This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here.
Every time you comment, an angel gets its wings. If you like what you see, please follow and share.
I had a dream the other night. It was not unlike other
dreams. Light fog backlit with the sun stretched across a verdant field, a pasture
really. But no horses or cattle grazed amongst the grass. Instead, the
landscape was dotted with churches. Not small chapels these, but great huge
behemoths. Alternating buildings of brick, clapboard and glass with steeples spreading
upward toward the sun hoping for favor from above. Congregations of bees flowed
to and fro between the churches. They held the pollen and nectar, but they
could never decide which was right.
Curiosity is lust for the mind, so I floated over scene this
much like the bees of the congregation. I entered the first church, with its
stone edifice standing proudly, with trepidation. I am in need of supplication of my fears. The
keeper of the stamen smiled and held out his plate, but I have no tithe or
pollen to give. With a look of disdain, he asks me to come clean of my sin and pay
the heavenly fine. I have great sin of anger and wrath, certainly, but I
have no fine.
He retorts that the sin must be paid in a fine of nectar and
pollen. It is with these the burden is relieved. But I have none and I have
nothing for him, so he has nothing for me. I move on.
And so it went, from brick edifice to glass chapel. Entering
with hope and leaving with none. The only thing these buildings wanted was
tithes and pollen. No fragrance, seed or nectar coming from the building like
you would see in flowers. No supplication or drink for the weary traveler. Only
surrender, theft, and slavery to the needs of the building.
At the far end of the field, I arrived to a very small
building that was in its first bloom. In this place, there was welcome for the
poor and destitute. The stamen keeper was a bit concerned I had not been given
pollen to tithe; he took pity and allowed me to stay.He provided me with nectar and I was sated to
sleep. Then a bird came and I was his dinner. The bird thanked the stamen
keeper for his service and left him a tithe.
And now I realize the fields of churches were not there to
serve the Sower. They had blown in from afar to teach us of falseness and ill
will. The Sower himself is concerned because the bees used to fertilize his
crops have been blown to the winds and became dinner to the birds.And he will act, even if it is within dreams.
“Here we are all, by day; by night, we're hurled By dreams, each one, into a several world.”
Nostalgia and dreams of the past.
The subject comes up in weird ways. Sometimes it's just a song:
Or dreaming when TV only had three channels and no remote control:
I tell you, it was hard work hauling my fat butt off the couch without spilling the popcorn. And the spilled drinks....
But today, it is food.
Scanning Facebook (an addiction worse than heroin), I was directed to an article on "50 Foods You Should Eat Before You Die." A BBC rundown of the essential food everyone should have consumed, whether I liked it or not. I was pleased to find out I had eaten 46 of the foods, thanks to living in an area with an lots of recent immigrants and great restaurants. Most of what ate was delicious. If the Grim Reaper should come tonight, I should feel pretty fulfilled.
But one of the foods that I had not tried intrigued me. Guinea Pig. Apparently, it is a staple food in South America. The locals raise them like rabbits, then slaughter them for use in stews.
That got me thinking. How long has it been since I had rabbit? Yeah, I know. They're cute and cuddly and how could I put such a creature in hot fry pan with bacon grease. I'm a carnivore. I had an Aunt that raised them for meat and made a lovely rabbit stew. It was hearty and filling, with lovely thick gravy and was especially nice to have on a chill autumn evening. I wonder why we don't serve this wonderful item anymore.
I blame this guy:
Every time you think of rabbit, you think of him. Same thing for his duck pal, too. When was the last time you had a big, juicy roast duck. Really? And those black feathers and beady eyes didn't come into your mind? It must due to the annoyance factor of the character. Foghorn Leghorn is truly obnoxious, so we chomp on chicken joyously. And Porky just looks like he would fit on a grill. But Bugs and Daffy? They are almost real people. That would be...cannibalism:
It's time we gave the cow a break and return this fine, tender rodent to the dinner table.
Hey, Heidy and Howdy! It's your old pal, Harry Handy, the randy dandy DJ here on WOFT, Old Farts Radio, the jumping jukebox for the Geritol generations. We used to say "Don't trust anybody over 30." Now , it's "Everyone is half my age!"
I've been off the air for a while. Got involved a little legal kerfuffle with my second ex concerning running with scissors. It sounded something like this...
Yeah. pretty bad and a sharp object lesson for sure.
And now a word from our sponsor.
Yes, that is Betty White when she was young and sexy. Now, she's old and...old
And so are we.
Remember when our theme song was:
Especially after finally hitting the home run? She insisted on cuddling and watching the stars when all you wanted to do was get something to eat.
Well, we know how that went. But you have to say she turned out to be the spitting image of her mother.
And now your daughter is fighting that same breeze from down under her skirts and the guy reminds you to much of you.
You mother was right.
(It has a good beat and you can dance to it)
Uh, oh. I hear the lawyers. They are looking to shut me down again. Until next time...
Abrams, and welcome to The New Yankee Workshop. This season, we have been featuring projects dealing
with problems commonly found by professional woodworkers and cabinet makers.One of those problems is delinquent accounts. Cash flow is important with small businesses
like custom millwork shops.It is vital
that you get paid on time so that you can move on to the next project. We asked our viewers to come up with
suggestions that would help alleviate this pressing problem. One, a Mr. Anthony Soprano, of Elizabeth, NJ, has
come up with a very novel method to take care of this irritating mess, this beautiful cherry wood hope chest.
Mr.Soprano writes:“I run a medium sized shop, BadaBing Customs
here in Elizabeth, and we were always having issues with slow paying
accounts.My prior attempts to clean up
the receivables failed miserably until I saw this box in the car repair business
next door.After speaking with Ducks,
the owner of the place, I quickly drew up the plans and set to work.To date, I have built eight for different
shop related problems and not once has it failed me. “
Mr. Soprano was kind enough to send us his plans and with a
little modification, we are going to show our viewers how it works.
The box we are building today uses ½” fine grained cherry
stock for the top and sides, with 5/4 MDB used for the bottom.The box is joined using dovetail joints,
strengthened with ¼”X2” stainless steel screws.This gives the box a load capacity of 300lbs, large enough to handle to
worst receivable.The top can be left plain, or can be decorated with any form
of molding or inlays, as your needs require.The cleverest feature of this box is the channels that are routed in the
bottom to allow for fluids to drain safely in to the ground.This especially useful if you have to
customize the delinquent to fit inside the box.
To start, we set up the power table saw with the rip fence
set at 1” to square off the ends of the account write off to assure proper fit
in the box.Before we use any power
tools, let's take a moment to talk about shop safety. Be sure to read,
understand, and follow all the safety rules that come with your power tools.
Knowing how to use your power tools properly will greatly reduce the risk of personal
injury. And remember this: there is no more important safety rule than to wear
these — safety glasses.This is
especially important if you are using these for human dismemberment.
Don’t be in a hurry as you run the debtor along the saw
fence.Legs and feet have a tendency to
hang in saw blades. The heat generated
will easily ruin even the toughest diamond surfaces, so a water bath jig is
important. Set your shop vac on wet and
use a tapered nozzle to control any fluid leakage.When finished, wipe down the table and saw
blade with denatured alcohol and finish with a light coating of machine
oil.Proper maintenance will extend the
life off all your tools.
Next, load up your router with a dovetail bit.Using the clampdown on your miter box to stabilize
the tool, press the face of the project down on the bit and press upward for
the most effective decorative effect.While this step does absolutely nothing for the box you are building,
the screams of the debtor are still most satisfying.Sweep up any stray pieces and place in these
really nice designer garbage bags and set them outside.A neat shop is a happy shop.
When you are finished with the ripping and cutting, glue up
the upper sides of each dovetail and tap them together.Clamp them in place and let set overnight.The next morning, load the write off into the
box and fix the top on using the stainless steel screws, spacing them 6” apart
along the length of both sides. You are then ready to transport the whole
problem to your favorite dumping ground.Mr. Soprano notes that he likes to top his with a cracked pot, to
symbolize to others what might well happen to them if they don’t pay on
time.In testing out this project, I found that I
reduced my own outstanding receivables 20 percent by the time I was finished.And we didn’t have to pay Kevin his final
paycheck, a complete win for all of us at the New Yankee Workshop family. We
couldn’t have been more pleased.
And neither will you as your cash flow problems fade in the
Or as we like to call it at my house, way damn too early. I'm waiting for my wife to get ready for work. So, I waste my time surfing Facebook and the various news sights. The smell of fresh brewed coffee trying its best to wake me up. I add a bit of sugar and taste the bittersweet brew as it warms my insides. You wonder why I do this? Well, for one, my wife doesn't drive anymore due to medical reasons. But, she still has to get to work. Therefore, here I am.
I hear the dryer tumble with the load of laundry my night owl son put on before he went to bed, probably an hour before we woke up. Ah, it just shut off, so now I can think about what I really am writing.
I usually leave the computer on so I don't have to wait for it to boot. It seems to be more efficient. It is almost as grumpy as I am to be woken up in a room where you can't see the shoes lined up at the front door. I call up the local news station. Long ago, I named their news "The Evening Body Count." There might be one uplifting story in an hour broadcast. Otherwise, it is death, destruction and general human failings. The same melancholy song played by the fallen angels throughout history. I make a note to quit watching to improve my mood, but I'll ignore it.
I feel the keys as I fly around the board. Over the years, I have developed a fairly good speed, as least for a guy. Ideas clash and I make edits on the fly. That doesn't make sense. Did I really leave that word out? Yes, KennyKat, I'll feed you. Is it really trash day? Consciousness slowly lights my mind up like the dawn...
Yes, Dear? No, I don't know where your shoes are....
A hot, humid day in Savannah and a working girl is found dead on one of the squares. It is a show killing meant to terrify and confuse and it grabs your attention. This book hits the ground running and doesn't stop until the finish line. This is the third book in the Elise Sandberg series and like the others, the moss draped city of Savannah stands out as a willing accomplice. Well worth your time.