humor

NO! I’m not PARANOID!

I love my new (to me) cellular telephone.  Smart?  Hell, she’s brilliant!  Me, not so much…

One of the many things I’ve programmed into her is a function to my credit union.  To see when a deposit appears.  And when it does, my cell phone instantly alerts me.  It’s nice to know when I’ve a little more money.  Or any money.

So, the other morning, I’m working on the blog, and she makes noise.  I investigate.  A deposit for a small amount has appeared in my account!  Cool.

Wait a minute?

I wasn’t expecting any money.  And, it’s not my usual payday, and it’s a small amount…hmmm.  Maybe some kind person hit my PayPal link on the blog sidebar? (hint-hint)  (It has been known to happen!)  So, I check my PayPal account, no dice.  No money either.  Hmmm.

Then it hit’s me – what if someone compromised my account number and was testing it, waiting for my next disability check to post, then WHOOSH – siphons it all away?  Crap.

Next, I contemplate calling my Credit Onion to determine the source of the deposit.  But first I need to get worked up and worried.  (Remember When in Danger or in Doubt?)  There are protocols for such things.

Suddenly it occurs to me.  The State of Arizona owed me $25.00 from my income tax filing last month!  That’s it!

Whew.

Nope, not paranoid.  Just neurotic.

Adventures in Burgers, Dogs and Beah(s)

I hesitated to post this, as most gun bloggers who post about food post about fine food:  seafood, chili, gourmand cuisine.  Think Brigid, and many others.

I like to cook, and am not half bad at it – traditional American fare:  lasagna, deep-dish pizza, steak, hamburgers, hot dogs.  Baking.  Some sugar-free stuff.  But, with my various infirmities, standing and cooking usually isn’t a pleasant experience.  (I need to eat more salads, anyway).

So, I’ve taken to finding foods I like near my new digs.  Mexican food, bar & grills, pizza.  Usually accompanied by alcohol (or diet soda ).  Much depends on how close it is to ‘payday’.

We used to frequent a pizza place near my old house.  Our favorite waitress appeared to be a recovering tweaker from Boston – always pronounced beer as beah, so we adopted that.  For fun.  (Yes. sarcasm and mockery are our stock in trade!)

Of late we (my roommate and I) have found a couple new places.  One had excellent burgers and fries – at steak prices, and 52 craft beers available.  We took immediately to Mr. Pineapple Ale, then found out the craft beer was $7.00/pint!

As much as we liked the food, we went on the hunt to find Mr. Pineapple, and found it at another place we have been known to frequent.  For $4.50/pint!  Have three beers and you’re saving money!  (see what I did there?)

The problem is, the food at the cheaper beer place, while good, is not as good (or as costly) as the expensive beer place.  They do have 1/4 pound BACON-WRAPPED hot dogs, though!

A friend recently gifted me with a fine single-malt Scotch.  Perhaps I should just stay home with that.

I’m certain my doctor would agree.

Probably without the dark chocolate, though…

FTC – San Tan Brewery gives me nothing.  Now go away!

Building Character

I’m all about building character.

Not THIS kind…

Largely because of errors-in-judgement I’ve made in my own life, I find myself drawn to other’s opinions with regard to how one should live.  And I sometimes even try to apply them to my standards, and see how (or if) they fit.

I’ve occasionally referred to The Art of Manliness in this blog.  While much of what is written there is a how-to, some of it is a paradigm-breaking thing.  Thinking outside the box, as it were.

This recent essay challenges the mold of modern parenting.  The one wherein a parent tells the child they can accomplish anything if they put their mind to it.  Now my parents tried their own version of this which was I wasn’t living up to my potential.  Not exactly a positive message.  I tried to encourage my own daughter, but let her figure out her own limits for herself.  She wasn’t necessarily supposed to live my dreams.  She was to live hers.

“You can do anything you put your mind to!”

“The sky’s the limit!”

“You’re the best!”

“Follow your dreams!”

Did you hear these kinds of things growing up? Your parents sure meant well. They really felt like you were the most special creature to arrive on planet earth – a beautiful boy full of limitless possibilities. You could do anything in the world!

But now that that boy is grown up and in his twenties, you might find that such encouragement has become more paralyzing than motivating. If your possibilities really are endless, how will you ever decide which path to take and what to do with your life? (TAOM)

I would encourage you to visit the link above and also read the other essays.  I often learn things there – and I’m old!

Better than thinking I can blow up the Earth because it blocks my view of Venus!

Meanwhile, back @ TMCCC…

aka That Major Credit Card Company…

(from whence I medically retired)

Being a fraud investigator for a major credit card company was always educational.  Having worked with ex-military and ex-cops before as a PI, there were expectations with regard to fact-checking, double-checking and due diligence.

Because most of the staff had not the experience, background or education, sometimes short cuts were made.  (This is not to say that some of those investigators weren’t excellent…)

Fast forward to meetings for the IACCI  (The International Association of Credit Card Investigators, which later morphed into Financial Crimes Investigators in a new name).  Our building had lots of meeting space, so we always volunteered a place for the organization to hold meetings.  Folks from other financial institutions and local and federal law enforcement usually attended.

This particular day, the Attorney General for the State of Arizona was scheduled to attend and speak.  I was familiar enough with the AG’s Office to know he was a Democratic mover and shaker.  His name was (and is) Terry Goddard.

The black rubber marquee with white press-in letters stood proudly in the foyer opposite the main entrance, announcing both the meeting, and welcoming our guest speaker.  (I considered taking a photo of it with my cell-phone, but, only recently had personal photos inside the building been banned.)

The marquee read:

Welcome Attorney General Teri Goddard 

Whatever nimnul who had prepared the sign either had no idea who the AG was, or was a poor speller.

I toyed with the idea of letting it go, because I can sometimes be snarky that way, but did eventually alert management as to the error, and it was duly corrected.

Kinda wish I’d taken the picture, though…

‘Of all the vehicles I’ve loved before…’

The lovely Tamara had a recent post regarding personal vehicles, with political stickers there-a-fixed.  The consensus among correct-thinking-folks is to maintain a low profile.  No longer is a pro-gun, gun rights or even a libertarian rear plaque or bumper sticker deemed appropriate.

At the very least it’s considered non-tacticool.  Don’t want to alert potential auto-burglars of the Glock possibly stuffed under the seat in our absence!  (One of the Bob’s had one stolen outside a coffee shop in broad daylight!)

In my callow youth, I owned a number of nondescript cars, mostly with libertarian bumper stickers attached.  Never had a problem.  One did read ‘Question Authority‘.  Never had a problem during traffic stops for not current registration.

But, as the 90s appeared, and political clouds foretold of personal liberties being trashed (the Clinton Assault Weapon Ban, for example), I opted to be less visible.  Not concerned with the bad guys (criminals) as much as the bad guys (government).  And I attached fewer stickers.

After the accident, I acquired my dream vehicle – a 1989 Isuzu Trooper.  Molly and I had been looking at them, as the ‘gee, perhaps one day’ car to take us to the desert to shoot.  She never got to see her, but she paid for her.

She was christened Molly’s Trolley with a dash placard.  And once my time payment Life Membership to the NRA was paid off, I affixed an appropriate sticker on the driver’s wing window.  Remember those – wing windows?

But no other defilement was allowed.  Low profile, in a silver 4×4 with a cammie spare tire cover.  Yeah right.  And many trips were made to the desert, and to friends in New River.  And other places.

My youthful dreams of joking magnetic door signs reading ‘ANFO Distributing‘ never happened.  And I never even considered the ubiquitous gun show sale bumper sticker, ‘Vote From The Rooftops‘.

I did see (once, during the Nixon years) a sticker on another car reading, ‘Where is Lee Harvey Oswald When You Need Him?‘

I don’t think that would fly, today.  No one remembers who he was.

h/t Siddhartha, Tam

A Stalinist Version of The Onion!

(my apologies to The Onion)

As my regular readers know (as well as those suffering digestive distress) I surf the Internet looking for news, opinion, rights violations, and fellow libertarian travelers (to steal borrow from), especially when the guffaw well is dry.

Today is one of those posts.

I especially like finding stuff that mocks the control freaks – the Feinstein/Bloombergs of the World.  And, thankfully, we STILL have the right to do so! (as of this writing)

It occurred to me that I’d not shared a particular find with you – The People’s Cube!

They lampoon all that is Left with the World, and do it well.  Apparently, the main writer is a former commie who saw the liberty, free-market light.

But, there is a serious side, as well.  Go and peruse.  And also be amused.

NYPD Food Felonies Unit to Help Make Better Food Choices

Inspired by the dramatic improvements in New Yorkers’ health and well-being after he banned smoking and junk food, as well as large sodas, salt, trans fats, Styrofoam food containers, and loud earbuds, Mayor Michael Bloomberg has announced that the NYPD is organizing a Food Felonies Unit (FFU) to further combat the proliferation of food crimes.Nicknamed “Double-F-U,” the newly-formed unit is expected to be involved largely with restaurant menu supervision in its crime-prevention function…MORE >>

Dear Americans, these are some questions I have collected in 16 years of living in your country. Please see if you can answer them for me:

• If all cultures are equal, why doesn’t UNESCO organize International Cannibalism Week festivals?

• Why do those demanding “equal pay for equal work” never protest against “equal pay for little or no work”?

• Why has no politician ever run on men’s issues or promised to improve the lives of males?

• If all beliefs are equally valid, how come my belief in the absurdity of this maxim gets rejected by its proponents?

• Ever noticed that for the past thirty years, we’ve been hearing we have less than ten years to save the planet?

Much of it is reductio ad absurdum, but funny, and pointed, regardless…

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (Phone)

I’m kind of an old-fashioned guy.  Or should I say old-school.  I still like revolvers.

But, this doesn’t mean I’m a luddite.  I DO appreciate what technology brings us.  Anesthesia, antibiotics, magazines that hold more than 7 rounds…

And cellular telephones.  Brought to us as a result of the Space Race.

I bought my first cell phone at a gun show (quelle surprise!) in the mid 90s.  Why?  Because I spent more-and-more time in the desert, and thought (presuming service was available) that modern communication was preferable to walking in 20 miles, if my then 8-year-old Isuzu Trooper failed.

And, just like advances in home computers, I’ve grown to appreciate the advances made in cell phones.  But, with my financial condition, I was never able to afford anything past the basic flip phone.  And I’ve kept them long past their expected life span.  Two in eight years.  My last one was on four years, had a screen failure, and was over her contract.  I was paying month-to-month, not able to improve my technological lot.

Until 10 days ago…

My roomie, a savvy businesswoman who lives and runs her business on her smart phone, decided she wanted to upgrade her phone to the new Apple IPhone – and she asked me if I wanted her ‘old’ smart phone!  At first I balked, because I was unfamiliar with the operation (okay, it scared me a little), and I started trolling the Internet looking for new smartphones.  Then, I saw their price!

Okay, you got a deal!   She got her Apple, and I got her htc One S.  And yes, Virginia, it IS a steep learning curve!  But not insurmountable.

The fact that I can surf the Web, check all my email accounts, take wonderful photographs, do text messaging (which I loathe), and even make telephone calls is amazing!  AND, if my four-year old-PC fails, in a pinch, I can even write this blog from there!  That, and check email without climbing stairs – which is a good thing with my disabilities.

Thanks, J. for your kindness and generosity!

PS – I like semiautomatic pistols, too!

PPS – attn FTC, neither htc nor Apple gave me anything.  Go find your own phone!

So, they got the bastard.

AND, as it’s Massachusetts, and he’s being charged* with acts of terrorism, killing at least four people, wounding 180+ others, evading arrest, shooting at authorities, killing a police officer, etc., I fully expect a show trial (complete with the trashing of the United States), followed by 3 years in minimum security.  Or probation.

Have they actually called this terrorism, yet, or is it ‘workplace violence’, like the Ft. Hood guy?

Perhaps he’ll be out in time to run for Congress in 2014?

Of course, I’m jaded.

(and YES, I know he’ll be doing federal time.  This is more a comment on ‘the system’, and the courts in Massachusetts)

*correction – he’s not yet been charged.

The Ol’ Clock on the Wall…

…says we’re in need of guffawing!  (Well, I AM, at least!)

Hopefully, this next week will be better for all!  :-)

It’s April 18th, again…

…and I harken back to that whole Paul Revere (William Dawes, Dr. Samuel Prescott, et al) thing.

Paul Revere

I remember reading history (guessing it’s not even offered in school, anymore, unless it’s politically-correct) about Mr. Revere, patriot, silversmith, artisan.

It seems his father had emigrated to the British Colonies from France (!)  His name was Apollo Rivoire, and his son Paul was his namesake.  Sadly, many of the English New Worlders had difficulty pronouncing his name – so he changed it.

To Paul Revere.

Or in his father’s words, “I changed it so the bumpkins would find it easier to pronounce!”

Bumpkins in the Nation – even back then!