I resolve to lose 40 pounds, do 50 push-ups and 100 sit-ups per day, never eat processed food.. Nah, that ain't it..

Hello 2022...

 I wanna love, those who'll have it.. and sure, receive it, from those who'll give it.  Mind outta gutter, ain't talking about that.

All of us humans struggle.  I am gonna remind me of that.  Not all humans who struggle smile.  I'm gonna remind me of that, so hopefully I will.

If I come across an individual I don't know who finds it difficult to smile, I ask that I understand, even without knowing the reason. Maybe add a prayer for them. If it's a friend, and the water is right, I'd like to try to help them. And, hopefully vice versa.

I wanna compliment.  I wanna hug, high five, bump knuckles. I wanna laugh, aloud, even if it gets to the point I a pee bit.

I wanna make teasing fun of my best buds, and they of me.  I also wanna try to be a better giver, like them. I wanna have work at fun.

Someone recently said "Not all sunrises and sunsets are awesome.  If they all were, we'd maybe take them for granted." (or something to that affect, or is it effect.. I resolve to finally learn the grammatical difference in 2022.) I resolve to be thankful for sunrises and sunsets, as we are only afforded a certain number.

I've ridden the roller-coaster by myself, I've had people riding with me, enjoying screaming, crying, laughing.  They maybe pushed me out, I, maybe them.  Hehe. I resolve to remember the good as they have so graciously done to me. Love never ends, it just skips a few beats sometimes.

No matter how many times my conscience tries to put my in jail... no matter how old my reflection looks in the mirror... no matter that my speed in moving has gone from 78 to 45 to 33... no matter that my bathroom scale hollers "GET OFFA ME, PLEASE!"... no matter that I have 37 beeeeeeuutiful shirts in my closet I can no longer wear...  I resolve to like me.

I resolve to get excited, but with a governor in times of discourse..  I resolve to see things I ain't never seen, even if it means sometimes only from my easy chair, or my laptop.

I resolve to be ok if much in my life remains status quo. Change can be difficult. I do plan to change undies daily into the future insteada flippin' em. (Target had a big sale.) You're welcome.

I've had a pretty damn good life.  Not perfect, but pretty dog-gone good. I resolve to thank my Maker for that. Often. I resolve to pray for those in struggle.

I resolve to remember the speed limit is just fine.  That yellow lights will soon turn to green. A traffic jam is a wonderful time to crank the oldies station.

In addition to the aforementioned 'touch' (hug, high five, fist bump, yada) I resolve to touch often in other ways..  text, call, email, instant message.  After one of our HS classmates passed away this year, a buddy told "Man I will miss our conversations. We usedta talk often."  Thus, touch, via any method, often. Before I'm gone. Before you're gone.

I resolve to continue my love for the Chiefs, Royals, MU Tigers, Liberty Bluejays, yeah, even you Liberty North..  if the "L's" outnumber the "W's" it's cool.  I resolve to be thankful for the opportunity watch, read about you.

i resolve not to ramble.

Sorry, damnit.

I resolve to try not to cuss in fronta my grands.  I don't recall my grandparents EVER cussing so I'm already way behind.....

I wanna live..   while I still can.

Happy New Year..   Why not?

By Henry Hallmark (Google me I'll sell you a 2022 calendar) Gibson... Forward by Jeanne Dixon, Nostradamus, George Orwell and Punxsutawny Phil.

Love, Victurd

Oh, the people outside are frightful........

To cater too is not insightful...
Since they've no room to grow
Let em go, let em go, let em go.. 

Yesterday was all warm and fuzzy about happy, well, in fairness, we oughta peek at the other side of the ledger, even if it means patooey chop suey...

The other day, grandson said "Grandpa, that's the first time I've heard you cuss."  So, not proud, I'm working on a list of alternatives.   A few of my favs...   BULLSPIT!...  FRACK!... CRAPPITY!... AND SO IS YOUR OLD MAN (has always been onea my favs).

As promised, in fairness... a few things that make my tummy queasy:

LOUD. I'm not a fan of loud. I know there's gotta be a reason why God gifted someone with the 10 outta 10 volume button, but crappity, it unnerves me. I cannot linger for fear of giving the finger. (PS, had a buddy one time, he would raise his hand as if to give finger.. well, he did, but it was the ring finger, not the middle. I kinda like that.  It's an alternative hand gesture, cool in the presence of children mebbe.)

People who have a problem, so, someone offers a suggestion on how to help.. 'No, I tried that, I can't. yada yada yada."  Well have you tried this?  "Yes, that didn't help either." And so, you count on your fingers, trying hard not to stop and give the finger, just how many times they've said "nope, won't help" so you 'cipher, "this person chooses to be miserable...there is no suggestion, no Excedrin, no masseuse, no nuttin' that will make them happy." FRACK!  Let 'em go, let 'em go, let 'em go.

Incessance.  Could be a pencil tapper, for what seems like six years. Someone with the sniffles who 'wipes' (again and again) with their bare hand and you don't wanna look and see where they wiped it off. Maybe you're at a restaurant, classic music is on the juke, the dude next to you is a singer. Not a very good one.  Undaunted, he sings, EVERY song. You're at table 7, he's singing loud enough those at table 42 can hear.  GEE WILLIKERS, MOTHER OF PEARL, OH SHIP!  Will you shut up? (you think to yourself, but you don't say it, so, you suffer in misery in Missouri.)

They don't show signs of stopping
So I brought some bubble wrap for popping
Earbuds on, volume turned down low
Let em go, let em go, let em go..

On the road again. I'd love to wait and wait and wait insteada getting on the road again. Tailgaters. MOTHER FATHERS get off my tail! (No hand signals, too many carry nowadays.) You're at a stop sign, awaiting to turn right.  Car coming from the left in the distance.  You could probably make it, but you wait. And wait. And the car finally gets to you, TURNS RIGHT onto the street you are on WITH NO TURNSIGNAL!  How rude!  You, you TARTER SAUCE, you wasted my time!.....  People that stop, no matter what, at every intersection when their ain't no FRIGGIN stop signs telling you to stop. SUFFERIN' SUCCOTASH, UNCHAIN MY HEART, what's wrong with you?

He doesn't care if it's ten below
He's sitting on the brake pedal so..
He don't care about the car behind and that blows
Let em go, let em go, let em go...

"Ahm, don't you know who I am?"  In your mind you think, well, 'Unless you're with Publisher's Clearing House and you're here with my check for 100 million dollars, I really don't care who you are.'  OK, say you have a buddy who works at a golf course.  Guy comes up, want's to play.  It's a Holiday, line's out the door, your buddy is as busy as Lucy and Ethel were packing candy coming at them on that conveyor belt.  "Yessir, may I help you?" I want to play 18 holes. "OK, did you have a reserved tee time?" No, I'M A MEMBER. "Well H E double hockey sticks" your buddy thinks to himself.  Your buddy hands the guy a key.. says "This is the last cart, we're running low today it's so busy."  Don't you know who I am replies "Figured as much."  Well SHITAKE MUSHROOMS!

Oo-wee goes the storm
Why should he worry when he's Mr. Charm?
His ego's the size of an ice flow
Let em go, let em go, let em go...

Some rapid fires:  The person with 33 items in their cart at the "Express lane, 10 items only please."  When you gotta poo, and the guy in the stall stays in there long enough you coulda watched two episodes of 2 and a half men.  When you're in a hurry and a fellow senior citizen in line at the Piggly Wiggly checks out just in front of you and they insist on finishing telling the cashier a long, long story. Long lines, people that buy 13 lottery tickets of different kinds.  A fire this high, that burns my booty too!

OK, I've complained about complainers enough.  People that get on one's last nerve.  Mebbe.  Mebbe i did wake up on the wrong side of the bed.  There's a wall there, prolly why my head hurts.  OH SHIRT.

The people outside are frightful
To throw em in the fire would be delightful
Since we're nice and that's a no go
Let em go, let em go, let em go.

Should you need ammo though in case your kids or your grands are with you... here's a few more I kinda like: PEAS AND RICE!.. .SON OF A MONKEY!..  CORN NUTS!.. SNICKERFRITZ!...  SCHNIKES!... FART KNOCKER!... (kids might giggle at that onoe) AY CARAMBA!...  WHAT THE CUSS?

But of course.. I'm perfect.  Don't you know who I am?

By Henry Go To Help Gibson, ... preface by Wendy and Doug Whiner..   forward by Ol' Blue Eyes himself..

Love, Victurd

If you want to be happy for the rest of your life........

I always liked the 'upbeatedness' of that song, but I never really paid attention to the lyrics. Certain you probably know (I didn't) the next line is:

"Never make a pretty woman your wife, so for my personal point of view, get an ugly girl to marry you."

Well....no, that ain't it. Here.  Jump on, I'll give you a piggyback ride and mebbe point out some things that make me, and maybe you, happy.. warning.. you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a blog here.

I like watching parents.  They're like artists.  When they watch their kids and a smile ensues, it's as if they've taken a step back from the eisel and maybe offering a baby pat on their own back.  And then, when "uh oh" happens, the kiddo missteps, says something inappropriate, maybe starts to run across the street - whilst scary, to me it's wondrous to watch a parent teach, guide in the right direction, keep kiddos safe.

I love seeing a dog's head out the car window. It means the folks love that pooch so much, he/she really is considered  an integral part of the family.  I have to control myself though, cause I always get the itch to pull up next to 'em and say "Go get your ball!" And, yep, it makes me happy, and uh huh, it make the masters happy, but OH, does it make the hound dog happy - yesssiree!

A drive to nowhere to see God's artwork makes me happy.  With no disrespect to all the camera persons employed by Google Earth (you can't see it all from the laptop), nature is ever changing, ever wondrous. The colors, the wind, the sun, nature's seasons, the clouds above - it's a bonus if it happens to entail sunrise or sunset, that's when God does his finest work.

The moon. All up there by itself.  A beautiful thing, a happy thing. Me, this little speck down here, looking up, admiring, knowing that onea my friends from any part of the US could be doing the same thing, at the exact same time. Happy. (Of course humor makes one happy as well.. like when Tonto and Lone Ranger went camping.. they fell asleep.. hours later Tonto looks up, says "Kemo Sabe, look up, what you see?"  The Lone Ranger goes into a dissertation about 'millions of galaxies, billions of planets, Saturn is in Leo, the Lord is all powerful and we are small and insignificant, etc.. what's it tell you Tonto?"  "You dumber than buffalo turd, it mean someone stole our tent."  Humor, even attempts at, make me happy.

A little kid's sporting event. They've watched Lebron, Mike Trout, Simone Biles. They emulate. They get excited.  They excite.  After a nice play, a "WAY TO GO (enter snotnose name here)!!!" invokes happiness, even from the opponent's bleachers. Proud on any face, be it a kid, a parent, grandparent, neutral observer, invokes happy.

Folks who arrived on the planet before us. Maybe hand in hand. Maybe a hand holding an arm for assistance.. an opened car door, could even be a simple meeting of their eyes followed by a smile.  Old people rock.  Happy, even if mid-struggle. Old people make me happy.

Familiarity. It could be a car, a yard, a house, a hound, a song on the radio, a street, a ballfield, a school, an old friend, a young friend, something from our past that brings reminder happiness to our present. Memories are like chili in the fridge from last night's dinner. Tastes so great the first time, memories of, chowing down, virtually as good, mebbe even better, the second time.

Gone, but not really.  Loved ones, maybe no longer here on earth, but forever etched in our brain. 'Seeing' those faces again, bringing them back to life in our mind - what better.  Happy. Blessed to have been there when they were.

Courtesy. A door held, especially if it's like into a store where it means the person who got there first, is willing to offer their kindness, even if it means being in iine behind you. Kindness, when it means sacrificing one's personal time - oh how they were taught growing up.

Appreciation.  An entrepreneur who says "thank you" when they're really really thinking "because you bought, I can keep my business afloat, please know I'm appreciative." That's happy (smart also.) A genuine "thank you" from anyone - especially when coming from an unprompted little one. Happy.

Giving, givers.  Giving people are so gifted - if that makes sense.  "Dangit, they snuck up and gave to me again" - how do they do that without me seeing it coming?  I do hope they know how special (and happy) that makes me feel.

A fist bump, a high five, a handshake from a friend that about breaks your damn hand, how do they do that, I only wish I was that strong!

Watching, listening to, talent. A beautiful rendition of the world's most difficult song to sing, the Star-Spangled Banner. The shortstop in the hole diving to get the ball, regain his feet, fire a strike to first. A no look pass for an easy bucket. A short solo by (enter any instrument here). How do they do that? Their hours and hours and hours of practice, to be able to do this - makes me happy.

The people in life that you can't knock the dadgum happy off their face.  WHAT? Doesn't their underwear get holes too?  Don't they ache when they first stand up for the day?  Surely their bank account has come close to ZERO too eh?  I just know, somewhere, sometime, someone said something to them that wasn't nice, but, THERE THEY ARE, happy. I'm envious, and appreciative.  It's the people in the real life game show where they pick door #3 and it's a jackass insteada a trip to Tahiti or a brand new car - and they smile.  Hell to the yeah.  Choosing happy over every other option, blessed be those people.

Friends.  Is there anything better than liking and being liked?  Oh sure it ain't always rainbows and sugarplums, but we'll be damned if anything will halt this friendship!

Family. I love a family picture. I've a buddy who has, I think, 15 siblings.  Imagine the family picture with his folks, their kids, their kid's kids..I'm talking wide wide angle. A thing of beauty.  Happy.  All that?  From us?  YES.  And it's joyous.

In glancing at the above, I guess I'm a simpleton. Much makes me happy, and I'm very thankful for that.  I just heard the Kansas City Star hit the sidewalk out front.  Thank you Lord for allowing me another happy day.

By Happy Henry Gibson...  syrup on the edges compliments of Mrs. Butterworth,

Love, Victurd

I yam what I yam and that's all what I yam...

The alarm didn't go off.  I don't set one.  I'm old, retired.  I did awaken to internal shaking, tremors, heart palpitations, my REM's had left such a clatter...

Anudder dream... of yesteryear... slighly different set...timeline.. same characters. One'a them 'whew' dreams.  "It was just a dream."  I knew it wasn't Groundhog's Day, it was Christmas.

Oh yes it's Christmas, my favorite time of the year.. All the joy you dreamed of.. love in the atmosphere.  Oh Merry Christmas.. From me to you.. Merry Christmas.. May all your dreams come true..

Then, I did what I always do at 3am (yes, 3am, not to worry, went to bed at 8, all good). I made coffee. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to Facebook. So I did.

There were some GORGEOUS Merry Christmas postings, yum. Pics of kiddos from the night before staring at the gifts under the tree... and then that one post:

"Looking at life in the rear view mirror reveals your destiny."

I like the person who posted this, in fact he guides me on my Medicare Supplemental selection annually.  I also get the drift of the post, ya can't go forward using the rear view mirror for GPS.... but...

This is where those of you who've read here before will think "Oh crap, here he goes witha blog about yesteryear 'cause we know how much he likes yesteryear."

So, here goes a blog about yesteryear, 'cause you all know how much I like yesteryear.

We've all lost loved ones... again, I know this isn't what the poster was talking about, and he's right.. but too, the rear view mirror, according to Popeye, Dr. Phil, Joyce Brothers, I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam (because of, and thanks to) the rear view mirror.

I see mom there.  Dad too. My sister.  Loving grandparents, aunts, uncles, wonderful friends not afforded the opportunity to be here today.

I see........ weather outside that's frightful.   Christmas bulbs that heat up and boil the liquid inside so it jumps, bubbles, - and one wonders now why the cedar tree grandpa cut down off that country road didn't burst aflame.  I see stringed tinsel, so silvery and shiny.  I see popcorn on strings about the tree. I couldn't do that nowadays. I'm too fat, half the bag would be gone before I ever got the needle threaded.

I see the dinner table and all that fancified china granny gets out once a year. I see her apron.  I hear her, my mom, my aunts, singing and talking away in the kitchen.  I see my cousins and I playing tackle football out in the front yard, thank goodness I was 3 years older, 40 pounds heavier. I see a living room so fulla loving family, I didn't get claustrophobic because I didn't know what it was, nor how to spell it.

I remember hopping in the car in Liberty to head to my grandparents in Fulton, MO.  Driving down the 2 lane road, the predecessor to I-70. At least once, sometimes twice even, en route, dad would pass someone.  My sister and I clapped as he did. My folks grew up in Fulton.  I remember being 7 and being confused as we crossed the Boonville bridge and mom sighed, "ahhhh, I'm home."

I remember Christmas Eve dad and my uncles going 'bowling', but somehow coming home smelling of Schlitz.  I remember my sister being a year, maybe two past the 'having, enjoying a doll, dollhouse age'.. and she and my cousin stomping a huge, beautiful brand spankin' new metal doll house to smithereens in the backyard.

I remember the Billy Graham quotes on the wall.  Grandma and grandpa driving us from their house to my cousin's house a mile away.  Grandma hollering at grandpa as he drove 27 mph down the 25 mph street "Man! MAN!  You're gonna kill these children!"  I don't even remember if we had seat belts back then, don't think so.

I remember every year driving by the life size Santa looking out and waving from the 2nd floor balcony of the huge mansion at the beginning of Court Street. (Akin to Main Street leading to the Square in many a town.)

Forever etched are the Christmas Carols..  and then, the singers that sang 'em still with us:  Burl, Dean, Frank, Bing, Nat, Ella...

I remember, until I retired, those were the last times (oh, ages 6 thru 12) that I (and my cousins) awakened at 3am to wake up mom and dad to open presents.

I remember the time being just about the happiest I've ever been in life. It'll last forever, we never thought otherwise.

I remember how sad Christmas was the year my cousin spent in Viet Nam.  In looking back, I am so thankful my grandparents lived , very much 'with it' mentally until their end, and pretty much physically able until just before their end.

I remember "Mark, set, GO" to open presents, and, my grandmother, raised in the depression, soon after gathering the shreds of the wrapping paper to save the big pieces for the next Christmas.

I remember Uncle Tom, a bachelor for life, being there for Christmas. My grandmother's brother who had no place to go for Christmas, so grandma assured he had a place to go.

Yes, at this point, my destiny is all about working part time at a golf course until I can't.  Playing golf until I can't. Watching, loving grand kids as they sprout all too swiftly.  And then I'll probably forget my name, pee my pants, and be a kid all over again.

Fer sure, FORWARD MARCH.  But too, look with loving eyes into that rear view mirror.

We yam what we yam because of that mirror.  Objects today, for the most part, larger.

By Henry Hallmark Gibson.. forward (and look backward) by Gene Autry

Love, Victurd

Have your cake and eat it too?

One bourbon, one scotch and one fruitcake.

Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy cozy are we..  We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be..  Let's take that road before us and sing a chorus or two.. Come on it's lovely weather to share a fruitcake or two..

Gidddy-yap giddy-yap giddy-yap let's go... and the answer is no, as in hells no.

The poor fruitcake.  The fruitcake had always been a holiday staple. Loved by many, a family tradition and Christmas icon.. you can count the countries... Australia, Bulgaria, Canada, uno, dos, tres...France, Germany, Ireleand, quatro, cinco, seis, Italy, India, Mexico, siete, ocho, nueve, New Zealand, Poland, Portugal, diez, ahm.. forgot the rest, but you get the idea.  People loved it. And then.........

HHHHHEEEEEERRRRRREEEEE'SSSS JJJJJOOOOHHHHHNNNNYYYYYY!

Johnny made a joke about it. You don't think Johnny has power?  You think last year was the first ever toilet paper shortage?  Think again.  In 1973, he cracked a joke about a made up, county-wide shortage of toilet paper. Millions heard it, kajillions headed to the Piggly Wiggly, shelves were emptied, even ole Walter Cronkite said that's the way it is: "The Scott Paper Company, citing panic buying, said today it is implicating an allocation system for the national distribution of toilet tissue."  Johnny's remark was maybe the second most watched show just behind Ed Ames throwing the axe in the you know where on the target.

The hell was I?  Oh yeah, fruitcake.  November 22, 1978, Johnny said "The worst Christmas gift is a fruitcake. There is only one fruitcake in the world, and people keep sending it to each other." Katy bar the door - sales dropped to next to nothing.  The market was wiped out.  Kinda like the toilet paper was wiped out, eh, you know...

Thus, a long line of jokes about fruitcake started.  In an instant, it was regarded as a curiously heavy cake made with unknown ingredients, associated with aging family members, too dense to eat, relegated to use as a boat anchor, a doorstop, or a brick. (I stole virtually everything above, sorry.)

I barely remember seeing one as a kid.  I barely remember taking one bite, using my fork to spread the rest around the plate to try to make it look as if I had taken two bites. Great Aunt something or other had brought it I think.  Ain't seen one since.

When is a fruitcake like a golfball?  When it's sliced.

"Reality is like a fruitcake; pretty enough to look at but with all sorts of nasty things lurking just beneath the surface."  A. Lee Martinez

What did the fruitcake say to the fork?  "Do you want a piece of me?"

"Friends are the fruitcake of life, some nutty, some soaked in alcohol, some sweet."   Jon Ronson

Suggested uses for a fruitcake:

Use slices to balance a wobbly table...  Use insteada sandbags during El Nino...  As speed bumps..  Railroad ties..   Save for next summer's garage sale.. Two words, pin cushion.. .  

"A gross cake-like thing that consists of nasty spices, nuts, and dried fruit. 'The trash compactor is full so just dump that in a pan for now.' - Inventor of the fruitcake"

Hint from Heloise:  Buy a bidet in case there is another TP shortage, or, if perhaps someone forces you to eat a piece of fruitcake.

I'll get out of your hair. I know you've got tons to do. Presents to wrap, travel plans, gas the car up, change the oil, get Timmy and Tina's good holiday outfits washed, pressed.. Men, you'd better start shopping.  If you're hardheaded and you INSIST and you've got the spare time.. ... Here's a 25 hour recipe for the Best Fruitcake in the World:  https://www.abeautifulplate.com/worlds-best-fruitcake/

What happens when no one comes to your Christmas Party?  But of course, you can have your fruitcake and eat it too, or, mail it to Aunt Martha next Christmas.

By Henry Hallmark Gibson, forward by Guy Fieri.

Love, Victurd

 

North Pole, 2021

 Mrs. Claus was concerned.  She awakened Santa one night to say "Honey, I've noticed all of the elves are really, really depressed.  We work them like dogs, don't pay 'em overtime, and it's rare for them to have a day off.  What can we do?"   Jolly ole Santa started his reply "Ho, ho, ho".. Mrs. Claus stopped him, "That ain't gonna cut it. You're always happy, jolly, I'm truly worried."

Santa thought and thought... finally "Howabout, we have a contest for the bestest elf..kinda like the one Rudolph won, but this one for elves.. We'll run it starting in December, instead of us picking the winner, we'll let the elves. We'll call it, Elf Is #1".  Mrs. Claus loved the idea - and Santa promised to announce it the next day.

That he did, all the elves sitting in the lunch room on the tree stumps they had whittled - the "Elf Is #1" was announced to start.. "Now you gotta pick, not the Mrs and I, nor the reindeer. You.  Pick which elf you feel is the most valuable, contributed the most, and come Christmas Eve, you'll vote and we'll crown "Elf Is #1". They cheered, forgot, at least temporarily, all about working 7 twelve hour shifts a week.

"I know what i'm gonna do" said Spinner Elf..  "I'm gonna make a top with my lathe, and it'll be the best top ever, and I is planning on being "Elf Is #1."  Elf EAP (they called him EAP 'cause he was in charge of their Elf Assistance Program" said, "That's a wonderful idea Spinner, but start right away because It's Now Or Never."  "Thanks" Spinner replied.

All of the elves lived in the forest. EAP lived in an old tree, and the landlord, well, she was kind of a drunk.  In fact, they called the place Mrs. Sips Tree.  EAP lived in the basement, two floors down.  His formal address was TwoBelow Mrs. Sips Tree. All the elf tenants teased, kinda sorta, how awful and rundown the place was. EAP agreed, and he kept calling it "In the Ghetto."

401K Elf (they called him that 'cause he never spent a dime of what Santa paid him, invested wisely) lived in a HUGE tree all by himself, more square foot than all of the Mrs. Sips Tree combined.  He was clever though and the other elves enjoyed his company. He announced, "I too am gonna try to be Elf Is #1.  I'm gonna hide every day in a different room in my house, yous guys come and try to find me, then take a picture if you do!"  The elves agreed to come hunt him daily.  EAP was concerned about 401K's well being, what living by himself and all, so he asked "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" "Nah," 401K replied, holding up his wallet, "I've got this to keep me company!

Many of the elves were dirt poor. In fact, those living in Mrs. Sips Tree were the poorest.  She could be pretty mean when it came time the rent was due.  She'd holler and scream "I want my money and I want it NOW!"  Many of the elves developed PTSD (Post Treematic Stress Disorder) from her always chiding them.  EAP finally spoke up on their behalf one day. "Ma'am, it's all well and good that you expect your money on rent day, but please treat us elves with a little respect, Don't Be Cruel."  All the po' elves cheered, Mrs. Sips said she would try to be nicer.

One sunny December day, the elves were at lunch. Shy Dude elf (that's what they called him) had a sad look on his face.  Spinner asked "Whatsup Shy Dude?"  Shy Dude admitted he was fairly depressed, uncertain if this was the life for him.  In fact, he told them all he considered going home, packing everything and moving to PhiladELFia.  "NO," cried 401K elf. "We'd miss you terribly" Spinner added.  EAP perhaps summed it up best with "We'll have a blue Christmas, without you."  Shy Dude promised he would think about it awhile.

PC Elf (they called him that 'cause he LIVED on the computer) announced "I'm gonna try to win the Elf Is #1 contest.  I'm gonna mass produce, as fast as I can, computer notebooks for all the kids Santa will deliver to."  The elves, seating on their little stumps, all groaned at once 'cause they knew, if PC pulled that off, he'd easily win the Elf Is #1 contest. EAP surveyed the crowd, thought to himself "They're All Shook Up, uh huh huh, mm mm, mm, yay, yay, yay."  He told his buddies to never give up, try try try because "You Are Always On My Mind" and they appreciated EAP saying that.

EAP tired of living two floors below ground.  And Mrs. Sips Tree's attitude was getting to him too. So, he called MLS Elf and asked him if there were any vacancies anywheres.  "Sure enough" MLS replied - so after work he took EAP on the sleigh, drove and explored every vacant tree in the land.  EAP finally settled on a tree owned by Memph Elf.  It was a tall, mighty tree.  Many of the elves helped him pack and move.  His formal address was now "Memph's TennantTree."

One Friday evening, exhausted as the work bell finally rang, EAP walked by the Church on his way home.  He heard very loud weeping coming from the Church.  He peeked in, thought he saw Mrs Shy Dude crying, but wasn't sure.  At lunch the next day he tapped her on the shoulder, said "I think I saw you Crying In The Chapel"... "Yes," she admitted.  She didn't wanna leave the North Pole, but it was Shy Dude's urge to move to PhiladElfia that worried her.  "Oh we know, " EAP started.. "we've talked to him, he understands how you feel, and we all know for you he's got a hunka hunka Burning Love, so we don't think he'll move.

Twas December 23rd.  After work, Santa gathered the Elves back in the lunchroom and they sat on their whittle stumps. "Just a reminder, tomorrow you vote for Elf Is #1, so be thinking about who you will vote for."

12/24 had finally arrived. Before work and before they started to help Santa load his sleigh, they met (Minus the dudes who expressed their intent to be Elf Is #1) in the Elfeteria to discuss exactly those running for Elf Is #1.  "I really like Spinner's top idea" one elf hollered.  "Yeah, but, kids may have a Wooden Heart, but they don't want toys like that, they want electronics."  "Yeah, you're right."

"Maybe PC should win then?" annuder elf piped up with, "every kid wants a tablet today."  Wise old elf countered with "Not so fast young'n, don't you remember all the problems Ford, Chevy, Chrysler are having getting computer chips from the Far East?  It's my guess, every time PC mails an order over there, it'll comeback to his mailbox marked "Return To Sender"...."Right you are old wise old elf."

"Howabout 401K" a voice hollered from the back of the room. They thought and they thought, it's admitted, there were Suspicious Minds, finally one spoke "yeah but, he is clever, but all he cares about is money, he's kinda shelfish."  Uh huh, they all chimed in.

Wise Old Elf spoke just before the elves convened. "at lunch today, just vote with your heart.  It's really Now Or Never, so think think think, and pick someone who we'd be proud of The Wonder Of You."

Shortly after work, Santa downed a 24 hour energy drink, and stood by Mrs. Claus.  They'd called in the Little Drummer boy for assistance..  Old Wise Elf handed Santa the envelope with the winner's name.  Santa nodded at Little Drummer boy for a drum roll, he responded in kind.  Santa opened the envelope, read the name to himself, his eyes surveyed the room fulla elves, and finally announced "Seems like this guy is your Good Luck Charm... the winner of the Elf Is #1 is........... EAP!" They cheered, clapped, standing ovation.  Before calling EAP up, Santa suggested, "Maybe we can just call him 'Elf is' for short!"

"Speech, speech" they hollered. "Well thank ya," EAP kinda stuttered, "thankya very much. I'm gonna take a vacation.  We're all gonna take a vacation, we've earned it.  I'm gonna take my Hound Dog, shoot me a rabbit.  I'm gonna buy me some new Blue Suede Shoes, maybe catch a plane to Viva Las Vegas!" Again they cheered, happy they all were.

It wasn't much of a secret Priscilla Elf had a crush on EAP, er, Elf is.  As he left the podium, she said "There Goes My Everything."

The elves all celebrated by drinking 67 bottles of elfnog, in fact, by the end of the night Rudolph wasn't the only one with a red nose. 'Elf Is' even sat at the same table as Priscilla Elf. Would she be his Good Luck Charm? Should he write her Love Letters? Time only will tell.

Santa finally sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle, but we heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

By Henry Elf Gibson, and elf biography, so to speak.

Love, Victurd

You need an attitude adjustment young man!

It's the hap happiest time, of the year - BUT.. holy guacamole do we make adjustments.

That there word:  adjustment.  How feeeeeeenominal of a word is it?  It's everything.  Lord knows if we didn't have one Andy Reid at the helm to make adjustments - dunno where we'd be. Well, maybe like the Detroit Lions.

Christmas is all about adjustment.  I remember I'd purchased one of the grandkids an article of clothing from WallyWorld - don't even remember which grand or what the article was - but, an adjustment was needed.  Didn't fit.  We (my daughter inlaw and I) were going to WallyWorld for something December 26 of one year... as we left the car to go in she grabbed a sack and said "I'm gonna take this in and exchange it for the right size."  Being old and grumpy, but to not surprise her by the line at customer service I offered "Are you sure?" And of course in line at Customer Service was seemingly 3/4ths of Clay County.  "Oh.  I think I'll wait until next time we come."  An adjustment for the adjustment. Good call.

Divorce, birth, death.. .wow..  adjustments annually it seems. New job mebbe, old job/new boss mebbe.. retirement mebbe - adjustment.  You, me and the gym.  Kinda like those magnets where you take whichever pole it is so it's impossible to get 'em together.. and... you, me and the gym are like that.  So, we adjust, our belt size.  Our pant size. Our rationalization size. In our chest of drawers, the bottom one is for the pant size we outgrew 6 years ago, the next drawer up is for the pants we outgrew this past year (ok damnit, three years ago) but we ain't gonna throw 'em away because we're gonna make adjustments in our eating, exercising.... uh huh, and the Detroit Lions are gonna win the Super Bowl next year.

Divorce.  Mid-slumber, ya reach across the bed, feel for your mate.. your hand pats the mattress three times, then you remember "oh yeah, she (or he) left, forgot." Adjustment.  WHAT?  I have to cook?  I've GOT this!  Now... which one is the stove?  So, you rescue a dog or a cat, play that 'hard candy Christmas' song by Dolly... and life, thanks to adjustment, I'll be fine and dandy.

Death - adjustment is much more difficult.  When we're reminded, we somehow always swallow, and it's hard to swallow.  The eyes moisten up a bit, the head tilts toward the ground - then we realize we must, we must we must - lift ourselves back up.  Much much worse than having to adjust having pants two sizes bigger - death is the most difficult adjustment there is - as it will NEVER be the same.  On we go. Kinda sorta. If we must.  We gotta.  They'd want us to.  Adjust. I/we will try.

A little one. Baby's first Christmas - what better?  Amidst all the clatter and chatter, in the middle of a score of relatives, they snooze soundly in the bassinet. And, adjustment between baby's first Christmas and second Christmas, wow.  Harold?  Look around for ANY small item that baby might try to put in his/her mouth.  I've noticed, if they can't eat it, they'll sit on it.  I know the Christmas tree looks weird with no lights on the bottom third of the tree, but, it's GOT to be, thataway (adjustment.)

As baby ages, adjustments are made..  early, they sit on Santa's lap and snooze, all good.  The next year it's "OH MY GOD, IT'S A FAT MONSTER, I'VE NEVER SEEN SO MUCH HAIR, I'M CRYING, PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME SIT ON HIS LAP."  To, "I can't wait to tell Santa exactly what I want, and that I've been a good (boy/girl).. to, one leery eye on the fat man, "Johnny told us at recess there ain't no Santa Claus..and I believe him, this dude's beard just doesn't look real."

I heard a friend say one time, "I've been dirt poor, and I've had occasion where I bought anything I ever wanted." In this day and age where a sheet of plywood goes for more than I paid for my very first car, and.. where ground beef is now considered a luxury, I think being on the poor end of things, in spite of how yucky it might feel to be that way, makes one sooooo proud to be able to adjust, forfeit personal things, ways of living - just to buy for little ones, family.  I know a family, BARELY getting by, they'd start in June and buy one gift for one of their kids on payday. And again the next paycheck.  Etc.  Proud. Proud they were to have made those adjustments to provide for their kiddos.

Where it usedta be, we'd gather at granny's on the 24th, this sibling got this bedroom, this sibling got that bedroom, the cousins were very very content with 'pallets' on the living room floor, next to the Christmas tree.  "Maybe we can catch Santa thisaway!" Awaken, YEAH!  It's Christmas! Toooooooooooooooooooooo now:

Well, let's see the weekend before Christmas, we'll go to your folks house.. then Wednesday and Thursday, we can take Johhny to my ex'es for their Christmas.. On the actual Christmas, we'll take your Susie to your ex'es because it's 'her year' to have the for Christmas.  Christmas for us at Granny's, then, Christmas at the other granny on... and your granny's on...  where the hell was I? Oh yeah, I was adjusting.  I feel the need for a nap, but not on a pallet.  Gimme gimme gimme my sleep number bed.  You can come too and adjust your own damn side.

Christmas.  Adjustments mean different cities.  Different years sometimes.  "We can't come this year, but I guarantee we will be there in 2022."  Different modes of travel.  Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we'll go, the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh (VICTOR!  You're pushing it!)  Let's stick to planes trains and automobiles ok?   Sure.  I remember, sister and I in the backa the station wagon. She'd 'call' the seat right behind our folks, so I was left to sit in the very backa the station wagon. I was getting to the age of, "Ok, cool."

Now.  NOW.  You strap little Jonathan in SOOOO tighly in his carseat, it'd take an act of Congress to get him out.  We all know nowadays, how easy it is the get an act of Congress eh?

A newby to the family. No, not talking snotnose (sorry, kinda).. talking a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a new hubby or wifey.  Oh we're polite as all get out (and they too in kind) but we watch every damn move to make sure they ain't an axe murderer, gold digger, alchy, all that.

I've rambled, apologies.  I'll get outta here but first, one more adjustment.  Aging. Blessed are those of us given the opportunity to age. As we watch, listen, love at Christmas time - it takes us back to 'our day' as a little guy (or gal).. at a teen.. young adult.   Young parent..  One of my fondest, most recent memories was watching my son, screwdriver in right hand, instructions in left hand, 200+ parts of a toy he must assemble in front of him.  Ahhhhh (with smile), good luck son, brb, I'm going for a Miller Lite now!

Practiced parent - and now, GRAND.  As a grandparent.  As we look across the room, we too envision yesteryear and we can virtually see all those no longer here.  Remembering is such a wonderful part of adjustment.

As we've aged, gone through those adjustments - we also remember it goes back decades to our folks and our grandparents reliving those memories of younger days.

In spite of all the adjustments, sleighs, planes, trains, automobiles, this sidea the family this day, that side that day, tots, ornamentless bottoms of trees, pallets, carseats, those new ones, those gone.. it's a wonderful, wonderful tradition.

Hours and hours of wrapping presents, shredded to bits in milliseconds.  The smiles afforded by allowing the eyes to follow the tots, watch them open gifts with wondrous anticipation.. the meeting of eyeballs to those you've met their eyeballs year after year after year.  Remembering the eyeballs, smiles of those no longer around.

Christmas is a darn good adjustment.

Certainly NOT asking for pity.  I'm happy as a lark, however happy that is, must be good, it's been quoted a kajillion times.  Divorced twice, parent of a divorced child, he one state, the grands just across the line in another. Only remaining member of my nuclear family.  I've had a wondrous life.  I've had way too many damn jobs, but loved them, adjusted to them all.  Wondering though, maybe I shoulda been a chiropractor, they're the best at adjustments.

By Henry Gibson.. forward by Pancho Gonzales (Feliz Navidad)

I want to wish you a Merry Christmas from the bottom of my heart!

Love, Victurd

Did you notice that too?

Things I've noticed about my favorite people.

They are consistent. 

Their focus is on you (and of course on others/anyone in their lives).

Their focus is genuine.

They give that remarkably same smile time in and time out.  Begs one to ask "Don't you have crappy days like me?... Don't you awaken some days like me with a "Go to hell world, I ain't got it in me today."?... "How do you do it when I know there have to be days/times where you don't feel well?"

They do not speak disparagingly about anyone.

They seem to have a really really nice knack for knowing the right thing to say.

They walk in front of you, touting you.  They walk beside you, holding you up.  They walk behind you, always having your back and ensuring you keep going.

People like them.

They like people.

They are very, very family orientated.

They have an affinity for children.

They help when you need it, somehow know exactly when you need it, and you ain't even gotta ask 'em for help.

They compliment, and it ain't fluffy, ie, they compliment the right things, when warranted.

You never ever get a queasy tummy when they are on caller ID, and you answer. When you receive a text from them, it's usually uplifting, and you're quick to respond.

They have this innate ability to know when to call, when to text, when to knock on your door.

You smile after seeing their smile.

They are the Hans and Franz to your ego, your attitude, your mood.

When you tell them something, they listen intently with both eyes on yours.

They never ever blurt and hurt. How do they not do that?

When they speak, you listen and watch them in awe as they somehow have the exact right words to reply no matter how depressing the situation it, or, how wonderful it it.

They enjoy fun, oft times, they create it.

They speak preciously about things that are precious to you.

Uniquely, they flatten all the hills of this roller coaster of life, they straighten every turn of a difficult path.

They teach, without 'grading'. They listen, without judging.

They are at every turn, every pay grade, small town, big metropolis, tiny house, big big house, doesn't matter.  The only thing they flaunt is love.

They love.

Thus, we love.

They make loving, living fun.

They are thankful.

Good Lord - we are too.

Merry Christmas good people.  You make it that way,

By Henry Gibson, forward by Fleetwood Mac, preface by Hallmark.

Love, Victurd

Fore play.......

If you don't play, it's all good. If you play and you're really good, bless you (and i hate you, just kidding.)  If you play, and you're really bad, like me, welcome to the jungle.

Above all else.  I kinda think of that for a lotta people.  It's their 'above all else.'  People have very diverse forms of 'above all else.'  Fishing, hunting, shopping, sewing, eating, drinking, playing video games (may Farmville invitations thankfully rest in peace). Family. Another person. Money. Work. Look at me. I wanna help you.  I wanna help doggies, kitties. Smartphones. Caffeine. Grammar. Yelling. Being right. Politics. Gambling. Tattoos. Tanning. Exercise. Social media. Religion. Sex. 

Some 'above all else's' are worse than other above all elses. I don't know if we wholly ever devote 100% of our time to an above all else.  I think balance oft times is good, and be sure an listen close to my advice because I've been in way too many relationships, had too many dadgum jobs and my 401K is more like a 104K. Har.  Humor.  I guess humor could be added to above all else.  Self deprecation too.

I like golf.  Maybe not above all else, cause there's a lotta above all else up there I like too.  I think of the man (or woman) on that board that's atop a hard, round object, and you teeter back and forth balancing, trying not to fall on your derriere.

I must admit, I like eating, drinking, shopping (sometimes), Sudoku, family, friends, gambling, doggies, kitties, caffeine, grammar, social media, sex.. and golf.  Those who "OMG'ed" me saying sex, be for real, you do too. 

I'm six paragraphs in and I really haven't even discussed golf, so it must be only a 'kinda all in' for me. I do love me some golf. Golf is like clothing, there are all kinds.  Golf is like eating, there are also all kinds. Golf is unique, like a lot of things.

Golf usually involves having a partner in the cart with you. When Covid first happened, this wasn't allowed. "Only one person per cart." Health department's rules.

We have a foursome, basically the same foursome always. It's kinda like a marriage, who rides with you, and usually it's the same person.  No, I don't mean 'oh baby oh baby' marriage, I mean like Ren and Stimpy, Beavis and Butthead, Zach and Screech,  Laverne and Shirley, Fred and Barney, Norm and Cliffy, you get the idea.

When you start play, no one knows how you will do.  Kinda like waking up in the morning, "what will this day bring?"  I suck.  Sure I'd love to be good, but how boring, mundane, yucky would that be to hit the ball and know exactly where it's going to go every time.  Hell, I get three shots to my partner's one, and I take the scenic path around the course.  Again, really good, to me, is boring.  Of course that's rationalization, but hey, it's all I've got.

Golf is beautiful.  Beautiful I guess, if you love nature.  I've seen snakes, owls, squirrels aplenty, deer, herons, Canadian geese, Canadian geese awaiting eggs to hatch, their 'nest' is by the 18th teebox and they squawk like hell if you get near.  They cater to these future duckies until hatched from egg, then they hatch, they play a rather cute follow the leader (momma, daddy, duckling, duckling, ducking, duckling, etc, etc).. They learn to fly, whoosh, that's all over.  No meeting again for Christmas, no "Dad, can I borrow a hunnerd", No "we're going on vacation can you watch the baby duckies?"  That's it.  A course of nature. And they do it again the next year.  Where was I?

Golf is therapeutic.  It is beautiful.  Wondrous green manicured lawns with nature, the forest sitting near. It's a right nice place to sit, pray and be thankful - and I've done this on countless occasions.

Dress is all important.  For some.  For me, it's whatever is clean, whatever fits the weather, doesn't necessarily have to match perfectly, but since I ain't married, I'm left to say to myself "Are you really gonna wear that?"  I'm not big on matching things, the newest fads, the looking in the mirror.  Some are, an that's ok.  It's part of their above all else.

Millionaires.  I have played with millionaires.  I have noticed, millionaires don't buy tees.  They look all about the teebox for tees someone else has left.  If they cannot find an unbroken one, they will hunt until they find one suitable to hold the ball.  It can be frustrating, because quite honestly one sits in the cart and thinks to themself "He's a GD (gosh darn) millionaire, he's too cheap to buy tees, and he wastes our time doing this (hunting a tee).  There are people behind us, we need to scadoodle." Millionaires don't care. It'$ their above all else.  Lord have mercy should they hit a ball into the forest. I might as well bring my phone and binge watch Cheyenne while they look for an hour and a half for their ball.  Never mind the fact they bought the box of golf balls at Sams or Costco for roughly $1.23 per ball, that be like gold to them.

We po' people. Until I recently 'splurged' for a set of irons on EBay for $75 (that's way too cheap, good irons are in excess of $1500), I had a set of hand me downs, many clubs didn't match. We po' people, we do, pretty frequently, hit 'em in the woods too.  There, we take a really brief look, but too, we might come out with four additional balls to play with for a few rounds, and it's kinda our above all else.

Anger. Anger happens on the golf course. I assume it's kinda like being in a relationship, your partner does something that really annoys you, and they do it again, and then again, and, you reach a point you can't take it. So, alternatives are:  cussing. Throwing your club. Walking up to find your ball, feverishly, decidedly and purposely hitting it into the woods so far you won't go find it, and don't wanna. You "pickup" in golf lingo, meaning you forfeit the hole and go to the next one.

I, sometimes, love when my buddies have these fits of anger, because I try to resort to humor to make it fun for them.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it pisses em off even more and I then I back off. Enjoyment is my above all else, same for most of us, but too, sometimes score is a person's above all else.

Extreme anger for me is usually saying "I'm gonna take up bowling instead,", or, "Damnit darnit". Or,"Victor, don't be an idiot and turn one mistake into two.'  But.. but.. if it gets really bad, that's when I take out a pink ball I found (don't shoot me ladies please) because it's the only color I really deserve to play with.  Forgive me Father for I have played with MANY female golfers who are better than I, it's just the idea of a pink ball = sissy, wimp.

Guys don't open up much.  Somehow, the golf course changes that. We do. We learn all about marriages, kids, grandkids, car woes, body parts hurting, arguments, travel, you name it, we talk about it. The one no-no I have noticed is men don't kiss and tell.  Not that sex isn't talked about, it's just you don't talk about your own.

Gimmes.  Gimmes cause more consternation than virtually anything else in golf. A gimme is when your opponent hits a ball so close to the hole you 'concede' that he's going to make it and he doesn;t have to putt. When betting, this can get intense.  You get back in the cart with your partner after an opponent refused to say "That's good" and you hear things like "That asshole, his putt on #7 was twice as far and I gave it to him."  I get it, but too, I get a kick out of folks getting all shiver me timbers excited.

So... the round is finished, you head to the car to put your clubs up, take the cart back to the clubhouse, head inside for refreshments.  Bets are paid up, sometimes someone will grab the card from the scorekeeper, which provides another shiver me timbers moment, "What?  You don't trust me?"  Ha!

One sip, golf is forgotten, then it's on to discussion about much. Current events, past events, future events. Problems (or good things) about spouses, kids, grandkids, neighbors, common friends, coworkers, past lovers, knee replacement, hip replacement, "Another beer please" replacement, "Did you hear about so and so?"  "No, i don't remember so and so."  "Remember so and so in high school and how pretty she was? Well, I'm here to tellya" and it's proceeded to tell how one has declined, and we, guys who sit with belts ten inches longer than back in the day, are astonished. Uusally though, it's all very good and happy talk.  If it wasn't, why would we go and do it?

Golf is my place to go and forget about just leaving the auto fixer shop with $887 worth of new brakes and a new power steering high pressure hose.  It's my back to nature. It's my back to friends. It's my "moving, not dying yet." With buddies I've known for 60 years, it's my home. They are very nice to me and I try to respond in kind.  Kind is a good thing.

I love any, every thing about golf. Even golf itself. It's not for all, and that's ok.  It's one of my 'above all else's.

By Henry Gibson.  Fore ward by Chi Chi Rodriguez.

Love, Victurd

*Editor's note.  There is much luck in a hole in one. I have seen two of my buddies do it. Many play forever never having one.  Some, with luck, get more than one. One summer, I played faithfully, Monday through Friday, 18 holes a day, walking. I never approached skinny, but I was close.  I play on a par 3 course. All holes are par 3.  You figure playing five times a week, that's 90 holes a week, all summer - your odds for a hole in one are halfway decent. Again, I'm NOT a good golfer.  Luck happens.  I got one.  There was a mark 5' from the hole where it hit and it rolled right in.  I WAS ALONE.  As in, there ain'tno ain'tno witnesses (ceptin me an God.) It takes a human witness for it to count. Telling this only because it really fits the nature of this blog, Check Engine Light. Above all else, it's why I write.

Wake up Maggie....

 It's late September and I really should be back in school. (Sir Roderick David Stewart is 76, back in school?)

School's out for the summer... school's out, forever.  Vincent Damon Furnier, aka Alice Cooper hasn't been in school for 56 years.

One bourbon, one scotch and one beer...  This song was written in 1953 by Rudy Toombs, the year Maker's Mark by Jim Beam came out.  In 2014, Japan's Suntory bought Beam, Inc. for 16 billion dollars. George Thorogood could not afford that, letalone a scotch and a beer (and rent money).

I'm Dreaming Of A White Christmas.  Irving Berlin wrote it in 1942. I know I know, most popular version by Bing Crosby.  Berlin and his family came to Ellis Island, New York in 1893. Maybe Irving dreamed of it 'cause it didn't happen that often. In fact, it's only happened 21 times in NYC since the Berlins arrived from Belarus.

Why Don't We Do It In The Road was written by good ole Paul in 1968.  During 'rut season' bucks chase does in attempt to possibly do it in the road.  Since this song was written, may 68.9 million deer rest in peace from roadkill accidents. Two of the 68.9 million I am accountable for.  Winged another, but he got up and went on, hopefully 'reaching his goal.'

Paradise By The Dashboard Lights was written in 1977 by Jim Steinman, and of course sung by Michael Lee Aday (aka Meat Loaf)... No Meat Loaf, don't worry, it ain't gotta last until the end of time. In fact, since you sang this there have been over 33,000,000 divorces.  Don't think on it, go for it.

The Girl From Ipanema.. Long ago, Viniius de Moraes would watch the beautiful Heloisa Eneida Menezes Paes Pinto walk by to enter a bar where she would buy cigarettes for her mother.  As she departed, there were always 'wolf whistles' by the men nearby. The girl from Ipanema, "tall and tan and young and lovely" is now 76 years old.

Tomorrow, a show song written for the musical Annie, and performed by a little redheaded brat (relax, I'm redheaded too).. indicates the sun'll come out tomorrow.  Since this was written, there have been 12,428 days in Anchorage Alaska without sun.

Betty Davis Eyes.. . were they still around, they would be 113 years old.

Anthony Dominick Benedetto was drafted into the Military in 1944, the final stages of WWII, but, he would see extensive combat duty as his unit was sent to fill in for the heavy losses suffered in the Battle of the Bulge. In March of 1945, he joined the front line, and would later describe it as "a front row seat in hell." Hit unit crossed the Rhine and entered Germany, engaging in dangerous house-to-house, town-after-town fighting to clean out German soldiers. He narrowly escaped death numerous times. At the war's end, he was involved in the liberation of a Nazi concentration camp near Landsberg, where some American prisoners had also been held.  Anthony returned to the US, had his first (song) hit in 1951.  Some 70 years later, he would team with Lady Gaga for an album released this year (2021). You know him better as Tony Bennett, now 95 years young.

Every Breath You Take...... written by Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner, aka Sting, recorded by The Police.  After extensive research on the song, the song meaning, I'm still confused as all get out. Some say 'love song', Sting say 'no.'  It was written at a time he'd just separated from Frances Tomelty, and began a relationship with Trudy Styler, who, oops, happened to be Frances's best friend.  "It's a nasty song," he would say, "really rather evil, about jealousy and surveillance and ownership."  I still ain't sure what all that means, but here's where we note the parties involved have now taken 327.6 million breaths each, since.  Know you were just waiting for that.

Tossin' and Turnin'... good ole Richie Adams and Malou Rene wrote this, and it was recorded by Bobby Lewis in the fall of 1961.  Consider that the average person turns over in their sleep 13 times an hour, sleeps an average of 8 hours per night, 365 days a year, 64 years since this was sung, Bobby Lewis (and us fellow old farts) have now tossed and turned 2,429,440 times. Some more, some who I always see on FB at 4am, less.

Centerfold, 1981 by the J. Geils Band.  May the Centerfold rest in peace.  Hugh decided Playboy would stop publishing nudes in 2015. Still, since J wrote this song, there had been 480 Centerfolds. That's 1,440 staples based upon three per issue, I never looked.  1,920 limbs.  960 boobies.  (Just keeping you abreast).

I can tell you're getting bored.  Me too.  Speakinowhich, the average person gets bored 131 days a year, so, for me, I've been bored for 9,039 days of my life, or, basically I've been bored for 24.764 years.  Ain't that the truth.

Needless to say, written because I was bored.  Sorry. Kinda.

By Henry Gibson, figures double checked by The Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Love, Victurd

Power steering......

Holy guacamole..  we take lots for granted.  I've become a fan of the show Homestead Rescue.  Basically, it's a father, son and daughter - and they traverse the US assisting homesteaders in great need of help for one entire week.

Holy guacamole.  I freak out when I learn, remember, yesterday I used the very last spec of butter and I want a cinnamon toast (bread, sugar, butter) NOW.  I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT NOW!!

These folks, the homesteaders in need of rescue.  Geez.  First, I love their idea, getting the heck out of Dodge, no traffic, no Glady Kravetz's, no same ole same ole just because everyone else does routine...  I've always said "I want to live so far out I can go get the newspaper in my undies.".. Well, these folks live so far out they don't even deliver newspapers there.  But, tis their wish.

So, my tears for no butter hardly compare to their tears for no running water, no electricity, no real pot to pee in, leaky roofs, unfit soil to harvest anything, bears - jaguars - bobcats - fox, all breaking into pens to devour chickens, goats, ducks, you name it.  Help, I need somebody, help, not just anybody, help - you know I need someone!

So, the Raney family (the Homestead Rescuers) find a spring, fix a roof, sometimes even tear down old shacks, build anew.. improve soil, bring solar energy, or, energy provided by a nearby rushing river, they teach people how to hunt, they make pens impenetrable by the above mentioned critters - all very inexpensively and oft times, using material, trees already on site.  No way in hell I'd live like that (I enjoy seeing yoga pants at the Piggly Wiggly too much) - but admire them, and somehow it really intrigues me.

Today, first thing this morning, I go to automobile fixer shop because my power steering is out.  Driving down the road, trying to make a left turn with no power steering is like homesteading with no water, peeing with pee not having anywheres to go, bears, bobcats, foxes, yada, no light when it's dark.. kinda sorta.  I've always had wimpy arms, but holy guacamole (sorry, I just really really like to say that) it's damn hard to turn a car when the steering is out. One love I have is driving around the old Square in my hometown.  Criminy.  Four, COUNT 'EM, four left turns.  After that, I feel like I remember feeling at the end of a cross country meet when i was 16, totally, completely, worn out.

Homesteading, power steering, life, does that to one.

Getting down is an aspect for all of us. I no believe you if you say you are always peachy keen and you don't need scented aerosol after you go #2.  Sometimes, life, we, all stink.  So what do we do?  I thought you'd never ask.

Before we seek answers - let's also remember the time of year.  YES, it's glorious.  Yes, the Reason for the Season.  Yes, it's family, jollity.  But it can also mean empty chairs where there usedta not be an empty chair.  The desire to purchase the very best presents for friends, loved ones - but simply economically not being able to do so.  Homesteading, power steering, sometimes, Tis the season to hurdle folly.

So, what do we do when down?  Well, if you ain't got electricity on toppa Mt Hood, you call the Raney family.  If you need Lou Ferrigno arms just to make a left turn, you call auto fixer shop.  If you are emotionally down, this is where I preach,  HA, you know me better - this is where I Google to see if there's help available.

I found a site that seems helpful from the UK.  I know, I know, sometimes it's hard to understand English from a UK person.  Heck, I got a buddy that moved here from London in 1977 and I still can't understand him - and he can't understand me.  Oh well, when I think of the UK I think of Judy Carne and "sock it to me" and it sounds fun, so let's see what they say:

They list 5 things.

1) Connecting with others.  This ain't specifically meaning grab 3 friends, play golf, or grab 10 friends, go to Happy Hour, or Laverne and Shirley calling Lucy and Ethel to go shopping.  "Connecting means you see and appreciate someone for who they really are and allow them to see and appreciate who you really are."  OK, I can attest to this.  When we, four of us, do go play golf, it's great. We say "nice shot" or, make fun, compete, have a few beers, talk Glory Days, high school women - that's all well and good - but, my favorite part is riding to the golf course each time with my lifelong buddy.  I've learned so much about him, and he about me - for whatever reason we open up to each other.  Just shoot me, it's emotionally good.

2) Keep active. No, this doesn't necessarily mean joining the gym, cutting carbs, sugar, doing keto crap (sorry, kinda).. eating kale insteada vanilla wafers.  It means stuff like walking (to work or similar), exploring nature, gardening, youtube dance routines- you can even do that in your undies!

3) Keep learning. "Learning keeps us interested and engaged in life.  It also gives us a sense of accomplishment, which improves our confidence." It suggests to not feel pressure to learn, but, to maybe explore something that interests you. Trust me this ain't a 'do like I say', but, and example for me - I've got a buddy that posts pics and interesting quick stories about former Major League Baseball players.  I love this - and I often "Wiki" that player to learn more.  No, I ain't getting my MA in doing so, and no, not many people would give a hill of beans (<- remind me, gotta look that one up someday!).. but, it interests me, and quite honestly, it makes me feel good to learn new diddies, maybe share with pals later.

4) Give. "Key mistake: Giving out of obligation.".. "Giving because we think it's the right thing to do and then sitting around waiing for others to appreciate our generosity or pay us back in kind leads to one thing - bitterness."  They say it should be on impulse.  Give 'just because' and we immediately get return. We feel connected to others and we sense our own value.  We all know folks who give so easily and so often - and if you're like me, you're admirable and think the world of them.  So, I'm sure they can sense that, and it's gotta be a feel good. I reckon we can ape 'em.

5) Be mindful,  "Mindfulness simply means being present to what is happening right here and now. It means dimming down all your judgments on the past and worries about the future and seeing what is right in front of you."  OK, thanks.  Right infronta me I see a cheapy chrome notebook, and behind it is a nifty laptop. (I spilled coffee, OK damnit, beer, on the laptop.. I was devastated, I paid Fitty bucks for that thing on Craigslist.. so, I ordered a forty dolla chromebook. It came, sticky note on it said "works fine, but no sound." HA.  So, I use the laptop with an onscreen keyboard cause my old keyboard got ruined by Miller Lite.. and also the laptop has a bigger screen.  So, I blog with the chrome thingy, watch video, stupid (fun) Facebook vids, with the old laptop.  You get the drift though hopefully of being focused on today.

Thanks.  Thanks UK dudes (and dudettes). On you go back to your settees now.  Cherio.

I'd better shower, get ready for taking my car to the auto fixit guy.  First though, I'm gonna go get the paper in my undies.  If you hear sirens, rescue me.  816-867-5309.

Thanks. Bad moods happen,  Fart, maybe they'll get the smell and go away.  Or, maybe we can try the above.  Sock it to me.

Love, Victurd

No comprende'....

We all think differently, and I'm no different, which, would be I'm different if you think about it.  (And I know I am, in perhaps a weird way, but humor me please..)

Never understood running the bases.  Insteada left turns, shouldn't they be right turns, as in "3 to go, 2 to go, 1 to go, HOME!"

In a court of law, we use lie detectors for theft, rape, drug busts, etc, but nope, not in a Presidential debate, in spitea the fact the winner controls "that one button."

Why do clocks run 'clockwise' and who decided that was the wise way in the first place?  Why didn't Dolly Parton (Working 9 to 5) have to take time off for lunch?

Tickles me the person who chants to Sam Walton "Hell no I won't go" thru the automated checkout, then hops in an SUV that is manufactured by 57% robotics, then, spills his milk at dinner and cries even though it was brought there by an automated titty milker at the dairy, then hollers "Alexa, please turn the heat up to 72." (Bet a dollar he owns a fish finder.)

I'd like to see.. when using GPS and you miss a turn, insteada that 'dah-de'dahnk' sound it makes to recalculate, wouldn't it be funner if it said "oh shit" instead? Or, "you idiot!"

Life is hard, no doubt.  Prior to the origin of the quote "Life's a bitch and then you die" the US had participated in 95 Wars, we'd done been thru smallpox, yellow fever, cholera, scarlet fever, typhoid Mary, H1N1 flu, diphtheria, polio, the list goes on, hell, Bessie had already even tipped over that lantern in Chicago.. .. AND WHAT'S CRAZY?  The quote is attributed to a 15 year old in 1982.. The Washington Post interviewed a high school gal about a gathering she/her schoolmates had regarding "The meaning of life" and that's when the pipsqueak (sorry, kinda) piped up.

Hell, he hadn't even flipped a burger, mowed a lawn, gradjugated to the real world, paid taxes, fed a baby at 3am, or scraped the ice off a windshield in 5 below weather.  I was disappointed to learn this statement didn't belong to someone like me, old, crotchety, wrinkly, a step or seven too slow, flatulence every third step.. you know...

I don't get, while watching football on a 55" screen, why the head ref walks over after a touchdown to peek into a 5 INCH screen to see if the ball carrier indeed have touchdown or not. No comprende'.

I think elopement oughta be illegal.. church weddings (or community center weddings, ain't gotta be a church) should be ok/legal BUT ONLY after each of 'em gives half their money (and debt) to the other, they've gone on a 7 hour canoe trip, witnessed a childbirth, driven across 4 states together, and, babysat an infant for two weeks.  Me thinks the divorce rate (along with the marriage rate) would drop tremendously.

I think everyone who gets into a Political argument on Facebook consisting of over 30 he said/she saids, it should be mandatory they (all) meet for breakfast in the morning, accompanied by their children.. their parents.. their boss..their little league coach..  their preacher... and their former elementary school Principal.

I think WalMart greeters should approach anyone approaching their age to tell them where the restrooms are.  I think restrooms everywhere with three or more stalls need one "Reserved for those 65 and older." Everyone deserves a pot to piss in, especially us old people.

Having served the dreaded life of 'an underling', I think underlings should participate (albeit anonymously) in managerial salary reviews.  HA! Take that! (Or, NOT take that! Ha!)

I think we should tax the hell outta the 1% because it makes the Republicans mad, thus, we could all meet for breakfast, make up, our taxes would be low, and we'd eventually have free healthcare to assist us with clogged arterial woes from eating all too often a full order of biscuits and gravy, sausage, hotcakes with real butter.

With all this automation, we need to expound the abilities of Alexa.  Like, take her with us in the car.  You know, like "Alexa, squirt windshield solution on that asshole tailgating me please."...and, "Alexa, please install bulletproof glass, then moon that guy in the Chevy that just cut me off (I won't look)."

I think cars should have magnetic force fields where it's impossible, when in the same lane, to travel closer than one car length per ten miles per hour. You know us good Democrats, we like that control!  Seeya at breakfast.

I think when a friend peeves us off, there should be a button like the 30 day snooze button on Facebook where God ensures we won't run into each other for at LEAST 30 days.

I loves me some Kansas City Royals, and I was sooo tickled Nicky Lopez became the first Royals shortstop to bat .300.  Their batting averages are published daily. I think the batting averages of Doctors, Surgeons, lawyers, painters, carpenters, bus drivers, Uber, Lyft, Taxi drivers, all, oughta be published too. "Alexa, I have a huge gash in my leg, take me to the ER.  No, not that hospital, that Doc only bats .462."

Things I hope I NEVER EVER hear:  my BMI.  The words "I do."  "That was judgmental." "Now in a few words, please tell us why you are calling Spectrum Support."  "You have the right to remain silent."  "Does your husband play golf too?" "Sir, behind me on the bulletin board is a list of all the documents you need to bring to license your car."  "Not tonight." "Life's a bitch and then you die" because it ain't.  It's fun, or should be.

I never want to run out of:  toilet paper.  Gas. A working furnace. Sound mind. The ability to ne'er be dependent upon another.  Relatives. Friends (even Republicans, KU fans).. Money.  Patience.  Humor. Smiles. Prudent blog ideas (sorry about this one). Undies with no holes.

Harmony in a world of difference..  or, Difference in a world struggling to be harmonious.  Seeya at breakfast.

Love, Victurd

John Jordan O'Neil

Where to start, wow..  Well first, he's better known by the name Buck.  There was an owner of a team he played for named Buck O'Neal (with an 'A' insteada an 'I') and he started calling him Buck.

One of his best friends and fellow teammates was Satchel Paige.  Paige, by proxy, had another name for Buck... "Nancy"..   On one road trip, Satchel was entertaining a lady named Nancy, but too, he had his fiance, Lahoma, also with him on the trip. Later in the evening, Lahoma was awoken by Satchel knocking on a different hotel door, shouting "Nancy, Nancy"... Lahoma opened the door and at the very same instant, Buck opened his too.  Sorting out the dilemma, Buck said "Did you want something Satchel?"  "Yes, Nancy," Satchel said, "What time is the game tomorrow?"

Buck was born in Carrabelle, Florida in 1911.  He attended school through 8th grade, but there were no high schools to attend (wasn't allowed in white high school... there were four black high schools in the entire state, none close.) So... he worked the celery fields with his dad.  One particularly hot day he would say "Damn, there's got to be something better than this."  And the answer was baseball, as in, a life time of it. He'd tell that story and let kids know it was probably the first time he'd ever cussed.

He barnstormed on teams all about Florida, eventually moved in with relatives in Jacksonville where he attended Edward Waters College, completed high school and two years of college. Thanks to eyeballs on him playing in those barnstorming games, he was signed by the Memphis Red Sox in the newly formed Negro American League. The next year his contract was sold to the Kansas City Monarchs and thankfully we (KC) were afforded the vast majority of his life in our fine city.

In an interview for Sports Illustrated, Buck recounted those early Monarch years:  "We were like the New York Yankees. We had that winning tradition, and we were proud. We had a strict dress code—coat and tie, no baseball jackets. We stayed in the best hotels in the world. They just happened to be owned by black people. We ate in the best restaurants in the world. They just happened to be run by blacks. And when we were in Kansas City, well, 18th and Vine was the center of the universe. We'd come to breakfast at Street's Hotel, and there might be Count Basie or Joe Louis or Billie Holiday or Lionel Hampton."

Buck was a fine player in his own right... He would lead the league in hitting twice, and posted averages over 300 four times.  World War II interrupted Buck's playing days, as it did with so many other NAL MLB players, and he served in a Naval construction battalion in New Jersey.  He returned in 1946, was named manager (and continued to play as well) in 1948.  The Monarchs were sold in 1955, Buck resigned and became a scout for the Chicago Cubs.  You might have heard of the player he signed with the Cubs, Lou Brock.

If you've ever heard Buck, or read about Buck, the word POSITIVE looms large.  He was that in life, and was that as a player and a manager. In fact, for a couple of years he managed a guy on the Monarchs, Ernie Banks.  Buck was concerned because Ernie was shy, didn't say much and always sat at the back of the team bus.  One day Buck walked back there and said "Son, you've got to love this game to play it."

Ernie would become one of the most joyous players in the Major Leagues with the Cubs, and of course is famous for his "Let's play two" attitude - "I learned that from Buck."  Buck was promoted in 1962 to fulltime coach of the Cubs, the first ever African American Major League Coach.

Once Buck would say "Sometimes I think God kept me on this earth so long so I could bear witness to the Negro Leagues."  Stories, he'd tell the stories. "Oscar Charleston was as good as Ty Cobb. Hilton Smith was as good as Bob Feller. Cool Papa Bell was SO FAST he once hit a ball through the pitcher's legs and it hit him as he slid into second base!"

Easter Sunday, 1943,  Memphis Tennessee.  First time up, Buck doubled. Second time up, singled.  Third time up, home run over the right field fence.  Fourth time up he hit a ball that caromed off the wall, probably could have had an inside the park home run but he stopped at third.  This turned out to be the most favorite day in his life, but not because of baseball.  Later that same evening, a friend called him down to meet some schoolteachers who were staying at the same hotel. He went down, saw a pretty woman, walked up to her, said "My name is Buck O'Neil, what's yours?"...  "Ora" she would reply.  The very start of a relationship that would also be a 51 year marriage.  "That was my best day," he said, "I would hit for the cycle and I met Ora."

Buck would become a scout for the Royals in 1988, was named Midwest Scout of the Year in 1998, mind you, he's 87 years old by then.  Buck was revered in his lifetime, and particularly in Kansas City. Today, there is the Buck O'Neil Legacy seat at Kaufman Stadium and every game there is an honoree selected to sit there because they exemplify the spirit and generosity of Buck.

Shortly before Buck's passing, a special election was held for the Baseball Hall of Fame.  He would fall one or two votes shy of induction. "Shed no tears for Buck, that ain't gonna hurt me that much."  In fact he proudly went to the ceremony which included the induction of quite a few Negro League players.. Buck HOSTED the induction!

Ken Burns tribute documentary "Baseball" is where the world learned to love Buck. He became a celebrity, went on talk shows, traveled the country and wrote a biography "I Was Right On Time."

Much of the above was taken from an obituary written by Joe Posnanski, a former writer for the Kansas City Star.

To end..  Here's 16 life lessons from Buck himself:

▪ Hug everybody you can, especially the pretty women. 

▪ Drain the bitterness out of your heart. My daddy was a good man. He paid his taxes. He lived a good life. But he couldn’t vote. He was not bitter, though. … 

▪ Sing a little every day.

▪ Do yourself a favor: Go down to 18th and Vine just to see a bit of Kansas City history. It was exciting. Yeah. There were musicians and baseball players and beautiful women and men dressed up like you wouldn’t believe. Every restaurant, hotel and bar had a band playing sweet music. Yeah. People ask me what it was like, I tell them this: A man would come to Kansas City and say “I have a cousin here, but I don’t know where he is.” I would say “Well, you just stand right here on the corner of 18th and Vine, and before this day is over, he will show up.” Yeah. That was 18th and Vine. 

▪ Don’t smoke any of those leaves or put anything up your nose. 

▪ Tell people you love them. 

▪ Listen to old people tell stories. They might teach you something.

▪ Do a little showboating every now and again in your life. Remember, it was the so-so ballplayers that came up with the word “Showboating.” They were jealous. If you have something to show, go ahead and showboat a little bit.

▪ Don’t be jealous of any other city. Kansas City is the greatest city on earth. 

▪ Be there for old friends. 

▪ Always be on time. There’s no use in being late. 

▪ Don’t let anger boil up inside you. There’s too much anger out there already. Yeah. Too much anger. 

▪ Root for the Royals. They’re a good young team. They make you feel alive because they play so hard. That’s what baseball is all about.

Yesterday, John Jordan "Buck" O'Neil was elected to the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame. Way, way too late, but Buck would tell you he was right on time.

Love, Victurd

We'll be, fine and dandy........

This is dedicated to the one I love...  No, that ain't it...  If ya ain't never been to Liberty, MO... or, ifya only had a few heartbeats whilst here..  you might wanna turn left.  This is dedicated to the town I love...

Hey, maybe I'll dye my hair
Maybe I'll move somewhere
Maybe I'll get a car
Maybe I'll drive so far they'll all lose track
Me, I'll bounce right back

Post on Facebook this morning showing the 5pm traffic in Liberty (The Western portion.. I call it the KC portion)..   The guy who posted it, he like me, same age as me, SAME LOVE for Liberty as me..).. anyways, Yessir, it's different - except now it's what we know.  

Maybe I'll sleep real late
Maybe I'll lose some weight
Maybe I'll clear my junk
Maybe I'll just get drunk on apple wine
Me, I'll be just

One Liberty'ite (That's someone who lives here, or usedta live here...you can take your body outta Liberty, but ya can't never take Liberty outta your body!)..  "It's sickening! Our old town is a Metropolis now!"  Well, I dunno. I think I'll takes me a walk around The Square.  I'm gonna walk a few steps West from Whiteside Jewelers and take a picture of Franklin Street headed up to the old High School. MAN it's perty!

Fine and dandy

Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas

I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow bring me way down

"I came home from the service in such and such year, took one look around and I was outta there" or something close to that.  Now this consternates me.. it consternates me so, I think I'll take me a drive out LaFrenz Road... see them there cows?  I bet they's somehow related to ole Bessie that was in that pasture years ago!...let's stroll down Raines Road..  up to Nebo Hill...  WOOOOO HOOOOOO  I can see the skyline of KC from here!  Hey, I thought they said it was all concrete tween here and there? . I see trees of green, red roses too, I see them bloom, for me and you, and I think to myself.. what a wonderful (town) world. VICTOR, ya ain't sposteda combine TWO songs in one blog. Aint ya never heard that?  Well, I guess I been in the right place, but it musta been the wrong time.. (I GIVE UP ON YOU VICTOR!)

I'll be fine and dandy
Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow bring me way down

"That's exactly why I don't live there anymore... too many damn people."  Didya hear that Bessie's great-great-granddaughter?  Let 'em mooo-ve, right?  That's one less person, we're closer to our goal of getting that Population sign back to 8,908 like it was for so long, right!  I jest, but notta lot.

Hey, maybe I'll learn to sew
Maybe I'll just lie low
Maybe I'll hit the bars
Maybe I'll count the stars until dawn
Me, I will go on

Bars?  Ya mean like the Corner Bar?  Yep, it's still here.  "Take you back.. do do do do.. take you back.."  VICTOR.. that's THREE, count 'em, THREE DAMN SONGS in this blog.. NO!..  My hearing just gets worse and worse over the years.. Huh?  What'd he say?  Point is, ya walk in the Corner Bar, and..(close your ears).. do do do do, take you back.. right back to 1960-something. The characters are maybe different, then again, maybe not.  They shuffle in, shuffle out.. and oh yeah, from time to time play a game of shuffleboard.  Or pool. Ya reckon that's the same pool table from back in the day?  WOW. seen a lotta stuff on that pool table. Some ya can't print here!

Maybe I'll settle down
Maybe I'll just leave town
Maybe I'll have some fun
Maybe I'll meet someone and make him mine
Me, I'll be just

"I hardly even recognize Liberty anymore."  Hey, look, there's the Franklin Ballfield!..I can just "see" Archie on his John Deere...  China up at the intersection.  Back thataway is where Stanley Savage (forgot his gym shoes that day) won the 600 yard dash IN HIS STOCKING FEET!  He did!  He really did.  Over there was the merrygo round, it's gone, but there's that dodgeball circle where we all got in trouble for dancing "The Twist" at recess.. Come on baby, let's do the twist..come on baby,  let's do the twist, take me by the little hand it goes like this."  FOUR SONGS, one blog.. Victor, that's as annoying as that damn traffic in Liberty.

Fine and dandy
Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow bring me way down

"No, no, no! That's not progress!"  Imgonna.. Imgonna go sit in the bleachers at the City Park.  Wooo wee lotta ballgames played there.  Remember when the fireworks were here on the 4th?  All the horses and all the dogs? OK, the dog poop is gone, don't smell no more.

I'll be fine and dandy
Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow bring me way down

'I don't recognize the place, sorry, I ain't never coming back."  Hey, after I go getme a filter for my furnace at Freverts, I'm gonna takes me a walk.  I'll stroll past the Second Baptist Church.. then the Christian Church.. HeY!  there's onea them old posts in the ground they useta tie horses to!  Let's see if I still got the touch.  YEP!  Ya see, you take that ring on top, flip it, and try to flip it only one time so it comes back to where it started.  I think I was 7 the first time I was able to do that.  "Don't go changin, to try and please me, you never let me down before... I couldn't love you any better...I love you just the way you are."  I've lost track of the number of songs Victor, I'm moving to Texas, or Colorado, or California, mebbe some place back East. Don't let the door.. I mean, hey, have fun!

I'll be fine and dandy
Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow bring me way down

Jewell Hall.  I remember as a kid how dadgum big that hill useta look.  Ya know?  It still does.  I remember them college kids.. we usedta call 'em 'squirrels'... well, we thought theys rich, but nope, come Winter time, big snow, they didn't have no sleds.. they used trays from the cafeteria to motivate down the hill!  We'd go ten times faster on our sleds.. ten times further...Heck, Johnny once made it all the way to Lightburne...

'Cause I'll be fine
I'll be fine
Oh, I'll be fine

There's Miller Street!  Hey, that's where I grew up, right across the street from the college.  Remember them dadgum Chiefs?  Their curfew was 10pm, hadta be back in the dorms.  They'd come up our 25mph street sometimes at 60mph in their fancified cars five minutes before curfew. Dangerous.  WHEW I'm glad that traffic is gone!

Oops.

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof (remember camping in the backyard?_
(Because I'm happy)
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth (Remember paddle in the Principal's office at Franklin?)
(Because I'm happy)
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you (Free Pepsi and Hot Dogs World Series time at Woodys!)
(Because I'm happy)
Clap along if you feel like that's what you wanna do

Yes, it's changed.  No, it ain't the same.  To each his her own, and I don't blame ya if the traffic, people bugya.  Truly I don't.   Heck, I still get mad at all the newbies that come to a complete stop at every corner of the dadgum Square.  It's enough to make me wanna... make me wanna... go have a... Victor, we've already talked about the Corner Bar.  Oh yeah.

I'll be fine and dandy.. even with all the nuances and hiccups of our town now.

Mose, another Miller Lite please.  Thanks.  Hiccup.

Love, Victurd