Same ole same ole......

Venture........

Venture out.......

Songs by The Ventures, which, really ain't got nuttin' to do with this blog, then again, mebbe so....  The Pink Panther Theme... how fun is that one to hear?  And, The House of The Rising Son.....  I know, i thought it was the Animals originally, but what the hey.. .a magnificent song nonetheless. 

People, people who need people (to follow their whims, ways, 'structions.. right Babs?).. 

Folks are concerned about my palate.  I admit to being old, cranky.  As in, hey hey you you get offa my cloud.  I'll eat what I want, when I want, 'taint much of your bees wax what goes in my belly.... 

I likes what I likes.  You don't like fish?  Huh uh, i don't.  HOW DO YOU KNOW IF YOU NEVER TRIED?  I admit to being old, cranky.  As in, hey hey you you get offa my cloud.  I'll eat what I want, when I want, 'taint much of your bees wax what goes in my belly.... 

I don't think I'd ever buy a new recliner.  Nor, one'a them on Facebook that brags "no cat scratches, this is a no pet, no smoking home."  Lived in, I likes lived in.  Gimme discoloration where your fat butt (ie, my fat butt) slides in that easy chair, smokes like a fiend, cats, dogs, turtles, hamsters, whadeva...  Same way with baseball gloves, Taylor Made Golf Clubs (I don't need no stinking Pings)... town..   FRIENDS.

 Sure sure, I enjoy meeting new folks, venturing to Weston for whiskey,  Mehico for something new, and old.. Vegas for the rush.. Florida for the sun... but... whiskey will never replace Miller Lite...  Vegas is a rush, but I cannot overcome the magnetics of the ATM.. and sand gets in my buttcrack, bare feet, car, hotel room, everywhere.  Nice to visit, gimme Same Ole.

Yesterday over a hunnerd old farts, of the Sigma Nu variety, gathered for our annual golf thingy.  Thank Heaven, for little girls.  No, that ain't it.  Well, I do love me some women.  But, thank Heaven, for simple dudes.  We were, are, always will be, simple dudes.  Fun, well done, or, sung to the Rocky tune "doo doo doo doo, take me back."

36 Moss, the best six years of my life.  Same ole.  Venture out Victor.  Screw that, I'm a simpleton, and dang proud of it.  That's sophmoric Victor.  Uh huh, and, that's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it.  Comfort.  My easy chair.  Worn on the edges.  Something about collars and cuffs never being neat.

We may gather and golf in Smithville, or, The Big E (wow they are pretty courses).. we may continue tradition of our buddy Vince reserving the back room at Cascones where we can holler too loud, return to being 20-something, laugh, cry... do 'it' (it being an age, stage in our lives and, the same ole replication last year, the year before, and again yesterday... it smells good like the Ditto Machine it is.  We don't need a hunnerd and twelve copies a second... crank that handle, bring out the laughs, the stories we've heard 97 times.. again.  Same ole same ole.  But Victor, even cod?

Even cod, patooey.  Continuing where I left off... gathering in Smithville, The Big E, Cascone's......... we always come back to Liberty to rejoice.  If you know me, that highly delights me.  I love me some Liberty.  VENTURE OUT VICTOR! HAVE YOU EVER LIVED OUTTA STATE?  Ahm no, but, have you ever ridden a geezer scooter to the oldest bar in town?  Uh huh, what i thought.  Ya might oughta try it sometime. It's fun, well done.  64068.  The sign at THE LIBERTY LANDING SHOPPING CENTER... may have electronic trouble............ light up as  BERTY         DING.  I like, scratch that, LOV,  BERTY       DING.

I don't needs to live in CA, TX, FL, CO, and don't never suggest KS.  I know 'don't never' is a double negative, but, so is Kansas, sorry, not really, tell 'em Norm!

 That about wraps is up.  I'm getting out my geezer scooter now.  Riding it to Ginger Sues, a nifty breakfast joint just off the square in Liberty.  To meet, same ole same ole 36 Moss buddies from many wrinkles ago.  That's the way, uh huh uh huy, I like it.

Victor?  Yeah?  What are you gonna eat? Jane, you ignorant blog reader, did you just get here.  Be it Hy Vee, IHop, Dennys, Perkins, Ginger Sues - it's 2 eggs, sausage PATTIES, toast (white or wheat, toast is toast), hash browns, surprise me on their crispiness.. .and water.  Water?  Uh huh. As in, hey hey you you get offa my cloud. 

You make no sense Victor.

Yeah yeah yeah, I make no cents either... but, I like me. And Liberty. And my 2002 Buick Century.  And my 36 Moss buddies, their spouses, gf's, kids, g-kids, yada.

If there are errors in this blog, srory, no spare time to peruse for erorrs.  Late for an important date.  Gotta allow time to push my geezer scooter up the hill the last little bit as I'm too fat to make it all the way. Same ole same ole. 

Love, Victurd 

When I grow up............

I plan to be thrifty.  Insteada like putting a gloss finish on my nails (I heard men do that for strength, so they won't crack, split, etc) I'm gonna (daily) devour Cheetos, Cheese balls and Chili Cheese Fritos.  Who needs clear when you can do orange - and, the best part.. two hours after you've put the bag away you can go back and suckup dessert from your pinkies, free.

 

Same thing with a beard.  WHY pay for shaving?  Breakfast, eggs, bacon bits, dribble dribble... drive/go to work.. first break, grab ma' comb, scoop the beard, seconds, YUM!

 

I intend to play video games wheneva I wanna, BUT, I ain't payin', buyin' no Xbox, NOPE.  I intend to be THE very fastest to look at 12 pictures on a screen, click, fast-as-I-can, all the ones that have a bus in the picture.  No ads! FREE!  FUN!  Get bored? Then I'll switch to bicycles, or crosswalks, sumpin.

 

Marksman.  THAT, I will be too, without having to buy expensive guns, ammo, camo, ain't gotta drive to country, knock-on-a-door and ask "Hey Mister, can we hunt on your ground?"  Nope, I'm gonna pretend my mouse, yes, my computer mouse, is a 20 gauge (12 gauge hurts, recoils too much) and all-night-long (right Lionel, you rich ole American Idol dude!)... I'm gonna BLAST pop-ups on my computer.  BAM BAM, BAM BAM BAM.  Shoot all the damn time I wanna and STILL be a good Democrat.

 

I have entrepreneurial ideas. One time, band camp, I made $36.75 in under two hours at Aldi's, standing outside by the carts, asking if someone had a quarter. Were you aware there are 2,684 Aldi's in the US?  Hell, there's a hunnerd and five in Missouri... and, vacay/snowbird?  315 in Florida!

 

Suburbs abound here. Each, having ten to twelve restaurant/bar kinda places.  All I need is a fat-man's lawn chair (learned the hard way, GOTTA be 250 lb test/capacity),  a bucket, and a friendly smile - sit out front of the restaurant/bar, from, say, 6p to 7p, holler '$5 cover charge'  (that's the goin' rate in Missouri, over there in uppityville (JoCo) you can ask for $10.  I gotta pad that Social Security somehow. 

 

My heroes, role models, Mr. Haney on Green Acres, hell, Oliver would buy anything from him, and, Elvis's Colonel Parker who often kept fitty percent of what Elvis made from his bookings.

 

It's the day and age of, reading an article, watching the news, virtually anything, only to learn later, nope, no morals, no couth, that ain't real, regurgitate, get up, do 'em all again tomorrow.  AI is a good thing, but then, it got in people's hands.

 

Just got my first 'paycheck' from being a pooper scooper, 20 bucks (a ten, a five and 5 ones).. "Hey kid... I'll giveya ten bucks if you fill this WallyWorld sack up with dog poop from that lady's yard.... and, an extra two bucks if you do it in under an hour."

 

Grease is the word.......... .the way.   Too bad, so sad, but, whatta ya gonna do....

 

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

 

Victor, you're nuts.  Yes, that had been established earlier. 

 

Love, Victurd 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Apple carts... and............. Don't do dat......

i talk to myself. excuse me.

Excuse me?  You mean like, while you kiss the sky?

Nope.

Excuse me, like, you farted?

Well, I did (very perceptive you are) butt that ain't it either.  EXCUSE ME that I type here, some would call it, ahm, TMI I think it is.  But, you, blog... are like 'my wife', I ain't gots nobody else to talk to.

Carry on wayward son............ I guess.

Thank you, I will, and, I woulda, even if you denied, grumped, groaned. Ha.

My day started with "I HATE WORDLE."  Happens, with frequency.

Then, why do  you play?

Because I LIKE WINNING. I don't, very often, but when I do, YIPPEEE!

Yesterday,,,,,,,,,,

All your troubles were so far away?

No.  Clear and present danger, I struck out on Wordle.  Gets worse, I am old, hear me roar.  I'm planning a golf tourney for folks from Liberty. Been going thru Facebook history, online, yada.. .to find, save photos, articles (hopefully interesting to all) about the History of our town to share.

To library.  Two and one-half hours, digging thru emails, Facebook, adorning with descriptions, stories, to transfer those photos to their printer.  Dime a copy. That I can afford.  Whew, finished.  Walked to printer.  Said 31 copies, yet I owed $6.80.  Eh whatever, was prolly multiple on some pages... anyways, 'tapped' to pay (still ain't used to that') printed..... zoom zoom zoom they came, blank side up... peeked at one or two... blank... peeked again, whew, had some print on it. All good.

Desire for nicotine led me to fetch em all up, go to car (versus stand, peruse all before I left.)  Get to car, light cig.  Turned docs over.  68 of em.  None, legible. All blurred, all with wet ink.  I laughed. (What else ya gonna do?)

Three, count 'em, THREE grandkids to go swimming where I work.  Not all that long ago the 15 minute ride would be accentuated by "OK, let's see who can find first, a motorcycle, a flag, a cow and a license plate from Iowa."  The second half of this year they will turn 10, 14 and 16. Bosh on the 'who can find' idea.  Six, count em, SIX eyeballs glued to Androids and IPhones, Fortnight, Kidz Bob and who knows what else.  So, I just smoked cigs and drove.

Once to pool, don't vote me for "Great grandparent award".  Nope. I ain't gettin' wet. I smoked cigs on the deck whilst they played, and mostly made sure youngest didn't drown.

Father's Day had been mentioned earlier, but we never really discussed it.  On that same ride home, I placed myself in their shoes, and in mine.  No father for them for Father's Day.  Way too young.  Apple carts tip over.   The only bitter one I tasted (prolly one'a them green ones) was my son and I driving to Topeka the last two years of his life, only to be turned away (time and again) from seeing them.  I consider myself resilient, but I'll never lose that bad taste.

The very bottom line to all of this...   Life is what it is.  We all witness varying forms of lives our friends grew up within.........  wonderful/distant/crappy/absent/The Best, etc.. family situations...  Somehow, decent human beings come out.

With love can and usually does come hurt.  By and by, life is pretty dayum grand.  Even when Wordle sucks, printers suck, kids that usedta not all long ago usedta be babies, grow up.

Life's a great ride if you've got the struts and the shocks for it.

The entire time I've been writing to you honey (remember, my blog is my 'wife') wonderful thunder has been rumbling in the background.  Today, actually more fitting, peaceful than the usual youtube Stevie Nicks, Freddie Mercury and Ray, What'd I say, Charles. 

Listen up....... and watch for deer, dear.

Love, Victurd 

Psychology Today.... and yesterday... and tomorrow......

Worry = negative connotation.

Ain't it?

"I have spent most of my life worrying about things that have never happened."  Mark Twain

 English Proverb: "Worry is like sitting in a rocking chair.  It gives you something to do, but, it doesn't get you anywhere."

"Worrying is like paying on a debt that may never come due."  Will Rogers.

I'm a simpleton.  Pretty much all'a that tells me "huh uh, nope, don't do it. You'll shoot your eye out" or something like that.

My favorite kind of worry (IS THERE sucha thing?) I think so.   Dreams.  I dunno about you but I am a BIG TIME worrier in dream.  I have dreams where I'm goofing up on a project at a place I worked over ten years ago.  Momentarily awaken, look at clock (12:37am)  roll back over.

Dream, continued.  I honestly am OK when I make a mistake, but the thought of being construed as incompetent, "dumb", uncaring are all fingernails to the chalkboard of upholding values I learned from my folks (and many) growing up and it bugs the heck out of me.  I momentarily awaken again, 2:53am, sweaty, train the fan back on me, rollover.

Dreams, the final paragraph, mebbe.  I even have dreams where I DO NOT want to goof up as a husband, and I ain't been married in over 20 years.  Awaken, look at clock, 4:34am, logistically closer to 'really time to get up." So, I sit on edge of bed.  Ya know how a dog shakes all the crud/water off when he gets outta the pond?  That's kinda what it feels like waking up from a dream. the realization, "Damnit, GOT ME again" coupled with whewwwww, thank goodness THAT wasn't real."  I hate 'em (the dream, the worry) whilst they happen, but that kind I can live with.

I'm getting WAY off the beaten path.  I've spent a lifetime overthinking.  Short fingernails. Pacing.  Inability to concentrate on a needed task.  I actualy (TMI) usedta be on meds for anxiety, but, haven't taken 'em for two years, and as far as I can tell, HaSn'T aFfEcTeD mE iN tHe LeAsT.

Har.

This morning I was gonna do a blog on "DON'T WORRY (it's BAD for you) BE HAPPY."

Instead, I Googled, "Is there any benefit from worry?"  Lo and behold, Psychology Today had an article from 2020 entitled "Why worry might be good for you after all."

MUSIC. TO. MY. EARS.  Hello, I loveya won't you tell me your name? I know I overdo much.  But too, I've always thought certain paths of worry ain't really a bad thing...  "Health... performance at work.. social interaction.. leading, ie, as a boss, parent, teacher, coach... I think it's ok to challenge one's self "Am I doing this ok? Right?  See any changes i could make to help?"  Yada.

Normally, I steal crap like this, paraphrase and plagiarize the writer.  Instead today, I'm simply gonna paste it below.  And, not worry about it.  I found it of benefit, and if  you do as well, then we're all better off.

Have a nice day. I mean that.  Oh, and here's the article:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/common-sense-science/202601/why-worry-might-be-good-for-you-after-all

Love, Victurd 

  

Danger Will Robinson, Toto, Dorothy, and the whole damn Metro area........

We made it.  Safely.

People are strange...  well, that IS true (ain't we all?) but, didn't mean to put it in here.  People are NICE.  Two very caring nieces texting, calling, concerned that I "RUN TO THE CELLAR".  Bless them truly, but they both know I ain't ran since way before 47's 45, prolly even before Obamacare.

There's a text chain of Senior golfers I'm delightfully included in.  It's normally reserved for "We tee off at 8am tomorrow" or, "Ernie has gout, he ain't playin'" or, "too cold", "too hot", that crap.  But, yesterday, all the texts were "RUN FORREST!  TORNADO ON THE GROUND IN LIBERTY!  By William Jewell.  291 and 210"

Those of us that still had power were able to watch vein splittin' out Weather folks begging same ("Take cover now!) with their pretty blue, green, red, ORANGE... "ROTATION IN THAT ONE. SEE THAT HOOK?"  Now I had cataract surgery long ago, but no, can't. I can barely see the ABC in the upper lefthand corner of the boob tube.

It's like anything in life.  Ya watch.  Ya observe.  Ya fret, and I ain't talking about playing a guitar.  Ya worry.

Layoff rumors. Drought.  Bad enuff we ain't gots no hay, even if we did, there ain't nuttin' to warsh it down.  Your Doctor told you WHAT? DAMN, I'm sorry.  That's why I don't go. VICTOR!  Eh, I'll be fine and dandy, right Dolly?  I kinda enjoy hard candy, what with however many choppers I gots left in my jaw.

Hearing "I think I want a divorce", and of course the scientific proven "for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction" in this case, it's like Fred Sanford, backing up, clutching his heart.. "IS THIS THE BIG ONE?"

And........... we're back to Square one........ laying in bed.  Trepid. Dare I/we pull the covers off our noggin' so we can see out the winder...  borrow the speech from Freddie "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide no escape from reality.  Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see........"  

As I peek, I just gotta know, did the tornado pick me up, twirl round and round, Odessa to Excelsior, Leavenworth to Atchison, Olathe to.......... OH NO, PLEASE DON'T DUMP ME IN LAWRENCE KANSAS.. I ain't a beggar, but I would! 

Life is ALL ABOUT hic-em-ups, riding round and round that lazy river... smiles about..   then holy crap, WIND, RAIN, ROYALS LOSE, SNOW, ICE, BLIZZARDS, $4 GASOLINE, $7 EGGS (Hey, quit yer bitchin' there's plenty of TP in aisle 7.")  DIVORCE. UNEMPLOYMENT OFFICES. the ROYALS LOSE, MAHOMES TEARS HIS ACL, MCL,CDL, LTL, LRC, what the L?  ROYALS LOSE. 

Can I peek out now?  I'm just a poor boy nobody loves me, HE'S JUST A POOR BOY FROM A POOR FAMILY. 

It's a cycle.  But........ we peek out.  It don't look to bad out.  

Wait a minute, it's stopped hailing.  Guys are swimming, guys are sailing. Playing baseball, gee that's better, Muddah, Faddah kindly disregard this blog.

Life comes full cycle.  If you wait long enough, Nurse Ratched has three days off, the Wicked Witch of the East has splinters in her butt... Ernest T can't find no stones..  I've got an itchy itchy rash. Bryclreem a little dab'll doya, ...no wait, I mean Benadryl.

 I'm not a fan of lime, but dayum, is there any better eatin' than coconut cracked open right from the tree?

I just peeked out the door.  I live really close to the weather siren.  Last night it got a long, long workout. I, and some 30,000 other Liberty residents heard it. We was tossin' and turnin', turnin' and tossin', tossin' and turnin' all night.

I see sunlight.  I see the wunnerful 2002 Buick Century under the walnut tree.  There ain't limb one on it. Ain't even no walnuts atop.  Even though, "Houston, we gotta problem".. we only play them once more today, the Astros will prolly kick our booty again, sweep the Series".. .but hey... it looks pretty nice out.

IT'S STILL THE WEEKEND!  What are we gonna do this weekend Bernie?

Bernie?                              BERNIE?                             Oh sh*t.

I'm gonna have smiles, hope you do as well.

Love, Victurd 

Golden Acres and Oh the games people play now.............

Third day on the Job for new Activities Director Jennifer.  She'd graduated a semester early, one of them directional schools, forget which.. but she'd applied, was accepted/hired by Golden Acres, Smalltown, Missouri last week.

Proud she was, as the ink on her diploma was still wet... she had an itch on her ear, scratched it, and now she was literally and figuratively wet behind the ears.

Day 1, she couldn't decide between Bowling, Bingo and Where's Bambi, a new game she kinda liked.  Bowling, nope, figured it'd take too long to gather, setup the plastic pins each time - so it was out.  Bingo, they'd probably played since the first Bush was in office, that's a 'No' as well.

So........... it was close to Christmas, why not "Where's Bambi?"  

 "Ladies first.........." so all six of em were armed with Nerf guns... enough power, speed on 'em to make you holler "OUCH" but, even a direct hit couldn't, wouldn't be causation for another cataract surgery.

The dude, or, "Bucks", outnumbered (there's five of 'em) were given Antler hats and asked to run in and out, and around the Christmas Tree whilst the Annie Oakley's loaded, fired, and "WOOOO-WHOOOO'ED" whenever they scored a direct hit.

 "GOTCHA CHARLIE, TAKE A SEAT MATE!"......"OUCH!" Down goes Bernie..... Archie was fast, agile, and pretty much a fulltime womanizer..  "Missed me missed me, now ya gotta kiss me" as he ran up to Clara for a smooch as she was reloading....  "ARCHIE!" Jennifer admonished... so he ran back behind the tree.

TIMES UP!  Score, Oakley's two, Roy Rogers team, coming up to 'bat'.

They swapped.  Dudes in their chairs, ladies now all Antlered up.. .rarin' to run. "GO!" Jennifer hollered, then added, "Where's Bambi"... "I'll showya where Bambi is" Harvey hollered - they all knew "No way Jose", as Harv had pop bottle glasses, he'd be lucky to get a Nerf bullet within ten feet of 'em. 

For seven whole minutes, the Bucks loaded, aimed, fired..........missed.    Finally, "BOOMSHACKALACKALACKA, gotya Opal!"......... 2 to 1.  Approaching seven MORE minutes, Hank excused himself to go to the restroom, the bucks continued loading, aiming, missing.  They were in a rut, so to speak.

Finally, Mildred screams "YOU SONOFAB*TCH YOU HANK! YOU CHEATED!"  Jennifer was shocked.  Cussin' wasn't allowed, not since that knockdown dragout three years ago in Pinochle...   Bea seen Hank put a slingshot in his back pocket, "JENNIFER! HE CHEATED!"

Seems Hank, a Boy Scout, Boy Scout leader for life, had gone to his room, snatched his slingshot, "I'll show them" and now was in deep doggy do.

Game day #1 over.......................... Hank was given a warning, "Next time something like that happens, nope, you can't join in."  "Scouts honor, there won't be a next time" but, he laughed as he said it.

Day two.  WHACK-A-MOLE.  One afternoon after work, Jennifer took the company van to Nebraska Furniture Mart, went to the loading dock and begged for a dozen of them washer and dryer empty boxes.  Got 'em.  Loaded up, back to Golden, she cut holes in six of 'em big enough for heads to pop out... readied them in the rec area..............  "All gather."

Ladies again went first.  Men were given six foot long pool noodles.. the gals jumped inside the washer/dryer boxes... moved as fast as they could from one box to the next, popped their heads up, hoping not to be WHACKED as they did.  There was laughter, occasional "GOTYAS"..    Whistle blown...  SWITCH PLACES..... 

Archie, Harv, Hank, Ernie and Charlie jumped inside the boxes, now, the moles.  Ohhhhh the ladies had fun timing their whacks whenever a head popped up.."This is more fun than Chucky Cheese" barked Beaulah... Mildred had to pee... took her noodle with her... wasn't long after she'd returned Hank was screamin' bloody murder "DAMN YOU MILDRED!"...   Apparently, Mildred had grabbed a broom handle from the squatter, slid it inside the pool noodle, and more than repaid Hank for his slingshot assault on her.

Jennier ended the game a tad early... sweat dripping off her face by now.

Day three.  Insteada competition, she'd play a game where all would exercise at the same time, not any kind of contest.  The original, Hokey Pokey.

 All eleven of 'em circled up... she started the record player.........

You put your right foot in
You put your right foot out
You put your right foot in
And you shake it all about
You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around
That`s what it`s all about!

 

It wasn't a good start.  On the first "right foot in" three tennis ball walker and one cane went down.  Music stopped, but undaunted, she continued once they were all on their feet.

You put your left foot in
You put your left foot out
You put your left foot in
And you shake it all about
You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around
That`s what it`s all about!

 

Only lost two this time, and, none really hurt. Party on Garth.

You put your right hand in  MYRTLE FLIPPED ME OFF!
You put your right hand out   DID NOT!
You put your right hand in     DID TOO!
And you shake it all about
You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around
That`s what it`s all about!

You put your left hand in     ARCHIE GRABBED MY BUTT!
You put your left hand out     DID NOT!
You put your left hand in    DID TOO!
And you shake it all about
You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself around
That`s what it`s all about! 

 

DAY 4.   Jennifer reflected, rethunk all she'd learned at Directional State U, grabbed the Pinochole cards...  Placed Myrtle, Hank AND Archie in time out in the lobby BEFORE the cards were dealt.....................................

 

Smooth sailing. Quiet.  Got along.   Back to their rooms they went, Jennifer walked to the Lobby to tell Myrtle, Hank and Archie they too could go back.

 

Uh oh.

 

They weren't there. Additionally, the Golden Acres van wasn't in it's normal Handicap spot.

 

Jennifer and the Floor Supervisor were able to GPS track the van, by now it appeared to be headed back into Golden Acres.  Come to find out, somehow Hank found a key... they'd swung by Smitty's Liquors... when they rolled back into Golden, Myrtle and Archie were in the second seat making out.... "YOU SAID SCOUT'S HONOR HANK!" "Yeah but had ma' fingers crossed behind my back."

 

Oh the games people play now.

 

Jennifer, who never joined a sorority or even attended a kegger at Directional State U, somehow found herself stopping in Smitty's three consecutive nights for a Bota Box....   She gave her two weeks notice, and even left a week early after she acquired  a behind the scenes job in Suburbia, Missouri in the HR Office of Shady Acres.

 

A little diddie, about Charlie, Bernie, Bea. Archie, Clara, Mildred, Hank, Beaulah, Myrtle, Opal and Harv.... older American kids doin' the best they can....  while they still could.

 

Love, Victurd 

You have the right to remain............................. pissy.

Futility happens.  We've all heard (VICTOR, speak for yourself, mebbe they ain't) the true tale of Tampa Bay Buccaneers football coach John McCay, after the 1976 inaugural NFL season and his team sported an 0-14 record... when asked, "What do you think about the execution of your team?" replied, "I'm in favor of it."

If you've followed the Kansas City Royals this year, my first question, is, Why?  Just kidding kinda sorta but MAN it gets tough to stay, continue to watch.  The first thing that comes to mind is their LOFT with RISP.  The RISP means "runners in scoring position" ie, on 2nd and or 3rd base, and the LOFT stands for "Lack Of Friggin Talent" in those situations.     

 

After projections to win their division with 85+ wins, they are on pace to win only 64 games.  That. Ain't. Good.  Victor, this is getting real boring.  I agree.  I'm certain I've mentioned I work at a small golf course. (Yes Victor, I counted, that's the 34th time you've told us that.) Bite me.

 

Senior golfers gather daily, play a 'scramble', come to the back deck after for either a Diet Mountain Dew or a Miller Lite... they settle their heavy bets (Erv, you owe Charlie a dollar), and in effort to keep things light - a trivia question is asked after they play.  The other day it was "What is the record for the most consecutive losses for the Kansas City Royals in a season?"  Grumble, groan, 17?  12?  16?  24?  The actual record?  19 losses in a row in 2005. (Whoever guesses exactly, or, closest to, gets a free drink, please don't tell my boss.)

 

That particular season, 2005, the team was composed of some of the nicest, yet reserved young men you'd ever seen.  Some might suggest "Goody Goods", others might call it "Choir Boys", whadever and it don't matter to me... but...  one of the grizzled vets, after the 19th loss in a row............ called a team meeting.  "Something HAS to change.  Tonight, at 3am, we are having a 'bed check'.  If any of you hayseeds are IN BED, it's your a**." ie, let your hair down.

 

Baseball has a history in futility.  1874, Boston Red Stockings outfielder Tommy Beals made SIX consecutive errors.  The next inning, as he jogged from the bench, coach asked "Tommy, where ya going" Well coach, I'm going to centerfield.  "The hell you taking your glove for?"............  Same, similar thing, Steve Balboni, Bo Jackson, Mark Reynolds, each,  struckout NINE times in a row.

 

Then, ya got Bob Uecker.  "I knew my career was over in 1965 when my baseball card came out and there was no picture."... or... "When I came to bat in the 9th, bases loaded, two outs, I peeked in the other team's dugout and they were already in street clothes.".. or, from when all the futility began, "I signed a very modest $3000 bonus with the Braves in Milwaukee, and my old man didn't have that kinda money to put out."

 

Speakin'a strikeouts, or, mebbe crying Wolfe, Glynn Wolfe holds the record 26 divorces (out of 29 marriages).  His last "I do" (or, "I did") was a publicity stunt marriage to Linda Taylor (Wolfe) who held the record for women with 28 marriages.   

 

While the exact record for number of times hearing "YOU'RE FIRED" ain't fer sure, it's fer sure some guy named Colonel Sanders was fired  "dozens of times" before, winner winner, chicken dinner ever happened.

 

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"... a British tourist heard, in Dubai,.. 33 times...  in a four hour period..  driving a yellow Lamborghini.

 

Lincoln failed in business twice and lost eight elections.  Spielberg failed to get into USC's School of Cinematic Arts  three times due to poor grades.

 

Famed hypostist Martin St. James held the record, successfully hypnotizing 3,800 people in Taiwan.  That record was broken today by blogger Victurd, when 3,801 people fell asleep reading this.

 

Love, Victurd