Tilt!...........

Recently, I was sitting at this joint that had 78 TV's, or so it seemed.  Coulda even been more, I dunno.  Like people watching - ya gravitate to whatever pleases you, find interesting, makes ya laugh, you enjoy.  Sports was the main fare- and my head, attention, skipped past hockey, basketball, baseball, Sports Center, you name it, they had it.

I found my attention focused on some National Doggy Obstacle course thing, where, led by trainer/treats, hounds of differing breeds ran, and jumped over hurdles, through long tunnel hoops, up/down bridges, see saws, pinwheeled right left thru 15 upright stakes.... 

It was a very refreshing respite from under further review... our team stinks... WHY did he leave that guy in to pitch?..   we RUN on 3rd down and 8?  It (the doggies running the obstacles) was fun, they're amazing athletes, and, cute as all get out to boot.

I've tried, here, this blog......... long time I've tried.... to promote kindness... golden rule stuff... "get knocked down?  Get up, chillax, be cool."  Think before we blurt/hurt... yada..  That said, some folks just ain't a lotta fun to be around, forgive me Father. I think we all, inside the tent of our person. THINK rotten stuff about certain others occasionally.  Keeping it within is another thing.

 The heck does that have to do with dogs Victor?  I'm glad you asked.  TILT.  Ya ever meet up with a doggy for the first time.....they look at you... and then they give you this TILT?  Uh huh, they're 'measuring our person'...  it's said to be leery of folks that dogs are leery of - so, it drives me nutty when I can't (right away) get a hound pooch to walk up, rollover, lemme scratch the belly...become good, fast friends up to and including the point of backscratch, play that funky banjo (with your back feet) Fido.

The TILT.

I vote - we, in life, can carry on our goal of harmony, peace, goodwill to mankind, with just one out.  In our back pocket - we carry the right to TILT.  That is, when we see someone we'd like to run away from as fast as we can.....  someone who's REALLY LOUD (bugs the crap outta me)... someone who talks about another someone... are ZERO fun to be around... we carry that right in our back pocket - to look 'em in the eyes, and TILT, without actually saying Jane/John, "you ignorant slut", without blurting how we really feel... simply a universal (you are not a nice, kind, pleasing, harmonious, fun, loving, genuine) person, TILT. 

A simple, TILT.

Beats the heck outta gnawing on their shin.

Exposing one's fangs to let em know how you really feel.

A simple, TILT. 

Victor, this was stupid. Boring. Really, not very nice.

To all that I say................

TILT.

 Good day. 

Whatever......

(All of the below, stolen.  Please don't tell.) 

Australia is wider than the moon.

Switzerland prohibits the ownership of just one guinea pig.

The Eiffel Tower was supposed to be in Barcelona. Eiffel's design was rejected by the Spanish city for being too ugly, he pitched it to France. The locals weren't in love with it either but tourists from around the world flock to Paris to see it.

Snow occasionally falls in the Sahara Desert.

Tigers have striped skin (in addition to striped fur.)

 A shrimp's heart is in it's head.

Sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins. (I wanna call BS, but moreso, I wanna know who tested, found that out, and even moreso, WHY?)

Bees may fly up to 60 miles in one day..

Hippopotamuses can't swim.  (Again, tempted to call BS, but, the site was done by school teachers.)

A chicken once lived more than a year without a head.  I think I seen him in the rotisserie display at Sam's Club.

Animals can be allergic to humans. HA!

Most ginger cats are male.

Giraffes are much more likely to get his by lightning than humans. Even basketball players?

Bees can get drunk on fermented tree sap.  (They can still fly 60 miles in a day but it's more a NE-NW-NE-NW pattern.)

Dolphins give each other names.  OK teach, go ahead and call my parents, I'M CALLING BS!

There's an ant species that's unique to New York. (Called a Manhattants.) You wanna impress me, try saying Unique New York, three times, REAL FAST.

You didn't try. TRY IT DAMNIT.

A group of pugs is called a grumble.  Damn dolphins prolly named em that.

Wombats make cube-shape poop. Ouch.

Salad and croutons anyone?

The immortal jellyfish can reverse its life cycle and start over again.  WHY AREN'T SCIENTISTS STUDYING THIS? 

Nutmeg is a hallucinogen. Oh crap, here come the Tide pod folks.

Before we had toilet paper Americans used corn husks.  Ouch.

The Spanish national anthem has no words.  If they didn't have that Running Of The Bulls thing I'd say Spaniards are a boring lot. 

The shortest war in history lasted only 38 minutes.

I can't remember if that was my first or second marriage.

GIT UR LAZY BUTT UP AND AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER AND DO SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE!

(Wasn't me, one of the dolphins said it. Pretty sure they called him Flipper.)

Beehave,

Love, Victurd 

 

 

Perspective.................. and.............. "At the end of the day."

Football.  Eww.  Gimme a break, and I don't mean a chunk of the dayum Kit Kat Bar... I mean, you ALWAYS talk sports and I've had my fill of it!

Football.  At the end of the day, I love sports.  Sorry kinda, not really.  I would say, I'm not quite as all-consumed today as I was however long ago... but I still very much enjoy.

"My football team", ie, the one I root for, won.  With the exception of last year, they've had a pretty nice run. If you read the Sport's page, sure, there will be naysayers.  If you peek at what folks say after, it ranges from "a win is a win' to "Run, look out, the sky is falling."

At the end of the day, we won.  Had we not, sure, disappointment woulda set in, but then, I took the average pay of an NFL rookie ($885,000) and divided it by 17 games... thus, had the day ended otherwise, I can see 'em taking their helmet, pads, etc off, flying home, arriving late... at the end of the day, placing their head on the pillow...  "Now I lay me down to sleep....I wonder how much, today I make?"  One-seventeenth is $52,058.82.  Hard to feel badly for them... right, schoolteachers, preachers, part-time golf course clubhouse attendants?

Money ain't everything.

Much is measured at the end of the day.  Did good happen?  Did you help to make it happen?  Did  you make someone feel good/better about themselves? Are you really rough on yourself and it's hard to find happiness at the end of the day?

Victor?  Yeah?  You change your last name to Olsteen?  Funny haha..

What's really important at the end of the day?

Well, two quick examples.

I awakened to a text this morning from a friend (sent at 8:22 pm) asking me if I've heard from a mutual friend.  It's obvious as I age, my end of the day is earlier and earlier and earlier...  I hadn't.  So, I'll contact friend today and apologize for going to bed early.

Next, the early morning Wordle battle with youngest niece... a few months back we'd had a nice lunch with cousins, second-cousins, and one had contacted her with "Let's do it again" and my niece included "She mighta texted you too, I dunno."  I looked.  She hadn't. So, I texted my niece back 'She likes you best.. I'm never talking to either of you, ever again." Takes care of that.

In all seriousness... Can you imagine, the "At the end of the day" people in our city, county, state, land, family, extended family, work family, church family, in the World - the trials and tribulations that accompany their "At the end of the day" feel?  Illness.  Loss.  Abuse. Addiction.  Food insecurity. Unemployment.  Divorce/Separation with the possible scenario of a non-working spouse allofasudden 'inheriting' a $1600 a month rent payment, expectations to fill the fridge to feed three mouths, buy them clothes, shoes, take the sick dog to the vet.  How could you sleep with all that going through your brain?

We know, ya just never know the at the end of the day of others.

Trust me, I've done my share of "Blurt hurt" in the past and I'm certainly not proud of that.  I guess we could all lighten the load on life......... make that head hitting the pillow a little more comfy - if we're simply kind.  Sadly, so, so many don't even have a pillow, bed, housing for that. Help others when we can.  Think, 5 seconds before replying - especially if it's something that's taken you back, or by surprise.

At the end of the day.......it's storming somewhere.  It's incredibly cold/hot somewhere else.  incredible pain within.  Worry about loved ones perhaps off the path.  More bills than bucks.  Perfection just simply doesn't happen.

Harmony can be tough to achieve.  

At the end of the day.. it shouldn't be though, should it? 

Shortly after the Civil War... you know... when Keith was born........

As Tears Go By............

The year was 1964.... Mick and Keith, each, were all of 21 years old.  They were busy puffing their chests out through their frilly, slick, sleek mostly unbuttoned shirts - thanks to the popularity of I (Can't Get No) Satisfaction - and, Hey, Hey, You You, Get Off Of My Cloud. 

All the while, their manager had one eyeball on them, one on The Beatles, and no, it wasn't Marty Feldman. Mick admittted at the time, "we don't really know what direction we're moving in... I don't think anyone knows."

Manager feller, Andrew Loog Oldham had plans.  (Time out.  Can't you just hear Andrew's parents, he, eight months in the belly of his ma, dad (or mom) asking, "What do you think about for a middle name?"  "Oh, I dunno... I kinda like "Loog".. you?" Done with that)

Back to Loog, one eye on Stones - anudder on the Beatles Lennon/McCartney.  "They're one up on you... you've GOT to become songwriters TOO."  Keith's reaction was "Who do you think I am?  John Lennon?  I've been playing the guitar since the turn of the Century." (< AI did that). 

Not so fast.  Loog went so far as locking the twosome in the kitchen of their Willesden flat, only to be released once they had written a song.  There's more.  "It can't be the blues, or a copy of an old favorite, I want something entirely new."

Jualah. -> the damn computer redlined that.  I don't know words (witness no Wordle today, I friggin gave up after two guesses).. I mean like "presto"... or, pronounced Wall-ah. 
"As Tears Go By" was written.  'HELP, LEMME OUT" said Keith.  He didn't, but, I bet he thought it.

The song had sweeping sentimentality, lush instrumentation (don't compliment my writing, I stole that crap off the internet)  Both Mick and Keith thought the song was tripe... Loog had met Marianne Faithful, all of 17 at the time - and a lightbulb went off, "mebbe she could sing it."  Marianne, as all 17 year olds do, said what was on her mind, "The Stones are crass and boorish."

Time changes things.  She said "OK, I'll sing it."  Wildly popular in the UK, and in spite of her earlier "crass and boorish" comments, by 1966 her and Sir Mick were smooching buddies.

Back to the purpose of this blog.  YOUR BLOGS HAVE A PURPOSE?  Uh huh, on purpose.

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by

My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch
As tears go by

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin' things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch
As tears go by  

Of course the Stones recorded it too...  Mick would later say "It's a very melancholy song for a 21 year old to write. "The evening of the day, watching children play - it's very dumb and naive, but it's got a very sad sort of thing about it, almost like an older person might write.  You know, it's a metaphor for being old.  You're watching children playing and realizing you're not a child.  It's a relative mature song considering the rest of the output at the time."

We've all got different tastes - but I enjoy the heck out of Mick, Keith, The Rolling Stones.  Band camp, a friend of mine used to write music reviews for the Kansas City Star...Years and years he interviewed all of em.  So I asked him one time... "Everyone asks 'Who are the jerks in the industry.. can you name a couple of the really nice ones?" Quickly out of his mouth, "David Bowie and Mick Jagger."  Turns out Mick was like "Yes sir" and "No sir" the entire interview.

That, and I'm Kansas City biased.  Whilst here one year to play, Mick brought the entire band to tour the Negro Leagues Museum.

Interesting now that it IS the evening of the day for Mick.

I ain't no preacher and I've said time and time again, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome.  I'd like to think Mick would now say "it's not a dumb and naive song"... it's very thoughtful.  And, it's NOT sad.  It's a wonderful thing to watch children do as we used to do.

As (Happy) Tears Go By.......

Right Loog?

Love, Victurd
 

Whadda you wanna 'be' when you grow oldER?

Seems all our life (thus far) we've had 'structions'.  For awhile, they're mostly born into us... turn over on the blanket... crawl... stand, HOLD ON!... we go from booby to "Oh Boy! STRAINED PEACHES!"....

Words?  There's words for all this crap?  Then, us, our fam, Missouri born, bred - it was our best intent to get ridda the cloth diapers by aiming, bombs away at the Jayhawk sticker Dad put in the urinal.  And, ya got training wheels... 

12 years of do this don't do that can't you read the sign?  No chance for "we are poor little lambs who have lost our way, bah, bah, bah." Hall monitors, junior high PE coaches who check our name off as we exit the shower, EWW.  Local newspapers publish this thing called the Honor Roll...... "Victor?  Where's your name?"  (I was dyslexic, lefthanded, mostly loved recess, PE and shhhhh, girls.)

Nowadays... kids can watch the (now old) movie On Golden Pond to learn how to suckface.  That, kegs and "oh yeah, I gotta pic a major" kinda control college.  A suit. Haircut. WHAT?  I gotta pay my own rent?  Buy my own car? Gas?  No wonder they left the want ads on the coffee table.

Then, ya get married, have advice from family, clergy, counselors, good buddies and mostly, own 49% of the stock.  This goes on for ten, twenty, thirty years - lightbulb, RETIREMENT COUNT DOWN IS ON.

So............ that whole path to "70-something, now what" is lined by folks like Helen Crump, Mr. Cottier... Mr Feeny... Edna Krabappel... Deans, Professors, Linkedin, Indeed, Bosses, General Managers, and someone mentioned financial planners but I offered 'what for?"  I know, it's me.

NOW.

Now we're 70-something.  Whereinthehell did the yellow brick road go?  Lions and tigers and bear, OH MY!.......... NOW WHAT?

Oh there's a brief respite in there right before Social Security.. I'd get 5 letters a day, Medicare reps literally would come put postie notes on my door...  HOW DO SO MANY KNOW I MIGHT NEED HEARING AIDS OR A BURIAL PLOT?  And sure.. EVEN A TERM POLICY.

Now, back to 70.  I guess we're stuck on Band-Aids to cover when we barely scrape our whatever wherever to cover up the purple blotch... and... Google, AI... Dewey Decimal System.

I'm reading it's  important what we eat. How, when we move. Frequent visits to Nurse Ratched or similar... a calendar (or SMTWTFS pillbox at a minimum.)  Google says work friendships will still exist be less and less frequent. HA, I'll never forget Ken... ahm, Kend.. Kender?  Masty?

In all seriousness. I'm not one to ask.  My idea of exercise is "I wanna change the channel but I left the remote over by the easy chair. Next time I gotta pee I'll change it."  And, more seriously, 'It's just easier if I stay home" - and we all know that ain't a good thing - so, wherethehell is Mr. Miagi when you need him?

Bless you if you're reading this and you're a twosome.  Always wonderful to have someone to lean on.  The rest of us... we just gotta keep an arm out, use it to ensure 3-point travel in the home or wherever.

I like my age, I do. Realization sets in.  Slow ain't necessarily a bad thing.  I find I listen more than I speak. (Sorry about being so verbal here, but too, you clicked the damn link!)..

Just my take - being in, around youth, rubs off, or can.  

I have no fun puns or ends.  That, I guess, likens life.  Lots don't change. I still don't like KU.  We were, and are, 1985 World Series Champions no matter what some say.  Ketchup is the bomb on hot dogs. Just say no gets hella easier.  We paint our own time, and don't fret so much if we're outside the lines. I will have Chili Cheese Fritos, lasagna, spaghetti and fried chicken every week of my remaining life.

And, there's always room for a couple of beers. Make sure your barn door ain't down, and, that you have your teeth in. Repeat after me, "It's Saturday."

Cheers, Victurd 

You don't bring me flowers..................... since it's Winter

Life, is funny.  To me anyways. Up.  Down.   uʍop ǝpısd∩.

Below, is not gonna make any sense.  You're welcome. That's, I think, almost 20 years running of more of the same.

Life is the Dave Clark Five:   And I'm feeling, glad allover..........   as well as...  I'm in pieces, bits and pieces.

Article this morning about the KC Chief's 3rd string QB... how he worked his way up from HS, to College, to tryout, to making the team... Writer used the word 'scaffold' as a verb.  'Scaffolded' his career.  

When I think of scaffold, it's the metal riser kind... a reasonably inexpensive way to work your way up to new heights....  Glad allover...   Some construction companies say 'bosh', gimme a hydraulic lift... Ain't got time for all that...  Still nuther construction companies might say, bullbosh, I can't afford that, which, is fancy for "can, but, afraid of heights" or, "hydraulic fluid leaks, strong winds, yielding, 'hard-fried' falling construction workers.  I'm in pieces, (eggshell) bits and pieces.

A mom and pop construction company would be prudent to own, use, scaffolding.  Then, if perhaps argue, 'can't stand your folks', infidelity, whatever happens...   I'm in pieces bits and pieces...  and I'm taking EVERY crossboard to our scaffolding.  'Screw you, that actually makes me....... glad allover.. I'm taking the metal framework."  Neither is going to climb to great heights any time soon. Beats getting hydraulic fluid allover the kitchen I guess.

Speakinowhich, I just got my car inspected.  ("SPEAKINOWHICH?  WTH?").. toldya way up there above "not gonna make any sense."

The mechanic shop dude said "We're gonna pass it"...  Glad allover, yes I'm glad allover.. "But first, you're gonna need two new tires."  I'm in pieces bits and pieces.  

So, two near tires purchased, put on. (mounting, balancing, disposal fee, tire pressure monitoring systems, road hazard, stem and hardware fee, sales tax, shop fees, and a Goodyear in a Pear tree.)  Glad allover and bits in pieces all in one.

Speakinowhich...... I've never understood 'the donut tire.' You're out in the middle of Kansas (Heaven forbid), flat tire happens.. "Here, put this on, but, don't go over 45 mph, don't drive any further than granny's house (next town over)."  I'm in pieces bits and pieces.  So, I thought to myself, if I EVER save enough money to gets me onea them brandspankin new F-One-Fitties they brag about.... I'm sayin' "Nope, huh uh, no donut for me, gimme another full sized rim and tire or I ain't buyin'. (To be continued).

Continued.  Victor?  Have you been outside since Johnny Carson went off the air?  Funny ha ha.  Come to find out, yes, 30-40% of new cars still have the donuts... 9% actually come with a full sized tire.. but... 30 to 40 % come with no spare tire at all. Not even one to get you to grannies?  Nope, not even that.  I'm in pieces.  

Stairway to Heaven.  Highway to Hell.  Hello/Goodbye.  In Through The Out Door.  Feelin' Alright/Catscratch Fever.  Jesus is just alright/Sympathy for the devil..  Take it easy.. take it to the limit...

Being a Libra - some might look at that as a curse....... Imbalance (probably... OK, YES, mebbe!).. I look at it as hopefully a more even keel.  Good. Bad. Happens. Buckleup buttercup.

I get knocked down...................  so............. I guess I'll take a nap. If I should die before I wake - you know the rest.

Tire'ed.  Hungry. (Have a donut). If ya should hear 'ugly', remember, another friend in your corner a hollerin' "good person."

It all works out in the Tide Pods.  Or, Dollar Tree soap if you're like me.

Love, Victurd 

Daddy sang bass..........

Momma was'a kissin' Santa Claus....  Junior was busy sellin' cars....... dial him up, BR-549..... Poor Jenny was hounded and hounded, and finally had to block the idiot's number, 867-5309.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer....  the unmistakable cloven hoof marks on Grandma's hands....  Grandpa (and his best friend) was'a havin' their faculties tested - as nightly they'd sing, ask, "Where oh where are you tonight...."

Cousin Mick worked 7 days a week at the KC Assembly Plant, and, as he'd drive his F150 there he'd sing, "another Pleasant Valley Sunday."...   

Second cousin Victor Willis sucked in his financial affairs, finally got evicted.. with no 'first month, last month' to live elsewhere - he put everything in his backpack and moved into the YMCA.   Still, outwardly happy, at the annual family reunion, he told all his disbelieving relatives "It's fun to stay at the Y M C A"... his brother Arnold just shook his head and said "What'chu talkin' about Willis?"

Kenny, and a host of others in the shelter house were havin' fun at the back corner pick-a-nic table playing some penny ante poker.. knowin' it was time to walk away Kenny got up and did just that. "Oh come on, Kenny.. the fun was just'a startin'... come on back, we'll talk some Politics.."  Into a dead sprint, Kenny knew when to run.

"Well... then come back and we'll talk Royals"...... about this time Aunt Petula grabbed her acoustic guitar.. "When you're alone and life is making you lonely you can always go, Downtown."

"Well Kenny, howabout them Chiefs?"...  Aunt Carrie, in town from Denver, took Petula's guitar and started singing "Before He Cheats"...  Poor Uncle Rodney, donned in his vintage Chief's sweatshirt mumbled something about not getting any respect.

The snotnoses, undoubtedly fueled by a heapin' helpin' of chocolate chip cookies - ran, in, out, around and over the pick-a-nick tables - got so loud one'a the adults, forget who, hollered "QUIT ACTING YOUR AGE!".... One by one they immediately calmed down, went, sat by their folks - ne'er a problem the rest of the day. Braniff, believe it.

The Bonanza of food Uncle Hop Sing had prepared was reduced to empty tupperware thingys, except for seven deviled eggs in one, but the flies had gotten the better part of them. 

Everyone was pretty tired.  It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty delta day.  The McAlister family still had to drive over the river and through the woods to the other grandparent's house.  Dad, Billie Joe, stood up, said "Come on, I'll drive."