Remind me honey......

To me, life is an algebraic equation with no perfect answer.

Trying to figure why some people prefer to hurt is a fruitless attempt that only overflows one's bucket of woe.

Trying to figure out why people care, love, help, encourage, inquire of one's well being, compliment, that, baby, is the honey of the hive of life.

We (I know I do sometimes) spend sooooooo much time swimming in the bucket of woe when IT DOESN'T MATTER - or, we swim in there so often we too emit the stench of woe.

Honey, not money, not status, not attire, yeah baby.  If money should come, status maybe too, ability to dress nicely, have that gorgeous homestead folks dream of , get a formal education, build a successful company - it still all goes back to bucket of woe or hive of honey.  Was that money, status, homestead, education, business achieved by stepping on the backs, toes of others - or, by lifting folks up - and along the way it also lifted you up.

I awaken, I glance at life. I allow myself to be immersed in the dander of hatred about what is said of the color or a man, his religion, where he lives - comes from, what language he speaks, his beliefs, seeing/hearing folks who have for years cast stones, simply continuing target practice.  Practice makes putrid, so to speak.  Bucket of woe, not hive of honey.

Sometimes the seatbelts of restraint slip and I holler (or wanna holler) "NO!", "STOP", "DON'T".. . For a baby respite, I feel better, like I contributed, helped - truth, all I did is friggin' tread water in the bucket of woe.

Often, the wise don't speak. It's hard to learn something when one's mouth is open - and I fall in this trap often.  

Things.  Things bug me.  Arrogance.  Stepping on mankind.  Denouncing those who don't follow the suit of 'my way.' Rising up, rising up, hollering "NO... STOP... DON'T.. and then taking a breath... it's found the man will still be arrogant.  He/she will still step on man, his toes.  Will still denounce.  Jumped back in that bucket did i.  Stop Victor.

I get bitter - then get bitter at myself as it's only allowed me to stir that bucket of woe.

Giving in to NO... STOP... DON'T will only allow one to be labeled as 'butt hurt'.  

Live and learn.  Tell the ones who never ever hollered NO.... DON'T. . STOP.. thank you.  Your inactions are admirable and I am thankful for the example you set.  I can tell, how comfortably you sit and enjoy life, your butt don't hurt.

Forgive me honey, sometimes woe is me.  I'm trying though.

Love, Victurd

Here I sit, brokenhearted.....

Just kidding, really.

Wish in one hand...  well, you know the rest.  What I didn't know is that that (can you use that two times in a row?) came from a Steven King book.  That that I didn't know.

Watched pot never boils.

And, the modicum of getting outta Dodge and this dadgum pandemic "Hurry up and wait."

I want... .I want...  A dog.. A camper van.. A house.. A yard for said dog.  A cat.  Oh yeah, a girlfriend would be nice.  Me, 30 pounds ago.

Whatshispipe:  'Blow me down'. 'I yam what I yam'.. 'That's all I can stands, cause I can't stands no more!'  'I yam what I yam and that's all I yam.'  'If we can't be frens we'll be enemies'.  'Shiver me timbers.'   'Oh my gorshki!'. 'I can't bes nos Doctor 'cause I'm losing my patience!'

Waiting waiting, waiting on the Bluejays.  I remember from YEARS ago, playing basketball, high school.. we'd be down in the locker room before the game, in all likelihood, another losing game.. and the cheerleaders would start that loud chant  'WAITING, WAITING, WAITING ON THE BLUEJAYS!"..  There was something about it.. it seems like it made one jump a full foot higher... run, several seconds faster.. of course, maybe it's because we were 16, I dunno.  ANYWAYS, this pandemic suck - basketball kids, cheerleaders, fans can't even enjoy something like that!

"To lose patience is to lose the battle." Mahatma Gandhi.  NO MAHATMA! I want what I want and I want it now!  Got that that?

I admittedly don't have patience. Awhile back.  Wanted kayak.  Every trip to Dicks, Academy, Bass Pro I eyeballed them suckers like a Red Ryder Carbine Action 200. Should I buy one for two people or a single?  Girlfriend at the time said "Have you ever been on a kayak?" "No." "Well maybe you should rent one before you buy one?"  Scoff.. besides the point.  I want one. I want what I want and I want it now.  Got that that?..So, a year or so later we were in Orlando.. Free kayak rental at hotel. Did. Wasn't all that fun. Please don't tell her.

"The Shot." I've been on everywhich site there is to get this dadgum vaccine. I know from all the past packs of Exeter Light Shorts I would be in trouble if I got Covid.  County website.  State website.  WalGreens, WalMart, eyeballing mass vaccine thingys 120 miles North.. "do I dare go get one, then, when it comes time for the second one there will be 20 inches of snow?"  Continued, figured time for a new paragraph.  Normally I keep going, don't have the patience, but now I will.

So.........like many, FINALLY got scheduled thru County for last Tuesday.  14 below zero happened, Governor called vaccines that day off.  Patience Victor.  Rescheduled for last Friday.  Out of product, rescheduled, we'll let you know when.  Damnit darnit. Meantime, hours spent back and forth Walgreen website, WallyWorld website, no luck. Friend messaged, "try Hy-Vee."  THANKS!  Continued.  Got that that?

FIRST TIME on Hy-Vee website, I GOT AN APPOINTMENT!  Was for this past Tuesday at 3:15pm.  Even got an appointment with them for 2nd shot, St. Patty's Day. Yum. Rolling now.  Except.  Except. "If Hy-Vee doesn't have your insurance card, please download it now." Crap, ok. Got phone, got billfold, took nifty pic of front/back of Medicare card.. saved it to phone.  Went back to Hy-Vee website, except it wasn't there.  Crapola.  I'd accidentally closed it.  By this time, everyone in Liberty, Kearney, Excelsior, Vibbard, Wood Heights, Lawson, Mosby, Gladstone, NKC, you get the idea, everyone and their brother got wind of Hy-Vee openings.  Continued.

I never did get in, BUT, just in case, I got someone to cover for me at work.  Went to Hy-Vee at my appointed time.  Took her ten minutes to peek thru computer to finally say "You ain't in here." I wanted to play crusty, cantankerous old guy "I wana see your supervisor NOW", just didn't have it in me. "Ok, thanks." Crap. Double crap. Continued.

So.......the County one that was cancelled then cancelled, gotta phone call "Rescheduled for Thursday (today.) You will get an "OR Code" in your email, make sure and bring that with you." This worried me, as original email from the first time came into my junk email. Had it been a Clay County email from Luann Ridgeway or Gene Owen, YES, I would have wanted it in my junk email, but this one I wanted. So, I never got my "OR Code."  Called buddy. Did you get your new "OR Code?"  Yes, two days ago.  Crap. Double crap.  Continued.

So..... called the 1-800-something-VAX # they provided.  Lady looked me up. "You're in here."  Yeah but, yeah but, I ain't gots no email with OR Code thing? Realizing I was assuredly a crusty, cantankerous, old guy, she calmed with "You're in the system Sir, they'll find you, you'll be fine even if you don't have it." I wondered aloud if that was like a 'vow', cause I've heard them before...twice.. it no worky. That and that, got that that?

I'll probably never get a kayak. VICTOR!.. I'll probably never get my stimulus check. VICTOR, you did get that that but remember you cried and cried to us until you did?  kinda.

Life, and blogs, take interesting turns. To the outhouse by Willie Makeit. He ain't gots no patience.  Gimme a can o' spinach.  I'm going to Cerner (the shot giving site) today anyways, I'll give it a shot.

Blogs and turns. I blabbed yesterday about two dreams. This blog was intended to relate that I slept like a baby all night, no damn dreams.  Then, got up way too early, looked for OR Code in inbox (and junk email) NADA. Crap. Took a nap.  Surely this time I'll have a dream to write about.  Alarm went off, nope. Wish in one hand, alarm in other.

Here I sit, brokenhearted, came to dream and only farted.

Continued, in all probability.  Got that that?

Have patience, never give up on your hopes and dreams, hehe.

Love, Victurd.

(I do hereby promise, the day I get a dog.. or a cat.. or a girlfriend.. I will stop blogging so you don't have to suffer thru this crap.  Got that that? Thanks, sorry.)

Ripley's... no rhyme, eurythmics... Sweet Dreams... (Volume #1)

I have no idea if this will ever be posted.  #1, why would anyone want to know what I dream about?  #2, from the sounds of my first couple dreams, pretty strange.  The strange part doesn't scare me though.

I'm presently on like 6 different kinds of medicine, so, that may contribute to, accelerate my personal weirdness, or, my dream's weirdness - but then, I've always had weird dreams.  I always wanted to write down what I dream about - always forget, so thought, what the hey, I'll try.  If after reading any of these damn blogs it hasn't already been explained "I'm weird", well fer sure now you'll know.

I've had dreams where I wakeup breathlessly scared, mostly worried about something trivial, but, sometimes "Boom" huge... whatever that transition is between asleep, REM's and "shit I need coffee" and, numerous times I've nearly tinkled in my undies..or.. pinched myself to see if this is real.. or, exhaled big time to realize it's just that, a dream. I've immersed in huge worry dreams about diddies, projects at work I hadn't done, was very behind on, "in trouble", then sleep/REM/shit realize "You dumb ass, you're retired."  Oh yeah.

Go fish, first recorded dream. I was at home.  No idea where home was, but I was there. I was coupled.  No idea who with, but I was. 'She' came home and told me "I was driving home by the old Library, going up the street and there was this humongous fish, an OCEAN fish, lying, flipping, flopping in the road.  Crazy."   Yes, I thought she was.  So, I was outta smokes, or, beer, or, wanted a burger, don't remember - and I drove to get that/those. On my way home, I gotta drive by the Old Library to get home anyways, and I seez me this large damn Ocean fish, still flipping, flopping in the middle of the road.

He/she (how do you tell?) was the length of a baseball bat, fatter, and gorgeous.  Teal, aqua, deep blue, golden/yellow tones... and had these octopus feeler suction things on it's bottom, but not 'arms', just suction cup like things.  (No, I've never done LSD, nor would I.)

So, I pullover, dial 911, explain this really ain't an emergency, but I didn't know the non-emergency number. That's all I remember about the call.  Soon, lady cop shows up. She too was amazed by flipping, flopping Ocean fish, but like the Farmer's Insurance guy on TV commercial, she acted like "Seen it before." How can I help you?  I quarried.  "Grab me that red male body bag there." I moved without thinking, but then I thought "How come red?" Then again, blue is my favorite color, so, all good.

I helped her scoop it up into the bag.  I'd wondered if regular tap water would kill it, or, whereinthehell she'd get saltwater.  Knowing the ocean was only 8 miles North of Liberty, MO, I asked her if I could ride with her. (Remember, it's a dream, ocean 8 miles North of Liberty is believable in a dream.).  "No that's ok, but thanks." Then I thought maybe she didn't want me to ride with her because I'd be getting the objective of getting her outta town while my buddy robbed the bank, so I understood.

Twas just then I transitioned "sleep, REM, shit I need coffee."  Somewhere in the transition semi coherence re minded me Liberty was no where close to the Ocean and I'd hoped that she'd taken the little gal (feller?) to that Salt Water exhibit at Crown Center.  By this time I was at full "shit I need coffee" mode, awake. "Hey, I gotta write that down!  My first recorded dream!"..  so, that's my start.  If you are still here, don't swat me, but you are ONE BORED HUMAN BEING.

Dream #2, stay tuned, ain't had it yet.

A day went by. OK, just did have dream #2. In my dreams, I've been attending these games, kid games.  No idea why, no idea who I know, I just have been. Kinda fun to watch. Twice now, I ended up sitting by this gorgeous young mom, no hubby in sight.  The first time, she flirted.  That's exactly when I realized I was dreaming.  It was quick, so I didn't put pen to computer.

Then, it happened again. Sitting next to her. Twas uncomfortable in that she was really young and I am really old, but that didn't seem to matter to her. Idle chit chat happened.  Then, she leaned completely across me, looked up over her left shoulder and asked me if I'd split some nachos with her. It was truly creepy old man stuff because her perfume smelled really wonderful, her eyes mesmerized, her raven black hair had that wonderful whatever the wonderful going shampoo product is.  Her right boob was staring at me. Honest, I didn't stare first, it just popped out as if to say "hi". I trembled. Said "yes", then thought "Crap, do I have money."  Whoever I came with was seated twenty chairs over, but at that very moment I didn't care about them, ha!..  I walked over, got my billfold, came back... and that's when I transitioned sleep, REM, shit I need coffee.

I gotta admit I then felt perverted, but i also thought about Hugh Hefner... and what with George Clooney just having a child at 60, I hurriedly tried to go back to sleep to see her again.  I knew it would be fruitless.  I knew if I ever did try to kiss her, it'd be like sitting at this damn computer and up would pop "Intimacy will start after ad." Hehe.  Full awake.

I really chastised myself for being creepy, but then, I remembered taking this online test where you enter your medical history, your eating, drinking, exercise, (I was honest on everything) family medical history and it then projected at what age you'd die.  Donald Trump is probably envious, I've got four more years, so, I didn't feel so bad about being creepy.

If you never come back to my blog, I'll certainly understand, but I promised myself no pussyfooting, tell the dreams just as they are.  I did.

Love, Rip Van Victurd.

Tastes great...... Less filling...

It has been said, the only time you can change a man is when he's a baby.  Eh, mebbe so.

From the days of black and white TV, dad reconbuberating tubes behind the TV whilst a mirror placed on a chair in front let him know "good tube", "bad tube."  From when it took two football players to carry the damn TV in when one moved. To the flimsy ass (sorry, kinda) flatscreens of today where the pics are wonderful and when the picture goes bad you simply haul it out to the curb and run to BestBuy, WalMart, Target to by another big'n that's now under $10 an inch.

So.. over time, like my meat and potato diet, I've basically been a sport's addict, so, Nielsen has regularly avoided me in their ratings over the years.

Gimme USC versus UCLA...  Michigan versus Michigan State... of course KU/MU...  Alabama/Auburn... Cardinals/Cubbies... Yankees/Red Sox... Army/Navy... Dallas/Detroit and a turkey leg.. and of course the must see, Chiefs and Royals.

There are a bevy of people (I looked up bevy to see how big it is and results are mixed, from ten to hella lot).. a LOT of people who would be bored to tears on my sofa watching sporting events. Come to think of it, maybe that's where all them damn women went.

TODAY.  Who are you?  Are you the same?  Have your taste buds (at least as far as TV) changed?  Will you go to the urn watching every episode of Days of Our Lives? Do you program your remote to watch the same damn thing, night in night out, daily, weekly?  If so, you must be good with that - and, of course to each his/her own.

I've changed.  Yes, I won't miss a Mahomes/Reid, Salvy/Merrifield, MU Tiger kinda thing,,,, but if I do find myself tuned to something like  Kentucky/Tennessee, I get bored after the first shot taken.  Change.

Change.  I know you older women understand change. DON'T SWAT ME!  

No, I ain't of CSI, The Bachelor, The Voice ilk. (every onceinawhile maybe), etc..  When partnered, which seems to depend on who's in office in DC, I do enjoy a good ole binge on Netflix.

Quick story, our secret, PLEASE.  Last 'partnered', partner had a nifty screened in porch.  Wanting to enjoy storms, summer breeze, friends, yada, AND watch a show, I bought onea them big ole under $10 an inch TVs for the porch. I was a Netflix virgin until then - but once TV/porch happened, hours upon hours of Breaking Bad, The Ranch, Shameless (I know it ain't Netflix).. anyways, message is, thanks to the Amazon Fire Stick, we got Netflix on the porch too.

Then Breaking Up happened. So, paid my young studly great nephews and son, to help me totes all my junk to an apartment.  Got cable, don't remember which, I think it was AT&T, to watch until they raised rates too damn high to switch to Time Warner Spectrum Cougar Mellencamp a year later.

One day (this is our secret), for grins I clicked Netflix.  Lo and behold up popped 'her' name, I clicked it, and for a few years until my usedta be on the screened in porch TV conked I coat tailed her Netflix, forgive me Father for I did.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, change. I don't hate sports, but I've replaced them with a pretty good mix of Discovery Channel, National Geographic and History Channel. Alaska, Homestead Rescue, Building Off the Grid.. but mainly:

Alaska. On Facebook they have those lists with a hunnerd and twelve places and you're supposed to put a heart by where you've been - I've never been to Alaska and there's at least a hunnerd and eleven places I'd rather go first.  I don't like to hunt.  I don't like to fish. I like automatic thermostat, 4 lane highways. seeing people daily, our Old Towne Square, even Wally World.  If the temperature gets below ten, I'm under two down comforters. So. Why Alaska?

I dunno.  It's thrilling (to me) to watch. Yes, there are the two families highlighted on Discovery (maybe too mainstream now), but I too have just 'found' Life Below Zero on National Geographic. The freezer is empty, winter is coming, BETTER GET WITH IT.  Survival depends on it. "Geez, that lady just walked outside her cabin and she doesn't have a rifle and ya just know there's gotta be a Grizzly within shouting distance?"

Snowmobiles on roads where you can't tell whereinthehell the road is.  Dogsled teams where speed, turning and woah are all done verbally, no reigns. (My beloved sister inlaw would be repulsed by dog teams, but, they actually seem happy and enjoy, well fed, very well taken care of.) Crossing frozen rivers where "If by chance the ice gives in, we're done, history, dead."..   "Gotta getta Caribou or else".  I am new into watching this show and I'm not real sure, other than 'hunting, fishing and gathering' how these folks make real money to buy real needs like gasoline, tools, machine replacement parts, etc.

One lady, 55, lives in basically a humongous tent. She's one swipe away from being a Grizzly meal.  I do not know how she does it. Better yet, why she does it. "Wouldn't live anywhere else" - and they all seem to echo that.

50 below zero. 40" of snow. Must have gun to walk outside. Some, no running water.  Most, no real toilet.  It ain't me babe, but it's sure fun, exciting to watch the show.

I would love to hear of your TV habits - to see if they've indeed changed as you have gotten older, maybe changed a bit yourself.  Sorry the above it mainly the view from my shoes and about my shoes, but after 68 years, I find myself still trying to get to know me, and wondering if anyone else was in same boat, or sled, or snowmobile. 

Dominique, nique, nique S'en allait tout simplement, Routier, pauvre et chantant, En touse chemins, en tous lieux, Il ne parle que du Bon Dief. Sorry, kinda.  Felt it.

Have a happy day. Getting my dogs and sled ready, running for a burger at McCaribou.

Love, Victurd

Read between the shit.

Honest, I'm harmless - but I know too that intro will run off a certain percentage of folks, and that's ok, they be the ones missing out on fun!

Through this quarantine, Facebook has basically been my 'mate.' (Don't worry, soon, I promise I'm getting a cat.)  Life every morning, I head for the john.  If I've been very ambitious the night before, all I gotta do is hit the switch on the coffee.  If I ain't been ambitious, then it depends on how bad I gotta pee if I make coffee pre or post tinkling. I love sharing my life with you!

Anyways, this morning as I was reading, I came to "NOOOOOOOOO, I don't wanna read, hear, see that crap!"... Poof, she be on snooze for 30 days!  Then some good stuff..  Then, music, I need music. So, I plays me some music whilst I read. I pick one song, then youtube reads my mind and plays similar songs after my song is done.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, upset.  Ugly.  I hates reading me some ugly on Facebook.  Too bad there ain't a Fabreeze button up there next to the bell and message button.  Point is, I want HAPPY.  What was infronta me wasn't happy. So.............  I went thru my friends list, picked a few stellar folks that are ALWAYS happy, and below I report a synopsis of their happy postings:

Family.  Friends.  Gatherings, smiling.  A sporting team that all, in general, support. Fun jokes that don't take pot shots, or, if they do, probably deserved the she pot-shotee will laugh too.

Music.  Much.  Pets.  Pictures of pets.  Videos of pets. Birthday greetings that are creative.  Sure, Happy Birthday is good, but...but... but.. howabout... howabout..  a  pic with a guy standing on an 'X', six feet away from a urinal and the card is entitled 
"aim to have a good birthday."  Much funner, happier.

A picture of a lady and her hound. She was brushing him and he burped. That's fun. A cartoonish post stating "Make Facebook Fun Again!"  YES!   And it had diddies like "no politics...be nice.. .stop namecalling..  the golden rule works..  post only helpful things..  share pics of your kids and family."  Uh huh, that.  Thanks.  An MLK quote.  All MLK quotes rock.  A post about "you never know" the impact you may have on one... never know how much someone needed that hug.. Basically, don't wait for someone to be kind first.  Yep, that's happy.

A reminder chocolate is vital for our survival.  Dinosaurs didn't have chocolate and look what happened to them.  (Serious stuff).. 

A positive quote.  Pics of family.  Especially pics of 'little family' ones.  Grey hair old ladies in robes dancing.  A fundraiser for a hound rescue effort.  Vivid colors.  A YouTube video of a song when we were young punks. Grandkid pics, working on a project.  A nifty Christmas story about a pretty tough time, winter that turned out well and made the memory, the holiday, all the more remarkable and enjoyable.

Friends, unprompted, complimenting friends.  Happy this-holiday, that-holiday, every-holiday, have-a-happy - posts.

Three youtube videos in a row with songs that associate winter with happy.  S'more bucks donated to a fundraiser for hounds. A Bernie snowman.  Aw come on, both sides can love on that! A hound pic. A picture of a squirrel drenched with snow, on hind legs.. stating "Winter sucks, it's going to take til July to thaw out my nuts!"  A pet video.  Two youtubes that make you want to say "screw sub-zero temps, let's dance!".

A long joke lovingly pigeon holed for a friend that we can all enjoy. Happy happy, smiling picture of an admired relative that's since gone..  A cartoon of a weather forecaster (close your ears) stating "It's been mostly shitty today and tonight will be even shittier. There's a 90% chance tomorrow will be shitty and the long range forecast is shitty, real shitty, and total shit. (This lady is fun.  Her 'shit's are what jelly is to peanut butter.)  Which reminds me.  During a Chief's game, you can always tell when Mahomes has been intercepted as her post is simply "shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."  (I once asked her if like "Shit Shit Shit" will show up on her memories from like 3 years ago, "Yes!"  I love her.

A post wishing everyone a Happy National Drink Wine Day.  A picture of this person's ADORABLE almost two-year old daughter.  Trust me, the eyeballs would meltya.  A saying "Kindness is like snow, it never fails to add beauty to what it covers."  A reminder it's only 130 days until summer.   A picture of said adorable almost two year old a couple minutes after tearing into a jar of Nutella. A picture standing next to a lifesize Mahomes bobblehead.

A one panel pic of toilet paper entitled "My TP has scallops! Does yours?" Pic of four (smiley) friends gathered about table, drink and meal, wishing for a quick return to same. A pic of a young man and his git-fiddle entitled "all growed up and playing the blues, SO proud of you!"  A pic of the wonder of God's handiwork with snow, ice on a window pane.  A video of some horses tromping around (for the very first time) in a foot of snow.  You'd haveta see it.  A Far Side cartoon of a chicken and an egg laying in bed.  The egg has his (her?) arms over his (her?) head, a very happy smile, cig hanging outta the mouth and the chicken saying "Well, I guess that settles that old argument."

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooo, to summerize those disgustingly happy folks.. They post pics of family.  Of friends.  They say good things to people.  They give money to pets.  They show pics of pets.  They tell jokes.  They like music.  They like to dance. They make fun of the weather, and friends, but done so lovingly.  Kid and grandkids loom large, and popular.

Shit is ok. Shit, to us old folks, is funny like fart is to a child.  Oh some will turn their head in disgust, but most of us, it's good.  Good shit so to speak. Holidays are popular.  Old folks are good.  Self deprication comes naturally to these happy people.

If only we could see in their medicine cabinets as to why they really are happy!

So................... thanks.  Thanks to them. I was reading.  I was bummed. I wasn't happy. I wanted to see things from happy people's shoes.  I feel better.  Much better. (Tune in tomorrow where we may learn why the chicken crossed the road!).. I love me some happy folks.

Good shit.

Love, Victurd, pun mebbe intended.

Will Robinson got a honey jar stuck on his nose....

 Time has us borrowing from Robot B9 and his "Danger, Will Robinson!"  It's become a catchphrase that needs to preempt "Hold my beer and watch this."

You don't tug on superman's cape. You don't spit into the wind.  You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger, and you don't mess around with Jim.

Jim (the singer/songwriter) Croce wrote this song about big Jim Walker,  a pool shootin' son of a gun, big and dumb as a man can come, stronger than a country hoss... well... Slim had lost big to Jim in a pool bet. A bit later camea lookin' for Jim. "My name is Willie McCoy but down home they call me Slim."  They tried warning Slim.. Big Jim come boppin' off the street - Slim cut him up and shot him twice.  Croce then changed the chorus to:

You don't tug on superman's cape. You don't spit into the wind.  You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger, and you don't mess around with SLIM.

I'm always amazed at how little attention I've played in life.  Reading up on Jim Croce, he'd just graduated from college, the first one in his family..his folks wanted him to get a '9 to 5' job.. instead, Jim sold spots for a radio station because music was his lifelong goal.  His area was a poor, poor nook in Philly, which included the pool hall, where there truly was a Big Jim Walker.

It was Croce's first hit.. later he had Time in a Bottle, and the biggy Bad, Bad Leroy Brown...  life is fleeting.  Croce was killed in a plane crash when he was only 30 years old.  Damnit Jim.

So I guess this is about advice.  

Call your parents.  

Your choices at the moment will be good ones. Trust yourself.

Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk. (Dalai Lama.)

There's a little truth behind every just kidding, a little curiosity behind every just wondering, a little knowledge behind I don't know, a little emotion behind every I don't care.

It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.

Be decisive.  Right or wrong, make a decision. The road of life is paved with flat squirrels.

If you don't go after what you want, you'll never have it.  If you don't ask, the answer will always be no.  If you don't step forward, you'll always be in the same place.

In honor of Super Bowl 55, and in discussing really good things in life "It's like a Snicker's bar in the freezer, right?  It's treasured."  Andy Reid

Impressive it is that Coach Reid, after all these years - still seeks advice, input (so yes, a boss asking for advice is advice in and of itself): Reid established a players leadership committee consisting of one member from each position group as a way for player to air their concerns. 

"Whenever we started that meeting, the first thing he would say is, 'All right, what gripes do you have?' Johnson said, "He doesn't want guys complaining in the locker room about this and that, like practices being too long or the food in the cafeteria not being good. So, he would say 'Tell me all the stuff like that and I'll fix it.' He doesn't want us to have any excuses for not getting it right on Sunday. He wants to eliminate all the distractions."

"You can't hit a home run if you don't swing for the fence.  You can't do anything special in life sitting on the fence."  Bruce Arians', Tampa Bay Coach.

I loves me some advice.  Well... first time advice. That repeated advice that's preceeded by "Like I said....."  Well... that gives me the heeeeeeeebeeeeeeejeeeeeeeebiiieeeeees.

Don't let it go to your head.  I REALLY love complimenting a lifelong pal on something and then following with that.  They smirk.  Smirks are good.

Don't break your arm patting yourself on the back.

To that end, don't be impressed here.  Every damn thing has been plagiarized.

Be careful acorn hunting.  Don't spit into the wind.  Don't mess around with Jim (or Slim.)

Love, Victurd

*JUST IN*. Long study uncovers root cause of Nation's divisiveness...

 

*JUST IN*. Long study uncovers root cause of Nation's divisiveness...

 

I bet you do.....

My psychology professor in college was fun to listen to.  Insteada lecturing us unripened brain students on psychological algorithms or in heuristics (I know, I had to look it up too).. he spoke 'real life' stuff to us.

One of my favorite stories of his... he was shopping in Wally World..  He happened down the same aisle as a mom that was pushing her cart where inside was a fairly new newborn, and, a termite in the 3 to 4 year old range. The newborn was an angel - of course he was strapped in and wouldn'ta fallen out even in a tsunami. The 3-4 yr old, not so much.

Down the toy aisle, said 3-4 yr old "Olive Oiled" a jigsaw puzzle into their cart, mom replied "NOOOOOO", removed it from the cart to it's proper place back on the shelf, then admonished "SIT.. . do NOT stand up.. i don't want you getting hurt, and you CANNOT put things that don't belong to us in the cart." This all interested our professor... so....

He followed them down the ailse where the toys were really for older kids. Said 3-4 year old (let's call him Jonathan, I don't remember his name though)..  Jonathan was able, from his sitting position, to reach out and grab the streamers that protruded from a nifty pink bicycle handlebars, toppling the bike, almost toppling the cart, almost jettisoning the tsunami-proof newborn.  "DAMNIT JONATHAN!" she screamed, then looked around sheepishly to see how many people heard so she could rank her embarrassment.  Just our professor buddy. "Whew."  More scolding of Jonathan

Jonathan would be mostly good down the length of an aisle, then, he would act his age, grab something, knock off something, or, beg "Mom I WANT one of those!" Repeated admonishments, reminders to "sit", and, "I TOLD YOU, we're here to get a few things for home, your birthday is in two weeks, NO TOYS TODAY." Around the 3rd or 4th time she had to say that, she spoke to herself "God, I sound just like my mother."

Professor getting his exercise in, staying a safe didstance as to not be thought of as a stalker, but still interested in the human psyche between partent-child. "Jonathan, I am NOT gonna tell you again" she bellowed in housewares.

Jonathan didn't seem overly concerned about the admonishments, but then again the vast majority of his life had been spent watching Days of Our Lives and Guiding Light so you can imagine his excitement just getting out. "Jonathan, DO NOT stand up" she sweated out as he did so in Electronics.  "I am NOT going to tell you again."

Cart was getting fuller of needed goodies, kinda squishing Jonathan's reaching ability - nonetheless, several more times the scolding continued "and I AM NOT going to tell you again."

Thus far, professor believed he hadn't been noticed by mom.  As she inched closer to checkout, it took her down the candy aisle. Eyeballing his favorite, Jonathon reached and successfully grabbed a bag of Sour Patch Kids gooey candy. With tremendous peripheral vision, mom instantly snatched it, put it back on the hook it came from, and one more time "And I AM NOT going to tell you again." Prof couldn't resist his urge to shed the Sherlock Holmes disguise, and just as soon as she got the "I AM NOT going to tell you again" outta her mouth, he finally added "I bet you do." 

Screw algorithms and heuristics, I loved the man, the class, his stories.

That's really the end of this blog.  When fat rear end sat down, I was determined to do a blog on all the different bets one can make on the Super Bowl. The last time I bet on the Super Bowl, I was SO SURE Payton Manning and the Denver Broncos were gonna smash Seattle, I put $100 on the Broncos. On the Broncos very first play, the center snapped it over Manning's head, the ball trickled out of the end zone for a safety and it only got worse from there. (Seattle 43, Denver 8). Needless to say, my betting days on the Super Bowl are over.

HOWEVER, if you'd like to make a bet, below there are ****36 pages**** of prop bets you could make.  Ain't a typo, it's really 36 pages.

Have a wonderful day, I'm betting you do. 

Love, Vucturd

Your 36 pages:    https://www.scribd.com/document/492520738/SB-LV-PROPS#from_embed