Who am I?............

Editor's note.. Written by me (The Who Am I dude)... first, after reading, yain't prolly gonna know my name anyways... this ain't so much about the search... I kinda fondly call it a human interest story about an interesting human. There, I said it!

If you read the article containing mosta the junk below............ you may happily go take a nap.

If yain't read the article containing mosta the junk below...... then cuss me, call me a plagiarist, I'll happily support your dander.  

If, after, already having read the article I've plagiarized, or, after reading the blog where I've plagiarized the article, and, ya still don't know whointhehell he is.....

I didn't either.

I went from law....... to politics..... back to law....... then finance...... (WAIT!~ This is Victor.  I switched jobs like crazy too. You mean, THERE'S STILL HOPE FOR ME TOO?.. No Victor, give it up, you're ancient. To quote Carole King, "And it's too late, baby, now it's too late, though you really did try to make it."  I will tellya though, I just seen some lady put a full jar'a a NEW peanut butter in the pantry goodie box infrtona the Presbyterian Church.. Run Forrest!)

I launched a podcast..   bought three TV shows.....  bought, gotme a copy of the Magna Carta and the Emancipation Proclamation. 

Wrote me some books........ Interviewed Kim Kardashian, Elon Musk and the last two US Presidents.... Joe even done stayed in my Nantucket home a few times.

Dad was a mailman........Mom, a homemaker...   played me some Little League baseball....

I don't drink alcohol....... or coffee... and I hardly ever take a vacation.. Some, I guess, would call me boring.

Back in '14, I made me a rap video.  Yeah.. . I was promoting the investment company I founded, The Carlyle Group..  hadme on a suit and tie, I snapped ma' fingers, bobbed my head..  "Takes a lot of brains to do what we do...looking for a way to make some dough for you."  Not too bad eh? I did it all too, wearing a pair of Beats headphones..  you know, them ones Dr. Dre invented that Apple bought for 3 Mil... well, The Carlyle Group had invested in them.

Nowadays.... Ya havfeta keep employees happy. I've kinda sorta figured that out. You want them to stay with you.. I'm trying the best I can.

Kinda like baseball players, I've done made me some errors... My investment firm has done pretty good... but, I once turned down the opportunity to meet, possibly invest in some startup company called Facebook or somethinglikethat owned by Zuckersomethinglikethat.  I also turned down an opportunity to purchase 20 percent of some company a feller named Bezos started.. told him, "If you're lucky and things work out, the most it'd ever be worth is $300 Mil.. Amazonorsomethinglikethat.

I like baseball Ray.....

In fact......

Somea the things I've done in 'my new job'....... well..  they lemme, at age 74, jump in the batting cage.. I SMACKED ONE, don't get excited, they's throwin' about 2mph.. so, I thought "this ain't nuttin'", jumped in the other batter's box to try lefthanded.  Nope. A Big NOPE.

One hot day game, me and the Oriole bird jumped up on toppa the dugout.. They announced me as "Mr. Splash"... I had goggles an'a floatie on... grabbed a hose....... sprayed the fans.. they seemed to like it......

Nice to meetya, my name is David Rubenstein, and me and some other dudes (one of 'em some guy named Ripken,) recently bought the Baltimore Orioles. Yeah yeah, I'm the primary owner, that's cool.

See?  I ain't never either.... I like him though.  He is one of 40 initial individuals who have pledged to donate 50% of their wealth to charity.  Those documents he bought, he 'lent' em to the National Archives.. Smithsonian, Mount Vernon, yada.

$13.5 Mil to The National Archives... $4.5 Mil to The National Zoo for it's panda reproduction program.. $10 Mil National Gallary of Art.. $10 Mil again to it.. $7.5 Mil to repair Washington Monument.. $3 Mil more to fix their elevator.. $50 Mil to the JFK Center for the Performing Arts.. $20 Mil to the The Thomas Jefferson Foundation... (All these donations, just go thru 2015........ Many, Many, Many more, $ince. He's some good dude.)

I recently had my longtime cummunications guy WHISTLE the National Anthem, that was fun. Kinda proud of the fact that we (The Orioles) won the American League East last year, are in First place right now - in spite of the fact we're in the bottom 5 of all MLB teams in payroll. Hard to keep up with them Yankees, Dodgers, the big TV contract folks.. et al.

Rubenstein, self professed as shy...... mingles with fans.. .shakes hands.. On Mother's Day, he had a group of Gold Star Mothers (moms who had lost a son or daughter serving in the armed forces) into his owner's suite for the second year in a row.

"He's very unassuming," said Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden, a Baltimorean who knows Rubenstein from their shared efforts to boost literacy. "I think he's actually a little shy, but, he's very curious about people and their backgrounds and their history. It's just part of who he is."

This blog ain't funny. I KNOW, I KNOW, the majority of 'em ain't. But.. but.. good news rocks, my take anyways.  A good man.  A giver.  Fun, with a capital F. Cares about others.

Me, Mr. "Get Ur Dayum Wiffle Ball outta my yard.......... smile at me when you hand me my fries there junior..  get offa my tail you Gosh Darn Tailgater"......... needsta read more stuff like this.

Have a wonderful.............. Tuesday.  Yep, just checked my pillbox...... Happy Tuesday.

Love, Victurd

It ain't half bad.......

 %

Coffee made, Wordle done, Sport's read , Sudoku cinchy (it's Monday, the easiest day)... Local news (patooey).. National news (s'more patooey).. World news (huh uh).. then,

"New Jersey wildfire is 75% contained."  That confused the hell outta me.  I started to dig deeper into the tiny font KC rag, but, onea the toothpicks holding my eyelids apart, slipped.  Half ain't bad, but when it was the 'read close up' eye, that ain't good.

"Baseball is 90 percent mental. The other half is physical."  Yogi Berra, Ancient Roman Emperor

You successfully swing at, hit, fastballs, curves, slurves, changeups, knuckle balls, sliders... successful (REALLY successful) being 33% of the time, they throwya in Cooperstown.

Pack one, just one, parachute improperly, they throwya in San Quentin.

In the US, 27% of the folks have blue eyes. 60.3% work.   37.9 million (that's a lot) in the US live in poverty.  Victor?  What percent is that?  11.5, pass the peanut butter perty please!

51% of the babies born in the US are MALE.  Nuh uh!  Uh huh!  Criminy, it's no wonder I'm single, I'm behind the 8 ball.  Gimme a break, gimme a break, break me offa piecea that Kit Kat Bar..  (On the break, the 8 ball goes in only 0.8% of the time). 

Less than 2% of NCAA athletes go on to play professionally. One-third (that be 0.33333333333333, yep, 14 of them suckers) of all adults still sleep with a comfort object.  VICTOR?  What did you just throw behind the bed? Well I'll be go to hell, that's a TEDDY BEAR ain't it?  Ahm, ahm, my granddaughter dropped it last time she was here, honest.

On a daily occurance, 12% of the people over 18 lie quite often.

13% of patients lie to Docs... "Yessir, half pack a day... and..  on Wednesdays, my buddies and I have two beers apiece after golf."  Every day, women tell three lies to their partners, supervisors, and co-workers. MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT, I JUST PLAGUERIZE THE CRAP I READ.  Lemme see, three lies a day,  that's dang near 1,100 a year. Victor, this blog is on percent, not totals. Get with the system.

The average American generates nearly 4.5 pounds of trash each day.  So...... if you're above average, would that mean more or less trash?

Michael row the boat ashore.  Over the past century, Michael been the most popular male baby name 44 times. While I'm only of C+, M+ ilk, I can capabaly inform you that's 44% of the time.

80% of the people DO NOT wash their hands after using the toilet.  Eww.

You  scream, I scream..... the average American eats nearly 13 pounds of ice cream per year.  Victor?  Average?  The average American is about $131,000 in debt, has $34 in their pocket, spends $69 a day, reads just 4 books a year, is 17 pounds overweight.  VICTOR?  Huh?  Whadda you weigh?

15.5% of Americans are hard of hearing. We get an average of 0.5 pieces of personal mail per household every week.

On an average day, only 19% of men do housework, as compared to 49% of women. Victor?  Why is that? 

15.5% of Americans are hard of hearing. The aveage person could fill as many as 23 2-liter bottles with the amount of saliva they produce in a month. That sentence bugged 99%  of the people, but there is always that one weirdo with eyes like Marty Feldman, ya know?

59% of dogs are obese. 43% of dogs sleep in their owners' beds. 79% of dogs get a Christmas present.  There are more than 6,000 dogs registered to come to work with Amazon employees at the company's Seattle office.  Dog poop weighs between 2.5 ounces and 1 pound.  The average dog poops 1 to 5 times a day.  Low end, that's 937.5 pounds of dog poop at Amazon daily, high end, 30,000 pounds of dog poop a day. (6000 dogs times 1 pound time 5 times a day) Prime odor, either end.

As many as 95% of millennials are not saving adequately for retirement.  What about you Victor, you're a boomer?  45% of baby boomers save a sufficient amount for retirement.  Victor, I didn't ask for a boomer average, I asked abou YOU?

15.5% of Americans are hard of hearing.  Each American drinks an average of 26.5 gallons of beer and cider per year.  Victor?............... Victor? I HAPPEN to really like cider, bite me.

"If what you're reading bores you or just doesn't catch your imagination, your mind is likely to wander and it often wanders right off to sleep."

You can fool somea the people alla the time, alla the people somea the time...... never, EVER, eat a tootsie roll at Amazon in Seattle.

Love, VicTURD

Kansas City Whine.........

If you took notes... HA! Victor, that's a good one! Best usage of this rag of a blog might be to print, save, what should the shelves of Wally, Target, every, become emptied of TP again.  There. Wipe that eh?

Wow. Harsh.  Vitriol.

It was said four of us old cronies went to hear Robert Cray.  He WAS very good - but, I didn't think he really verbally (connect the dots, duct tape/baling wire, "loveya KC!") schmoozed the audience to get in his hip pocket, so to speak.  I suppose, on second peek, 'hip' pocket is a really bad pun.

He did, however, at one point state "Kansas City Wine."  I've nodded off, slept here, lived here, halfway paid attention to Kansas City for 71 years. I didn't think I'd heard mention of Kansas City Wine prior.

I'm reminded of, once, staring at a framed print on our living room wall.. "Honey, when'd we get that painting?"...  Two years ago.  "Oh, k, thanks." You think I josh about C+, M+ student, ha! I was ADHD before The Village People ever did a pushup at the YMCA.

Kansas City Whine.

I bitch. I moan.  I try to keep it within, slip sometimes. You there.  You, with your eyeballs here, you do too DON'TYA sometimes?  If this was Romper Room, they'd say "I see Jimmy, and Susan, and Terry, David, Phyllis, Rich, Larry, another David, Edwin, Liz.... oh, and there's Pinocchio!"  We all, bitch, moan. Some, more than others. Some aloud. Some quietly.. Some hold it in. (Bless you, It Ain't Me Babe. Open mouth, I blurt, or type. Can't help it. Itchy itchy rash, ie, see something I disagree with, I scratch/spout. Then hide, feel bad, hate me, eh, whatever.)

At present, the USA is akin to music.  Huh?  Yeah, ROCK, ROLL, BLUES. We're shaky. We keep rolling. Often blue.

I thoughta the song "Let's work together" by Canned Heat. Liked that song. Not sure we should replace the Star Spangled Banner with it, or, God Bless America - but I wouldn't mind going to a Royal's or Chief's game, standing, saluting the flag (or hand over heart, whichever) whilst some dude or dudette sang "Let's Work Together."

Back to the Kansas City Wine.  Turns out, it's included in the lyrics of a heap big hit by Wilbert Harrison in 1959.  Uh huh, perty please to see below.

 I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come

I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come
They got some crazy lil' women there
And I'm gonna get me one

I'm gonna be standing on the corner
Of Twelfth Street and Vine
I'm gonna be standing on the corner
Of Twelfth Street and Vine
With my Kansas City baby
And a bottle of Kansas City wine

Well I might take a train
I might take a plane, but if I have to walk
I'm going just the same
I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come
They got some crazy lil' women there
And I'm gonna get me one

Oh but you know yeah

Now if I stay with that woman, I know I'm gonna die
Gotta find a brand new baby
That's the reason why
I'm going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come

They got some crazy lil' women there and I'm gonna get me one
They got crazy lil' women there and I'm gonna get me one
They got some crazy lil' women there and I'm gonna get me one

I had no idea who Wilbert Harrison was until this morning.

A blog for another day might be a Band Camp story on "Going to Kansas City" back in the day.  If you lived 'up North', pretty much THE way to cross the Muddy Mo' into KC was the Paseo (now Kit Bond) Bridge.  Twas a toll booth. A dime. Had choices, either automated baskets you could toss it in, or, a real live people you could hand it to, or, get change.  I remember some heathens, they usedta pull up to Attendant #1, hand the dime-taker a dime, and then "and this (second dime) is for my buddy" just as said buddy came screaming thru the toll booth next door at 65 miles per hour. Uh huh, heathens................ Or (to be continued)

Mebbe said heathens would spit on dimes, hand to dime-taker. NO. Uh huh. Or, heat it up real good with a Bic lighter, hand to dime-taker. Creeps, they were creeps.  Seen 'em do it. Ahm Pinocchio, er, I mean Victor?

Back to "Let's Work Together", which, as little creeps from Liberty, MO grew up, matured (but justa tad) they treated the toll booth takers nicer, "Here's your dime, have a nice day Mrs. Cleaver", then, hell's bells, the road/bridge was paid for, they stopped takin' toll.

Victurd, I am lost.  Robert Cray "Kansas City Wine."  The song Kansas City by Wilbert Harrison in 19fitty-nine...... then you pull "Let's Work Together" by Canned Heat, sang at Woodstock in 19sixty-nine.........

Yeah butt.........

Yeah butt what?

Wilbert Harrison recorded, sang, WROTE, had a hit with "Let's Work Together" in 1962.

Victurd, you're weird.

And you just now noticed that painting?

I love Rock and Roll... Kansas City Wine..  Kansas City Whine... Let's Work Together.... or, as Joan Jett might say,

Put another dime (non-heated, no slobber) in the jukebox baby.

Love, PinocchioTurd.

Who is you?

 It's been hashed and rehashed - no, not that kinda hash ya dayum doped up hippies... it's been hashed and rehashed, I'm a simpleton.

A Grammarly simpleton.  The song below.  It kinda makes me feel yummy.  To me, 'you' ain't singular. I know I know when Leo Sayer put the pencil to the paper, drew them 'note things', which, to me, are like Chinese - he was specifically talking about a love interest, thus, one would think "Who ARE you?" would suffice.

Huh uh.  It don't. So, simpleton tip toed to join/download Grammarly, went through a hunnerd and twelve steps, ninety-three pop ups, a User ID, password, "no, i don't want the enhanced version, I'm a damn tightwad" JUST TELL ME IF "Who is you?"  is grammatically correct!

Apparently, tain't.  Should be.

Ah-ah

Ah, ah-ah
Ah (would you sing), ah-ah

You've got a cute way of talkin'
You got the better of me
Just snap your fingers and I'm walkin'
Like a dog hangin' on your lead, yeah yeah

Sure, he thinks his lover is cute.. she snaps her fingers and he's "I will follow you.. follow you wherever you may go." Victor, Ricky Nelson ain't been in since Elvis was skinny, and that's one too many damn songs. OK, thanks, but...  who is you?

I'm in a spin, you know
Shakin' on a string, you know

You make me feel like dancin'
I wanna dance the night away
You make me feel like dancin'
Every night and everyday
You make feel like dancin'

Me, three buddies.  Victor, Grammarly might suggest "Three buddies and I."

Me, three buddies - out and about last night. Ultimate destination was Knuckleheads Saloon (THE place to see/hear, really good music) to see a feller (and his band) named Robert Cray. He got the blues, in a damn good way, is a year younger than me, looks 20 years younger (damn him)... quite the entertainer.

First, everyone gets picked up.  We go to a joint.  It's a fairly popular joint North of KC known for their bigass pork tenderloins, (the size of Rhode Island).  I'm not funny (well, maybe funny looking).. I'm not funny, but you mebbe giggled because Rhode Island is so small... Ed McMahon asks "How small is it?"  The pork tenderloins there, like Rhode Island, are 48 miles North to South, 37 East to West and one will feed the entire 53 man Kansas City Chiefs roster PLUS the practice squad, and Andy Reid, twice.

Dancing.  You. ON WITH IT VICTOR.

I feel like dancin', dancin'
Dance the night away
I feel like dancin', dancin'

Grabbed a beer. Didn't have the fritter (no time left for you, on my (our) way to better things.)  But, noticed a band.  A happy band.  Why does everyone in a band look happy?  Ain't it akin to pullin' crap offa conveyor belt... mebbe saying "Hi, may I take your order?".. cubicle folks don't smile all the time.. Punchin' a dayum time clock..   "Have to's", most jobs anyways.  Music folks look happy.

Quarter to four in the mornin'
I ain't feeling tired, no, no, no, no, no, whoo!
Just hold me tight and leave on the light, yeah
'Cause I don't want to go home, no way, no

Actually, it was quarter til 8 (pm), Robert Cray started at 8, we bootscooted. Thanks band, enjoyed.  You make me feel like dancing.

You put a spell on me
I'm right where you want me to be

Holy quacamole. Knuckleheads Saloon.  THE very best people watchin' joint ever.  Better'n a video of gussied up "WalMart people" on a Sunday.  Old, young.  Oops, old, old, old.  That one, she can still move.  Over there, a dude, got onea them "whyinthehell did you put a circular earring (the size of Rhode island) in your ear?"  Victor, please don't be judgmental.  Sorry. Kinda.

You make me feel like dancin'
I wanna dance the night away
You make me feel like dancin'
Every night and every day
You make feel like dancin'

Robert played.  Seats were hard to come by.  Heap big TV screens for those of us arriving too dadgum late to get a good seat, helped.  Around the second song, folks got up.  They felt like dancin'. <-- there's a red line under that, but I ain't taking the time to peek at Grammarly, I think everyone and their other brother Darrell knows what 'dancin' is.  How it makes one feel.  Scratch that. How MUSIC, makes one feel like dancin'. 

I feel like dancin', dancin'
Dance the night away, yeah
Dancin', dancin', yeah
Dance the night away
I feel like dancin', dancin'
Dance the night away, yeah
Dancin', dancin'

The joint was a hoppin'.  Filled to the gills.  Choo choo trains interrupting, bout as annoying as 11pm fireworks when you're trying to sleep on a July 3rd. Knuckleheads sits right next to the train (tracks of my tears.) Venue is outdoors, weather, simply perfect.

Robert kept playin'.  More jumped up.  Well, most my age, they would get up, groaning like a pirate (arrrrrrrrrrr).. move (slowly) toward the open dance floor.  I think the whippersnappers call it a mosh pit or something like that.  I much prefer, Medicare Pit, it's as easy as A, B and, usually a supplemental.

Anyways, they felt like dancin.

You take me higher
I want to catch a fire

You make me feel like dancin'
I wanna dance my life away
You make me feel like dancin'
Every night and every day
You make feel like dancin'
I wanna dance my life away (you make me feel)
You make feel like dancin'
I wanna dance my life away

I was gonna do a blog with this song, but ask, or mebbe suggest, "Things that make YOU feel like dancing?"  For the short term, will stick with Pork Fritters, good friends, Miller Lites (and Coors and a Bud Light, if ya ain't still protestin' them) and music.

You make feel like dancin'
I wanna dance my life away (every night and every day)
You make feel like dancin'
I wanna dance my life away
You make feel like dancin'
I wanna dance my life away
You make feel like dancin'
I wanna dance my life away

Music done, encore happened, time for trip home, bed... much awaited, hell, twas past ten pm.  I'm old.

Nope, not my buddies.  We stayed at Knuckleheads, talked Glory Days, ie, Glory days, yeah they'll pass you by, Glory days, in the wink of a young girl's eye, Glory days, glory days. Rock it, now  We didn't have rockers, but shoulda, hell by now it was 11pm. Only time I ever see 11pm now is when it's 11 Pee M, tween the bed and the squatter.

Fast forwarding, left joint.  "Anyone feel like going home or going by one more place?"  My brain said "Country road, take me home, to the place I belong" but of course offered "I don't care."

S'more music.  You make me feel like dancin'.  By now, this was our third band.  First band, buncha happy dudes, One mighta had a van for all the junk, the rest prolly pulled up in their low riders, All my friends know the low rider (yeah), The low rider is a little higher (yeah). They wasn't in it for dough, they just enjoy the camaraderie (getting a short break away from wifey) VICTOR YOU MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT! 

Band number two, Robert Cray and crew.  They didn't do low riders. Prolly a limo to Loews, a ritzy hotel, not to be confused with Lowes, whereya buy your top soil. (Gardening makes some feel like dancing.  Nomme.  I want easy chair, Miller Lite after gardening).

Band number three. FUN.  Very.  I really no likey when a coach says "He puts 110% effort in it".. patooey, that's Yogi Berra math.. This band, however, put 110% in it to make us, the geezers and the remaining whippersnappers, happy. The lead singer gal, did aerobics (danced) for what seemed like a hunnerd songs.  Like an alcoholic, but, a music -holic, "Just one more", they played like 7 of em when it was time to go. They's somewhar' inbetween the Low Riders and the Loews stayers in status.. they mebbe travel a bit, stay in Best Westerns, Motel 6's, in hopes of one day moving that up to Hampton Inns - one step at a time, think about Loews later.

I, love, love, love watching folks, when whatever it is sets in, up from their table, walk, gyrate to the front, dance. Some good, some not so good, some really good, all, happy.

Home (Thank goodness Victor, this was boring) at 12:45am, which, by my calculations, the last time I surpassed midnight was New Year's Eve, 1998.

Who is you?  I am Victurd.  Music makes me feel like dancin', but, I suck at it, so, I sit, watch (quite happily, contently), tap ma' foot.

PS.  If you ever question "Should I or should I not get up on the dance floor?" by all means, do.  We had hella fun making fun of people who were horrible dancers like us.

Love, Victurd

 

Dry erase.......

Funny ha ha, are the forgetful times that folks  (including gramps/ganny, sonny boy/girl and grandkiddos that can do no wrong, FORGET, and use a magic (permanent) marker on a dry erase board.  Been there, permanent done that, mebbe U2, eh Bono?

Would life be enhanced.... pun very definitely intended, if we had POLICE and, Every move you make And every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stakeI'll be watching you, but, you could go back and wipe all that dry erase crap, actions, behaviors, things said - off, out, gone, nada.. no proof.  You know, like that one guy said about 'I did not have s*xual relations'... and another took to the dry erase board announcing, "I am not a crook!"

Little Johnny might be the neighborhood idol, Eddie Haskell - Class President, Bart Simpson, alter boy, Bill Buckner, World Series hero.  The mighty Casey, prolly hit a ground rule double, Bob Uecker, NL MVP.

In a serious way, wouldn't it be wonderful to take a rag to the dry erase whiteboard and wipe off cancer, world hunger, diabetes, stroke, heart disease, TB, MS, ALS, Alzheimer's, any, every, affliction, disease.

In a sense, there is a dry erase board in real life.  Second chances. Making amends. "I've done my time."

I hope they don't shoot me, but, I have friends who have been married three times, TO EACH OTHER.  To me, that's dry erase, dry erase, MAGIC MARKER, ie, meant for each other, for life. It's a beautiful thing, beautiful people.

We, our old fart foursome, hole #1 at the golf course, we use a breakfast ball, ie, we hit two shots each off the tee... it ain't legal, it's minor in the world of "we're here for fun, to live, to love, to do the best we can", we're gonna dry erase onea them shots."  Sometimes, when etching on the dry erase board, ya get it right the first time, there ain't no need for a breakfast ball, rag to wipe off the wrong stuff,.. or... as

some site I saw suggested......"There are many household items one can use to clean dry erase boards.. peroxide...  rubbing alcohol...  toothpaste... bathroom cleaners...  hairspray..  baking soda... margarine (works butter than some, hehe).. car wax........  AND........

Sometimes............. "I'm sorry" works.....  "I was wrong" too..  A hug... "I will try my damnedest to never ever do/say that again" followed by behavior of same.

Blurts can hurt.  Oft times, we talk, then think. "I can't believe I did/said that" happens, accompanied by redface.. internally battering one's self... depression... yuck... feeling sh*tty... 

We are human, loan us a rag, wipe it off....  I/we get knocked down, but I get up again.

My name is Victurd, and I'm addicted to Google...............

I found a site with a 100 Awesome Inspirational and Motivational Quotes for Your (Snotnose's) Classroom White Board... I promise not to bore you with all........... (Victor?  Yeah? You preachin' again?  Nuh uh, I'm copy/pastin', plagiarizing crap.  Sorry, but, doing it in dry erase ya know..

"Be hard on yourself and life will be easier."

"Do your little bit of good where you are; its those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world". -Desmond Tutu  (Don't ya mess withy my tutu.)

"The greatest mistake you can make in life is continually fearing you'll make one." Elbert Hubbard.  (Who's the cat that won't cop out, When there's danger all about?, Shaft, right on, or, it's life, (write/live on) and don't fear, magic marker and all.")

The Bee Gee's might say..........… You think that I don't even mean A single word I say It's only words and words are all I have To take your heart away, It's only words and words are all I have, To take your heart away It's only words and words are all I have To take your heart away.

At the enda every ballgame, they post "Runs, Hits, Errors"...  they are gonna happen.  We can't wear duct tape... stay home all the time..  not answer texts, phone calls.  

Get the whiteboard out, have fun with life... friends... loved ones.

Or, you can even write a blog... say something.. then follow with "no, that ain't what I meant" (ie, dry erase) and then say, type what you meant.

Mark............ Set............. Live

Love, Victurd

(If only we could dry erase our two November choices.  Victor, don't get political.  Eh, whatever.)

Uncertainty is the only certainty........... Weight for it........

Criminy, Victurd's off on a tangent again.

Yeah mebbe.  I was reading an article about the NFL's new kickoff rule... (Victor, you talk sports, sports, sport......... what gives?)   I like sports, sorry, kinda, not really.

If you gots Bronco, Charger, Cowboys, Chiefs. da Bears, any kinda NFL shirt, hat, pants in your wardrobe - then, it's for certain you know the new kickoff rule has virtually everyone scratching their head.  For years, it's (the kickoff) has kinda been a yawner, he, with heap strong leg, kicks it outta the end zone giving the receiving team no chance - time after time (very close to damn near a certainty) and the ball would be placed at the 20, play would start from there.

Victor this is boring, but, please tell us just a bit more.  Ok, thanks.  New plan, rule. Kicker stands on his 35, resta the team on the opponent's 40.  Receiving team, at least 9 with a foot on their 35, one (or two) players in the receiving zone (goal line to 20).. ball lands short of 20, comes out to 40. Bounces in (or thru) end zone, comes to 30.  Neither team can move, ceptin the two, until the ball lands in the receiving zone, then, let the good times, and both teams, roll baby, it's on.  Clear, as the inevitable mud.  Radical change. Uncertainty is the only certainty.

Like life eh?

Weight for it.  The reason I wrote that, is, ya just, never ever know what one is going thru, been thru, will "always be there" to go thru.  Weight carried, varying degrees.  Varying tolerances.

I have what's called lymphedema.  It, basically, is where one's lymph nodes leak, the fluids go 'downhill', ie, edema, swelling feet, differn't parts for varying types.  It's difficult for me to stand for a long period.  I can keep it controlled, pretty much, by wearing compression socks 24/7, and, by elevating my legs for 20 minutes or so a couple times a day.  

Close your ears, or, open 'em real big, compared to MOST folk's problems, woes, my lymphedema is 'not a fucking thing', ie, trivial in comparison.  I've had friends, way too many, lose children.  Friends, loved ones, way too many, fight fight fight, round after round of chemo, radiation - some have lost, thankfully, many victorious.  Friends have lost mates, cared for them, many, for years.  Dialysis, insulin shots, pumps, neuropathy, MS, etc. Friends that have lost limbs, eyesight, breathing capacity diminished to almost nil. You name it, sadly, we've all seen it. Radical changes.  Oft times, we never know.

Life is, or at least can be, ugly.

Honest, I ain't preaching.  I'm simply pointing out, niceness is one big answer. Not wholly, to anyone's problems - but, it's a pretty darn good start if we could all, simply be nice to one another.  I slip, you slip.  Humans slip.

We never know, the weight of a person's battle.  One time a doctor asked me, and I can't even remember what my then ailment was... he asked "on a scale of 1 to 10, what's  your pain level?" I can't remember my answer, but, I remember asking him, "How do you know how much one can tolerate??, ie, what may be a 9 on a pain scale to one person, could be only a 2 or 3 to another. I don't remember his answer but I think it was along the lines of ya just never know.

Same with us humanoids.  Uncertainty is the only certainty.  It is hard, impossible, to know the weight, severity, issues, depth of what's going on, gone on, or will go on in one's life.

Nice wins.

Love you, Victurd

PS, I've decided, with tongue, uh huh, in cheek, lymphedema, to me, means I simply must look for, chase, slower women!

I call BS........

If a liar's pants really did catch fire when telling a whopper, the US would be ablaze, not just them trees in Cali.

"Aunt Mildred, I really like your haircut"......... (Good gosh, she got TOO CLOSE to the fan!)

What if......... what if.......  Santa himself, when ciphering 'naughty or nice', had a button he would push for a recorded "HO HO HO, I CALL BS!"  Would a 4 year old know what BS is?  I guess that depends on the upbringing, home vocabulary.

I call BS is sometimes preceded by Homer Simpson's "THE BOY DID IT!"

Googled, found, article "How to tell if someone is lying to you, according to experts."

Whatinthehell ya think makes one an expert?  I'm already skeptical!

About white lies, like Mildred's new do..  “Lying is a very important social skill,” he says. “It greases the wheels of society and makes our relationships work better.” (Them experts say)

Buddy of mine, a local cop.. anytime there was a bar brawl, fight, pool cue swung, 911 called to The Corner Bar...  "I'd interview the 29 customers that were there... the ONLY answer I ever got was "Nope, I didn't see nuttin', I was in the bathroom."  The bathrooms are roughly 4 foot by 4 foot square each.

Experts continued......... "Look for physical signs...  struggling to make eye contact...sweating...  heart rate and BP shoot up.. (Mr. or Mrs. Expert, howinthehell would we know that?).. .salivation will decrease so you might notice gulping or licking the lips...   fidgety....  rubbing, wringing hands.. clear throat.. .tug at hair..."

Band camp, my dad was THE BEST white lie (joke) teller of alltime...ok, my take anyways.. he'd lead you on.. and lead you on... sure, skeptical, it was "Bud Schultze telling a story, he'd GOT ME so many times before.".. where was I going with this?  OH YEAH, he didn't have no hair, well... a combover, but he could never tug at hair, mebbe why he got away with it!

Expert, he/she continued "They'll be oddly chronological" versus someone conversing 'free flowing' with no worry of getting details perfect (if the story has been told before.)   "They'll speak more eloquently"... 

Copied and pasted  (Honest)........ 

Their sentences may be full of qualifiers.. Some lies are indirect:  People omit crucial facts or feign forgetfullness.  In these cases, they'll often answer questions with questions. Consider the famous scene in Seinfeld where Elaine’s friend asks her if she’s having an affair with George. “Why would you think I was having an affair with George?!" a frazzled Elaine responds... (Spoiler alert:  She wasn't, but she was covering for George, who had gone on a date with Marisa Tomei.) Or, when asked if he killed his brother,  a murderer might respond: “Why would I want to hurt Jack?” If you ask a yes-or-no question, pay close attention if you don’t get a straight response.

That red hurts my eyes, I ain't BS'n.

Simon says, I forgot again, sat, read almost ALL the KC rag newspaper, patooey... THEN, remembered that "Good News" crap (Crap, said lovingly, Scout's honor.)  Victor, I call BS.  Yeah, right you are.  I dropped outta Cub Scouts before I ever made it to Boy Scouts 'cause the last merit thingy I needed to do was, go to a church, do a small chore for the Pastor, get his/her signature.  DEATHLY afraid, we hadn't attended church.  I quit.  Uh huh, did.

Simon says, But, switched to Good News.

A farmer in England, allowed a metal detectorist (I had no idea that was a word, honest).. allowed him to go about his land, seeking coins.  Didn't find any, BUT...........

In the early 70's, the farmer's father (now 95, doing great) had been out feeding the cows.  He was wearing a Rolex he'd bought himself on his 21st birthday (today's value, $5,700) and, uh huh, he didn't notice that the band had broken... did, a bit later.. retracked his pasture steps... nope..  no Rolex...

"I remember the day I lost it, I'd been out early with the cows.  It was very cold so I'd had my hands in my pockets, but at some point I must have been feeding a cow and it slipped off or the strap had broken.  We looked everywhere, but, I already knew it was gone and probably been eaten by one of the cows."

Detectorist enters here........."AHA... lookey what I found!"   Yep, his Rolex.   The face was now greenish, but, it had not rusted up.  "It shows how well it was made to survive 50-plus years in a field.  The cow could have eaten it with a mouthful of grass."

"I'm most grateful to Liam (the detectorist) who found the watch.  He could have quite easily not owned up to his discovery."

Apparently, when he lost the watch, he was not in the field with the bull, so, here, there is no calling BS.

I guess, "I call cowsh*t!" works.

Forward by George Costanza, Tony Soprano, Walter White, Saul Goldman, Eddie Haskell and Otis (from his cell in Mayberry). 

Simon says, blog edited by, Carly Simon, Neil Simon, Simon Cowell

If you find yourself struggling a tad with eye contact... sweaty... heart racing... dry throat... fidgety... tugging on your hair.................

It's time to CUD'L  up with a loved one, tell 'em "You look great!".... and have a hamburger.

Love, fidgets, hair tugs, Victurd