I've never eaten guacamole........

Before... I say, I say, Before.. you say WTH?  You have GOT to be kidding.  Are you crazy?

I'll give you the Phil Collins answer......

Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, Drag my name all over the place, I don't care anymore.

Holy guacamole Victor, it'd be interesting to peek at the dayum GPS destination of your brain on this blog.

I ain't real sure yet.  One of the first things I read this morning was the story of Alysa Liu, a 20 year old cutie patootey that just became the first American in 24 years to win the Gold Medal in Figure Skating in the Olympics.

Victor, granted, that is special, but, there has been a long, long line of "cutie patootey US Figure Skaters".  And, 'cutie patootey' sounds kinda misogynist don'tya think?

Holy guacamole, I guess I get it... in the day and age of 'those files', the Me Too movement, that, I get it. BUT... can one say 'cutie patootey', meaning, from my stinky feet, fulla spunk, a livewire, incredible, welcoming smile,  complimentary without it being labeled a misogynist?  And, I think your question, in spite of the 24 year gap since out last Gold Medal winner - should be, "What makes her so special, in a long, long line of special skaters?

Well, she was retired the three years previously. VICTOR, she's 20?

Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, Drag my name all over the place, I don't care anymore.

Alysa first 'went to work' (laced up them ice skates) as a five year old. At age 9, she took 7th place in the Central Pacific Regionals.  Age 10, she became the youngest skater ever to win an International competition, winning the US Championship.

She went, here, there, everywhere (CA, Bangkok, NY, Poland, Estonia, Vegas, Toronto, Detroit, Greensboro, Bejing, Norwood, MA, Germany, Vancouver, and hunnerds of rinks around the world) and won, dang near everywhere.

At the ripe old age of 17, she announced her retirement from the sport.  ARE. YOU. CRAZY?  Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, Drag my name all over the place, I don't care anymore.

For 12 years, her life was, get up, go skate, come home, go to bed, get up, do again. (With, uh huh, education thrown in.)  "Feel I lived up to my end of the bargain.  Many times, it wasn't enjoyable."

Three years, later, she, being a normal kid again, went skiing with other normal kids.  The adrenaline rush was strong, similar to skating. "Wait, let me get on the ice, see what it feels like."  Holy guacamole, it musta felt good. This time though (TBC)

Skating would fit into her life, not the other way around.  Her own music. choreography, structure. Stop chasing approval, start chasing connection.

You know, you know, you know my name. NO DAMNIT, that ain't.  I needta change the name of this damn blog to "Lyrics keep sneaking in."  You know the rest of the cutie patootey story.

Obits.  NO!  Not cutey patootey!  I find obits, strangely, thereapuetic.  A lady who'd had a blessed life.  Travel the world.  Working in schools helping children. Great marriage, kids, then, MS set in.  Mice and men.  Undaunted, she continued to love and live... they listed TV shows and magazines she enjoyed in her final years.

I enjoy amazing human stories, and sounds as if she was an amazing human.  I will admit, I reach frustration with a baby affliction but man oh man, when i read some'a the things people must live with, I feel like I should be a "whackamole" as in, SHUT UP VICTOR, your life is blessed, and.  IT IS!

The next person (obits)... Horrific auto accident 21 years into her life (51 years ago), left her paralyzed and wheelchair bound.. yet, it was inscribed her life was defined by unyielding resilience, positivity and faith. She finished her degree, even got a Masters in Social Work.......... and, a lifetime spent as an advocate for disability rights.  In fact, thanks to an article about her was the impetus for a nursing home reform bill that allowed other Kansans with disabilities to live independently and manage their own care.

The cutie patootey, the beautiful ladies with MS and paralysis, I care about.

Guacamole, not so much.

Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, Drag my name all over the place, I don't care anymore.

Love, Victurd

Advice........

OH VICTOR, PLEASE NO?!!!

I ain't givin' no advice.... One more day perusing, juggling the 3 "Dear So-And-So" advisors our local rag employs here in KC:  Annie... Abby... and Carolyn...

Witchi Tai Tai, kimarah, Whoa Ron-nee Ka
Whoa Ron-nee Ka, Hey-ney, hey-ney, no-wah
Witchi Tai Tai, kimarah, Whoa Ron-nee Ka
Whoa Ron-nee Ka, Hey-ney, hey-ney, no-wah

What a spirit Spring is bringing round my head, 

makes me feel glad that I'm not dead.

Sorry.... all that ain't got nuthin to do with this blog... it was just rattling around my brain, so, wrote it... sang it (you're welcome that I ain't got sound).. and it was about Spring.  I hate Winter, love Spring.......... so that.

Dear Annie..  This (letter to Annie) first one was really depressing.  A gal friend of a guy who's married with a child.. guy has historical pattern of addictions.. meth, heroin, alcohol... she's had to break into his house a couple times when he overdosed (3 yr old home, uncaring wife was at work).. Wanted to call Child Protective Services, never did...  then, he later 'came on to her', she feared rape... "What do I do?" (DUH!)

I think any of us could be Annie on that one. "Get a protective order...CPS exists to assess and protect children when parents cannot or will not.  Making that call isn't betrayal... then, step away."

Dear Abby.  On second thought, the letter to Abby (too) was depressing (boring too, not newsworthy) and by gollly we have CNN, FOX, Facebook, X, Instagripe, all that crap - we don't need no stinking badges... oops... no, it's "We don't need no (more) stinking depressing crap.

Dear Carolyn.  First.. Victor's opine on the three advice folks, sorry, kinda, not really.  Annie seems to be the youngest, newest to the game, and that's cool.  Abby, she's been around since tintype ain't she? Wise, 'seen, heard everything', ie, predictive.

Carolyn, I ain't well versed nor am I a paid consultant to judge, but, to me, "she's with it."  New age, smart, clever writer, pins answers down, maybe tosses in a splash of guilt..

Anyways.... a mom of two thirty-something daughters wrote Carolyn, "At wits end" about them. 'Both capable, great jobs, many wonderful qualities, mildly depressed, personal lives a mess.. one in an on again off again relationship with a man who won't commit... the other, in a many year relationship with a wonderful man but SHE won't commit.

'Pained' (that's how the letter writer penned her name.) My two sisters have adult children with their own families and children whom they spend their holidays with and it pains me to see my own daughters stuck... and still, no grandchildren (I bolded that, newspaper didn't) or progress.   Then basically stole from the Beatles, Help, I need somebody. (Advice)

Editor's note... wouldn't it be fun to have, like a Southpark adviser added to the fray?  You know, like "Look here b*tch, DON'T meddle and git ur own life." or something like that.

Carolyn told pained, "Howabout this... They are okay. Wherever they are, is okay.

She then briefly addressed the perceived depression, "I don't have access to them, but, there's no clock, no race, no Major Award for Approximation of Happiness Through Life Milestone Acheivement anywhere I've seen.'

'But, I do have access to you, so I can ask, why are you so caught up in your daughter's adult children's business?"   You GO Carolyn!  Southpark 'em  "Look here b*tch, DON'T meddle and git ur own life." 

'Now, eyes on your own paper. Your two daughters are doing their thing and that's great. That they're capable and have good jobs and wonderful qualities is not stuff to breeze by.  Re: stuckness, Mom, it's not their job to give you grandchildren.  That expectation alone can eat away at their well-being.'

VICTOR?  Yain't gotta yell, I'm right here...  Are you gonna turn this blog into a continual advice column?

No.  Tomorrow I'm gonna be Joel Olsteen, preach, raise money to straighten out folks.

Monday, I'll host a Town Hall, invite all my Pub and Dem friends, see if we can get this ironed out.

Then, Tuesday, we're gonna lock Eric Cartman in a padded cell... see if we can get that little manipulative foul-mouthed kid the correct meds or therapy to stop being a narcissist and sociopathic child.

Or, I may write about something else stupid, throw in some 70's lyrics and call it an omelette blog.

Eggciting eh?

Love, Victurd

And........ winning the Bronze medal........ Nazgul from the Canary Islands!

 

Victor, I admit, your blogs are for the birds... but, really?  The Canary Islands?  And, they ain't got the Iditorod in the Olympics...  do they?  No, they don't.  I used the Canary Islands because they were named after dogs.  The bird thing is a misnomer, I didn't know until reading today... Canariae Insulae, meaning "Island of Dogs"..as in the original explorers found vast numbers of large, wild dogs on the Island of Gran Canaria.

Now, the pooch in the pic is Nazgul, actually from  Italy.  A lady was watching the hound for her brother... he actuallly lives pretty close to the Cross Country Ski course... Gal, Elisa, had gone somewhere... came home... Nagul had somehow opened TWO doors, escaped... and headed down the known path they usually walk... which, was to the course.  If you've had the TV on all, I'm certain you've seen....

Nazgul ended up ON the course... running just behind the first and second place runners., finishing in 'third place' to the delight of 26.5 MILLION TV viewers.. .. among them, 
dog watcher Elisa, "When we saw him on TV we were shocked!

I'm sure most of us have had a hound or two escape in our lifetimes..  Old people repeat stories, SORRY, ex and I usedta walk our Yorkie, Smokey Butterball.. on the path around the large cemetery in town.  As the daylight grew shorter - we found ourselves walking in the dark... Smokey loved the freedom of no leash.... so, we bought a battery operated RED flashing light and put it on his collar. Twas quite fun to see.Then, once, the little shit (said lovingly) took off.  We panicked, started running ourselves... Came upon a flock of snotnoses walking...  "HAVE YOU SEEN..... and before we could finish, they said "A LITTLE DOG RUNNING WITH A RED FLASHINGLIGHT?"  "YES!" They pointed us in right direction, Smokey apprehended not long after.

15 to 20 MINUTES.  The below link takes about 15 to 20 minutes to read.  It really isn't edge-of-your-seat reading, but, rather transcript of a podcast on the extreme ends a couple went to, to find their brand spanking new rescue dog who'd run off. Questions I asked, "really?  You gave it that all?"... "Had to have cost a lot?"... "Those people didn't know you, but let you use their house?"  Anyways, if you read, I hope you enjoy.  I did.

Your choice.  Sit.  Stay. Read.

Or, "Go."

Happy weekend

I am FAR, FAR from IT smart. I ain't sure, you might have to copy and paste.

https://www.outsideonline.com/podcast/the-craziest-lost-dog-story-ever/

Love, Victurd

Take my advice......... no one else does......

Shake. Shake. Shake shake shake...shake your booty.

No dangit, that ain't it.

I. Me. Proven very poorly academically...  Not quite to the point of strapping a pork chop on a necklace so the dog'll play with me... yet still, I demonstrate the chutzpah to announce, "Man it's a shake your head world, today."

Holy mackerel (which, huh uh, shake my head 'no', ain't got nuttin, at least my define, with religion.) I perfer to say 'holy mackerel' as an element of surprise, but then again, howintheheck can anything today surprise us?

Don't be surprised I had to lookup how to spell 'chutzpah', as well as look up the origin (and definition) of the saying 'Holy mackerel.')

You asked for it, you got it, Toyota.  And, athletic directors, colleges, lovers of "Dear ole State U", and, sport nerds like me.

Shake. Shake.  Shake shake shake, shake that change in your pocket.  It be about money honey, today.  Hey, nice job newly hired coach... 'we're gonna giveya a new house, car, contractual millions, bigger office, and oh yeah, if we later decide we goofed and we wanna get ridda ya, we'll give you $18+ million (K-State) to get outta here...or $20+ million (UCLA). Don't let the door hitya in your purse.

K-State will go thru a lengthy process, he said, she said, regarding if the coach is fired for cause (We ain't payin'!) or not (Gimme my money honey!) .  UCLA ain't fired their guy yet, but wow, an LA sportswriter wrote a scathing article about him.... ending "He's gotta go, he's left a pyramid of poop on (beloved coach) Wooden's legacy."

Shake shake shake, shake shake shake, shake your head, switch to advice columns instead.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I mean, well, OK.  Paraphrasing... letter to Dear Abby.. "Loved my MIL...she passed.  FIL later started dating lady NONE of us like.."unkind, dismissive... tension abound when she's around."  NOW, they're getting married, and, ON MY BIRTHDAY! Would it be selfish or inappropriate to ask them to consider a different date?"  (TBC)

I love me some Dear Abby. "I'm sorry for your disappointment, but the date of your birth doesn't belong solely to you."  You tell her Abby, I'll pat ma' foot!

And in another column Dear Annie advised.... VICTOR? Are you gonna do like twenty of these?  No. I ain't even gonna read the details of hers, only the advice she gave.  Good, ty.  Annie is a younger version of Abby.  Perty too.  VICTOR, did you have to add that?  I am human (male pig) hear me roar.  Her advice was.................

"Advice is only useful to people who want it. Everyone else wants an audience."

Today's blog is pretty useless.... I wouldn't even 'like' if I were you.  It just seems any more, there ain'tno ain'tno real thing such as Breaking News... or.. ."I've heard it all now"..  All, or most, is, shake, shake, shake.... shake your head, instead.

I miss Captain Kangaroo in the mornings........ I don't believe in Superstars, organic food or foreign cars..... but I believe in love.. I believe in babies.. I believe in mom and dad, and I believe in you.

Who knows what regurgitates today... maybe something like Prince Andrew arrested........Nah, then we will have seen everything.......

Turn on the music insteada the news........

Shake shake shake... shake shake shake...  shake your booty, it's a real cutey.  VICTOR! I am human (male pig) hear me roar.  

I wish peace, happiness, love and contentment for us all.  That usedta be easy.... 'stuff' has been getting in our way.  Grab life's ironing board, we gotta get the wrinkles out.

Love, Victurd

I wonder what Piggy Wiggly does with all the eggs cartons that have 11 unbroken eggs?

You do it, I seenya. I do it, every time.  We buy a six pack of Pepsi, we throw it in the cart. Same with a box of a dozen donuts.  A 12 pack of those little yummy cinnamon applesauce thingies.... Doest thou take the time to stop, hey what's that sound...  nope, oops, wrong lyrics... does thou take the time to open Sesame...  crap, that ain't it either. OPEN. INSPECT. BUY (or not.)  No, but...but... eggs?

At day's end, the Piggly will have at least eight cartons of eggs with only 11 good eggs.  The hell do they do with 'em?

Do they put em all in one basket, then sell em for like 20% off?  I always heard "Don't put your eggs all in one basket."  And I suppose that's twue, it's reawwy reawwy twue.

Life is hard.  Victor, are you saying buy powdered eggs instead?  Ahm, no, but nice swing... level it out, ya got a bit of an uppercut.

Diversify.

Risk mitigation.  Victor, don't do it, I'll fall asleep if you advise.  Eh, right you are.  I've had Port wine, but, I ain't had no Portfolio... but, the message, don't invest it all in one place, right Blockbuster fans? Elevator operators?  Yeah, what goes up must come down, but sometimes they get buttons and don't need ya on there anymores. 

What about Sony?  (Victor, you're prolly the only fool on the planet that remembers that commercial... and I must say, in spite of some tariffs, I think Sony is doing quite well.)

What about marriage?  (Ahm, Victor.  Don't swat me, but ain't you got the rule you [of all people] don't fork out advice on, relationships, quitting smoking, and.... investing?  Yeah, mebbe the yoke is on me, I have dropped a few baskets in my lifetime.)

That said, I see so many wonderful, happy couples.... marriages that thrive on exclusivity.  Then TURN LEFT Victor, here. NOW.  But, but, but.... I had my eyes done years ago... my left eye is for close up, it's hard for me to see cars comin' from thata direction.  Then Victor have mono surgery next time....... Nah, the light down there is red now, I can go, but tyvm.

Is there a purpose to this blog Mr. Olsteen...er, I mean Victurd?

Yeah, plan B.  Ya mean like having a gf waiting in the wings?  Yeah, I mean NO.  I mean like on investments....  if, mebbe in a dating situation, then yeah, don't just "Put me in coach, I'm ready to play... today... put me in coach... look at me, I can be Centerfield."  Ahm, no, in dating, play the field eh?  Why not, it's the one time it's ok to.

Back up plans.  You mean like them nifty back up cams they got in the brand spanking new F One Fitties?  Well, kinda I guess.  I did see a funny (VICTOR!)... ok, I did see where some guy was gonna complain to Ford because there was a glitch in his camera... it showed some guy walking behind getting run over.  NOT funny Victor.  Bite me, I kinda thought so.

, 

Niche, in work.  Ya gotta niche, that's all good.  But, we all need a back up plan in case the industry changes... and if ya watch, industries change. I saw an article on Indeed that listed 51 jobs that ain't no more. I started to peek but I had to do one'a those stupid 'prove you're human' things so I stopped.

Friends.  Wonderful column in KC Star today, a Dear Abby thingy..... Lady said her and mothers of other snotnoses got close, became friends when their kids were in Elementary school... it continued over the years... went on many very nice outings outside of their school stuff.... but, recently she finds herself not included with the group so much... she would see her buddies talking about things she wasn't included in.. "weekend hike"... "a brunch"... and sure, it worried her, she had no ID (that's the way we country folks, say idea, no ID) what to do, or why.

Abby's advice, solid I thought.  "You're not being needy.. your being a human with working eyes.  Friend groups rarely sit down and vote someone off the island. They do it the way you described: one brunch here, one concert there, a handful of "Oh, you would have loved it" and comments like that land like tiny paper cuts."  Yeah Victor, so what'd she say?

"Before you assume you did something wrong, consider the most common explanation, momentum. People fall into routines with whoever is loudest, closest, fastest to reply or easiest to coordinate with. That's not flattering, but it's often true.  Still, sure, "accidental" exclusion hurts the same."  Victor, I get it, but Abby ain't really advised her yet.  

"Pick one friend you trust... say, 'I've noticed I'm often hearing about plans afterward. If I've done something to cause that, I'd want to know.  And it it's just how things have shifted, I'm feeling a little left out."  Then, watch what happens next."  (Continued, wake up!)

"Real friends adjust.  Casual friends reassure you and keep right on brunching."  Victor, I get it, but the hell does this have to do with eggs in one basket at Piggly Wiggly?  Just that.

Abby continued "Don't put your social life in the hands of one group chat.  This is your sign to widen your circle: one new class, one new lunch or one invitation with someone who lights up when you suggest it. Friendship isn't supposed to feel like trying to get into an overbooked restaurant."

Thank Abby... but too... I go with my old standby for restaurants... "Party of two, last name Starving."  I give up Victor.

But Victor, just a song before I go........no, that ain't it.  Easter.  Easter is coming up.  You can't arm all the little snotnoses with more than one basket canya?

Blog reader, I too sometimes consider giving up.. but in this case, I suggest you call Piggly Wiggly aheada time, see if they'll donate all them cartons with 11 eggs, thataway, if someone does drop their basket, all their problems are solved, no yoke.

Have a hoppy day,

Love, Victurd

Puff the magic dragon, lived by the Landing

Happy first day of the Lunar Calendar.  I have ZERO prior knowledge of, what's it all about, Alfie?  I started to do a blog to 'Xplain Lucy', but, I'm a simpleton, it'd take me a year to unnerstand it....

Let's keep it simple, like.. the solar (Gregorian) calendar tracks the Earth's orbit around the Sun.. (365 days) staying synced with seasons.. whilst lunar calendars track the Moon's 12 phases (354 days) shifting 11-12 days earlier annually.  Don't read this, see? I'm still confused.

What I think we all know, like Noah...  animals.  Side note, heard a funny (VICTOR!  YOU TELL IT, WE'LL decide if it's funny....  OK, agree withya).. Guy said "He was running so hard it was like he was the third monkey trying to get on the Arc."  I liked it anyways.  Where was I?  Animals Victor.

Oh yeah.  The animals of the Lunar calendar. Rat. Ox. Tiger. Rabbit. Dragon. Snake. Horse. Goat. Monkey. Rooster. Dog. Pig.

It'd actually be kinda cool if we could pick, or, if mom and dad could pick which one, then... they'd wrap ya in a cute little onesie of a Rabbit... or, a Horsey... Doggy, yada.

But. Turns out, they've been recording lunar cycles since the Paleolithic era with artifacts like the Ishango bone.. huh?  Yeah, me too.  (c 20,000 BC, ie, quite awhile ago apparently.)

I guess, according to legend Buddha, or some Jade Emperior, held a race...  12 animals. To like get on the Arc Victor?  No sir, to assign associated animals to the calendar year.  Apparently, the rat was the fastest, so he was the first.  Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, etc, etc, you can Google the rest.

I guess, everyone born within the 354 days of the lunar thingy, has the same animal designation. Do you know yours?  I didn't either.. so I Googled..  It's now 7:13 am Central, when I Googled to learn I was born in the year of the Dragon, that was a few hours ago and now I can't find the damn link to check.  You're on your own, sorry, but... let's have fun with it.  (Victor, YOU blog, we'll decide after if it was fun.)

Ohhhhhh, I see.  You could be a candidate for the Rat eh?  If you had your druthers, which would you pick?  Dragon, again, not my first choice.... and, don't tell, I even Googled "Were there ever dragons?" I'M A SIMPLETON, AND WHO KNOWS, IF IT'S BASED OFF ISHANGO BONES OF 20,000 YEARS AGO, WHO KNOWS MIGHTA BEEN, HELL THERE'S 33 TYPES OF DINOSAURS?"

No, no such thing as dragons.  Sorry Disney, pick another movie.

Howabout people we know?  Would it be fun to guess, label them?

Rat.  Wiki say 'resourceful, intelligent.'  Sorry if that's your birth year but I call bullsh*t.  Where, just where, are rats welcome?  Last time I saw one, I was sitting on a bench across from a restaurant in Liberty, little dude crawled out from the back door, went along the side of the buiding to the front door.  Musta been time for the buffet to start.  Message me, I'll tellya which restaurant. I hope you are ok, but I'd be mentally unstable to be a Rat all my life.  Some prolly think that anyways.

Victor, are you gonna spend this much time on each animal?  If so, I'll go paint the spare bedroom and watch the paint dry, or, wait for you to get to the Goat (sheep), take a nap and count em.  Bite me.

Let's do Goats them.  Wiki say calm, gentle, creative, sympathetic.  After some thought, it'd be pretty cool to be Year of the Goat. I mean, you ever watch 'em?  They are all about FUN.  Run here, have fun, jump there, more fun, then, EAT, EAT, EAT all day.  Not baahhh'd eh? That's a pretty good life nutshell.

Know any Roosters in your life?  Observant, hardworking, courageous, and confident. Again Wiki, I call BS.  Roosters text you at 5am. Loud. They molt, eww.. and what the hell is a cloacal kiss?  Doesn't sound like any Barry White song I ever heard. 

Would you wanna be born in the year of the animal deemed wise, intuitive and calm?  Congrats, you're now what Wiki calls Snake. That ain't what I think of when I thinka snake, you? I think of "RUN FORREST", antidotes and, 'where's the hoe?'

Ox. Diligent, dependable, strong willed and hardworking.  Them seem like mighty fine attributes to me, but, how'd you like a lifetime of introducing, "This here's my wife, Ox." Maybe ok for the zodiac calendar but don't seem cutout for no Girly Calendar.  VICTOR, you're a pig.

Victor Victor Bo Bictor Bonana Fanna Fo Fictor, let's do Pig.  Noble, considerate, fortune-seeking,  Like them attributes?  Would you marry a Pig?  Fortune-seeking?  Ain't there other terms for that?  It is said (one time, Band Camp, I usedta enjoy gambling) "Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered."

Victor?  How many more you gonna do?  Good idea blog reader, we'll do Rabbit next. Gentle, quiet, cautious and compassionate, which, you, that blog reader/writer ain't.  Good mate material?  You're no bunny till some bunny loves you?  Did you ever have to make up your mind, say yes to one and leave the other's behind...   (Bear in mind, ever seen a flat rabbit on the road?  Uh huh, me too.  Indecisive.

One more.  (THANK GOODNESS.) Bite me.  OK, we've got left.... Tiger, Horse, Monkey ad Dog.

Well... Tigers ARE cool, brave, strong.  Horses, I can't get the Budweiser commercial outta my head.. so strong, beautiful, cool...   Monkeys, nah, they throw poop. Let's do the Dog. Everyone loves the dog.

True. right away, tail wag, makes ya happy. They're always in a good mood.  Loyal. Sit. Stay. Come. Fetch. Protectors. BARK BARK BARK, GET THE HELL OUTTA MY YARD SQUIRREL!  

And we've all heard the story....... Lock your mate and your dog in the trunk... let 'em fester an hour.. open it up...  which one would be happy to see you?

Dog.  My first choice.  Yours?  Dragon. Not my first choice, but, I've been one for 73 years I guess.  What are you?

FYI, if you're having a baby in the next 353 days, it'll be a Horse.

Happy Lunar New Year.

Please know, you've been Mooned.

Love, Victurd

Happy George Birthington's Wash Day... or something like that....

Back in the dinosaur days, we snotnoses got to stay home (school was out) for BOTH Abe Lincoln's Birthday (Feb 12) and George Washington's (actually, it's Feb 22) but, in 1971 Congress said the kids needs more skoolin', we'll make it ONE day, call it President's Day and it'll be on the 3rd Monday in Feb.  Mikey doesn't like it, but, too bad kid, go get dressed for school.

Today, I am going to write a blog about Presidents and it's going to be the best blog ever.... read by more people than any blog has ever been read by.  No, no, no, I ain't pickin' sides, I'm including both.

DID YOU KNOW......the Coolidges damn near brought an Arc with them to DC?  Uh huh, included, five dogs, a cat, a bear, two lions, a bobcat, an antelope, a wallaby, a pygmy hippo, a raccoon named Rebecca, and a partridge in a pear tree. Kidding on the last part, but the other stuff, that's a fact Jack.

The Kennedy's tweren't far behind, zoo'ming to DC with dogs, horses, a rabbit, hamsters and cats. Caroline's pet Shetland pony, Macaroni, had free reign of the White House lawn.  My favorite though was Andrew Jackson's potty-mouthed parrot.

Lincoln logs were named after, uh huh, and the cabin where he was born.  Garfield was the first ever to pickup a telephone and say "Sarah, get me Alexander Graham Bell wouldya?"  Bell was 13 miles away.

There have been SIX President's with the first name James but I ain't gonna list 'em 'cause you'd forget just like me.  "De plane de plane" award (shortest President) goes to James Madison at 5'4" (he only weighed a hunnerd, and uh huh, he did whadever the Mrs asked him to do.)

Jefferson soaked his feet in a bucket of ice daily as he thought it would ward off a cold.  Woodrow Wilson painted golf balls black so he could still play golf in the snow. Garfield was the first lefty, Fillmore was the first to have a stepmom. Harrison was the only President who studied to become a Doctor and he called Jefferson an idiot because of the ice bucket. True, I seen it on his Instagram post, so, Minnesota ain't the first Ice controversy. In a response post on Twitter (it was still called that then) Jefferson reminded everyone Harrison was afraid to touch light switches.  True, was.

The very day Richard Nixon met his future bride Pat, he proposed to her, adding, "I am not a crook." LBJ proposed to Lady Bird with a $2.50 ring from Sears. RUN Lady Bird! Buchanan was the only President without a First Lady. Pat musta believed Richard.

Who do you think wrote an autobiography without mentioning his wife?  Shame on you Terry Hahn, no, it was Martin Van Buren.  Years before he was ever elected President, LBJ sold 'Muzak' to Ike when he was in office. Cheap basta, shoulda used the funds for a nicer ring. Bill Clinton's first job was selling comic books.  I don't write 'em, I just forward em to you.

Ulysses S. Grant was given a $20 speeding ticket for riding his horse and buggy too fast down a street in DC.

Carter believed in UFO's, Ford modeled for Cosmo.  Taft was the largest at 340 pounds, but huh uh, just a rumor he got stuck in a tub. True though, he took his 7' long tub that weighed a ton with him to Panama due to his affinity for baths. John Quincy Adams didn't need no tub, he got up early (4am) and went skinny dipping in the Potomac.

Harding lost the White House China in a poker game.  Garfield could write in Greek with one hand and Latin with the other.  (Liberty folks, was it Mr.Moore in HS that would start on the left side'a the chalkboard with left hand, get to middle, switch to right?)

His wife was a strict Presbyterian so ya never heard nor seen folks dancing to Polk Salad Annie while James Polk was in office. Dancing was frowned upon.  Chester Arthur, president numero 21, held a yard sale (included within Abe's pants, Adam's hat), then, used the funds for a White House redecorating project. Hmmm.

Ike no like acorns on the White House lawn (they messed up the golf game he practiced there.. ordered all the squirrels to be shot.  Secret Service no like guns on WH lawn, trapped em and moved 'em instead.

Coolidge invented 'Pay it forward'... well, maybe. He awoke one night, found a burglar rifling thru his belongings, calmly talked him down, learned the guy was desperate to pay his hotel bill and buy a ticket back to college... Coolidge gave him all $32 from his wallet and helped sneak him out past Secret Service.

Andrew Jackson kept a 1,400 lb block of cheese in the WH, Teddy's son rode his pony on the WH elevator... LBJ conducted meetings while on the toilet. (Toldya to run Lady Bird).

Ford, after a standout football career at Michigan, was 'woo'ed' (not drafted, but woo'ed!) by both the Lions and the Packers.  Ike played football at West Point and once tackled Jim Thorpe. Next play, Thorpe ran over Ike for a touchdown. Taft started the 'throwing out the first pitch' tradition from his seat at a Washington Senator's game, tossing the ball to the pitcher. Reagan spent summers as a lifeguard in Dixon, IL and reportedly saved 77 swimmers there in the late 20's. A plaque now commemorates his time there.

Victor, I'm getting bored.  

Me too.  I'll sign off (THANK YOU VICTOR) with George's suggestion the day he gave his farewell address....... deducting the main message from his 32 page handwritten address that day, he advised Americans "to avoid excessive political party spirit and geographical distinctions."   I'm still pissed the Chiefs are moving to Kansas, but, I'll leave the other part alone.

Hail to the Chief(s)

Love, Victurd