Time flies when you are having fun; but I have also found that it flies when you are no having fun, either.
The green of summer is changing to the golds and browns of Autumn. The farmers are gleefully harvesting what looks to be a bumper crop of corn and soybeans. The other day I watched as a combine was off-loading corn into a semi-truck. A second semi was in the field, awaiting it's load of gold. Last year it was so wet that a lot of corn stayed in the field until after Christmas, a nagging reminder of a poor year in agriculture.
Football season is also here, one of my favorite times. An agonizing Sunday night appearance exposed the Bears for what they really are, a not-so-good team. Our local high school team, after winning their first 5 games, have dropped 2 in a row, and they have to face a couple of really tough teams to finish the season. Can't turn the ball over so much, boys.
Also, the fall brings my father's annual dose of wonderlust. He knows that his lottery victory will be soon, and has been making plans to escape assisted living. It is difficult to even joke about how pathetic this has become. I'm glad my mother isn't here to live it. The changes in his physical and metal health in the ten years that she has been gone have been catastrophic, and there is no chance for improvement.
Saturday, October 09, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
July. Sure am hot outside!
Al Gore seems to have a problem with masseuses. Why can't he simply pleasure himself?
The focus of our culture on the pursuit of the almight male orgasm has become the downfall of a lot of celebrities these days.
Tiger Woods, Al Gore, Mel Gibson, Bill Clinton, Charlie Sheen, the list could go on and on.
There is a lot to be said for the quiet desperation of the average man, who shows tremendous character by simply living with the awful truth that they are not able to have sex as often as they would like with their wives. The Average Man (the man from Flyover), does not have the money, charm, fame or like currency to convince other women to give them pleasure. The Average Man risks emotional and financial ruin, to say nothing of community scorn, if he gets caught in even the briefest of trysts.
And rightly so.
For one who takes the vow and sacrament of marriage seriously, I chuckle at the indiscretions of my more famous and wealthy brothers. I find a lot of humor even at those Average Men who dabble and try not to get found out. They think they cannot get caught, but they do. And do you know why? Because they ain't thinkin' with their brains, y'all! They're thinkin' with their Johnsons!
Live by the Johnson, die by the Johnson.
I am amazed at the huge risks that are taken in the name of that passing pleasure, the orgasm.
The focus of our culture on the pursuit of the almight male orgasm has become the downfall of a lot of celebrities these days.
Tiger Woods, Al Gore, Mel Gibson, Bill Clinton, Charlie Sheen, the list could go on and on.
There is a lot to be said for the quiet desperation of the average man, who shows tremendous character by simply living with the awful truth that they are not able to have sex as often as they would like with their wives. The Average Man (the man from Flyover), does not have the money, charm, fame or like currency to convince other women to give them pleasure. The Average Man risks emotional and financial ruin, to say nothing of community scorn, if he gets caught in even the briefest of trysts.
And rightly so.
For one who takes the vow and sacrament of marriage seriously, I chuckle at the indiscretions of my more famous and wealthy brothers. I find a lot of humor even at those Average Men who dabble and try not to get found out. They think they cannot get caught, but they do. And do you know why? Because they ain't thinkin' with their brains, y'all! They're thinkin' with their Johnsons!
Live by the Johnson, die by the Johnson.
I am amazed at the huge risks that are taken in the name of that passing pleasure, the orgasm.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Summer of Flood
Having lived in Northern Illinois for over 25 years (the first few against my will), I have experienced the cyclical nature of our weather patterns. They did not really become very important to me until I became a homeowner, when I became responsible for mowing grass, snow removal, etc.
From 1995 to 2006, our summers were typically hot, really hot (for Northern Illinois, anyway). I could always count on a nice looking lawn until Father's Day, at which point my lawn would burn up and I'd have to run the mower maybe twice a month to keep everything level. In 2005, I had the lawn at our latest house aerated in early June, at which the ground dried up, and the holes stayed in the yard the rest of the summer.
The next year, I mowed all summer. In 2007, we began a cycle of monsoon rains during the last week in August, making the river rise and creating mild concerns about suddenly having riverfront property. Last year, we had plenty of rain (which pleased the farmers) but cooler temperatures (which annoyed the farmers). And now it looks like another summer of rain.
This morning, we enjoyed a huge thunderstorm during 8 o'clock Mass. Father Tim's homily was punctuated by claps of thunder, including one that happened at the end, sort of a divine exclamation mark on a nice sermon. Rain pounded the roof of the church, and I was not surprised to find several streets flooded on the drive home. Retention areas have filled up, creating dangerous swimming holes for any of the unsupervised. We'll see if Darwin was right.
From 1995 to 2006, our summers were typically hot, really hot (for Northern Illinois, anyway). I could always count on a nice looking lawn until Father's Day, at which point my lawn would burn up and I'd have to run the mower maybe twice a month to keep everything level. In 2005, I had the lawn at our latest house aerated in early June, at which the ground dried up, and the holes stayed in the yard the rest of the summer.
The next year, I mowed all summer. In 2007, we began a cycle of monsoon rains during the last week in August, making the river rise and creating mild concerns about suddenly having riverfront property. Last year, we had plenty of rain (which pleased the farmers) but cooler temperatures (which annoyed the farmers). And now it looks like another summer of rain.
This morning, we enjoyed a huge thunderstorm during 8 o'clock Mass. Father Tim's homily was punctuated by claps of thunder, including one that happened at the end, sort of a divine exclamation mark on a nice sermon. Rain pounded the roof of the church, and I was not surprised to find several streets flooded on the drive home. Retention areas have filled up, creating dangerous swimming holes for any of the unsupervised. We'll see if Darwin was right.
Friday, March 05, 2010
It's March, so I must be having some madness
Allegedly, Spring (the season, not the town in Texas) is about 2 weeks away. I still have to scrape the ice off my windshield in the morning (who am I'm fooling, I don't scrape, I let the car idle for 10 minutes until the windshield is clear. I gave up scraping in 1993 when the Plakovics moved to Austin, and I didn't get to go along).
IF it gets above 35 tomorrow and is sunny, I will remove the holiday lights from my house, and possibly try to straighten up the garage.
Is there anyone in the area who would like to have an antique fireplace mantle? I can't seem to sell in on Craigslist, and my wife wants to burn it. It is more that a shelf, it is about 54 inches wide and 78" tall, and will accomodate a 36" x 36" fireplace opening. Yes, that's a bevelled mirror reflecting what is hanging on the wall in my garge.
Another one of my parents' belongings that I'd like to convert to cash so my father has a slightly better safety net to catch him when he falls next time.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Adios, Parker
On January 18, Robert B. Parker passed away (as I'm sure he had always hoped) while writing at his desk. A sudden heart attack, not a fist fight.
I am a huge fan. It may be the case that I've read every word that he ever published, well over fifty books. He sold millions and millions of books, and while that is not the primary proof that he was a great writer, I will tell you he was a good writer. Remember, this is MY blog.
In the last few years, Parker began writing for the "Young Reader" market, and I given my son those two novels, which he enjoyed. As soon as he is old enough, I'll suggest that he begin the "Spenser" series.
I was very sad to hear of Parker's death. He seemed to have a great life, with lots of success, a nice family, and good health. There's no need for me to provide a biography, just go to Wikipedia. His protagonists spoke to me. They were typically morally grounded, quick-witted, and very capable. They cared about what they did. Spenser remains my smart-alec role model. The conflict between his sense of autonomy and his committment Susan (the love of his life, or more succinctly, his "sweet patootie") was the central, yet subtle, theme to the Spenser series.
In fact, personal autonomy was a central theme to all the main characters in the four series (Spenser, Jesse Stone, Sunny Randall, and the newer Appaloosa westerns). Read Parker's bio, and you'll understand why.
Parker had been quoted that he never planned to write books, to be published posthumously, that would "wrap up" his characters' lives. So dying with Parker are the aforementioned Spenser (no first name ever mentioned), Jesse Stone, the police chief of Paradise, Mass; Sunny Randall, a female private detective from Boston; and all the ancillary recurring characters in Parker's books. Described in detail, yet in never too many words, whether well-dressed or in need of a shave, straight or gay, gorgeous or not.
As much as I mourn Parker's passing, I think I mourn the loss of these souls even more. Existing only on paper. Would Spenser and Susan ever marry? Would Hawk ever find his soul? Would Jesse Stone conquer his alcoholism? Would Sunny Randall ever be able to let go of her ex-husband?
Would any of these characters ever age?
So Parker takes with him the promise of more great stories. I will miss him, and I will miss them. Existing only on paper.
I am a huge fan. It may be the case that I've read every word that he ever published, well over fifty books. He sold millions and millions of books, and while that is not the primary proof that he was a great writer, I will tell you he was a good writer. Remember, this is MY blog.
In the last few years, Parker began writing for the "Young Reader" market, and I given my son those two novels, which he enjoyed. As soon as he is old enough, I'll suggest that he begin the "Spenser" series.
I was very sad to hear of Parker's death. He seemed to have a great life, with lots of success, a nice family, and good health. There's no need for me to provide a biography, just go to Wikipedia. His protagonists spoke to me. They were typically morally grounded, quick-witted, and very capable. They cared about what they did. Spenser remains my smart-alec role model. The conflict between his sense of autonomy and his committment Susan (the love of his life, or more succinctly, his "sweet patootie") was the central, yet subtle, theme to the Spenser series.
In fact, personal autonomy was a central theme to all the main characters in the four series (Spenser, Jesse Stone, Sunny Randall, and the newer Appaloosa westerns). Read Parker's bio, and you'll understand why.
Parker had been quoted that he never planned to write books, to be published posthumously, that would "wrap up" his characters' lives. So dying with Parker are the aforementioned Spenser (no first name ever mentioned), Jesse Stone, the police chief of Paradise, Mass; Sunny Randall, a female private detective from Boston; and all the ancillary recurring characters in Parker's books. Described in detail, yet in never too many words, whether well-dressed or in need of a shave, straight or gay, gorgeous or not.
As much as I mourn Parker's passing, I think I mourn the loss of these souls even more. Existing only on paper. Would Spenser and Susan ever marry? Would Hawk ever find his soul? Would Jesse Stone conquer his alcoholism? Would Sunny Randall ever be able to let go of her ex-husband?
Would any of these characters ever age?
So Parker takes with him the promise of more great stories. I will miss him, and I will miss them. Existing only on paper.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Stop the madness!
I wish I had more time to post entries here, but the 'personal life' is a little hectic.
I do want to say, very pointedly, that the following people are Asshats of the first order:
Jay Leno -- Shut up, already. You were never 'fired', you are not funny, and I'm proud that I have never watched your nightly "industry changing" program which is being cancelled after 5 months.
Jeff Zucker -- You'll keep Conan O'Brien off the air for 3 1/2 years? For what, wanting to do the job you hired him for?
Gilbert Arenas -- I wouldn't believe you if you told me today was January 14. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie. Go shit in your own shoes.
Jayson Williams -- Spent years lying about shooting your chauffer, at one point even claiming he committed suicide with your shotgun. Now you say you were being careless in your aim. Hello, it was a shotgun!!! Enjoy prison, dickhead. Good luck getting a drink inside.
Okay, that's enough vitriol for now.
Happy New Year, everyone!!
I do want to say, very pointedly, that the following people are Asshats of the first order:
Jay Leno -- Shut up, already. You were never 'fired', you are not funny, and I'm proud that I have never watched your nightly "industry changing" program which is being cancelled after 5 months.
Jeff Zucker -- You'll keep Conan O'Brien off the air for 3 1/2 years? For what, wanting to do the job you hired him for?
Gilbert Arenas -- I wouldn't believe you if you told me today was January 14. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie. Go shit in your own shoes.
Jayson Williams -- Spent years lying about shooting your chauffer, at one point even claiming he committed suicide with your shotgun. Now you say you were being careless in your aim. Hello, it was a shotgun!!! Enjoy prison, dickhead. Good luck getting a drink inside.
Okay, that's enough vitriol for now.
Happy New Year, everyone!!
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