Just Type Amen

If you agree just type in “go away you ignorant prick and find a life.”  Where are these Internet Ninny’s finding all this crap?  Look at this picture posted below and tell me if you see Merell Streep.

                                        Thought so.

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Don’t You Just Love The Rain

Don Ballcap

Friday the 13th, you don’t really believe in that hokey ****?  

In the process of doing the dirty deed, Lawrence failed to notice an approaching police car and was unaware of his audience until Officer Brenda Taylor approached him.  It was an unusual situation, that’s for sure,’ said Officer Taylor.  ‘I walked up to Lawrence and he’s just banging away at this pumpkin.’ Officer Taylor went on to describe what happened when she approached Lawrence.
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Tribute to the new king

Here lately I am seeing a solid stream of Oklahoma politicians, political wanna-be’s and other social miscreants making a bee line to Washington to pay homage or tribute to our newly elected President.   As my Daddy used to say, “they are not fooling anyone, they are all lining up at the trough.”

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Long Black Train

2196254-crybabywithsadfaceI believe that inherently in all of us, is a embedded DNA code, the God-given right to the pursuit of happiness, and at the same time, there is equally the God-given right to the pursuit of unhappiness. 13th of the month, another week of Mondays.  Don’t go riding on that Long Black Train.

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That Is The Way Things Roll …

California and the Bay Area. I am sitting here in the quiet tranquil morning time, drifting off, and thinking back to the “Good Ole Days” one of the luxuries of life I can still afford. Stirring up the dust, blowing the cobwebs out of my brain … Turn right and head on down Harder Road or up to Mission Blvd, maybe to the Plunge, how does that sound?  Maybe walk the long trail to the back of the park, check out the hollow dark cavities of my mind …

Sitting out front of Dad’s house, on his redwood fence, smoking a Marlboro, the cool breeze coming in off the bay, carrying the smell of tomato’s from the Hunt Cannery on B Street.

Saturday’s (and sometimes in the middle of the week, don’t tell Mrs. Ormsby) on the beach in Santa Cruz, the surf pounding, a gull swoops down to steal a potato chip off the blanket. An ice cold bottle of wine at the end of the string, buried in the sand.

A teenage girls’ husky laugh in the dark in the balcony of the Hayward downtown.  Two slow dances with Marylnn Matteson-Stith at the La Vista Cafeteria on Friday night.  Squatted, Indian fashion, on a boulder in the Sierra Nevada’s just outside Lake Tahoe.  A sky full of white wispy clouds and dragon flies.

A stolen kiss at the Grove after a Lancer’s Football game.

The smell of fresh cut Alfalfa wafting into the cab of the pickup in the valley outside of Manteca.  12 years old, sitting on top of the Hayward Hills, looking west to San Francisco, and seeing the city clearly, along with the Bay Bridge. Remembering back then, how it used to be, not like it is now, with the myriads of people and the pollution.

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Sitting in the shade of a lofty majestic pine beside a deep hole in the Truckee River.  Hooking a big fish on a trip to Clear Lake.  Sleeping on a blanket on the grass in Golden Gate Park.  Working as a pool hand at the old swimming pool at Tennyson one summer.

Back in the day, back in the day.
Need to wrap this up, I am getting carried away.

Time to go, I have rambled on for long enough. Having sufficiently increased my word-count, I shall now retire, only to fight again, on another day. Back to the real world … I have rats to kill … checks to pay …

Life, what happens when you are not looking.

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Jus Sayin 1209

copDo you remember the “Good Old Days”
It hasn’t always been this way.
If you are not satisfied with the police response in your town next time you get in a bind, call a Crackhead

Found myself considering purchasing a new toad,
which is slang for a tow-car in the RV community

So I Googled the word … “Hummer” …

Man, you would not believe what came up!

Did you know if you trim the feathers on a Goose on one wing only the bird will fly in circles all day long
I can fondly recall my mother saying
“Donnie stop running in circles or I will nail your other foot to the floor!”
Kind of brings a tear to your eye, don’t it?

I am now off to watch some documentary I DVR’ed about sex workers in India
Not that I am a pervert or anything, but I really like to run it to the end
and then watch it backwards.

I just love it when they give the John all his money back.

Jus Sayin

Secrets of The Turkey Hotline

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My wife amazes me.  Every now and then she will make a sojourn into MY world, entering the shop like a seasoned Drill Sargent from Ft. Polk Louisiana, she will walk from one end of my shop to the other.  With the eye of an Eagle and precision migratory homing skills, she dissects my shop. Pointing out obvious discrepancies, “Is this new?” … “Where did that come from?” … Is this bus stuff?”

The interrogation continues and I do my best to dummy up, all the while desperately hugging my Krispy Kreme Donut box secretly filled with LED lights. At sixty-seven years of age I have become a smuggler in my own country, such a sad lot in life, especially for a veteran.  So the saga continues … We go back into the house and turn on the tube.

Testosterone is what I am after. Ice Road Truckers, American Loggers, Gold Rush, NASCAR, I want to implode something in Minneapolis or some other place back east.  Maybe a football game … Just about anything.

The absolute last thing I don’t want to watch is Paula Deen explain how she found this old dead turkey on some backwoods, dirt road in Southern Alabama.  How she, soaked it in a secret sauce for the last nine hours, and then explains in a deep southern drawl that would make a Back-water Craw-Daddy cringe in fear .. “when we’re done girls it will taste just scrumptious!” 

Stop torturing me woman!  

When was the last time you heard anyone, male or female, for that matter say something like: “I just love the rich hearty beefy flavor” or “Today we are going to deliver a juicy turkey, and savory dressing, and you will get a spicy crantastic WOW from my sauce.” 

Face it, people just don’t talk that way in America.  And one more thing stop BS’ing me Paula, we all know it’s gonna taste “just like Chicken.”

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Click on the bird and crank it up! 

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Hope And A Prayer

flagToday I am dedicating a couple of hundred words to the subject of Faded Dreams.  (If you want to bail on it now, I would understand) 

As I understand it, there is a school of thought that says as we age, we tend to remember things of the past and do not necessarily look ahead to the future. 

This could very well be true in my case, as I have a tendency to look back on life now, instead of wonder what might lie ahead of me, which I have to admit in all honesty, often scares the Be-Jesus out of me.  

The Cracker Boy has said to me, “You ought to start a nostalgia page.”  He could be right.

A friend of mine in Reno, Nevada made a comment the other day that has kind of stuck with me all week long.  “He said that we had most likely lived thru America’s Greatest Moments, and that particular time in history, is now long gone. “

And then he put it this way.  He said it was:  A time that was truly special to him, and most likely would never be seen or experienced again.  Both of us being “Baby Boomers” his comment at the time, made a lot of sense.

We grew up in a time when America was stretching her muscles, reaching for and achieving great heights, as a country and a society.  When Hollywood made a movie that had moral character and backbone, when a politician ran for office because he actually thought he could improve things.  We were growing then, we were making things, and the world bought our goods because they were built with pride by a people who knew who they were.

Bring back any memories?

We didn’t have fast food, we had an occasional trip to the Hamburger Stand and real french fries, not all this pre-cooked frozen crap.  Most of the time, supper was a meal prepared at home by Mom, it wasn’t fast, but generally it was always on time.  And if you didn’t like what was on the menu, you could sit there and think about it until you did.  

At suppertime, you didn’t sit there like zombies, your face planted in some electronic device, you had real conversations.

At that time in life, you had ONE SET of parents.  People who plopped down $10K to buy a house on a government loan, a father that went to school on the GI Bill, who wore jeans on the weekend and never heard of a credit card.

You did not ride to school in a car, you walked, if you were lucky, you had a bike to ride.  Plenty of homework and frustration and fear, I still remember having to get under my desk for a “Nuclear Attack Drills” and wondering, “How in the hell is this going to save me?”

We didn’t have a television in our home until I was around 11 years old, and it was black and white, and the remote was either me or my sister.  Later on came color television, with Hoss, Ben, Little Joe and Adam all of them lost each week on Bonanza.  We had Leave It To Beaver, Lucille Ball, Jack Benny and no MTV Jackass. 

Pizzas were not delivered to our home . . . but milk, bread and fruit and vegetables were.  We used to have an ice cream guy come around, we could not afford the ice cream, but every now and then, he would allow us to scoop up a handful of chipped ice.  Which on a hot summer day was often just as good as the real deal.

All newspapers were delivered by boys and all boys delivered newspapers. I delivered a newspaper, seven days a week. Had to get up at 6 o’clock every morning and I had to keep up my grades, bad grades, no newspaper route.  

Which meant no movie money, no candy bars, and no frills.

In the summer we played baseball at the park until the sun went down, in the winter it was football or stomp ball in the rain.  We were outside, we were not overweight, we did not have onset diabetes or polio.  We were living the good life and life was being good to us.

What you remember I suppose, reflects how old that you are.  

How many items you recall is the image of what you have become.  Headlight dimming-switches on the floor of the car.  Ignition switches on the dashboard.  Three speed column shifts, four on the floor.  Using hand signals for cars without turn signals.  How about those big old, ca-chunk, tape players, cannot remember the name of them right now (8 tracks?).

Fake Sweet cigarette candy in a box.  Coffee shops with juke boxes right there in the booth, twenty-five cents, and you got three plays.  All of it music your Dad could not stand, an added bonus.  Skating at the Roller Rink, a kiss in the dark at the school dance. 

Home milk delivery in glass bottles and before bottles, poured into a jug that was left at the front door each morning. Party lines on the telephone.  Girl Scouts and Bluebirds hawking cookies at the front door.  News reels before the movie and not being old enough to sit in the balcony.  Your sister practicing tap dance steps on a hardwood floor.  Skates with a skate key and wooden baseball bats.

TV test patterns that came on at night after the last show and were there until TV shows started again in the morning. (There were only 2 channels.).  Transistor radios and four D size batteries.  Sling shots.  Vinyl records (33-45-78).  Stereo Hi-Fi’s.  Butch Hair cuts (and lot’s of Jelly Wax to make ‘em stand up).

Metal ice trays with levers, a Dr. Pepper bottle with a silver cap full of holes (Mom’s water bottle because she did not have a steam iron). Long drives on the weekend, just for the fun of it, and 18 cent gas.  Gay meant you were happy.

Blue flashbulbs and Brownie Box cameras.  Dick Clark and American Bandstand.  Wash Tub wringers for the chammy’s at the gas station.  A pack of Marlboro’s rolled up in the sleeve of your T-shirt … And the Viet Nam draft.

Perhaps my friend in Reno is right, it could be that the best of it, is now firmly entrenched behind us.  It has gotten to the point where we cannot find one soul who knows how to (lip sync) sing our National Anthem or anyone of strong moral fiber to step up and say … Stop it, this is not right.

It appears that our means of salvation as a nation now is possibly divine intervention and nothing else.  We seem to be running on a hope and a prayer … and not much more than that.

OOO

Possibly Related:  Red Hill

 

WordPress.Com Mumbo Jumbo

Hi there,

Can you please provide a link to the post that is having this problem? Does this happen with all new posts?

Thanks,
Heather
Automattic | WordPress.com

So I patiently outline and provide specific items that need to be addressed. I answer all questions to the best of my knowledge.

—– Original Message —–

From: “Heather @ WordPress.com” <support@wordpress.com>

To: <donsmith@cox.net> Sent: Monday, July 14, 2008 8:32 PM Subject: [WordPress #FOA-595595]: disappearing posts.

Hi Don, Thanks for your updates on this issue. We’ve created a new FAQ to help clarify how the tag surfer works and potential reasons why posts may not display there. One or more of these items is likely the cause for the issues you’re encountering:

http://faq.wordpress.com/2008/07/15/my-post-doesnt-show-up-in-the-tag-list-what-gives/

Also note that multiple attempts to push a post to the top of the tag surfer by changing the publication date could also be the cause.

Thanks,
Heather
Automattic | WordPress.com

Well, that is a nice theory, but it doesn’t hold water.  First, I am not using the tag surfer to locate the posts, I just go to the category and look for the post, it is there and then it is not there.  Second, it often doesn’t post at all.

There is no reason for it to post some of the material 17 posts down in the page, displaying it some three weeks later, AND NOT DISPLAYING IT ON THE DAY IT WAS PUBLISHED, it should in my opinion go to the top of the page, not buried deep within it.

At the very least …. It ought to go somewhere.

Somehow I just “knew that this would work out to be ME instead of wordpress” and I am not surprised at all.  First I am told that it was because there were too many tags on the posts, so I cut the tags back, and the problem remains.  Now it appears that I am the problem?  What a load of crap that is.

As for “pushing it with multiple dates” that is BS too.  I was just trying to make it appear, hell it wasn’t even showing up most of the time.  It is a sorry deal, no two ways about it and “Frequently Asked Questions” is not a solution it is a cop out.
To: <donsmith@cox.net>

Sent: Tuesday, July 15, 2008 8:32 PM  Subject: [WordPress #FOA-595595]: disappearing posts.

Hi Don,

Tag pages show the best, most recent posts – not all of them. To ensure that future posts continue to show up on tag pages, please follow the guidelines on http://faq.wordpress.com/2008/07/15/my-post-doesnt-show-up-in-the-tag-list-what-gives/

Again, the more relevant the post is to the tag, the more likely it is to show up in the listings. You may want to assess the relevance of the “recent” tag in relationship to your post’s content.

Thanks,
Heather
Automattic | WordPress.com

Recent: 1. having happened not long ago: having happened or appeared not long ago the recent birth of her daughter. 2. modern: from current times or the very near past recent political trends

Random: 1. without a pattern: done, chosen, or occurring without a specific pattern, plan, or connection random testing for drugs. 2. lacking regularity: with a pattern or in sizes that are not uniform or regular a wall constructed of random stones

I know the definition of the words, thanks. That didn’t help a bit. It must be nice to just keep dancing all around the problem, that way you don’t have to admit you have a problem, and heaven forbid, try and fix it.

“Tag pages show the best, most recent posts – not all of them.” Your words not mine.

Why even have a page if you are not going to post it? Who determines what “the best is?”  When you post something (best or otherwise) and it “buries it 17 deep” that is not recent, that is plain pathetic.

When a post goes up, and then after a period of time, disappears, but the others remain, that tells me that YOU have a problem, and it is NOT the author of the post. I also find it a little coincidental, that after squealing like a stuck pig, four out of five of my posts actually survived one day and that only one disappeared yesterday.

That has to be some kind of new wordpress.com record, might want to put that on the global dashboard tomorrow.

I will admit that in the beginning because of my lack of understanding, I may have caused some of the problems with the tags (I had way too many) and that could have been part of it. In my defense I will admit to seeing multiple postings here with more than the 12 tags, I have counted as high as 18 on one post.

I have actually seen 25 posts in order by one author, which is tantamount to spam, but it is evidently tolerated.  But that is a completely different issue. My problem remains, after making the necessary corrections the problem is still here, so I seriously doubt it is anything on this end of the line.

I write about life, recent happenings in America or where I live, I have occasionally have a random thought on subjects that are affecting me and those I know.  So you tell me where to put it? You tell me how to tag it?  (And your “first choice” doesn’t count)

You ask for “specifics” and when you are provided with them, you choose to ignore them or blow it off. But this latest answer here (or non answer), this is just verbal masturbation and nothing more.

I might as well be talking to robots.

So Heather at support (which in this case is laughable at best):

Hi There.  I have posted 282 posts on this site since March of this year, and have received 360 comments from over 10,191 people around the world.  Which I believe is a noteworthy accomplishment, considering I was “doing it all wrong.”  Now I am going to post this and hopefully it will go somewhere ……. Where ever that might be?

Now you can go back to your personal emails or video games and forget about the rest of it. Don’t send me any more correspondence with your “suggested reading lists” which are basically useless.

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Tags: Please Read. Please Post. Please put this three pages deep so no one will ever see it. Please remit your annual $30 payment for a crappy system that refuses to work in the order or fashion that it promises.

DS