Category Archives: Opinions

Old News, What’s in a Name?, & Jerry 3

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Sports events are escalating with the addition of about 4-5 NCAA football bowl games per day which I find to be OK. Though I’m not a fan of most of the teams who are playing, it’s fun to watch all that commotion as they struggle to be the best at whatever bowl they are playing in. Then there is the NFL which is winding down to another Super Bowl. The BIG one for me, of course, is the Rose Bowl game on New Year’s Day. That will be Oregon and Florida State going at it to advance to the National Title game against either Alabama or Ohio. Should be fun.

All this football causes me to think about team names and how the whole world seemed to get all upset about Indian names being used in a way that has been so demeaning all these years without anyone saying anything about it. That’s kind of like a woman stepping forward to report how Bill Cosby abused them 30-40 years ago, like all the sudden it’s too unbearable to keep a secret any longer. Or, the legion of altar boys who were abused by trusted ministers and pastors. I know, I’m trivializing those situations, but it astounds me that such events are hidden for so long, until one person steps forward. Then another, and another, until it becomes a HUGE problem because the media just eats it up and ensures that everyone is aware of the problem multiple times a day, every day, until a plane crashes somewhere.

So, then team names all the sudden became a problem because they diminish Native Americans. Most notable, of course, is the NFL’s Washington Redskins. National news, right? So, I propose that we take a look at all team names, not just those related to cultures. Like the New Orleans Saints. Seems like the Vatican should be up in arms about that one because there is no depiction of any of the many saints on advertising, or uniform items leaving one to doubt the validity of their association with the Catholic Church, which is obvious because of the name.

How about the Dallas Cowboys? Shouldn’t REAL cowboys be upset about that name? There is nothing about the team uniforms or logos that have anything to do with cowboys which leaves fans in limbo, allowed to draw their own conclusions about what kind of cowboys the owner is talking about. Everyone knows that only the media knows whats good and bad about all this.

Then there’s the Chargers, Packers, Bears, Panthers, Jaguars, Dolphins, Eagles, Broncos, Seahawks, Rams, etc. Man, if I was an animal of some sort, I’d either be upset because of the ambiguity of those names, or upset because I’m an animal without a team. Like a Chipmunk, or a Rabbit. Maybe the Cleveland Cows. That would be better than the Browns, which is about as undefined as one can be. What about all the other colors? Shouldn’t they be included somehow?

Maybe we could just use body parts as names for teams … like the Miami Knuckles, New York Arm Pits, Denver Dicks, San Diego Scapulas, Seattle Knee Caps, Carolina Cartilage, Dallas Digits, San Francisco Fingers, Pittsburgh Groins … OK, I’m outta names. Gotta quit before I work myself into a frenzy with this stuff because it drives me nuts. Seriously, who cares? Well, in my examples, perhaps Denver would … then, again, maybe not. We will probably never know. It is my humble opinion that those who get upset about team names are people who look for reasons to be upset about lots of things for no apparent reason.

Sorry for all of that. Maybe I should write more about stuff I know something about, like raisins, or dirt, but that would be incredibly boring.

To end I must report that Jerry 2 is alive and well. I know this is true because he called me to make sure I knew that, specifically. It was good to know.

My Wife

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She’s the love of my life, the best friend I’ve ever had, and the person who completes me. She also makes sure I smell good when I leave the house, for any reason, that I wear the proper clothes for the reason I leave, and that I have a list of things I’m supposed to do while I’m out and about. She makes me go golfing a lot, cooks me incredible meals, does all my laundry, irons my shirts, and feeds all the birds. All I do is mow the yard once in a while and get the oil changed in her Buick when needed. I feel that I don’t pull my share of the load, but I’ve learned that I shouldn’t volunteer to help. I should just wait until she asks and when she does, I’m always there. She’s more than earned it.

Today is her birthday so help me in wishing her a really good one. I’m not allowed to say how old she is, but she was born in 1946.

I love you, Diane. Thanks for all you do.

Me

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Prejudice

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Why do you suppose it is that some of our more notable Americans, who fight all comers to supposedly abolish racism, simply ensure that racism remains alive and well in America by stoking the fires that ignite prejudice? Job security would be my guess. If they were truly dedicated to fighting for their cause, they would look at both sides of an issue before immediately jumping on the band wagon of those who, as chance would have it, are the same color they are.

Go figure.

Commercials

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Considering my advanced age, and my desire to improve my health, I’ve been paying more attention to all the advertisements I’ve previously ignored. Oh, I hear bits and pieces but mostly they flit through my brain mostly as white noise. You know, you hear it but not to the point where you actually paid attention. Lately, however, the white noise is fading and identifiable words are filtering through to the part of my brain that understands them. I’m not sure where that part is but suspect it’s somewhere a little above, and between my ears somewhere. Just makes sense. But, then, the eyeballs are connected to the back of the brain instead of the part right behind the eyes themselves. Perhaps that’s because the hearing part was already using that space so the eyeballs had to be rerouted to the back. Kinda like a detour.

Anyway, the words I’m starting to string together into coherent memories from the commercials are a bit disconcerting for me. Perhaps you have the same feeling. Take this one, for example … it’s for a seemingly benign salve for foot fungus that’s supposed to clean up your toenails. the commercial itself is fairly short, but the speed-speaking person listing the list of possible side effects is quite entertaining. It goes something like this …

The list of possible side effects includes, but is not limited to, the possibility of liver and kidney failure unless the salve is applied between 4-5 am on a Sunday morning, severe brain damage if ingested by licking the finger applying the salve within 30 seconds of application, a Viagra induced erection lasting less than 15 minutes, whether or not it was used, heart failure if do, blurred vision, impaired hearing, and possible death if you don’t get a haircut right away.

Pretty much every commercial, about anything, ends with a similar list of ill effects but in a different order. Makes me want to run out and buy stuff like that right away.

And you?

Ferguson

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I am sitting safely in my chair this evening, waiting for the the grand jury decision from Ferguson, Missouri. I’m not waiting for the verdict with the same expectations as those who live in that town. Personally, I don’t think it’s going to matter what the decision is because I believe, either way, that town will continue to suffer the consequences of the decisions made by one troubled teenager. If the officer involved is exonerated, I suspect the town will burn due to the perceived injustice. If the officer involved is deemed guilty of misconduct, I fear the town will burn as the result of celebration by people who probably don’t even live in Ferguson. A pretty sad state of affairs, I’d say. Really sad for both families involved, and sad for the town.

Sad.

Dermatology, iPhone’s, & Blood Blisters

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Today Diane took me to my dermatology appointment at Good Samaritan Hospital in Portland where the doc caused me excruciating pain as he burned off a fairly large number of suspect moles from various parts of my body. I was very disappointed to learn how many pain receptors there are behind my ear lobe. Maybe yours are different, but I doubt it.

Eventually the pain went away and the doc helped me up off the floor and allowed me to exit his facility without further injury. To celebrate my release we went to lunch at Home Town Buffet in Beaverton. It’s an all you can eat place, but I didn’t. I could have eaten lots more.

On the way home we stopped at Fred Meyers in Scappoose. I bought a new case for the new iPhone 6 that’s supposed to be on its way to me.

In case you’re curious about what’s been going on for the past bunch of days you’re out of luck because I don’t remember right at this moment. Not all of it, anyway. There is a memorable moment I had alone while chipping through some really old cement in order to make room for a new fence post when I received a career ending blood blister on my left pinky. It really hurt and had something to do with a small sledge-hammer and a wedge meant for splitting wood that I was using as a tool to dismantle portions of a cement curb. It worked better than I thought it would. Turns out it works pretty good for splitting really hard rocks, too. Who knew?

Now I’m tired and must quit.

The News, our House, Ducks, and Ozzie

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 Seems like the most newsworthy “stuff” this past week has been about the Pistorius trial, ISIS “bravery”, and the NFL Commissioner’s bad call. I suspect all of those are a handy way for the media to deflect attention from actually newsworthy “things”. Not being an expert of such matters, I’m not in any kind of position to expand on what those “things” are, but surely there’s something else. Well, there is the pregnant Princess who’s having some pretty terrible morning sickness issues, but I bet there thousands of pregnant ladies in the world experiencing the same terrible malady. Just because they aren’t princess’s doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a little bit of the limelight. Right?

Pistorius is guilty of man slaughter, or the South African equivalent. He shot his girlfriend in the safety of his own home, and should go to jail but probably won’t because he’s missing some parts and was an Olympian. Got it. Let’s move on.

ISIS continues to terrorize the world with its unique display of bravery by beheading the third journalist who had the misfortune of getting captured. In retaliation, the news keeps showing drones blowing up the same two pick up trucks over and over and over. That’ll teach them, don’t you think? I know, there’s lot’s going on that even the news facilities don’t know about but you’d think they could be a little bit more creative with their stock war footage. Maybe they could show something from the Gulf War. Who’d know? Just give us a little variety, OK?

I mean, really, why is it so important that everyone know that NFL front office folks are less than honorable at times? So Rice slugged his wife and only got a 2-game suspension and didn’t spend even one minute in jail. That’s right up there with child-beaters who might wind up with a few months in jail and mandatory anger management counseling. I’ll go out on a limb with the NFL, here, and postulate that Rice is totally guilty, not so much for the deed, but for getting caught. He’s not the only one guilty of this offending activity.

The Princess? Enough said about her. I say leave her alone and let her suffer in peace.

Over the past couple of weeks, or so, Diane and I have been busy painting our home. I may have mentioned this previously, but I don’t care. I’m telling you about it again because it’s a task that’s wearing out my tiny little shoulders and arms as i dangle precariously from the top end of a 12 foot extension ladder extended to about 20 feet. It’s exciting and scary at the same time, kinda like sipping hot and sour soup at a rarely patronized Chinese restaurant in an unfamiliar city. Who knows that kind of outcome either of them will produce? Fortunately, I did not place Diane in the precarious position of having to call 911 to deal with the kind of injuries one incurs when testing the force of gravity from 20 feet up. I didn’t spill any paint, either. That’s the real success. Now all that remains to be painted are the garage doors. They are the only red items left.

Last Monday Ozzie had his teeth cleaned. His breath was pretty horrible from the barnacles growing on his teeth so we, and his Primary Care Doctor, felt it was probably a good idea to get rid of them. During the process on dogs, unlike with people, bad teeth are removed as necessary. Ozzie lost three of them because there was hardly anything left of them as most of the roots had been reabsorbed by his little body. We have them in a little tube and plan to add Ziggy’s tooth so it will make a nice necklace for Oz.

He was at the vet’s office pretty much all day and we picked him up shortly after 3 pm. They gave him some morphine for the pain so he was a little wild-eyed for a while and chose to hold up in his kennel for the remainder of the day. We had pain meds and antibiotics for him, but they were in pill form so the only way he was going to get them was to eat something … out of a bowl. There was absolutely no way I was going to hazard my fingers by sticking them in his mouth to administer a pill. Little as he is, with those tiny little teeth, he bites all the way to the bone.  Since the teeth were now clean and polished, it would have been easier for him to do that. Consequently, he didn’t get his meds for three days because he wouldn’t eat. Apparently he didn’t want to get his nice clean teeth dirty. We tried, of course, but he chose to just sit in his kennel, except for an occasional trip outside, dwindling away to a mere 5-6 lbs, or so.  Through it all he had a cold, wet nose, so figured he was probably OK. Still, I called his PCP and arranged to get liquid versions of his pain meds and antibiotics. He got his first dose last night which was a challenge. This morning he got another dose but I tricked him by not flinching when he showed me his Elvis lip, which he does to warn of imminent attack. Instead, I stuck the little syringe dose thing in his mouth and pressed the plunger. Boy was he surprised. Twice. Now I have to do it again tonight. Hopefully he hasn’t figured out my secret. He actually at food today, too, so we know he’s on the mend.

I only worked outside for a couple of hours this morning then terminated all activity because the temperature soared from an early 53 to 97 or so pretty quickly. I still need to paint some, but it’s hard to do when the paint dries on the roller before there’s time to apply it. Really makes a mess. So, we must wait for a cooler day. It will have to be before Wednesday because it’s supposed to rain that day.

Diane and I watched the Oregon Ducks dominate the Wyoming Cowboys 48-14 earlier. Then she left so I’ve been trapped here in my chair having to watch whatever comes on because she didn’t give me the remote before she departed.

Hope she comes back soon because I’m getting hungry watching all these commercials.

Good News, Bad News, & Hotness

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Those of you who know me, or have read the frivolous things I’ve written about, understand I’m not the guy who routinely goes down a serious road. I work more on the positive side of life because I like it better there. It’s more fun and, I hope, provides an opportunity for you to join me there, for a moment, and find a reason to smile. I have no other motive. It’s really that simple. I’m here to counteract just a little bit of the negative aspects of living on planet Earth, deflecting them into outer space, replacing them with happy thoughts.

For just a moment …

It’s brief, I know, and won’t last, because I’m just one old guy pecking away on his computer, trying his best to get along. In order for efforts like mine to make even a tiny impact on anything, we’d need a really large herd of old guys with metaphorical peckers like mine, doing what I do. Better yet, a really large herd of girls and guys, young or old.

I share that bit of information because of recent events in Ferguson, a suburb of St. Louis, that hit home for some reason. I’m sure most everyone in the USA has seen something on the news about this. What happened isn’t unique, but it’s still very sad and far more satisfying for news folks to share than the 100’s of good things that no doubt happened in that same neighborhood, before and after the reported event.

What kind of response would you expect for a newspaper, or newsletter, that reported only good events and things? I thought I might take a stab at culling the internet for happy “stuff” and make a newsletter to share all of it. But, gee!, it’s already been done.

Check out these links.

Good News … Happy News … Positive News … Amazing News

Kinda makes the world a better place, doesn’t it?

On a more personal note, I must report that I’ve been trapped in the house for the last few days because of the weather. Diane won’t let me go outside to work because it’s too hot and she doesn’t think she could drag me back inside before I melt if I were to pass out. So, I’m stuck in the house until the temps drop back into the low 70’s. That means I’m going to get a fairly long vacation and won’t be able to go outside to take care of some waterproofing issues until it starts to rain. Makes sense, right?

Now I’m going to watch TV for a while. Not news.

Beware !

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Just so you know, danger, in the form of a cute blond girl, lurks the hi-ways and by-ways of our little city.

Lydia got her driver’s permit.

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I’m confident that she will do just fine and obey all the rules but feel it’s only fair that everyone know. I’m sure she’s been warned to watch out for all of you, too.

Golf, Baseball, & Thieves

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Yesterday I was forced to participate in a golf tournament at the Wildwood Golf Course which everyone in the country knows is located on the West side of Highway 30 not too far past the truck scales on the way to Portland from Scappoose. Most everyone of importance also knows that Jack & Wynette had their wedding reception in the Wildwood Club House which was located right next to Highway 30. At some point in the future, it mysteriously burned down, the golf course receded back into the forest, lost & forgotten, and was ultimately resurrected and expanded into an 18-hole course that careens through a small valley, and up and down hills. The current owner is, in my opinion, an abject jerk, so I don’t go there often. I may never go there again, for that reason. One person mentioned that he’s a “money whore,” which was confirmed by his willingness to insert walk-on golfers into the midst of the tournament we were involved in. Nice.

The tournament was a version of best ball, and it was gratifying to me that a couple of my balls were deemed best. That just means that I hit my ball better than those in our foursome so everyone was allowed to hit their next shot from that spot. I even made a few pretty good chip shots onto the green. My foursome was composed of Doug & Jim, high school classmates, and George, a person none of us had ever met until tee time. All in all, it was a good day.

On the way home I followed Doug home so I could check Carolyn’s computer to see why her Gmail wouldn’t appear. She wasn’t there when we arrived, but her computer was energized so I hit a few keys, clicked the Gmail icon and it popped up quite smartly. When Doug saw this he went, “Hmmm. She must have figured it out.” Then we sat in the living room and visited for a while. Then I went home to play in the dirt for a while before cleaning up to attend Lydia’s soccer game.

Before getting dirty, I took my mid day pills. Shortly thereafter, we went to Diane’s Mom’s, Jean’s, house for a visit where I promptly fell asleep. Then we went to the soccer game which wound up in a 2-2 tie. They played against the 14U rec league team and Lydia played goalie the whole game. Since it was a practice game, and most of those on the 14U team are in-coming St. Helens freshmen this year, the goalies switched sides at half time. The second half Lydia had to block against the varsity team and that’s when she gave up the two goals. But, she blocked about 20 shots. She did good.

Back at home, I had a hard time staying awake so decided to go to bed. It was then I discovered that I had taken my sleeping pill, the dreaded Ambien, somewhere around 3 pm. So, the erratic behavior Diane witnessed was totally not my fault. I slept through the night anyway, which surprised me.

This morning I got back into my morning nap routine and didn’t go out to get dirty and sweaty until 10 am or so. Consequently, I only got about 4 hours in before it was deemed time to eat lunch. We had Taco Bell tacos, always a favorite.

While writing this, I got a text from brother Jack, who is in Arizona with his first wife at this time, watching Sage pitch against a California team at the Cincinnati Reds training field in Phoenix. Sage, as you may all recall, is Maryssa’s boyfriend who is going to play for the North Carolina Tarheels after he graduates from high school next year. He’s a talent to watch. Click his name to check him out – Sage Diehm. A little more research revealed that Sage is the first Idaho baseball player ever recruited by North Carolina. Last text I got from Jack indicated that one of Sage’s teammates had hit a triple, driving in one run so it was 1-0. Nothing since so I have no idea what’s going on now. The suspense is killing me, but I’m not going to beg for an update. Nope. Just not going to do it.

I’m going to have to go rent a large piece of equipment from Don’s Rental so I can move some dirt around a little, leveling the area next to garage in preparation of installing a load of gravel that doesn’t squish up when a car drives over it. That’s wheat we have right now is squishy rocks. They are all round, which was intentional, to allow for good drainage into the pipe I installed some time back. Now I want to park something on it, like one of the old motor homes, or my truck, and need non-squishy gravel so it will remain level. To get the equipment home means I must spend a bit of time trouble shooting my truck to find out which ignition wire I dislodged the last time I drove it so I can get it started. I’ve already cleared this event as one that isn’t technically “working outside” since I’ll be inside the truck, so I’m good to go. Just need to work up a little more motivation. Might even see about getting the old ’73 RV fired up. Or not.

You may have heard about the crime spree going on around town these last few months. Thieves are going around during the day, knocking on doors so see who’s home. Those who aren’t get robbed. Those who are home are asked questions about someone they are looking for, wondering if they are inside. Last I heard, about 60 homes had been robbed. Sadly, the spree has extended to our quiet little dead-end street. Since we have Panzee, a large barking dog who greets family, friends, and strangers with the same intimidating welcome, I doubt seriously if anyone would be motivated to break into the house in our absence. But, you just never know. To be on the safe side, we decided it would probably be a good idea to lock all the doors, to everything, when we leave. In the past we’ve failed to do that many times.

So, any of you who may be compelled to visit our house when we’re aware be forewarned that Panzee, Breezie, and Ozzie have been training as a team to take down anyone they don’t know. It will work like this … you enter the house, via any access, and Panzee will make a concerted effort to rip your testicles off while Breezie takes care of your eyelids. Oz will gnarl his way around your ankles, severing your Achilles tendon, allowing it to snap up into the calf of your leg accompanied by an incredible amount of mind-numbing pain, ensuring you cannot flee the scene. In the unlikely event you are of the female persuasion, Panzee will go for your neck and face. If you have large breasts, you may want to wear a really tight sports bra because they’ll probably get in her way. Breezie’s and Oz’s missions do not change. I do not feel there’s a need to post this information outside the house because the dogs will make their presence known at the first hint of a foreign presence.

In the event you are still compelled to pay us a visit, please ensure you have the name of your next of kin somewhere on your body. Since the back of your shoulders probably will remain undisturbed, it would be a great place to tattoo that information. Alternatively, if you are opposed to tattoos, please have your partner in crime use a permanent black marker to help you write this information on the inside band of your underwear. If you don’t wear underwear, the waistband of your pants will suffice.

Better yet, just ensure you have proper ID on entry.

Good luck.

Now I must quit for today and go outside, by request, and climb to the top of a 24′ extension ladder to replace one of our outside security lights.