Thursday, July 28, 2011


"I spent 2 years in Iraq and I'm a war hero, but the National Guard says I can't get a security clearance and I'm not fit to carry a rifle? They wanted to make me a cook." Hank FM as we named him a couple of weeks ago continues,"that recruiter was just jealous of my record, I got 2 years in Iraq (yeah Hank we know) and I got 2 AIM's and (unintelligible) and a Good Conduct metal, (we called those metals "existence badges" when I was in) and I done more in 4 years then he's done in his whole life".
And so goes the early morning drunken monolog of the guy renting the lake house next to our lot. When I say early morning, I am not talking about your typical drunk hours of 3 or 4 AM. I am talking about a meth-fueled drunk from 5:30 AM to 8:30 AM.
As I sit in the front of our fishing cabin listening to this Fu***** Moron piss and moan to the whole lake, I watch our lake turning into a mud puddle. My dock that I built 2 weeks ago should be about 1 foot above the lake at it's highest mark, is now completely out of the water. I should have waited to build the damn thing; it would have been a hell of a lot easier to build it in the dry.

The reason for the lakes disappearing act has nothing to do with heat. It seem that the overflow at the damn dam has been comprised. Not sure how much lower it's going to drop, but I could still hear water gushing out before we left this morning.
I know it will have to get to its lowest level before it can be repaired and even after that it probably won't refill till next spring.
Back to Hank FM, apparently he thinks he is still in Iraq. Him and his buddies fill the serene country air with the smell of cordite and the sound of their AK's about every other weekend.
As I sat talking with a buddy that had come down with his wife, I could hear the unmistakable sound of multiple clips being loaded next door. Now don't get me wrong, I love guns and I am a second amendment guy, as a matter of fact when camping, I sleep with Jojo on one side and a locked and loaded Taurus 9mm on the other side. Having said that, the thought of a drunken Hank FM with a weapon of mass destruction in his hands is a bit disconcerting. Also it is against the covenants of the lake association.
So after several dozen rounds, a car drives up in front of our properties and some irate women who took exception to the lake being turned into Apocalypse Now, started screaming her head off saying that this was private property and shooting is against the covenants and the cops were on their way.
The funny thing was, she was looking down our way and my buddy said she was looking right at him! He got up and asked, "are you talking to me?” Before we could explain to the dumbass that we weren't the ones shooting, she hauled ass. All I had in my hands was a cold can of Coors and she could clearly hear the continuing gunfire to the south of us, the jackass was blaming us!
So I go into the woods hollering, "cease fire! Cease fire!" I told Hank about the irate lady, he said no problem and they ended their little war and all was quiet, for now. Later a local cop pays me a visit and I explained everything, he went over and talked to Hank FM and all was cool, the truce did not last however. After about 15 minutes the firefight resumed.
Later that night I was lamenting about the absence of our lake and our serenity. Jojo said, "its not that bad, they are good for entertainment, like watching Cops"
I got to thinking, they are just renting the place and this is not their home state. Hank FM doesn't work, so he can do that anywhere. Maybe they will go back from whence they came and that problem will go away. The lake will continue to ebb away and then it can be repaired and paradise will be restored.
If the association doesn't fix it, I will hit the drainpipe with 10 bags of concrete and plug the dam hole myself in the middle of the night.

I'll just go to the local hardware store and say, " hey, where can I get some dam concrete!"

P.S. after I wrote this blog, I got a letter from the Association. It informed me they were draining the lake to dredge it out. that would have been good information to have BEFORE I built the damn dock in the water. I will use the opportunity to make improvements after it all dries out since they won't be starting the work until fall, so I have plenty of time.

Sunday, July 24, 2011


 Monday, my birthday, will see me transitioning back to being a full-fledged technician. After over a year and a half and 4 surgeries and a shitload of physical therapy this beaten and battered 56-year-old goat will head into the home stretch of his adult working life.
I'm actually looking forward to it, there are still a ton of problems with our routing system, but they have dropped me out of the two most difficult divisions. I won't be doing HVAC or refrigeration anymore; I will be doing water treatment and that suits me just fine. Another nice touch is the schedule, no more working every third Saturday. That leaves the weekends free for me and Jojo to spend at the lake, hard to bitch about that.
After hearing my brother talk about all the new refrigerator nightmare repair headaches, I don't think I will miss working on them too much.
People who drop 25 hundred bucks on a fridge that is a piece of crap and cost a fortune to repair are not the nicest people to be around and its hard to blame them. After all I am the one who designed it, then manufactured it, then put a gun to their head and made them buy it, then snuck into their house and broke it, then I determined the price of the parts and labor and got to keep all the money.
On the other end of the spectrum you get to meet some really interesting people at times.

One thing I will miss, Frosty Friday's with my little buddy Gavin.
We have been watching him since he was 4 weeks old, we watch him for free because is the son of a dear friend of the family and we love him like he is blood. That kid loves sharing my Frosty with me. The other big thing I will miss is not being there during the day when Jojo starts watching our grandson Trenton. I can't spend enough time with that little fella.
Hopefully I will get some calls close to home and I can stop in for a 15 minute visit or a lunch break and see Gavin and Trenton. Hmmm I wonder if Trent would like sharing a Frosty with papaw?

Monday, July 11, 2011


The bitch got away with murder. That was the text I got from my daughter at 2:16 PM last Tuesday. I was at the physical therapists and had asked Nicole to text me the results of the Casey Anthony trial. I knew it would be a slam-dunk for 1st degree murder or at the very least 2nd degree.
When I read that text I felt like I got O.J.ed. Working only half days since my last surgery, I had been able to follow much of the trial. Due to the extreme decomposition there was not a lot of physical evidence; there was however an abundance of circumstantial evidence. There was much more than they had during the Scott Peterson trial and he is now on death row.
I'm not a lawyer and I don't even play one on TV, but I do know that in many cases circumstantial evidence is more powerful to a thinking jury than direct evidence.
Many convictions are obtained even without a body. Well they had much more than a body in this case and the slanderous defense should have done nothing more but invoke the ire of the twelve.
I guess the prosecution should have talked down to the jury and explained that this was real life, not CSI Miami. It was what the prosecution referred to as a "dry bones investigation" which leaves very little to go on as far as toxicology and certain causes of death clues.
Two possible scenarios for accidental death: Casey was using the trunk of her car and chloroform as a babysitter, she partied too hard and accidentally suffocated her little girl.

 The scenario that was offered by the defense: someone left the pool ladder down and Caylee escaped from the house and accidentally drowned.
 If either of these horrible accidents happened, the mother of a child lost in such a tragic manor would be grief stricken beyond imagination. She would be inconsolable and it would be inconceivable that she would go out and enter a hot body contest or get a belle vita tattoo or go about with a business as usual attitude.

I listened as some hack "grieving consultant" hired by the defense tried to explain away Casey's partying like it's 1999 after she killed her daughter. How anybody could have bought that line of bullshit excreted by that expert witness is beyond explanation.
These so called "expert witnesses" hired by the defense to muddy the waters and create confusion use junk science that would make Al Gore proud. My opinion of their profession can be summed up by some of the most accurate and profound lyrics ever recorded. Don Henley said it best in his song In The Garden Of Allah.
My thoughts about the "expert witnesses" and the reports of the defense team popping Champaign corks and high fives all around after this travesty of justice brought this verse to mind.

The devil speaks:
""Today I made and appearance downtown
I am an expert witness, because I say I am
And I said, 'Gentleman....and I use that word loosely...I will testify for you
I'm a gun for hire, I'm a saint, I'm a liar
Because there are no facts,there is no truth,just data to be manipulated
I can get you any result you like....what's it worth to ya?
Because there is no wrong, there is no right
And I sleep very well at night
No shame, no solution
No remorse, no retribution
Just people selling t-shirts
just opportunity to participate in this pathetic little circus
And winning, winning, winning' "

Monday, July 4, 2011


I took this picture in case the ass whipping escalated into undeniable child abuse. It was a tough call. I was on my way home from Nashville IN, I had been working on the fishing cabin and I stopped in Columbus to increase my carbon footprint. I was in a really good frame of mind, happy with the progress of the cabin and had spent a very peacful and relaxing night at the lake. As I approached the gas pump I heard and saw a young child getting his ass beat with a belt about 75 feet from me.
My jaw dropped as I counted the times the strip of leather raised up and came down with authority and crack against the helpless little tot. One.. Two ..three.......FOUR !
By that time I had my phone in hand trying to be judge and jury.
I hadn't seen a belt used for anything except holding up somebody's pants since the 60's. Flashback hit me big time and my ass was feeling every lick being delivered by that dad in the minivan.

Let me say that I am all for corporal punishment and I spanked both of my kids when the infraction warranted such. I just couldn't bring myself to use anything but my hand. I'm not saying my dad or the stranger in the parking lot was wrong for using the belt, I just felt like I needed to know how hard my child was being spanked. You just don't get that kind of feedback from a belt or a board. I knew that when my hand was stinging I had made my point.

I didn't want my anger to be the arbiter of the lesson to be delivered to my kids.
Before we became a nation of sue ers, many students were kept in line with the BOARD of education. I received many of those too!  Now the inmates are running the asylum and the kids have no fear or respect for the teacher.

Back to the present, or two days ago, I sat in my car and stared at that family to make sure dad didn't cross the line. An older man walked away from the scene and had a smoke. I took him for the grandfather; I figured maybe grampa just couldn't take seeing his grand kid get his butt beat.
I filled up my tank, making it obvious that I was staring at the family in the minivan and glancing at grampa from time to time. As I got back in my Jimmy all seemed to be in order in the next parking lot, as I swung my car around I took one last look at the dejected old man and thought of my two week old grandson.  Now that I am in the grampa club, my views on even spanking a child might be subject to review.
You hear that Nicole? Don't you dare spank that child!