The Old Man and the c:\

REDNECK HOME & GARDEN

2007-12-10T12:19:00.000-06:00

Our dear good friend, Delightful Doris (aka Frau Helga) has long been a fan of her adopted country (she is Deutchland-born) but of late seems to have been steeping herself in our Redneck culture.

What seems to have done it was our picture of the redneck grill a couple of weeks ago (a toilet with the bowl filled with charcoal and the grill laid across the top). Said she was going to have to look at making one of those as the centerpiece of her backyard.

As an aid to the (unique?) thinking processes of our latest Redneck, here are some other ideas.

THE DEACON’S MASTERPIECE

2007-12-09T14:48:00.000-06:00

Beyond Ogden Nash, I’ve had precious little interest in poetry – and when “free verse” came along, that finished me off.

Oliver Wendell Holmes must’ve felt the same way; in his voluminous writings, there’s only about 7 or 8 poems (he may’ve been the one who said, “There’s one saving grace to my prose: it could always be verse”).

I read the following in grammar school, in Chicago and, for some strange reason, it’s always stuck in my mind, lousy memory and all. Yet, for all that impact on me, I’ve never run across anyone else who’s ever heard of it, let alone read it.
Let me share it with you. It’s cute, catchy, has a novel premise and, as a bonus, gives us a pretty accurate picture of language circa 1800.

Enjoy!

The Deacon's Masterpiece; or The Wonderful "One-Hoss Shay"
A Logical Story

Have you heard of the wonderful one-horse shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it--ah but stay, I'll tell you what happened without delay, Scaring the parson into fits, Frightening people out of their wits, Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five, Georgius Secundus was then alive, Snuffy old drone from the German hive. That was the year when Lisbon-town Saw the earth open and gulp her down And Braddock's army was done so brown, Left without a scalp to its crown. It was on the terrible Earthquake-day That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, There is always somewhere a weakest spot, -In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,--lurking still, Find it somewhere you must and will,--Above or below, or within or without,--And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, That a chaise breaks down, but doesn't wear out.

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou,") He would build one shay to beat the taown'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; It should be so built that it couldn' break daown,"Fur," said the Deacon, "It's mighty plain Thut the weakes' place mus' Stan' the strain; 'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, Is only jest T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk Where he could find the strongest oak, That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke, That was for spokes and floor and sills; He sent for lancewood to make the thins; The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees. The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese, But lasts like iron for things like these;The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum,"--Last of its timber,--they couldn't sell 'em, Never an axe had seen their chips, And the wedges flew from between their lips, Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too, Steel of the finest, bright and blue; Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide Found in the pit when the tanner died. That was the way he "put her through." "There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew!"

Do! I tell you, I rather guess She was a wonder, and nothing less! Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, Deacon and deaconess dropped away, Children and grandchildren--where were they? But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; -it came and found The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound.Eighteen hundred increased by ten;--"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then. Eighteen hundred and twenty came;--Running as usual; much the same.Thirty and forty at last arrive,And then come fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE.

Little of all we value here Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer. In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, So far as I know but a tree and truth.(This is a moral that runs at large;Take it.--You're welcome.--No extra charge.FIRST of NOVEMBER,--the Earthquake-day--There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, A general flavor of mild decay, But nothing local, as one may say. There couldn't be,--for the Deacon's art Had made it so like in every part That there wasn't a chance for one to start. For the wheels were just as strong as the thins, And the floor was just as strong as the sills, And the panels just as strong as the floors And the whipple-tree neither less nor more, And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore, And spring and axle and hub encore. And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt In another hour it will be worn out!

First of November, 'Fifty-five! This morning the parson takes a drive.Now, small boys, get out of the way! Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay."Huddup!" said the parson.--Off went they.The parson was working his Sunday's text,--Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed At what the--Moses--was coming next.

All at once the horse stood still, Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill. First a shiver, and then a thrill, Then something decidedly like a spill,--And the parson was sitting upon a rock, At half past nine by the meet'n'-house clock--Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!

What do you think the parson found, When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground! You see, of course, if you're not a dunce, How it went to pieces all at once, All at once, and nothing first, Just as bubbles do when they burst.

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. Logic is logic. That's all I say.

-THE END-

A BIT OF THIS, A BIT OF THAT …

2007-12-08T09:10:00.000-06:00

In no particular order of importance, neither Karen nor I were 100% accurate in yesterday’s event forecasting. Seems there WAS another alternative, and Michael, my oncologist, took it.

Yeah, my blood count was down, but not quite enough to justify a full-blown transfusion, so a blood picker-upper was injected. No, not Procrit (we’ve already established that, in my body, at least, it does about as much good as sterile saline), but something else that’s supposed to just as good, if not better. Two weeks of this stuff – taking us to the Friday before Christmas – and then we’ll see.

Speaking of the Friday before Christmas, that’s when our kids from Ohio are supposed to get to town for our brief Xmas celebration together. They’ll be gone by Sunday evening, back to Ohio. Son Tracey is adamant that he, his wife, Sharon, and urchin Kayla always spent Christmas in their own home, and I can’t say as how I blame him for that. In the many years of my former marriage, we spent TWO Christmases in our home. The rest of the time, it was a trek to central coastal South Carolina, to Gramma and Grampa’s, and I don’t care WHERE our home was at the time.

I cherish the memories of those two Christmases..

Speaking of my “natural born chilluns,” they’ve had birthdays. Daughter Carla turned FORTY-FOUR on 11/25, and son, Michael, turned 42 – or, as he prefers it, the 21st anniversary of his 21st birthday.

If all one leaves behind is a genetic legacy, I got a couple of good ones.

Michael, incidentally, is a computer wunkie, as is his sister. In my note to him, I expressed my intense displeasure with the new Vista operating system. He agrees with me: “Stay away from it,” saith he.

And, finally, but by NO means lastly, got another phone call from Mary last night, once more checking on my health.

Mary’s an interesting gal all by herself (I’ll have to re-run a piece I did on her last year sometime); she is, for the benefit of you quilters, owner of Zoe’s Trunk in suburban Phoenix.

She also makes most of the big quilt expositions (Paducah, etc). If you go to these, keep an eye out and say Hi!

More later, dudes and dudettes.

BEHIND THE SEENS

2007-12-07T05:56:00.000-06:00

DO YOU KNOW WHAT SANTA LOOKS LIKE.IN THE SUMMER?

NO ???

Sorta takes the joy out of Christmas... doesn't it..?

La-La Land

2007-12-06T14:02:00.000-06:00

Mary called from Phoenix this morning, just inquiring as to whether I was in the hospital or just dead. Reason for asking? No entries here on the blog: that’s her trigger.

Blessed child.

No, the truth of the matter is that I was in La-La Land.

It went like this: I was alright after last Friday’s chemo, and then through the weekend. On Monday, my get-up-and-go began to get up and go. Finally, yesterday (Wednesday) morning, I had one of my spells, one of those where you go into a coughing and sneezing jag and, somewhere in the back of your mind, is the knowledge that you’re going to upchuck.

THIS time I took that faint mental niggle to heart and grabbed my trash can. Again, two small spasms producing little in the way of liquid. Meanwhile, Karen administered one of my “emergency” Finegran (sp??) tablets. These nice little tablets have two effects: one is to kill any nausea and, two, put you to sleep.

And that’s what I’ve done mostly for the last 24+ hours: sleep. It’s what I want to do now, but I need to finish and post this.

Tomorrow is chemo day again. Karen’s money is on them slapping me in the back in the hospital for a couple of short days, giving me at least one unit of whole blood, plus my chemo.

We’ll see. In the meantime, if you don’t see me on here Friday or Saturday, that’s probably what’s happened.

P.S. Major trauma: I finally got rid of what’s been left of my mustache. It’s the first time Karen’s ever seen me like that.

Have a good day, my friends.

LEARN FROM TV

2007-12-04T09:44:00.000-06:00

I am passing this on to you because it definitely works, and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives.By following simple advice heard on the Dr. Phil show, you too can find inner peace. Dr. Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started and have never finished."

So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished, and before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos and a box of chocolates. You have no idea how freaking good I feel.

Please pass this on to those whom you think might be in need of inner peace.

CHARLES SCHULZ WISDOM

2007-12-03T09:59:00.000-06:00

This came into my hands some time ago. Rather than hold on to it like a miser, this seemed like a good day to Share.

A whole stack of memories never equal one little hope.

All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt.

Aunt Marion was right... Never marry a musician, and never answer the door.

Big sisters are the crabgrass in the lawn of life.

Decorate your home. It gives the illusion that your life is more interesting than it really is.

Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. It is already tomorrow in Australia.

I have a new philosophy. I'm only going to dread one day at a time.

I know the answer! The answer lies within the heart of all mankind! The answer is twelve? I think I'm in the wrong building.

I love mankind; it's people I can't stand.

I think I've discovered the secret of life - you just hang around until you get used to it.

If I were given the opportunity to present a gift to the next generation, it would be the ability for each individual to learn to laugh at himself.

Life is like a ten speed bicycle. Most of us have gears we never use.

Life is like an ice-cream cone, you have to lick it one day at a time.

My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet I'm happy. I can't figure it out. What am I doing right?

No problem is so formidable that you can't walk away from it.

Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.

Sometimes I lie awake at night, and ask, 'Where have I gone wrong?' Then a voice says to me, 'This is going to take more than one night.'

That's the secret to life... replace one worry with another.

The way I see it, it doesn't matter what you believe just so you're sincere.

There's a difference between a philosophy and a bumper sticker.

Try not to have a good time... this is supposed to be educational.

Yesterday I was a dog. Today I'm a dog. Tomorrow I'll probably still be a dog. Sigh! There's so little hope for advancement.

--Charles M. Schulz

2007-12-02T08:40:00.000-06:00

MEDICAL UPDATE

Since I haven’t mentioned this for a few days, I probably should bring you up to date.

This past Friday was chemo day again, a regular event in my life till further notice. No fuss. Go in, get my blood tested in the lab, then next door where I climbed into my favorite leather recliner. I plugged my Bose headphones into my iPod, nurse Dovie plugged the IV into my port, I turned the music on and proceeded to go to sleep for the next two hours.

Originally, I wasn’t sure whether I was going to make the session or not; my strength had been going downhill all week, until Karen staged an oxygen inspection on Wednesday … and found a sharp, if hidden, kink in the line. I’m not sure if that was causing the problem or not, but I DO know there was a definite improvement in my condition Thursday and Friday.

I’d had a couple of minor, non-heart related problems earlier in the week. They both seemed to follow coughing/sneezing attacks and demonstrated itself by making me throw up. This is annoying on several counts. To begin with, you’ve got about two seconds warning, and then you don’t know if it’s going to be a tablespoon’s worth (the usual) or a teacup. I had sessions of both kind. These were neither preceded nor followed by attacks of nausea. The problem was over by the time poor Karen got my mess cleaned up.

I ate a little lunch, then proceeded to sleep until 5:30, when she woke me up for supper (homemade corned beef and cabbage, both the cabbage and potatoes steamed!). Then I got wired and it was 11:30 before I packed it in.

One of the most annoying aspects of this whole experience has been to admit that my capacity for doing things for myself has gone seriously downhill. Karen is having a ramp built off our front porch next week so she can get me to the car in my transport chair (smaller and lighter than a wheel chair, and easier to get in and out of the trunk). No self-propelled wheels, either.

Oh, well.

On a somewhat brighter front, we’re decorated for Christmas – at least as decorated as we’re going to get. Now, we’ve got to see if the kids get down here from Ohio for a day or two and pick up all their loot.

More news as it occurs.

MEMO TO BILL GATES

2007-12-01T08:06:00.000-06:00

Dear Willie:

Back in the early and mid-80s, back when MS-DOS was still locked up in your dorm-mate’s brain, junior grade geeks like me were having a whale of a good time with the Commodore-64. My watch today probably has more computing power than the 64K in the C-64 yet, with true ingenuity, program writers managed to put together software that let me write letters, do billing for my department at work, etc., etc.

It got even better as they went from tape storage to discs, even two disc drives daisy-chained together, a little something not available on the PC until the USB port was “discovered.”

Having taken the hardware about as far as it could be taken, they started working on the software, with a wondrous cornucopia of games and work programs.

And then, one day, they realized they’d taken it to be point of total usability; how to make more money was now the problem. Solution? Refine what you’ve already written, make it “better,” make updates salable.

As I defined the situation, they refined their software to the point of unusability.

Bill, I know your guys in Seattle are a little disturbed that the world hasn’t beaten a path to your sales outlets’ door, demanding a copy of Vista.

Nothing complicated, Willie. XP was an ideal operating system. Vista has “improved” the process to the point of unusability.

Say what?

Let’s look at a couple of items here. First, Random Access Memory (RAM). I have XP Pro on everything except this new Dell 1521 notebook. My old Toshiba laptop has 200 megs of RAM; my two five-year-old desktops have a total RAM capacity of 512 megs. In reality, one has 256, the other 387. All three work just ducky on XP Pro.

Pretty damn fast, too.

Vista? You guys want a minimum of one GIGABYTE of RAM; two would be even better. My desktops can’t expand beyond 512; I’d have to install a new motherboard and BIOS in order to run Vista as your company recommends.

Ain’t gonna happen, Jack!

And for what this muss, fuss and feathers? You’ve put a bunch of features in here that, for some of us, are actually a hindrance.

For instance, the Start menu. I chose the “Classic” choice for the format … only to discover that it was Classic in the sense that it was the crapped up original from XP, not Ditto Windows Explorer, perhaps the handiest tool in Windows, and always hidden away.

Finding things on this otherwise-wonderful program is close
to worthless, not to mention impossible. As for networking … it really doesn’t want to recognize two of my net machines – until another program, like Word, a opens a file on one of the “missing” machines.

Speaking of retrieving files … who in their right mind told you that us old farts wanted our files/photos opened if our cursor rested on it for 5 or 10 seconds. Now, you youngsters with good eyesight and reflexes exercised by the latest murder-oriented video game .. but there are those of us take that much time trying either read the file names or, for that matter, remember what it was we were trying to find in the first place.

Bill, if you need to make money, knock the price of XP Pro to around $200 (‘stead of the present price of +-$300 – for that matter, how about a Senior Discount? Yeah, the students getting discounts have longer to buy programs in their lifetimes, but we’ve got less time in enjoy the ones we DO manage to buy out of our Social Security) .. then charge a nominal feed for updates and service packs. I would be happy to pay $50 for SP 4 … but not if you’re going to step-by-step take it in the direction of Vista clones. Let Vista find its own uninformed super-gamer audience.

But don’t hold a gun to my head trying to force me into an OS I don’t respect, let alone like.

Just a few thoughts, Willie.

--t--

INTERESTING LESSON

2007-11-30T15:56:00.001-06:00

Thanks, Daffy Dan, for this to-the-point story.

There was a chemistry professor in a large college that had some exchange students in the class.

One day while the class was in the lab, the Prof noticed one young man (exchange student) who kept rubbing his back and stretching as if his back hurt. The professor asked the young man what was the matter. The student told him he had a bullet lodged in his back. He had been shot while fighting communists in his native country, who were trying to overthrow his country's government and install a new communist government.

In the midst of his story he looked at the professor and asked a strange question: Do you know how to catch wild pigs? The professor thought it was a joke and asked for the punch line.

The young man said this was no joke. You catch wild pigs by finding a suitable place in the woods and putting corn on the ground. The pigs find it and begin to come everyday to eat the free corn.

When they are used to coming every day, you put a fence down one side of the place where they are used to coming. When they get used to the fence, they begin to eat the corn again and you put up another side of the fence. They get used to that and start to eat again.

You continue until you have all four sides of the fence up with a gate in the last side. The pigs, which are used to the free corn, start to come through the gate to eat; you slam the gate on them and catch the whole herd. Suddenly the wild pigs have lost their freedom.

They run around and around inside the fence, but they are caught. Soon they go back to eating the free corn. They are so used to it that they have forgotten how to forage in the woods for themselves, so they accept their captivity.

The young man then told the professor that is exactly what he sees happening to America. The government keeps pushing us toward Communism/socialism and keeps spreading the free corn out in the form of programs such as supplemental income, tax credit for unearned income, tobacco subsidies, dairy subsidies, payments not to plant crops, welfare, medicine, drugs, etc. While we continually lose our freedoms - a little at a time.

One should always remember there is no such thing as a free lunch. Also, you can never hire someone to provide a service for you cheaper than you can do it yourself.
If you see that all of this wonderful government help is a problem confronting the future of democracy in America, you might want to send this on to your friends. If you think the free ride is essential to your way of life, then you will probably ignore this, but God help you when the gate slams shut!

GOOD TIP

2007-11-29T07:48:00.000-06:00

Our good, dear friend, Daffy Dan (the Scourge of the NW woods) occasionally comes up with something rational, such as this note:

I just sent a card; hope you will also, and send this message on!

Something cool that Xerox is doingIf you go to this web site, www.LetsSayThanks.com you can pick out a thank you card and Xerox will print it and it will be sent to a soldier that is currently serving in Iraq . You can't pick who gets it, but it will go to some member of the armed services.How AMAZING it would be if we could get everyone we know to send one!!! This is a great site. Please send a card. It is FREE and it only takes a second.Whether you are for or against the war, our guys and gals over there need to know we are behind them...

I’ve spent a Christmas in uniform, in a foreign country. I’ve seen guys so homesick on the occasion that they broke down and cried.

Help.

TIPS FOR TIPPLERS

2007-11-28T09:00:00.000-06:00

With the holiday party season coming up, thanks to Betty Boop, we offer the following guide to alcoholic myopia:

If you can read this without laughing or you can't relate to any of it, you’ve never lived in my world.

One Star Hangover (*)

No pain. No real feeling of illness. You're able to function relatively well. However, you are still parched. You can drink 5 cokes and still feel this way. For some reason, you are craving a steak & fries.

Two Star Hangover (**)

No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay, but you have the mental capacity of a staple gun. The coffee you are chugging is only increasing your rumbling gut, which is still tossing around the fruity pancake from the 3:00 AM Waffle House excursion. There is some definite havoc being wreaked upon your bowels.

Three Star Hangover (***)

Slight headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely not productive. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the flavored schnapps shots your alcoholic friends dared you to drink. Life would be better right now if you were home in your bed watching Lucy reruns. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 3 iced teas and a diet Coke--yet you haven't peed once.

Four Star Hangover (****)

Life sucks. Your head is throbbing. You can't speak too quickly or else you might puke. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but that can't hide the fact that you only shaved one side of your face. For the ladies, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the bumper cars. Your eyes look like one big red vein, and even your hair hurts. Your ass is in perpetual spasm, and the first of about five shits you take during the day brings water to the eyes of everyone who enters the bathroom.

Five Star Hangover (*****)

You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits in the next cube. Vodka vapor is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth in an attempt to get the remnants of the poop fairy out. Your body has lost the ability to generate spit so your tongue is suffocating you. You don't have the foggiest idea who the hell the stranger was passed out in your bed this morning. Any attempt to take a dump results in a fire hose like discharge of alcohol-scented fluid with a rare 'Floater' thrown in. The sole purpose of this 'Floater' seems to be to splash the toilet water all over your ass. Death sounds pretty good about right now...

THINGS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK:
Indubitably; Innovative; Preliminary; Proliferation; Cinnamon

THINGS THAT ARE VERY DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK: Specificity; British Constitution; Passive-aggressive disorder; Loquacious; Transubstantiate

THINGS THAT ARE DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK: 1.) Thanks, but I don't want to have sex.
2.) Nope, no more booze for me.
3.) Sorry, but you're not really my type.
4.) Good evening officer; isn't it lovely out tonight?
5.) Oh, I just couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing.
6.) Sorry I'm being such a jackass.

Hope this helps.

Newest Darwin Awards

2007-11-27T06:08:00.001-06:00

Yes, it's again that magical time of the year when the
Darwin Awards are bestowed, honoring the least evolved among us.

Here is the glorious Winner:

1. When his 38 - caliber revolver failed to fire at his intended victim during a hold-up in Long Beach , California , would-be robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder. He peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again. This time it worked.

And now, the Honorable Mentions:

2. The chef at a hotel in Switzerland lost a finger in a meat-cutting machine and submitted a claim to his insurance company. The company, expecting negligence, sent out one of its men to have a look for himself. He tried the machine and he also lost a finger. The chef's claim was approved.

3. A man who shoveled snow for an hour to clear a space for his car during a blizzard in Chicago returned with his vehicle to find a woman had taken the space...understandably, he shot her.

4. After stopping for drinks at an illegal bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the 20 mental patients he was supposed to be transporting from Harare to Bulawayo had escaped. Not wanting to admit his incompetence, the driver went to a nearby bus stop and offered everyone waiting there a free ride. He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling the staff that the patients were very excitable and prone to bizarre fantasies. The deception wasn't discovered for 3 days.

5. An American teenager was in the hospital recovering from serious head wounds received from an oncoming train. When asked how he received the injuries, the lad told police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he was hit.

6. A man walked into a Louisiana Circle-K, put a $20 bill on the
counter, and asked for change. When the clerk opened the cash drawer, the man pulled a gun and asked for all the cash in the register, which the clerk promptly provided. The man took the cash from the clerk and fled, leaving the $20 bill on the counter. The total amount of cash he got from the drawer: $15. (If someone points a gun at you and gives you money, is a crime committed?)

7. Seems an Arkansas guy wanted some beer pretty badly. He decided that he'd just throw a cinder block through a liquor store window, grab some booze, and run. So he lifted the cinder block and heaved it over his head at the window. The cinder block bounced back and hit the would-be thief on the head, knocking him unconscious. The liquor store window was made of Plexiglas. The whole event was caught on videotape.

8. As a female shopper exited a New York convenience store, a man grabbed her purse and ran. The clerk called 911 immediately, and the woman was able to give them a detailed description of the snatcher. Within minutes, the police apprehended the purse snatcher. They put him in the car and drove back to the store. The thief was then taken out of the car and told to stand there for a positive ID. To which he replied, "Yes, officer, that's her. That's the lady I stole the purse from."

9. The Ann Arbor News crime column reported that a man walked into a Burger King in Ypsilanti , Michigan , at 5 a.m. , flashed a gun, and demanded cash. The clerk turned him down because he said he couldn't open the cash register without a food order. When the man ordered onion rings, the clerk said they weren't available for breakfast. The man, frustrated, walked away.

****** A 5-STAR STUPIDITY AWARD WINNER*****

10. When a man attempted to siphon gasoline from a motor home parked on a Seattle street, he got much more than he bargained for. Police arrived at the scene to find a very sick man curled up next to a motor home near spilled sewage. A police spokesman said that the man admitted to trying to steal gasoline and plugged his siphon hose into the motor home's sewage tank by mistake. The owner of the vehicle declined to press charges, saying that it was the best laugh he'd ever had.

In the interest of bettering humankind, please share these with your friends and family, unless of course one of these 10 individuals by chance is a distant relative or long lost friend. In that case, be glad they are distant, and hope they remain lost

Forget something?

PUN OF THE YEAR AWARD NOMINEE

2007-11-26T07:46:00.000-06:00

From my dear good friend, Tony (aka The Italian Stallion):

Italian Dinner

Two vampires were sitting around their castle in Transylvania talking about how they were tired of the local food. Both of them were of the opinion that Italian food would be a nice change. So, they changed into bats and winged their way over to Italy.

They set themselves down in Venice and went looking for their dinner. Soon, they found a nice dark bridge over a canal to have their meal.

They hunkered down and waited. In no time, an Italian couple came floating down the waterway. As they passed under the bridge, the vampires grabbed them, sucked them dry and tossed them into the water.

As they licked their lips, they discussed how good Italian food was and they both decided it was so good that they wanted seconds.

Again, they hid and waited. As before, another young Italian couple came floating down the canal.

Also as before, the vampires grabbed them, sucked every drop of blood from their bodies and tossed them over the side of the bridge.

Now, the vampires were feeling pretty full, but they decided to make it a really special night and to have some dessert. Waiting in the dark, they soon spied another couple approaching their bridge. When they got there, this couple also found themselves subdued and their bodies sucked dry.
The vampires then tossed the dead couple into the canal.

Sated, the vampires prepared to change form and fly home before they were caught by the coming dawn.

They stopped however, when they heard singing. Not wanting to be seen, they searched for the source. A quick glance proved that they were the only ones on the bridge. The sound however was coming from the canal. Slowly they approached the rail and looked over. Sure enough there in the water they spied a crocodile. He was munching on the bodies` singing,

"Drained wops keep falling on my head..."

These signs are actual display signs from
a place in Pennsylvania. The man
calls 'em as he sees 'em.

LET’S TALK ABOUT HUCK

2007-11-25T07:57:00.001-06:00

This is primarily for those of you who live outside Arkansas: Mike Huckabee has suddenly become a “dark horse” frontrunner in the Republican column in the race for Presidential nominee.

Those of us who live in his state know him pretty well and, sadly, have kind of taken him for granted.

In thinking about what I’m about to say, you should be aware of my personal attitudes.

To begin with, at one time in my life, I was a political activist. With the fanaticism of the convert, once I dropped that stance, I went from activism to hardcore apathy. I moved back to this state in late 1992 and didn’t go to the trouble to register to vote until the spring of 2006. This registration was due to the fact that I was now writing regularly for one of the local papers, knew a number of candidates (including the front-running gubernatorial candidate) on a first-name basis. That being the case, I didn’t want any criticism – actual or implied – to be met with a “What’s it to you? You don’t even vote.”

I registered as a Democrat. I’ve never voted a straight ticket in my life, and have no intent of starting now. Still, more often than not, I like the Democratic candidate better.

Mike Huckabee is a Republican. Cha-ching. Strike One.

The last I heard, it’s unconstitutional in Texas for a so-called “man of the cloth” – be he/her Protestant/Catholic/Wiccan, whatever – to hold public elective office in that state. I think that’s a damn good idea.

Mike Huckabee is a minister. Cha-ching. Strike Two.

Mike Huckabee is a religious and moral conservative. I’m anything but, especially after going through the George W. religious steamroller in the last election. Cha-ching. Strike three.

In other words, Mike pretty much covers my anti-spectrum.

Having said that at some excessive length, I must now admit that, were the election held today, my vote would go to Mike Huckabee.

?????

Now, you can get all the fluff at http://www.mikehuckabee.com/ , but let me tell you my take.

Huckabee became Governor of the state under a cloud – no, not a cloud of his making but of his predecessor. The kind of legal mess that Arkansas politics seems to breed. It was made worse by the fact that the then-Governor was a Democrat and Mike, as noted before, was Republican (another little glitch in the Arkansas Constitution).

Well, the gov started waffling all over the place. “I’ll fight ..” “.. I’ll resign on ..” “I’ve resigned …” “… I’ve changed my mind and taking my resignation back … “ Two or three days of this public spectacle … and Mike Huckabee was a gentleman about it. Rather than make political hay out of this totally shameless and stupid display, he stayed above it, commenting not on the Demos in general, or the gov specifically.

He also didn’t hold a crowing session when the Dems told the Gov to get lost … and made it stick.

Huckabee has been a good Governor. He’s quietly steered his basically non-partisan agenda through our tangled legislative jungle, all quietly but effectively.

Unlike a lot of fundamentalist preachers, Huckabee has NOT taken his “bully pulpit” (as Teddy Roosevelt referred to the Presidency) to cram his moral and religious values down our collective throats. Instead, he publicly announced that, as part of healthy living initiatives in the state, he was going to peel about a hundred pounds off his then-corpulent form … and did it.

Incidentally, his wife, Janet, is NOT a Hillary Clinton. She’s got her own responsibilities, her own interests, but is never, in any way, involved in the political arena. Her area is social and, like her husband, she’s effective as hell .. quietly.

There are those who say who will say that Huckabee is a naïf in national politics (from Dictionary.com: a naive or inexperienced person)/nif/ Pronunciation Ke. Obviously, they need a little education. First, Arkansas politics is as convoluted and cut-throat a process as you could ask for. Huckabee survived, with grace.

Secondly, Bill Clinton had no national experience either, but he survived 8 years in the White House and, even in impeachment, said, “Okay, that’s nice. Now, can we get on with business?” and made it stick.

For all his moral shortcomings, Clinton was a good President. Huckabee is out of the same training ground, without the kneeling interns.

So, my hat’s off to Mike and Janet Huckabee – and, unless there is some kind of radical change, that’s where my vote is going, too.

One man’s opinion.

FRIGHTENING THOUGHT

2007-11-24T10:40:00.000-06:00

NOTE TO ANITA: Go to the SY site.

WELL, IT HAPPENED THIS WAY …

2007-11-23T18:38:00.000-06:00

Monday morning. Damn tired and lacking in energy, but had chemo treatment scheduled, so I dragged my now-skinny butt into the doctors, then to the lab, then be told all my blood counts were down again. Besides, the girls explained, I was scheduled for Wednesday, not Monday.

Now, before I left home, I stopped by the bathroom and had a BM. It triggered another one of my bouts; not quite as severe as its predecessors but, still, ten minutes of gasping for breath and throwing up a couple of times doesn’t exactly calm you down.

Anyway, the two events together – the A-fib attack and no treatment edict (my readings had again fallen below critical), I told Karen to just head for the E.R. Three hours later, I was fluffed up in one of my favorite beds in my favorite ward. (You know most of the nurse’s and aides’ first names, kitchen remembers your meal preferences, etc.)

Well, why not? This was incarceration #13 for the year.

After 24 hours, they moved me to my other favorite ward, this one the heart wardl Seems you can’t administer chemo if you’re heart specific in your after-school training, and ditto with heart treatment if your octologiical post-grad training is strong enough.

Two more units of whole blood and then, early this afternoon, the chemo itself, followed by an hour’s observation, then out the damn door and home.

Of course, there were other little things along the way: another a-fib attack, a severe one, Monday night, another Tuesday, only not quite as severe, what I’ve started calling an “in-betweener,” basically everything but the torrential sweats, and it doesn’t last as long as the world-class attacks.

Medicine was added and readjusted; IV antibiotics like I was a tank truck taking on a load.

Net result: lungs breathing easier, no atrial-fibrillation attacks following a bowel movement. The brain just a bit more up. Still weak on my feet and unsteady in my balance, but alive and functioning well mentally, if not physically.

A WARNING NOTE to those who’ve never encountered the kind of major medical work it’s been my (pleasure?) to endure over the past five years: if your childhood upbringing imprinted you with an overdose of modesty and other nonsensical body taboos, start shedding them NOW. Once this circus starts, your modesty will take full-size hits.

And trust me, at some point, the circus parade WILL start.

For instance, when I went in for my triple bypass … they’d given me a razor and a special cream and given me instructions to shave the entire front of my body, arms and legs. Well 4:30 in the morning is not my ideal time for body-shaving but, nonetheless, I gave it my best shot. I get to the hospital, the Supervisory Cardiac Surgical Nurse takes one look at my pink, porky body and says, “Hmm … not bad, but not enough, either.” The next thing I know, I am 100% stark, stone naked, bright lights over the bed, and two young, nubile student nurses, each with a razor in her hand, and both busy shaving me all over all over again.

More examples to follow. In the meantime, have a nice weekend: I’m certainly planning to.

SUGGESTION

2007-11-18T07:23:00.000-06:00

Our friend and reader, Fabulous Flo, suggests that “Holy Moley” doesn’t carry the right weight to do justice to yesterday’s photos.

Her suggestion?

GOOD GOLLY, MISS MOLLY!!!

Take your choice … and have a good day!

HOLY MOLEY!

2007-11-17T09:24:00.001-06:00

First a health note on yours truly.

I had another one of my major *(%&$! A-fib attacks last night: sweating like a squeezed sponge, gasping for air, etc.

After about 10 minutes of this nonsense, I started coming down off the peak, and Karen took my blood pressure: 164/109, pulse 107 or so. This is NOT normal for my cherubic little body.

The difference this time was I hadn’t had a BM, which seems to have triggered off all previous editions of the same thing.

What MAY have caused it … oxygen lines seem to come in two different grades of transparent plastic: soft and hard. Trust me when I tell you to pick the hard. My soft kinked up yesterday, and there’s reason to believe it totally cut off my oxygen for at least a couple of hours.

Stay tuned!

HOLY MOLEY!

Our good friend and ex-colleague, Delightful Doris, sent me some photos the other day; they were headed “12 Pictures That’ll Make You Say, ‘Holy Moley!’”

Well, the first thing I had to do was straighten out some gender confusion: what came from Delightful Doris I thought had come from Dandy Don, since they’re both heading their e-mails “DD.”

(Insert old joke about, “I should have known better, because of the mustache.” “But he doesn’t have a mustache.” “No, but she does.” Unfortunately for the humor file, he does and she doesn’t – Thank God!).

I tossed one photo because I couldn’t see the point. Still, here are:

ELEVEN PHOTOS TO MAKE YOU SHOUT

“HOLY MOLEY!”

DEAR OLE MOM

2007-11-16T06:21:00.000-06:00

In the main, this has run twice before on this site. I can’t really improve on it, just update it.

And now, a few words about my mother, Marcella “Sandy” Pry.

Tomorrow, Saturday, 11/17/07, is her 87^th Birthday.

What makes it difficult to organize a tribute is that she’s still an ongoing story, and a damn independent one, too. She keeps her own house, right across the yard. She runs her own computer (with a very, very active e-mail correspondence all over the country), She has DirecTV and wireless broadband. She no longer drives her own car; my wife, Karen, does it for both of us … although, since Mom discovered the van operation from the Senior Center, she’s been drifting back into independence.

Mom was what some would call a “late bloomer.” My baby sister and I had been down here for a bit over a year before she and daddy moved here from Chicago. Mom got here to discover that she was almost universally known around town as “Tom Pry’s Mother” (I was no more of a shrinking violet in high school than now).

When I finally graduated, she then became known as “Cookie Pry’s Mother,” for all of the same reasons.

When sis and I came back a few years later to visit, it was to discover that we were now both known as “Sandy Pry’s kids.”

Mom had bloomed while we weren’t looking.

At the high point of her arc, she was National Public Relations Director for the VFW auxiliary. She’s had tea with one first lady and lunch with another. She was handling PR for the state VFW, and had been state PR director for the Auxiliary.

When she planted a George Bush (the elder) sign in her front yard, I had to tell her that was pretty ballsy for a broad whose walls had so many framed photos of her and Bill Clinton together hanging on them.

And all this, over the years, while raising a husband and two kids, and working full-time jobs.

I run this, of course, to appropriately say Happy upcoming Birthday, Mom!

CAST YOUR VOTE

2007-11-15T06:34:00.002-06:00

From ole buddy Bobbie B…

Wal-Mart announced that, sometime in 2008, it will begin offering customers a new discount item ---- Wal-Mart's own brand of wine.

The world's largest retail chain is teaming up with Ernest & Julio Gallo Winery of California to produce the spirits at an affordable price, in the $2.00 - $5.00 range.

Wine connoisseurs may not be inclined to put a bottle of Wal-Mart brand into their shopping carts, but "there is a market for inexpensive wine," said Kathy Micken professor of marketing at University of Arkansas, Bentonville. "But the right name is important."

Customer surveys were conducted to determine the most attractive name for the Wal-Mart wine brand. The top surveyed names in order of popularity were:

10. Chateau Traileur Parc

9. White Trashfindel

8. Big Red Gulp

7. World Championship Riesling

6. NASCARbernet

5. Chef Boyardeaux

4. Peanut Noir

3. I Can't Believe it's not Vinegar

2. Grape Expectations

1. Nasti Spumante

The beauty of Wal-Mart wine is that it can be served with either white meat (Possum) or red meat (Squirrel).

P. S. - Don't bother writing back that this is a hoax.

I know possum is not a white meat.

Being Trailer Trash myself, I voted for Chateau Traileur Parc.

WANNA FEEL DUMB?

2007-11-14T07:18:00.001-06:00

A couple of days ago, Don. T. sent us a copy of the Salina, KS, 8^th grade final exam. Today, Naughty Neville sent the answers, as lifted from a site called “Digital History.”

Could You Have Passed the 8th Grade in 1895?

PLEASE NOTE: We have given the answers to the test

Answers to the 8th Grade Test:

GRAMMAR (Time, one hour)

1. Give the nine rules for the use of Capital Letters.

Always capitalize the first letter in a sentence or sentence fragment
Always capitalize the first letter in a direct quotation
Always capitalize the first letter in a direct question within a sentence
Always capitalize the first letter in a line of poetry
Always capitalize the first letter in proper nouns, including registered trademarks, names of treaties, geological eras, planets, courts of law, the days of the week, and genera in zoology and botany
Always capitalize the first letter in titles of books, magazines, newspapers, movies, works of art, and music, except for conjunctions, prepositions, and articles (Gone With the Wind)
Always capitalize the first letter in the names of ships, aircraft, and spacecraft (e.g., Sputnik)
Always capitalize the first letter in peoples' names (e.g. John Smith)
Always capitalize the first letter in a title preceding a person's name (e.g., Mr.)
Always capitalize the first letter in words designating the Deity (e.g. God)
Always capitalize the pronoun "I"

2. Name the parts of speech and define those that have no modifications.

Noun: A word used in a sentence as a subject or object of a very or a preposition.
Pronoun: A word used as a substitute for a noun and which refers to a person or thing.
Adjectives: A word that modifies a noun.
Verb: A word that expresses an act, occurrence, or mode of being.

3. Define:

Verse: A line of metric writing
Stanza: A series of lines within a poem that are arranged together and usually involve a recurring pattern of meter and rhyme.
Paragraph: A subdivision of a written composition consisting of one or more sentences dealing with one point or giving the words of one speaker.

4. What are the principal parts of a verb?

Transitive, intransitive, past, present, future, conditional, subjunctive

Give the principal parts of do, lie, lay, and run.

Did, do, doing, shall do
Lied, lie, lying, shall lie
Lay, lay, laying, shall lay
Ran, run, running, shall run

5. Define Case.

A change in the form of a noun, pronoun, or adjective indicating its grammatical relation to other words.

Illustrate each case.

Near, nearer, nearest
Nicely

6. What is Punctuation?

Dividing a written matter with punctuation marks.

Give rules for principal marks of punctuation.

Comma: Separates main clauses joined by a conjunction; separates words in a series; sets off an adverbial clause.
Semicolon: Links main clauses not joined by conjunctions.
Colon: Introduces a clause that explains or amplifies what has gone on before.
Period: Terminates a sentence.
Hyphen: Used in some compound words.
Question mark: Terminates a direct question.
Exclamation point: Terminates an emphatic phrase or sentence.
Apostrophe: Indicates the possessive case or omissions in contracted words.
Parentheses: Sets off supplementary material.
Quotation marks: Enclose direct quotations.

7-10. Write a composition of about 150 words and show therein that you understand the practical use of the rules of grammar.

Arithmetic (Time, one hour)

1. Name and define the Fundamental Rules of Arithmetic.

Arithmetic is the branch of mathematics that deals with real numbers.
Addition: Combining numbers to obtain an equivalent quantity.
Subtraction: Deducting one number from another.
Division: Dividing one number by another.
Multiplication: Adding an integer a specified number of times.

2. A wagon box is 2 feet deep, 10 feet long, and 3 feet wide. How many bushels of wheat will it hold?

3. If a load of wheat weighs 3942 pounds, what is it worth at 50 cts. per bu., deducting 1050 lbs. for tare?

The net weight of the wheat is 2,892 pounds. A bushel of wheat weighs about 60 pounds. The correct answer is $24.10.

4. District No. 33 has a valuation of $35,000. What is the necessary levy to carry on a school seven months at $50 per month, and have $104 for incidentals?

1.3 percent

5. Find cost of 6720 lbs. Coal at $6.00 per ton.

$20.16

6. Find the interest of $512.60 for 8 months and 18 days at 7 percent.

$26

7. What is the cost of 40 boards 12 inches wide and 16 ft. long at 20 cents per sq. foot?

$128

8. Find bank discount on $300 for 90 days (no grace) at 10 percent.

Bank discount is the bank charge made for payment of a note prior to maturity, expressed as a percentage of the note's face value. Discount is subtracted from the principal before the borrower receives the money. A person who borrows $300 at a discount rate of 10 percent for 90 days would receive only $270.

9. What is the cost of a square farm at $15 per acre, the distance around which is 640 rods?

There are 160 acres in this farm for a total cost of $2400.

10. Write a Bank Check, a Promissory Note, and a Receipt.

U.S. History (Time, 45 Minutes)

1. Give the epochs into which U.S. History is divided.

The Colonial Era
The Revolutionary Era
The Critical Period
The Early National Era
The Jeffersonian Era
The Antebellum Era
The Civil War Era
The Gilded Age
Later periods of American History include:
The Progressive Era
World War I
The Interwar Era
World War II
The Postwar Era

2. Give an account of the discovery of America by Columbus.

In 1492, the Italian-born Columbus captained three ships westward, seeking a water-route to the Spice Islands. After three months, he encountered land in the Caribbean.

3. Relate the causes and results of the Revolutionary War.

Causes of the Revolution include the British decision to levy taxes in the colonies without the colonists consent; the stationing of troops in the colonies; the imposition of restrictions on colonial trade, manufacturing, and westward expansion; and infringement of the colonists' legal rights and liberties. Consequences of the Revolution include the emancipation of slaves in many northern states and the adoption of graduate emancipation schemes in other states in the North; the disestablishment of churches in most states; the adoption of new state constitutions; and rapid westward expansion.

4. Show the territorial growth of the United States.

A correct answer would include the purchase of Louisiana Territory from France; the annexation of Texas; the acquisition of the Pacific Northwest as a result of negotiations with Britain; the Mexican War; the Gadsden Purchase; the purchase of Alaska from Russia; and the annexation of Hawaii.

5. Tell what you can of the history of Kansas.

A correct answer would include the Kansas-Nebraska Act, which opened Kansas to white settlement and the contest between pro-slavery and free soil forces to control Kansas' territorial legislature.

6. Describe three of the most prominent battles of the Rebellion.

The First Battle of Bull Run: The first full-scale battle of the Civil War, which took place in Northern Virginia not far from Washington, dashed Union hopes for a quick military victory.
Antietam: This battle, which witnessed the bloodiest day of the Civil War, halted a Confederate offensive into the North and led President Lincoln to issue his Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation.
Gettysburg: The largest battle in the history of the Western Hemisphere ended the Confederacy's ability to wage an offensive war in the North and removed the threat of foreign intervention in the conflict.

7. Who were the following:

Morse: A prominent artist and nativist who invented the telegraph.
Whitney: The inventor of the cotton gin also helped popularize the American System of standardized parts and mass production.
Fulton: Demonstrated the practicality of steam-powered navigation.
Bell: A teacher of the deaf who invented the telephone.
Lincoln: The 16th President of the United States led the Union during the Civil War and issued the Emancipation Proclamation, which transformed the conflict into a war to liberate the slaves.
Penn: The Quaker founder of Pennsylvania colony.
Howe: An inventor of the sewing machine.

8. Name the events connected with the following dates:

1607: The founding of Jamestown, Britain's first enduring colonial settlement.
1620: The landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock.
1800: The election of Thomas Jefferson as the third president marks the first transfer of power from one political party to another.
1849: The discovery of gold in California the previous year led some 80,000 '49ers to migrate into the territory.
1865: The defeat of the Confederacy in the Civil War and the assassination of President Lincoln.

Orthography (Time, one hour)

1. What is meant by the following:

Alphabet: A set of letters or characters with which a language is written.
Phonetic: Representing the sounds of speech.
Orthography: The representation of a language by written letters or symbols.
Etymology: The history of a word.
Syllabication: The division of words into syllables.

2. What are elementary sounds? How classified?

The elementary sounds are the basic sounds of speech.

3. What are the following, and give examples of each:

Trigraph: a cluster of three successive letters
Subvocals: The occurrence in the mind of words without vocal articulation.
Diphthong: A sound (such as the last sound in the word "toy") that starts at the position of one vowel and moves toward another.
Cognate: Words related by descent from the same ancestral language.
Linguals: Sounds produced by the tongue.

4. Give four substitutes for caret 'u.'

ie (view)
ew (blew)
oo (food)
ou (through)

5. Give two rules for spelling words with final 'e.' Name two exceptions under each rule.

A single long vowel followed by a consonant (other than w or y) is often followed by a final 'e.' (example: crude or prove; exception: love or above)
Two consonants followed by a long 'e' at the end of a word often include two "e"'s. (example: free or tree; exceptions: brie or monkey)

6. Give two uses of silent letters in spelling. Illustrate each.

Pneumonia; knight

7. Define the following prefixes and use in connection with a word:

Bi: two parts; bicycle
Dis: opposite or deprive of; disagreeable
Mis: badly, unfavorable, or not; mistrust
Pre: earlier or prior to; prehistoric
Semi: half or partly; semi-circle
Post: after or subsequent; posthumous
Non: not or reverse of: nonpaying
Inter: between or occurring among: intermarriage
Mono: alone, single, or containing one: monotheistic
Super: above or over; superscript

8. Mark diacritically and divided into syllables the following, and name the sign that indicates the sound:

Ball 'bol
Mercy 'm&r-sE
Sir 's&r
Cell 'sel
Rise 'rIz
Blood 'bl&d
Fare 'far
Last 'last

A glossary of pronunciation terms:

Accent marks: a mark used to indicate stress or pitch.
Diaeresis: Two dots placed side-by-side over a vowel to indicate that a vowel is considered a separate vowel, even though it would normally be considered part of a diphthong.
Digraph: A series of two letters that constitute a single sound not predicted by combining the two letters.
Diphthong: A sound that start at the position for one vowel and moves toward the position of another.
Long and short vowels: Vowel-containing sounds that are long or short in duration.

9. Use the following correctly in sentences,

Cite: Cite the proper source.
Site: The landing site was on the western coast.
Sight: It was a beautiful sight.
Fane: (temple or church) To the east is a fane.
Fain: (happy or inclined) He was fain to go to the party.
Feign: (to give a false impression) He feigned death.
Vane: (an object showing the direction of the wind) There was a weather vane on the roof.
Vain: You are so vain.
Vein: Blood flows through her veins.
Raze: The construction workers razed the barn in order to build a new house.
Raise: She raised the flag.
Rays: He enjoys the sun's rays.

10. Write 10 words frequently mispronounced and indicate pronunciation by use of diacritical marks and by syllabication.

Geography (Time, one hour)

1. What is climate?

The condition of the weather at a particular place.

Upon what does climate depend?

On the season, the temperature, wind velocity, the degree of cloud cover, and precipitation, among other factors.

2. How do you account for the extremes of climate in Kansas?

The state's physical location. Cold air from the north moves easily across the Kansas plains during the winter, and hot winds blow from the south in the summer.

3. Of what use are rivers? Of what use is the ocean?

Rivers offer a source of drinking water, water power, and transportation routes. The ocean also provides a transportation route.

4. Describe the mountains of North America.

Major mountain ranges include the Appalachians, the Rocky Mountains, the Sierra Nevadas, and the Cascades.

5. Name and describe the following:

Monrovia: The capital of Liberia.
Odessa: City and port in southern Ukraine on the Black Sea.
Denver: The capital of Colorado.
Manitoba: A Canadian province.
Hecla: A volcano in southwest Iceland.
Yukon: A territory in northwest Canada between Alaska and British Columbia.
St. Helena: An island in the South Atlantic.
Juan Fernandez: A group of three islands in the southeast Pacific west of Chile
Aspinwall: A city in western Pennsylvania.
Orinoco: A river flowing from the Brazilian border to the Columbian border and into the Atlantic.

6. Name and locate the principal trade centers of the U.S.

New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco

7. Name all the republics of Europe and give the capitals of each.

Examples include:

Britain (London)
Finland (Helsinki)
France (Paris)
Germany (Berlin)
Italy (Rome)
Netherlands (Hague)
Sweden (Stockholm)

8. Why is the Atlantic Coast colder than the Pacific in the same latitude?

Because of the routes of the ocean currents.

9. Describe the process by which the water of the ocean returns to the sources of rivers.

Through evaporation and precipitation.

10. Describe the movements of the earth. Give the inclination of the earth.

The earth spins on its axis once a day. It spins around the sun once a year. The earth's inclination is 23.45 degrees.

I would’ve flunked the test

IN PASSING

2007-11-13T10:41:00.000-06:00

Among the faithful readers of this blog is Flo (or Florence, to be formal) up in Long Island.

Flo and I had already exchanged e-mails this morning, when I received the following from her:

“Tom, my husband passed away in his sleep in the early hours of this morning.

Love,

Flo”

In her earlier e-mail, sent last night, apparently, Flo told me Fred wasn’t expected to live much longer. I don’t think she expected it quite this quick, though.

In commenting on her state of mind, she said she was “heartbroken” at the inevitability of it all,“however, we are even closer now then we ever were and we were always close with a beautiful relationship.

I can say that; wish everyone could.

I’m sure you join me in wishing Flo tranquility in her tragedy.

AT IT AGAIN

2007-11-13T07:47:00.000-06:00

From ole buddy, Dandy Don. Read this carefully, as it is NOT going where you think.

I was shocked, confused, bewildered
As I entered Heaven's door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
Nor the lights or its decor.

But it was the folks in Heaven
Who made me sputter and gasp--
The thieves, the liars, the sinners,
The alcoholics and the trash.

There stood the kid from seventh grade
Who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
Who never said anything nice.

Harry, who I always thought
Was rotting away in hell,
Was sitting pretty on cloud nine,
Looking incredibly well.

I nudged Jesus, "What's the deal?
I would love to hear Your take.
How'd all these sinners get up here?
God must've made a mistake.

"And why's everyone so quiet,
So somber - give me a clue."
"Hush, child," He said, "they're all in shock.
No one thought they'd be seeing you."

JUDGE NOT

A WHOLE NEW MEANING

2007-11-12T07:11:00.000-06:00

Sent to us by our good friend and contributor, Don T:

A Whole New Meaning To "HE ONLY HAD AN EIGHTH GRADE EDUCATION."

What it took to get an 8th grade education in 1895...

Remember when grandparents and great-grandparents stated that they only had an 8th grade education? Well, check this out. Could any of us have passed the 8th grade in 1895?

This is the eighth-grade final exam from 1895 in Salina, Kansas, USA. It was taken from the original document on file at the Smokey Valley Genealogical Society and Library in Salina, and reprinted by the Salina Journal.

8th Grade Final Exam: Salina, KS - 1895

Grammar (Time, one hour)

1. Give nine rules for the use of capital letters.
2. Name the parts of speech and define those that have no modifications.
3. Define verse, stanza and paragraph
4. What are the principal parts of a verb? Give principal parts of "lie,""play," and "run."
5. Define case; illustrate each case.
6 What is punctuation? Give rules for principal marks of punctuation.
7 - 10. Write a composition of about 150 words and show therein that you understand the practical use of the rules of grammar.

Arithmetic (Time,1 hour 15 minutes)

1. Name and define the Fundamental Rules of Arithmetic.
2. A wagon box is 2 ft. deep, 10 feet long, and 3 ft. wide. How many bushels of wheat will it hold?
3. If a load of wheat weighs 3,942 lbs., what is it worth at 50cts/bushel, deducting 1,050 lbs. for tare?
4. District No 33 has a valuation of $35,000. What is the necessary levy to carry on a school seven months at $50 per month, and have $104 for incidentals?
5. Find the cost of 6,720 lbs. coal at $6.00 per ton.
6. Find the interest of $512.60 for 8 months and 18 days at 7 percent.
7. What is the cost of 40 boards 12 inches wide and 16 ft. long at $20 per metre?
8. Find bank discount on $300 for 90 days (no grace) at 10 percent.
9. What is the cost of a square farm at $15 per acre, the distance of which is 640 rods?
10. Write a Bank Check, a Promissory Note, and a Receipt

U.S. History (Time, 45 minutes)

1. Give the epochs into which U.S. History is divided
2. Give an account of the discovery of America by Columbus
3. Relate the causes and results of the Revolutionary War.
4. Show the territorial growth of the United States
5. Tell what you can of the history of Kansas .
6. Describe three of the most prominent battles of the Rebellion.
7. Who were the following: Morse, Whitney, Fulton , Bell , Lincoln, Penn, and Howe?
8. Name event s connected with the following dates: 1607, 1620, 1800, 1849, 1865.

Orthography (Time, one hour)
[Do we even know what this is??]

1. What is meant by the following: alphabet, phonetic, orthography, etymology, syllabication
2. What are elementary sounds? How classified?
3. What are the following, and give examples of each: trigraph, subvocals, diphthong, cognate letters, linguals
4. Give four substitutes for caret 'u.' (HUH?)
5. Give two rules for spelling words with final 'e.' Name two exceptions under each rule.
6. Give two uses of silent letters in spelling. Illustrate each.
7. Define the following prefixes and use in connection with a word: bi, dis-mis, pre, semi, post, non, inter, mono, sup.
8. Mark diacritically and divide into syllables the following, and name the sign that indicates the sound: card, ball, mercy, sir, odd, cell, rise, blood, fare, last.
9. Use the following correctly in sentences: cite, site, sight, fane, fain, feign, vane , vain, vein, raze,! raise, rays.
10. Write 10 words frequently mispronounced and indicate pronunciation by use of diacritical marks and by syllabication.

Geography (Time, one hour)

1 What is climate? Upon what does climate depend?
2. How do you account for the extremes of climate in Kansas ?
3. Of what use are rivers? Of what use is the ocean?
4. Describe the mountains of North America
5. Name and describe the following: Monrovia , Odessa , Denver , Manitoba , Hecla , Yukon , St. Helena, Juan Fernandez, Aspinwall and Orinoco ..
6. Name and locate the principal trade centers of the U.S.
7. Name all the republics of Europe and give the capital of each.
8. Why is the Atlantic Coast colder than the Pacific in the same latitude?
9. Describe the process by which the water of the ocean returns to the sources of rivers.
10. Describe the movements of the earth. Give the inclination of the earth.

Notice that the exam took FIVE HOURS to complete.

Gives the saying "he only had an 8th grade education" a whole new meaning, doesn't it?!

Also shows you how poor our education system has become! and, NO! I don't have the answers!

MILESTONE

2007-11-11T08:45:00.000-06:00

This is posting #1000 on this site.

Wow!

Granted, a lot of them have been re-writes, some of them just a cartoon of the day. Still, maybe half or slightly better have been me running my brain and fingers. We’ve done satire, atomic energy, the Story of My Life (which is still continuing) – I just don’t have a mind that fits comfortably in one little slot.

Apparently, you don’t either, because you keep coming back for more intellectual abuse.

And I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am. Writing without an audience is a great deal like making a speech down an elevator shaft.

One Thousand. That’s almost three years; it IS over three years, if you count the predecessor site to this one. Add to that stuff written for another site, plus everything I wrote for two different local newspapers … that’s an awful lot of blather for one man.

And you’ve stuck with me.

Thank you .. and stay tuned for more!

MEDICAL UPDATE

2007-11-10T08:19:00.001-06:00

I haven’t said anything about this the past few days, but this seems like a good time to do it. Reason why is that I had another bigltime a-fib (atrial fibrillation) attack Friday morning. This the same type and same severity as the one that put me in the hospital, via ambulance, in September.

When you have three ailments – COPD, CHF, and Lung Cancer – and three different doctors treating you, it can occasionally (frequently?) be a little difficult to determine exactly which ailment is causing what. It took that September stay (week+) to determine it was a-fib causing this.

“This” is major sweating all over your body, short, gasping, desperate breathing, a little throwing up (without nausea) and the feeling that you’re dying. This is not an encouraging sensation.

Having been through this before, rather than call for the ambulance, I decided to tough this one out. At one point, I doubted the wisdom of it, but I also knew I was incapable of making it out to the car to go to the E.R.

After something close to a half-hour, I finally reached something approaching my definition of Normalcy.

What triggered it? Again, having a bowel movement and, thus, causing sympathetic reaction via my Vegas Nerve. The doc(s) and I are going to have to have a long, sincere talk.

It’s hell to be afraid to go take a crap.

Other than that, weak as a kitten. The two-unit blood transfusion did not give me the kick I expected. It would seem the chemo, even at reduced intensity, takes more out of macho man here than he really expected.

Oh, well, another chemo treatment Monday. If I don’t process through the Emergency Room before then, maybe we’ll find out more.

Stay tuned.

Eight Words with Two Meanings

2007-11-09T06:12:00.001-06:00

1. THINGY (thing-ee) n.
Female...... Any part under a car's hood.
Male..... The strap fastener on a woman's bra.

2. VULNERABLE (vul-ne-ra-bel) adj.
Female..... Fully opening up one's self emotionally to another.
Male..... Playing football without a cup.

3. COMMUNICATION (ko-myoo-ni-kay-shon) n.
Female..... The open sharing of thoughts and feelings with one's partner.
Male..... Leaving a note before taking off on a fishing trip with the boys.

4. COMMITMENT (ko-mit-ment) n.
Female..... A desire to get married and raise a family.
Male...... Trying not to hit on other women while out with this one.

5. ENTERTAINMENT (en-ter-tayn-ment) n.
Female..... A good movie, concert, play or book
Male...... Anything that can be done while drinking beer.

6. FLATULENCE (flach-u-lens) n.
Female..... An embarrassing byproduct of indigestion.
Male..... A source of entertainment, self-expression, male bonding.

7 MAKING LOVE (may-king luv) n.
Female...... The greatest expression of intimacy a couple can achieve.
Male...... Call it whatever you want, just as long as we do it.

8. REMOTE CONTROL (ri-moht kon-trohl) n.
Female..... A device for changing from one TV channel to another.
Male..... A device for scanning through all 375 channels every 5 minutes.

AND:

He said . I don't know why you wear a bra; you've got nothing to put in it.
She said . You wear pants don't you?

He said . Shall we try swapping positions tonight?
She said .... That's a good idea - you stand by the ironing board while I sit on the sofa and fart!

He said....What have you been doing with all the grocery money that I give you?
She said....Turn sideways and look in the mirror.

He said....why don't you tell me when you have an orgasm?
She said.....I would` but you are never there.

He said...How many men does it take to change a roll of toilet paper?
She said....I don't know: it has never happened.

He said .. Why is it difficult to find men who are sensitive, caring and Good- looking?
She said .... They already have boyfriends.

She said...What do you call a woman who knows where her husband is every night?
He said...........a widow.

He said ..... Why are married women heavier than single women?
She said ..... Single women come home, they see what's in the fridge and go to bed. Married women come home, see what's in bed and go to the fridge.

Men strike back!

2007-11-08T06:48:00.001-06:00

The below came to me from Dandy Don, with the note, “Send this to a few good men who need a laugh and to the select few women who can handle the truth!”

Actually, this is part of my study of local culture here in Arkansas. I share it with you for no other reason than that.

How many men does it take to open a beer?
None. It should be opened when she brings it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------
Why is a Laundromat a really bad place to pick up a woman?
Because a woman who can't even afford a washing machine will probably never be able to support you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Why do women have smaller feet than men?
It's one of those "evolutionary things" that allows
them to stand closer to the kitchen sink.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart?
When she starts a sentence with "A man once told me..."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
How do you fix a woman's watch?
You don't. There is a clock on the oven.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Why do men fart more than women?
Because women can't shut up long enough to
build up the required pressure.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first?
The dog, of course. He'll shut up once you let him in.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
I married a Miss Right.
I just didn't know her first name was Always.
---------------------------------------------- ---------------------
Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes
a woman's sex drive by 90%.
It's called a Wedding Cake.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Why do men die before their wives?
They want to.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Women will never be equal to men

until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer
gut, and still think they are sexy.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
In the beginning, God created the earth and rested.
Then God created Man and rested.
Then God created Woman.
Since then, neither God nor Man has rested.

THE YEAR'S BEST [actual] HEADLINES OF 2007:

2007-11-07T08:15:00.001-06:00

Again, we have our great friend, Dandy Don, to thank/blame for this.

Crack Found on Governor's Daughter
[Imagine that!]

Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says
[No, really?]

Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers
[Now that's taking things a bit far!]

Is There a Ring of Debris around Uranus?
[Not if I wipe thoroughly!]

Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over
[What a guy!]

Miners Refuse to Work after Death
[No-good-for-nothing' lazy so-and-so’s!]

Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
[See if that works any better than a fair trial!]

War Dims Hope for Peace
[I can see where it might have that effect!]

If Strike Isn't Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile
[You think?]

Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures
[Who would have thought!]

Enfield (London) Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide
[They may be on to something!]

Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges
[You mean there's something stronger than duct tape?]

Man Struck By Lightning: Faces Battery Charge
[he probably IS the battery charge!]

New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group
[Weren't they fat enough?!]

Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft
[That's what he gets for eating those beans!]

Kids Make Nutritious Snacks
[Taste like chicken?]

Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half
[Chainsaw Massacre all over again!]

Hospitals are Sued by 7 Foot Doctors
[Boy, are they tall!]

And the winner is....

Typhoon Rips Through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead

Halloween at our place

DESTINY OR DECISION?

2007-11-06T07:43:00.001-06:00

That incisive question is at the heart of a massive new study, released last week, that explores the reasons why people get cancer.

Actually, this was a study of all the studies that have already been done on the subject.

I have long contended – and the more honest of my medical friends have off-the-record concurred – that there are certain things about your body that have been burned into your genes, and nothing you do will much affect it one way or the other.

Take cholesterol, for instance. You can take all those wonderfully expensive medicines you see advertised on TV, eat Cheerios™ till you look like one, watch your diet like a hawk … and, if you’re lucky, you’ll affect your cholesterol maybe ten points. Then there are clowns like me: I eat lots of red meat, especially the fatty portions, etc. For all my other health problems, I’ve never even come close to dangerous cholesterol readings; it’s just never been an issue in my healthcare.

And then there’s my main malady, cancer, specifically lung cancer.

I contend that your genes can give you a predisposition to vulnerability to most cancers, but it takes some external irritant to actually trigger the dread disease. It is to this latter portion of my theory that this new study supports.

The causes can be many: environmental, lifestyle, etc., some of which you have some control over, some which have snuck up on you without your knowledge (watch Erin Brockovich for a shining example of this one).

I will, for the purposes of this treatise, restrict myself to cancers over which we have some control, specifically lung cancer.

As the old line goes, “I ain’t got nobody but myself to blame for this.”

The predilection, the tendency, was always there: my parents were both heavy smokers, as was my favorite uncle … well, you youngsters won’t believe this, but until around the 80s, you could still smoke in the workplace, in stores, the Post Office, and even your non-smoking friends’ homes: they kept ashtrays out for people like me.

Resistance to all this didn’t start creeping into society until sometime in the latter 70s, although it was the early to mid 60s when the government definitively stated that burning tobacco was loaded with carcinogens.

The joke among students at the University of Georgia in Athens was that the typical undergrad started out with “It takes a REAL man to have the willpower to stop smoking,” but quickly degenerated to “It takes a REAL man to bravely face lung cancer,” as they went back to puffing away.

I switched from non-filtered King-size Chesterfields™ to smoking filtered Benson & Hedges™. This had the effect of making me feel I’d done my part for the prolongation of my longevity, while simultaneously upping my consumption of the things. I became a pretty steady 2-1/2 pack a day consumer.

I inhaled my first tobacco smoke of my own generating in the summer of 1955; made me sick as a dog, which should have told me something right there. At any rate, I kept this newfound addiction to myself for awhile, then took to heart my parents’ frequent admonition to me, “When the day comes that you can afford to buy them, you can smoke ‘em, but we’re not going to buy them for you.”

By then, I could afford them; hell, at 30¢ a pack, anyone could – and there were no age or other restrictions on their purchase.

The top of the livingroom TV was the family dumping ground for Things Found In Pockets so, one night, I bravely put my cigarettes and lighter up there when I went to bed, same as did they, but I was awake when they got home at 3 a.m. As they lit up and discussed their discovery of my newfound vice, there seemed to be two schools of thought about the subject: my father was all for hauling my ass out of bed and killing me on the spot. My mother took a less dire but equally painful stance.

In the end, aside from a few disparaging remarks, delivered between puffs, they did nothing, hoist as they were on their own petards of “Smoke ‘em if you can afford them.”

Except for a seven-month hiatus a couple of years ago, I smoked steadily until this past January. By this time, ciggies were at $3.50 a pack, a deterrent in itself, when you’re living on Social (In)Security.

I’ve known better since the mid-60s, and it took me 40 years to do something about it. IT IS MY OWN FAULT. Granted, the tobacco companies made it seem cool and attractive (we thought) to be a smoker, but the decision was mine, and I have little sympathy for the life-long smokers who, once they developed lung cancer then turned around and sued the tobacco companies.

Even my “baby” sister (4 years younger than me) dying 16 years ago of lung cancer was not enough to dissuade me.

I have given you this chronology so that you know where this statistic came from. It’s fairly typical. Hopefully, we’’re now raising a generation with more non-smokers than smokers in it, and now the numbers will start dropping.

Pogo: “We has met the enemy and he is us.”

As for that predilection or predisposition … I look at my late father-in-law. Wonderful man. Started smoking when he was 15. Died at the age of 81 … slipping on a patch of ice as he was leaving a party, and splitting his skull open.

Do you have a predilection to cancer? I do, but I do NOT recommend my method of discovery.

Don’t ignore the warnings: I did, and you see where it got me.

There, now that I have that out of my system, we can go back to our usual drivel.

CAUTION!

2007-11-05T09:56:00.000-06:00

WELL, IT HAPPENED THIS WAY …

2007-11-04T14:56:00.001-06:00

Chemo day today, hopefully.

I wrote the above first thing Thursday morning. Two hours later, I was in the car, gasping for breath, as Karen took me to the Emergency Room.

I’d had another fullblown attack such as I’d had six weeks before: gasping for air, drenched in sweat, the whole nine yards. Fortunately, this time I knew what to expect, so I just laid there in the chair for five minutes, doing my imitation of a beached whale. Finally, I got myself under control enough to make it out to the car.

Three hours later, I was in my hospital room.

Interesting time. For one thing, the Procrit™ has the same effect on me that, oh, a normal saline solution would have, which is to say None At All. This left me “seriously anemic,” according to my world class oncologist, Michael.

Transfusion #1 on Friday. Saturday, a double-header: chemo in the morning, another unit of blood in the afternoon.

That Friday transfusion didn’t seem to have any effect on me but the one Saturday .. wow! I was wired. I stayed up till 2 o’clock this morning finishing a book Karen had gotten for me.

The upshot of all this is that I’ll get another chemo a week from tomorrow (Monday). Every few weeks I’ll have go in for another transfusion, too.

But, for now, I’m home and I’m happy.

So’s the dog: she hasn’t had anyone willing to scratch her butt .. despite the fact that she’s ready for her annual Christmas rendition of Rudolph.

CAUTION!!

2007-10-31T08:57:00.001-05:00

Our dear, good friend, Delightful Doris, sends the following on to us. They can be used as a check against the taste of whatever Halloween costume you were planning on wearing to the party tonight.

You’ve been warned!

HEALTH UPDATE

2007-10-29T09:52:00.001-05:00

Got the Bejesus scared out of me this morning.

Came back from the bathroom and, by the time I got to my perch in the living room, I was gasping for oxygen.

Now, understand that I’m on O₂all the time anyway, so for this to pop up suddenly made me think, “Oh crap .. Atrial Fibrillation raises its ugly head again. Back to the hospital!”

Before things got that far, however, I realized there was something wrong with my oxygen supply. A little quick, skillful remedial action by my wife and helpmate, Karen and, Ouila!, back in action.

Then I promptly went to sleep while my puls-ox came back up where it oughta be.

No hospital … Thank God!

A NOTE OR TWO FOR MY READER (OR TWO)

2007-10-28T11:16:00.000-05:00

First, my apologies for the fact that original material will probably be a bit sparse for awhile. No, not because I’m sicker but, rather, I’m tireder than usual. I’ve been sleeping an awful lot lately, probably because of a dropped blood count.

We’re working on the blood count with shots of Procrit™ and, hopefully, this Thursday I’ll be able to start my next series of chemo.

But until that count comes up, my time is split between sleeping, doing major repair work on my extensive music library, and – in the evening (I don’t do daytime TV) – watching television.

But I’ve got lots of cartoons. If I don’t post for a day, it’s because my ISP is down … again.

Secondly, the above got me thinking about what I DO watch on television. I found it rather curious that the preponderance of my non-old-movie viewing seems to center around shows with a law enforcement theme. This, despite the fact that I have never, for a single moment, had any urge or fantasy about being a cop (except during rush hour).

What we watch, plus comments, where warranted:

The Law & Order trilogy (SVU, CI, and Old Original)

Life (Excellent now, and keeps getting better and better)

NCIS

Bones

Shark

K-Ville (See remarks about Life)

Journeyman (Gotten better, but go to the bathroom only during commercial breaks, or you’ll lose track of the plot twists)

CSI (The original. This is more properly Karen’s cup of tea, but she enjoys sorting out puzzles, which may explain why she married me)

Cops (It’s always nice watching people who are stupider than I am)

America’s Most Wanted

Chuck (Cute show that’s defining its interpersonal relationships quite nicely)

My Name Is Earl (An attempt to learn more about our local culture)

Numbers (I stand in awe of the people who write this show, but I’m not sure that I could converse with them on their level)

Without a Trace

Cold Case

Plus a few others, like some of the one-shots on The History Channel. So far as I’m concerned, THC has now surpassed its parent, A&E, in watchable material. Anyway, the above is the “can’t miss” list at our house.

What’s yours?

Some choices are easier than others ...

2007-10-27T06:35:00.000-05:00

77 – MINDGAMES AND ME – Four F

2007-10-26T08:49:00.000-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

One other little thing about my time in Korea sticks in my mind.

Somehow, I found myself under the wing of Major Mario KemSang. If that sounds foreign, it’s because it was … but NOT Korean. No, Mario was the Military Attaché to the Korean Government from the Republic of the Philippines.

I’d helped him record something one day and, for some strange reason, he took a shine to me. Part of it was due to the fact that he, like me, was a graduate of the U.S. Army Information School. The rest of it .. who knows; it might be that he found a rough stone worth polishing. I never asked, and he never volunteered. We just enjoyed each other’s company, within the bounds of officer/enlisted protocol.

The net result was that I found myself spending an awful lot of time with the Philippine Embassy Crowd, since Military Attaché is part observer and part diplomat. Between Mario and his delightful secretary, the irresistible Providencia L. Carillo (aka “Prudy”), I had entrée to a lot of embassy events which were intended mostly for embassy personnel and a few personal friends.

(At this point, I should interject a word about Prudy. She was almost tiny, not just petite and, like a small bird, she was constantly twittering and bouncing from one place to another. Mario told me she was older than she looked; good thing he said something, because she was the kind of lady who made you want to fall in love with her. As it was, I settled for learning more about her. The story that sticks in my mind was about when she was a little girl, in the early days of the Japanese occupation. She remembered spending two days sitting on her father’s shoulders in a cave where the water was up to her father’s chin. The Japs, you see, were searching for them. Remember that the next time you think you’ve had a hard life).

And then there was the evening Mario invited me and a couple of other guys to a formal dinner party at his home.

This was another world, the kind that, up to then, I’d only seen in depression-era movies. His home was large and comfortably luxurious (Mario did NOT come from a destitute family; just the opposite, in fact). His wife both elegant and attractive, his children well-dressed and polite.

Servants, and a table that might well have been intimidating .. except for one small thing.

This will seem like a digression, but it’s really to the point.

Back before Arkansas State Teachers College became the University of Central Arkansas, it was what was called a Land Grant school. In practical terms, it meant that if you had an Arkansas home address and a high school diploma, plus the (quite reasonable) tuition, they HAD to take you as a student when you presented yourself. None of this nonsense with quotas or test scores or essays; if you met the above criteria, you were in.

They did several interesting things with their incoming students. Now, with the above non-existent standards in mind, you had quite a few rough diamonds, with few social graces and God only knows what kind of intelligence to their names. So, the first thing they did was get us all in the auditorium one day and give us the equivalent of the SAT; for all I know, it WAS a SAT. (I scored in the mid-to-upper 90^th percentiles in everything but math: that was the 2^nd percentile, of which more later).

The other thing they did that day was show us a movie. Basically, it was a very good instructional film on how to cope with a full, formal place setting: what things were for, and in what order they were used, plus other rigmarole connected with such an event.

They then set things up so that every event catered by the school, whether it be club or academics or what, was always set up with a full, formal setting. They did this with other things, too, like faculty/student receptions with a formal receiving line, etc.

These were the most useful things I salvaged from my solitary year of higher formal education.

So I was NOT non-plussed at Mario’s when the children were introduced to us, and then went off to eat their dinner separately. I did NOT attempt to drink the water in the fingerbowl, etc.

And I was dumbfounded when I realized we were going to follow another stop in the Good Life: after dinner, when Mrs. KemSang excused herself and us guys trooped off to the library, where we sat back and enjoyed cognac and really good Philippine cigars.

Seeing people do this in movies and actually encountering it in real life are two totally separate things.

At any rate, I found the Filipino women attractive and intelligent, the music and dancing graceful and interesting, and the people as a whole charming. This is why it saddens me when I read of Moro uprisings and other Muslim nonsense in their country.

They deserve better.

She smells just like a brand new pickup truck.

77 – MINDGAMES AND ME – Four E

2007-10-24T06:27:00.001-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

I also helped teach Conversational English on HLKZ-TV, Korea’s only civilian television station.

Ralph had bought the rights from a GI who was going back home. He then turned around and sold the show to Northwest Orient Airlines, and paid the station for the airtime. The difference between one and the other meant Ralph was making more money in profit than the Station Manager was making in salary every month.

Four nights a week, he would have the really excellent staff set up a fake set of some “ideal” location, and a few of us would circulate through his half-hour show adding to the atmosphere.

His translator was a sweet, almost abnormally bright future Miss South Korea named Kim Sun Ji (Korean, like many oriental languages, places the family name first). The Ji was pronounced “Gee.” Sun Ji was another college student, one whose father was the biggest movie producer in the country.

Her command of the English language was nothing short of awesome, although she didn’t believe it. (She got onto the case of one of our guys on the phone one day, finally asking, “What’s the matter? Don’t you understand your own mother tongue?!?”)

There wasn’t enough time in our day to script the show so Sun Ji, by default, had to become a simultaneous translator. One night, on a set made to look like the patio behind a nice suburban house, we held a birthday party. Not a generic party, but one specifically for Sun Ji, who had no idea it was coming.

Our best laugh came in the middle of that party (we had a big cake, so our excellent Korean crew could join in the fun). While leaking tears and enjoying herself, Sun Ji was still translating. At one point, she stumbled over some phrase – English could be difficult to translate into Korean – and Ralph automatically said, “You’ll have to forgive Miss Kim; she’s a little spastic this evening.”

The translation was out of her mouth before she realized what she’d just said, to the great amusement of Korean and American alike. The look on her face was marvelous!
___________________________________________________

77 – MINDGAMES AND ME – Four D

2007-10-23T09:13:00.001-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

Well, just about enough time in Korea; just a few more items in search of thoroughness.

I became an English teacher. No, not what you think of from when you were in school but, rather, Conversational English.

See, every South Korean who’s gone to school since about 1945 can read and write English. If there’s a place to write it down, you can usually communicate with them. The problem with this is that if the average Korean tries speaking or even listening to English, it’s so much gibberish.

Enter the private school world. Working from a selected text book, we would do our best to shape up the sounds. This was not always easy. My last name, for instance. The name tag on my uniform said “Pry;” in the Korean characters underneath, however, it was “Ply,” since there’s no “R” sound in Korean, as I recall.

My students were, in the main, college students, with a soupçon of members of well-heeled business families.

This made for some interesting situations.

For instance, a bunch of our college guys threw a dinner party for some of us teachers. Held in the sizeable home of one of them, his family was charming, the food was good and plentiful, and we were all introduced to Yaqju. This is a Korean rice wine. Served warm from teapots, and looking like diluted milk, it goes down smmooooottthhhh!

The pots just kept coming, and conversation in English seemed to become easier and more fluent as the evening went on.

The fun began the next day. Have you ever had a two week hangover? Trust me, you don’t want to. It’s a tossup as to which was worse, the diarrhea or the accompanying super-duper headache. The two together are murder.

At the next class, our hosts were having a good laugh.

On the positive side of the learning ledger, I went to Sygman Rhee’s birthday party. This came about because one of my students, an attractive, intelligent lady in her 30s, had a husband who owned a dynamic import/export business that did a lot of business with – and made a lot of money for – the South Korean government.

She invited me to join the two of them at the party for the President/effective Dictator of the country.

The bash was formal and held at what was, at the time, the only decent hotel in South Korea. It was also owned by Mrs. Rhee.

Other than the honor of the thing, and the fact that my host spent most of his time working the crowd, leaving me with his fun, charming wife, the only other thing that stuck in my mind was the dance band providing the music.

After the really great similar bands I emceed at the Service Club, this band was a total disappointment. It was far-and-away the worst musical group I encountered there. To add insult to injury, their music stands were carefully lettered “The NBC Orchestra.”

For those of you too young to remember, NBC assembled possibly the finest symphony orchestra in the world. The NBC Symphony Orchestra, under the baton of the world-renowned Arturo Toscanini, was made up of some of the finest musicians in New York, which means they were very good indeed.

If there had been Truth In Advertising laws in existence in 1958, the whole dance band would’ve been arrested and charged.

77 – MINDGAMES AND ME – Four C

2007-10-22T09:35:00.001-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

The Service Club would frequently hire some of us for special tasks – like that spotlight job. I pretty much had a regular gig, every Friday or Saturday night. Five bucks a pop and fun.

There was a network of dance bands that worked a circuit around South Korean military locations. They were pretty much uniformly excellent, and came complete with singers (this is how I met The Kim Sisters, later to see them in the states on the Ed Sullivan Show several times).

The one thing they DIDN’T have was a Master of Ceremonies who could be understood in English. This is where Junior here came in.

These musicians were sharp, and very fast on the uptake. There was no opportunity for rehearsal or even a discussion of what was going to happen, so both they and I “winged” it. I remember one night they played a big fanfare to bring me on. I couldn’t resist. Despite the fact that the band leader was standing right there, as they held the last note, I held up my arm and hand to get their attention, then gave a big, showy cutoff.

Every man responded, just as if they’d been following a script.

Great fun.

Every once-in-a-while, if you’re lucky, you do something that, in looking back at it later, both surprises you and leaves you feeling good about yourself. One of my moments came in one of these shows.

There was a class of South Korean soldier called KATUSA’s: Korean Army Training (with the) U.S. Army. They lived within Army units, and the U.S. government gave them about $35 a month, just so they could afford some of the basic amenities they saw among the U.S. troops, things like soft drinks, candy bars, and razor blades.

The KATUSA contingents were pretty much treated like 2^nd Class citizens by both our Army and the troops in the various units that had KATUSA’s.

This will sound familiar to certain of my readers: The KATUSA’s would come to the dance band shows (which always played to a full house), but always sat in the back of the room. Since few of them spoke English, it was like half an auditorium full of stone statues.

It made me feel as if I were failing 50% of my audience; besides. the more-than-hint of discrimination involved in these guys’ day to day existence bothered me, too.

It was with this in mind that, one evening, I went to our Korean counter-man there at the club and told him what I wanted, and why. It tickled him pink and he did a bang-up job.

So it was that I opened the show with my monologue and let the band get their first number out of the way, and then I told a joke. The “round-eyes” laughed and, as their laughter died away, I picked up two sticks and let them unroll scroll-style. The long, narrow sign between the sticks was filled with Korean … and it was the KATUSA’s turn to go into hysterics, to the total puzzlement of the U.S. troops.

I used it once more, later in the show … but I never told anyone that what the sign said was, “I’ve just told a joke; please laugh.” You see, what got them was not the line, but the fact that someone had finally acknowledged that they were there, and invited them in on the fun.

I always felt good about that.

77 - MINDGAMES 4B

2007-10-21T05:58:00.000-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

And then there’s Special Services, mostly civilian-staffed, a government operation. They operate the post theatres, the bowling alleys, etc. and, most importantly to many of us, the Service Clubs.

Incidentally, that phrase “Service Clubs” is often mis-leading. A number of communities started similar places in their towns, and they called them Service Clubs, but they weren’t part of that operation at all.

“Our” Service Clubs were/are conveniently located on military posts, and they provided a handy relaxing, entertaining place for those who, due to economics, religion, or liver condition didn’t feel like knocking back the booze at the nearest NCO club. What kind of services did they provide? Well, they were kinda like a well-stocked home away from home.

For instance, I mentioned our jazz trio at Ft. Slocum. Wanna guess where we got our string bass and the drum set, and held our practices?

Not to mention the occasional square dance lesson or talent show.

Our Service Club in Seoul, as befits its location at Headquarters, 8^th Army. was a bit more far-ranging in its offerings.

The “regulars” at the 8^th Army Service Club in ’58 and

‘59. That’s Me, Laughing Boy, on the left. None of

us were from the same place in the states, none of us

worked in the same unit .. but we were friends,

due solely to our camaraderie at the Club.

The lady, incidentally, was Dot Carter, Assistant

Manager of the club, and owner of what was

without question the finest-looking tail and legs in

Korea. This was in part due to the fact that

she wore the first pair of 3” stiletto spikes we’d

ever seen. Her mom had sent them to her after

the shoe industry figured out that inserting a steel

rod vertically in the heel kept them from breaking.

Since sweet Dot was already a tall gal, the

effect on us was … pleasantly considerable.

There were the usual amenities at the Club, plus a few entertainment extras. For instance, Sunday afternoon concerts by the 8^th Army Band. I played those. I was not a member of the band, nor did I attend rehearsals: just came in and sight-read percussion.

One Sunday, I showed up for the concert and, glancing out at the group from the hallway, saw a familiar face, another one from A.S.T.C./UCA. I commented on this to the old Chief Warrant Officer who was the band’s conductor and commanding officer.

Yes, he confirmed, Emmet Houlihan had just joined the band that week, playing flute/piccolo in the regular configuration, “but he’s a fine pianist, too. In fact, he’s doing a solo with the band this afternoon.”

“Chief, want to have some fun?”

Of course, said he, so I gave him the ammunition with which to do it.

Because we percussionists were at the back of the band, Emmet had no call to look back there and see me, so things went on according to schedule until it was time for his solo. The Chief introduced Emmet, gave a bit of his background and then said, “I understand Emmet had a nickname in school. It was ‘Rotch,’ short for Liberace.”

The minute the word "Rotch" passed the Chief’s lips, Emmet popped up off the grand piano bench like someone had just ignited a firecracker in his backside: he’d always absolutely hated that nickname. Frantically, as the full audience laughed at his reaction, his head swiveled .. and then he spotted me, and I gave him a friendly wave.

Mystery solved, reunion held .. but I’m not sure that Emmet ever forgave me for blowing the whistle on him.

You never know when you’re again going to run into someone you know … or where you’ll meet them.

77 – MINDGAMES AND ME – Four A

2007-10-20T00:32:00.000-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

This is, properly, not in the right category of memories, in all probability, but I can’t think of a better place for it. Tolerate it as illustrative of what active minds think of.

There are a number of governmental and non-profit groups who worry about the morale and well-being of our troops around the world.

There is, for instance, the American Red Cross, whose special forte is the unusual, especially when their clout will come in handy. For instance, not long after I got to Korea, the fine old gentleman who was our First Sergeant, got a letter from his wife of 20+ years stating that she was filing for divorce.

Now, Sarge was on his “sunset tour,” his last one before retirement, and now this, with no warning and no explanation.

Somebody got hold of the Red Cross who, in one 24-hour period, got somebody out to Sarge’s home in California, only to discover that his beloved had become a compulsive gambler while he was gone. She’d blown their entire life savings on the ponies and, now, couldn’t face him. As soon as Seoul learned that, they wangled a Compassionate Leave for him, bought a ticket, and put his butt on a plane for California. We never saw him again, but remember his last sentiment before leaving for Kimpo, to the effect that money was nothing, love was everything.

Then there’s the USO. That stands for United Service Organizations, which means exactly what it sounds like, a group of non-profits that pooled their assets together. Like United Way, this gave them a much more focused operation.

USO operated a center in downtown Seoul. Besides a snack bar and restaurant, they also had a telephone center for those important calls home, plus an airline ticket counter, and other non-commercial amenities.

On top of this, they also acted as travel coordinators for entertainment shows from the states. One of the most notable, to me, I saw because I was hired to operate one of the two spotlights the show required. Sponsored by Lucky Strike, I recall they called it “Your Hit Parade,” featuring a bunch of talented unknowns in a variety format.

While I was whiling away my time in the back of the large downtown auditorium where the show was being presented, I looked the program over. Hmm… Barbara Banks. Now, I’d gone to school with a Barbara Banks at Arkansas State Teachers College (700 students, a record. It is now the University of Central Arkansas with some 13,000 students). Besides the fact that she was a sweet, pretty blonde, she was also at the end of her reign as a Miss Arkansas.

I was NOT expecting “my” Barbara Banks; after all, that’s not a particularly unusual name. But damned if it wasn’t, and she was kind of the center pin of the ensemble.

As soon as the show was over, I headed backstage. She was talking, her back to me, with another girl in the cast. I tapped her on the shoulder, she turned with an annoyed look on her pretty face … and then recognition hit, she screamed my name, and then threw herself into my arms for a very warm hug and kiss.

I was the envy of every guy backstage.

‘NOTHER HEALTH UPDATE

2007-10-19T02:04:00.000-05:00

Well, an interesting visit with my oncologist, Michael, today.

The past three or four days has seen me very, very tired, and sleeping much more than is normal, even for a sack rat like me. Turns out there’s a reason: I’m seriously anemic, the reading low enough to qualify for Medicare-paid transfusions (you’ve got to have a certain reading before the government pays for transfusions. Bureaucrats pretending to be doctors).

BUT …

Michael doesn’t want to transfuse me. He says that starts a roller coaster ride, where you start out feeling tired and run-down, so you get a transfusion and feel really good (trust me: you do) again … until you start going downhill once more.

Reason? Michael told us that it’s because transfused red cells don’t survive in your body as long as red cells you’ve generated yourself.

With that in mind, Michael’s nurse Cheryl gave me a massive shot of Procrit™, a cute little drug that’s made from human plasma, and designed to encourage your body to grow its own red cells.

Another shot of same next Thursday. In the meantime, we’re going to have to go to a 3 weekly chemo treatments, then two weeks off, before going back to 3 more weekly treatments. Once a week consistently is, apparently, just a tad more than my body wants to handle.

I will get weaker and dizzier before my body starts pulling itself back together … but I still have the strength to run the ole laptop, and I DON’T have to go into the hospital again, something I had a suspicion might happen before this day is out.

Have a great day!

SIMPLE SOLUTIONS ARE BEST

2007-10-18T08:33:00.001-05:00

HEALTH UPDATE

2007-10-17T08:09:00.000-05:00

I haven’t reported anything much on this because, frankly, there hasn’t been much to report.

I’ve got some noticeable weakness in my knees and left elbow. If I hold my hands awkwardly, I can get a minor, annoying case of the shakes in the hand.

Had my weekly bout of near-nausea the other day. Tried showing off yesterday by putting a fresh pair of jockey shorts on while standing up. Managed to get snagged and then fall right on my – literally -- bony ass. Only my dignity and my right buttock suffered any damage.

Tomorrow is my periodic visit with my marvelous oncologist, Michael, for a progress report. After that, probably back to my weekly chemo. That’s simple: one poke with the needle, put on my headphones, then put myself to sleep with my 30gb iPod Nano (what a MARVELOUS invention!)

I don’t think, incidentally, that I ever passed on to you the marvelous piece of sophistry regarding loss of hair that was sent to me by one of my tens of readers (and now I can’t remember who is was). She said that, if you had three hairs left, you could braid them. Two left and you can part ‘em down the middle. One hair remaining, you can do a comb-over.

And if there’s no hair left, you don’t have to worry about it.

Have a great day, my friends!

Now, HERE'S an idea:

2007-10-16T06:10:00.000-05:00

MESSAGE TO/FROM MOM

2007-10-15T06:47:00.001-05:00

In some places in this land of ours, the beginning of a new school year is accompanied by the visit of Children’s Rights Advocates, who visit kids in the classroom and carefully explain to them what their parents CAN’T do to/for them.

Then they encourage the kids to rat out their mothers/fathers to the authorities.

My personal feelings on this are rather strong, since I have one grandson whose discipline to date has consisted of “time outs.” I worry about the life awaiting kids brought up this way, when they find out the Real World isn’t that forgiving: if you’re supposed to show up for work at 8 a.m. and habitually drag in at 8:33 if you decide to show up at all, you really won’t understand when your ass gets fired.

My kids learned early that Dad delivered a message three times: if the third time was necessary, it was accompanied by physical discomfort (usually slaps across the back of the hands, which produced the desired effect without fear of injury).

I didn’t have to hit either kid again after the age of about six.

The following was send to us by Little Irvin, down outside Houston. It comes around every couple of years, and is so instructive and fitting that we are delighted to pass it on to you.

Poem to MOM

My son came home from school one day,
With a smirk upon his face.
He decided he was smart enough,
To put me in my place.

'Guess what I learned in Civics Two,
that's taught by Mr. Wright?
It's all about the laws today,
The 'Children's Bill of Rights.'

It says I need not clean my room,
Don't have to cut my hair
No one can tell me what to think,
Or speak, or what to wear.

I have freedom from religion,
And regardless what you say,
I don't have to bow my head,
And I sure don't have to pray.

I can wear earrings if I want,
And pierce my tongue & nose.
I can read & watch just what I like,
Get tattoos from head to toe.

And if you ever spank me,
I'll charge you with a crime.
I'll back up all my charges,
With the marks on my behind.

Don't you ever touch me,
My body's only for my use,
Not for your hugs and kisses,
that's just more child abuse.

Don't preach about your morals,
Like your Mama did to you.
That's nothing more than mind control,
And it's illegal, too!

Mom, I have these children's rights,
So you can't influence me,
Or I'll call Children's Services Division,
Better known as C.S.D.'

Mom's Reply and Thoughts

Of course, my first instinct was
To toss him out the door.
But the chance to teach him a lesson
Made me think a little more.

I mulled it over carefully,
I couldn't let this go.
A smile crept upon my face:
he's messing with a pro.

Next day I took him shopping
At the local Goodwill Store..
I told him, 'Pick out all you want,
there's shirts & pants galore.

I've called and checked with C.S.D .
Who said they had no cares
If I bought you K-Mart shoes
Instead of those Nike Airs.

I've canceled that appointment
To take your driver's test.
The C.S.D. Is unconcerned
So I'll decide what's best. '

I said 'No time to stop and eat,
Or pick up stuff to munch.
And tomorrow you can start to learn
To make your own sack lunch.

Just save the raging appetite,
And wait till dinner time.
We're having liver and onions,
A favorite dish of mine.'

He asked 'Can I please rent a movie,
To watch on my VCR?'
'Sorry, but I sold your TV,
For new tires on my car.
I also rented out your room,
You'll take the couch instead.
The C .S. D. Requires
Just a roof over your head.

Your clothing won't be trendy now,
I'll choose what we eat.
That allowance that you used to get,
Will buy me something neat.

I'm selling off your jet ski,
Dirt-bike & roller blades.
Check out the 'Parents Bill of Rights',
It's in effect today!

Hey, hot shot, are you crying,
Why are you on your knees?
Are you asking God to help you out,
Instead of C.S.D?'

MOM (Mean Old Mother.)

77 – MINDGAMES AND ME – Three B

2007-10-14T06:25:00.001-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

What happened was that a North Korean journalist got himself shipped to Panmunjon to cover the interminable “peace talks”. Even though NK personnel were watched like hawks by their sponsors, this one was canny enough to hide himself in the frame of a U.S. Army truck. Once he got to South Korea, he asked for political asylum.

Now, defectors – in both directions – were ordinarily feted, interviewed, briefly shown off, and then quietly taken out and shot. This journalist was the exception and, after having his brain milked for a few days, a big news conference was called so the media could hear the story for themselves, from one of their own.

There were so many movie cameras, lights, and tape machines that it kept blowing out the power. We’d brought two tape machines, one big AC machine, and a smaller portable machine. We got MOSTof the conference on the big, good machine. The rest of it was on the portable.

What it boiled down to is that we were the only ones with ALL of the conference. It was in pieces, but we had the ONLY complete recording.

Orders came down from very on high to edit the damn thing together TODAY and then make 24 copies for distribution to the government and the various news media.

Because it was a Saturday, none of our translators were around, so the Major – who was fluent in Korean – was supposed to come out to my studio and supervise the reassembly job, using the “good” tape as much as possible and the others to fill in the gaps.

I got everything set up … and no Major, so I decided to try something while I was waiting: I started editing my own version of the tape, using electronic editing instead of cutting the master tapes up, just in case, as I fully expected to happen, I screwed things up. It also allowed me to match sound levels so that the inserts weren’t so noticeable. (You weren’t supposed to be able to do electronic editing on Ampex machines because they were notorious for putting a loud “bang” on the tape every time recording started. If you knew the secret, you could avoid the bang. I knew the secret).

Needless to say, working simultaneously on three tape decks and trying to find identical sounds in a foreign language kept my attention focused, so much so that I barely noticed when the Major came in and sat down and watched the show. Finally, at a convenient spot, he said, “I didn’t know you spoke Korean.” I don’t. “Then how are you … ?” and his hand waved at my workspace. “Phonetics” was my somewhat terse reply.

The Major made not one single correction to my editing.

Now we were faced with making 24 copies of a 25-minute tape, and doing it before the sun went down.

I knew that our colleagues over at AFKN (Armed Forces Korean Network) radio and television had an audiotape duplicating room, and pulled some friendship strings to get us into it for a few hours. Then they started telling me how it worked which, basically, involved putting your master tape on one machine, blank tapes on the other five or six, and then running them simultaneously. Half-hour show and, a half-hour later, six copies.

From somewhere, I dredged up the knowledge that there was a better, faster way to do this, so I said “Thank you. I’ll let you know when we’re done.” That done, I fast-forwarded my master to the end and cut off the excess tape. Then I reloaded the master so that it was ass-first. I set it on double speed. I set the slave machines on double speed, and we were off and running.

As soon as the first set was made, in about 13 minutes, my crew fast-forwarded the copies while I rewound and re-cued the master. They re-loaded the slaves and we were off to the races again.

Total time for 24 copies: well under two hours. The Major, who’d been there for the whole process, checked one of the copies for quality, and then took off with the copies. Meanwhile, the AFKN guys wanted to know what I did to get those out so quick, so I told them. They later told me that it had cut their duping time down to about 40% of what it had been.

In gratitude, they gave us a complete AFRTS record library that they had spare. Since VUNC was not part of the A-Farts (Armed Forces Radio and Television Service) set-up, this was no small favor. There were about a thousand 16” discs involved, everything from complete programs to the latest hits.

The Major was impressed. So much so that he told me he was going to replace two guys with .. me. One of them was an ex-night club comedian named Don Silverman. He produced the Korean-language, European classical music series. He had been doing the show in our Tokyo studios (the same ones from which Tokyo Rose did her notorious programs during WW II), but proved such a monumental pain in the ass that they finally threw him out of Japan and sent him to us.

The other guy, Ralph Chapman, did the daily English Hour. Ralph was from the Boston area (WHAV, the Voice of Haverhill) and had just been told he was going to be the host of a new concept in programming on WBZ, the Westinghouse TV station in Boston. They were going to call it “Bandstand” and feature hit recording groups. Unfortunately, about this time, Ralph got his draft notice, so the job went to some kid nobody’d ever hard of, fellow name of Dick Clark.

To say Ralph was a bit bitter doesn’t even begin to touch the emotion.

So, here I was, at the mercy of these two guys for 12-14 hours a day. At that time, I was the kind of kid who’d get insulted and then think of the perfect comeback … at 3 the next morning.

Day after day, hour after hour, the sole target of their acid-tongued humor.

Then, one night while I was asleep, something snapped. I got up the next morning and, after breakfast, walked into the studio. Ralph gave me the first shot … and I immediately gave him a perfect shot in return. Did the same thing to Silverman, too, when he started in on me. The two of them looked at me the way proud poppas do their newborn sons.

After that, I was a full-fledged member of the club.

First, Ralph went home. I got a new announcer, but I produced and scripted the shows. Then it was time for Silverman to go back to what we euphemistically called “The Land of the Big PX.” This left me with the classical music show too which, fortunately, had a large number of libraried programs.

Until the Major called me in and told me that he wanted 135 new classical music shows before I could come back to the states.

Let me give you an idea of the magnitude of this assignment. First, these shows were two hours long. Second, they were in Korean which, as I’ve said, I know few clean words of. Second, my music sources were Voice of America tapes .. JAPANESE language VOA tapes. The cue sheets had running time and music titles in English; everything else in Japanese.

Now, you’re probably asking yourself, “How do you write Korean when you don’t write Korean?” Theoretically, it’s simple. You write the script in English. You send it out to a translator. You take what they produce to ANOTHER, unrelated translator who takes the Korean copy and translates it out into English. Then you compare what came out with what went in. Make revisions as necessary, keeping in mind that Korean was, at that time, a pretty simplistic language, so time consumed was less in Korean than in English.

Then you bring in a Korean-language announcer.

Well, between spending an awful lot of time in the 8^th Army Library, writing, and editing, spare time was at a premium. It was during this period that I became a coffee addict.

Finally, one day, I walked into the Major’s office. “Major,” I told him, “I’ve got 127 new episodes on the shelf. Now, you can keep me here until Sygman Rhee (then-President of South Korea) dies of old age, but that’s all you’re getting. I’ve used all the source material I’ve got, so that’s it.”

I expected flack; what I got was a smile and the comment, “That’s more than I expected. Here are your orders. Have a good trip home.”

Smart man, the Major.

I ended my time in the Army running the radio station at DeWitt Army Hospital, Ft. Belvoir, VA. This was after a lamentable period in which certain individual members of the Army tried to soundly screw me. This, through the good offices of Senator John McClellan, resulted in a small Congressional Investigation, and orders from On High to transfer me to the Military District of Washington.

The day before I was due to get out, I was taken in front of a Promotion Board, offered a promotion to sergeant and my own radio station in Eritrea. I regrettably thanked them and took my Release from Active Duty. I already had a job at a radio station in South Carolina as Assistant Manager and Program Director .. at 21 years of age, due entirely to my military experience.

NEXT: Off-duty in Korea

77 – MINDGAMES AND ME – Three A

2007-10-13T10:41:00.001-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

(I forgot to mention I played with a jazz trio at Ft. Slocum. We played the NCO Club every Friday night. 15 bucks a man, an impressive sum considering we made less than $100 a month in salary. Our predecessors on the gig were getting $30 total for a quartet).

Korea was an education, internally and externally. In fact, my time in the service was one of the two most self-expanding periods in my life. For the first time, I was operating with a large degree of independence and creativity, and I thrived on it.

The assignment for me and my buddies, Blackie and Paul, was to US Army Broadcasting and Video Activities, Far East, Korea Detachment. We were a totally self-contained unit: motor pool, dining hall, engineering, studios, 3 whopping big diesel generators. Part of our brain trust worked downtown in our offices in the Korean Broadcasting System building. The rest of us worked at our compound, about a mile from 8^th Army Headquarters. (Details back in the In Memoriam entries earlier in this series).

Designed to be completely mobile, in case the flag ever went

up again, things were installed in semi-trailers. The one at

the left held our 5kw AM transmitter, the little hallway

building held our two 250w short wave transmitters.

To the right, butt out, was our Master Studio, to its right,

side-on, was our Production Studio that eventually became

my primary responsibility. The generators were housed

in a good-size building just out of camera range to your left.

Next to the transmitter was our helicopter pad. In case

the NK’s ever came south, the Plan was that choppers would

come in and take most personnel out, the rest would drive

the equipment out. We had so much faith in that plan that

telephone poles with basketball hoops on them were planted

firmly on both sides of the helipad. You couldn’t have

landed a chopper on there with the best pilot in the world.

Our 3 radio stations (one AM, two short wave) went under the name VUNC (Voice of the United Nations Command. High-falutin’ name for a totally Army operation). We went on the air at 5 in the afternoon with a carefully scripted hour of English-language entertainment programming, and then 18-1/2 hours of Korean, Cantonese, and Mandarin.

I made my first rep my first night there, as we were getting a casual tour. We were in the Master Control Room and I scoped out the control console in about five minutes (they all do the same things; it’s just a matter of finding the location of the important ones). Then I took the time cues from our Tokyo studios and, as much from blind luck as skill, hit the feed right on the button.

Part of the console in the Master Control Studio. Through the

window was the announce studio and library. Behind the

photographer’s position was two racks full of tape decks.

Worked studio for a few months, then became the Company Quirk (Clerk?) for a bit, carrying my .45 automatic until I scoped out how 8^th Army administration worked. This is not as simple as it sounds, where we were

concerned, because 8^th Army was responsible for our support and supply, but NOT our personnel. To a good administrative manipulator who’s made friends in low places, that represents an irresistible challenge.

Good thing, too, because we managed to bodysnatch two clerk/typists from the 8^th Army personnel pool, people to whom we were not at all entitled. The major never asked, which meant the First Sergeant didn’t dare: for all he knew, the Major had put me up to it.

Since one of those two purloined clerk/typists was my replacement in the orderly room, my next assignment was being given my very own studio van/control room, producing the daily English-language program. It was in this venue that I executed the coupe de main in my Far East Odyssey which, in common with so many of my accomplishments, didn’t seem particularly noteworthy at the time but, long years later, amaze me. There are, you see, certain advantages to being so stupid and inexperienced that you don‘t realize you’re not supposed to be able to do something.

NEXT: Korea continues.

BRIEF UPDATE

2007-10-12T08:57:00.000-05:00

(a) Next two days will be lllloooonnnnnggggg entries. Enjoy the brevity of this one.

(b) Chemo day yesterday. No unsual occurences. See the doctor again next Thursday.

(c) Remind me to telll you about natural casing Chicago hot dogs. I found a source!

LETTERS, WE GET LETTERS ..

2007-10-11T08:56:00.000-05:00

Dandy Don passes this on to us:

To my darling husband,

Before you return from your business trip I just want to let you know about the small accident I had with the pick up truck when I turned into the driveway. Fortunately not too bad and I really didn't get hurt, so please don't worry too much about me.

I was coming home from Wal-Mart, and when I turned into the driveway I accidentally pushed down on the accelerator instead of the brake. The garage door is slightly bent` but the pick up fortunately came to a halt
when it bumped into your car.

I am really sorry, but I know with your kind-hearted personality you will forgive me. You know how much I love you and care for you my sweetheart. I am enclosing a picture for you.

I cannot wait to hold you in my arms again.

Your loving wife.
XXX

P.S. Your girlfriend called.

SORRY 'BOUT DAT

2007-10-10T09:28:00.000-05:00

Sorry I'm running behind on running new installments.

A Victorian gentleman once wrote one of his many correspondents, "I apologize for going on at such great length, but I have not the time to be brief." My problem is that, with so much source material, how do I select the ones that are simultaneously illustrative and, God willing, reasonably entertaining? It takes time.

We'll get there. Meanwhile, thanks for visiting.

Here's your reward:

LIFE AT OUR CORNER

2007-10-09T02:30:00.001-05:00

HAPPY, HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY

2007-10-08T07:10:00.000-05:00

I was pleasantly surprised at the sizeable number of birthday wishes I got in the e-mail yesterday. They came from all over, one all the way from Oregon, another from Arizona. Even the Pepsi-Cola folks sent me a video for my birthday.

Possibly the most unique came from Flo, up in Long Island:

There once was a man named Tom Pry

Whose hair is now bidding him "Goodbye".

He opened his birthday gift

and yelled in a fit

"I NEED A WIG,, NOT ANOTHER NECKTIE" ! !

Thanks, gang!

RANDOM THOUGHTS

2007-10-07T07:59:00.000-05:00

(Say “Happy birthday, Tom.” Good. It’s #69, a mark my father just missed).

Last year, while my esteemed friend and former HS classmate, Dr. Robert Miller, D.D.S., was making my new choppers, I had a moment of revelation.

“Robert,” I said, “I’ve always prided myself on having no vanities and I’ve just discovered that ain’t true. I DO have a vanity.” He looked at me, questioningly (Robert’s never been a big talker). “Hair.” An arched eyebrow from my audience of one. “My vanity is my hair. I’ve got this bushy mane of it and so many of my peers lost theirs a long time ago.”

Well, God has his way of getting the last laugh in just about any situation. Karen is now threatening to get a shoeshine cloth with which to buff my head. The saving grace here is that I’m told that, when chemo is over, it’ll grow back, probably bushier than ever.

Speaking of Robert, his work was pricey but, like Walt Disney World, you got your money’s worth. What I find suspect is that, right after I paid for my new teeth, he announced that he finally had enough money on which to retire, and did exactly that. Hmmm…

Incidentally, Robert has a long-time hobby, what’s called Wood Turning. Two of my wife’s proudest possessions are a couple of pieces of his work. Take a look yourself. Go to http://www.artofthelathe.com to see artistry in wood.

Have a nice day. I’m planning to. Thanks for sharing it with me.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ …

2007-10-06T06:01:00.000-05:00

Our good friend, Irwin, down outside Houston, sent us the following, with the suggestion that all American businesses might consider using it for their automated answering systems.

Looks attractive to me.

GOOD MORNING, WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Press "1" for English.

Press "2" to disconnect until you learn to speak English!

And remember only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you,

Jesus Christ

and the American Soldier.

One died for your soul, the other for your freedom.

If you agree......keep it going!

Otherwise, please press 2!

CHEMO DAY TODAY

2007-10-05T07:14:00.001-05:00

Just a brief update …

My hair keeps coming out. Pretty soon I’ll have to start signing things as “Chrome Dome” Pry. (All that glitters is not gold).

Other than that, a quiet week. One brief and minor bout of near-nausea and, otherwise, just being tired and sleeping a lot.

Have a nice weekend. I’ll see if I can continue my mental wanderings, if anyone’s interested

77 – MINDGAMES AND ME – Two

2007-10-04T06:35:00.001-05:00

MEMORIES OF A TRANSPLANTED Y**K** - LXXVII

(Oh, did I forget to tell you? Probably the most unique job I had in high school was serving as the artificial insemination technician for the county dairy cattle breeding association).

This same intellectual self-avoidance followed me into the armed services.

I realized near the end of my freshman year in college that I’d just pissed away a year of my life. Wrong major AND minor, meaning about 40 hours of credit down the tubes. No money. No heart, it having just been well-broken.

I had, earlier in the year, passed the Marine Aviation Platoon Leaders Course for both myself and a buddy of mine. Had I stayed in college, the summers between my sophomore, junior and senior years would’ve been consumed with, essentially, Marine Corps basic training and ROTC officer’s basic.

Academic: everyone wanted me, based on my AFQT tests and aptitude tests. I settled for the Army, mainly because it allowed me to pick my school. As much as I wanted to get to Germany, I wanted the school more, and I could only have one or the other.

The AFQT scale meant nothing to me. Learned only years later that my score was VERY high: essentially, I was qualified for any school in the catalog, except for those requiring foreign languages.

I chose the Army Information School, one of the most unique and unusual places I’ve ever been in my life.

To begin with, it was both officers and enlisted men and women, domestic and foreign. (We had a well-mustachioed RCAF sergeant in the class. When he hit, they had to start buying an extra case of gin at the NCO Club every month).

Our educations ranged all over the lot. A few of us were your basic high school graduates. My roommate, Les, was a UCLA grad who, so far as I’ve ever been able to determine, was this country’s first black TV announcer.

Next door, a career Foreign Service officer on six month active duty. Down the hall, the unlikely-named John Quincy Adams who, despite the patrician name, was black. He was also the recent recipient of a doctorate in philosophy from Columbia University.

I think we also had Marty Maher, the legendary West Point personality about whom they made the excellent film, “The Long Gray Line.”

Interesting assemblage, a number of whom I met again, overseas, some months later.

Anyway, the school was described to us as a 16-week school compressed into an 8-week schedule. USARIS, as the school was listed, trained us in training aids concept and creation, newswriting, photo captioning, publication, International Political Science (with special emphasis on Communism), Geography, Military Information Rules, Troop Information procedures, Public Information procedures, Propaganda Techniques – and we ran through a truckload of film and photo processing supplies a week, shooting 4X5 Speed Graphic cameras.

Did our own darkroom processing, too.

This was, of course, in addition to Remedial Typing at night for those who couldn’t manage a minimum 25 w.p.m.

Our instructors ranged all the lot, too. Everything from corporals to Lt. Colonels. One guy was trying to go through his six months with a low profile, but the faculty made it their first priority to go through our files. When they found out this guy was the highest priced portrait photographer in the Boston area, they yanked his happy ass out of the class and made him an instructor for the duration.

We also had a professor from Brooklyn College, a major who was the Army’s top specialist in Communism; this latter worthy’s next assignment after us was to the faculty of the Army’s Staff and War College.

They were The Best and intended to make that of us, too.

My little group of 13 out of about 160 total students had two further requirements: (1) Written proof of prior civilian broadcast experience, and (b) passing a really stiff practical test/demonstration in the larger of the two complete radio studios/control rooms we had there.

Two guys didn’t make the cut. They were sent to the Heavy Construction Equipment Operator’s School at Ft. Leonard Wood, MO. Probably ended up making more money at that than any of us survivors did in the course of their careers.

Aced the school, despite plenty of time spent in New York City (including one unforgettable night at the legendary Birdland, listening to Cal Tjader alternating with Dizzy Gillespie’s big band … with Dizzy coming over to sit at our table and talk to us during a break).

Got married on leave and then left for Korea.

NEXT: Life in the Army.

AS I WAS SAYING ....

2007-10-03T06:54:00.000-05:00