Take you back............

You can't always get what you want.........

Tired of waiting for you........

Welcome to the Hotel California........... you can check out any time you like but you can never leave......

Clowns to the left............ Jokers to the right.......... Stuck in the middle.........

They say......... WHO Victor, who say?  They say, you can't go back.  Ya don't get 'do overs'.  A card laid is a card played.   Wait for it. Sorry Meatloaf.. now if you could, Walk This Way down the aisle. We spend a crazy time in life, simply waiting.

I call............   bullsh*t.  Victor, please don't cuss.

Bullsh*t Bullsh*t Bullsh*t Bullsh*t.

Second chance?  Dream on...

Bullsh*t Bullsh*t Bullsh*t Bullsh*t.

I do agree on do-vers...  Regrets... Woulda shoulda coulda.

But.............. I watched 'Footie"............  Futbol.............. GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL......

Futbol gots STOPPAGE TIME.

I never figured out howinthehell (oops, cussed again, sorry, not really, take this blog and shove it)....how they compute stoppage time. Something about 'minor delays and substitutions' there is added time at the end of regulation.

For 47 to salvage his career, reputation, mebbe he could strike a deal to get us all, payback.  Stoppage time.  Time for ALL that time we wasted in life.

Welcome to the DMV, please take this number (42) we'll text you when you're next.  OK, got it. One, large topping, thin crust - it'll be ready in 22 minutes.

"DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?"  Yessir, I do, if you'll notice, there's 103 others in line awaiting being rebooked on the next flight to Cedar Rapids too, so...if you'd be so kind to rapidly return to the backa the line until it's your time.

Construction zone......... Speed limit Fitty.  Damnit, wreck ahead, we're completely stopped, gonna be late to the kid's game, concert, our dinner reservation, your moms, the party, dance, church, weaving class.  BRB, closing that pop-up.

Welcome to Mom and Pops Diner, how many please?  Four. Last name?  Starving.  Thanks, it's gonna be twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

AOL, GOOD. GOSH. GERTY. I'm SO glad we're past that.

Hurry up and wait.

Thanks for calling The Department Of Social Security.  Your anticipated wait is one hour and twelve minutes............. we hope you make it (HA HA HA HA!)..........

Bullsh*t Bullsh*t Bullsh*t Bullsh*t........ , I call............   bullsh*t.  Victor, please don't cuss.

The Golden Years....... We should get paid back for all that dadgum time we waisted, a waiting.

"HONEY?  LET'S GO... We're gonna be late to the Party"........... "Five minutes.. I'll be ready in five minutes."  I knew I shoulda played the back nine.

 

Sir, we watched you walk in... we're very aware and sympathetic of your hip pain, and we've scheduled your hip replacement as is fast as humanly possible, April 7th, 2027.  Here's a script for some pain pills in the meantime.

 

Flat tire.  DAMNIT, coffee allover my pants, I gotta change.  Yes, yes you do Victor, don't cuss and get some new slacks on.

 

Now batting, DAGOBERTO CAMPANERIS....... Damnit, rain.  Tarps coming out.  Hell, Toma's gotta be what? 103 by now? Guess we could grab one'a them $17 beers.

 

If, I'm laying here, worried about getting to work on time, awaiting my alarm to go off... WHY CAN'T I GET TO SLEEP?

 

I want that time back.  I'm 73. I figure I've wasted 19 or so years waiting. That's it. I'm going on vacation. NOW.  

 

Ahm, Victor?  Yeah? Your next Social Security check don't come until the third Wednesday, September 16.  Cedar Rapids will still be there once your check is deposited.

 

I call.......... WE KNOW, WE KNOW WHAT YOU CALL.

 

Too bad, so sad, you'll just haveta wait like all the others. 

 

Let's go to the movie instead.  Hi and welcome to B&B.  Two tickets, a popcorn and two cokes.. .ahm, we'll have  a fresh batch ready in 3 minutes..... WHEN is the movie gonna start?  Victor, they ALWAYS show trailers,  previews, and yes, some ads tossed in.

 

I call.......... WE KNOW..

 

BAND CAMP. LONG AGO. (1970-something.. I could still run, jump, hop.) Wet behind the ears Gate Agent for United Airlines, Kansas City.  My role on that day, feller in a wheelchair awaiting a flight to Des Moines.  He was cranky to begin with, probably 73, had wasted, oh, probably 19 or so years of his life waiting.  Problem was, snow and ice. Both IN Kansas City... as well as Des Moines.  Five, five flights to Des Moines.  One by one, I rolled him, his chair to the Gate for the Next Des Moines trip.... one by one, canceled due to weather.  We got way past the 'smalltalk' point. One last flight of the day to Des Moines. It was a United Express flight... at the very end of the terminal. Rolls we did. After getting him aligned near the door to board...  voice comes on the speaker thingy.. 
"Ladies and gentleman, I'm very sorry to announce... due to the Weather conditions in Des Moines, the airport has closed for the day."................................................

 

Not ten seconds after that announcement, 73 year old grumpy guy turned his head toward me, said, eye to eye, "I KNEW I shoulda flown Delta."

 

Yeah, Delta prolly didn't haveta deal with the snow. 

 

Contrary to FIFA, Pele, Messi, The English Premiere League, we don't get no extra (Stoppage) time in life.

 

Deal wit' it.

 

I call............   bullsh*t.  Victor, please don't cuss.

 

Very quick one.........

Age..........

Emotions.... as in, showing, allowing them to surface...

My father, he of the greatest generation, adhered to the constraints "men don't show emotion."  It was there, always, for he and others..

It took 70+ years, affliction (Parkinson's), life, all added up - before he ever did.  While I very much disliked the health invader. I looked at his added up years, coupled with tears, as a blessing.

By golly, it was in there all the time.

And you?

I, we, are blessed by the 'rings of the tree' we add each year.

I dunno about you - but the clamp on the hydrant of emotion has been very much loosened by the years, past events, love, 'video compilation' of all things, people, past. 

I'll be looking at a photo album... watching a movie that sparks recreation of an era... listening to a song that usedta make me wanna beep and bop - now, become a silent, emotional mess (in a good way)....

I suppose - if we're gonna take the time to snooze, refresh, regenerate, plant the toes on the ground, raise, rinse, renew - we might as well emote too. 

If that's not your thing - I am way cool with that.  Not prescribing, preaching, trying to alter... just here to say, I don't mind 'tearing up' in the least.  In fact, I appreciate it. It ain't forced, I can't hit a lever and it happens, it simply happens - controlled by whatever it is in the brain that relates "Victor, you're lucky to have lived this, appreciated that and the fact it means a lot to you."

If we are here to ingest the entire ball of life's wax (good, bad, indifferent) feel is ok, appreciated - and certainly not confined to the closet.

Tony? F'real?

I decided some time ago, to go on a 73 year scavenger hunt for happiness.  I've noticed, damn daddy, it (can) get tougher year by year.

Ya know damn well, your morning ain't gonna start by spindling and playing that 45 record, Chicken Fat.  Hells to the no's, huh uh.

Ya gots........... one eye on your bankroll.... and, de udder on the going life expectancy stats.  So, you look in the mirror and see Marty Feldman. SEE?  Damn daddy it's hard. 

Gray skies are gonna clear up,
Put on a happy face;
Brush off the clouds and cheer up,
Put on a happy face.

 

Like, I KNOW I KNOW. But, like anything nowadays, howinthehelp are we sposeta know what's real and what ain't?  Old MacDonald wrote an article, AI AI ohhh.  And in the article he quoted somes dudes, AI AI ohhh...  with no author name here and no author name there, here a quote there a quote everywhere a quote quote - but whointhehelp is quoting?

Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!

 

Ya can't believe a THING. Take yesterday for example.  Traditionally, the Saturday closest to August 26 is known as Go Topless Day.  Ha, I hardly paid attention. (Set my alarm for 45 minutes before dawn, showered, ate, strapped my 350 lb test lawn chair to my geezer scooter, and, was on the Square of our smalltown by sun up.  12 hours I sat there, and i didn't even see as much as a Buick La Sabre convertible!

Pick out a pleasant outlook,
Stick out that noble chin;
Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,
Slap on a happy grin!

 

So.... Today is National Cheap Flight day....... Ya think I'm gonna get up and drive to the airport?  Fool me once, but, i ain't no boob.

And spread sunshine all over the place,
Just put on a happy face!
Put on a happy face
Put on a happy face

 

Psychology Today, or Reddit, onea them "Relax,  you ain't going crazy" sites, suggests, force  yourself to say three positives a day.  Ahm, OK. I'll try. To that lady in the silver SUV, the one who was wearing black eyeliner, purplish eyeshadow, who was downing that Starbucks iced expresso (name Donna on the cup). license ⅃Ꭾ7-Sꓞᔭ and tailgated me very close (thus, the eyeliner/eyeshadow/Starbucks comment,backwards plate info) for 7 miles to WallyWorld yesterday... where do you get your brakes done?  (Positive) for surely they must give you a discount for the frequency with how fast they wear out?  Good enough Psycho Today?

And if you're feeling cross and bitterish
Don't sit and whine
Think of banana split and licorice
And you'll feel fine

 

I'm like.... I needta change the headlight on the driver's side of my 2002 Buick Century. So, I pose the question online.  In roughly 7 comments, a guy from Philly is gonna fly to Sacramento to beatup the dude who'd said "NO NO NO, you moron, NOT like that." Tony Bennett.. MUST YOU CONTINUE?

I knew a girl so gloomy
She'd never laugh or sing
She wouldn't listen to me
Now she's a mean old thing

 

NOT MY LINE. I AM NOT a misogynist. ARE TO. AM NOT.  Crap, I never even made it to a 2nd positive statement.

So spread sunshine all over the place
And put on a happy, happy face
Put on a happy, happy, happy face
Oh, come on bubby, smile its your birthday 

 

Of course,  done with tongue in cheek - but I ain't sure if you're looking online where I look... or... listening in public to 'cordial' conversations..  watching the 'this side' News and 'that side' news...

 

Nicety.  Kindness. The Golden Rule. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddle masses breathing to be free.  All, seemingly out the window.  Who let the good out, woof woof woof woof....

 

I jest. Some.  It just seems its getting harder and harder for us to all get along.  Shouldn't be. We, are at fault.  Shouldn't be.

 

ABC, easy as 1, 2, 3.. IF, you can get past one.

 

Love, Victurd 

Clap........

At exactly 9am Central today (you, perty please, check your time zone for safe measure) we are all, supposed to clap. once, and only once.  EVERYONE.. The entire World. No matter the language, lacation, whatever wherever, clap. Once.

"Organizers describe it as deliberately non-political and non-religious: one simple action that does not require a shared language, membership or particular belief."

 The centralized idea is to clap just once, but, groups can continue into applause, but, the synchronized single clap is the minimum desire.

Andrea Bechis, a Turin-born entrepreneur who lives in London, founded the project after wondering what would happen if the whole world applauded at once.  Simply due to online (and offline) tension - it's not meant to solve our problems - but, an experiment to see if a small, shared act can still cut across geography, culture and algorithms that usually divide attention. 

If someone is out in the forest and they clap............ will anyone hear it?

In living rooms similar to Archie and Edith across the land....... if clap happens, will 'she' instinctively get up and get him more coffee?  MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT!  ARE TOO! 

If by chance you're in WallyWorld.......... near, say, the toy department....Clap happens...will 23 My Little Puppy plush toys propelled via that clap sound simultaneously do a backflip, ARRFF, raise their paw?

Are airline galley carts soundproofed, or, could you hear a clap from within? (Do they sanitize them after each use?  WHAT does that have to do with a clap?  Nuttin, just curious)

If you happened to be aboard a heap big airplane, rumor afloat "assassination and missile threat possible", would you clap at 9am? I think my stepson would say "Not no's but hells no's".......

What if you oversleep?  Clap anyway? 

Clap if, you're at church?  Watching a guy on a tightrope? Your opponent is shooting a free throw?  RFK Jr's nurse is just about to inoculate him?

If, you clap early, would that be PE..or... PC?

If, this clap, coincided with a solar eclipse, ya think anyone would miss?

Could you get a ticket for distracted driving if you clapped? 

Short blog.

You're welcome.

No applause......... please.

Love, Victurd 

Happy Trails............ to you..............

AI.

 

That's fancy for Ain'tgotany Idea what to write about...  somewhere amidst the ball of confusion, the dull, very dull, grey, medulla oblongata matter of the gourd, I thought I heard 'Trail' amongst the electromagnetic waves.

 

So, I Googled "Songs about trails".  Good gosh Gertie, there's tons of 'em.  Take me home, country road...... and the Everready 90-something lovable dude, Willie.. On the Road again....... The Long and Winding Road......

 

When you think about it....... trails, paths, highways, byways, Interstates, roads.. ("Roads?  Where we're going we don't need any roads.") Sure Doc, right you are, but, you and Marty got special effects - we on Earth, we got roads, paths... when you think about it... roads, paths HIGHLY IMPORTANT in our lives.. 

 

Lewis and Clark 'cut em'.. (Blazed 'em)..   many followed... Horace encouraged them... all the while Jesse James, Billy the Kid,. Butch Cassidy, even Bell Starr waited by the trails as they were among the first to declare, "I don't wanna work, but I'd like your money perty please" (accompanied by a CLICK)........

 

Army brats, hitchhikers, carnies - ne'er ones to hang their hats anywhere a long time.  (Add to that nowadays, college athletes. Hangnail, "Coach looked at me funny", "Have you seen how cool their uni's are?".."Dad said I really should be the starter.".. "Really, you'll pay me $2,000 more? I'm gone.")

 

Bruce was Born to Run.....  Some, roll outta the womb, like the room, the vibe, the people, place yada - and never step a lick on a path unless its for vacation, or, they're like me and the only irregular path is to Sams where we spend a hunnerd dollars a year to join to save $2 every three months on a big ole jug of Folgers coffee.  Country bumpkins, or simpletons, sumpin, they call us.

 

Dorothy followed her Yellow Brick Road..... Elton, rejecting the false glamour, high society excess, and immense pressure of fame, said "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" in 1970-something. He done got lost though and kept a movin'. Now, I see at age 79 he's on the Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour.  Can't blame him. 

 

Life is a Highway.  Walk this way.  Travelin' man.   Whilst Canned Heat was'a Goin' Up the Country, Garmin was busy planning to help Dionne Warwick find her way to San Jose.

 

Ray, and many of us poor poor pitiful me men have been told "Hit The Road Jack, and don't ya come back no more no more no more no more."  MISOGYNIST! YOU EARNED IT!  Eh mebbe. Sure, it's a two way street.  After, ya drive, ride, walk the same paths... somehow, it's differ'nt.

 

While good ole Johnny was a movin', singin', praising the fact "I've been everywhere, man... I've been everywhere.." and then he named off 91 places (I was bored, I counted 'em, don't believe me? Try it yourself).. Johnny prolly had matchbook covers to remind him, meanwhile America done been thru the Desert on a horse and, they didn't even know his name.

 

A blonde might tell Seger to "Turn around an go THE OTHER WAY" as he sang Against The Wind.  MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT!  ARE TOO!

 

Fleetwood sang Go Your Own Way but, from what I read they might notta known which specific person or couple at the time they was talkin' to.

 

John Denver wanted the Country Roads to take him home... then, he was a Leavin' on A Jet Plane...... coulda been a Rocky Mountain High, I dunno.

 

Lou Reed was'a wantin to sing Walk On the Wild Side again, but his manager advised he might wait awhile until like the elections are over, and, the WNBA gets this all figured out.

 

Sorry.......... I kinda got off the beaten path.  I really wanted to write about how crucial paths were, are in our lives.  One turn can change a life.  Make a life.  Ya ever sit and wonder "if I hadn't met he, her".. .what I'da done, how would it'a been... if I didn't rent that house... buy that property... pulled over when I did.. how differernt thing mighta been.

 

I love the eternal optimism of someone like Buck O'Neill. "I was right on time."  Good gosh what a happy path he made when the goin' got ugly sometimes. He smiled throughout.  A lesson for us all.

 

OK, time to move along.   Take it Easy.  Might ride the storm out.  Might go into the mystic.  Homeward Bound.  One of my favorite things is a pool with a lazy river.  A path to nowhere so to speak. Kinda gives ya that Peaceful Easy Feeling.

 

Hit the Road Victurd.

 

OK! OK! 

I WANT MY MOMMY!

To borrow a phrase by Rhett, "Frankly my Dear, I don't give a damn." I am not the least bit ashamed, man-shamed, whadever, to admit I had a wonderful, WONDERFUL relationship with my Mother.

No Elvis, I've never shot a rabbit, wouldn't eat the damn stew if I did.... I do pee standing up... Forgive me Father, I did have the tendency to  arm tackle in High School Football, but.. damnit Jim, I've sold shoes AND I played high school football!

When I think of someone who always has all the answers, i think of a very sad, lost soul.

Well Stan, here's another fine mess you've gotten me into.   The dog catcher just drove up the block. WHO LET THE DOGS OUT? (the obligatory woof, woof, woof woof.)

Sometimes, I find anyways, it's just impossible to think on your feet (or, your butt... or, stomach, side, laying down, whadever.)  

Let me think on it............. right Meatloaf?

Look what they done to my (Blog) ma.... 

look what they done to my (blog)...

Well, it's the only thing I could do half right (I know, debatable)

And it's turning out all wrong, ma...

 

Nah...  I'm really OK.  In fact, to me, it's kinda comforting to recall great parental love.... and... a wonderful reminder on "I DON'T know it all when it comes to being a friend, partner, parent, coworker, boss, teammate, coach, any life curveball, knuckler.. yada...    

 

Sometimes, ya just get flumoxxed.

 

Victor?  You been talkin' to Moffitt again?  FLUMOXXED?

 

I know, I had to look it up too.  Was reading the Sport's page this morning.  It was the 50th reunion of a local KC high school basketball team winning the large Class State Championship.  Two schools... the KC one... and the St. Louis one.. First time EVER two undefeateds reached the Championship game...  the St Louis one was supposed to win.  Brimming with D1 recruits.. ranked 7th in the Nation.... 

 

After the KC team fought back, eventually won... the flummoxed St. Louis coach said "I guess if we were number one, they were something better."

 

Google lent me "Flummoxed...  being so confused, bewildered, or puzzled, not knowing what to do,say or think."

 

I call it an "I WANT MY MOMMY" moment.  

 

I very much hope you were blessed with some type of role model (mom, dad, step, aunt, uncle, grandma, grandpa, teacher, coach, preacher, BFF, whadever) that you find/found comfort when ya just ain't/wasn't sure just which way to turn............. and you remember your 'compass'.

 

Love, Victurd 

  

Climb up the palm tree........

Slide down the cactus

We play your team just for practice!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

I spent the final hour of the day yesterday on Youtube...  That really ain't got squat to do with "palm tree... sliding down the cactus (don'tya love that line!).. and just for practice.    

 

But........ (I know, I know, ya can't start a sentence with 'but'..)..  But, I figured out exactly WHY I love music so much (and maybe you do too)....       

 

Music is scripted. Sure, the performers go thru hours and hours of practice... tune and fine tune their work... but... once 'done'...  it's forever and ever kept so you plug it in, or turn it on, whadever...... and shazam...  there it is..  Perfection. NO surprises     

 

With life...  we can plan... practice... go.... do...  but we never know what lurks behind the next minute, hour, words outta his, her mouths... personal events... events locally, nationally, ya just never know.

 

That's why........ I likes my youtube hour.... "Please allow me to introduce myself....."  i don't play Dave Clark's Bits and Pieces, but, bits and pieces of songs,scripted songs, that tell me "Victor, sit your butt down for an hour... let's have fun... allow that music to run thru your body, draw smile... the neighbors won't mind the volume,... you only do it once a month or so.........

 

In spite of ourselves  <-- if you ain't heard that one, ya needta.  I was late to the John Prine party...  damnit darnit I wish he were still here. (A reminder, music is scripted, life ain't). Prine and Iris Dement... try it, you'll like it!

 

I'll watch parts of five or six Stone's songs live.. and get my 73 yr old person exhausted as I watch the 80+ aged Sir Mick run across these damn near football field side stages like he's a kid... and then whatshis-old guitar dude (said lovingly).. .everpresent smile...

 

The good and bad of unscripted life.  Life truly is beautiful... also, runs the gamut of emotions.. 

 

I've never climbed up a palm tree.  Band camp, long ago, Florida.. .vacation with ex, kids, her sister, her kids... wunnerful time. EXCEPT, when I on the ground, hollered up to her (my SIL) on the 2nd floor balcony, "Hey, throw me the car keys please wouldya?"   Did.  Palm tree intercepted.  Uh huh. Did.  We were on vacation so we refused to allow it to make us stressy... it would be nice though if we had a car to go get food, suntan lotion, drive back to make our flight home.  (I think we borrowed a long pole from the pool.. I forget, but I think so)...

 

And............... I love the line slide down the cactus.  That's life (right Frank?)  It makes ya experience being a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king... we all have been up and down and over and out, and we know one thing...each time we find ourselves flat on our face, we pick ourselves up and get back in the race...

 

We play, listen to music, for love, peace and soul.

 

We take on life, just for practice.

 

Off to go get me some breakfast.  Ain't decided yet, Big Biscuit, Ginger Sue's, The Awful Waffle.. .maybe even the Piggly Wiggly's breakfast..........

 

You mind throwing me the car keys?

 

Love, Victurd                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Erasers..........

Do you remember, way back when..  WHEN Victor?  When we were kids... usually one or two selected to take the chalkboard erasers outside to clap 'em together, get ridda all the chalk dust.. 'clean them'?  Me neither... I think it was the beginning of my life as a longtime misogynist, as I only recall chicks being selected. I'M KIDDING, I'm kidding.

Kinda sorta.

We used pencils until they were so darn small you could hardly hold 'em in your hand... and... erasers on pencils that were so used up - you'd try to get one last erase and the metal tore the easily torn Big Chief paper.  Did, does fit my lifetime dogeared persona. You? 

Noticed too, time erases much. Ya hear a buddy tell a story, swears you were there... no recall whatsoever.  Goes both ways too.....

Funny (not ha ha funny, but funny) how stuff over the years that doesn't get erased from the medulla oblongata- is either really good or really bad things, times, statements in our lives.   

You?   I'm too BIGHEADED to forever forget the really nice things people have said... and.. for the most part, I adhere to Biblical guidance on not holding grudges agin the really bad things said, but, admit to at least one I'll prolly never leggo of. It's the ginger/German in me. You? 

I heard a funny.. VICTOR, you tell it, we'll decide if it's funny. Fair enough.  "Take my advice, nobody else does."

Advice, us being the human variety, we of course opt to pick and or not choose advice given.  Seems good, solid advice over the years - we never erase, let go of, and I'm thankful for that... and. .. to the mouths the advice came from.

From the mouths of babes - that stuff, thankfully, we rarely erase.  We may forget exactly whiich one (kid, grandkid... friend of kid, grandkid) said it - the we store those things in the temple, and that's a pretty darn good place to store them.

On my way to hit 'publish' in a sec... but, just a song before I go.......no, that ain't it.  Just a thought.. I'm deathly afeared of getting all the crap in my phone erased. I know backup, Cloud.. still, skeers me.

On personal note (Victor, this whole blog has been personal).. yeah, yeah, whatever.  A couple years ago, my son and I shared a FB account.  Somehow, when one was erased, they both went kapooey. Somehow, 800+ friends wiped out.  Not worth sending friend requests again only to not hear back, or, hear '"you've been hacked"...  So, I've got 800 folks that think I blocked them... nuttin' further than that truth.  You can't erase other's thoughts about you... but.. you're good if you can look in the mirror and know the fer sure side.  That's all.

This blog has been poopy, sorry, should prolly erase it.... but, days can be like that. It's me it's me it's Ernest T.

Love, Victurd 

Limited vocabulary........

As a twerp (Twerp defined as, between the age of first verbal word, and, the approximate age when one gets the peanut butter outta their ears... definitely varies by the person.).. as a twerp the want to learn, expand, saturate the brain by as bigga vocabulary as was possible - resembled Pac-Man, mouth open, on the move, North South East West, all at right angles, to fill up, 'learn', consume, 'store' as many of those damn 'dots' (words) as he could.

 Sure, there are exceptions to the rule and in fairness to them, twerp is kinda demeaning You know, like the 7 year old you see on Good Morning America, that graduated HS at age 5, went to State U and now has his/her BS and will finish his/her Masters in year Ocho.

Then, on the udder end, I will lovingly call them 'geezer twerps', won't name names (Weagley, Moffitt) but, their quest is to write and purposely include a word there ain't a one of us dolts on FB, instagram, X, whadever - have in the arsenal of our brain. I hate, love them, but I've found about all I wanna expand at this age is my waistline.

Purposely limited vocabulary.

I've found, as we age, wipe the wetness off behind our ears, our give-a-damn wanes.  For many, many a year, beginning perhaps with the microwave like hormones of our acne years, thru, long about the time the first SS check is deposited, sex...  well, it ain't job one, but, me thinks for most, it was thought one.

Now, not so much.   Sex?  Yeah, I remember that.  No thanks, I gave at the office.  Jane, you ignorant slut, can't you see you're standing in MY bedroom?  Sure, I jest some, but, it no longer dominates the headlines, is breaking news, blinders on, that kinda stuff.

Vocabulary now.

Hungry.  Oft times today, followed by he/she pointing to the Frigidaire. "You know where it is..... cook your own... if what you want ain't in there.. YOU go the the Piggly Wiggly this time."

Nap.. need sleep, please keep the dog and the cat out, which, is normally followed by the reply, "Close the damn door so I/we don't have to hear you snore, or smell your farts."  Fair enough. (The give and take of longterm.)

I don't wanna go....... to church, book club, out to eat, with you, with or without you, to your folks, to the park, lake, farmer's market, movie, bar, shop, anywhere.  

Well I've been everywhere.... which, is the exact same message as I don't wnna go above, but it's just got the Johnny Cash twist, without naming the Reno, Chicago, Fargo...... Tocapillio, Branquilla and Perdilla places.. They're inferred "been everywhere, don't wanna go" (anywhere).  

Me neither, not to be confused with "OK, then gimme a backrub" or, "OK, lets go for a walk"..."Come sit by me and we'll find something on TV we both like." (Nevermind, neither of us is a fan of dust.)

Don't tell.  When you stop and think of "Don't tell" if makes you think "Hmmm.. I'm gonna learn a secret, and I ain't sposedta tell no one."  Well, that's not it at all.  Don't tell is the exact opposite of Do tell.   I don't care if it happened at band camp, at the office, on the phone, what you read on Facebook, in that damn book you won't put down, whatever, Don't tell. Don't tell, is the today translation to Phil Collins "Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, drag my name allover the place, I don't care anymore." (and, back when we were young enough to remember the ENTIRE lyrics to a song, it followed:

You can tell everybody about 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? See? "Don't tell" much less frustrating to hear, say.  

SEE ME....  FEEL ME...  (DON'T) TOUCH ME......

That's fancy for...... do you get me?  Alla the above might appear like I no like you. That ain't it.  I've grown accustomed to your face.  We learnt all of the above from folks like:

Ralph and Alice Kramden

Fred and Ethel Mertz

Al and Peg Bundy

George and Gracie Burns.

DIG? (Which, is the shortened vocabulary/version of the beloved Professor Keith David, which shortened "Do you understand.... get it...were you listening....")

SEE ME....  FEEL ME...  (DON'T) TOUCH ME......

A short story, by Henry Gibson

Love, Victurd  

  

Out of the ordinary.........

I can just see you sitting there in your Buford T. Justus PJ's, spouting, "Victor, you sumbi*ch, you are out of the ordinary EVERY day!"

Yeah?  Bite me there Huey Lewis and the News.. bite your dog too...  that's news ain't it?

I never ever dreamed.... (THAT'S a lie.. I dream, minimum, three times a day... regular sleep, nap #1 and nap #2.  Yeah, bite me again if I take a third.. It's my life and I'll do what I want.  You hear an echo Eric?

If you woulda sat me down as a kid....... and told me I'd need a code to get into the fort we neighbor kids bullt, I'd get it... but...   need a code to order from Mickeys?  Burger King? (I think I done told you about the day the Mickey Custodian fella had to get out the yellow Piso Mojado sign the day I pulled in, ran (as fast as Joe Cocker can run) to pee, I reach for the door and it's got a damn punch code thing "PLEASE ENTER THE CODE WRITTEN ON THE BOTTOM OF THE RECEIPT TO ACCESS CODE TO DOOR". and... whoop, there it is, Piso Mojado allover the floor.  Sorry, kinda.

That my life would be centered around a 2 inch by 4 inch screen. Glued to as a matter'da fact. That my Aunt Hazel from Osawatomie could 'mail me' a letter on it at 10pm and it didn't need no stamp............ That, that 2"by 4" screen would mean mom would never again have to drop me off at the library, where I'd sneak in, and hopefully the mean ole lady that always looks over her specs wouldn't see me (I was deathly afraid of jail as i owed 24 cents 'cause I was a week late getting the Babe Ruth Biography back to her) where were we? VICTOR?  Need a cognitive test? NO. Oh, mom dropped me at library, and, thanks to my new 2by4 screen, she ain't gotta any longer. I don't have to dewey decimal nuttin'...  I can Google (not Giggle) it. Or, AI it (not to be confused with Allen Iverson or A1 sauce for my steak.

That, that.. the drone ain't the backup Baptist Preacher when the regular dude is on vacation... it's something that flies, no pilot onboard, can take pictures and videos of anyone, anywhere at any time...not to mention deliver you an Amazon package.  (Why would anyone need a package from the jungle?) Stick around kid.

That, in spite of what my little league coach says, you don't need "two hands on a pop up", one and the mouse can catch and put it away easily.  Huh?  Mouse?

I've never quite figured out why....... when color TV's first came out they cost damn near as much as a new Chevy Biscayne.  Now, you can get a TV almost the size of Wilt Chamberlin for the price of a headlight for a new Cadillac Celestiq, $300 or so.  Problem is, I hear folks talking about paying $300 a month just to watch certain channels.  WHAT?I I think I'd rather stick with the local channels, even if it meant staring at the Indian Head test pattern, fuzzy noise at midnight. 

I'm so old I remember when 'Self Checkout' was a mirror.....  Dine and dash or door dash was something your friends whose folks didn't have much money did.  You were lucky to listen to eight records, songs in a row 'cause most eventually got 'skips' in 'em from overplaying.  Now, you can drive to Salt Lake and never have to stop to change a record. 

Pro athletes had second jobs... and heck, we kids, went to school, played sports, had a job, AND still found time to "hey Diane, lets run off down to the low road."  Kids now, some, start a job Monday, call in sick Wednesday, quit Friday, and do it all again after taking the next week off and, with apologies to Dean, "everybody loves (needs) somebody sometime" to simply keep the doors open.  I no comprende'. 

OK, I'm OK. I'm not frustrated.  It's just life can be funny. Or different.  Weird. Then, wonderful again.

We're just glad you didn't bring up that ESPN just recently aired the World Championship of corn hole.

Yeah, me too. 

TMI

Life, is good.

No, not perfect.

We ALL, fall short.

We are our best sparring partner.

That said, ain't it wunnerful to be in life's ring?

Money, an empty Andy's Frozen Custard cup, the gas gauge......

THERE'S NEVER E'NUFF.

Damn, I hit it in the woods... I'm ALWAYS sore, hurt kinda, need a nap after golf.

Victurd, you ignorant slut, tee up the fact you are STILL out there.  Many ain't, who cares about score?  Golf or women. VICTOR? DID YOU JUST SAY THAT?

Forgive me Father, golf pencils ain't gots no 'rasers..... 

Better quit writing now........ L&L Motors may make fun.

Eh, let him, he's a good dude too.

Have a  wonderful day and tell those ya love, you love 'em.

I love you Victurd.

Victor, ain't that a little egotistical?

NO.  It's called howintheheck can one walk this Earth with no self like?  I am aware some do - and please please please - talk to someone. You are loved.  If you didn't hear it the first time, you are loved.

OK?

Ok....

Zalright?

Zalright.

I asked AI who, what comedian usetda say that.  They said nope, never did.  I call BS, which, is perfectly acceptable in self love and in blogs about TMI..............

So, AI, KMA.

Pretty harsh ain't it Victor?

Eh mebbe.  I still like me.

AND, Andy's Frozen Custard.

First try (AFC) yesterday. Of course Mikey likes it.  So does his entire Zip Code.

Yum.

Like life.

Sidestep, those who say "You can't do that"... grumpy people...  ONLY dogs that snarl and look like they ain't had their Kibbles and Bits recently. Raccoons too, not a fan, long story. Nope.

Love, Victurd 

Kibbles and bits.......

Xplain Lucy.......

RICKY RICARDO STOP!  I DON'T HAVE TO 'XPLAIN LUCY' EVERYTHING I DO, SAY, THINK, AND IN SPITE OF OUR INTENSE LOVE FOR ONE ANOTHER, YOUR HANDSOMENESS...................YOU AIN'T THE BOSS'A ME.

Oh, hi.  Sorry.  I was 'listening out loud' whadever that means.  

That's all well and good Victurd, but whadabout Kibbles and Bits..........

In a bit, cheesy pun perhaps intended.

I read the news today, oh boy.......... and I watched the news last night.

I've noticed........ The news is neva' gonna show a dude and his son in the backyard throwing a tennis ball for their "please.. just one more time" loyal hound.....  They ain't gonna have a dude with a microphone, a feller with a huge, heavy camera, standing behind your everyday common couple at the Applebees, perusing the menu jointly, he, the hubby, hand on her back, fingers ever so gently, slowly, moving up and down an inch or two, basically 'talking' holy shit we've seen some ugly stuff if life, but, ya know, we've made it, I CHERISH this quiet moment with you."

They tain't. They tain't gonna show granny sitting on the hill at the City Park, watching Junior's Junior five year old helping some little guy that had fallen on the play equipment back up to his feet. Victor, why did you underline all that crap?  Beats the hell outta me.

The news is gonna show some guy in court up for the murder of however many (I ALWAYS turn my head the other way, NOT to lend him/her credence),  a plane crash, two politicians with their hands (verbally) around their opponents throat.  Mikey apparently likes all that. NOMME, I Snagglepuss it, left.  And I don't mean "Left" of the........... oh, nevermind.  I was trapped.  Trapped, like Mikey, sucked in, a trance, he, me, of easy chair, remote by side, 4,032 options of channels - but, same ole same ole.  PATOOEY.

Victor?  Is this gonna get better?  Prolly not, sorry.  I guess I'm in a mood, and I ain't talking the Glen Miller variety.

Yesterday, driving home from work, 2pm. Time for the third sport's talk dude of the day's program.... 15 seconds in, whining.  CLICK.  Crosstown sport's program, same (whining), just a differn't voice.  CLICK.  Oldies (Classic) rock and roll.  That'll do.  Until, that is, they play Green Day.. and it's "HEY, that ain't CLASSIC.. that AIN'T OLD.. my stepson listened to them and he was born in 1976." Somehow I made it home.

TIME OUT.  STYMIE HALT.  Victor, will this be a full time out or a 30 second time out?  I ain't decided yet.

If I sound unhappy, please know, I really ain't. I've expressed my love for dogs before.  I try to look, see things from their shoes (pads, paws, whadeva ya call 'em). Dogs are a happy sort.  Mostly.  You've seen 'em though..  Laying, or is it lying, on their bellies.. paws extended out front, resting, but, still eyeballing the universe and everything that moves.  IF by chance it sees a murderer in court, a whiny-butt sports guy, anything resembling stranger danger coming, (and I love this part).. THE SNARL.  One side'a the jaw unfurls. In dog language that means "Don't come near me you idiot. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE MY KIBBLES AND BITS, but if you present ugly, harm, no good stuff... I might just take a chunk outta your too large underbelly to send a message." Dogs think like that, trust me. I usedta work in a pet store.

Earlier this morning, after way too much sleep (if there is sucha thing).. I Googled "How to stay sane in a World of crazy."

A Psychology Today article popped up. GOOD. A shrink can help.  VICTOR?  Were you aware shinks lead some of the most messed up lives there are?  Yes, but I had my headphones on so I didn't listen to you, sorry, kinda, not really.  

It spoke about a lady that was one day gonna be a shrink, going to see her shrink in 2001... she was stressing about an upcoming event, so much so, she made the appointment for help on how to deal with it.  From Psychology Today:

"He told me about another student, a mother of two who had just lost her husband in the 9/11 attacks.

“She said she couldn’t stop thinking about how awful the holidays would be,” he said. “I told her, ‘So let them be awful. You don’t have to rehearse for that now.’”  His words were clarifying and oddly liberating. Bad times are unavoidable, but you don’t need to extend the misery by pre-gaming them.

THAT.  What Lucy?  THAT. That's what I meant by Kibbles and Bits.

Victor, you're weird.

A normal blogger might, lay on his belly, extend his arms forward... SNARL... prepare for an snack of fat belly.

But. You've been here before.  If I'm weird and you've been here........ how many times?... What's that say about...................... oh, never mind.    I got extra Kibbles and Bits. Want some?

 Love., Victurd  

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Where do I start?

Well Victurd, most, move to the ULHC.

Huh?

Yeah, the Upper Left Hand Corner.

Oh. Yeah. Thanks.  That ain't really what I meant, but, thanks, and I get that.  I mean, (don't neva' believe someone who starts a sentence with 'I mean."  I mean, what if they don't?  Particularly if their name is Simon.  Huh? Yeah, you know, like, "I mean", Simon says.

For instance.  The grandkids kidnapped me the other day.  Forced me in the car.  (Oft times when i'm driving with them, i'll say, "I'm gonna take a quick nap", cruise control on fitty... "I mean, I need one."  I usedta get a rise out of 'em with that, not so much anymore.  Same with, quietly driving down Interstate, then, scream/point HAY!!!!!!! they'd look and there'd be a big old round bale of hay. Smirk. Don't work no mo' either.

So, they flung me in the driver's seat of my 2002 Buick Century.  Pointed East.  Grandpa  be good grandpa, he knows that means,  "Dari-B", Excelsior Springs, MO.  THE home of soft serve ice cream.  Years ago, in fact, folks across the land thought the soft serve had healing properties, so Horace hollered out, "Go West Young man, to Excelsior.  Scoop you up some soft serve.  I mean, Simon Says."

They did.

We did too.  Now to the point of this damn blog.  Please, no cussing Victurd.  It's the internet, I'll do any darn thing I want.

The point is I WANTED A SHAKE. I was Pavlov'ing for a SHAKE.  It's all I had in/on my brain.  The three snotnoses, er, loving grands, ordered, got.  My turn. I'D LIKE A MEDIUM CHOCOLATE SHAKE, PLEASE.  The order taker stared at one'a my grands, and as if to pretend to be Bart Simpson, said, "You look like a rich kid, use your grandpa's charge card."  So, we did. "That'll be (way too much but I gotta buy everyone something)" so I charged, we waited.

"Here's yours... and yours.. and yours... and, Grandpa, here's your shake and your straw."  Like a kid in a candy store, I envisioned plopping back in the driver's seat......... taking the damn (sorry, darn) paper off the straw, and sucking all that loose chocolate yum up into my big fat mouth. YUM.

Except.  Now to the point of this damn blog. The shake was SO THICK, No matta' how hard I tried, sucked, it wasn't moving.

IT'S LIKE WHEN I SIT DOWN AT THIS DAMN COMPUTER, there, I said it Simon, and I MEANT IT...  I mean, I've got ALL THIS GOBBLEDY GOOP IN MY BRAIN I WANNA SHARE (the really nice, nifty, stryo medium cup fulla heavenly chocolate shake), but I sit down at my computer (that's ME, in the 2002 Buick Century, the keyboard is my straw) and NO MATTA' how hard I think, suck, wish, hope (wishin' and hopin') it ain't happenin.

I wanna write about WalMart. I tweren't in a hurry, so, after driving up and down the aisles, on the 27th passing, I finally got a handicap spot. There was a song on I really liked, so, I didn't get out. As I sat, I saw chain-smokers, boozers, yuppies, bikers, hitchhikers, girls next door, cowboys, truckers, broken hearted fools and suckers, hustlers, fighters, early-birds and all nighters.  I love this bar, er, I mean WalMart.

A trip to WalMart beats all.  Sears supposedly has everything, but hell (sorry, kinda) are there any left?  Baskin-Robbins brags about 31 different kinds, in two minutes, twenty-eight seconds in the WalMart parking lot, you can see 32 kinds of people.  Some, we piggies think "Oh baby, take a little off wouldya?" and others, "Good gosh Gertie, put a little more on wouldya?" Men are perfect though and we don't judge.

You can see people argue... parent...   not-parent...  skimp.. punch numbers into their calculator... stand in the way..  stand in the way, with their cart taking up halfa the aisle, and their butt the other half.. oblivious to us all, even the way too many GD (gosh darn) Wally order pickers... we read on Facebook, listen to people bitch, moan, "I don't work for WalMart, gimme a checker".. and in reality, 93% of all do the self check.  Shrinks love the place.

In fact.  I can just see.. . Two.  A couple.  A couple of retired shrinks, sitting at home.  "Whatta you wanna do?"  "I dunno...whatta you wanna do.?"  And, then, it clicks. WAL-MART! So, they go watch.  For awhile in their close to the front spot, then, if they get hungry, they go in, grab a cart.. .mebbe a grape or four, some rasberries.. .a banana or two...look, listen, and record all the hilarity into their brain.  Beats the hell outta an evening at the B&B Theaters,$67 for two tickets, a large popcorn and a shared Sprite.

When i was a tad younger... I usedta get pissed when I went into Wally. EVERYONE was young.  So, I'd walk my cart around the store until I found someone I was pretty certain was older than me.  If I wasn't sure, "Excuse me ma'am, what year'd you graduate?"  Well, ya gotta find out.  Now, with the hitch-in-the-getalong to my legs, I use a geezer cart.  Ain't near as fun looking for someone older, besides, one too many times I've been trapped in the backa the store with a full cart of groceries and a dead battery.  I will, however, ask virtually every other geezer riding a cart "Wanna race?"  Especially the ones a tad fatter'n me.

So................. my oldest granddaughter noticed my difficulties trying to get shake from the cup into my mouth.... "Did you get a spoon grandpa?" I literally HATE when children are smarter'n me. I get the feel of "It's over Victor, it's over."

So............. the answer to the blog (thick chocolate shake, no go up the straw) was to just set my butt down and start typing.  The blog sucks, I know, but hey, there ain't no pop-up here asking for your credit card info and the three digit thingy (but if you wanna leave 'em, that's cool).

As to the chocolate shake. "No sweetheart, i didn't grab a spoon, but... I've had this plastic knife and fork up here on the dash, saving it specifically for a moment like this."

The Burma Shave to all this crap........  Pride, and a too thick chocolate shake, is hard to swallow... but it will go down... even with a fork, and a very simple minded blog writer.

Here's a toast to better use of your time.  Try WalMart sometime.  Mikey likes it. Shrinks too.

Love, Victurd 

 

 

  

Can anybody find me somebody to love?

jk.

 Well, OK. I will admit I'm a tad envious of those that sprouted up on this Earth around the same time I did... and I getta seat at my computer to watch their Danube Fitty Year Anniversary Cruises....  or, the whole fam damily in Cancun feasting, celebrating, on enchiladas, tequila and sunshine for #55.

The last relationship I was in, it was decided (vote was 1 to 0) that I needed a purpose.  I musta misheard, thought 'porpoise' was uttered... so, I cleaned out the fridge (ate everything).. the one on the porch too (hey, when hb is $6.99 a pound, even freezer burned beef tastes yum... At some point later, she coated me with Vaseline, pushed, wedged me out the door. Another one bites the dust.

I guess I could....... I could take 4-5 years, watch my eating habits, exercise (dream on), get down to 190, find, at age 78, some chicky to march down the aisle with... sooooooooooooo, by 2081, I/we too could have a Fitty year anny.

Ya know, I kinda understand Meatloaf and his "Praying for the end of time" (he was 30 when that came out)......... That (forever) is/was a hella long time.

Conversely, when the Pubs finally come up with that Healthcare plan for us all, and me and Mildred could easily look forward to, and make fitty years, we'd each only be 129.

I get Meatloaf looking at it like a prison sentence...  but au contraire, me and Mildred know, we know forgetfulness is gonna come soon.  Not making fun, and I know it's nothing to make fun of.... but, the prospect of one day, oh, ten years or so, getting foggy, getting 'a new' mate every five, ten years, without even having to rent a U-Haul truck, what better?

You know, we could sneak and unlock the side door to Golden Acres during the day, and Mellencamp out later, "Hey Mildred let's 'walker-off' behind a shady tree, dribble off those Alfred Dunner Depends and let me do as I please."    A little ditty, about Victurd and Mildred, two American Octogenarians doin' the best they can.

I know that's all a facade.  I could never get down to 190.  In spite of practiced walker walking, not to mention buying THE very best bouncy tennis balls, I could never catch Mildred.

I'm old. 

I'm real old.  A former coworker (I hate her) just retired (I don't think she's even fitty yet, I hate her), well, she challenged me to a game of Wordle because "Now I'm old too" and I think there was a snarky LOL in there somewhere (I hate her). I lose Wordle every day to my youngest niece, I don't need another snotnose slap on my face.

I jest.  I have plenty of love in my life - that I don't jest of.  Life is good. I'm too selfish to have another relationship (which, might be fancy for "I never could solve a Rubik's cube, why try?")

I'm thinkin' about throwing my geezer scooter in the trunk. My 4 man tent too. Takin' me a Silver Alert trip out West.  Ain't never seen The Grand Canyon.  They still sell them bookmaps? 

Mildred?

 Wanna go? 

 

Somebody call the cops...........

There's little guys (and gals) and big guys (and gals)......

There's little guys (and gals) that go to school daily, see their buds with really nifty Pokemon, Disney or Marvel themed lunch boxes - complete with a matching Thermos, compartments for cold items, cookies, yada, the whole ball'a wax in yum.

The little guys (and gals) who eyeball these, oft times bring their lunch in a paper bag (goodies inside proudly packed by a mom or  a dad), and sure, they're thankful for their yummy stuff........... but just once........ just once........

 Oft times, these same little guys (and gals) come to school looking tired.. maybe in need of a haircut... wearing Wednesday what they wore Tuesday, passing it off as "it's my favorite outfit."

Some, little guys (and gals) can be pretty cruel in teasing, making fun of, at, some little guys (and gals) and, it ain't nuttin' they did, nor, any fault of their own.

Some years ago, as Bruce Springsteen likes to sing, "In My Hometown" the local police department intercepted an ongoing con game and confiscated an IPad.  It was deemed it came from 'Wally.'  The contacted 'Wally', 'Wally' said "Nope, not ours, try 'Wally,com', did, 'Wally.com' said "Yeah it's ours but we don't want it back."

Steps in Police Officer, for story-sake, let's call him "DD"... "Hey, I know. I've had this idea.  Christmas time, there's kids (little guys, and gals) that are less fortunate... howabout we raise some funds, tell 'em we're gonna take 'em to 'Wally' just before Christmas... they can pickout two items for themselves, then, they can buy something for their brothers, sisters, mom, dad.  We'll fetch 'em back to the Station, have wrapping paper there (as well as several boxes of hot pizza).. help 'em wrap 'em, then, have our In My Hometown Access bus take them home to surprise their family.

So, they did.  That IPad?  They raffled it off, and thus began 'In My Hometown''s now annual Shop With A Cop.

One of the big guys (and gals) told me, "Sometimes, the kids go a tad over their limit of funds, and the officers pull out their billfolds, purses, to take care of the rest.  It's really fun to be a part of, and amazing for the kids, families, AND us!"

Yesterday...      73 men sailed out.. on that............. wait.. that ain't it.  

Yesterday...     66 big guys (and gals) gathered...  to supplement bake sales, donations and raffles... they participated/donated/played in their "Hometown" Townie Invitational Golf Tourney..  this was the 4th year for the gathering, but last year, it was decided "Hey, let's add a few bucks for the "My (our) Hometown Shop With A Cop program... did.. they pitched in....  $640 was raised. No, not a lot, but, something.

Prior to  66 big guy (and gals) gathering, local My (Our) Hometown merchants donated gift certificates for dinners, golf, t shirts, yada... to award as hole prizes for the 66 big guys (and gals) and a fair amount were displayed on a table for a Silent Auction.  Their goal was to "at least double" last  years $640. (In fact, they doubled the portion of their entry fee that goes directly to Shop With A Cop).

One of the golfers donated 124 half pound hot dogs for the big guys and gals lunch.. three non-golfers but really good guys and cooks, heated 'em up.  The town where the golf course is (next town over from My (Our) Hometown, bent over backwards to accomodate, 'man' the collection tables, beverage cart, display the scores of golfers in a fancified thingy that put them on the Big Screen TV for all to see.

Folks bid, and bid, and bid for the items in the Silent Auction.  All of the tips from the 66 big guys (and gals) from the beverage cart... a dollar a 'soda pop'.. .all went into that green money bag for My (Our) Hometown's Shop With A Cop program.

Throughout  the day, dropped buckaroo after buckaroo ($5's,$10's, $20's.... "Here, we finished in 3rd place, we're donating it back"...   a guy hands over $50, says "thanks!"...  another, "$40.. yet others, more. A beautiful 80 year old lady that plays every day, wasn't in the tourney, yet, slipped a Twenty in an envelope and wrote "Have fun, for the Shop With A Cop Tourney."

 Lo and behold.......... a couple of Policemen (a guy and a gal) showed up at the end to speak about the program, say thanks, and fetch the funds back to the Shop With A Cop director. 

The goal of doubling last year's total was smashed... more to count, but it's going to be closer to quadrupling.

LOOK AT WHAT YA DONE STARTED "DD", and we, Our Hometown, couldn't be prouder.

Somebody call the cops......... tell 'em, "Hey, in addition to your Shop With A Cop program, thanks for EVERYTHING you do, day in, day out.

In Our Hometown.........in Our Hometown..... 

' 

 

 

Exhale..........

Grease may be the word...... but me thinks exhale might be the answer to every question, true/false, multiple choice, fill in the blank. It follows colds, coughs, setting the thermostat on a cold winter's day, finally hearing it kick in.

Its' an answer like mercurochrome, "have you tried restarting your computer?", "take two aspirin and call me in the morning", "Eat your (Wheaties, vegetables)".  It follows a long day at work, pulling weeds in the garden, a tense, bite one's fingernails World Cup game, a boo boo, an almost fall, perhaps even a romp in the hay.

It's the greatest helper to 'back to normal', "we did it", "that was...(hard, fun, long, rough, scary, unbelievable, expensive, free, perfect, terrible)"...       

 It can be an assistant to road rage, your kid (or grandkid) in the batter's box, down a run, two outs, an follows whatever the result is, good or bad... an old fart looking up his bank balance at 2am on the third Wednesday of the month,  

It follows, someone who's overstayed their visit, leaving.  An hour meeting at work that shoulda taken fitteen minutes, your mechanic handing you the bill that's $112 less than what you thought it'd be.

Moms (and I guess sometimes dads too) shortly after watching the 'little' take his, her first steps... training wheels off, having a continuous coughing fit, finally catching their breath - so, you exhale, catch yours.  Moms are like that, yeah they are.

Touchdown on the runway, slowing to a crawl...  Pulling in the driveway.......

It's very rewarding to me to have friends swing by here periodically... (ex)hale, (ex) hale, the gang's all here, what the (ex)hale do we care....

I care a bunch, and I thank you......... and I always exhale after hitting 'publish'.

Love, Victurd                                                                                     

Pay it backwards.........

Life, in reverse.  My father, he of PRNDL ilk, used ta think he was funny in saying "Put it R for race." Don't get me wrong, looking back (hint, hint hint, the ilk of this blog) my father was a wonderful father.  Sure, I'm biased, but sure, I'm correct as well!

Life today way includes backwards.  Bassackwards some say, others say ass-backwards.

There's the guy who bought the brand new Ford.  You know, the one with the screen "bigger'n your PC at home."  The backup camera.  Well, the guy wrote (mighta been 'called'., I ain't sure) Ford to relate, "It's defective...every time I go to the Piggly Wiggly and backout to leave, the DVD player keeps 'playing the same movie' over and over of the guy putting his hands up, getting run over.  If was funny the first time, but this camera thing needs fixing."

Uh huh.

We've talked about Michael Jackson and his moonwalk. Kris Kross and their bassackwards clothes.. folks, back in the day, labeled 'backwards'.

We know a certain blog writer that 'lives in the past a bit much.'  Forgive me Father for I have admittedly key-stroked here. I likes me some yesterday... sure, the McCartney one, but. all the others we've got stored in our brains, photo albums, junk drawers, minds of friends, yearbooks, newspapers, microfilm, yada yada yada.

We here have grabbed our Crayons and colored Victurd weird because he enjoys reading (NOT celebrating, but reading) obits.  It's a thing with me.  I walk outta a funeral.. there are two schools of thought...   "Good guy"... "Not so good guy."  Fortunately, the good guys and gals WAY outnumber the others.

Recently, the obit of a lady A HUNNERD AND TWO.  We'll call her 'Sal'.  Sal lived a charmed life.  Her first job was in a high rise on the only floor that had air conditioning. She'd ride the street car to work... and years later would look back (is there a theme here?) marveling about how those tracks were torn out.... and then many years later, put back in virtually the same place here in KC.

She rented a room next to a furniture stripping business.... and for many years, bought 'things' (antiques') of the past, sold them as a dealer.  She became well known for her expertise, appraisal and fair prices - all, in accordance with how she was brought up (in the past).. the era... thanks to the efforts, role models before her.

'Sal' was known for her light-hearted wit, keen intelligence, as an avid reader, the kind who would do crossword puzzles in ink... had a natural tact for not letting a grammatical error go uncorrected (speech and print.)  As her eyesight and hearing waned, she never lost her sense of humor. Festive, holiday meals, she might suggest "Next time.. you might try....". When asked "How?" (to 102 years) she replied "This too shall pass" and "All things in moderation."

 The entire obit was a wonderful read, but, the 'gooder' part, to me anyways, is how the family was thankful to all who enabled this charmed, wonderful lady to remain in her house and continue life living on her means.

Without specifically calling it "Paying it backwards", the family thanked many who played a role in that.  The one who gave facials.... another who cut her hair.. .yet another who kept her yard up to Sal's standards.. .the guy who made sure, rain or shine, her newspaper made it on the front porch... another for their weekly 'wine and companionship'..  another who brought her a  good lunch and conversation.. 

The three names that enabled her to remain (and pass) in her final days in her own bed, alongside her cat Maddie.. and of course the entire Hospice crew.  

Paying it backwards is such a wonderful thing.

As we go forward in life - we gotta remember, when backing up, if we see that guy in the video holding his hands up in dispair....... hit pause (put it 'in P for Park')... look at life.. smell the roses... whilst we can.

Love, Victurd  

Purple Passion...........

Back in the day...............  'Xplain Lucy (Victurd), that could mean a year ago, ten, thirty, fitty.. how? Much?

Yeah my bad.. in this case... Fitty plus years ago, Purple Passion was not made with Jamaican Rum... rather, El Cheapo grain alcohol, some kinda cheap fruit punch, and the end result was usually dju-makin-me crazy. (Never forget, I was a sophomore three years in college.)

 Key word, PASSION.  Mind outta gutter, NOT THAT, at least not in this case.

This morning as I sat at the computer... I started singing.  Don't you do that?  I personally enjoy (VICTOR! NOBODY ASKED YOU!)..... ahem, I personally enjoy really deep, bass junk. One liners...... you know, like:

DUKE DUKE DUKE DUKE OF EARL DUKE DUKE, DUKE OF EARL DUKE DUKE DUKE OF EARL............. or.......

Ba-bom-a-bom-bom.. (Ba-bom-a-bom-bom).. (Ba-bom-a-bom-bom)
(Ba-dang-a-dang-dang).. (Ba-ding-a-dong-ding).. (Blue moon, moon, moon)..(Blue moon)...

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

Nonea them tickle your innards?  Holy crap man, go take your pulse!

And then........... and then what Victor? And then it happened?  NO.  And then, the antonym for deep bass songs to love would be chicky songs (said very lovingly) with great (purple?) passion where it feels like the gal singin' could beat you up.

Them Pretenders that I would prolly surrender if they sang with the passion they sing...

"Gonna make you, make you, make you notice... Gonna use my arms, gonna use my legs
Gonna use my style, gonna use my sidestep.. Gonna use my fingers, gonna use my, my, my
Imagination"

Joan Jett's purple...........  "I love rock 'n roll, So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock 'n roll, So come and take your time and dance with me". Ow! SURE Joah, I'll hop right to it! 

VICTOR!  Huh?  Tell me again which wife it was that said "Victor, do you realize not everyone gets as excited about your ideas as you?"       I can't remember, probably both of them....... which....... brings us to the express purpose, intent of this blog.

NOT EVERYONE SHARES THE SAME PASSIONS...    Example Victor?

SOCCER.

I will say, having the World Cup on our American soil... and at least some of the games, specifically here in Kansas City......  The Passion of the fans is literally second to no other sport.  It's a Country thing.  Comes with all the glitter (bright colored uni's, tops, shirts, shorts, shoes) jewelry, hats, glasses, makup, women AND men.. the dancing. DANCING TOGETHER AS A COUNTRY.  Songs, cheers, moves, smiles, laughs.  The best.  I'm sorry Cheeseheads, Dallas Cowboy folks across the land.. even Mahomey on the range here in Kansas City......  we don't hold a candle to the passion of soccer fans.

I like, love that.

The game, to me, different story..... Offsides? I never even saw 'em snap the ball.  What's extra time?  Do they like put a runner on second base? Did they learn them flops from the NBA? Yellow card, red card, are they like playing Go Fish?  And PLEASE, don't get HIM involved FIFA.

Some say "There ain't no way I enjoy watching 90 plus minutes and nobody scores...."  And, I get that.  Then I watched the penalty kick playoff ending thingy. That was pretty cool.

Bottomline............ passion is a very good thing... and we have different paths to attain it.

You say GOODBYE (and, that you're going to play chess, read a paperback, make (and eat) at pasta salad, do as many planks as you can in thirty minutes.).........

And I say HELL NO...... i don't know why you say GOODBYE and do all that dumb stuff (just my opine, sorry)... and I say HELL NO.... I'd much rather go sit on the Town Square, people watch.. forward silly (but fun to me) Facebook jokes, reels, and then, top it off with two beers at the Landing.

Purple Passion........... red white and blue... or, whatever Ghana's, Curacuao's, Côte d'Ivoire's (who?), Uzbekistan's.. colors are. 

Jimmy Dean........... JAMES DEAN..........   rock on. 

 

 

 

Thoughts..........

There just ain't enough time in life to do everything ya wanna do.

 

There usually ain't enough money to do whatever ya wanna do in life.

 

There are absolutely perfect times in a relationship, be it a lover, a relative, inlaw, friend, coworker, acquaintance. the order-taker at Mickey D's, the guy (or gal) in line infronta ya for whatever you're waiting on, your mechanic, HVAC dude (or dudette), beautician, barber, pedicure performer, preacher, teacher, student, your team, Rover, FiFi, Jerry the gerbil, Mr. Ed, the temperature, the wind, the sun, the sky, the rain, the drain. The mailman, Jehovah's, wanna be councilperson door knocker, the door knocker, handle, sink, showerhead, mattress, cable rep, unknown caller.  Yada.

 

Yada, is all the crap you can't think of offa the toppa your head.

 

Lovers can argue, relatives have hurt, friend(s) might not invite you, the acquantance may ask your name (again), when you debag the cheeseburger in your car you can cuss "I HATE onions", you can tap your toe in line, faster and faster as patience wanes, pull $'s from 401K to pay for mechanic, AC. You may fall asleep mid sermon, teacher lesson. Dog, cats, gerbils, sometimes poop where they ain't sposedta.  Sometimes you don't see it until too late.

 

Rarely, but happens, forecasters get it right, you get soaked going to car to get the carton of smokes you left there.  It's all junk mail, "Sorry, no time today Jehovah's, wanna be elected person, "I gotta fix the door handle, sink, showerhead, that damn spring in the mattress... call cable, scream REPRESENTATIVE!.

 

That stuff.

 

Inbetween all that crap.  Life really ain't bad.

 

You look wonderful tonight. Reunion? First week in October? Cool, I'll reserve the shelter.. Ha! Found a twenty in my jeans, I'd love to go see MU at the Sprint Center or whateverinthehell they call it now, thanks for asking, friend.  It was just a fuse? My AC just needed a good cleaning?  Enjoyed that preach, teach.  All animals, meet at the back door, we're having a party out back.   Did you know regular ole vinegar cleans a showerhead?  I didn['t neither until I Google DIY'ed it. Cable lady was really, really nice.    

 

Life is never perfect, but it's full, hella full, of perfect moments.

 

I'm gonna try, to fit a ton of fun into the day. Hope you do too.

 

(Side note.  Speaking of 'fitting a ton'..  time to rearrange dresser again, today.  Three drawers of shorts.  Top drawer has ones that I can still button at the top. Next one down has ones I can still wear but ain't no way in hell to button de button.  Bottom drawer is my "be for real Victor" drawer. I know I never will, but hey, I keep em.  Well, this morning, shorts from top drawer wouldn't button.  Damnit.  Movin' em down. Drawer two is now drawer three...  Drawer three's contents to be taken to Thrift Store today, and, you guessed it.. will purchase several pair a size fatter to refill top drawer.

 

Perfect, or something like that.    

 

Love, Victurd                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

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