They're Called Pony Cars for a Reason

A lot will be written about Mustangs in the next few months, during the run-up the 50th anniversary in April, both about the old original 64-1/2 models and the 2014 ones.

But this post, over at The Truth About Cars caught my eye. Can you imagine owning a car for almost 50 years?

More importantly, can you imagine owning one of the most iconic cars in American Automotive history for 50 years?

Today it's hard to imagine the impact the Mustang had. we aren't as car crazy as we once were, and the shear proliferation of makes and models makes the introduction of a new model something only the real car nerds will slobber over.

But in April of 1964 it was a big deal. Ford, GM and Chrysler had the market almost to themselves. American Motors sold a few cars, and Studebaker was still selling a few as well. The European makers were specialty only; Mercedes, BMW Jaguar, Rolls Royce at the high end, and Triumph, MG and Morgan on the sport side. And Volkswagen; making a few inroads but by any means a powerhouse. There were a few Japanese makers starting to show up on the roads on the West Coast, but Chevy sold more cars in 1963 than all imports combined.

But they were starting to make there presence known; the drive for fuel economy had started. Chevy had the Corvair, and Ford the Falcon, but the Falcon lacked sex appeal.

And then Lee Iaccoca showed off the Mustang. Basically a Falcon with a new body shape; it did exactly what Ford wanted it to do; sell over half a million cars a year. Ford hadn't had a sales demon like this since the introduction of the Model A back in 1928; almost 50 years earlier.

And 50 years later those cars are still desirable. I have known 2 of the original '64-1/2 - 66 model Mustangs.

My Uncle had a '66 Fastback 2+2; V-8 powered and that reddish-orange color that looks so good on a Mustang of that vintage; similar to the one above. But his had hubcaps with spinners, not the factory sport wheels. It had a black interior, and he took my cousin and I (both of us his 6 year old nephews) a ride in it one Sunday. I remember taking the ride, and being in the car, but the ride itself is a blur. I don't know if it is a blur because of the speed we were traveling at, or because it was 50 years ago and I was only 6.

But I do remember that car.

Another was a '65 model my Aunt (my Uncle's sister) had for a while. I was 14 or 15 at the time, so it would have been a 10 year old car at the time. And it was not what some would have considered collectable. Unlike the car in the article- with the convertible, V-8 and sport options, my Aunt's car was a 6 cylinder and a three speed column shift with a bench seat. It looked like a Mustang on the outside, but the inside was still straight Falcon. The color didn't help either. Instead of Baby Blue, it was brown, inside and out.

Of course, I would give almost anything to have either one of them today. My Uncle died in '68 and I have no idea what happened to his car. My Aunt's was the same way; it was there for a year or so, but one visit it was gone.

It takes a special person to keep a car for 50 years.

Need a Rocking Chair?

I'll bet he doesn't.

This video makes me feel like I have spent too much of my life sitting still, and I am few years short in age from the hero of this video.

I don't use the word hero lightly. Heroism isn't always a single instant; sometimes it is a lifetime.

A blogger I visit regularly- Sippican Cottage- tends to find videos like this; maybe he has time to hunt for them. 

Go ahead; watch the video. I'll be here when you get back.

Here we have a man who is working daily, just as he has for more than probably 80 years. Still going , and not intention of stopping. Working at a physical job. One that men 50, 60 even 70 years his junior wouldn't do. He has made a living working hard. He probably isn't rich by Wall Street standards, but he probably is by Arkansas standards.

He has a job he loves- I can't imagine doing something I hated at his age, and family around him.

There is a commercial I have seen on TV once or twice that talks about retirement, and defines it as paying yourself to do what you want to do, by saving for it now.

And then you run into Mr. Bump, who, at the age of 95 is still letting somebody else pay him to do what he wants to do.

Now that is what I would call an embarrassment of riches.

Something That Should Suck, Doesn't

I may have mentioned the other day that my wife was having problems with her vacuum cleaner. what it boils down to is she needs a new filter. I'll get into that later; right now I need to rant.

I have been working on vacuum cleaners for years. Its what a Redneck does; he fixes- or at least TRIES to fix things. Part of it is because usually it is cheaper to fix something than buy a new one, and part of it is the challenge of taking something that doesn't work, figuring out why it doesn't work, and then figuring out to make it work again.

With vacuums 90% of the time it is a clogged hose or a busted belt. Anything else and the cost of the parts is more than the cost of a new unit. But this vacuum is a new breed; for me anyway. No bag; it has a clear plastic tub you have to empty. And it has a filter! I figure the filter takes the place of the bags. Not as a dirt holder, but as something you need to keep buying to make sure the device functions.

The filter is where the problem is. I will say this for this little thing; it can suck up some dirt. I'd swear  the basement is cleaner after vacuuming the living room carpet; it is that efficient. But the tub is small, and needs to be emptied after each use. which isn't really a bad thing, or a hard thing.

But the filter; it needs to be cleaned almost weekly. It has a foam pre-filter, and then a paper HEPA filter. Trust me, no dirt escapes this thing. If it picks it up, it stays picked up. Unlike some other vacuums I have used, that manage to not really clean the room, but just redistribute the dust to areas other than the carpet.

Like my lungs.

Anyway, I usually clean the filter every weekend, just as a precaution. Last weekend I forgot; hey- it was a busy weekend. Which is why on Tuesday my wife cleaned the filter. The paper, HEPA filter. With water.

Yeah; it killed it. And I don't have a spare.

Surely A local store will have one. Wanna bet? Apparently this is a rare beast. I haven't been to a specialty vacuum shop yet, but nowhere else I have stopped has one.

The Hell with this running around bit. That's why they invented the internet, right?

Bissell has a website- a great website, by the way- I found my part in less than a minute. $3.99? Lets buy two! On to checkout; lets find out how much the shipping will be. And the website crashed.

Not a problem; redoing everything took only a few seconds; on to checkout.... and the website crashed.

Well that sucks. Ummm; no pun intended.

Wait a minute; they have an 800 number, and they are open on a Sunday; all is not lost!

I get right through - to some one who speaks English as a first language; another plus! But that was the last of the good news. Since the website was down, so was their phone in ordering system.

Well that sucks. Okay; maybe I did intend a pun.

But; they expect everything to be operational shortly.

Shortly? Whose got time for shortly? On to Amazon! I should have gone there first; probably cheaper too.

Yes the do have them; for $8.95!?!?!?!

Wait; here one for $2.95; that's more like it. $4.95 for shipping?!?!?!? This thing weighs less that a first class letter; shipping should be $1.95 tops.

But the $9.00 version has free shipping. So... 4 bucks for the filter and 5 bucks to ship it. Those sound like familiar figures. Maybe I can find a better deal; Hell; it looks like everybody has this filter. No wonder I can't find one at Wal-Mart; the internet has all of them... For $8.95 each. No wonder we got such a great deal on the vacuum; it looks like they are following the Lexmark example- FREE PRINTERS!; expensive ink.

Maybe I do have time for 'shortly'.

Back to the Bissell website; this time they are up. I have to 'join the Bissell Club' before I can order; do I want emails about their special offers? Uh. NO?

Then the obligatory method of payment screen, and BOOM; I have two new filters on the way for about $6.50 each, including shipping.

And they should be here in 5 business days.

D'oh! that's what I hate about internet shopping; no instant gratification. But that is another story.

We Are Dismayed

There is one thing about writing; sometimes it is easy, and sometimes it is hard. Sometimes an email 10 paragraphs long is a 10 minute operation, and sometimes a few lines can take an hour. Sometimes it isn't what you need to say, but how you need to say it.

Words have meanings, and words have moods. Sometimes the use of one word will convey the right meaning, but the wrong mood. The meaningless email on procedure; easy. The simply stated email on how you feel about an recent event; hard.

Part of it is using the right word to convey the right feeling; sometimes it's avoiding the word you don't want to use. How many times have we written pages of words to avoid using one?

Sorry.

Yep; that's the one.

We need to let someone know we have erred; but we can't admit to the error.

We are dismayed at the consequences, that possibly may have, at some point, might have been caused by an unintended action, however direct or indirect, on our part, and want you to know that we are aware of the consequences, whatever little a part we may have played in the events leading to these consequences.

Maybe because sorry conveys meaning we don't want to use; like fault.

Want to start a long conversation with your kids? Find a recent event, drag them all together in to one room and ask who's fault the incident was. Guarantee the first words out of the culprits mouth will be "so & so made me do it"; shorthand for "we are dismayed...yada, yada, yada.

And then so & so will have his version of events which accounts for all of the blame, none of which happens to land on his shoulders. And will usually drag yet a third party into the fray.

Just for this entertainment value, I would usually buy some dime store bric-a-brac at a yard sale for a nickel, place it prominently in the living room, with the explanation that this was an heirloom of great value, handed down many generations; irreplaceable.

Within a week I would sweeping the shards up from the floor. Knowing what was coming the boys would make themselves scarce; hiding out somewhere. Waiting on the call they knew was coming.

And working on alibis.

The inevitable meeting would take place; the inevitable words spoken: Who's Fault?

The following conversations would take many words; some rather erudite, and probably cribbed from the Complete Works of Shakespeare  I kept on the bookshelf; others rather simple. But even the simplest speaker seemed able to go on and on without mentioning one simple word:

Sorry.

See how easy it is? I have managed to say Sorry multiple times in the last few minutes.

But then, I don't have anything to be sorry about.

God v Dog

You knew I would have to blog about this; it is just too good of an opportunity to let pass. It is almost the quintessential debate between Religion and Science.

I say almost because this was only about one aspect of Religion, and only one aspect of Science; where did we come from, and how long ago?

If you watched the video one commenter noted that his debate had not become heated, like so many others of this type. Why do they become heated?

Because both are a belief system. It isn't impossible to believe in both books- The Bible and On The Origin of Species- although it does require you to take The Old Testament of The Bible as allegorical, and not literal.

My problem with Science can best be illustrated by the (you guessed it) Global Warming debacle. Scientists lied, and belief in Science died. Fool me once; shame on you. Fool me twice; shame on me.

Like it or not, only a percentage of Science can be proven. Most of modern science is built on the sands of Theory. Logical, but unproven, theory. The math for Einstein's Theory of Relativity can be reproduced, but that doesn't prove the theory correct; only proves his math was correct.

The same with Darwin. Examining his evidence and coming to the same conclusion only proves that his theory is logical, not that it is correct.

And we have become accustomed to accepting the truth of what we are told by science; because they should know. How do feel about believing not in the Facts of Science, but the Guesses of Science?

We have all seen the drawings of what "our" ancient ancestors looked like. Did you know that most of those images are not based on a full skeleton, or even a collection of individual bones from several individuals, but usually on one or two bones and a few fragments? Some digger finds a jawbone and a fibula in the guano of a cave and the next thing you know we have a new, 1.5 million year old 'ancestor'.
The image is a guess, based on the few things they do know; The age is also a guess, based on the assumed age of where they were found.

This is not to say that all of the theories and guesses are incorrect; there not. It just that we are taught the is a proven fact, when all it really is is a very logical, probably well supported, guess.

Carbon dating is at best another guess, based on observable science extrapolated out over several centuries. We have nothing that is proven by other methods to be 'X' thousands of years old to test and prove the theory; it is based on the observable difference in a few years- even a lifetime isn't a significant portion of the history of the Earth, no matter who's figures you believe.

I also have a hard time believing the physical laws are not some grand design. Look at Water. Snow; Ice; Steam and Water all have the same chemical makeup; H2O- two hydrogen atoms bonded to a single  oxygen atom. Yet, unlike almost any other substance, it EXPANDS when chilled. Which means bodies of water ice over, protecting the fish in the water below. When frozen as a vapor it forms Snow, which when it falls insulates the earth beneath it,  protecting the plants and animals from a freeze. And the cycle of evaporation and rain; providing water to plants far from a source water on a regular basis; plants that the animals need for sustenance.

To me, those features of Water are proofs of a Theory; a Theory that we aren't here by some accidental failure or accidental coupling millions of years ago.

We live in a world designed for us. Now; Science- prove me wrong.

Flash Fiction Friday

You don't see buildings like this today; buildings that share a purpose.

But when I was younger that was all you did see. Retail on the ground floor, commercial upstairs. Or living quarters.

Like this place. The first floor was a general store. Notions and bobbins and buttons and candy; what do you need? Dress goods, boots, canning supplies and candles. Lamp wicks, dress hats and all wool long johns, with or without the 3 button drop seat.

Next door, down Robertson Street was the Post Office, and off to the left was the Pharmacy. It was a handy system; Doc Swanson had his office upstairs. He would write a prescription and the pharmacist downstairs would fill it. What what his name again? We all called him Doc, but he wasn't a doctor. what was his name? I went to school with his two kids- brats they truly were. The older boy helped out in the store. John? James? Some things just don't seem to hang around in the old memory. Maybe it ain't that important anyway.

Holiday; that was the Pharmacists name; that's why we all called him Doc. And his boy was Doc-ette; that's why I couldn't recall his name; I doubt I ever used it. The other child was a daughter; always had dresses full of bows, and matching bows in her hair. Her name was Sally, if I recollect. She married a soldier during the War and gone to Texas, far as I know. Doc-ette went off to Pharmacy College, like his Dad. Graduated and then got called up for the war. He was on the Indianapolis when she went down. Doc hung on long as he could, but old age got him in the end, like it does us all. His widow sold the business and moved south to be with Sally and her young ones.

That curved tower room? That was the least popular place in town. That was where Doc Swanson kept his dentist chair. Doc was a pretty durn good country doctor, but he didn't make any claim to being any kind of dentist.

But he was all we had. If you had a bad tooth he pulled it. During the summer months with all of those windows open you could hear the noise for a couple of blocks in any direction. It would start off quiet enough Doc giving directions to the nurse for the pain killer.

Now Nurse- he would say- hand me that bottle of cocaine. Those would would usually draw a crowd on the street corner; the layabouts over by the hardware store would be the first to saunter over, and the checker players by the courthouse would see the layabouts move and know something interesting was in the air and the games would be put on hold until the after the festivities. The kids on the sandlot playing stick ball would see the checker players leave the courthouse square and figure if something was more interesting than checkers, it was more interesting than stick ball too, head over to hang out under Doc Swanson's dental alcove.

The cocaine would work sometimes, or the tooth was loose enough, or maybe Doc just got lucky. And the show would be over before it started.

But there were other days; days when the tooth grippers wouldn't clamp right on the tooth, or the cocaine solution wasn't quite right. Or maybe doc's luck ran out. But instead of hearing Doc say 'SPIT', there would be a holler from the patient. Usually it would be an early attention getter; 'Yo Doc!' was always a favorite, although some of the old farmers would cut loose a volley of profanity that would cause a few windows to close and curtains to get drawn and more than one grin from the checker players, layabouts and stick ball players.

Hold still, Chester, or Earl or Fred; I'm almost done we'd hear the Doc holler. And then the next sound was always a thud, followed by a dull clang. The patient would involuntarily straighten a leg and wind up kicking over Doc's coat rack, which was just tall enough to hit the bottom of the brass umbrella stand when it fell.

Then the moaning would start. Sometimes long and low; others loud as a church bell and almost as deep. And punctuating the moans like a steam whistle through a thunderstorm were Doc's directions, some times to the Nurse, sometimes to the patient/victim and sometimes just a statement directed at nobody in particular: Some more of the cocaine Nurse; Chester sit still and get your dangs hands off my throat! Lord-a-mighty why did I ever start this? Now Chester I can't pull this tooth with you pushing me away like that; Nurse hand me that other pair of forceps; Alright Chester; put that dam knife away; I'll quit.

If the layabouts were lucky the show could go on all afternoon, or at least until Doc ran out of cocaine and patience. But eventually it would end, sending the stick ball players back to the sandlot, the checker players back to the courthouse square and the layabouts back to the hardware store.

At least until another poor soul found himself settling into the chair in the Tower Room.

Is It Education or Not?

I have been reading Walter Williams work for years. If he doesn't hit the bullseye it is a rare thing, and then he is usually in the 9 point ring.

This column is no different.

Why can't these children pass a standardized test? Particularly if hundreds of thousands of other children can?

Lets take a look at the variables. There are basically 3 people involved; the teacher; the pupil and the parents. Yes; I am counting parents as one individual; it will be rare instances when they don't think as one mind when it comes to educating their young.

First stop is the teacher. How many of their pupils passed and how many failed? If the ratio is 10 passes to one fail, or even 7 passes to 3 fails, I doubt this is an issue with the teacher; she or he has been able to connect with a majority of the students and the failure is the aberration.

But what if the ration is 1 pass to 10 fails, or even 3 passes to 7 fails? This is beginning to look like a failure to connect; to instill the needed information in the children. But; there were still children able to pass. Why?

Next we need to look at the student. Some kids want to learn, and will learn anything they are taught. They don't look to see if any of the information is relevant or useful; they soak it up and spit it out as required. Some kids can learn, but choose what they want to learn. They pick up what has been shown to be relevant and useful to them, and reject everything else. Then there are the children who need special attention; they need to be introduced to information on an individual basis, usually, but not always, because of a special need in either mental or physical development.

Then there is the final variable; the parents, or all to often parent. Is school a needed component; do they feel the need for education, or is school just a place that will babysit the little bastards for free for 6-8 hours a day? These attitudes are passed on to the children and will influence their attitudes toward education.

Is the parent willing and able to help the child in the evenings? Parental reinforcement is important for the child to retain what they have learned. If a single parent is overwhelmed it doesn't help the child's ability to learn or study.

Or is the parent involved in the education process? Helping with homework, checking papers when they come home, attending parent teacher conferences? Paying tuition?

Educating a child is a three legged stool; if any of those legs fails, the education fails.

That being said, why were the teachers cheating?

Obviously because the goals couldn't be met by normal methods. Which leg failed?

Unfortunately, there probably isn't a blanket answer, but dozens of individual ones.

Which is another problem with the modern education system; they throw blanket solutions onto individual problems.

The individual answers are as individual as the pupil; the pupil teacher relationship; the community and the community's relationship with the school. We gauge the effectiveness of a school based on a test that has been determined to fit all fifty states; all 3090 Counties, Parishes and Boroughs and the thousands of school districts and hundreds of thousands of schools, teachers and millions of students.

What passes for being educated as a 19 year-old college freshman and a 19 year-old plumber's apprentice are completely different; what type of education is needed for various positions in the labor force or even for various disciplines in education are different as well.

But instead of giving kids a basic education they can take anywhere, we insist on believing that every child should have a liberal arts education; one that requires the study of information that will not have any benefit to the child's abilities as a productive element of society.

Teach a child not just to read, but to comprehend; Teach him to add, subtract, multiply and divide. Teach him the basics of his county's history, and his part in keeping that county strong. Everything else he needs to know he can learn; he now has the tools.

Sounds simple doesn't it? Yet there will be arguments; What constitutes history? Is the history? One of our great conquest or one of our domination and destruction of what was already here? What of science? do we teach evolution of creation?

And again the broad blanket of a one solution gets thrown; but no one-size-fits-all is true. It has always been my experience that one-size-fits-all fits nobody well, and everybody poorly.

Why can't the parent's decide what the education will consist of?  It is there children being educated, and it is their money paying for it.

Besides, what it takes to be educated and employable in the woods of Kentucky is completely different than it is in the jungles of New York.

And you may be able to cheat on a written test; the final exam life gives is usually requires a bit more study.

And is completely different, depending on where your feet are.

Losing a Friend and Companion

Most of us have had pets, like Junior, pictured above. All of us who have had pets have had pets who were not just a part of our lives, but a piece of us.

Most us could not have put our feelings down in words; although some of us have tried.

James Lileks has just lost a pet as well, and has described not only the pet, but the multi-year relationship exquisitely.

For those of us who have lost pets, you will empathize and relive your own pets.

For those who have not; this will introduce you to the experience and the value of that relationship.

Sometimes Getting Sidetracked is a Good Thing

Yesterday the Young 'un asked me to fold her a paper hat. And I couldn't remember how to do it.

Do you remember how? Without looking it up on YouTube?

Yeah; I had to search out directions on Youtube. and found them pretty readily. Do you know what that means?

It means somebody had both time and the equipment to do a video about how to fold a paper hat and to post it to YouTube.

I also didn't have the paper to fold a paper hat; there hasn't been a newspaper in this house in years.

I had a whole train of thought going on with this, but I suddenly had an emergency to deal with in the other room. Apparently the vacuum cleaner has stopped vacuuming. Should have been a simple fix; and it was. The paper filter somehow got wet and that stopped it up completely; no air through the wet paper.

Then I got sidetracked, and completely lost where I was going. (I thought about starting over, but then thought; eh- what the Hell.)

The young 'un was in the living room watching Duck Dynasty. And I just happened to walk in in the middle of the episode where Si handcuffs himself to Willie. And it is the scene where Si needs to pee. While he is riding in Willie's truck.

I don't know what's funnier; Si and Willie, or Jase making the most of this bad (for somebody else) situation.

It has been alleged that Duck Dynasty is scripted. I don't know about scripted; maybe more like Improv. I can see a producer dropping a security belt in the room, and then turning on the cameras. and standing back; definitely standing back. Especially if you have just handed Si a loaded stun gun.

And ya know what? I'll bet Si knows how to fold a paper hat without YouTube.

Well; so do I.

Now.

What Marriage Is. And Isn't.

I had a discussion the other day with a friend about gay marriage that started me to thinking a little deeper about the subject.

I am two fighting factions within myself. I am a libertarian. as long as what you do doesn't affect me, have at it. What ever two consenting adults do in the privacy of their home is fine; I have no objection.

It is when you drag aberrant behavior onto the front porch that my rights kick in.

Marriage had been the purview of religion for thousands of years. It has only been recently that the state has become involved in the regulation of marriage; recently being the last 200 years or so.

When you think about it, marriage today can be separated into two parts; a civil union blessed by the state, and a religious union, blessed by the various religions. For example, you can get married in a church without a marriage license. The marriage is valid within your sect, but will not be recognized by any government. Legally; you aren't married, and are not able to enjoy the legal rights of being married.

Or you can be issued a marriage license, and have a justice of the peace perform the ceremony. Legally you are married, but, depending on your religious beliefs, you are not married in the eyes of God, and can not enjoy the religious benefits of being married.

75% of folks do both. They have a marriage license issued and then have a church wedding. A smaller percentage opt for a civil union, and an even smaller percentage opt for only the religious ceremony.

What do the gays want? A civil union, blessed by the state, or a religious marriage, blessed by God? Some religions already allow same sex marriage, and their clergy have performed many of these rites. There are also some states that allow same sex marriage- none that have put the proposal to a popular vote, by the way- but a few do. So if the gay couple live in the right state, and belong to the right religion, they have both ceremonies performed.

And that is the choice of their state and their religion.

But should that choice to ban or support same sex marriage be taken from me and my religion? That is, I think, the key question, and one that hits on my libertarian stand.

There is some talk that the state should just get out of the marriage business altogether. I disagree. Stable family relationships are the basis for a strong state and strong economy. The state has a distinct interest in promoting and fomenting strong families, and therefore has an interest in marriage. Some of the programs that the state uses to promote marriage and families may or may not be discriminatory, but lets face it, they are an advantage to the majority in this country who have a traditional marriage of Mom, Dad and kids.

It is that family unit that has created a strong social community for the last thousand years, and is worth protecting. The state has valid reasons for promoting and protecting families, and should stay in the marriage business.

So, now we are back to the initial question; what do the gays want? The sob stories we hear all involve the civil part of marriage; rights in hospitals, rights in probate court, rights to adopt children. It would be perfectly possible to solve each of these issues with legal documents that would allow the partners to work through these issues that would not involve the state at all.

There are some issues, like tax filings, that would require a state or federal recognition that the partners were a couple. But how many people will these rule changes affect? Even if it is a million, that is less than a third of a percent in a county of 360 million people. How much upsetting of the apple cart do we want to do for such a smaller percentage of the population? Particularly if there is a large percentage of the population against same sex marriage on religious grounds?

If my religious beliefs preclude me from accepting homosexuality and same sex marriage, can the state force me to accept and support same sex marriage through law?

So, here is the bottom line. In a country of 360 million people we have a million tops who want to marry their same sex partner. We have 190 million who believe that the partners are living in sin, and their coupling shouldn't be.

So what are we denying the same sex couple? We are only denying them the right to have their union recognized by the state.We aren't jailing them, or confining them to a ghetto, or denying them life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness.

We are also maintaining a 'Bright Line', where marriage is a union reserved for a man and a woman. Once that line is moved to include two men or two women, where can the line not be moved to include?

Another Letter From Cousin Throckmorton

I may need to explain Cousin Throckmorton.

He lives down in a Kentucky Holler so deep the 1970's haven't even found their way in yet, much less the new millennium. He writes me occasionally, and sometimes I believe what he has to say is worth sharing. This weeks letter was one of those times.

Dear Cousin Red,

We had a real cold spell this past week, and I don’t believe my bones have thawed out yet. It’s not that I ain’t used ta bein’ cold, but even an Eskimo has his limits. It got so cold we had to invent a new way a’ talkin’ ‘bout it. 

Usta' be we had three levels a’ cold. First was Jacket Weather. That means if y’all is goin’ out the door, an’ ain’t getting’ in the car, take a jacket. The temperature would vary ‘pendin’ on who was talkin’ to who. If it was my Ma talkin ta one a’ her kids, jacket weather started from 60 degrees on down. When tryin’ to impress your buddies, it started at ‘bout zero. 

Ya’ know, when y’all first would get to high school in the mornin’, an’ it’s ‘bout 10 degrees, an’ y’all got icicles hangin’ from every finger, one a’ y’all’s buddies would ask, “Cold out?” An’ y’all had ta answer, “Jacket Weather.”

The next step down was Hat an’ Coat. That started for my Ma at ‘bout 50 degrees. Y’all had mommas, y’all know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Early in spring, when 50 is sweatin’ weather, an’ a little dip in the crick sounds good, as y’all is runnin’ outta the house hollerin’ where y’all is headin’, an’ sure ‘nough, Ma is hollerin’ back “Take your hat an’ coat!”

At what once was the bottom of the list was Get Your Gloves. This level had nuthin’ ta do with temperature, but a lot ta do with snow. It also had a lot ta do with what was goin’ on in the snow. We could spend hours outside without gloves buildin’ snowmen an’ snow forts, havin’ snow ball fights an’ the like, but if’n we had to shovel the dang stuff, first we had ta spend an hour huntin’ for our gloves, an’ hopin for a quick thaw.

This year we had ta add a’nuther step, Full Battle Dress. We had on so many layers a’ clothes, there weren’t no need for closets. We spent so much time so layered up some folks still walk ‘round with there fingers spread out, an’ their arms six inches from their bodies like they can’t get no closer. I ain’t one of ‘em. For me, it was Jacket Weather.    

Best wishes from all of us in the Holler,

Throckmorton Q. Sheisseschnitter

                                                            

Idiots On Parade

Okay; this Global Warming bit has really gotten out of hand.

Really? A hiker trapped by a blizzard for two days? In Hawaii?!?!?!

How on God's Green Earth do you face the life threatening prospect of a BLIZZARD in Hawaii? Magnum P.I. was on for eight seasons and I never saw so much as a snowflake.

That's Dumass #1.

For Dumass #2 lets follow the SUV I followed yesterday on my way home. I first notice this idiot trying to pass a car stopped at a Stop sign. On a two way street. Then the idiot gets into a left turn only lane, and continues straight through the intersection. The next time I run into this Dumass is a block or two later; sitting in a left turn only lane at a Green Light. The intersection has two lanes headed north- the way our Dumass wishes to turn- and one lane of traffic westbound turning north and one lane of traffic eastbound, headed north. Our Dumass sits through THE ENTIRE GREEN LIGHT- with multiple horns sounding- and then turns left as soon as the light changes to red.

Wait; it gets worse. Dumass #3 is right behind Dumass #2, and does THE EXACT SAME THING! they must have been related. I am the fourth car from the light and sat through 3 cycles before I could turn. I am still half deafened by the horn of the truck behind me. You have heard the phrase 'leaned on the horn'? This guy was Standing on the horn. and being a truck the horn wasn't below my bumper, but right in my rear window.

Not the most relaxing way to start a Friday night.

Now lets move on to what I did with my lunchtime. I renewed my car tags. That was actually a fairly pleasant experience, for dealing with a government entity anyway. The line moved quickly, the clerk I dealt with was very competent and friendly and I was in and out in in about 10 minutes; on the last day of the month. In prior years that would have been a 30-40 minute exercise.

Ah; but there is a Dumass # 4 lurking in the lunchtime adventures; I just don't know who it is.

First, something I did not know until today, is that Driver's Licenses are handled by the same department of Kentucky State government as the the court cases are. In each Kentucky County there is a Fiscal Court Clerk and Clerk of Courts. I had always ASSUMED that the Court Clerk I saw for a driver's license was the same Clerk who handled the land records. But its not; its the same clerk you would see to file a court action. So when the County built its latest (UGLY) Taj Mahal, the driver's license department joined the Clerk of Courts in the new Court building.

Which means there is only one entrance to the building- as far from the parking lot as you can get- AND you must go through full COURT SECURITY to get in. TO RENEW A DRIVER'S LICENSE!!!!!!! Whoever designed this system is Dumass # 4.

Then I get downstairs to where the actual folks are who print your new license. Where there is a line. I am behind a woman, her mother and her 3 year old son. While Mom has to renew her license and change her address, is Grandma watching the kid? Nope; apparently the pattern of the ceiling tile has her fascinated. Kid is running around like the Tasmanian Devil, until he finds the water fountain. The he becomes as enamored in watching water flow as Grandma is in the ceiling tile. Mom turns around, sees Grandma starring transfixed at the ceiling and does not see son anywhere and flips out.

Mom hollers: Where is Dexter? Mom is able to reply immediately: Hell; I don't know. So why did Grandma visit the License Bureau if not to keep an eye on Dexter? Apparently her license needs renewal as well. And has since July.

I'm not sure how the situation turned out. Window 2 suddenly opened up and I had my own drama to become absorbed in. Well apparently if you have a debit/credit card the license folks can only use it as a debit card. Fine; I'll do the debit.  Oh; there is a $2 charge to use a debit card. No cash; fine I'll pay the $2. Oh; by the way, renewals have gone up to $20. Fine; I'll pay the $22. Just take my gawdam picture and let me get out of this Hell for another 4 years.

Please enter your PIN Number. My What? PIN Number? I have never used this card as a debit card; I don't know what the PIN Number is.

Well then; they can't accept the card. 20 minutes of my life (and my lunch hour) down the tubes. And no renewed license.

So on Saturday I will need to visit the other Driver's License Bureau, where it will be packed, because it is the first of the month, and waste half of my Saturday morning doing something that should have been able to do on Friday. And I will have to stop and get cash; I'm not going through that debit card business again.

Or wait until Monday and leave work, go through security and wait in line behind yet another set of Dumasses - which for some reason appear to be attracted to government service windows, at least when I am in line- to make sure I can legally drive myself around for the next few years.

Maybe there something to be said for a streetcar. Except then I would be dealing with government employees daily instead of just every four years.

Allow me a few minutes to re-think this....