Don’t Mess With Stuff You Don’t Understand !

Last Friday I was watching The Littles (our granddaughters) play with slime on the kitchen counter, fascinated by how the stuff just oozes between their fingers and drips all over the place. Then they just roll it up into a new ball, dabbing the drips into the ‘Mother Piece’ where all slime eventually goes prior to being stuffed back into the small plastic container from which it came. 

As I watched I couldn’t help but feel an urge to join in the fun but withheld myself until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Grabbing a fairly large piece of this jello-like material, stretching it, wadding it up, just letting it kinda melt, and then impulsively reached over and slapped it on Gilligan’s head.

Everyone got real quiet as Gilligan shrieked, “Grandpa, what did you do?” I thought it was obvious … I was playing a prank on Gilligan. That’s what I thought, anyway, until I tried to remove the stuff from her hair. 

Turns out that slime, at least the version I used, sticks to, and is easily removed from every known substance EXCEPT hair. Who knew? Apparently all the kids did from past experience, but they didn’t share that with me when they decided to let me play. That was a terrible mistake.

I worked really hard at removing  what I could all the while listening to many versions of how they’ve all seen it done on YouTube. I even watched a few of videos of people practicing this new art. Feeling a nervous breakdown coming on I decided I had to make a decision and settle on the Mayonnaise Solution. I would have taken photos but my hands were all sticky and no one else thought to take any so that moment was lost. Just trust me that I made a mess, all the way down to her tender little scalp. The example provided is a milder mess than mine.

Getting the Mayonnaise out and got a handful and glopped it on Gilligan’s head. and started kneading it around the assaulted area. As I worked the mess, it started turning pink, taking on the color of the slime. This gratified me because it was apparent something was happening. I continued rubbing it on the affected hairs for about 30 minutes and magically it all kind of disappeared, just like in the video. I found it was amazing and was able to regain my composure with this new knowledge.

After it was all said and done, Gilligan forgave me for being stupid and was pleased with the final outcome. 

I went to bed happy and slept nicely right up to 0500 Saturday morning.

The dogs don’t observe weekends. 

To the Moon and back, Part dos

Yesterday I believe I was in the middle of a narrative about going to the Moon. Well, not really the moon, because I really don’t know where we went and there was never a moon view from the only window to which I had access. Nope, I was sequestered in what I believe was a small portion of a very large facility that’s located on the dark side of the Moon so all visual reference was forever aimed at deep space. That’s a guess, of course. Then again, they could have taken me to another galaxy, far, far away because they were able to fool the laws of physics, as we understand them, and take advantage of folds in space about which much is speculated on Earth. But, if I was on the moon I would weigh less, right? I didn’t feel lighter so I probably really wasn’t on the moon.

Right after discovering my speculation about my location I suffered a period of unconsciousness of unknown duration. It could have been seconds, days, or weeks. Probably weeks because I felt nicely rested when I woke up. Perhaps I just had a nap. One of those dreamless ones. That happens sometimes but is only a problem when I’m driving. I knew I was in a different location because the furnishings had changed from lite modern to country sheik.

This afternoon Ringo came to my room and told me that I was still on Earth at their facility that’s located in a hidden storeroom in the back of the new Bi Mart in Scappoose. Lot’s of folks wondered how Scappoose wound up with a Bi Mart so close to Fred Meyers. Now we know. Aliens built it. Through the small window mounted high on the wall all I could see was sky so I had to take Ringo’s word for it. He went on to explain that the reason we were at Bi Mart was because they have the parts needed to repair the damage George did to the landing craft, but it was on back order and wouldn’t be available for 3 weeks. That’s how long it takes for them to get resupplied from their Moon base. So, I was stuck in Bi-Mart for the next three weeks. To make up for the delay, Ringo gave me a stack of coupons I could use in the store when they finally released me. I thought that was pretty nice of him at the time but later learned that everyone in town received those same coupons in the mail on a regular basis.

I think I left off yesterday where I was just becoming aware of ‘things’ when Brucette stepped out of the shower. Considering the nature of Brucette’s skill and training, I suspect more than one of you were intrigued at the mental vision this may have created. Well, it’s not what you think. You see, these folks don’t really shower. When they get dirty they just shed their skin, like a snake, and keep on keeping on. Using the shower is a handy way to get rid of the evidence because all the discarded skin is water-soluble and easily washed down the drain. Because of this, you’d think water is very dangerous for them and make them melt. Not the case at all. The water merely removes the first layer of skin, of which they have about 128 layers that keep replenishing themselves. So, though Brucette was indeed naked her fake beauty was overshadowed by the bis of still dissolving skin clinging to her torso. If she’d stayed in the shower a bit longer I suspect they would have all gone away but apparently she was in a hurry. It wasn’t one of those ‘sights for sore eyes’, believe me.

The next time I woke up, not knowing that I had fallen asleep, I was laying on an exam table, just like the one they use on the Mother Ship. As I pondered my situation I became aware of a lightness making me think I was no longer on Earth. This was verified with Elton appeared with that big shiny reflector strapped around his head like doctors used before good flashlights were created. You know, it has a hole in the middle of it through which the doc looked while directing the reflected light on what he was looking at.

One of these …

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Elton didn’t really need it because they actually have state of the art lighting on the Mother Ship. He wears it as a fashion statement and, I think, as an attempt to put me at ease because he’s acting like a doctor. I know better because I’ve been here before. Many times over the past 52 years. I didn’t understand why they kept taking me over and over, doing the same tests, looking at all the same parts, over and over. Turns out that everyone on Earth is assigned a number and they select abductees based on a random draw and my number just keeps coming up.

“Once someone is selected to be abducted, why not leave their number out of the pool for the next drawings?” I asked during one abduction.

“Well,” said Elton, “you see, we are from Uranus and our rues are very strict about how abductees are selected. The numbers aren’t really drawn from a hat like we told you before. We use a computer to make the selection. Since you are just a number on a monitor we can’t very well remove the number. It’s always there. You could, conceivably, be selected numerous times in a row but the chances of that happening are astronomical.”

That’s actually the most words I ever heard come out of Elton’s mouth. Yes, they have mouths. They actually look just like us but learning that they originate from Uranus might make you wonder.  I was stunned because I had no idea that Elton could verbalize a coherent thought. During all previous visits all he did was issue commands to me like, ‘turn your head and cough’, ‘stick out your tongue’, ‘squeeze my fingers as hard as you can’, ‘turn to the right’, ‘stand on one leg and hop’, routine stuff like that. I just figured he was giving me a physical like they do in schools to make sure you can play sports without dying.

“Why do you do the same tests on me? Don’t you have the results from the last time?” I asked.

“We have protocols,” is all he said. Protocols. Right. Time tested protocols. Just like that guy you call for help troubleshooting your new computer because it won’t do something it’s supposed to and he (always a He) starts reading to you the protocol he’s supposed to use to determine the cause of the problem. He must go through every step on his guide even though you’ve already told him that the video card is smoked. No, he’s got to test everything before he can authorize shipment of the replacement part. After two hours he determines that the video card is bad and arranges to ship a new one. That’s a hypothetical example, or course.

So, I once again endured the protocols after which I was given an injection. They’d never done that before so I had to ask, “what’s that for?”

“Oh, there’s a bug going around up here,” said Elton, “and we don’t want to contaminate the humans.” Then he asked if I was allergic to eggs or egg products.

Just for fun I said, “Yes. Yes I am.”

“That’s OK because there’s nothing in the shot related to eggs of any type.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Protocol,” he said.

“You’ll be transported back to Earth shortly. Do you have to use the bathroom?”

“No,” I replied, “but I’d like to look around a little if it’s OK.”

“Sure,” he said. “Just don’t open any of the doors that have large red ‘X’s’ on them.”

So, I got up and wandered around the room and found three doors, two of which had the red ‘X’s’ on them. The third one had a happy face on it and looked promising. So I approached it and looked all over for some sort of knob that may open it. Behind me I heard Elton say, “Push on the door to open it.” I did that and, hey!, it popped right open just like one of those cupboard doors that have magnetic spring locks.

Behind the door was rod from which hung all of Elton’s clothes. Apparently it was a closet. Behind me I heard laughing as he enjoyed his little joke. That made me a bit angry so I turned and rushed to one of the ‘X’ marked doors with the intention of pushing on it but stopped short when I heard Elton yell out, “Noooooooo!”

Then I woke up fully clothed in my bed. At home. Mom was standing over me, wide-eyed, asking me if I was OK. It was really nice that Mom was there but a little odd, too, because Mom died in 2001.

“Crap.” I thought. “Elton sent me to the wrong reality, again.” He’s done that before. Probably on purpose. I’m sure it wasn’t protocol. Now I had to find out where Ringo lived in this reality so he could help send me back the proper reality. For the moment, though, I just said, “Hi, Mom,” and gave her a big hug. I haven’t had one of those in a long time.

Maybe I was just dreaming.

Diane’s fixing to take her Mom, Jean, shopping. That means I’ll be left unsupervised for a few hours so I’m going to the basement to play with some of my power tools. I do that when she leaves because her parting words when leaving me alone are, “don’t use any tools that plug into the wall!” It’s a warning and I know, but I prefer to take it as a challenge. It doesn’t always work out well for me but today I need to be really careful because I won’t have transportation to get me to the emergency room. I’ve driven myself there a few times and I always get into trouble for it. It’s just my renegade nature, I suspect.

Ciao.

My stupid iPhone made me do it

Please forgive me for using a tragic 2014 “accident” in Dallas, on Christmas Eve, as the basis for my first 2017 post. But this caught my eye and it won’t get out of my head.

A little 5-year-old girl was killed by a driver who was distracted while using Facetime on his iPhone. Now, two years later, the parents of the little girl they lost is suing Apple for not configuring the iPhone to disable Facetime while traveling at highway speeds. The police confirmed that Facetime was still active on the driver’s iPhone when they found it.

It boggles my mind that Apple could potentially be held liable because the offending driver was simply stupid. Many states have outlawed cell phone use while driving but Texas isn’t one of them. So, the offending driver was legally using his phone and apparently wasn’t cited for it, but he was charged with manslaughter because he caused the death of the little girl.

I’m stunned that this is a lawsuit that will apparently be going to trial.

Thanks for ‘listening’.

Public Toilets

I read the news again this morning, a task I’ve been avoiding, and found a story regarding the LGBT community and public bathrooms. There was no mention of the non-LGBT community which is surely affected by decisions to support the other side of that coin, but that’s OK. The bottom line, as I understand it, is that the LGBT group want to use toilets that are specific to their chosen, genetically assigned, or surgically manipulated gender. I respect that need. When ya gotta go, ya gotta go, you know?

After giving this thorough consideration I’ve come up with two possible solutions.

  1. Close all public toilets. Instead, focus on encouraging folks to go to the bathroom before they leave home, just like parents do with their kids.
  2. Place portable toilets on each side of entrances into large stores, like Macy’s, Nordstrom, Wal-Mart, etc., and in school breezeways, and throughout large parking lots.

This may pose problems for eating establishments that are not located inside a mall, but I have a solution for that, too. Have one bathroom that has 4 sinks so folks can wash their hands after using the portable toilets next to the entrance on their way in.

I, personally, really don’t give a hoot which bathroom anyone uses. When I have to use public facilities I don’t take an inventory of who’s in there with me. I’m not there to judge or strike up a spirited conversation. I just want to do my business, wash my hands, and leave. Emphasis on “wash my hands.”

Cheers!

Civil Disobedience and Riots in Portland

Riots in Portland? Really? What’s that all about?

According to the news I listened to, those who did the rioting just wanted to make sure their voices were heard. A far simpler way would have been to leave a message on someone’s answer phone. Instead they went about destroying numerous vehicles at a Toyota dealership ($200K), smashed windows along the street, in addition to stopping the commuters on their way home by walking on to the freeway and MAX lines. I’m guessing the message they want heard is not the one they delivered last night during their melee.

There is info suggesting they aren’t going to stop until someone listens. This is all in the wake of President Donald Trump beating Hillary in the election. Maybe they just want a vote recount, nationwide, to rectify what they view as a disgrace of the American Voting System. Maybe they want Donald to just step down and allow the rightful heir to the throne assume her position. Who knows? All they’re doing is breaking stuff.

I think they need an interpreter.

Knuckleheads.

 

The Old Truck, Panzie, Bamboo, & Fire

Yesterday I tempted fate by driving the old, brakeless truck to visit Justin to see if he can fix what’s wrong. He’s a friend of Lydia’s and is a pretty good mechanic. So, having a vehicle that needs the attention of a mechanic on a regular basis, I feel it’s my duty to give him all the opportunities I can to further his education. The last time I used his services was to get the flex plate installed. Since he did that I’ve had no problem starting the truck, at all. That’s been many months ago. Haven’t had to charge the battery, either, probably because I replaced the belts allowing the engine to turn the alternator at a speed fast enough to generate enough electricity to replenish what was used to get the engine started. Whatever the reason, I’m a happy guy and will be until I find out what it’s going to cost me this time.

I didn’t work in the yard until this afternoon because we had to take Panzie to the doc for a scheduled appointment. She needed a shot and a checkup. She’s just fine for an old dog.

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After we got her home, and past the welcoming committee who were happily yapping, I donned my work clothes and headed for the back yard. My goal was to install bamboo cross members between two 4 x 4 posts I had originally planned to use to support a door to no where. Just seemed like a good idea at the time. That was years ago, of course, because no way was Diane going to let me install a door between those posts. The door I had in mind was burned up years ago. So, I got out my handy-dandy hammer drill, the one that tried to kill me a few years ago, installed a spade bit, and gave it a test run. Then I measured six-inch increments up one post and used my level to add similar marks to the other post. My original plan was to drill holes completely through both posts then pull the home-grown bamboo through both posts. That didn’t work because the joints in the bamboo where branches were removed wouldn’t fit. Last night while I lay dreaming, the solution came to me. All I had to do was drill the holes on the insides of the posts, deeper on one side than the other, then cut the bamboo between the joints so they wouldn’t be a problem. When cut to the proper length, I pushed the bamboo in the deeper hole, then pushed it into the shallow hole on the other side. worked like a charm. So simple.

Then, after looking at it for a while, I thought it should have some vertical elements and started adding them. After I ran out of pieces that would bend around the horizontal members I just cut a small stalk, plucked all the leaves off it and stuck it on. Kinda weird, but Diane likes it. That’s the important part.

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The trellis is going to be used for a clematis that will envelope the entire thing.

To end the day, I flattened out a spot that use to house a Rhododendron and built Diane a fire pit. She’s always wanted one of those. I just happened to have a bunch of big rocks lying around doing nothing which was handy.

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Diane doesn’t think it’s an adequate fire pit. I thought it looked ok.

Now I’m clean and tired and the beeper just went off telling me the spaghetti is done, so I must terminate and ingest food.

News in the News

Amid all the shootings, and stories about people blowing each other up, is a scattering of nonsensical news items that make me pause and go, “Hmmm.”

First, I must tell you that I typically don’t watch the news and I rarely read the newspapers that are delivered to our door, so my news view is decidedly limited. Still, I have opinions about what I see when reading “Bing” news on my computer.

Using that handy doorway to the world I’m able to choose from many sources for any of the news items they deem noteworthy. I have my favorites, of course, but tend to look at the most recent entries available. I suspect the trivial items are included to dilute ones perception of news in general to keep their interest. You know, like scattering candy in a pile of crap to make it look more festive.

Take today, for instance. I’ve investigated the world and discovered that a “Popular Tucson TV Reporter Couple” have been charged with child abuse after their baby tested positive for cocaine. This was accomplished through the use of the former Miss Arizona contestant’s shapely left breast, while feeding her infant, after she ingested cocaine the previous evening. How fun. Now she’s newsworthy, but no longer reporting the news. Dumb.

Then there’s news about a Milwaukee woman who has been added to the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list. She’s the suspect in the murder of her pregnant neighbor and her unborn infant because of loud music. One source indicated that Shanika, the suspect, is Milwaukee’s first fugitive on the ‘Ten Most Wanted List’, like it’s some kind of honor, like when the Bucks win a ball game. Kinda makes you want to move to Milwaukee, doesn’t it?

How about Mark Z, Mr. Facebook? He’s making all his new Kauai neighbors angry because he’s building a six-foot high wall around his 700 acre estate. That’s certainly noteworthy, don’t you think? His spokespeople said the wall is meant to be a sound barrier but I think it’s there to keep the wild pigs out. Or maybe keep them in. One resident of the island reported that she’s 5’8″ tall and when walking along the property all she can see is the rock wall instead of the Hawaiian scenery to which she’s accustom. They want Mark to tear down the wall because it’s an eye sore. I mean, really? It was built to code, using local rocks and, most likely, local artisans. I think it’s a nice looking wall. I also think a more simple solution to tearing it down would be for Mark to build platforms outside the wall, every 100 feet or so, where those who are less than 6′ tall can ascend above the wall and take in all of Mark’s natural beauty. Each ramp would have to have wheelchair access, of course.

 For the sports minded folks, there’s news about LeBron James who declined his player option and is now a free agent. The reason, I surmise, is due to his inherently greedy nature that propels him to seek more and more money for his “talents”. Yes, he’s pretty good but, like all pro sports icons, waaaaaay overpaid for what they do. Declining the option, it is reported, James salary will increase from $24 million to $27.5 million a year, a modest 14.58% increase. Not bad for someone who already has far more money than he needs.

I know, I sound a bit bitter talking about stuff like that, and probably smacks a lot like socialism. That’s not really it for me. It’s just that I find it amazing that professional athletes, and most CEO’s make such obscene amounts of money each year when we severely under educated kids, many of whom don’t know what having a full belly is like. It’s just sad.

There are many more topics, of course, most of them about people getting shot and places being blown to smithereens. You know, fun things to read about. The topper for all of today’s news, for me, was finding out that there might be a Tetris Trilogy in our future.

Stunning news.