Fathers Day and I find myself quite crabby, again. I don’t what it is about everyone talking about how great his or her Dad’s are. I have to Dad’s, a two timing bioDad and a stoic victim Dad who’d rather be right than anything else in the world. Truth be told I don’t for sure know if either one are still alive. One I’ll never know, don’t even know his name for sure. The other one I could know if I get up and make a phone call, but you know.. phone is across the room and I just popped a beer and after 10 years it would probably kill him if I did anyway.
From the local paper this morning-
Burnsville City Council Addresses Serious Issues Only-
Fed up with un-kept lawns, Burnsville City Council, aka Roundtable Of Ineptitude has passed a new series of code inspections. And now my head is exploding about this, let me quote from the paper:
“We really need to work on this, that we figure out a way to bring people into the understanding of what a community standard is,” Council Member Mary Sherry said.
“Plopped in there in between beautiful lawns are dandelion gardens and wild weeds where the seedlings are blowing into their yard,” said Council Member Dan Kealey. “It’s increasing the burden on the ones that are already taking care of their property to fight off the invasion of weed blossoms coming from next door.”
Did you catch that? Dandelions. The City of Burnsville, apparently having passed and enforced every other possible statute to ensure quality of living is now going all hard-assed on the scourge of the Suburban Carpet Lawn- the Dandelion. And we’re talking ‘bout leveraging The MAN.
Which frankly I think is about G-awd Damn Time. I live next door to a fellow who keeps an extraordinary dandelion garden, every spring his front yard is a magnificent carpet of stunning bright yellow flowers, resplendent against the deep green lawn, where you can see the lawn. Which turns into a sea of seed poofs looking for new lands to colonize. Since I’m like 500 feet away from the Burnsville line I, unfortunately will not be able to make weekly calls to the local constabulary to report what in all essence should be a code violation.
Alas to live in Burnsville, the forward thinking city council over there dropping millions into the empty Performing Arts Center, and maybe this how they’re going to make up that deficit?
On the other hand there’s more than a few older fellows I know from Masons who will be furious to learn that the city is going after their yellow flowers. One mans weed is another man’s home-made wine. Go figga.
I don’t know.. I don’t even know why you pass something like this when Lethal Injection drugs are getting so damned hard to come by.
Class Warfare Continues
So uh.. the worlds wealthiest man, Mr. Carlos Slim, the Mexican Telecom mogul, net worth a 900 trillion pesos, which in Mexico is a lot money apparently, this week made comments that we should boost the retirement age, WORLD WIDE, to 70. Really dude? Like I need another reason not to like him. Well if I knew more about him I’m sure I’d hate him big time, Peso hoarding dumbass.
He’s say’n 70 and I’m thinking 57. He thinks people are living longer, I’m think’n given his wealth probably. I’m hoping for 62 given my history of fat-assedness, poor diet, lack of exercise and self imposed anxiety stressors. I don’t wanna work when I’m 70 damned years old.
Then again, if you remove from me, the specter of financial ruin and leave me completely independent I just might keep working till I’m 70, not that my company will keep my that long.. but you know Wal-Mart Greeter seems to be a job that can’t be automated and if start practicing giving a shit about strangers you never know..
Hell I do know. Being nice to strangers, I just not in my arsenal of strengths. Back to Fire Spotter.
Blake Lake Report- Short Form
Hey- We spent a night at the lake place finally. That beautiful little castle of tranquility that sits empty weekend after weekend after weekend after weekend…. Friday night to noon Saturday. Better’n nuthin.
Actually it was way better than nuth’n because all the kids were there, from oldest to youngest and inbetween, and.. and.. they were all getting along and enjoying hanging out. I even got a game of cribbage out of ‘um.
Cherished moments to be sure. And since that’s the last weekend that we’ll all be together this summer, and with the days getting shorter here in a week.. It was a GREAT summer. Can’t wait ‘till next year.
Yeah. Sunshine in your rectum. It’s what I do.
Grad Parties and Lemonade Ass Whooping
Saturday we came home and attended a grad party, the reason for our short trip. The end of the Grad Party season is squarely in sight now. One more, next Sunday, then I’m done and not to soon, I can’t socialize with anther person for a while, it’e wearing me the heck out. We got to this one late, four hours late, or 11 minutes before the announced end of the deal, and once there I felt awkward. I hate to impose on people. Mrs S kept telling me not to worry about that fact that other than the grads family, who I should mention we don’t know, at all, we and another couple were the only ones there.
The Host however seemed amiable and uh, made me something called a Litzchky Lemonade to calm my frayed nerves.
I’m not sure exactly what’s in a Litzchky lemonade but uh..
I remember when I was in college we used to make the hurricanes with concentrated fruit punch mix, water, vodka and Everclear. Drunken Diabetic Coma, our specialty.
I remember more than one special date drinking a teacup of that stuff and suddenly changing their choice in the “do him or die” game from “Die” to “OK” words that I didn’t realize at the time, would forever mean “Lucky” to me.
I suppose it’s a good thing that I moved up from death, given the proper lens of grain alcohol. Those were the days, now that I’m near 50 I think fondly of a time when, given booze and a certain encouraging atmosphere, the hypothetical suggestion of congress with yours truly was better than instant experation. That BTW, is no longer the case.
These days I think the most I can hope for is “death by sudden onset severe nausea” which could occur at the mere suggestion of the same. Best not to bring it up.
Back to the lemonade I don’t know if it was the 24oz tumbler that did it, or the scorching 70 degree temps, but I’ll tell ya now, that lemonade was more than just refreshing. I think in the future a teacup of that stuff will suffice.
Finally, the US Open. I swear to G-awd, am I the only person left in America who remembers that Tiger Woods banged a gallery worth of bimbo’s behind the back of one the worlds most beautiful women and then lied like pig about it? I think watching him blow up at major after major is a nice view in the workings of the Universe. You get back what you put out there..
Which, when I think about it, puts me in deep deep peril.