Thursday, April 27, 2023
Wednesday, September 14, 2022
Friday, May 6, 2022
Sadness
Two things I won't be attending tomorrow: my grandson's college graduation (his grandmother is there, and I'm tending the dogs) and yet another memorial service.
I have just learned of the passing of another of my Scouting mentors:
Winfred Clark "Wink" Chamberlain
March 1, 1921-April 7, 2022
Wednesday, April 27, 2022
Another 31,536,000 seconds
Today is the 36th anniversary of my 29th birthday. As I type this, 65 years ago my mother was in labor (in spite of being old enough to know better.)
Clearly, the fact that I have nothing to say never stops me from blogging, but having posted my first blog on April 27th I feel obligated to blather on every year in spite of the fact that I try not to celebrate birthdays.
I posted my first blog 10 years ago today, so this would be my 11th birthday blog if I hadn't missed 2015. (That was the year I retired. Must have burned out.) It is also my 120th published blog post, so I'm averaging one a month. Probably way above average for all the dead blogs out here in the blogosphere. A hundred and twenty posts and not a word worth reading must be some kind of record. I will set this one to post at 6:38 PM Central Time: 2,051,222,400 seconds after I made my debut.
I have to admit that even I am growing tired of the self-deprecating humor. How many times can I say I have nothing to say? (That seems to be infinite.) How many ways can I say it? (My guess is seven, but that may be high.) I won't promise to stop though, because to do so I'd have to write something interesting.
For those of you who have the luxury (as I had for 64 years) of not thinking about Medicare (except when you notice what comes out of your check before you get it) this is the year that changes. (For me. When you hit 65 it'll change for you, unless the government makes changes before then.)
Here is all I got in the mail today:
I'm putting it down to coincidence, since I don't think the government has its sh... act together enough to deliver that ON everyone's 65th birthday. (If you got one on yours let me know I'm wrong.)
It does seem like something they'd do though, since I really needed it 3 months ago. So, in an attempt to write something not completely useless, here are a few things you'll need to know when you get here:
- Your medicare will start on the first day of the month you turn 65. (So I have been on medicare for 27 days now.)
- You need to start your medicare application 3 months before that and get all your ducks in a row. (You're dealing with the government, you know.)
- In spite of all that money that has been coming out of your check for all those years, you will receive a bill for your part B premium. It will be for the first 3 months (in my case Daisy Duck's nieces.)* This can be a shock if you're not prepared for it, however (in spite of the intimidating government letter) they won't cancel you until after they've sent the third intimidating letter in 90 days. If (like me) you have health insurance that becomes secondary, and that premium goes down, it'll also take about 3 months for that to take effect, and (so they've told me) you'll get a check in the mail for what you've been overcharged.
SO, when all is said and done, with the reduction of my current premium minus what I have to pay for medicare my retirement check should go up about $24 a month. (Now for that vacation in Aruba....)
And so much for the joys of turning 65. Now you kids GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!!
*I hope somebody catches that reference. I considered saying "Huey, Dewey and Louie," which would have amused me but no one else. Kind of like this blog.**
**I just realized (while proofreading..., yes, I do that and this is what I end up with. How sad is that?) that I had just used the "ducks in a row" cliche. So I guess my ducks were April, May and June.
Friday, April 1, 2022
A Word to the Woke
SHUT UP!
Okay, that's two words. (It really should have been four.)
But my real message today is to the unwoke:
It's our fault. We're too polite. We need to point out stupidity when we hear it. If we don't the time will come (and it is upon us) when none dare call it stupid.
This is not a joke, although ironically I plan to post it on April Fools Day. (To the best of my recollection I've never posted a blog on April 1st, but I'm too tired to think of a joke, unless you count this entire blog.)
Well, I started this 2 days ago, and so far I got nothin' else, so ...
GET OFF MY LAWN!
Friday, October 22, 2021
Friday, October 1, 2021
The End
No, not the end of this blog (sorry to say.) But you might want to start selling off your crypto:
I am now the proud owner of 0.00061568 BitCoin.
My $29 investment is now (12:21 PM 10/1/2021) worth $29.24. Taking out my $0.50 transaction fee, I'm down 26 cents. (No, actually, since five bucks was free for signing up with CoinBase I'm up $4.74.)
On a positive note, if this doesn't kill it, nothing will.
My next target: the man bun.
I'll keep you posted.
Now get off my lawn.
Tuesday, April 27, 2021
Will you still need me? Will you still feed me?
If I'm still breathing when this posts I will have been on this planet for 2,019,686,400 seconds. I've been composing this (in my head) for about 4 days, and still have nothing to say. That makes 283,996,800 seconds since my first blog post without saying anything worth reading.
So you kids get off my lawn.
Friday, January 29, 2021
This Day in History
It's Friday, my usual blog day, and my usual self-imposed post time, whizzed past 51 minutes ago. But it's still Friday, and I can still blog. It is also my late mothers 102nd birthday, so that gives me content. Several things that happened on this date remind me of other stories (most about me) giving me an excuse to travel down rabbit holes. (Since when have I needed an excuse?) So, without further ado (wait, I'm never without ado) here are a few before that historic date:
In 1820, less than a century, a mere 98 years before my mother was born, King George III, the British monarch who inspired a band of American heros to declare their independance from the British Empired, died. As a result his son became King George IV.
In 1843, future President William McKinley was born. While McKinley was running for President in 1896 a gold prospector in Alaska named Denali, the tallest mountain in North America, Mount McKinley in "homage" to the candidate. The name stuck until 2015. After being elected 25th President he became the first President to ride in an automobile and the second to be assasinated. He was succeeded by Theodore Roosevelt, the youngest person ever to take the Presidential Oath of Office, which he remains to this day.
In 1915 a lieutenant in the German Army by the name of Erwin Rommel lead his company in a daring attack that captured four block-houses in France. He received the Iron Cross - First Class for his actions, and despite Germany's loss in WWI went on to become Field Marshal, the famous Desert Fox who led Hitler's panzers across North Africa.
Three years later, on January 29th 1918, 68 years after The Raven was published, 57 years after Kansas became the 34th State, my mother was born in Polkville, Mississippi.
I want to go down a rabbit hole about Poe's Raven, but it's all about me and I realize I'll just cut it out of the next draft.
In 1936, the first 5 members, Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, Honus Wagner, Christy Matthewson and Walter Johnson, were elected to the US Baseball Hall of Fame.
In 1958, while I was still in diapers, Joanne Woodward married Paul Newman. A second rabbit hole, also about me, but I'll go down it: only one degree of separation. I was an extra in a movie Mr. Newman filmed in the Baton Rouge and New Orleans area. "Met" would be an exageration but on the first day I got to shoot (Baton Rouge) I was standing near the coffee pot and I look up and there's a guy standing there who looks a like Paul Newman after a really rough weekend. Then I remembered he was playing former Louisiana Governor Earl Kemp Long.
In 1962 Peter, Paul, and Mary signed their first recording contract. Another rabbit hole, not about me (about my dad, and slightly embarrassing, but I'll tell it.) Back in the '50s (before he met my mom, I'm pretty sure) my dad had seen Les Paul and Mary Ford on Bourbon Street. I'm sure I don't need to tell anyone who they were. But somehow, from the very slight resemblence in name, he always conflated the two. In his defense I don't think he listened to any folk music and knew nothing about PP&M, and he did remember that Les could play the guitar. This story also probably has more to do with what knowledge I have of Les Paul than the solid body electric guitar.
In 1964 the magnificent motion picture Dr. Strangelove premiered.
I don't want to get into politics but, short as it was, that last paragraph sorta did, and in praise of a liberal classic, but it may be one of the very few both sides can agree on in this day and time. The next probably is not.
In 1979 Deng Xiaoping and Jimmy Carter signed accords further normalizing relations between the US and the Peoples Republic of China. I believe this was another step down the slippery slope leading to our largest political problem today. But to acknowledge my sides culpability in this I will offer (from memory, don't "Um, actually..." me) the old Vulcan adage: "Only Nixon could go to China."
In 1977 "Roots" premiered on television, and in 2002 George W. Bush introduced the phrase "Axis of Evil."
Well, it looks like I managed to fill a whole blog with content, mostly plagiarized from History.com, and by 9:35 PM.
Tuesday, January 19, 2021
January 19, 1925
96 years ago today my father was born in Jackson, Louisiana. He was actually born at the East Louisiana State Hospital (known throughout Louisiana as the insane asylum.) As much fun as we had with that fact, my grandfather worked there and lived on the farm. Most of the original grounds (if I'm not mistaken) are now part of the Dixon Correctional Institute.
The same day, in Kenner, Louisiana, blues legend Henry Gray also made his debut. I am embarrased to admit that before I started writing this I had to Google him to see if he was still alive. He's not, we lost him last February. I'm even more embarrased at how little I knew about his career. I'm a blues fan, but far from being an expert or scholar. I did get to see him with his band The Cats at The Caterie (a great Baton Rouge bar that we lost to fire several years ago.) I guess I won't see him again, and I won't see anybody at the Caterie.
And, in the immortal words of Forrest Gump: "That's all I have to say about that." So you kids get off of my lawn.
Friday, May 1, 2020
As Promised
When I met my wife Claudette she had one cat, Tiger. Tiger was a female, long-haired grey Tabby. I didn't get to know her well, but we spent some quality time together. Claudette and I had a long distance relationship for the first 3-4 years. During that time workers in her apartment building let Tiger escape, she was gone for several weeks, and came back home with end stage kidney disease.
Tiger is the first urn on the shelf btw. That, too, is another story. I don't think she remembers but Claudette had said earlier that if she ever got another cat she'd get two so they could keep each other company while she was at work. Be careful what you ask for....
A few weeks after Tiger passed Claudette went to Walmart. At the front door was a family with a box and a "Free Kittens" sign. They were holding up a pretty little calico as Claudette walked in, but she tried not to notice. After a somewhat lengthy shopping trip Claudette walked out and they were still there, still holding the pretty little calico kitten. "What can it hurt" she asked herself as she went over to hold the kitty. Looking down into the box she saw a grey tabby looking up at her. This tabby was short haired where Tiger was long haired, but there was enough resemblance. "Can I have two?" she asked. "You can have all five" was the answer, of course. "No, two is enough. Can you hold 'em for me while I go back in for litter boxes, kitten chow, ...?"
Anyway, when Claudette moved down here Bandit and Sneaky came with her. We got married and bought a house in town. Her son had a German Shepherd, and took in a stray kitty. They didn't have enough room for the Shepherd, and the kitty produced 5 more. She told him we would be adopting the Shepherd, and asked if there was a solid black female kitten. He told there was on with a tiny white tip on her tail. So we went to visit for Christmas, I got to looking at 2 grey tabbies (and decided on names) and there were 2 other black kittens. She doesn't remember saying it, but it was Claudette who said it was a shame to break up the set. We had a couple of months before we took possession of the house, so she told her son to try to give away as many as possible before we came back for 'em. He gave away one, and that's how we got Tipsy (the black female with the white tip on her tail,) Solomon (long haired tabby,) Hiram (short haired tabby) ... and ....
Claudette had had a black female cat named "Beauty" in the past. The fourth kitten we brought home was black and, we thought, female, so on their first visit to our vet, when we had to give them names, Claudette thought for a minute on this one, and said "Beauty." A few months later, shortly before we were scheduled to have Beauty spayed, we (okay, Claudette) realized that we would have to have him neutered. And that is how we got Boober.
So that is the backstory on all our cats, through my 2019 blog post.
Looks like this post is all backstory, so get off my lawn.
Monday, April 27, 2020
BRAVE NEW WORLD
I am setting this to post 63 years, to the minute, after I was born. It will also be exactly 8 years after my first blog post.
I started writing this yesterday and managed to get 2 sentences down. May use 'em, may not. Wound up spending the day reading this blog. THIS blog. Every stinkin' post. (In reverse chronological order, btw.) Some of them weren't too bad, if I say so myself, though most lived up to my usual description. I may go through and tag everything this year, "not too bad" or "complete waste of time." Some might be both...?
A lot has happened in the year since I posted last. We lost another beloved pet (and gained seven. Need a kitten?) I got a detached retina for Christmas. The economy soared..., and then ...
Here we are now.
THE NEW NORMAL
No. No, it's not. The thing that scares me most about this current situation is hearing people speaking as though it is permanent. This is a temporary change to address a problem that will pass. Will it have a lasting effect, probably. Permanent? No. Nothing is permanent.
I have never read "Brave New World." I have a copy somewhere and I need to find it. But I have read "1984," "Animal Farm," and a few lesser known dystopian novels, not to mention the movies ("Logan's Run," "Soylent Green," ... okay, I did mention a couple of 'em.) One thing that those stories have in common is a totalitarian government isolating the individual in order to control the populace. It is difficult to look at our current situation without dwelling on that.
I have watched more television in the last 2 months than I usually do, I'm sure everybody has. About 2 weeks into this shutdown I noticed that advertising changed, started to acknowledge this shutdown, treat it as permanent. High production value, not slapped together. It made me wonder how far in advance they had been produced. I can concoct some elaborate conspiracy theories..., now is not the time.
More productively, I have read, and re-read, some Bible passages, leading me to wonder where we stand in the Book of Revelation. Now is not the time.
MORE ON THAT LATER
I am going to try to get back to blogging once a week. (Maybe more..., I'm thinking of trying my hand at some specialized blogs.) This Friday I will fill you in on the pet situation. (I took a break in the middle of that sentence, and when I came out of my room Boober ran in and hid under my bed. When I looked in the hall I saw that he was being pursued by three tiny kittens. These are the tales you can look forward to.)
I can also rant further about the current world situation. Much of that is already written, and cut from this rambling post.
But for now, let me just leave you with this cheery thought:
WE ARE GOING TO DIE
Every one of us. The only questions are when and how, and the end grows closer each second. The only weapon we have against death is to live while we can.
So, live while you can, my friend. Go out on the lawn, breath the air. You can even come onto my lawn, just don't breath in my face.
Saturday, April 27, 2019
Volume 8
Anyway, this is the 33rd anniversary of my 29th birthday, and I've spent most of the day, so far, clicking "Like" and pasting "Thank you" on Facebook happy birthdays. I'm glad the computer has given us so much free time.
"Back to blogging." That implies that one ever blogged in the first place. Assuming that "blogging" implies writing something worth reading ..., I have yet to start.
Over the past year I've lost too many friends..., I don't want to blog about that today.
I worked two months giving tours of the State Capitol, until Civil Service decided that filing campaign finance reports constitutes prohibited political activity.
I've threatened it for seven years, but I'm ready to make this a political blog..., as soon as I get around to it.
And until I do, get off my lawn.
Friday, November 23, 2018
Happy Acadian Day
But the reason I started this post was to say a few things about "Black Friday." I often hear it said that the day after Thanksgiving is so called because that's the day the American retail industry moves into "the black." Really? Retail, in this country, operates at a loss 11 months of the year? Does this idea disturb anyone but me?
Well, I did a little research while rushing, at the last minute, as I am wont to do, in an attempt to get this posted 15 minutes from right now, and this is what I found:
The earliest evidence of the phrase Black Friday applied to the day after Thanksgiving in a shopping context suggests that the term originated in Philadelphia, where it was used to describe the heavy and disruptive pedestrian and vehicle traffic that would occur on the day after Thanksgiving. This usage dates to at least 1961. More than twenty years later, as the phrase became more widespread, a popular explanation became that this day represented the point in the year when retailers begin to turn a profit, thus going from being "in the red" to being "in the black."3
Okay..., so a "popular explanation" isn't necessarily fact..., let's look further:
The earliest known use that presents the "black ink theory" appeared in the edition of November 28, 1981 of the Philadelphia Inquirer:If the day is the year's biggest for retailers, why is it called Black Friday? Because it is a day retailers make profits - black ink, said Grace McFeeley of Cherry Hill Mall. "I think it came from the media," said William Timmons of Strawbridge & Clothier. "It's the employees, we're the ones who call it Black Friday," said Belle Stephens of Moorestown Mall. "We work extra hard. It's a long hard day for the employees."4
Is Ms. McFeeley the source of the now popular explanation? I notice she didn't say anything about profit for the year, just that they could count on being in the black that day.
The Christmas shopping season is of enormous importance to American retailers and, while most retailers intend to and actually do make profits during every quarter of the year, some retailers are so dependent on the Christmas shopping season that the quarter including Christmas produces all the year's profits and compensates for losses from other quarters.4
Okay, so some retailers do, in fact, operate at a loss until the end of November, but the industry as a whole makes a profit year round. I feel better now.
Now all you black friday shoppers GET OFF MY LAWN.
*1 https://kadn.com/acadian-day-louisianas-least-known-holiday/
*2 https://www.daysoftheyear.com/days/acadian-day/
*3 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Friday_(shopping)
*4 https://www.businessinsider.com/meaning-of-black-friday-retail-accounting-2015-11
Friday, April 27, 2018
I'm back.
I did have an occasional urge to post, but I subdued it. I even had a topic now and then. I may remember some of them this year. For the last two weeks I've been reminding myself I need to write something. Now I'm scrambling to write something, take a shower, and get to High Twelve.
Thirty two years ago today I celebrated a birthday. After that I thought I was old. (I didn't have a clue.) Since, other people have celebrated, and I appreciate it, and here's a "thank you" for all the "happy birthday"s, but I claim I don't celebrate. (I have been known to take a day off when I was working. Does that constitute a celebration?)
I was born on Grant's birthday. (Ulysses Simpson or Hiram Ulysses, whichever you prefer.) My mother told me that when I was on the way whenever my dad got a $50 bill he'd say "I got another YOU-la-SEEZ S" and put it away to "pay for the baby." I always thought that was a funny coincidence. Another was that my dad was born on Robert E. Lee's birthday.
For years I thought I was born on Carol Burnett's birthday, but she was born on the 26th. When I started on this last night I looked it up. I had figured out I was wrong before and needed to confirm it. Oh well. My mother always claimed to be born on Edison's birthday, and she was off by almost 2 weeks.
While I was googling that, I found a few more people I share a birthday with. (Google wished me a happy birthday, by the way. I love Big Brother.) Mumtaz Mahal was born 4/27. She has a nice tomb. Frankenstein's grandmother (Mary Walstonecraft Godwin.) Samuel Morse, Walter Lantz, Kitty Kelly and Frank Belknap Long. Jack Klugman, Coretta Scott King, and Casey Kasem. Judy Carne, Cuba Gooding, Sr., and Sheena Easton. The King of the Netherlands and the Mayor of Newark.
Well they can all get off my lawn. (If not off my birthday.)
Monday, January 29, 2018
Mom
Here is a picture of her from the late 1950s (best I can figure) along with my Dad and their pet monkey.
And here is a link to her obituary:
http://obits.theadvocate.com/obituaries/theadvocate/obituary.aspx?n=maxie-dawson&pid=175274686
Friday, January 19, 2018
Dad
After all, it's really your lawn.
Thursday, April 27, 2017
My Last Blog Post
For a while.
I posted my first blog entry 1826 days ago. (That's 2,629,440 minutes for those of you scoring at home.) Five years for normal people.
I would say that I've run out of things to say, but that implies that I had anything to say in the first place. Having "studied" blogs a little bit in the last few months (though you couldn't tell it from this one) I have learned that they are considered by some a powerful tool. I have been told that their power lies in the ability to interact with the reader. That's where it all falls apart for me.
When I started reading blogs I found that the comment section at the bottom was generally populated by morons. I had no desire to interact with anyone, especially if they have nothing better to do than comment on something I've written.
But now, having actually found at least one successful blog that I enjoy, I see that my cynical view may have missed something. It is apparently possible for someone to be a professional smartass and still like their readers. Not me, of course, but someone.
I guess I'm doing a little house cleaning before taking a hiatus. In November I predicted a return of civility to political discourse. I'm still waiting. In the meantime I want to share with you three truths which I believe to be indisputible. I am however aware of the human ability to dispute anything (I have been accused of this myself) so I will list them in what I think is order of increasing disputability, and since I threatened in my last post to talk politics in this one, here you go:
- Donald Trump is NOT the Messiah.
- Donald Trump is NOT the Anti-Christ.
- Donald Trump IS the President of the United States.
Anyway, this happens to be the 31st Anniversary of my 29th Birthday. As I do every April 27th, I will set this post to publish at 6:38 PM. Then I'm taking a break. If I post anything here in the next 31,536,000 seconds it will be because I think I have something to say.
So until then, GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!!!
Friday, January 20, 2017
Happy New Year
DOES ANY OF THIS SOUND FAMILIAR?
"Do you feel older?" (Every stinkin' minute, but that's beside the point.)
"You're a year older than you were yesterday." (No, I'm not. I'm a day older than I was yesterday. I'm a year older than I was this time last year.)
(Or my favorite, from my mother, about two minutes after I turned 40: "Well, you're pushin' 50." But maybe I should let that go. After all, she did me a big favor on 27 April 1987 by having major surgery, so I never actually turned 30. TWENTY NINE FOREVER!!!)
But my point, in the unlikely event that my subtle sarcasm has obscured it, is that January 1st is only one day after December 31st. SURPRISE!
IT GETS WORSE...
The thought process doesn't end with the annual celebration of our birth, or the passing of the winter solstice. We extend it to decades. "The Seventies: tie dye and bell bottoms." (That always says 60s to me.) "The Sixties: flower power and free love." (Well..., yeah... but what about acid and the Manson family?) "The Fifties: 'Sunday, Monday, Happy Days...'" (I bet that's stuck in your head all weekend.)
Maybe it's just me, but I find it symbolic of the whole problem* that we conceptualize a "decade of the sixties" (for example) that ran from 1960 to 1969, when, in fact, the seventh decade of the twentieth century actually ran from 1961 to 1970. The turn of the twentyfirst century happened 1/1/2001, and even though everyone appeared to actually be aware of the fact, it was just another New Years, even though the big celebration the year before had been dampened by a bogus computer panic.
But worse than that, the worst thing of all (... that I can think of ... at the moment ....) is the concept of a "generation."
THE PROBLEM WITH MILLENNIALS
As I recall** I first heard the term "millennial" around 1995. "The generation being born now won't even remember the twentieth century." Since I have fairly clear memories of my second birthday, I figured around '98 would be more accurate, but I'll give 'em five years.
I feel compelled to rant on the most useless generation in history after listening to a friend of mine rant on "Boomers." Granted, we had gotten a little alcohol into him at the time, but that is the elixir of truth. He opined that we were "the most horrid generation." Such blatant slander was obviously unsupported by facts, yet it still surprised me, coming as it did from what I had taken to be one of the least unproductive members of a generation that has yet to accomplish anything significant.
But after reflecting on the conversation, for quite some time, it hit me. This guy calls himself a "millennial." He's 28 years old. He was born in the '80s. He was 13 freakin' years old at the turn of the century. HE. IS. NOT. A. MILLENNIAL.
Then I looked it up, and realized they're GENERATION Y. Not only are they useless, they've stolen the name of the generation that follows them. Generation X was bad enough. Boomers were at least TRYING to find themselves. Generation X NEVER found themselves, and Y was "just the generation after X." I don't blame them for wanting a different name, but they didn't have to steal it from their kids!
BACK TO MY POINT
But I digress ..., and now that I have hurt a sufficient number of feelings I will point out to the delicate snowflakes that it doesn't matter whether they're called Generation Y, or they call themselves millennial, or anything else for that matter. They don't exist.
As a "generation."
Boomer, X, Y, millennial, it's an artificial construct. First of all the boundaries are vague at best. Well, the start of the baby boom is pretty clear, but after that is a blur. When I first heard of the baby boom it had ended around '55; but, well..., maybe in '57 I was right at the end of it. My latest reading has it ending somewhere around '63 to '65. For the sake of demonstrating that it doesn't matter anyway, let's call it '65.
The "Baby Boom" ran from 1946 to 1965, twenty years, a generation.
So that means, obviously, that a person born in 1965 has more in common with someone born in 1946 than he does with someone born in 1966. More in common with someone born a thousand miles away and twenty years earlier than with someone a year younger next door. Makes perfect sense.
There are far better ways to assign periods of time. I have long argued that what I call "The Sixties" starts with the Kennedy assassination and ends with the Nixon Resignation. Now that's a period in history.
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Actually, today does mark the beginning of a new ... something. Let history tell us what. It's just a happy coincidence that I will set this to post on inauguration day, but I'll take it. Today will have more impact on more lives that January 1st, or the Winter Solstice, or any other annual commemoration.
Next week I may talk politics. Until then, you millennials get off my lawn.
** I ain't about to look it up.
Friday, December 30, 2016
Farewell 2016
In my last blog (Thanksgiving Day) I thanked God, in advance, for the return of civil discourse to American Politics. Of course a "return" implies that it was ever there in the first place. Let us not forget that only 212 years ago our third Vice President shot and killed our first Secretary of the Treasury in a duel.
In spite of that our political system has survived these two centuries plus. I look forward to being able to discuss politics with those with whom I disagree, particularly those smarter than I am. They should NOT be hard to find.
This is only my third post this year. So much for "back in the swing." I started writing the above intending to post it on December 2nd. I was going somewhere with that, but I guess I ain't gettin' there. I think it was to say that I may be posting more political stuff in the coming year. We'll see. I just hope to continue blogging. I've given up on writing anything worth reading. Even the self-deprecating "humor" is getting old.
Anyway, if I get this thing posted** it will be the Sixth Day of Christmas and the penultimate* day of the year. So 2016: GET OFF MY LAWN!
*Not to be obstreperous, but https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/penultimate.
**Okay, I didn't post it on time, but at least it's still Friday.