I talk too much..................... but..........

you knew that.

Sorry, kinda.

This, I think, is a hodgepodge.

Some website know-all relates 'Hodgepodge is an alteration of hotchpotch, which once referred to a thick soup of barley, peas, and other vegetables, and sometimes includes meat."

I can't cook. Scratch that.  Ain't got the urge for it.  Usedta. Have had.  Now, it's all junk, microwave. 

Victor, this is boring.

Much, I find, in life, is boring.

I got back from Mickey D's recently.  I buy from my app (enter 'tightwad' here... I shop for clothes at the dead people's clothes store, I use my calculator when I'm someplace and I tip so I don't over (or under) tip.  I watch my money closely for, I've found I'm horrible at watching my money - if that makes any sense.

The dreaded 2-lane line at Mickey.  Right (outside) lane. Car infronta me had already ordered (pulled up, but just a tad).  He/she had room to pull up to the car infronta them so I could order, but nope, remained where they be, so....impatient old guy who has ABSOLUTELY no reason to 'hurry', mebbe said a baby 'u little turd', under my breath.

Car pulled into inside lane. Car intfronta him still at speaker, but, there was room for that car to pull up some.  New guy on inside lane honked. Two times.  Guy on the outside lane (me) thought "You idiot, that's crude.. and rude."   Less will get you shot nowadays.  Witness the recent Chief's Super Bowl celebration parade, hundreds of thousands gathered to celebrate.  Some guy didn't like the way another guy looked at him.  Tempers rose, as did pistols, and... it resulted in 16 (I think) kids shot.. one person deceased.. 

I don't understand life sometimes, nor death.

Car infronta me finally pulled up. I let crude guy go infronta me, wanted to give him a hand gesture, then I remembered the parade.  Life is short, why make it shorter.

I got up to window one. Nice dude, fine smile, said "Order for Vic?" Yep, that's me. Yesterday, much the same.  One exception. I got up to window one. Nice dudeTTE, fine smile, said "Order for Vic?" ...'Yep, and you got a nice smile.'  Life is weird.  Why did I tell the little gal she had a nice smile but not the young guy?

Got home.  High School girl's volleyball match on TV. Already on when I walked in. Thumbed thru channels..  didn't see nuttin' better, went back, watched.  Talented.  Amazing, after watching through 'all the rings (years) around my 'tree', the advancement of girls/ladies, in athletics.

Between points, the teams on the floor would gather in circle, arms around one another hug-style.  I just used some lyrics from this song yesterday (or so), so, sorry (not really) to repeat:

"Every kind of girl
There was long ones, tall ones, short ones, brown ones
Black ones, round ones, big deal ones"

Diversity, in a court, World, high school.  They were all unique.  Sure, many tall, but too, some mediums, and even two little-bitty (one on each team)- and the little bitty ones wore plain white uni's, unlike the others.  Setters I think they called them.

As I watched, I wondered (inside, to my brain) if they had any idea how good life, this specific moment, is/was.  They had yet to learn first hand, how'd Sam Cooke put it?  "That's the sound of the men (women) Working on the chain gang.. . That's the sound of the men (women) Working on the chain gang.

Victor?  That song is about PRISONERS!  Uh huh.  And, once mom/pop say "Don't let that door hitya in the booty", that's what you do until age 65, or, you're a lucky soul, saved well, married well, have healthcare, can mebbe retire early.

Those encircled chicks on the volleyball court (VICTOR, YOU MISOGYNIST!) relax, I'm funnin... They had not yet had 2:30am breastfeeding duty. Nightly clean the house crap because the kids were too dang young to do so themselves.  They had not learned yet, it's OK to say "Not tonight honey, I've got (a big day tomorrow, headache, exhausted, worrying about bills, a mean boss, or mebbe even, I just ain't feeling it.)

Would those encircled...  who would go on to work a lifetime of helping people in healthcare?  Mebbe, at least for the time being, asking "Would you like fries or tots with that?"... Could any of them gotten usedto two incomes, only to have that instantaneously reduced to one due to (death, divorce, I'm sorry, I find I'm attracted to the same sex.. many, many reasons why half the time it don't work.. and, a hunnerd percent'a the time it ends.)

Would they continue to live fo'er and 'er in Podunk, or Suburbia, the Big City.. or, grow wings?

Would any of them lead a life of crime?  Addiction?  Have to deal with affliction? Used their heart, mind, soul in assisting an elderly parent as they make the transition from Golden years to the turf?

Would they go to their 10th class reunion?  40th?  Would they hug, even remember, those others encircled?   Would they stop and say a kind word, story, wish that, "It's not the same without (enter the name of a buddy that died way too dayum young) here."  Could it have been soo many years from that time-out, great big group hug, that "I kinda remember your face, but what was your name again" happens?

Will they.............. travel?  Have a girls weekend in Florida?  Go to the local Corner Bar once a month? Golf?  Join, lead, a book club?  Knit? Sew?  Could they run a 5K at age 35?  55? Will they ever break a bone?  A piece'a their best china?  A heart?

Will they be a Pub or a Dem, and, if so, would they still do that circle hug of the entire team again one day?

Will they save each, every, crayola drawing their snotnoses have done, once, the refrigerator limit has been reached?  

 

If their little turd forgot to flush the stool and it was still, obviously yellow pee in there, would they think "That's cute" or would they have 'em march right back in there to flush? IF, they found 'it's cute', would they have the patience to think the same way if it were their stepkid's pee?

As they go from dorm to apartment to starter home to bigger home with stairs, rooms for growth....  so goes their dinner furniture... tray table to folding table to table/four chairs, to bigass old thing with slats, more chairs stashed in the basement for Holidays.

Would there one day be empty chairs around those tables, and if so, would they all hurt the same or some, more than others?

Will Facebook still be here for them when they're fittysomething?  Will they get a spooky friend request from a deceased friend?  Have a tear when a memory from ten years ago pops up and so and so (now gone) had laughed, commented on their post? Will the day come, and if so, at what age, they realize "life really really is precious, BUT, can too be fleeting"?

Will they see crying as...  a good thing... a self pity thing? If so, are happy tears ok?

I know, ya ain't gotta say.  My brain is weird.  People watching (a circle of vibrant, beautiful, talented kiddos) prompts the blood (thoughts?) in my brain to go out (like arteries) and sometimes thoughts sneak back in (like veins.)

I don't recall which team won.  Is that too perhaps a lesson in life?

I did notice, as they played, and time, the game(s) ran on... jubilation..  disappointment.. signs of tiredness.. getting up when they occasionally had fallen.. complimented teammates.. caught an occasional "eye" from their coach (ie, the boss)..  they made mistakes..   they done good.

It all reminded me a lot like life.

Please keep this our secret. I kinda thought, the impatient guy who honked while on the inside lane at Mickey D's was an asshole. (More, way more than once, I've heard, "Oh, we see a new side to Victor.")

Sorry to cuss, but not really.

Love, Victurd

You are getting sleeeeeepy... verrrrrrrrrryyyy sleeeeeeeepppyyyyy....

The hurried we go, the behinder we get, or something like that.  Or, maybe as we age, slow, the bigger our behinds get, something like that.

Dander.   Goose.   Things that really usedta 'get my dander' up, don't no mo'.   Stuff that usedta woulda 'got my goose', don't. Oh sure, I/we slip, but, for the most part, huh uh.  

This being old crap is kinda nice.  Arguments, disagreements, "you always have control of the remote"...  "Honey, we really can't afford that.".. "We went to your sidea the family last Christmas." Nope, huh uh, no mo'.  We don't do dat (sample WWF-like baiting) no mo'. Tain't worth it  

I know.. I know how difficult it is to follow my brain.  Hell, I've been doing it for 71 years and I still get lost. Let's try peeking another way.  What, put us in your shoes Victor?  Nope.  Put us in dog paws. HUH? Yeah, on the 4th of July.  Sometimes, LIFE (bottle rockets,M-80's, those annoying snap things the snotnoses throw on the sidewalk, all pop/loud crap encompassed) drive(s) us sooooooooooooooo batty (dander, goose) that we gotta block it all out, Pandora up some Beethoven, turn the lights low.... mebbe some kinda trickling stream noise in the background....... and chill.  Chillax.   Wine?  Sure, why not but notta have too. Or, mebbe a chew toy...

Our metabolism slows after age 60, whatever metabolism is.  Something about conversion of the energy in food to energy to run cellular processes, proteins, lipids, nucleic acid, some carbs... and as I looked that up (thanks Wiki) - it kinda reminded me of exactly what I'm talking about, Oh noooooo, I'm back in school, nervous, fidgety stuff...  I no likey to get excited... well..  you know..  I mean dander, goose, tug'a war, stuff like "say, did you hear what so and so said about so and so" (RUN FOREST, I'LL FOLLER YOU)...

As time wanes, the need is there to 'fill'er up ethyl' (our days/hours) with good, happy crap - not the fingernail/blackboard stuff where we gotta in turn plop plop fizz fizz oh what a relief it is tablet..

This ain't about a marital argument 'cause, of course, I ain't married... it's more about a people argument in general... or, the tugging, magnetic field some try to pull one into 'put your dukes up'.  Here fishy fishy. I, we, ain't going there.  Or, as Phil Collins put it back in 1982:

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

You can tell everybody 'bout the state I'm in
You won't catch me crying 'cause I just can't win
I don't care anymore
I don't care anymore, d'you hear?

And, I don't necessarily mean personal affronts.  Any kinda stressy, help-get-me-outta-here stuff.

I don't care what you say
I don't play the same games you play  (I agree Phil.)

If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding!
How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?  Victor, that's two songs.  THAT, the "Victor, that's two songs" is the kinda crapola I'm talking about.  Just stop! Actually, I'd like a big ole slicea that filet AND some chocolate pudding, then maybe I'll sing a THIRD song, ha, take THAT!

Life should be a hot air balloon ride on a calm day.., notta "This is your Captain speaking,  please put your tray tables up, fasten your seatbelt, we're going to experience turbulence ahead."

No, ya can't wear blinders in life.  I guess, you could, but you'd still see stuff.  You can slip on the noise eradicating headphones, but still, roman candles, the loud neighbor next door, or the way too domineering person out in public - will still slip thru the cracks, into your  ears.

Ducks have a fascinating way of dealing with rain. Their feathers are naturally waterproof, thanks to a special oil they produce from a gland near their tails. This oil coats their feathers, creating a barrier that makes water roll off, keeping them dry and warm. THAT. That's what I'm talking about. Quack quack.

Wouldya stand up for yourself Victor?  Sure, and hopefully diplomatically.  What about for a friend.  Heck to the yeah.  You would too!  It's just that sometimes life is all about "Dance a little sidestep" - right Governor?  Way too many songs Victor. Bite me. Whoops, sorry. Nevermind on the bite me.  I don't care what you say, I don't play the same games you play.

Relax. Chillax. Porch swing. Ludwig. 

They're gonna put me in the movies.. they're gonna make a big star outta me.. they'll make a film about a man that's a happy crony, and all I gotta do is, dopamine naturally.....  yeah, you know.. sunshine..  meditation..  MUSIC.. naps.. take a walk, that stuff.

Victor, you're weird......    I don't care what you say, I don't play the same games you play.

Victor, If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding! 
How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?  Easy peasy..  Tupperware. I'll munch on the hot dog tomorrow.

Victor, are you aware some make fun of your blog?  I don't care what you say, I don't play the same games you play.

Put another nickel in, in the nickelodeon

Have a fun day........ I'm gonna try.........

Love, Victurd.

(VICTOR... I'd grade this blog a D.)    Delightful, thanks

Her name was Lola.........

Almost everything is up to date in Kansas City.......

Victor.  You forget.  We've been in (WA, SoCal, FL, STL, IL SW Mo, Larryville, TX, CO, wherever else) soooooooooooooooooooo long... our connection to Kansas City represents (hold your index finger and thumb up, allowing just a pinch of light 'tween) that, about that long... write about something else.....

Too bad, so sad, sorry........... but not really.  I ain't such an idiot to realize Liberty, MO... Kansas City aren't THE only good, fun, nice places in the US.... there are many communities, big cities, yada... that are Piggly Wiggly sliced bread great too.  It's just that......... consider......

Oh boy.. here he comes with that Patrick Mahomes crap...he'll prolly add in some junk about Travis and Taylor... Jake from State Farm, the Eras Tour, yada...  "3 Super Bowls Championships in 5 years"...... enuff Victor, enuff.

Hey.  I get it. I remember admiring (hating) The stinking Yankees in the 70's... Elway/Denver.. Manning/Indy... Manning/Denver...  Brady/Pats,again and again and again... we ain't been 'in this seat' for a long time... pardon me if I wave out the window like, how's that homecoming queen do it?  Kinda keep the arm stiff, rotate the wrist in wave?

And then The Royals...  VICTOR!  STOP.  No. PLEASE? Huh uh.  They are in Cleveland. Cleveland is in first place.  We whooped  their butt (twice) yesterday. Win tonight, TIED for first place!

OK........ enough about Sports....  Thank Goodness.......

Other good stuff is happening in town.  Why, just last night...  As all of these aging musicians, groups have their "I promise this is my last tour, never eva' again, once more before we keel, just one more beer, please"......... Barry Manilow was in town for his One Last Time Tour.

Victor?  So?  So, he did/does good.  How so?  A few years back, prolly on his "Next To Last Time Tour", he caught wind of a high school band teacher who had taken a part time job to buy music instruments for the kiddos because the School District couldn't/wouldn't. Soooooooooooooooooooooooooo....... EACH and every City on his One Last Time I Promise My Hands Ain't Behind My Back So My Fingers Ain't Crossed Tour... he's giving $10,000 to a 'handpicked' High School Music Teacher.  Half of the dough goes toward buying instruments for that teacher's school district - the other half goes to the teacher him/herself, as we know fer sure they're underpaid.  Oh Mandy, that's cool.

OK, thanks Victor.. Seeya tomorrow.

Wait.  I ain't done. Wait justa gol' durn' minute.  Hold on a peapicking sec.

Dolly is here today.  Oh, OK Victor, thanks. Prolly for her One Last Tour/Scene With Jolene?  Nuh uh.  This really ain't about Kansas City.. it's about kids.  Doing good with kids, which Dolly most certainly does.  She's traversing the State of Missouri to promote her Imagination Library.

Dolly says, "Before he passed away, my Daddy told me the Imagination Library was probably the most important thing I had ever done. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me because I created the Imagination Library as a tribute to my Daddy. He was the smartest man I have ever known but I know in my heart his inability to read probably kept him from fulfilling all of his dreams."

Of course she notes "I haven't done this alone, I've had A LOT of help."  The gist, any child in the US, by signing up, can get one book a month mailed to them until they are five years old. Holy guacamole that's a lotta books (TWO MILLION A MONTH!) and can you imagine how many lil snotnoses should be able to spell guacamole with all them books?  You go Dolly.  Your daddy SHOULD be proud.

OK, Victor. DONE?  Hope so.

Sorry.......... One more.  Dogstar.  WHO? WHAT? You're gonna brag about a damn dog in Kansas City?  Nuh uh.  I'm gonna brag about Keanu Reeves and his band, Dogstar.  They're in KC at the Uptown Theater (I think tomorrow) and a buddy has tickets, gets to meet Mr. Reeves backstage.

I just included this because I LIKE GOOD.  Say what you want, the Chiefs have been perty good. The Royals, well, we're from The Show Me State, but, they're getting pretty good.  Thenya got Manilow (band instrument buyer giver outter), Dolly (book after book after book, FREE)..  and Keanu.  Whatabout Keanu Victor?

He's cool, that's what.  His sister battled leukemia, he founded a private cancer foundation, which aids children's hospitals and provides cancer research.  He actually voluntered, stayed for a Camp for kids with cancer in Idaho.  We've heard about how generous he is with coworkers in his movies..  $20,000 to one whose family was having a financial crisis..  12 new Harley's as a way to say thanks to all the stunt members of The Matrix Reloaded..  He's done, given much.

That's about it. Everything is now up to date in Kansas City. Sorry (not) for braggin', and thanks for listening.

VICTOR?

Huh?

Whatthehell is "Her name was Lola" about?

Oh, that's from Manilow's song Copacabana. 1978.  I've lived a life of not really paying great attention.  ADHD to this specific song, prolly ADHD to ACDC and the Village People's YMCA.  I'm sorry, AOK?

I've heard the song a kajilliion times.  I never paid attention to the fact Lola, a showgirl, had fallen in love with Tony, the barkeep, and that.. some dude name Rico had gone a bit too far as Lola danced... Tony came to her rescue..  Rico zapped the poor guy with his pistol.. 

And........... well............ let's let Paul Harvey tell the rest.........

Her name is Lola
She was a showgirl
But that was 30 years ago
When they used to have a show
Now it's a disco, but not for Lola
Still in the dress she used to wear
Faded feathers in her hair

She sits there so refined
And drinks herself half-blind
She lost her youth, and she lost her Tony
Now she's lost her mind

Point is............ with all the crap of today...... we needs us some good. There is much out there. In KC, and in every city in America.

Good day.  (Uh huh, it is)

Love, Victurd

Who am I?

I, Mr. Aurandt (no Googling you cheaters) was born on September 4, 1918 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. My pappy was a Tulsa policeman who served as secretary to commissioner JH Atkinson.  When I was three, in December of 1921, dad and another Tulsa officer, Ike Wilkerson, went rabbit hunting.  TBC.........

Four masked men approached them with the intent to rob them, and my father was shot.  He passed away in the hospital two days later.  Thanks to a large scale manhunt, all four suspects were arrested the day after dad died.  Taken to the local jail, a lynch mob of 1,000+ showed up, but, the suspects were smuggled outta jail.  Two would later be convicted of murder after being identified by my father's hunting buddy, Detective Wilkerson.

As a child, I made radio receivers and attended Tulsa Central High School where I was a Senior when some feller named Tony Randall was a sophomore. Onea my teachers was impressed by my voice, so, she helped me get on to clean radio station KVOO in Tulsa when i was 14.  Down the road a piece, they allowed me to start reading commercials on the air. My beginning!

Continued to work there whilst I went to the University of Tulsa, first as an announcer, then as a program director.  Victor, this is boring, can you spiff it up a tad?  I'll try.

From there. KFBI in Wichita, to KOMA in Ok City on then on to KXOK in St. Louie, MO. 1938 by now.

Mahalo, from Hawaii just after attack on Pearl Harbor to cover the US Navy and their fleet concentration in the Pacific.  I joined up with the United States Army Air Corp - didn't serve too long (Medical discharge) but, twas there I gained my love of flying.  I belonged to the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association for more than 50 years... and by gosh I spent a lotta time in Oshkosh with the Experimental Aircraft Association.

Spiff it up Victor.

After the War, on to Chicago, for, ha, fortune and fame, with my start hosting Jobs for GI Joe on WENR.  Then I started that really famous program, but I can't tellya the name because this this blog would be kaput.

One of my topics was lax security, particularly at Argonne National Laboratory, a nuclear research facility 20 miles outside of Chicago.  In fact, to demonstrate my concerns, on February 6, 1951, I scaled a fence, and was quickly apprehended by security guards.  By the time I keeled, the FBI had over 1,400 pages in a file on me, something about "participatory act of journalism" (when I hopped that fence). The US Attorney for Illinois wanted the Grand Jury to consider an espionage indictment on me, I went on the air, pleaded my case and the Grand Jury declined to indict me.

Yah, my radio show went National in the 40's...  I used a lotta catchphrases (not yet blog reader!).. and I always ended my program the same way. (Another giveaway, sorry). At the end of reports about someone who had done something, I'd oft times say "He would want us to mention his name" followed by silence... and then onto the next item, which, was usually a funny story... then, a "now from the for-what-its-worth department...

I'd do "Here's a strange" story with an unusual twist... and "self government won't work without self-discipline."   I would often migrate from context to to commercial and some'a them folks called me the "finest huckster to ever roam the airwaves." Ahm, like I cared?  I'd just signed a ten year $100 million dollar contract with ABC in 2000.

I had some buddies you might heard of.... .J. Edgar Hoover... they say he mighta help get me off that espionage charge... Senator Joseph McCarthy (I supported his campaign to expose and expel communists)...  and the Reverand Billly Graham.. 

I passed in February of 2009.  In my obitiuary, the NY Times wrote:

[He] personalized the radio news with his right wing opinions, but laced them with his own trademarks: a hypnotic timbre, extended pauses for effect, heart-warming tales of average Americans and folksy observations that evoked the heartland, family values and the old-fashioned plain talk one heard around the dinner table on Sunday.

"Hello, Americans," he barked. "This is _____ _____ ! Stand byyy for newwws!"

He railed against welfare cheats and defended the death penalty. He worried about the national debt, big government, bureaucrats who lacked common sense, permissive parents, leftist radicals and America succumbing to moral decay. He championed rugged individualism, love of God and country, and the fundamental decency of ordinary people.

I did tidbits of my show during World War II... then in 1976 I had my own series on ABC Radio.pretty much until I passed.  I have no idea what happened to the MARGIN. Sorry, kinda.  Hey, it's free.

And now you know.......

The Rest of the Story....

Paul Harvey (Aurandt)

Good Day

VICTOR? I just looked at his Wiki page... and, whilst not verbatim, you got virually all the crap above from there?

And now you know.....

The Rest of my Blogs

Love, Victurd

(Have a) Good Day

#'s................... but, who's counting?

Fitty million termites will attend public schools in the United States this year.  Halfa them dudes, dudettes will ride a school bus.  6 million will walk or ride their Schwinn. I suppose mom, dad, granny, gramps, someone, will fetch the remainder via car.

Three million will walk from their bed, swing by the bathroom, grab a bite to eat in the kitchen, then head to the living room (or den, rec room, extra bedroom, whateva') to be home schooled.

This ain't numbers, but, I thought I saw you nodding off, so, to wake you up.......Rugrats in Zamboanga City (Phillipines) hop on yellow boats...  Caracas, Venezuela, they'll ride a gondola lift.  I don't ask questions, I just work here.

87% of US Public School folks will eventually flip the tassel left to right (or is it right to left?) and is tassel maybe spelled tassle?  (Side note, 29,711 will go on to work in the striptease industry, thereby, continuing their tassle-flipping ways.)  MISOGYNIST!  (Bite me, some site called Zippia indicates only 23% of strippers are female, the remainder are dudes. I don't write, count 'em, I just work here.)

68 percent of those who 'just hop of the bus, Gus' snotnoses who flipped tassle (the hat kind) get married. The remaining 32% lived happily ever after.  I am just kidding.

73% of the 68% who married, took, on average,3,432 pictures at their wedding.  Most Facebookers, even relatives, looked at the first seven, commented "Very cute... pretty... handsome.. .wunnerful.. .congrats.." and then clicked to go to somewhere else.

2% of Americans get married a 4th time.  If one is asked to be the Best Man for the 4th marriage, would he really be then?

6.6% of the fitty million who tromp their way to school this year will eventually become millionaires.

Virtually 100% of folks think the almost half a million homeless folks are that due to their own accord and assume it's an end result due to poor decision making.  Nope. Oft times, it's not within their control, including loss of job from economic downturn, car troubles, medical conditions or disabilities, family neglect or abuse, or family emergencies.

Less than 2% of the population farm, provide food for all of us piggos.

This coming Saturday, Stanford will travel to Cal (Berkeley, CA) for an Atlantic Coast Conference Football game. Berkeley CA is 4 miles from the Pacific Ocean, and roughly 3,000 from the Atlantic Ocean.

Seems it never rains in southern California
Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California.

Snopes say not so. Rains, on  average 23.5 inches a year in Sunny Beach, CA.

Some joint called "FactCheck.Org" claims "Just because you read it on Facebook or somebody’s blog or in an email from a friend or relative doesn’t mean it’s true."  I call BS. I'm a virgin, I've never drank, smoked or called in sick when I actually went to the Royal's game.. nonea that stuff. Braniff, believe it. Right Wilfred?

45% of you have brown eyes, 27% blue.  Maybe FactCheck.Org is correct because there's only two of you that ever read this.

At any given time, there are around 13,000 planes in the air..  a couple hundred million cars on the road...  a kajillion snakes in the grass.. or in your pool.. or garage.. garden, or gutter.. or by that tree you pee at on the golf course.. allover, just ask FactCheck.Org. While it is possible for a snake to come up through your toilet, it is highly unlikely.  "Honey?  You can go ahead and leave the lid up, OK?"

People pee 7 to 8 times a day. 100% of women announce when they're going to pee. (MISOGYNIST). 70+ year old men pee up to 10 a day, and sometimes get up 3-4 times a night to go. BRB.

There are over 600 MILLION blogs on the internet.  Hey, they should have Blog classes offered in school.

A check engine light is a common experience.  For drivers.

The population of Liberty, MO when I moved here... or.. at least the first population sign I remember is 8,909.  Today (well, FactCheck.Org makes me explain, in 2022) the population of Liberty, MO was 30,775.  Please, former Libertyites, think nothing (personal) of the fact that 21,866 moved here after you left.

Some 70+ men pee more frequently than others. 

BRB.

Tomorrow, mebbe.

Love,  Victurd

VICTOR? NO SONG?  It never rains in California, but girl, don't they warn you, it pours, man it pours.

And there I was............

I was taken to a place
The hall of the mountain kings
I stood high by the mountain tops
Naked to the world

No, dangit, that ain't it.  Fully clothed, I'd just got off work.  Just getting off work at 71 is a tad differn't than at 17.  17 getting off work is "Mark, set, go... we're off"...  71 getting off work is nap, the want of a massage... shoes off..  that.  I'm sure, if we men wore bras, that'd go early too.

I'd gotten off work.......... Driven to one of our Parks in town. I do that, for relaxation. I sometimes enjoy 'alone'..  I park under a shade tree... let 3 of my 4 car windows down (me and cars with electric windows have a long running fued)....Sometimes the peepers do close, I zonk, and yes, a time or three I've left the car radio on..... "Tom... {or} Bill... is there any way you can gimme a jumpstart?

I have WONDERFUL recall of the Parks in our City as a kid.  Victor?  Will this take long?  I've got bacon sizzling on the stove.. the coffee's ready, I'm hungry (bored)"  I'll hurry, sorry.

Almost total recall:  90+ degree days, bike with ballglove on handlebar, grass stains, ironed on patches on knees because, well, just because.  Comeraderie, occasional "Out" "NO, SAFE", ne'er any fistacuffs...simply, wonderful, countless, fun filled hours.

And then...... ELECTRONICS HAPPENED.   Victor, is this where you lecture on "Why, back in MY day......."?  I already did, see above.  This is where we talk about changing times. Today is, "My dad told me he and his friends usedta spend all day outside in 90 degree heat playing baseball, wiffle ball, touch football, you name it, they played it. I don't get it. I much prefer Atari, the AC set on 70, and a cupboard fulla Ho Ho's and Twinkies.  Besides that........ listen..  shhhhhhhhh...  there ain't no adults near us down here in the rec room. Is life good or what?"

Back to the park. Shelter houses..  oh, you'll see an occasional throng of snotnoses devouring cake and ice cream for Johnny's Birthday...  tykes tromping around the slides and the swings... there was a small skateboard place where every once in awhile one would come, practice a Backside Ollie... .as a whole.. the tennis courts and ballfield sit empty. I dunno, maybe since Y2K or so. The times they done changed.

OK, under the shade tree. I was almost to the point of nodding off, only to probably awaken ten minutes later to "wherethehell am I"..  and I hear a couple twerps (said lovingly) ride up on their bikes.  Jimmy?  You got the ball?   Yep, Liam's bringing the bat.. and Ethan has the four bases.  Say it ain't so, a genuine, bonified, pickup baseball game? 

Thanks for the ride mom, we know, we know, Spaghetti at 7, we'll be home by then. It's the Smiths'! YIPEE!  It was kinda surreal.  Like Field of Dreams with no corn.  One by one, sometimes two, they came....  Sing it baby, "There was long ones, tall ones, short ones, brown ones, Black ones, round ones, big deal ones... Prolly  20 or so of 'em.  It was a Wiffle Ball Flash Mob.  I don't smoke pot. I don't care if you do, I'd even prefer my own son to smoke pot (if he's gotta do some vice) rather than drink liquor...  Where are you going with this Victor?  THIS, little kids gathering, excited about a pickup game, THAT, a Wiffle Ball Flash Mob, that gets me high.

I was parked (perked) and listened, watched for maybe 45 minutes or so.  They got along, didn't really argue, "You're the commissioner, we'll go with however you see it." They ran, slid, sweated, laughed, high fived, fist bumped... you couldn't tell who was ahead or behind.. it was genuinely 1960-something, fast forwarded to today. Most importantly, they enjoyed.

Color me happy.

Then, today........ I open the paper.  Victor, you don't get paper any longer, you do the E thingy.  Oh yeah, thanks.  So, I clicked the link.  A story about.......... (RIGHT HERE IN RIVER CITY)...... 

"ROYALS STAR JOINS WIFFLE BALL GAME"

Nuh uh.  Uh huh, did.  Apparently, with an off day, Salvadore Perez, the oldest player our our team, a beloved, always gotta smile on his face, happy dude... he'd driven thru a neighborhood in Kansas City, Kansas (Yes outtatowners, there's one'a each, KC, MO and KC, KS).. Saw ten kids playing Wiffle ball.  Stop, parked,  joined  in.

"Hey guys, can I play?"    Guys, that's Salvy!  One kiddo dialed up his dad to tell him..  another ran inside and announced to all within earshot "SALVY FREAKING PEREZ IS IN OUR BACKYARD!"

After a few innings, Salvy himself organized a group picture... and then he was off..  Amazing (to me anyways).....

I'll never grow up (Sorry, kinda, not really)..  I ain't real sure if Salvy will either (I view that a good thing.)

The way I see it...  what better than keeling with the body of a real old fart and the brain, outlook, love, and the zest for life of a ten year old.

I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back. (To everything, urn, urn, urn)

Spill the wine baby... oh, they do it in that one church..  why not have a quick glass.

Love, Victurd

That and this.......

It's  August 23rd, which, of course is the.............. (hang on)... 236th day of the year.  236 happened to be my lottery number in the draft back in dinosaur days (Victor, who asked?)

This is a Leap Year so of course you knew there are 366 days in a Leap Year...  didn't you?  Me neither.  And of course this means it's only 130 days until you stay up until Midnight (9:30pm if you're lucky), pop the cork, welcome in 2025.

Which means, 124 shopping days until Christmas. (Size fat, anything, Modelo Negra,favorite beer).  

So............. is this where you bore us and tell us who was born on this day?  

Uh huh.   Kobe. Seth (the 'other') Curry.  Rick Springfield (he's 74, feeling old?).  Barbara Eden (92, feeling older?) Actually, "Jeannie" was already 2,000 years old when Major Healey rubbed the bottle she was in.  Side note, I bet you forgot when his one-man space capsule came down far, far from where it was sposeta, he rubbed her bottle, she popped out of it.. smooched him on the lips.. communication was poor.. kinda unner his breath he said  "I wish you could speak English..  she blinked.. allofasudden she could.. he wanted to get back home..  she blinked.. . a helicopter appeared outta nowhere..  Major Healey/she, said goodbyes.. he told her "Now  you're free"..  but... she'd fallen in love.. went back in the bottle.. purposely rolled herself in his duffle bag.. and they lived happily ever after, until that is, someone shot JR.

Victor, are you done 'playing' with us?

No.  Who could forget (I did), on this day in the year 2,000, the very first season of Survivor ended (Richard Hatch, remember him? No. Me neither) and of course reality TV was born.

I'm quite sure you remember, 77 years ago today they crowned the very first Little League World Series champion.  MISOGYNIST VICTOR, talk 'girls' to us, not that.  To date, 20 girls have played in the LLWS.  Hey, that first one?  Were there teams from every state? No. They all were from Pennsylvania except one (NJ).  Fittingly, the Maynard Midgets won the first year. Game caught fire though, tweren't but a few years, teams from all 48 States.  Victor........ there are 50 States.  Ahm, there wasn't back in 1947 correctionbreath, tweren't till fitty-nine were them two added.

1933, first eva' televised boxing match, London, England.  Any girls? Nope, that would be much (much) later, sorry.

Is this where you play that stupid game and tell us the hottest and coldest places on Earth right now?

Najaf, Iraq 117 degrees..  Amundsen-Scott, Antarctica minus, that's MINUS 63 degrees. So Victor, exactly how far is it between those two places? No one knows, well, at least Google Maps doesn't. I got tired trying to find that distance.  

98 years ago, The Latin Lover, silent film star Rudolph Valentino died at the age of 31, causing mass hysteria with his fans.

Where'd you live a year ago?  Five years?  Ten?  Twenty?  Forty?  Fitty? Sixty-three? Ahm, Liberty, Liberty, Liberty, Liberty, Liberty, Liberty, St. Charles, MO.  YOU?

35 years ago, Pete Rose bet, got the boot. 14 years ago Elin Nordegren gave Tiger Woods the boot after 6 yrs of marriage.

Where does time go?  It marches on Victor. 

Fitty-two (or three) years ago... Jimmy Hack (friend, sometimes blog reader) was shooting hoops in his driveway in Clinton County MO in preparation for "THE SHOT" that lifted the Plattsuburg Tigers over....... over........ I forgot Jimmy, helps me out....

Forty-five (or so) years ago..   Terri Watson (friend, usedta be a blog reader until my computer malfunctioned and wiped out my friend list) was shooting hoops in her driveway in Kearney MO in preparation for "THE SHOT" that help lift the William Jewell Cardinals over the Tarkio Owls in the Women's Missouri Small College State Championship.

Victor.  Go back to bed.

On this day in History, Victor went back to bed.

What's your vector Victor?  Bed.

Heard you gotta weak back.  When'd you get it?

'Bouta week back.

Bed Victor.

Paul Harvey, Good day.

Were Paul Harvey still here, he'd be just shy of 106 years of age.

NOW you know, The Rest of The Story.

VICTOR!!!!! WAIT!!!!!!!!!!!!   Huh?  NO MUSIC????????

Take You Back. Do do do do, take you back. (There, done did.)

Love, Victurd

You got a bloody right to say.........

Quarrel... spat... tiff... dispute... wrangle..  argue......

Remember that feeling of utter and COMPLETE exhaustion upon completion of that marathon we ran?  Me neither. 

Remember back in the day when you would blow up a balloon... pinch the end so air wouldn't escape... you'd finally let it go... it would boot scoot Tom Terrific-like with all kindsa energy, passion - this way, that way... only to finally deflate...  silently sneak to the ground.  I do remember that one.

So you think your schooling is phoney

I guess it's hard not to agree
You say, "It all depends on money
And who is in your family tree"

Right (right), you're bloody well right
You got a bloody right to say
Right, you're bloody well right
You know, you got a right to say

I love listening to songs for years, not really trying to unnerstand the lyrics, song meaning - moreso, simply to get my toe tapping, my mouth singing the (undoubtedly wrong) lyrics.

(Hang on a sec... taking fork in road the udder way, back in a sec. Had a little gal hired where I work, checking golfers in, selling them an occasional beer or two..  gal is 18. We'd discussed liquor and I told her "I think you gotta be 19 to handle alcohol". She was quick to reply, "I think it's 18 but, I'll look it up."  Insteada "Mom, will you drive me 7 blocks to the library to I can go find the right Encyclopedia Britannica to, figure out how old ya gotta be to handle alcohol in Missouri", now I can do it in a millisec on my flip phone. (Don't tell.)  18 yr old was correct. (Don't tell that either, I hate being wrong.)  Victor, hate is a strong word.  Uh huh.  I hate being wrong or proven wrong.)

OK,..  what I was gonna say, is nowadays, as you listen to a good song, tap your foot, punch the Shazam app on your phone so you can figure out who it is, the namea the song, yada... then, you can Google (or Bing, Yahoo, yada.. I like Google) song meaning.

WHOOP, there it is.  "This song deals with youthful confusion, class welfare, and forced conformity in schools."  Thanks, I needed that, but, I too believe it's kinda about arguing.  

Ha, ha, you're bloody well right

You know, you're right to say
Yeah, yeah, you're bloody well right
You know, you're right to say
And me, I don't care anyway

Write your problems down in detail
And take 'em to a higher place
You've had your cry, no, I shouldn't say wail
In the meantime hush your face

Victor, you remind me of Yogi Berra and his quote "When you come to the fork in the road, take it."  The hell you going with this? (Blog reader, you're right, but, standby one, let 'em finish the song.)

Right (quite right), you're bloody well right
You got a bloody right to say
Right, you're bloody well right
You know, you got a right to say

Ha, ha, you're bloody well right
You know, you're right to say
Yeah, yeah, you're bloody well right
You know, you got a right to say

You got a bloody right to say

You got a bloody right to say

You got a bloody right to say

You got a bloody right to say, yeah

TMI CLOSE YOUR EARS DON'T TELL I DON'T REPEAT GOSSIP SO LISTEN CLOSE THE FIRST TIME.

It's been nearly 20 years since I was married.  Yesterday, I/we, had an argument over the local school district's 482 question online enrollment process for a loved one.  I jest, it was really only 481 questions. It literally took hours.

We sparred.  We blurted.  We let go'a words we hadn't oughta let go of. In my mind, I 'pedastal'ed' myself, ran up the same stairs in Philly that Rocky did... She, I'm sure, silently said, felt things like "HA! Not this time Bubba!!"

It was like LumberJack (and LumberJill) each, bearing a big ole Stihl chain saw in attempt to be the first to fell a sequoia tree.  It was Tom/Jerry, Popeye/Bluto, HeMan/Skeletor, Bugs/Elmer, Roadrunner/Wile E. Coyote. (MU/KU, .Chiefs/Raiders, Yankees/RedSox, Packers/Vikings) That.

Victor, TMI.  (I just passed gas as I ran by you up them stairs in Philly... sorry, not really)

And in the end.

Right (quite right), you're bloody well right
You got a bloody right to say
Right, you're bloody well right
You know, you got a right to say

She was right. I was right. Kid enrolled. It's only right. Battles, thankfully, fewer and further between over the years. Love means sometimes having to say you're sorry.  Sorry. Kinda.

You stupid idiot Victor, how DARE you share/show your dirty laundry,

I loved goin' to Grannys back in the day.  Them sheets we slept on at night were hung out on the clothesline earlier all day.  Yum.

Have a smiley day!

Love, Victurd

A stitch in time........

Once again............ Pong (balls, bouncing off walls).......  Microwave (waves, bouncing internally)...  Ideas (bouncing off, around brain.)

Whadda you wanna do, talk about?

I dunno... whadda you wanna do, talk about?

The other day...... had finished playing golf (poorly again) and walked to the back deck for 'war stories', camaraderie.  Table'a ladies already there... as I walked by, one hollered, "Victor, you gotta big hole in your jeans and your undies are showing."  That be true. Knew I had'a hole, but twasn't sure how big it was. Straight to men's room, glance in the mirror.  yep, perty big.

As we think about life.....  there's much we weave.  Roles we play.  People we play with.  Go see.  Have to's occasionally thrown in.  Duties here, recreation there, likes, hobbies, naps, we are all unique, just like one another.

The stitching is all the (scary) ideas that bounce thru one's brain.  The Big L (one of two or three of you blog readers) suggested (after a blog on 'Anticipation') "Speaking of Carly Simon, Vic... have you ever had a woman start singing 'Nobody does it better..' after you (you know.)?  Me neither.  There's your next blog.  You're welcome."  Ahm, no.  Quoting my stepson, "Not no's, but hells no's."

The stich in time saves 9 originated over 300 years ago.. it IS a sewing reference... and one stitch (done in timely fashion) will save you 9 later.  Too late for my jean shorts.. They're in the trash.

All.  All of life.  Pong. Microwave. Thoughts. Ideas. This. That.  Baseball Ray.

Huh?

Yep, they're woven, stitched. Hand stitched. The leather is tanned in Tennessee from hides that are processed in Pennsylvania. (2.4 million balls a year, from 20,000 hides). Turrialba, Costa Rica.  Leather shipped there.  Cork sphere cased in rubber, latex adhesive. Spun with yarn (secret as to how, which way, how many times). Sewn by hand, precise color of stitches, secret..  Yep. 108 stitches, each. Then shipped back to USA, somewhere near the Delaware River (where they get the mud they rub on it, and 'the where' is a secret.)  Soon, Play Ball.

Families.  Stitched.  Visited St. Thomas  once.  Land, hard to come by, expensive if there is some.  Mama and papa have baby.  Baby grows, marries, has own baby.  Nope, no 3BR home on a Cul-de-sac, instead, build on toppa mom/dad's place.  "That one", the grand kid, grows, marries, has kiddo of his/her own, huh nuh, no apartment complex... '3rd story' happens above granny/gramps, mama/papa... and so on and so forth.  Victor I'm lost in how to follow your brain here...  Shoot,  ya oughta try driving in St. Thomas then... whilst it IS a USA joint (representation in Congress but me don't thinks they can vote for Pres), the suckers drive on the lefthand sidea the road.

Naturally then......like Winter Spring Summer and Fall are woven...  snotnoses/mom-dad/granny-gramps too (it takes a village to weave a termite).. jobs/buy crap hand in hand, the baseballs we already visited about.  Woven.  Life is woven, spun.  Like a web.  Some weave long time, some, not so long.  Retire/golf/buy scratch off tickets/complain about bursitis, youth of today.

Take my buddy's Northtowne Auto Group for example.  They're the Alice's Restaurant of the Auto World.  I'm talkin' Alfa Romeo, Fiat, Lincoln, Mistubishi, Mazda, VW, Hyundai.  L&L to all that, proud I am of him.

Then there's Hamilton.  Victor?  The play?

No, the town, in NW Missouri. It's the Quilting Capital of the World.  HEY!  Ain't that where JC Penney is from?  Uh huh, is. Small world ain't it. Woven together.  Missouri Star Quilt Company:

A dream turned into reality in 2008 by 'SEW-lebrity' Jenny Doan. Her hubby worked for the KC Star... an hour and a half commute to the Big City... Hamilton, then, like many small towns, employment was scarce.  Shrink was more common than grow. Newspaper industry shrinking too, coupled with Stock Market crash in '08, "Uh oh" was the theme, "we gotta figure out sumpin' for retirement."  Jenny, her two children, started Missouri Star Quilt Company on a shoestring budget. At first, they sold long arm quilting services and a few supplies. Nope, not cuttin' mustard.

Jenny started posting "How to" vids on Youtube. Tweren't long before they went viral - became THE top quilting Youtube channel...  Son and a buddy, delved into growing the online stuff, financials, mom and daughter Sarah ran the quilt end of things..  VIRAL happened.. followed by:

" It has grown into a $20,000,000 per year business that owns 26 buildings in Hamilton and is part owner of three restaurants. The business brings as many as 8,000 quilters to Hamilton in a month. Incredible!"  HOLY QUILTING FRAME GUACAMOLE!

That's life, if we're Frank about it. Sorry. Kinda. We are a diverse lot.

We fine dine, casual dine, buffet dine, fast food drive thru, can'a Raviolio's, frozen lasagna in micro... that.  The bum gets the last bite'a a buritto outta the dumpster. Cheerio mate.

We talk funny, twangy, hicky, we warsh our clothes, we bless your pee-pickin' heart, in Hoboken they pee in the turlet, whassup Ol' G?, and my Outlaw SIL announces when she's got to "go pee pee in the pot-tey."

No, this hasn't made sense to me either so I'd better scram.  Sorry.  Or mebbe, if we've played Pong, zapped a bagga popcorn, been on a text chain where one guy always texts at 3:30am, maybe this all makes perfect sense.

Tomorrow is the 3rd Wednesday.  Some of you may be old like me.  This means, 'the (SS) check's in the mail' (actually direct deposit (tomorrow.)

Meantime, I't gonna fetch them jeans with the hole in the butt outta the trash, add a stitch or nine. Don't wanna go to the laundromat today. Too many weirdos like me.

Difference, in a world of harmony, or, sumpin like that.  Right Donald? Kamala?

Love, Victurd

That Bridge on 59th Street.....

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feeling groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feeling groovy

Life, to me anyways, is kinda like an online video.... ya click that little arrow... and it goes, and goes and goes. You can stop the video - but ya can't make it any longer.  Kinda like life.  Grandkids.  Seems like yesterday, before they could deftly tackle stairs, they'd slide down on their butt... not spill a drop from their sippy cup, giveya a yummy hug, then, find their spot on the front row of the carpet for Dora.

Now... they go to class.  Switch teachers every hour. Text/email their bf/gf's.. NUH UH~~!  Uh huh.  Sure, one can go back and watch that vid of 'em buttsliding down the stairs - butt, life moves swiftly. Just ask Kelce.  Speakinowhich, did anyone else notice his "slow down you move too fast" newly died hair and mustache? Relax Trav, you're a pup.

You just fretted for a couple of years over Social Security (when? 62?  65? 66? 70?), Medicare A, B, D, N, K, Advantage (HELP, I NEED SOMEBODY) and now, when you see similar aged 'whippersnappers' worry, fret..... a yawn comes to mind.

Slow down, you move too fast... you've got to make all this crap last.

Hello lamppost, what'cha knowing
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't cha got no rhymes for me?
Doo-it in doo doo, feeling groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feeling groovy

Now you're talking.  Sit, watch flowers grow.  Paint dry.  Were you aware.... let's see, 365 divided by 7 = fitty-two..  you can sit and watch a hound pooch for fitty-two days and see a 'year' of his/her life. Now you're barking up my tree.

I got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life I love you, all is groovy

Life is, can be, like a crotch rocket on Interstate.  You seen 'em. I've seen 'em.  I'd never wish ill will or spill, but, wouldn't bug me (sorry) if they swallered a june bug maybe even a cicada...

Deeds.  "Have to's" at our age, are now "Get to's."  As in, we're lucky.  Promises?  My take,  at our age, ain't no need to promise.  If there is doubt in our character, it's our own fault.

Dappled. I looked that crap up.  'Marked with spots or rounded patches."  Uh huh.  We get thin skinned.  Physically that is.  I AM NOT GRUMPY.  Drowsy, sure... but if we nap too  much, we'll awaken to another song "Where have all the flowers gone?" And that brings us back to the message here. Life, fleeting.  Jet plane.  Crotch rocket.  Crazy how quickly life moves from Huggies, training wheels, walkers, tennis balls.  Victor, don't say Depends.  Ok, won't.

So, your majesty the blog writer, is this where you summarize alla the above and then give us 'structions on how to live from this day forward?  Ahm.... no.   OK, maybe.

Grab some popcorn.  Put on a 33 (not a 45 or a 78/crotch rocket).  Have a cat, dog or grand on your lap.  Try to set the world record for 'smiles given' in an hour (I think it's 4,763). Compliment. Hold a hand. Don't hold in a fart, they're natural, we all do do it.  Laugh.

Water the flowers, but not too much.  Might grow too fast and wither.

Think.  Think about someone you really respect, and the 'why's.  Then, emulate them 'why's.

Before you go to bed tonight.............. GET UR BUTT OUTDOORS AND LOOK AT THE BLUE MOON~!

We only get so many. Life I love you, all is groovy

Victor, you already did a blog on this song once.  Resist the urge to 'blurt back'. Tain't worth it.

Love, Victurd