Some people hear voices. Some see invisible people. Others have no imagination whatsoever.

Got to be careful with this new fangled slang there, bud!




 New Year’s Eve 1961

Karen is getting ready to go on a date, when Ralph stops by to pick her up, but she’s not ready yet, so he sits in the living room with Karen’s father and waits.

Just to make conversation, Karen’s dad asks Ralph, “so, are you kids going to be screwing at the party tonight?”

Completely blindsided by the question, Ralph stammers, “E-excuse me, sir.  Did you just say ‘screw’.”

“Oh sure.  You know, Karen learned how to screw over the summer, and she just loves it.  She turns on that rock’n’roll music and screws all day.  Heck, she’d screw all night if we let her.  I’ll betcha all the kids at the party will be screwing tonight.” 

Ralph turns a beet-red while he’s trying to process all of this, but before he can reply, Karen comes downstairs looking absolutely gorgeous: perfect hair, beautiful dress, the works.    

“OK you two kids drive carefully and have a great time!”  And they drive off.

Ten minutes later, Karen stomps into the house, her makeup schmeared, her hair and dress disheveled. 

“Damnit Daddy-o, IT’S CALLED ‘THE TWIST’”

I have a time travel joke, but I already told it to you.

 Time Travel.  Yes, I have read way too many Science Fiction novels.  And I have plans for when I finally get that Time Machine.

Or do I have it already?  Do you remember when Freddy The White Rabbit was ruler of the world?

Hmmm, just think about that one for a bit...





 Winter Boots

One December morning, a man walks up to the front desk of a hotel, and complains to the concierge that he couldn't sleep last night thanks to his upstairs neighbor.

They both decide to visit the room above to investigate. 

After some knocking, the concierge opens the door to find a guest who looked a bit groggy; some explanation from the concierge later, the guest apologized and explained that he just flopped on his bed after a long exhausting day, and took off his winter boot which landed heavily on the floor. 

Realizing how noisy it was, he decided to carefully take his other winter boot off and gently place it on the floor.

The manager, confused about the first guest's intent, asks him, "You're telling me you couldn't sleep from that one thud?" The man replies, "I was waiting for the other boot to drop!"

If You Require An App To Use Your Gadget, I Will Reject Your Product.

I would say that having dry eye issues pushed me this way but really I'm finding it hard to say I am missing anything.

There are a few, a very scant few, apps I use on the phone.  If your product requires me to use an app to use it, thanks but no thanks.

How I do things is a bit old school.  I use a browser.  On a laptop.  A rather nice 15 inch screen.  It keeps my lap warm.  

I have a love hate relationship with the pharmacy.  I won't name and shame them but the nearest one to me.  That one with three letters.  They try to pretend they care by slapping a valentines heart on everything.

Yeah, that one.

They text me frequently.  I groan and wait until I get home.  Then I type that Random Scrabble Tile nonsense into the browser and hope I got it right.  The message tells me that I have to go to the store and pick up a bottle of something and so forth.

Blah. You should see what I go through with Doctors Offices.  Three Hospital networks with their coterie of doctors.

Sure I could click on the link and try to see it but the Lasik I had years ago means that I am learning my own limitations.  My eyesight is better than 20/20.  That is down from where it was shortly after the operation.  I was the guy in the car who was reading street signs for miles down the road.

Yeah, I am amazed at that too.

Not any more, I'm like everyone else.  I got Lasik because my astigmatism got so bad that I could not get stronger contacts and as active as I am I did not want to wear "Coke Bottle Glasses".  I mean, come on, can you imagine getting on inline skates and skating 30 miles in a workout with those things balancing on your nose?

Me either.

My training in IT and computers taught me how to limit my exposure to ads and other waste of time things on the web.  My laptop is so locked down that when I see an ad on a website, I laugh and do a search and destroy.

My next step is to block certain large websites and surf in a virtual machine but that is a long term goal.  Remember, Fellow Babies, a well tuned Hosts File is your friend as well as a strong ad blocker.

When I look at videos of electric cars with an app to get a refueling I cringe.  One for each network.  Multiple networks both here and in Europe.  The car has it's own app.  

I'll stick with my 23 year old Jeep Wrangler for now, thanks.  It's not perfect, and the check engine light has been on since before 2010, but I know what the code is and... Meh.  Not worried.  Gas Cap, indeed!

Each of those apps has a part that runs in background and almost all of you leave that part running.  The app is phoning home and telling them what you are doing but I really have to ask Why?  Getting served ads for what you were talking about "in private"?  CBC is doing a podcast about that one, the presenter was talking about "Pickleball" and later getting served all sorts of ads about Pickles, Balls, and Pickleball.

It seems like spyware is not too picky.  

Yes, this is what I listen to at 5 AM staring at the dog across the pool wearing nothing more than my boxer shorts, shivering in the pre-dawn coolness.  

"Come on, Rack!  Get your business done and water the Mango Tree!"

So for now, keep your apps.  The one that I have that controls my headphones wants an update that I think I will ignore.  A-Couple-Hundred-Megs so I can translate speech into English.  

Yeah, so how do you do that without listening in on what I am doing here?  No wonder why they want you to use Bluetooth for headphones.

No. Thank. You.   I turned off auto-update on the phone ages ago and my laptop is Linux so it only updates when I tell it to. Remember what that was like, Windows users?  Did your Mac take a powder last time you did an update?  I don't.

Yes. I do enjoy controlling my own experiences.  Don't you?  Since I can't limit my exposure to that sort of spyware and nasty program by removing it from the phone, I limit my time using the phone.  They are hard for me to read anyway even on the "big boy" sized phone I am using.

Being as big as I am, even using the app is problematic.  Don't get me started with trying to use a touch screen with the tiny little buttons on a glass screen.  Just does not work well.  Like typing with your elbow.

Since I have problems using the touch screen in every case, even on my oven to set the timer, I think I'll skip it all.  Give me physical buttons and skip the app.  

Yes, all of this is a bit of a rant.  It takes a significant amount of discipline.  But every journey begins with a single step.  Strap on your Big Boy shoes and begin your own trip.

I Just sold my Homing Pigeon on Ebay for the 22nd time.

So it's a solid hour before dawn.  Dark out and comfortably cool.  I'm preparing for a trip around the giant gas bag and hopefully over 26.2 miles on the bike.  I think that's an intermediate workout, but if the "tourists" can keep right except to pass, all will be well. 

ON YER LEFT!



A shark can swim faster than me, but I can run faster than a shark. 
So in a triathlon, it would all come down to who is the better cyclist.


I think with the next one, I'll have to admit I'm proving the doctor's point!


 
 Deficiency...

A noted psychiatrist was a guest at a gathering, and his hostess naturally broached the subject in which the doctor was most at ease.

"Would you mind telling me, Doctor," she asked, "how you detect a mental deficiency in somebody who appears completely normal?"

"That's easy," he replied. "You ask them a simple question which everyone should be able to answer with no trouble. If they hesitate, that puts you on the right track."

"What sort of question would you ask Doctor?"

"Well, you might ask them..."

"Captain Cook made three trips around the world and died during one of them.

Which one?"

She thought a moment, then said with a nervous laugh:

"You wouldn't happen to have another example, would you?"

"I have to confess I don't know much about history."

I found a stone in the shape of a guitar pick. I used it to play rock music!

One of the nice things about living in a small town, or a city with "neighborhoods" is you can be helpful and pass on info when you see a need.  Or just be a gossip.  

It's all in how you define things, isn't it?




 How to stop a gossip

Mildred, the church gossip, and self-appointed monitor of the church's morals, kept sticking her nose into other people's business.  Several members did not approve of her extra-curricular activities, but feared her enough to maintain their silence.

She made a mistake, however, when she accused Frank, a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his old pickup parked in front of the town's only bar one afternoon.

She emphatically told Frank (and several others) that every one seeing it there would "know" what he was doing there!

Frank, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment and just turned and walked away. He didn't explain, defend, or deny.  He said nothing.

Later that evening, Frank quietly parked his pickup in front of Mildred's house ... walked home, and left it there all night.

Sunrise Over The Shed

Old Dog New Trick.  I mutter frequently, lately.  Rack, The McNab SuperDog (TM) is getting old.  People tell me 14 years old is "quite old". 

I don't want to believe that.

But he's starting to act oddly.  Granted, the long walks that we take with him are helping to keep him alive, and it helps to give me something to do on a day I am not going to the park to beat myself up.  6 laps are a marathon, 3 in under an hour.

My own workout schedule not withstanding.  

He's a handful, always has been.  The latest trick is the backyard.  Frequently.  

The bells on a string jingle softly, and sometimes I even hear them.  He does it so frequently that I have begun to disregard them in favor of letting him out whenever I go out to the kitchen.

My own fast metabolism means I'm out there grazing frequently so he gets to water the light pole back behind the house as much as he needs to.

He's even taking breaks during feedings which bothers me more.  A few nibbles out of the bowl, then to the door.  I let him out.  He decides if he wants to do anything productive and is back at the door.  If I go out with him, he will be more circumspect and sniff the air.  

That illusion of doing something must be important the little furry knucklehead.

I have my own agenda.  He gets walked once he gets fed.  I am up at 5am to be able to get to the park for my workout.  That's a requirement because the Furnace that is Florida gets spicy hot after about 10AM in summer.   It is easier for me to maintain that schedule all year around so even in winter, I beat the sunrise by a couple hours.

Stuffing the earbuds in my ears, I find CBC Radio One for the international news.  I'm typically standing by the pool in my boxer shorts staring at the dog or looking for shooting stars or the moon or some such.

"Go on, Rack, It's cold out here".  I say waving my hands at him.  Cold is relative.  If it ever snows here, it's a disaster scenario Up North.

Eventually we get done, fed, and Walk One done.  That journey finishes before dawn and the distance can be up to two miles depending if he wants the experience.  I cut the walks shorter on days I have workouts, and he does not seem to like that.  

Herding Dogs know the routine, learn the land, and will tell you when they are done.  In his case, Rack usually knows that he can cut things short if he's not up to it.

Walk Two happens at 7AM.  That is when the irrigation system comes on to water the orchids and the other plant pots.  

At this time of year, sunrise is just before then.  It takes a little bit for the sun to get over the tree line.  I noticed the sun just below the peak of the roof.  

I'm standing there, looking East over the pool towards the beach and The Bahamas, thinking.  Saying "You know, this does look quite nice out here".  

Rack hears me, which is a surprise in itself because Selective Deafness is a thing in older dogs, and comes to me.

"It's time for the second walk." I say and we go in.  The moment was broken and it's time to greet the world.

The voices in my head may not be real, but they have some good ideas!

 Today, The Voices are telling me it's a day to get out and get on the bike.  The Voices on the Weather sites are telling me to be damn careful.  12 mph winds gust 27 and temp 71f do not bode well for an easy day at the park.  Heading West will be real fun though with that gusty tail wind.

For the Imperially Impaired, it's damn fast gusts.  20 kph/44 k gusts.  Temps at 21C are quite pleasant.

Bah.  Get off the chair and do something other than a caffeine and carbo load, right?  Lead, Follow, or Get Out Of The Way, right?  That's what you tell yourself, right?

Ok, into the Big Black Iron Box and go ridey up to the park.  Just going to leave this bit of "humor" here for you to, ahem, enjoy!




 A guy in a fancy restaurant starts throwing up

The waiter comes running to the table, asking what's wrong, but the customer, still gasping for air, just points at the large soup bowl on the table, and waves his hand as to say that it's spoiled.

Having just brought the soup out fresh from the kitchen, the waiter is convinced there's nothing wrong with the soup, so he takes a clean spoon, and confidently tastes a spoonful, but immediately he starts throwing up.

Hearing the commotion, the chef comes running from the kitchen, asking what's wrong, but the waiter, still gasping for air, just points at the large soup bowl on the table, and waves his hand as to say that it's spoiled.

Having just made the soup out of fresh, high quality ingredients, the chef is convinced there's nothing wrong with the soup, so he takes a clean spoon, and confidently tastes a spoonful, but immediately he starts throwing up.

At this point, the customer has finally caught his breath, and says:

"I'm sorry! I tried to tell you, I threw up in the soup!"

What do you call a diamond and an antique tube radio out on a date? Radiocarbon dating.

 Back In The Day, when I was a boring kid, I used to sit on the couch at Mom's House and build radio equipment to keep my mind occupied.  

Once in a while I consider how easy it was to do that and realize that really there isn't much worth listening to on AM radio here in Flakey Florida.

Since my "Support Team" has returned from London, I have a story for you.

 Peak Level Trolling

When Walter Cronkite was a news reporter in London during WWII, he eventually accrued enough respect, influence and privilege to be admitted on a provisional basis to some of the best clubs in London.

What they didn't know was he was a compulsive prankster. 

One night, while he was dining in one of the most exclusive clubs in the city, coincidentally a group consisting of most of the Royal Family came in and were seated. 

After a sufficient length of time had passed and they were settled in, Cronkite signalled a passing waiter, discreetly pulled a white envelope from his suit pocket, placed it on the waiter's silver tray and asked he deliver it to the Royal party. 

The Prince at the head of the table received the envelope with suitable dignity, opened it and found the following message inside: "The management requests that you and your party quietly leave".

I thought I wanted a career, but as it turns out I just wanted pay checks.

 And that, fellow babies, would describe, perfectly, my opinion of every manager I have ever worked under.

On the other hand, there were a very few excellent people that I have worked WITH, and usually they were at my level or just below it.

You can take that wherever you like.  I shall take it to the park and go ride around the giant gas bag on a chilly morning in Florida.







 Pet Fish!

A man with two buckets of fish was leaving Galveston beach when a game warden stopped him.

The warden asked, "Do you have a license to catch those fish?"

The man replied, "No, sir. These are my pet fish."

"Pet fish?!"

"Yes, sir. Every night I take these fish down to the beach, let them swim around for about a half-hour, and when I whistle, they jump back into my buckets. We do this every night."

"That’s the biggest load of hooey I’ve ever heard," said the warden.

"No, really," the man said. "Here, I’ll show you."

And he releases the fish into the ocean.

They wait. Minutes go by.

The warden says, "Well?"

The man replies, "Well what?"

"When are you going to call them back?"

The man says, "Call who back?"

The warden snaps, "The fish!"

And the man shrugs and says, "What fish?"

Rack Makes me Take a Break and Find a Monarch Chrysalis

I have been working on getting a "New-To-Me" laptop set up a little too hard all week.  Hearing the doorbell at the back door sound, I am taking a break.

I walk through the house muttering at the problem, and see my own problem child looking at me wanting to go outside.  "Rack wants out again."

Lately it is every hour in the morning, every two hours in the evening.  Time for Yet Another Perimeter search.

It is mid afternoon.  Bright sun.  We're in the dry season in South Florida.  I haven't seen a "proper" rain in about 6 weeks.  The weather service keeps promising me some but I'm not believing it. 

Stopping at the control for the irrigation system, I decide to give the backyard pots a blast of water.  "Ten Minutes on Zone 3" I say to nobody in particular.  Rack can't hear well at 14 anyway.

I start at the backdoor and work my way out inspecting each little bubbler on each plant pot.  Hibiscus, Avocado, Ginger, Mango.  

What's this?  

On a pot that has a moth-eaten collection of things that involuntarily popped up, I'll call it a weed, there's this little jade colored jewel.  It most likely was the cause of the plants there being moth-eaten.  I can't seem to get a milkweed go to seed let alone flower.

"I guess that's why I plant the stuff."

On a given day I can walk outside, follow Rack out around the pool, and see five different species of butterfly.  The Monarch Chrysalis is just one of them, a gift for the future. 

Now that it is the Holiday Season, I am hoping that I will get some more Poinsettia when I go on the dog walks.  Between Xmas and New Year's, two years back, I got my plant.  Today I bumped the pot and it got replanted.  Who knows if that will survive.  I have great luck at propagation and replanting, but Poinsettia tend to not like to be disturbed.

Some plants don't.  I have a host of plants out there, all on ground water irrigation, that will go into the ground eventually.

Until then, they will protect the little jade green jewel from exposure, and promise a future for a wee little monarch.