or something! You see, there is one railroad, the Canadian National, that requires their train employees to wear these HI-VIZ vests. Employees of the other major roads are waiting for when they'll have to wear them also. The employees of Chicken-Shit-Xpress is no different. They think that if only one bozo (yours truly) voluntarily wore an orange vest, then everyone would be required to wear one tomorrow! Some even thought that the order was out to wear them already. Their questions (and the answers I SHOULD have give) ranged from "What are you wearing that #W$%^& thing for?" (It was on the top of the pile.) "Where did you get that?" (The vest fairy put it under my pillow.) and "I suppose we'll all have to wear that!" (Not you. You're too fat to fit in my vest!) Usually, after their initial stupid question, then a pleasant conversation about my reasoning ensued. I told them I chose HI-VIZ orange because the railroad used HI-VIZ yellow. I would've preferred a khaki vest but they are way too expensive for a poor conductor to afford. I usually say that I was looking for a pink vest because of breast cancer awareness because nobody is more aware of breasts than me! Also, I can wear my orange vest when I go mushroom hunting and maybe I won't get shot by a hunter who mistook me for a big, big bunny. Probably not. Hunters wear orange-camo clothes. How stupid is that? Stand by an orange bush and a deer will never notice you!

At work, alot of people lately tell me they didn't recognize me. (My plan is to diet myself into anonymity!) I usually say "Oh." to get them to explain. You see, I want to know if it has to do with my recent weight loss or the fact that they have never seen me before with regular clothes on. It usually turns out that they didn't recognize me with my eyes open!

HELLO! My name is: max

2009-07-22T02:15:00.002-04:00

Note: I wrote this on June 25th and never got around to posting it. I'm posting it now because: A) This is the first time I've opened my journal in a month. B) I like it, and C) Becky, who goes by Rebecca, has become my Facebook friend. I may be Mr. Procrastination, but I am firmly rooted in the belief of fate and coincidences. As an aside to an avid fan, "Sorry Fuzzy. No meat here!"

Usually when I blog about a particular subject, I tell a small story about something I saw or something that happened to me and segue into whatever I'm ranting about that day. A little while ago I wrote an entry in my journal about how patience has evolved out of the American culture and it ended up as a rant about the greedy and corrupt Republicans. I had been trying to write that story for months but I couldn't come up with an opening story that linked me with impatience. It seems that I am the epitome of patient understanding. I finally made up a story but a blog entry based on a falsehood is doomed to fail. Yeah, I could've entered it and you all would've nodded and said "You tell 'em fat boy!" when you finished it.

Like most people, my attention span collapsed like that bridge in Minneapolis. My engineer mentioned that one of my old buddies lives down the road from him up by Waterloo. I thought all my friends had more class than to live near Waterloo but one must've slipped through the cracks. The guy he was talking about is Tom Thrush. I haven't seen Tom in years. Tom's wife, Becky was also one of my classmates and when I think of Becky I think of "class" and "style", two words that have never come up when you Google Tom's name. The reason that I'm mentioning Tom and giving him his 15 seconds of blog fame is that, as I get older, I am more interested in what happened to the people I knew when I was younger. The last time I saw Tom, for instance, was in the barbershop about 10 years ago. Him and Becky never go to class reunions and even Stan Pence probably doesn't have their e-mail addresses. The great thing about blogs and Facebook pages is you see how life has treated those you knew years ago. You have a chance to see pictures of their families, learn what matters. I'd like to learn more about those who populated my youth. My daughter, Shannon, has created the web page for the Garrett High School Alumnae Association and they have a feature where you can update where your life has taken you and tell what you are doing. You can include pictures too. Jenny has updated hers. Not one person in my class has done it.

Think of the stigma it would cast on everyone else if I were the first person in the Class of '71 to enter personal information. Me. Mr. Procrastination. The shame they would feel would be palpable. I'll try not to cause them any distress. Every class reunion brings someone you haven't seen in ages that is a pleasant surprise. Eight years ago it was Pam Cutler and the last one was Marston Greenawalt. Not having seen Marston in 30 years, I had to get his name off his name tag. Like all of us, he wasn't remarkable, just interesting. You look at me and you see someone you knew a long time ago. No big whoop, you say. But take a look at a picture of my wife, kids and their families and you see the pride of my life. You know that I work on the railroad and you think that I've probably coasted through life but look at my family and you see a life that has been lived with a purpose, with meaning, with pride.

I would like to see that of my classmates. Maybe by the next reunion, we could come up with a collection of family pictures, with everyone labelled and identified. It would bring a new dimension to those 12 years we spent together nearly 40 years ago.

The cat ate my journal!!

2009-06-11T02:07:00.003-04:00

While I was relaxing in the motel in Chicago the other night before I went to bed, I was watching a self-help program on PBS. The guy was telling us how we can become the perfect person. How we could go through life, accomplishing everything, forgetting or postponing nothing and being hyper-successful. He listed the sixteen excuses people make and gave counter arguments to each excuse. He was trying to create a world with... (gasp)... no excuses!

Sounds Communistic to me! No excuses? That's anti-American. Our whole culture is based on excuses! "Don't blame Joey. His great-aunt was a bed-wetter!" or "Little Amanda isn't at fault. She lived next door to a hillbilly as a child!" Our Constitution promises me "Life, liberty and the pursuit of excuses!"

If I didn't have excuses, my quality of life would be seriously impaired. Clean out the garage, sorting out and pricing all the garage sale stuff? Yes, dear. Repaint the whole upstairs pink and orange? Right away, sweetheart! Get gas for the grill, check the attic for birds, redo the Star Wars room... and no excuses? Oh, my aching back. Wait, was that an excuse? If you could see the journal I'm writing in, you would see tear marks.

I realize that I'm in my pre-retirement self-improvement phase and boy-o-boy was there room for improvement. I can honestly say that I've made some serious strides towards improving myself in many ways. I am extremely happy with my life and envision that by the time I retire, all my health issues will be "healthy lifestyled" into oblivion. I am more active and less sedentary. The last time I checked my e-mail, I had messages backed up for over a week. I haven't written in my blog for almost a month and last week I didn't even have time to weigh in at Weight Watchers. Every time I went to the Y to work out, I got called by the railroad before I got home. The railroad seems to have laid off all but a couple of guys and are working us to death. I've been getting all the important things done like mowing the lawn, taking out the garbage, giving Jenny a pedicure and polishing her wine glasses with $100 bills. I know that there's obvious room for improvement but all at once? If I transform myself into the perfect man this year, what's there to accomplish next year?

Also, women like flawed men. I'm sure that Jenny would hate a world without an occasional belch or fart. I'm not talking about cranking out colon bombs that would make a buzzard barf but an occasional puffer or two. And I didn't mean I would burp the Star Spangled Banner in pig-latin but just a slip now and then. You see, having a couple character flaws can prove beneficial to one's spouse. Jenny doesn't have to ask me what I had for lunch. She just has to look on my shirt. Now I admit to being flawed. I'm not perfect. Yeah, I may be far from ideal, but I'm far from the other end of the spectrum also.

I know people who consider washing their work jacket or brushing their teeth to be spring cleaning chores. Or those who think parking an old car or dead lawn mower in the yard qualifies as landscaping. They're the ones with pet hair in their potluck dishes. They wear tight wife-beater shirts to formal parties and put out cigarettes in the ice bucket. They have an "If the truck's a rockin', don't come a knockin'" sticker on the pick-up with a window sticker of a brat kid peeing on something.

Yeah, I'm not perfect, yet. There's some room for improvement. I'm working on it. I won't have to get the "Get 'er Done" tattoo or the 4X t-shirts. I look forward to a nice long walk or a workout at the Y. My house won't make "Architectural Digest", but it won't make "New Jersey Living" either.

So, as for Dr. Wayne Dwyer, the flack on PBS the other night, who thought I should be perfect and shouldn't have any excuses, if he doesn't like what he sees, he can call my emergency complaint line and complain. The number is 1-800-EAT CRAP.

It was Clem, from Gary!

2009-05-14T19:10:00.004-04:00

The yearly monsoon season has arrived in full force to the Fort Wayne area. Soon the flood stage of the local rivers will lead off all the newscasts. The TV stations will have cute shots of baby ducks swimming in a ditch somewhere and the newest reporters will be interviewing people who have been flooded out for the tenth straight year. The city of Fort Wayne is probably scouting out locations to dump the sand that will be used to fill the sandbags.

This year, flooding concerns me more than it usually does. Look at the horrendous weather that accompanied the Great Depression. Mother Nature is famous for kicking people when they're down. That's why tornadoes usually hit trailer parks. Dump on the people without a pot to piss in!

Also, I saw something that shook me to my core. Coming home from Chicago the other day I saw two deer standing together! Then I saw two raccoons standing along side the road when I was driving to Fort Wayne. Also, on my walk last night, I saw two pigeons who seemed to be together and everyone who walked by me in the other direction were paired up! Are you getting my point? The first time I see a geezer with a long gray beard pulling a boat behind his truck, I'll be freaking out.

If a latter day Noah shows up, what's next? Locusts? Sodom and Auburn? Wandering in the mall for sixty days and sixty nights?

If you ask me, anytime you get a flooding rain, its triggered by a seemingly unrelated event. Some people will probably blame me for it. Ever since I planted grass seed on a couple places where we had trees cut down, its rained and rained. I doubt that the almighty is sending all this rain because he enjoys watching grass seed wash away. My money is on some devil worshipping farmer who's trying to plant his fields. Isn't it always the farmers who are screwing us over?

As we go through Gary, Indiana, on the train, the sun is shining without a cloud in the sky. I can put away the rain gear that kept me dry during the deluge at Garrett. If getting puked on by Mother Nature is dependent on how just the local people are then Gary ought to be experiencing a plague of rabid saber-tooth tigers or such! Of course, with my mental acuity, I've figured out why Gary is being spared. The only thing they grow up here is pot and all those "farmers" are in jail. You'll have to wait until the next batch graduates from Purdue before fire, brimstone and rain will fall on Gary.

Personally, I think this bad weather for bad behavior is all a load of crap. The wife gets just as affected by the tornado as the wife-beater. Whenever you see people interviewed after a major disaster, the women seem tragically sweet and vulnerable. They don't have horns and breathe fire. All of those women taught me in elementary school!!

Now, I don't want anyone (Shannon) to think that I'm complaining about the weather. I see rainstorms as God's way of getting that slob next door a second bath this week. My only plea is "Enough already! He's clean!"

Halvey Birthday Jen!!!

2009-05-14T19:00:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was Jenny's birthday. For those who are unaware, Jenny is my lovely wife. You may know her as Gramma J or Shannon and Shane's mom or Mrs. Bisque-It. She celebrated her 21st birthday, again, for the umpteenth time. Anyone who knows her or me knows that she is, absolutely and unequivocally the best thing that ever happened to me. So, once again, with sincerity and love I say "Happy Birthday, Sweetie!!"

The only bummer about Jen's birthday is its close proximity to Mother's Day. People have a tendency to give one gift for both occasions and the birthday celebrant gets shorted. The only fair thing to do, and Jenny is the definition of fairness, would be to celebrate her 1/2 birthdays, complete with cake and ice cream, party hats and maybe a clown. Then November 13th would be an official Teders holiday. If I remember (Highly Unlikely) then we'll do it up right in November. I'm sure that Grandma Pat is more willing to share her birthday month than Shane is.

"It's beginning to look alot like..."

2009-05-01T22:19:00.008-04:00

In a previous entry, I talked about taking the snow shovels and ice chipper out to the garage. Of course, when someone does such a brave thing, he opens himself up to a snow storm. As you can see, I'm done the tough work. Now this may seem a little ridiculous but as soon as I took these back to the garage, the temperature dropped 15 degrees! If it snows, I'll blog the snowman I make.

Also, on the same entry, I talk about how much nicer the lawn looked when I mowed with a Lawn Boy push mower. Being a hard charger, I started mowing the yard with the Lawn Boy today and on the second pass over the yard the handle broke in two. I must have put too much stress on it with my no-holds-barred mowing style. Luckily I have a back-up push mower.

Little Jaden is staying at our house tonight. Shannon and Mike don't necessarily have any special plans for tonight. They are just thoughtful enough to realize that Gramma and Grampa sometimes need a little more Jaden in our lives. Here she is, trying to put on a pretty necklace she found in her kitchen cupboard.

... and here she is after she got it on. What a cutie!

Her and Gramma J always have a lot of fun when they're together. Here Jaden is having fun jumping on Gramma.

Yeah, Miss J is such a blast to have around. Makes me anxious as all get out for when Little Taylor arrives. Having two little girls in the house? Simply heaven.

"Hail of a nice hotel!"

2009-04-27T22:25:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting here at the motel in Chicago, waiting for them to call me for a train back to Garrett. Luckily, I got my walk in earlier, because now its raining like a cow pissin' on a flat rock. Since the motel's TV is hooked up to a dish, all the cable channels went off. Now I'm relegated to watching the Antique Roadshow on PBS. Jenny probably wonders how I can watch it since no one is dancing, singing, fighting for immunity or running for an airport! You see, as the television watching options shrink, my blogging creativity increases. Exciting TV and I have writer's block. Crappy TV and suddenly I'm Mark Twain!

Earlier tonight, I survived a tornado warning IN MY MOTEL ROOM! It was while I was showering. I had all this cold air coming from the air conditioner (I had it set on "large cubes") and the steam was streaming from my long and luxurious shower. As you all know, tornadoes are formed when cold fronts (AC) collide with warm fronts (shower steam). These two fronts met over the bed. I put up with it hoping for hail because I needed ice for my cooler. Needless to say, my calculations were a bit off and I didn't get any hail or tornadoes. Maybe that's for the best.

I have to admit to a fact of life that men of all walks of life hate to admit. This pains me because some guys will see me as a traitor for admitting it. My only excuse is my internal pursuit of truth and integrity. The fact is lawns that are push mowed look much better than lawns that are rider mowed. I have a Lawn Boy push mower that I got tuned up this spring. Its not even self-propelled but is a nice little mower. I felt that the Lord knows I could use the exercise, so I have been push mowing my yard. Its a pretty good sized lawn, so it takes me awhile. It also works out my arms and shoulders. While I was mowing last week, my neighbor came over, asked if my rider was busted and offered his rider if I needed it. I told him that my rider was okay, but I was just walking because I needed the exercise. He looked at me like I was yodelling nude. But as I was saying and it pains me to say so but the lawn looks nice.

The weather seems to have stabilized. I still have the snow shovels and ice chipper on the front porch in case of a snow storm. When I get home, I guess I'll throw caution to the wind and take them out to the garage. I know that as soon as I do it, a snow storm will begin forming over the Rockies an start heading this way. I believe that its finally warm enough to change to snow to rain before it gets to Garrett. If I'm wrong and we do get snow, then I'll have to carry that responsibility with me to my grave. If my actions brought snow to town then I would be on Shannon's s-list. She has proclaimed it to be warm weather and far be it for me to mess with that. So, maybe I'll wait until it breaks 80 before I put the shovels away. No reason to risk my relationship with Shannon just because little kids are pointing at my porch and laughing. Maybe I'll stake a pit bull out front to keep those little whelps out of my yard. What does a smart assed kindergartner know about snow anyway?

Back yard vigilantism!!

2009-04-18T23:05:00.002-04:00

Being friends of nature, we put in a wireless router on our computer so the backyard animals can Wi-Fi on their computers. It seems that after reading my blog, one of them became a vigilante! Do you remember that rabbit I wrote about? Well, when I went to mow for the first time this year today, I found him DEAD under a bush. Some animal, and I think it was that dang starling, offed him! He then crawled under the bush and went to that bunny hutch in the sky. He could have read what I wrote and my tough talk scared him to death!

I didn't do an autopsy, so I didn't notice if there was a bullet hole in his hide. I figured if the bunny was dead, then he might've been sick and sick wildlife and me stay away from each other. It might have been death from natural causes. After a busy Easter, the bunny's heart could've exploded from the strain of lugging so much candy around.

Of course, there are a number of reasonable explanations for a dead bunny under my bush. One of his kids could've killed him for the insurance. Might've died of old age. He probably didn't stiff his loan shark. They would've broke his leg, not his neck. Now, I think its safe to say that he didn't commit suicide. After all, rabbits cannot say "Goodbye, cruel world." Plus, I didn't find a note. I doubt if it was a heart attack, the dang thing was a vegetarian.

The rabbit could have been a she. I didn't bother to check for boobs. That opens a whole other avenue of conjecture. It could've been PMS run amok or embarrassment over a bad haircut. She probably asked her husband if her butt looked big and blew up when she heard the answer.

Of course, when there is an unexpected and premature death, the first thing you think of is drugs. Ol' Peter Cottontail could have been a druggie and overdosed. It didn't look like a meth addict. It still had its teeth and its coat was well kept. I didn't see any tractor marks on its little arms. They might have been there but he was too furry to tell. He might have been a glue huffer and burned out his brain. I don't remember missing any glue, but my memory sucks and I don't really keep an inventory of my glue. He might have been a dope smoker but there wasn't any junk food wrappers laying around so I sorta doubt it.

He might have been a rap bunny and another rapper coulda capped his ass. Probably had a rap name like DJ Bugs or L'il Buster. I don't know if rap bunnies ride around in stretch Hummers too but I haven't seen any driving around the neighborhood lately.

Everyone knows how rabbits will eat anything that grows. It could've eaten something it shouldn't. More than likely it had a lunch of cauliflower or green peppers and they killed him. I know that if I ate that crap, I'd deserve to die too! Might have had a poison ivy salad. I remember when we were kids, me and Jerry and Richard Hyde fed a goose about ten pounds of gravel at the cemetery. He wasn't too spry afterwards! Something like that could have happened here. Some bratty kid could've fed the bunny something like grits or granola.

If you ask me, he probably was looking in our windows when he saw Karl Rove on tv blowing off about how Obama is to blame about the economy and not the previous administration. Ol' Bugs probably stroked out while he was screaming at the tv about the stupid gasbag scapegoating an innocent guy.

I'm pretty sure that PETA is looking to sue me for responsibility in the rabbit's death. Remember, if the glove don't fit, you can't convict! I don't know how this has anything to do with it but I like to say it.

Finally, you might think that I am celebrating the demise of dat wascally wabbit. Well I'm not. It sorta scares me. Something out there didn't like a cute little bunny and wasted it. Being sorta obnoxious, I probably have a lot to worry about using that rationale. To any bunny fans out there, let me tell you that I cared about that rabbit and to show you how concerned I am, I'll be taking up a collection to help pay the college costs for its 73 kids. Send your checks to me or donate to me using PayPal. Together we can make a difference in the lives of Bug's kids.

How about "Chip off the ol' Block"?

2009-04-17T09:52:00.003-04:00

If you look back in some of my previous blog entries, you'll see where I refer to myself as "the fat guy" or "the big guy". When you're a hefty fellow, you tend to do that (If you're not a tight ass!). God willing and the creek don't rise, by MAXMAS Day in August, I'll be looking like my father-in-law Wayne and I will have to come up with new descriptors for myself. That won't be much of a problem for others, though, because "Hey you!" and "bozo" will still apply. In my unwitting quest to convert myself from a smoldering blob into a reasonably healthy guy before I retire, I have also eliminated a lot of the adjectives that I have relied on for years. What is left for a self-deprecating guy to do?

One good thing is it gives me some ammunition to use against those who saw fit to continually remind me that I was fat and have not yet said anything about my endeavor to get rid of my spare tire. (The tire is a Dunlap as in "My belly done lap over my belt!). My two oldest brothers have called me "fat Max" for years. Its only been since he moved home that Jim now calls me "flat Max". You can't fool me. Flat Max is fat Max with a French accent. The last time I saw Gene, he was looking good. The diabetes and heart attack got him focused and trim. Jim though, is a different story. I yearn for the opportunity to call him flat Jim or fat Jim. Turn about is fair play, right? Given the opportunity, after all the years of humiliation it caused me, I'll probably pass. We liberals are better than that.

One person won't get that same consideration. A former classmate of mine named Craig has made crass comments and demeaning observations about my weight for years. Add to the fact that as I shrink out of my old clothes, he's growing into them! The first time I see Craig after I duck under 200, I'll make some well-rehearsed and juicy comment about his lard ass. I might even make a smarmy crack about his growing baldness. (He's losing his hair faster than I am.) Jim and Gene get a pass because I love them. Craig doesn't.

Now, back to my dilemma. What is a self-deprecating and slim (I hope, I hope!) guy gonna do? I can't refer to myself as "Slats". Most people have never heard that description. I can't use "Jack Sprat" because that infers that my wife is fat and believe me, Gramma J is looking buff! I'm just hoping to look, act and feel normal. Go from obese to nobese. I guess I'll have to give my body shape a rest and use my other characteristics as descriptors. I could be "pick-up boy". Oh crap, that won't do. I don't own a pick-up. This summer, I'll probably be known as "long grass guy" or "stray ray". If I lived in New Jersey, I'd probably be referred to as "Einstein"! There the state university is a private college and they graduate you from high school if you can spell linguine! You know what a 13 year-old virgin is called in New Jersey? Out of state!

Even the terms they use for normal guys are pretty sucky. "Joe Blow" has gay implications I don't even want to talk about. "Joe Six-pack" has been used by Sarah Palin so often in the last year, it lost its meaning for normal people. "Joe Six-pack abs" might be nice for some people but I can't even spell abs. To me, sit-ups are only done by show-offs and crunches are candy bars with Rice Krispies in them.

Now that I'm 2/3's of the way to my goal, I'd like to once again express how grateful I am to all the many people who have said and written so many kind things to and about me. I am completely and totally honored. For an example, after Jenny gave me props on her Facebook page, all the Davis girls made very kind comments. It has really struck an emotional chord with me. After years of being fat Max, friends, family and even strangers are saying so many nice things to me that sticking to the program has become much easier and that one thing is very apparent. Boy, I must've been really fat!

Now, I'm sorry if I dwell too much on my weight issues buy people are usually quite perceptive about issues that they have to regularly deal with. You lose weight and you notice people who need to lose weight. Am I right, Oprah?! My harrowing ordeal with a saliva stone has made me sympathetic to those with kidney stones. Reroof your house and you notice roofs.

This weekend I will again be surrounded by my family as we celebrate little Jaden's second birthday. I'm excited at the prospect of our seeing Jaden, Shannon, Mike and Shane along with the McClure clan at Shannon's on Sunday. Two is the age where kid's toys all need to be assembled and this birthday is no exception. Jaden will be happy to know that Uncle Shane put together our gift instead of Grampa so she'll rest assured, in her big girl bed, that all the parts were used and inserted in their proper place.

Talking about Shane, with his work schedule, he often has his afternoons open so he's taking up golf. The first time he swings a club will probably elevate his game way ahead of mine. I look forward to playing with him.

Last but not least, today would have been my dad's 86th birthday. Whenever anyone would mention how I was just like him, dad would say "That's the best compliment he'll ever get!" You know, I gotta agree with him. Happy Birthday, Dad!

"There he went, Fudd!!"

2009-03-25T12:22:00.003-04:00

As my last post iterates, its springtime in America. Animals, especially the dumb ones, have migrated back to our back yards. They've come out of their burrows, nests, hives and holes to make their homes in my yard. If it has a stinger, I'll find its nest somewhere very inconvenient, like the hollow handle of my gas grill. Yeah, getting stung when you lift the lid on the grill just adds to the grilling experience.

Besides my yearly infestation of hornets and wasps, the pests that get on my nerves the most is rabbits. Since the dumb bunnies make their nests in the middle of the yard, I'll invariably mow off the top of at least one when I mow the first time. They use a lot of hair in their nests so when the mower shoots out a wad of hair, I know a bunny nest just lost its roof. Well, you say, what harm could a "widdle wabbit" do anyway? Plenty! Have you ever seen a Bugs Bunny cartoon? Its based on FACT! Lately, I've been eating a lot of vegetables and I'd like to have a little garden where I could grow some of my favorite veggies. Not with those varmints in my yard! Ask Shannon what happened to her pepper plants two years ago. The rabbits ate 'em. All the way to the ground. With those buck teeth and beady eyes. Just when she was ready to enjoy a couple hot peppers, along came some bestial bunnies to eat not only the peppers, but the whole stinking plant!

Now, it those bucktoothed barbarians would eat the broccoli or cauliflower, I could possibly be tolerant. But when they eat the green bean and pepper plants they deserve no mercy! I proudly displayed a box of rabbit meat in my freezer for 3 years before we finally pitched it.

Next month, the Easter Bunny will be back, jacking our kids up with sugar, making them fat and rotting their teeth. I heard on Fox News that a group of rabbits were major stockholders of Hershey's, Mars and the Tootsie Roll companies. Therefore, the so-called Easter Bunny is actually a shill for the candy companies. As for the candy, the rabbits don't even like to eat it. Not when they can stroll into my yard and belly up to the Teders Salad Bar.

Those of you rabbit apologists out there who think that the little bunny in the fat guy's yard is an innocent bystander, take a second look at its actions. If it was innocent, it would traipse through my yard, easy as you please. But no, its out there, running around suspiciously. What's it running from? Whose garden has he just raided? And when they stop, just look at those red, beady eyes. Oh, you say to yourself "Its so cute and fluffy..." Well and Hitler used to wear a fur coat! I'm not saying that rabbits are Nazis or anything but, I haven't seen any squirrels in my yard since the rabbits invaded.

Finally, the last thing in the world I want to do is scare little kids, like my dear Jaden, away from the Easter Bunny. All I'm saying is, when you take the kids to the mall to see the Easter Bunny, keep the mace handy!

What is bird for "Get outa here!"

2009-03-22T13:50:00.003-04:00

As I was slaving away at the taxes this morning, Jenny noticed a bird carrying straw and twigs into the side holes of the gas grill. Being the dumb one of the family, I went out and lifted the lid of the grill. It was becoming a huge bird's nest. There was straw weaved all the way through the briquettes, grills and gas jets. Luckily, it wasn't finished. After I cleaned out as much as I could, I burned out any leftover straw I might have missed. As I was doing this, the birds came back and boy were they mad! After about 15 minutes, my frugality kicked in. I turned off the gas and stuffed the holes with wads of newspaper.

This really torqued off that stupid bird. He stood on a nearby tree limb, flapping his wings, spinning in circles and squawking up a dickens. After the grill cooled down some, the bird came back and his demeanor hadn't improved one bit. He was crawling all over the grill looking for a way into it. The wads of newspaper were particularly irksome for him and his girl-friend bird. If they wise up and pull out the paper, I'll have to invest in a sling shot.

Now, this isn't the first time I've had animal issues with this grill. Last year, I had wasp nests in the handle. What does Mother Nature have against my grill? I use "natural" gas. Its not as if that black starling is related to those chicken wings I grilled last fall. They were unrecognizable as to species, but were way too big to be starling wings. Hey bird! If that's your problem, go build a nest at that Vietnamese restaurant!

He's also pretty nervous. Every time I go outside to get a nice picture of him squawking on the basketball backboard, he flies off as soon as the door clicks. What's he have to be nervous about. Besides trespassing in my stinking gas grill.

I thought maybe I could Doctor Doolittle the damn thing but that didn't work. I learned that starlings are a lot like railroad officials. No matter how much common sense a suggestion may have, it will be ignored in favor of an original plan that doesn't work. Do you hear that bird? If you succeed with your twisted plan, the first time we grill breasts, we'll have an extra one! Yours! He's just standing there on the backboard with his little wingtips in his ears. Hey bird! Even the railroad would have figured out after spending thousands of dollars and a month studying it that it is not a good idea to build a nest in a gas grill! Get with the program, Jeckle!

Now, if this was New Jersey, I'd just order a mob hit on the darn thing. Plant his little feet in a small block of cement and throw him into a bird bath. Make a little Starling Cacciatore!

How would politicians handle the situation? Obama would point out to him an empty bird house in the neighbor's yard and convince him it would be easier to live there since those people are dumber and less threatening. (They don't have any friends from Jersey!) McCain would have ordered a drone attack on it. In Congress, the Democrats would have instituted a grill use tax while the Republicans would have shipped him off to Guantanamo!

Even though I'm pretty much speechless, as is normal, I know what Jenny would have to say about this whole situation: "Quit screwin' around and get on those taxes!!"

Me and my Amish buddy...

2009-03-14T16:10:00.005-04:00

Shane and Ashley were able to come home this weekend from Indy and I am happy to see them again. We just don't get together often enough for me. While he was home, we got a couple pictures together. Its all part of my ongoing effort to look good by getting my picture taken with people who have the looks.

I wanted to post these pictures instead of the one I had posted because I'm anxious to rid myself of my "whopper big" past in favor of my "sorta big" present. I am hoping that by the time Maxmas Day arrives in August, you can't tell me from Shane from the back (without looking at the hairline!)

So if you see Shane-o around town, say howdy. I'm sure that if you see me, you'll notice a spring in my step that always seems to follow Shane home!

Distilled Barney...

2009-03-07T20:46:00.004-05:00

Boy, am I distressed. It seems that my last blog entry was so blah that my buddy, FUZBUKT didn't have anything to wisecrack about. That being so means that I have fallen down on the job. He's my goofy alter ego. Sorta like Lou Costello to my Bud Abbott or Gracie Allen to my George Burns. I feed him lines like Sally Strothers feeds Filipino kids. The fact that my last entry couldn't be mined for a joke is a shame that I'll have to learn to live with. If you were reading this straight out of my journal, you would see where my tear drops have smeared the ink.

The other day when I was grocery shopping, I picked up a gallon of distilled water. What makes this noteworthy is the fact that the distilled water has an expiration date! The water had a "Use by" date for goodness sakes. Then what? All the water, not just the distilled stuff had expiration dates. You would have to be a world class, blue ribbon, hall of fame dumbass to throw the water away when it is not used by the date on the side. Oh, but those people exist! They may breathe through their mouths or live in Auburn, but they're there.

This experience has sorta piqued my interest in expiration dates. Now that I've got to start checking other things like toilet paper, kitty litter and garbage bags. Its like any other defining moment in your life. Get a butchered hair cut, you notice hair cuts. Put a new roof on your house, you notice roofs. See an expiration date on a gallon of water and you notice the labels put on products to help businesses from being sued by boneheads. Like: Remove the plastic wrapper before baking the pizza. Bananas must have the peels removed before eating. Do not drink the fabric softener! Wouldn't it be tragic if you were so stupid you needed these warnings? It would be worse, though, if your spouse or kid was. Personally, I don't have a problem because I've surrounded myself with smart people. Poor people like Barb have to take it on the chin!

Being more proof that I am attempting to enter the Twenty-first century is the fact that I've opened a Facebook page. I'm pretty much clueless about all the jargon used and features of Facebook. I've been given two green beers and I'm at a loss figuring out what it means. Also, I've noticed that there are some people who are very eager to accumulate friends. One of Shane's friends wanted to be my friend too. I'm pretty sure that there's nothing in my life that would interest him but, since I'm the nurturing type, I'll be his friend. I'm convinced that Facebook will bring about the "Barneyfication" of America with everyone stumbling around asking "Will you be my friend?"

I'm hoping to use Facebook to help me touch base again with old friends from high school that I have lost contact with. I've already got one, Mike Hockaday, and can't wait til I get home and check out his page. I'd like to touch base with old friends from college but I can't remember their last names. I remember that an old roommate's mom's maiden name is Valentino but I can't remember his first or last name. One of my best friends during the "Motley's Pub" year was Don from South Bend. Last name is a blank. The same goes for my old Army buddies. I remember more of those guys names but I can't find much on 123people on them. It seems that all my old friends (at least the ones that I remember) have lived their lives under the radar. Is it too much to ask, if a guy's memory sucks, that his old friends be flamboyant enough to get noticed by the world wide web?

Well, when I get off this train in Cleveland I'll be headed to a new hotel. We no longer stay at the Wyndham. Now we're at a Doubletree Hotel by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Also, I'm hoping it has a good place to walk (its right by the lake) without the panhandlers and traffic.

Finally, last week Paul Harvey, the radio commentator, passed away. His feature "The Rest of the Story" was always one of my favorites. The reason I mention it was because one of his broadcasts has stayed with me forever. Jen and Shannon have probably heard this a dozen times so bear with me please. During the filming of "The Wizard of Oz", the character of the Wizard and the traveling salesman, played by Frank Morgan, needed an old used tuxedo. The director sent a flunky to the Salvation Army store to get one. After the filming was done, a wardrobe lady looked in the jacket lining and saw the name of the original owner of the tux. Who was it? L. Frank Baum, the author of "The Wizard of Oz". And now you know... The rest of the story.

So there you go Fuzzie, plenty of ammo for your gun!

Walking with Giants!!

2009-03-03T18:26:00.008-05:00

I'm sorry that its been so long since I wrote an entry. Its not that I've been busy and couldn't find the time. If you want the real truth, things have been sorta slow lately and I've been on vacation the last week. I just haven't had anything to say. Those that know me know that having nothing to say has never stopped me from saying something. So, even though I am affected with 100% writer's block, I'll muddle ahead because that's the kind of guy I am. First, let me make some observations...

Jenny's dad, Wayne, is nearing maintenance weight on his lifestyle change. His dedication to proper diet and exercise has him looking great! He's been leading the way for me and deserves an enormous "Way to go!"
Last weekend, at the Home and Garden Show, I met Shannon's co-worker and Laura's husband Dalen. (Though officially known as Sara's dad) What an interesting guy. There's someone who needs to write a blog.

One of my life's greatest pleasures is my little granddaughter Jaden. Like anyone else, she has her favorite TV stars. Jaden's three favorites are Arthur, (Curious) George and Clifford. At the Home and Garden Show on Wednesday, I got my picture taken with two of the big three!
(Rotating the picture sorta squashed me a bit.) Ordinarily I don't grovel at the feet of celebrities but think of the street cred with Jaden I got with this picture. I'm hanging with the superstars!

Afterwards, Jenny had to get a picture with me. Sorta like basking in the glow. I even had to fight off the urge to dress in all yellow. Couldn't find a 10 gallon yellow hat in my size anyway.

For the time being, I'm back on the Garrett to Cleveland run. The guys with more seniority than me have found what they believe to be better jobs elsewhere. I can hold three turns in the Cleveland pool so I ought to be able to ride it out for awhile. Now that I said that, I'll probably be rolled out of this pool before I get back to Garrett on my first turn. Also, this trip I'm working with the Junior Rush Limbaugh that I described in a blog last October. What a treat. Sorta makes me want to deregulate something or torture someone.

As many of you know, my lovely daughter Shannon is expecting again. She is due in September and her mother and I could not be more excited! This blessed event makes it more imperative that I keep focused on my diet. Then, when she gets to be eight months pregnant, maybe everyone won't comment how much she looks like her dad!

Recommended by "The Big O"!

2009-02-10T02:40:00.002-05:00

Most people know that Oprah started a reading club a few years ago. Anyone lucky (or good) enough to get their book recommended by Oprah were assured of it becoming a best seller. Just think what the impact on our culture would be if Oprah started a blog reading club! Her recommended blogs would be read by millions and become defining influences of American life. I'm wondering what it would take for Oprah to recommend my humble and unassuming little blog. (I hear she is big on humility!)

First off, Oprah is currently in one of her "big boned" phases. That means that all references to one's body is out. She don't want reminded about the return of her saddlebags. That means I've got to eliminate all mentions of a shanker on someones ass. Also, got to quit talking about our recent weight loss. While she's busy packing on that third chin, she might get jealous.

Oprah likes to sit around shooting the bull. I do too! Maybe I should emphasize how good I'd look sitting on her couch discussing my blog. In the couch sitting world, I'm considered a visionary! "Yo Oprah, who ties your shoes?" And, did I say how I can carry a conversation?

It seems that "The Big O" (my pet name for Oprah) is big on animal rights. Just like me! I am currently owned by a kitty named Lucy. (You can see her on Gramma J's last blog entry, taking a nap in Jaden's play refrigerator.) I believe that no man stand so tall as he who stoops to pick up a kitty!

She likes to give gifts to her audience. I like to get gifts. Sorta sends a shiver up my back. Like all the other talk shows, when Oprah runs out of ideas, she just grabs some ugly schlump out of the audience and does a makeover on them. What a coincidence! If there is anyone on God's earth who desperately needs a makeover its me. I could write volumes of blog entries about how O changed my life by getting me that sweater or restyling what hair I have left. I hear that she likes fashion. Even though I wear only Sam's Club t-shirts and jeans, I can blog about fashion. As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about doing an entry about how wearing white socks with colored underwear is a fashion faux-pas.

Personally, there are a number of eerily similar things about me and Oprah. We both supported President Obama. She used to go to Reverend Wright's church in Chicago and I've gone by it on trains hundreds of times! Put a hoodie and jeans on us and you can't tell us apart from the rear! We both work in Chicago and live in Indiana. I've seen Lake Michigan. She probably owns it.

You know, now that I think about it, Oprah could probably learn alot from a fat white guy in his 50's. Give her the insight to transform that little dog and pony show of hers into something meaningful. Reading my stuff could make her hotter than two rats screwin' in a wool sock...

A stimulating experience!!

2009-02-07T14:02:00.002-05:00

I've figured it out! It just came to me how to have an economic stimulus bill that will work! No, don't resod the national mall or buy rubbers for illegal aliens. Here's how to do it!

I'm sure you remember the economic stimulus bill last year that gave us all $600 to spend. Like good Americans, Jenny and I went out and bought a new hi-def TV with the money. I don't know about the economy, but that purchase stimulated that H.H. Gregg salesman! The reason that last year's stimulus plan didn't work was it stimulated the economy of the country that made that television, not ours.

The auto industry illustrates that quite clearly. When you buy a car built in America, the purchase price of that car circulates through the economy 13 times! It is paying taxes to five levels of government, including payroll taxes and wages not only to the auto company employees, but to the workers of the hundreds of supplier companies. Add to that, the purchase power of those employees, buying groceries, houses, cars, etc. Foreign cars that are assembled in America has less of an impact of an American made car because it is assembled from nearly all foreign made parts. There is nearly zero economic impact from suppliers. The purchase price of a foreign made car goes through the economy only once. A $20,000 Chevy has a $260,000 impact on the American economy and a $20,000 import has a $20,000 impact.

They're looking at 42% of the stimulus plan being tax cuts. That's O.K. if the cuts go to the people, not big business. Let me give an example. When President Bush was trying to get Congress to eliminate the capital gains tax on corporations in 2005, he said that those companies already paid taxes on that money once and we shouldn't tax it again. But that's not quite right. General Electric, one of the largest and most profitable companies in America, not only didn't pay any taxes in 2005, it ended the year with a $16,000,000 tax credit! Do they need more tax breaks? Uh-uh. You know what the real kick in the pants is on that G.E. tax credit? They have moved nearly all their consumer appliance manufacturing overseas, yet, are still getting these major tax subsidies.

So, here's my plan. Listen up Nancy Pelosi and John Behner. You too, Harry Reid and Mitch McConnell.

Half the stimulus is tax cuts and tax changes. The other half is stimulus checks. The tax cuts, for people earning less than $200,000 a year would be a REFUND OF TAXES PAID. If the amount is $1,000 per person, for an example, and the taxes due on your adjusted gross income is only $400, then you only get $400. The tax changes for corporations would be that after a company figures out all their deductions on their tax forms, they will only be able to deduct the same percentage of their deductions as the percentage of their American manufacturing. Say G.E.'s revenues accrued from products that had 75% foreign manufacture and 25% American manufacture. Then, only 25% of their deductions would be deductible. Don't reward them for selling out their American workers!

Last but not least is the stimulus checks. They would be sent out in the form of a debit card, with an impressed name and only sent to American citizens and taxpayers of record. Picture ID's, proving that it is the buyer's card, are mandatory. These debit cards will be able to purchase services and goods that are made in America only! You want to buy a bike? You'll have to buy an American made bike that will stimulate the American economy and not the Chinese one. Buy groceries, whatever. Retailers can mark their products with a star to help you out. When the government gets the receipts back and finds a foreign product purchased, it will send a 1099 form to that person to recover that money on their next tax returns and can charge a penalty to the retailer for taking the card on an illegal purchase.

There you go. A stimulus plan that will work and thought up by a guy who shouldn't have to think so much! Senators and Representatives, vote in this package and you might win re-election. Barack, you owe me one!!

Yo! Prez! Talk to Maxie...

2009-01-30T05:17:00.002-05:00

I read the other day where President Obama's (Doesn't that just roll off your tongue?) transition team is on the lookout for smart and effective administrators to replace the mindless bureaucrats of the Bush administration. Where do I volunteer? I can be as mindless as the next guy! As a matter of fact, I have taken great pride in my ability to exist nicely without engaging my mind at all! In the past, the Bush administration handled problems by reclassifying the problem to be an "opportunity" then ignoring it. I can ignore it without all that reclassifying crap.

Yeah, I'm sure that you are muttering to yourself that I may not be the stiffest collar in the shirt drawer or the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but jeez, look what I have to live up to. The bozos of the last eight years have lowered the bar all the way to the ground! I could be a street corner bum, in diapers, with a bottle of Thunderbird in my hand and I'd still be able to run FEMA better than "Brownie".

Just what jobs do I think I could handle? Plenty. Make me a procurement officer for the government. I ought to be able to find a toilet seat for less than $1000 or a wrench for less than $5000. See, I'm already saving the government big bucks. Make me a low-level functionary in the Fort Wayne office for, say $130,000/year and I'll be there 3 or 4 days a week, on my A game, ready to do my part to get America on its feet again. After I take my morning swim, I'll tackle a grave problem or two. After my afternoon nap, I'll do it again! You see, there's no off switch on the genius machine! How would I handle a grave problem that may arise? Simple, I'd "kick it upstairs" or "kick it downstairs". You see, I've even mastered the mindless bureaucrat-speak. I learned from experts. When I was a kid, there was a guy around town named Cookie who was as strong as an ox and just as dumb. He was paid to shine shoes at the cardroom downtown and once he went to
Goodwill and bought 15 old pairs of shoes. He lined them all up where he shined shoes and when anyone asked for a shoe shine, Cookie would tell them he had to do all these other shoes first. After that, he wasn't bothered again. I could take that lesson and apply it to government work. I would be spending so much time trying to direct as much government bailout cash to me and my family, I wouldn't have time to help anyone else with their problems.

Maybe I could even work from home. That way I wouldn't have to listen to the problems of a bunch of losers. So what if your house got flooded out, my truck only gets 15 miles a gallon! Too bad your family got wiped out in a plane crash, my kitty has an ingrown claw! Yeah, I'm a good listener and like the previous administration, a good ignorer and forgetter too! Still looking for that government permit? Call back in a week. You want help? See Dr. Phil.

So you see, President Obama, I may be the solution to all your problems. Need someone to run OSHA, NASA, or the EPA or FEMA or any other letter combination? Talk to Maxie! After all, if you can't dazzle 'em with brilliance, baffle 'em with bullcrap!

America's saviors? Barack and Max!

2009-01-22T16:28:00.003-05:00

The other day, Barack Obama became the 44th President of the United States. Like millions of others, I was inspired by the events of the day and by the President's words. I decided right there I will change my ways. He said that we all must work together to get through these rough times. I've seen the light! I'll step up to the plate. I'll ring the brass bell. I'll fart at the campfire! To prove that I'm committed to the arduous task of helping drag America back from the abyss, I'm committing myself to the following from this day on:

-I will quit remarking how stupid the President is.
-I will quit referring to the Vice President as a pit bull with chapped lips.
-I will condemn torture of our enemies and reserve it for people who kill children.
-I will welcome back the writ of Habeas Corpus to our legal system.
-No more "Chicken Hawk" cracks.
-No more whining about how the White House is sublet to the oil companies.
-No more cracks about the new Presidential Library stocking only comic books.

There! See! I can take the tough stands and do what it takes to help America! If more of you follow my lead, then the light we see at the end of the tunnel will not be an approaching train!

I'm smart and you ain't!

2009-01-17T23:04:00.002-05:00

Earlier today, I was browsing through a number of blogs on www.condron.us/blogroll.aspx . Somehow, my blog had gotten on Condron and I had gotten some hits from there. No one ever stayed but it introduced me to the sight. Boy, is that an eye opener!

I always thought that I was knowledgeable, sorta interesting and a little goofy. I've written about topics that affect our way of life. Last year, even presidents would pore over my blog to find a reference to FUZBUKT and the mention of a shanker on my ass. I realize that this blog isn't Pulitzer material, but its not a forum for booger picking contests either. But as I looked at blogs from all over the world, I felt like Elmo at a presidential debate. Jeez, are people self-pretentious!

Most of the bloggers are self-proclaimed experts in some high brow subject or other. I could spend maybe 10 seconds reading their drivel and then I'd have to move on. The worse ones are the political ones. There's a ton of them against Israel's invasion of Gaza. Doesn't that sound like a real knee slapper? One of them went on and on for five or six pages and didn't once mention boogers, farts or belching! Yeah, yeah, the invasion wasn't nice, the bodies on the side of the roads was tragic but can't they think of anything funny?

When I did find the blogs of normal people, they never mentioned any names or locations. One lady called herself WeaselMama with weasel-like names for the kids and hubby. One even wrote about how she thought everyone had to accept a rodent-like persona. One guy was NukeDaddy with his kids referred to by their numbered order of arrival. None of these were half as interesting as they thought. Surely not as interesting as Laura, Krista, Kelli and Shannon's families. NukeDaddy's kids seemed liked caricatures, not great kids like Sarah, Seth, Marissa and Jaden!

I believe that I have a very good knowledge of railroading in America. It has always been interesting to me. The reason I don't blog much about railroading is because even though it interests me, to most others its a yawner. Likewise, the majority of the blogs I looked at was the result of someone blowing off about whatever his expertise is and rubbing our noses in it.

Therefore, I promise blogdom that I will not become a self-centered know it all who gives everyone a code name. Heck, I'm lucky to remember my name on cold days! If any of you readers are reading this on Condron.US, I didn't mean you personally, but everyone else!

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

2009-01-09T05:00:00.002-05:00

Twenty-seven years ago, on an extremely cold and snowy night, my little "Honey bunny" was born. I can honestly say that it was one of the happiest days in my life. Shannon has made me honored to be her dad, every day of her life. So, happy birthday sweetie from your biggest admirer!

To commemorate this day, I have written a little song. It is sung to the tune of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic". The last stanza, though, addresses a medical emergency in Shannon's family. It hope it spits out like a watermelon seed!

My lovely daughter Shannon has a birthday today.
She is turning twenty-seven in an undramatic way.
We are going out to dinner to celebrate the day!
The years are marching on!

Shannon, Shannon we all love you! Shannon, Shannon we all love you!
Shannon, Shannon we all love you! The years are marching on!

Her little daughter Jaden will be celebrating too!
She may be wondering why the waiters are singing "Happy birthday" to you!
Its plain to see if you've known Shannon since nineteen eighty-two.
Little Jaden is just like her.

Shannon, Shannon, we all love you! Shannon, Shannon we all love you!
Shannon, Shannon, we all love you! Little Jaden is just like her.

You know, she still looks like a schoolgirl to me.
Like her mom and her grandma, she's aging gracefully.
She'll still be a trophy wife when she is eighty-three!
Her gene's are shining through!

Shannon, Shannon we all love you! Shannon, Shannon we all love you!
Shannon, Shannon we all love you! Her gene's are shining through!

To anyone who knows me, the facts are plain to see.
I have a major soft spot for my loving family.
So I would be remiss if I didn't sing to thee:
Happy Birthday Honey Bunny!

Shannon, Shannon we all love you! Shannon, Shannon we all love you!
Shannon, Shannon we all love you! Happy Birthday Honey Bunny!

In passing, I have to mention how Mike's body is in shock!
His kidney stones returned with pain that is quite hard to block.
He is coping by biting down on a sock!
'Cause the stone is really a rock!

Oh Mike! We really feel for you! Oh Mike! We really feel for you!
Oh Mike! We really feel for you! 'Cause the stone is really a rock!

Woo-hoo!!

2008-12-30T14:25:00.002-05:00

I lost 4.6 pounds last week with all the Christmas dinners! I am so happy. I credit Jen's advice 100%. Thanks sweetie!!

Hip hip hurray!

2008-12-30T05:31:00.002-05:00

The rhyming is easy
For some reason today.
So here's another entry
Without delay!

Pretty soon we'll party.
Let out a cheer!
2008 will be over
And '09 will be here!

Bush left us a mess
Which was really quite rude.
The economy's in shambles.
The people are screwed!

The world all see us
As loudmouth cowboys
Who torture and bluster
And make too much noise.

Whereas Bush is a bozo
The fact remains,
On January 19th, change
Is a president with brains!

We'll start to recover
America's good name.
The cabinet will be competent
Where now they are lame.

Barack'll roll up his sleeves
'Cause there's alot to be done.
He'll use common sense and brains
Where now there is none.

To clean up from Bush
He's one in a million.
And he'll never have to ask
"How many is a Brazilian?"

To be like Mike...

2008-12-30T05:14:00.002-05:00

I wrote a blog entry
Just the other night.
Because I didn't like it
Its out of sight.

It was about
What I plan to do
To improve myself
The next year or two.

But look at me
And its plain to see
That my weight loss
Will take priority.

With my burps and farts
I'm just another guy.
The dudes laugh
And the women sigh.

So, the resolutions
Are usually cut and dried.
That my faults are obvious
Cannot be denied.

I wrote two pages
Resolving once again
To do what it takes
To finally be thin.

Yeah, I'll resolve
To quit eating fries.
To drink more water.
Get more exercise.

The typical pap
You hear from us biggies.
I'll read their book but not eat
The three little piggies!

I'll eat more fruit
And more bunny food.
I'll say no to hot wings
And anything brewed.

But this year is different
Because I'm not joking.
I'm using the will power I found
When I quit smoking.

My brothers are sceptical.
A few out of many
Who don't believe that
A Teders can be skinny!

I'll be cutting down
On the foods that I like.
My motto now is:
"I wanna be like Mike!"

No more hot wings, pizza
Or buffets for me!
Its Begone! to Ryans
And BW3.

Yes, will power will help
Where I usually failed.
With Jenny's support
I'll have it nailed.

Only one thing can
Derail my diet this time.
Fat is much easier
Than skinny to rhyme!!

Ho-ho-holy cow!!

2008-12-27T10:23:00.013-05:00

Another Christmas has come and gone. I believe I like it more now then when I was a kid. I am happy that my seniority at work enables me to take vacation during the holidays. I've spent the last two weeks taking it easy and doing Christmas stuff around the house and attending Christmas get-togethers. One thing about railroad work, you often can't get together at the get-togethers. I set up the train this year to run around the tree. Haven't done that in 15 years at least. I even hung outdoor lights. I thought that after I fell asleep, Jenny was secretly taking my temperature. You see, normally, I'm not the most ambitious fellow. To do the two Christmas things that don't have to be done, well, Jenny might think I was sick or something.

The reason I never put outdoor lights out is because its usually June before they get taken down and that looks Jakey. I have them on a timer to come on at dusk and go off at dawn. With them on, I don't have to remember to turn on the porch light for Jenny.

As for presents, I made out real well. Other than a new pick-up, top-of-the-line laptop and hot-tub, I got everything I wanted. Number one on my list was spending time with my family and that was the present I cherished the most. Number two was the Sham-Wow!

Shannon and family got me a leather bound journal in which I'm writing this. She calls it keeping and recording my blog entries. I call it preserving evidence! Writing on the right side pages is a snap. The left side will be challenging. But then again, I think choosing what wing sauce to order at BW3 is challenging also.

I remembered to bring along my camera to some of the festivities the last couple weeks and got some really neat pictures.

This first picture is little Jaden helping her dad to blow out his birthday candles. Curious George is looking on and applauding baby and daddy. It looks here that Grandma Ina is getting ready to stick her tongue out at me. I seem to evoke that response alot

Here Shane is demonstrating a new fad, that has taken Indy by storm! It's wearing your sixth grade long johns over your t-shirt while appearing dark and mysterious. Indy people sure are an eclectic crowd.

Here Jaden is telling Gramma J about her harrowing ordeal as a refugee during the ice storm. Luckily, they got power back on Christmas Eve and were able to open their presents at home on Christmas morning. After saying how much she enjoyed staying with Gramma Karen and Grampa Ron, she nevertheless clicked her heels together and said "There's no place like home!" three times.

Here, Lucy is up in the window meowing at Jaden to watch out for the train! Also, it seems like every time Jaden turns her back, Curious George and Arthur start making out in the stroller!

Jaden and I like to make faces at each other. Isn't she goofy?
Here's Jenny's brother Jeff and his handsome family. On the right is Grandma Marie and in the red vest is my lovely niece Tabitha. She is someone very special. A week or so ago, we celebrated her becoming a CNA, of which we are all very proud of. If Jenny and Shannon can convince her to write a blog, then we could learn more about her interesting life and point of view. Opening the present is my nephew, Trenton. My dad would've called him a "fart smeller". He's a pretty nice kid despite being from Avilla. Jaden's looking at him like he just told a dirty joke or belched.

Here Jaden is trying on a pretty outfit she got from Jeff and Jane. They fit around her neck nicely.

I'll let this picture with Jaden and her Aunt Cindy speak for itself. I don't dare write my first choice for a caption.

Finally, here Jaden shows Gramma Pat and Grampa Wayne how she painted this lovely picture frame for them. She was a busy girl this Christmas, painting numerous picture frames and ornaments for gifts.

Last but not least, today is Wayne's birthday. I believe that he's 70 this year but looks younger than I do! I owe Wayne more than I could ever repay. Not only for the countless number of repairs he's done for us, or the many things he's made or built for us, or the numerous times he's been there for us. He's shown me what it takes to be a great grandpa and I hope I can measure up to his example. Happy birthday Wayne! Come over to the house tonight and help us celebrate Ron Weimer's birthday!

"Ho ho ho-hum"

2008-12-25T00:25:00.002-05:00

It just turned midnight and it is Christmas Day. I would like to extend my wishes to everyone to have a blessed Christmas. To Shannon, Mike and Jaden, our icebound refugees, Welcome Home! To Bob and Barb, your friendship is one of my most prized possessions: Merry Christmas.

I would also like to extend my best wishes to all of both of our families. I wouldn't be what I am today without my family: Balding, overweight with stinky feet and a horrible memory! (lol)

To Krista, Andy and Seth, I want to wish not only a great Christmas, but a normal, ho-hum New Year. So surprises or drama would make it very happy. Just remember, Max and Maxine makes great middle names! Jenny and I are praying for twins! Keep Seth busy! To Amanda Bee, let me wish you and yours all the best. And to my reader from Washington D.C. and the U.S. Courts, if you are a federal grand jury, that wasn't me. Merry Christmas anyway!

Well, I have to get to bed. Got a busy day today!

Muse abuse

2008-12-11T02:16:00.002-05:00

When men write poetry
Its never serious nor grave.
Its usually about a girl from Nantucket
Whose favors they crave.

Well, I'm here to tell you
That some of us have class.
We don't care if the top of Old Smoky
Is covered with grass.

Anyone can write a blog.
My last entry is proof.
But how many can do it in verse
Without seeming aloof?

I'm actually a minstrel
Who dazzles and enthralls.
I'm really just a
Longfellow in overalls.

When writing poetry
Its usually automatic
That you evoke the Gods
And be over dramatic.

But how fun is that?
I said to myself.
I'll get rid of the drama.
Put it on the shelf.

Instead, I'll write about
My observations.
A little off base
Without reservations.

This year's election
Was quite historic.
Obama was Socratic.
Palin was sophomoric.

During the campaign
There was nobody dumber
Than that Bozo they called
Joe the Plumber.

When the election was over
I was quite overjoyed.
Those commercials all
Made me completely annoyed.

But since then the ads
Are as bad as it gets.
They'll advertise anything
And have no regrets.

I'm sure there's a studio
Somewhere in this land
Where "Viva Viagra"
Is sang by a band.

Poor Alyssa Milano had
Zits everywhere.
Her zit cream fixed everything
Even her hair!

Lawyer's ads on TV ask
If your loved one's in a coma
Or if you suffer from
Mesothelioma!

Yeah, the campaign was long
With a lot of drama and thrills.
But its many ads saved us
From male enhancement pills!

That campaign will influence
Ads yet to come.
They'll take it for granted
We're all really dumb.

Ora-Jel will showcase
Joe the Numb-er.
Poly-Grip will feature
Joe the Gummer!

Yeah, there'll be Sarah
All cutesy and perky.
Becoming the spokesperson
For Butterball Turkey!

I've found my muse.
My poetry is gold.
My talent finally showed through
Before I got old.

So please don't pester
Me to publish my verse.
My poetry is my blessing
And its my curse.

Roses are red
And daisies are yellow.
If talent was steel

Mine would be jello!

"Santa Shaved!"

2008-12-05T22:47:00.002-05:00

If I remember correctly, I haven't blogged since Veteran's Day. Thank God I don't write for a living because I've got writer's block. I've started to write blog entries a number of times, including an open letter to Santa and after a paragraph or so I hit a brick wall. Heck, since I've blogged last, little Jaden has learned her alphabet, can figure square roots in her head and knows the presidents through the first Roosevelt. Well, I might be exaggerating a tad. I don't think she knows the presidents after Lincoln.

To catch you up since I've last blogged, I've lost 10 more pounds (2.8 pounds Thanksgiving week!) Most of it was probably hair. It seems that I'm destined to be a FUZBUKT look alike. Geez, now I'm depressed (hehe). With the economic downturn, the railroad is running fewer trains and I no longer have enough seniority to hold the Garrett to Cleveland run. So, goodbye high paying trips. Goodbye to the two days off between trips. Goodbye to the swimming pool, sauna and hot tub at the Wyndom Hotel in Cleveland and goodbye to the easy trains. Now I'm back in the Garrett to Chicago pool and its goodbye social life and goodbye extra sleep.

My sister Linda had an operation yesterday and Jenny found out from my niece Cathy that she is doing fine. That makes me happy. Linda is one of God's better ideas.

I was watching Countdown on TV yesterday and Michael Moore was on talking about bailing out GM. He said something that got me thinking. He said that GM is asking for a 16 Billion dollar loan but the whole company is capitalized (the value of all its outstanding stock) at less than 3 Billion! He said that's like giving a $700,000 mortgage on a $100,000 house and isn't that how we got into this mess in the first place? Thank God (again) that we don't have Joe the Plumber trying to get us out of this mess!

As most of you know, Christmas is three weeks away. That makes me happy. Christmas means that I'll be able to spend time with my family and that's the best present of all. Jenny and I aren't buying each other clothes this Christmas. We are hoping that we wont be in our current sizes long enough for new clothes. "Of thee I sing!"

Coming in a little over a week is the birthday of my beloved son-in-law, Mike. He is a good complement to me. His insurance company charges him extra because he's too skinny and mine charges me extra for being too fat. He plays a round of golf in double figures, I do it in triple figures. But what's important is how we're similar. We both have outstanding wives and daughters!!

For those of you who are sick of the Christmas Specials on TV, be aware that I have not seen one yet this year. Are they still showing them or are people starting to get sick of seeing Frosty the Snowman for the 30th time? The History Channel doesn't start their Christmas specials til the week before. I love cable TV!

Back when I started writing this blog, I could write an entry wherever I was and despite whatever was going on around me. Now, after I've done the easy subjects, I can't write if the TV is on or anyone is talking. On a train, I write Pulitzer Prize material. At home, with the TV on its "Laverne and Shirley"! On a train, its wry, at home its rye. On a train, its Red Skelton, at home its Deuce Bigalow! On a train, its Hillary. At home, its Sarah. Now that I'm on the Chicago run, I ought to have plenty of time to write some really great stuff!

Finally, now is the season where the fat guys get a little respect. There's no wonder why I love Christmas. All will be great until the first kid cries "Santa Shaved!!"

A day to remember...

2008-11-11T22:00:00.002-05:00

Today I am walking with a softer step, with a smile on my face. In a society that bitterly complains about its callow, thoughtless youth, I have experienced the opposite.

My day started off when I got a text from my daughter Shannon wishing me a happy two year anniversary! My life changed for the better two years ago when Jenny and I quit smoking. I had tried many, many times but the coming arrival of little Jaden was the help we needed to finally quit. Her text continued with "I'm proud of you!". That made my day. I thought about how thoughtful that was and how I appreciated it immensely.

This afternoon I got a text from my son Shane wishing me a Happy Veteran's Day! He ended the text with "Thank you for your service." I was so humbled, I misted up.

Yeah, my shoulders are a little straighter tonight and my voice is a little softer. You see, I have again received that cherished gift that comes with fatherhood. Thanks again kids. Thank you very much.

"Woo-Hoo!!!"

2008-11-06T09:00:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, America made me proud. For the most part, she looked past the color of a man's skin and elected a man president who will guide America into the future. Personally, I had doubts it could be done. As a kid, I watched on TV the nightly saga on the news that chronicled the civil rights struggles that America was going through. I saw stories of hatred, bigotry on both sides and mistrust that I thought America could never outlive. Even today, I got a racist text message, in all capitals, about how the whites should report to the cotton fields. The person who sent that text, like many in America, cannot see past the color of a man's skin. He would happily forward on all the racist e-mails that circulated about the Obamas. When he referred to Barack Obama, he also referred to Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson. He has no clue that Barack Obama is nothing like the other two. He sees the black face, the automatic tax and spend tag the GOP gives any Democrat and nothing else. In a thousand years, he would never see a black person as an independently thinking individual. He sees a stereotype only.

In the same respect that I hate to be stereotyped, I refuse to stereotype. I agree with Martin Luther King in a very important distinction: I judge people, all people, by the content of their character and not the color of their skin. Whereas the author of that text sees Obama only through the lens of a stereotype, I'm sure that he would not like to be stereotyped in the same manner. I'm sure that if someone would confront him as being a pedophile or traitor just because he had a similar appearance of a known pedophile or traitor, he would react quite abruptly. Those who stereotype the most tolerate it the least.

Maybe the next four (Eight, I hope!) years will teach all America that we are all Americans. Maybe then our culture will be able to lose the African from the African-American tag like it lost the Irish-American, Italian-American and German-American tags. Maybe the strength of Barack Obama's character will help America to focus not on race but the needs of all Americans. Then, when the time comes for his re-election campaign, he won't be seen as Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson. He won't be seen as the first African-American president and he won't be treated differently because of his race. Maybe, just maybe, he will be seen as an unhyphenated American who applied his intelligence and talents to begin to bring America back from the precipice of a Bush-Cheney induced disaster to the honor and importance of America's proper place on the world stage.

With all this talk of stereotypes and such I find it funny about how one particular stereotype played out. Isn't it somewhat appropriate that now, just like all the other times in George W. Bush's life, when he has made a huge mess of things, along comes a black guy to clean it up!

While Jenny and I were watching the returns, I told her how proud I was that both our kids cared enough to vote. I would like to tell Shannon something very personal: "Woo-Hoo!! He did it! It wasn't Hillary but it wasn't Mc Clain either!! I am so happy for you!" I was disappointed that my favorite politician, Jill Long Thompson, lost her race for governor. Shannon, do you still have the trophy she presented to you in third grade for your young author's book? She referred to you as a "Very intelligent young lady" and me as the dumb guy. Is she smart or what? Indiana, the state where a Republican can gain 10 points in the polls by saying "He'll take your guns!" went for Obama. It is about time. The last time that happened, thousands of cars in Indiana had front licence plates that said "4 U LBJ" Also, my brother Jerry had lost his campaign for County Surveyor in the primary and never made it to the general election. Thinking about it now, I see where he missed the boat. If only he would have come out and said "Mark Strong will take your guns!!" then maybe he would be the new County Surveyor, ready to give me a high paying patronage job. Live and learn, I guess.

Last but not least, this election has brought home to all of us how important it is to vote and be counted. Hopefully, America has quit electing the guy you would like to have a beer with. Tuesday night, while she was walking on the treadmill, Jenny let out a joyful yell. Pennsylvania was just declared for Obama. What a girl! She knew the importance of Pennsylvania. Eight years ago? No way. Like 53% of America's voters, she has learned an important lesson. One thing troubles me though. In the last eight years, we have endured the 9-11 attacks, the ruination of our economy to give tax cuts to the rich, a disastrous war in Iraq and a near criminal neglect in Afghanistan that has it all screwed up, the acceptance of the use of torture, sacrificing our freedoms for security, the elimination of the Writ of Habeas Corpus and the tremendous greed that brought about the collapse of our economy, the trashing of the stock market and the nationalization of America's largest banks. What does it take for that other 47% to say "Enough is enough". This is the first time in 20 years that a presidential candidate got over 51%. If America wasn't so polarized, it would've been 63%, not 53% this time.

So ends the 2008 election. I hope that all your candidates did good. Thankfully I didn't have to vote for Lucy (Our kitty) for president.

Working with a bunch of clowns!

2008-11-04T20:06:00.010-05:00

Yesterday, I had a train that epitomized my career on the railroad - "Boy, I work with a bunch of clowns!" For the second time in my career, I worked on a circus train. A couple of years ago, I took one from Garrett to Chicago. This one is the Barnum and Bailey Circus blue train. They have 2 trains, the blue one and the red one. The circus ended Sunday in Cleveland and is moving on to Chicago. We got the train at the uptown Amtrak Station and took it to Willard Ohio. With all the waiting we had while the train was being switched up and other delays, we only took it from Cleveland to Willard and another crew brought it to Garrett. This is the engines and the head end of the train. The head car had the horses, the second, third and fourth had the elephants and then there was a bunch of cars with people. This car is the second car of the train and had elephants in it. I was hoping to get some trunks sticking out, like they were in Cleveland, but they didn't cooperate. One thing that was striking about the head 4 cars was that they really, really smelled! The car to the right had people in it. It is sectioned off into little apartments. The trailers on this picture is loaded with all the gear they need to run the circus. There were at least a dozen cars of them with lots of cars and trucks.

I just got called to take a train back to Cleveland. This train isn't as cool as a circus train but we don't have to worry about having hundreds of people and hundreds of animals on board. One embarrassing problem with the circus train was that people had a hard time telling us apart from the clowns and animals!

Oh, I would also like to give an update about the Weight Watchers change in my life. Its not a diet but a change in life styles. As of the end of the third week today, I have lost 13.2 pounds! Hooray!!!!

From Harry to Hairy!

2008-10-10T23:24:00.002-04:00

If you know me, then you know that I do not use the term "bonehead" lightly. I respect the word bonehead and would never, ever use it unless it was absolutely appropriate. The engineer that I am working with now (yesterday's train) is a certified, true blue, gold medal, tried and true, authentic, original, down right All-American, through and through, top of the chart, A number one bonehead. Hoover doesn't make a vacuum like the one that exists between this bozo's ears. I won't bore you with all the details but he's voting Republican in this election because Harry Truman, a Democrat, signed the Taft-Hartley Act in the late '40's! I handed him a flyer, put out by his union, that documented how Mc Clain's plan of taxing his health insurance benefit would cost him over $5000/year in increased taxes and he said that the Democratic Congress wouldn't allow that. He is counting on the Democrats, none of whom he would ever vote for, to save him from Mc Clain's tax policy. Simply amazing!

I had to tell him, twice, that there are two subjects that are forbidden on my train: religion and politics. Now that I have been able to steer the conversation to the railroad (We agreed that its screwed up), the economy (Mutual funds aren't fun anymore), and our kids (mine are perfect, his are bozos), tension has been eased and on one is agitated.

I brought this up to point out that regardless how much you work at it, no matter how hard you try, as long as you breathe, you will be afflicted with boneheads. Truly ignorant people are like cockroaches. There could be a nuclear holocaust and out of the ashes would crawl a bozo who thought "Git-R-Done" was part of the Gettysburg Address. Like cockroaches, they're everywhere! Heck, one's been president for the last 7 and a half years!

In order to insulate myself from them, I fell in love with and married one of the smartest girls I ever met. Even then, my search took me through perilous waters. Even though my sweetie was beautiful and smart, her roommate was not the reddest strawberry on the shortcake! Jen talked to her three months after the start of the first Gulf War and she wasn't aware that there was even a war going on. Every newscast and newspaper for the previous six months talked about nothing but the war and she had no idea what was going on. Even today, her personal life is right out of West Virginia! Amazing.

The sad fact of life is that stupid people don't just hurt themselves, they hurt others too. How about that woman who killed her baby in the microwave. What was she trying to accomplish? I think the state should pay whatever it costs to buy a microwave big enough and give her a dose of her own medicine. Sometimes there is a certain poetic justice that occurs. There was a guy in Fort Wayne who kidnapped, raped and murdered a little girl. When his wife figured out what happened, he murdered her and their three little girls. He dodged the death penalty by plea bargaining for life without parole. Yesterday he hung himself in his cell. Ordinarily I am not a blood thirsty guy but when I read about him, I pumped my fist and said "All Right!" I guess his plea bargain was more than he bargained for.

That is an example of the thread that runs through all aspects of an idiot's life. They don't ask what could go wrong before they do it. A guy I knew in Bloomington, when I was going to IU, got a DUI and bought a moped. That was OK for a couple months until winter brought slick roads. The first time he hit an ice patch and wrecked, he broke his left arm. The second time, he broke his wrist. Then he couldn't ride it because he couldn't give it any gas without his left wrist. A normal person parks the moped when it gets slick out. A dope waits til after he wrecks the first time. The bonehead has to wreck twice!

Politics is much the same. A normal person would have seen what a bozo Bush was in 2000 and voted for Al Gore. A dope wouldn't have been able to see the obvious and would have voted for Bush in 2000. The bonehead, despite the four years of extreme incompetency, would have voted for Bush again in 2004.

Which brings me back to the bonehead I'm working with. He never asked what could go wrong if you elect an idiot president. In the same vein, he isn't questioning the candidacy of a bitter old man and his clueless parrot-like running mate. I can see it now. Mc Clain (God forbid) gets elected and strokes out six months later making Sarah Palin President. The phone rings at Three A.M. Iran has just fired a nuclear missile at Israel. The world wants to know from her "What are you going to do?" She winks and says "I'll just have to get back with you on that one!" and hangs up.

Oh my Lard!

2008-10-10T23:09:00.004-04:00

Those of you who have been reading this blog regularly may have noticed that I have a slight weight problem. As I put it earlier, I currently eat more than I move. Well, that will soon be history! Starting next Monday, yours truly and my lovely wife Jenny are joining Weight Watchers. All my excuses will then be irrelevant. I am going along with this because I'm so fat, its either do this or die too young. Jen is doing this to support my efforts.

So let this be the gauntlet I need to throw down in order to pass that point of no return. I feel that if I make my effort public, then I won't be tempted to cheat or skip exercising. When I reach a milepost, I'll tell you. After all, with Jenny's help I was able to quit smoking. Somehow I was able to scrape up the needed self-discipline and will power to end a 3 and a half pack a day addiction. If I could do that, and I'm extremely proud of it, then I ought to be able to lose 125 pounds. It is much, much easier to exercise, eat properly and responsibly and lose weight than it is to quit the smoking addiction. Look to the left here and you'll see a picture of me next to my son Shane. I promise all of blogdom and all who love me or even sorta like me that I will not quit until I weigh the same of Shane. Knowing him, he would probably gain weight to make it easier for me. If you see me cheat, remind me of this vow. I will thank you!

Bam it all, anyway!

2008-10-10T22:42:00.003-04:00

Hey, I read here where this guy wrote his campaign speech. Can anyone do that? 'Cause I'm running for school board and I can't afford to advertise. My name is "Bam" Boozler and I'm running here in Broken Nose, West Virginia. My real first name is Dewey but they've been calling me "Bam" all my life. I'm running for school board 'cause those sum-bitches kicked my baby girl, Lemon Drop Boozler, outa school and my cousin Grits (short for Gritzen Gravy Boozler) said the only way I was gettin' her back in school was to run the dang thing. Shucks, she didn't really do nothing wrong. They caught her smoking one of those left-handed cigarettes in the girl's john. She didn't buy it from some drug dealer. She picked it out of our garden! I know she drives to school but they have no call kickin' a fifth grader out of school.

I've been to them school board meetings. Should be called school bored! Ain't nothin' but a bunch of eggheads whinin' about their dumb students. I went when my boy, Bam-Bam Boozler, got kicked out for having "Skool Sucks" tattooed on his knuckles. If he would've had six fingers on his left hand, he would've spelled it right. Personally, I liked it. Before we got there, I used a Bic pen to change sucks to socks and they sorried us for making a big stink out of nothin' and little Bam-Bam was back in Junior High.

So, all you folks from Broken Nose, vote for me and not for that egghead I'm running against. You know that me and the rest of the Boozlers are normal people. I played on the Splints football team like the rest of you. Heck, I even played on the JV team, the Bandaids.

I ain't heard of globs or blogs or whatever before cousin Grits told me about this one. When I asked him how he found it, he said he goobled "dumb ass" and found it, whatever that means. I read some of those entries. That bozo ain't bad. He could be mayor of Broken Nose with that speech!

Oaf of Office

2008-09-21T13:37:00.002-04:00

In this election year, I'm sure that you have seen about all the political ads you can stand. I'm sure that most of the politicians running for office have a specific plan to get themselves elected. The ones who know what they're doing get elected and the rest yell for a recount. If you ever listen to them, you would notice that they all have a regular stump speech they give over and over. The real trick to winning is to write a first class stump speech and ride that pony all the way to election day. Good stump speeches can be generic and be used for just about any office sought. Karl Rove is known for supplying Bush with one that got him elected twice. It was a beauty. Made a war hero look like a traitor and a draft dodger look like a patriot. Is America great or what?

I've been giving some thought to what my stump speech would sound like if I ran for office. Maybe something like this:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming today. I am very happy to have this opportunity to talk to you about the upcoming election. My worthwhile opponent couldn't make it tonight. The Communist Party meeting must have ran long. Or, maybe that foreign car of his broke down. Doesn't matter. You probably couldn't understand his slurred speech anyway!

"I want to represent you because I embody your values. I go to a church with a white preacher who doesn't bad mouth the U.S.A. like what's-his-name's does. Every weekend, my church group goes hunting with our automatic rifles before we watch the NASCAR race. My opponent and his PETA friends looked to adopt a skunk before they went to his brother's gay wedding. As you can see, my hair is well groomed while he has a greasy mullet.

"He'll take your gun! I'll go shooting beer cans with you! He'll raise your taxes, I'll spend 'em. He'll do anything to get elected. He even speaks Mexican. I only speak American and if you don't like it, go back to where you came from!

"As you know, my opponent is a lawyer. He's probably chasing an ambulance as we speak. I'm no such thing. I work for a living. It takes real guts to work the night shift at the Quik-Mart! Let my guts work for you too!

"The other day, this bozo I'm running against was whining on and on about the poor education system we got. Heck, my kids got through it O.K. His must be a couple of dopes.

"There's a good reason why my opponent isn't running on his record. Its because his record includes wife beating, kicking his dog and wienie wagging in public. He's been in jail. I've never been caught!

"In conclusion, I'd like you to know that I'm not running for office because I'm power hungry like what's-his-name. I'm only running because it was my mom's wish that one of her boys could make it to the state house instead of the state farm."

Yeah, armed with this baby, I can't lose. I ought to run for Congress because I'd hate to waste this speech on a local election! And, if I run, I have some more great ideas! For the debate, I'll wear a "I'm with Stupid" T-shirt. Maybe change my name to Abraham Lincoln...

I'm near, therefore I am...

2008-09-12T22:39:00.002-04:00

Disclaimer: I know that I said that this would be an apolitical blog. The views here aren't supposed to be political, but comedic.

While I was watching the Republican Convention the other day, CNN was interviewing a Gov. Huntsman (of Utah, I think). This guy was gushing on and on that since Alaska was close to Russia and next to Canada, then Gov. Palin had serious foreign relations credentials, even though she has never left the country! Duh! If being in close proximity of something gives you expertise with it, then I'm wasting my time riding trains! It seems that, using the Republican model, I've assimilated some major knowledge.

For instance, I'm writing this in a motel that's a quarter mile from Midway Airport in Chicago. That makes me an expert on the entire air line industry! (Overbook all flights, gouge the passengers and file bankruptcy whenever its time to negotiate with labor.) On Monday, a jet flew right over me as it was coming in for a landing while I was on my walk. It was close enough to make me able to pilot it! (Full flaps Scotty!)

Last week, I had a check-up and sat in the doctor's waiting room for 25 minutes. I know I "Palined" a ton of medical know-how during the wait. I will be taking appointments next week. I need to ask Gov. Palin, though, if I can write M.D. after my name too. Should be O.K. (That shanker on your butt? Take 2 Advil and say 3 Hail Mary's.)

Sometimes, this philosophy brings more responsibility than I'm willing to accept. On my walk in Chicago, I passed by a place called "Midway Colo-Rectal Clinic". I don't even want to know what I could've learned there! (No, that is not my finger!) I've been to Washington D.C. Doesn't that make me an expert about everything? (WMD really meant: Dubya's a Mean Dude.) I've driven through Nashville so I should know all about Country Music. (Is there a Grandma Jones?) Been to Charlotte, Atlanta, Indy and once drove by Michigan International Speedway so that makes me a NASCAR expert. (Dick Trickle is still my favorite driver!"

But, it seems that even I can't be infused with all the local knowledge of everywhere I go. I was stationed near Boston in the Army. Yet, I still can't explain why they elected Mitt the governor! I've been to New Jersey but don't know the first thing about making mob hits! I've been to Philly but can't explain why they use Cheez-Wiz on the cheesesteaks. I've been to Detroit twice and still can't figure out why it isn't a ghost town. Could it be I didn't "Palin" the information there like I should have? Could it be that the whole "Palin effect" of information gathering is a real crock?

Well, I'll tell you. I've been to Wasilla, Alaska. Two of my brothers used to live there. While I was there, I never had the urge to wear mukluks or say "Ay" at the end of every sentence. I was not infused with any sudden insights about Russia or Canada. How could that be? I should be the foreign relations expert! I should be the Vice Presidential nominee! Oh wait. I was never in a beauty pageant. I hope the governor has the same finish in this beauty pageant that she had in her first one!

Tennessee Travelers

2008-09-01T11:46:00.011-04:00

I know that all of you see me as a workaholic who is all work and no play. I hate to burst your bubble but I just spent a wonderful time in the Smokies with Jenny and all the family. Boy, did I have a good time. The reason is because I didn't have a hand in planning the trip! Here is the great cabin that we rented.

Now, if I had been the one to make the arrangements, the cabin probably would've looked like this. As you can see, the architect of this place probably graduated from Purdue!

Jenny and I were lucky to have our entire family here: Shannon, Mike, Jaden, Shane and Ashley. Frank and the kitties had to stay home and were missed.

When I got home on Sunday, I was more relaxed than when I left on Thursday and isn't that the purpose of a vacation? Also, the time was also spent celebrating my birthday, the 55th annual Maxmas Day. Shannon baked a delicious cake. I officially didn't know that she was baking it. When it comes to playing stupid, I've been told that I'm a natural. Jaden got me a beautiful picture frame (that will go on the table next to my computer) with her picture in it. Shannon and Mike got me a neat "Crean and Crimson" t-shirt and Shane and Ashley got me a cool Tabasco apron. That was a real stroke of genius. By wearing the apron at suppertime (and I will at home) my clothes and new t-shirts won't have all those greasy stains on the front. I don't think this means that Shane and Ashley think I'm a slob. (They know it like every other living being in America!!)

Here is a picture of Shane dancing with Jaden. I'm putting this in here as proof that there are living Teders' who can dance! (Can you read this, Gene?) I believe that I am an excellent dancer. But in order to prevent embarrassment and shame for my family, I have refrained from dancing ever since my wedding reception.

If anyone wants to see the really neat pictures of this vacation, please see the latest posts on Jenny and Shannon's blogs.
Oh by the way, the reason I now have photographs on my blog is because Jenny got me a great digital camera for my birthday. Someday she'll probably kick herself for that one!

He's Pundificent!

2008-08-20T22:53:00.000-04:00

I was watching MSNBC the other day on TV and I noticed the proliferation of election year "Pundits". I thought, "What in the name of Walter Cronkite is a pundit?" It seems they make millions of dollars giving their opinions (usually wrong) about everything politically and otherwise. It seems the only qualification to being a pundit is to stand up and say "I'm a pundit!" Then you hire an agent to let everyone know that you are indeed a pundit and are ready to share your opinion with everyone else. It is my opinion that a pundit's success is more because of a good agent than his superior knowledge. How else could an "Access Hollywood" reject like Bill O'Reilly succeed? So, in order to let the world access my great intellect, I humbly and honorably declare "I am a pundit!"

For you politics junkies cheering about having another pundit to drone on about who McCain will pick to be a Federal Judge or what Obama's free throw percentage is, I have bad news. I am not going to be a political pundit. Heck, you can't spit in Washington without hitting at least one. No, I'm going to be a non-political pundit. Its what I call being a pundit for everyday life. I will give my opinion on any and every subject I'm asked about (and some I'm not). Whether I know anything about that topic is immaterial. The lack of knowledge never stopped O'Reilly! Ask me any question and I'll give you an answer that you can dedicate your life to. If I don't know anything about it, I'll fake it and give you an answer anyway!

Now I know you're asking yourself "Can he really do it?" or more likely "Can that Bozo with the hair growing out of his forehead answer the most perplexing questions in our time?" You bet! I'm ready to dedicate my entire being for a couple minutes every so often to be the pundit America, no, the world needs.

I know it won't be easy. No landmark accomplishment ever is. But with my family behind me (taking advantage of the shade) and little Jaden whispering guidance in my ear, I'm ready. I know I'm going to face naysayers who don't know the depth of my intellect or my ability to spread the bull. So, I'll give my opinion on the defining question of our day. The question, never before answered definitively, will be the first one I punderize. Should the toilet paper hang over the roll or under it? I know you are saying "That's too hard a question!" and "Answer that and our lives turn insignificant!" Yeah, yeah, but when I pundit, I P-U-N-D-I-T!

Here goes. I know that half of you do it one way and the other half do it the other. Read my explanation and you will heartily agree with me. The answer: OVER the roll. Why? Because when the paper hangs under the roll, it lays right against the wall and hands that grab for it will also leave dirt marks on the wall that you will have to clean off. When draped over the roll, the paper stays away from the wall, keeping those grubby hands off the wall and saving you precious cleaning time. You may be asking yourself "Why didn't I think of that?" Because you aren't a pundit!

I'm here to answer your most vexing questions. Say you are expecting a baby girl and want to know whether to name her Rumer, Scout or Tallulah. I'll give you the answer! (None of them, you bonehead! Try Maxine.) If you're the type of person who sold their Atlanta Braves tickets when you heard that Russia invaded Georgia, then you're the type who needs my opinion on your most important matters.

For the time being, my pundit skills will be yours to access FREE of CHARGE! Of course, I'll have to charge the news channels and newspapers for my services. But for Joe or Jane America, I'm free. As a person who has a hard time making even the easiest decision, I'm ready to make your toughest ones. You can reach me at 1-800 UH-DUHHH or at www.noskinoffmyass.duh. If worse comes to worse, leave a comment on the blog.

Another very important function for a pundit is to give the unwarranted and unwanted opinion on just about everything. I can do that. Some of them are just too easy. Hey Brittney, lose the junk in the trunk! Male or female, gray hair looks like crap in a pony tail. I know that spiky, pointy hair is in vogue with guys but if you're over 50, forget it! Gray hair that's all spiky makes you look like some loser who thinks he's cool. Abolish the death penalty and bring back life at hard labor to replace it. Punks today don't fear death nearly as much as they hate hard work! At tax time, when corporations have figured up all their deductions, only let them take the percentage of them equal to the percentage of their products produced in the U.S. It seems to me, when skinny people host cooking shows, the food usually sucks: Crap like pickled herring and sushi tacos with broccoli sprouts and shredded tofu. You know those barbed wire tattoos that are so popular around the upper arms? It gives me the impression that the whole person should be behind barbed wire. Might as well have EEEWWW tattooed on their plumber's butt.

There ought to be an age limit for plastic surgery. Jeez, if Joan Rivers farts, her eyelids flutter! When you're 70, no one expects you to look like a nympho, just act like one. Likewise, when you reach retirement age, you're excused from being fashionable. You never see runway models with walkers for a reason.

Two words that would've given Hillary the nomination: Tanning booth! Presidential candidates should be required to tell how they got their nicknames. Mitt Romney's real first name is Willard. I realize that with a name like Willard, only his family would've voted for him. But Mitt? "Bill" would've gotten him the nomination.

Finally, as I wait for the networks to clamor for my pundit services, I realize that as a pundit, I have an increased self-importance. My farts no longer stink and my opinions are the only ones that count. Isn't that right, Dorothy?"

Next time, bring your friends!

2008-08-11T23:24:00.000-04:00

This morning, as I was shaving at the motel in Chicago, I noticed that an old friend was back. I haven't seen him for at least 5 years and thought that he would never return. Of course, I'm talking about that hair that grows out of the middle of my forehead. The hair that gives Jenny so much joy to pull out. The hair, by its presence only, legitimizes my claim of uniqueness. It also performs other functions. It helps balance out a head that's losing its hair much too quickly. It proves that Jenny hasn't been gazing longingly into my eyes lately because it hangs down above them. If she had seen it, she would have plucked it! Lastly, it says something about my powers of perception when a hair can grow out of the middle of my forehead to a length of over and inch without me noticing it.

Before you start thinking that I'm not very perceptive, hear (read?) me out. I am not a narcissistic person. I've seen my face often enough, I don't make much of an effort to examine it very often. When I shave, my glasses are off. Also, I'm looking under my nose, not over it. When I comb my hair, I'm standing far enough away that single hairs are invisible. As a matter of fact, more of them become invisible every day! (That is, except for all the ones that started growing in and on my ears!)

Some of you are probably thinking that this bozo must live such a mundane life that a hair growing out of the middle of his forehead is a big deal. Well, you're probably right. I better show it off while I can because when Jenny reads this blog, she'll run in here and pluck it!

Similes make me smile!

2008-08-09T00:23:00.001-04:00

Grammar has never been my strong suit. I use ain't way too much and say don't when I should be saying doesn't. Therefore, it won't come as much of a surprise to many folks that the part of the grammar book that I read first was the chapter about similes. A simile is a phrase that is used to describe something instead of adjectives. Instead of saying that some guy has a white, pasty face, I'd say that ol' Casper is whiter'n a nun's rear end. Might not be very couth, but that's never been a burden for me either.

Now, I didn't just wake up one summer day and say "Wow, its hotter'n two rats screwin' in a wool sock!" No, my dad had a saying for just about everything. That's what they're called in our family, sayings. Dad's were sometimes normal and predictable, ("Its hotter'n hell!), so I tried to branch out a little with new sayings. After all, dad had a 30 year head start on me and everyone knew his "sayings".

There are two of dad's sayings that I continue to use that have always confounded Jenny and the kids. The first is "Now you're stepping in tall cotton!" He came up with this because everyone, and I mean everyone, else were saying "Now you're cooking with gas" and "Now you're cooking on the front burner!" It means that, somehow, you're managing to do something the correct way. The other saying is "Show 'em how the hog ate the cabbage!" or "We showed 'em how the hog ate the cabbage". It means "Show 'em how its done" or "We showed them". Everything could always use a little spicing up. Last week, I told Jenny that I ought to get GET 'ER DONE tattooed in big letters on the bottom of my gut and start wearing those shirts that are too small on me. She knew that I wasn't serious, was I? After all, I work with a lot of Appalacian/Americans who would think that is a great idea!

Some of my sayings show my railroad background, like "Its blacker than a trainmaster's heart." A trainmaster is a bottom level supervisor. They usually know very little about the railroad life and are concerned only with being a hard ass so they will get promoted. Some other ones are: "Rougher than a trainmaster's kiss" and "Dumber than a trainmaster's kid." For a railroader, trainmasters make great dupes.

Usually when you decide to live the "saying" lifestyle, you fall into some bad habits. You find a good saying and you beat it to death. I have a few of them. They are my "answer" sayings and I tend to give the same answer every time. You say "How's it going" and I'll answer "Its going. I just don't know how yet!" You say "Have a nice day" and I'll answer "I'll make the heroic effort!" As I go to work, you say "Have a good trip" and I'll answer "Last time I had a good trip was in '86 and I was off work 8 months!" (That's when I dislocated my ankle at work.) You say "Have a safe trip" and I say "Seems to me, any time you trip, how safe can you be?" I have a snappy answer for just about every tired line that people automatically say when they think they're being polite.

I try not to be offensive. I don't say "Colder'n a witch's tit" or anything like that. If I had to come up with a saying, I probably could. As for cold, I'd probably say something like "As cold as a nun's stare at a farting contest." (That's for Fuzzie) I would never mention a well digger's rear end or a brass monkey. You might think that coming up with a good saying is difficult. Its actually pretty easy. I thought of my best lines on the spur of the moment.

I have a number of sayings that can't be shared here. People are just too sensitive now-a-days. You can't tell someone "If my dog looked like you, I'd shave his ass and make him walk backwards" or "Your face could gag a maggot off a meat truck" or "Your pits could make a buzzard puke!" or "You're so ugly, when you were born, the doctor slapped your mom!" Must be that thin skin I was talking about in my last posting. Now its "You're dumber than Bush's energy policy" or "That's scarier than Hillary without her make-up on!" Those are obvious no-brainers!

Old sayings are tired sayings. I believe in modernizing them. Old: "Stiff as a board." New: "Stiffer'n Hef's yard boy." Old: "Dead as a doornail." New: "Dead as a gay Texas gym teacher." Old: "Green as grass." New: "Green as pneumonia snot." Old: "Cold as ice." New: "As cold as Laura Bush at a booger eating contest." and Old: "As slick as snot on an onion." New: "As slick as Monica Lewinsky's cigar."

I'm aware that my use of "sayings" can be rough on my loved ones. After all, how many times can you hear the same old stuff before you want to barf. I've been blessed with a wonderful family who chuckle each time like the first time. That's as rare as a Republican at an NAACP convention, or rarer than Arabs at a hogroast or rarer than front teeth on a hockey team, or...

"You want cheese with that whine?"

2008-08-07T00:28:00.000-04:00

John Mc Clain's now-ex economic advisor, Phil Gramm, said a little while back that the U.S. is not in a recession, we are all just a bunch of whiners. I totally disagree with his first assertion but have to go along with the second.

Our culture had developed two disturbing traits the last ten years or so. First, Americans have developed microscopically thin skin. The cat farts and four strangers demand an apology! This blog posting will probably make alot of people mad. (I'm struggling to write this without saying "P...ed off" or "B..ch".) Jeez, Phil Gramm himself has probably already filed a lawsuit. If its O.K. with everyone, I'll leave this topic for a later date and go on with my rant about the second disturbing trait, whining.

If you read my last posting, then you'll remember about the engineer I used to work with named Bobby. Well, Bobby was a pathelogical whiner. He whined about everything. He was so bad and whined so much that after working with him for a round trip, I fealt like going home and opening my wrists. He makes Dick Cheney seem like Chuckles the Clown!

Let's not confuse whining with complaining. Complaining is O.K. because you are airing out legitimate gripes to the responsible people. Discussing with your neighbor about his dog's habit of crapping in your flower bed isn't whining. Its complaining. Moaning about it to your pastor is whining. Lets say little Shane has a bad habit of, not only cutting some really grizzly farts in public, but he stands on one leg, bending the other leg and cranks the fart out with his arm like an uppercut swing. The initial reaction would be to kick the kid in the butt and whine to his dad. The correct answer should be to whine at the kid and kick his dad in the butt!

I really don't suffer whiners very well. On the railroad, when you have to go somewhere to get a train or need a ride from the train to the motel, they send you a van to haul you around. I had a van driver in Chicago once who whined the whole hour-long trip about how his girlfriend (?) was screwing around behind his back and on and on. She didn't cook. She didn't clean. She didn't work. She didn't recognize his brilliance. He wouldn't even shut up when I faked sleeping! The next day we get the same loser and he starts right in about "the bitch". I interupted him right there. I told him that is obvious that he thinks his pitiful sex life is exciting and interesting but I'm sick of hearing about it and will he please shut up! He whined. I complained. Complaining trumps whining so I won and he shut up. I've learned that you need to be painfully blunt to shut up a serial whiner. "I don't give a f..." will not do the trick. The theory behind my defense against panhandlers works here too. When I see a panhandler coming (in Chicago, I attract them like flies), I'm ready. Just as he's ready to open his mouth, I say "Hey buddy, could you spare a buck for my blind mother?" They'll usually say "F... you" and go on. I'll meet a serial whiner with a "Hey, did I tell you about that shanker on my ass?" He'll just turn around and whine to someone else. My usual line about whiners is "He'd b..ch if someone s..t on his plate!" I'm not quite sure what it means but dad used to say it and if it was good enough for him, its good enough for me.

It seems that in the campaign, Mc Clain has been whining alot lately. "He won't go overseas." "He's overseas too much." "He's flip-flopping." Its his all-out push for the whiner vote!

At work I do a lot of fake whining. Its all a part of my main endeavor at work: Lowering my engineer's expectations. I don't care if I've sat on my rear end for 11 and a half hours and finally have to go out and throw a switch, I grumble "Rawhide the poor conductor" as I go out the engine door. My standard fake whine when the railroad screws something up used to be "Ain't seen nothing like it in 30 years!". After realizing that they make the same mistakes every day, I changed my signature whine to "Ain't seen nothing like it in 2 days!" Some guys I work with have some pretty good signature whines. One that stands out is Brad's. He says "I've been to 2 World Fairs and a goat f..king and I ain't seen nothin' like this before!" All this fake whining has a purpose. In explaining it to a trainee one time, I told him that when you lower your engineer's expectations real low and perform your job at a normal level, he'll be happy with your job performance. But, if you blow off about being the best conductor on the railroad and work at a normal level, he'll be disappointed. Either way, you work normally. One instance has him happy with you and the other not. I'll always leave them happy.

Now that I'm an important blogger and read by a couple of Americans (and Germans looking for compression stockings) every day, I want to use my elevated position in American culture to establish a moratorium on whining! AND, there will be a $1.00 fine for every time you whine. This has a chance to bankrupt some people. Since I outlawed it, then the fines must be paid to my favorite charity, Kate's Cart. Visit www.katescart.com to pay your fines. Take your medicine like a man (or woman) and pay up. Our motto could be "We whine so sick kids can read!" or "Bitching for Books!" I can see it now. Bobby will have a new wing named after him at Mitchell's Books!

Dumbo? He has big ears!

2008-08-02T17:12:00.000-04:00

For personal reasons, I'm not much of a Mel Gibson fan. Its got nothing to do with that Jesus movie or the one about the Aztecs. Its those dang Mad Max movies he made. He didn't even look like a Max. A longhair he-man hero named Max? NOT LIKELY! Maybe his smart sidekick or his pet dingo, yeah. By using the name Mad Max, he has labeled all us Maxes as being mad. Whenever anyone refers to me as Mad Max, I say "No, that's happy Max!" Doesn't work. Before Gibson came around, Maxes were thought of as dependable, hard working and fun-loving brains. Smart and honest. Warm and loving. After all, Max is the most common name for dogs. You know, the friendliest, most loyal species of animals. Not anymore. There's a reason no Saint Max has been proclaimed lately. Can't be both holy and mad.

As I've said before, I don't have a viable nickname. My family members have the normal ones. James is Jim (Not Jimmy!), Gene is Gene and Gerald is Jerry. Linda doesn't have a nickname either. An intelligent one for Linda would be LIN. You know, Linda without the duh! My brother-in-law, Jim, can easily be called James to remove confusion between him and my brother Jim. No one would ever think of calling my brother James.

Some nicknames rescue a kid from a dweeby name. Frances becomes Frank, Melvin is Mel and Alfred and Albert is Al. Delbert is Del or Bert and Maynard is Nards (Shane will get this one!). Some names have no help. Names like Marian (Mary?), Nelson (Nellie?), Abner (Ab?), Percy (Perk?) or Fuzbukt (Fuzzie?). To get a nickname for these guys, see the next paragraph. They alone won't be stigmatized. After all, when you start with Mortimer, ANYTHING is an improvement!

I have around 50 first cousins and as far as I can determine, not one of them has ever had one of those cutesy nicknames that some guys give their sons because they hate children and want to ruin their lives. These are nicknames like Chip or Chipper, Bud (I've got an Uncle Bud but he fits the stereotype!), Junior, Pal, Toots, Punk, Skip, Skipper or Skippy. You may as well tattoo "Hit Me!" on their foreheads.

Even though they aren't nicknames, one thing really gets me. That's when people name a child a kid's name never realizing that the kid will grow up. About 10 years ago I worked on a train with 2 guys. The engineer was 61 and named Bobby and the Conductor was 62 and named Billy. For strike 2, the conductor's middle name was Clinton. No kidding. My niece Cathy had 2 classmates in school who were twins and their first names were Lemonjello and Orangejello. We still have the program with their names on it somewhere at home. Bet they don't turn into Nobel Prize winners!

One way to receive a nickname is to have an unfortunate or embarrassing event in your life. Have a car wreck, you're crash. Have a fat girlfriend, you're Jack Sprat, or fall in the lake and you're Bob. I work with a guy, known by his initials, J.J., who had a problem. He was on a train and was sorta tired. When he yawned, his jaw locked and had to go to the hospital with his mouth wide open! After that, he has been known as Lockjaw. (I call him L.J. instead of J.J.) We had another guy who used to have eyebrow and nose rings with a tongue stud. He's known as tacklebox. One guy got into an arguement with a working girl in front of the hotel in Chicago. Word is he shorted her on her fee. He is quite a bonehead. He ended up slapping her and ended up earning himself the nickname of Chief. Chief? Yeah, he's an Indian now and the Chief of the Slap-a-Ho tribe. One guy is known as Buffy because he has buffalo breath. One guy is an American Indian whose relative is a chief in the Miami tribe. He's known a Chief Short Lance.

I hate it when someone goes by his initials. Jenny wanted to name Shane-o Andrew Joseph and call him A.J. I liked the name. Call him Andy or Drew, but not A.J. I work on the railroad where everyone is referred to by their initials and if you are unfortunate enough to have initials like B.J. or D.M.F. or O.J. you learn to hate initials. I may change my mind about it, though. Ask me in 6 years.

Another lazy nickname that some people are given is a shortening of their last names. Names like Smitty, Jonesy or Teets. Not too fond of that either.

Descriptive nicknames can be cruel. Names like fats, shorty, tubby, tank, slats, lumpy, Dumbo, pokey, bull, one-eye and beanpole. Even worse is using nicknames that are opposite of reality, like shorty for a tall guy, tiny for a fat one or Einstein for an idiot.

Actually, I must admit that one guy at work has a nickname for me (He's the one who came up with Tacklebox). He calls me professor because I'm smart. Compared to him, professor would be a good nickname for my cat.

Young and Restless

2008-07-28T22:40:00.000-04:00

My lovely wife, Gramma J, thinks that I'm going to be writing an entry on growing old. She told me the other day about signing me up for AARP. In the normal realm of blogdom, I would then be expected to give the lowdown about growing old. Thats if I exhibited the symptoms of aging, and I don't! I'll prove it to you.
Old people talk about their ailments. I don't. Jeez, when I got together with my 3 OLDER brothers and my OLDER sister last weekend, all they talked about was politics and pains. I didn't once mention my really painful left heel or my diabetes or my really low chloresterol. They all talked about these vitamins and those supplements but I never mentioned the Omega-3 fish oil capsules, Centrum Silver and low-dosage aspirin I take every day. You see, I don't act like a geezer.
Old people wear alot of hats to cover their thinning hair. Don't want to burn the bald spot. Hehe. My hair may be thinning a little (nothing like my cousin Kevin or ol' FUZBUKT) but not to where I have to wear a hat. I can still joke with my older friends. "Its not that you have less hair to comb, you have more face to wash!" or "You know that every hair that falls out takes brain cells with it, don't you? I know a couple guys who are one hair wash away from retardation!" Oh, I did get a neat Reds road cap the other day. Finally found one that fit.
Old guys will walk down the street with shorts and black knee socks on. What a hoot. When I wear my compression stockings, I wear long pants.
Need more proof? Old guys hit from the white tees, I hit from the blues. Old people drive Buicks and Mercury Marquises (hear that Jim T), I drive a Bronco II. Old guys have Velcro on their tennies, mine ties. Geezers listen to Sinatra and Johnny Matthes, I listen to Elvis and the Bee Gees. Old guys eat flats, I eat drummettes. They like Mc Cain, I prefer Obama. They use Bon Ami, I use Soft Scrub. They visit the facilities, I take a dump. They eats soft food, I eat cracklins. They use Duz, I use Tide. They use Brylcream, I use mousse. They buy Cat Chow, I buy Deli Cat. They read Hustler, I read Maxim. They gum, I gnaw. They go toodle, I piss. They watch Regis, I watch Kelly. They do jigsaws, I do crosswords. They do Sudoku, I do Kukuru. They're OG, I'm UG. They wheeze, I used to cough. They pee on their shoes, I pee on the toilet seat. They use snow-blowers, I shovel. They like Carson, I like Letterman. They eat cauliflower, broccoli, brussel sprouts, kohlrabi, parsnips, turnips, green peppers, celery, carrots and cucumbers. I eat corn. They drink buttermilk. I would die of thirst first. They eat livers, I eat gizzards. They play checkers, I play Minesweeper (Got a 92 on expert!). Last, but not least, they hang around old ladies whereas I chill with my young trophy wife, Jenny.
So you see, I'm not old. Just because I can remember 18 cent a gallon gas, 2 for 21 cents bread and the Interurban tracks that ran along Cowen Street extended doesn't mean that I'm old. I just have a good memory.

Fat flip-flopping fun!

2008-07-24T02:27:00.000-04:00

President Bush firmly believes that the worse thing a person could do in life is change his mind. That would make them a "Flip-flopper". That must stem from the fact that he has such a narrow mind, there's no room to maneuver. Personally, I believe that changing one's mind is an admirable trait. If you receive some information that alters a previously held belief, then a reasonably intelligent person will change that belief to correspond with the new information.
I'll give an example. Last Thursday I was wearing a gray t-shirt. When I got called to work, I'd only had it on for 20 minutes or so. Sam, my regular engineer, was off for a doctor's appointment and I was told that my engineer for this trip would be Uncle Strawberry. Whenever I work with Strawberry, we make tons of money. Dispatchers don't seem to want to run our train and we sit at red signals racking up the overtime. Its gotten so that when I work with him, I not only wear a green t-shirt (green as in greenbacks) but I pack a green one for the next day also. So after I took my call, I changed my mind about wearing the gray t-shirt and put on a green one.
Now, that may not sound like a life altering occurence to some of you, but it was quite stressful for me. You see, that one little decision turned me into a "FLIP-FLOPPER"! Some people could just slough off that stigma, but not me. I'm much too sensitive about political correctness and about the feelings of strangers for that. And Jen thinks that my job is low stress. Hah!
To change the subject (which is not flip-flopping), I have decided to address a subject that is considered to be a scourge of modern civilization: FAT. As you know if you read my last posting, I'm big boned. Queen Latifah calls it being wide. I like to think of it as being horizontally challenged. I don't have a beer guy, I ate this one on. Little did I know when I started evolving into a tub what a drag on the American Economy I was becoming. There was a study out last year that said obesity costs ALL Americans over $6 billion the year before in health costs. Don't blame me. I have health insurance. Blame the POOR fat guy. I think skinny people are just mad because food prices are higher because of shortages caused by us fat guys mowing down on the supplies. Throw a bag of potato chips into a room full of lard-asses and you'll learn about supply and demand pretty quickly.
The thing that has me concerned is that that study about the $6 billion cost of fat people is just the first shot over the bow. That's how it started with smokers. Some non-smoker came up with a study how smokers cost all of us over $5 billion a year in health costs. Then it soon became OK to act however prejudicial you wanted to against smokers. Its got so bad, one company, US Gypsum, doesn't allow their employees to smoke OFF the job in their own homes. If an employee tests positive for nicotine in a urine test, they're fired! That same fervor that non-smokers exhibited in the smoking wars is now rearing its ugly head in the war against obesity. Pretty soon, it will be OK to disregard the rights of fat people, making them non-entities like smokers. After all, watching a fat guy scarf down 2 dozen hot wings and a large order of fries could cause irrepairable harm to an impressionable young child. Watching a fat woman enjoying a banana split may cause kids to want that type of love and enjoyment in their lives too. Soon, restaurants in Fort Wayne will only be allowed to serve dessert in walled off rooms and convenience stores will quit selling Twinkies to anyone under 18.
Whereas non-smokers think smoking is just a habit and not an addiction, skinny people think that their heftier brethren are fat because they are lazy and lack self-control. All I know is my current heft was not caused by laziness or lack of self control. It happened because, as a little kid, I was once scared by a skinny guy!
I think that Jenny once told me that bloggists don't like to read about 2 different subjects in one posting. Here I am, in only my second posting writing about 2 subjects. I was so ashamed until I found out that that scary skinny guy was also a FLIP-FLOPPER!!!

Introduction

2008-07-18T23:35:00.000-04:00

Hello all you blogospheroids, I am now one of you! I have begun my journey into 21st Century life in America. If and when I get a MySpace page with 1000 friends, an IPOD with 5,000 songs and an electric car, I will be a child of the 21st Century. Please don't hold your breaths. I'm doing this because my lovely wife and my charming daughter get so much joy from blogging. I could use some of that joy too.

I am thought of differently by the diverse group of people who know me. At work, I'm the hard charging go-getter who is quick with a joke and a kind word. To my kids, I'm the guy that allows them to take advantage of me whenever they want. I would do any and everything for them. To my wife, I'm that lump she has to sweep around and occasionally spray with Lysol. I have different names depending on who is referring to me. I'll list some and give a little clarification of each. I will not include the ones like "dumb ass" and "s... for brains". After all, this is a Christian blog.

1. Max. That's my name, Max Joseph Teders. Paul and Eleanor's baby boy. I was the fifth kid, fourth boy. Mom once told me that she would have named me James, except one of my older brothers already had that name. Yep, I could've been James Darryl Teders! Mom's doctor had a son named Max (who later became her doctor also). I don't think that I was named after him but I think that's where the folks heard of and fell in love with the name MAX. One guy at work once asked me if I had a nickname. My name is 3 letters long. Its already been nicked all it can be.

2. Dad. I'm called this by two of the most remarkable people that I have ever known: My daughter Shannon and my son Shane. They are smart, witty, kind and generous, hard working, industrious and beautiful. In other words, chips off the old block! When I look back to my childhood and teenage years, I realized that I have been extremely blessed and luckier than an oilman with a Republican President!

3. Husband. The day that God made my life complete was August 1, 1981. That day Jenny and I got married. I love her more than life itself. I am, indeed, the luckiest man in the world.

4. Conductor. The catchy name of the blog hints about a connection with trains. I work on freight trains between Garrett, Indiana, and Chicago. My family has no clue as to what I do, where I go and how I do it. When I would start to talk about the road, their eyes would glaze over and they'ld change the subject. I spend around 2/3 of my life at work and to truly know me, you need to have to be somewhat aware of my life at work. I may tell you all about it someday. I may not.

5. Me. I'll soon be 55 years old, on MAXMAS day, August 21st. I refer to myself as being horizontally challenged. Got a gut. Don't want it. I currently move less than I eat. Ideally, I'd like to lose a hundred pounds. The person who comes up with a safe and easy way to do that will win the Nobel Prize, his book will win a Pulitzer and the movie about him will win an Oscar. He'd be the Al Gore of diets. I like to think of myself as a nice guy. Actually, being thought of as a nice guy is what I have always strived for.

6. Liberal. The L word. We must be there for the children. Give them hope for the future that will enable them to fulfill their dreams. The only thing worse than not caring for our children is taking away their hope. One thing that you can be assured of is that I would vote for a kitten for president before I'd vote for a Republican.

In 55 years, I am sorta set in my ways. To Jenny's amazement, I don't really care for reality shows on TV. The people on those shows aren't the people I see every day. The reality of life in America is the family struggling to get by. Not Rob and Amber. I can't keep up with shows that are serials because of my work schedule. I have found that my favorite shows are documentaries. The History Channel and NatGeo rule! The very best ones are the sports documentaries by Bud Greenspan and HBO. The actor Liev Schreiber narrate both the Greenspan and HBO shows. If he's narrating, I'll watch. I'll watch MSNBC or CNN if there's nothing else on. Countdown with Keith Olbermann is the best news show on TV, bar none.
As for music, I've been stuck in the 60's and early 70's for the last 35 years. Lately, though, I've been listening to Majic 95.1 alot. Green Day rules! Jenny has taken a liking to country music lately. I like the catchy tunes but can leave the rest. I like some classical stuff, mostly Mozart and Overtures.
I like to read, mostly mysteries, almost always fiction. There are a couple books that I've read more than 10 times. Poor reading comprehension rules!
Last but surely not least is the newest member of my family, Jaden. The prettiest little girl in the world. With the gene pool she received from her mom and dad, this little girl will someday make the world a better place.
I haven't mentioned many of the people who have shaped my life and are meaningful in it now. Maybe later I'll write about them. Really dish the dirt. Tell where the bodies are buried. Write History! Then again, maybe not.