These three idiots were caught in the Egyptian riots with Molotov cocktails in their backpacks. They admit taking part in the deadly riots but deny knowledge of these items.
After listening to their blathering about their vast life experience and how they feel about their own country I'm positive they were guilty of what they were accused of.
The knucklehead in the middle is an IU student I'm ashamed to say and he had tweeted that he wanted to renounce his US citizenship. When asked by local news media if this were true, he stated that he considered himself a citizen of the world.
It's funny, Luke Gates is so anti-American but look where he came running back to after he pissed himself up in front of the whole world. I would love to tell this dip shit " yes, you can renounce you US citizenship. I will even help you get the paper work together. No don't worry about us, I think we will somehow muddle through without you presence and your infinite wisdom."
I wonder how this child became such experts on world events at such a young age. Who imparted such wisdom on this lad? Was it his dumbass parents? Was it his dumbass college professors? Was it his dumbass friends?
Probably all the above.
He says he wants to go back to Egypt after the elections. Really? I hope you don't mind living under Sharia law. The Muslim Brotherhood has been a big player in all the uprisings of the Arab Spring and is expected to take 40% of the seats in the new government, with the other radical factions taking another 20%.
I hope this educated idiot can do some simple math and figure out how to add 40% + 20%.
Then take that sum and multiply it by all the evil psycho's in the Middle East that want to proselytize by the sword. When you convert to Islam, and you will, at the point of a gun, understand you will not be treated by them as an equal because they are hyper-racists.
Granted, Mubarak was a tyrant but he was the devil we knew. He kept the lid on radical Islam and had some semblance of peaceful relations with Israel.
The devil we don't know in Egypt is behind the curtain pulling the strings of the rioters.
The devil we don't know in Occupy Wall Street has one thing in common with the devil we don't know in Egypt.
They both blame America and the Jews for all their misery.
The other day Rita of An Ordinary Life had a great post from the 80’s sitcom WKRP in Cincinnati. That clip from the Thanksgiving themed episode where Mr. Carlson threw live turkeys out of a helicopter, as a station promotion is one of the all time greats.
I got a good laugh watching that clip several times on her blog and reading all the comments.
So here’s the thing, on my way home from work just less than 30 minutes ago, when I got to that exchange in the interstate, I saw a strange object just ahead sitting partially on the ramp. The synapse were firing in my brain trying to conjure some sort of recognition pattern in the object. I kept staring at the object as I got closer and closer and tried to make some sense out of what looked like a very haggard critter.
I finally got so close my brain could no longer deny what my eyes were clearly seeing.
It was a domestic turkey, not a frozen Butterball or even a thawed Butterball. It was a complete turkey, feet, feathers, neck, head and giblets all intact. And it was alive!
It was just sitting there facing the rush hour traffic as if it were waiting for some good Samaritan to stop and offer it a lift.
I know some may think of Indiana as one big cornfield, but it’s not all farmland out here, there was no farm anywhere close that this rogue bird could have escaped from. Judging from the looks of this guy he had been having a rough time.
Half of his white feathers were missing and he didn’t look too frisky. It looked like he had been in on the losing end of a pecking-party.
Other than someone re-enacting that scene from WKRP, I am hard pressed to offer a theory as to how the hell he got there and what his plan was.
Maybe there was an overage of turkeys and he was one of the lucky ones whose presence was not needed on some family’s table this year
.
Maybe last week, he figured the jig was up and jumped out of a turkey death camp transport truck and he was still on the lam.
It is possible some miscreant purposely ditched the poor bird on the interstate due to his apparent low quality.
However, I don’t believe this last theory has any merit, as there were no signs of fowl play.
1. Take one warm homemade yeast roll and slice it in half
2. Take a warm juicy slab of turkey a little larger then your roll
3. Slather a healthy portion of Miracle Whip on both sides of the roll
4. Plop the slab of turkey on the bottom of the roll which has now been transformed into a small bun
5. Put the top of the bun on
6.Now the finishing touch, butter the top of the warm bun
7. Enjoy!
Caution! You will need to repeat steps 1 through 7 several times until you start to feel sleepy.
I apologize in advance for this lengthy and ponderous blog. If at anytime you get sleepy trying to read it feel free to pull the eject handle and bail out. The main reason I started writing in the first place was the need to vent from time to time. Sometimes I feel the need to vent due to political or current events. Sometimes the venting comes from a more personal occurrence. This is one of those.
The last service call of the day had me heading many miles in the opposite direction from home, oh well, typical horseshit routing system. At least it's familiar territory. I used to have to go home this way when I lived this direction some 25 years ago.
That was another marriage, another me, another lifetime ago.
I looked at the customer's name on the computer and see that it's the same name as the road he lives on. Not really a coincidence out here in farm country. I drove through the little town of Monrovia on my way to the call, I remembered thinking "I'm only 20 minutes from home" when I used hit this town on the trip home way back when.
Back in those days I worked two jobs to save money for a house and kept up the part time construction work up until I started working for my current employer.
We finally saved up $12,500 dollars, a pretty good chunk of change back then. We found a beautiful 10 acres of wooded hills and valleys, selling price, $12,500 dollars.
Wiped the savings out and we got a mortgage for our house in the woods.
I had always wanted a place in the woods; this place had it all, huge mature trees, 80-foot ravines for boundaries, a creek in the back valley and no neighbors.
I put the septic and foundation in myself and got a nice manufactured house. I was in heaven.
I thought back to days of working in the noisy city, coming home and sitting on the swing and the only sound I could hear was the breeze moving from treetop to treetop. The difference in the ambient noise level from downtown Indy to my hideaway in the hills of Morgan County made the long drive home everyday worth every minute and every mile.
I drove through Monrovia and headed west closer to my to my former homestead now inhabited by strangers.
I made a few familiar turns and it was time to divert from the old route I had made a million times back in the old days, onto the road that was named for the farm family who homesteaded this ground.
I pulled into the gravel drive of the customer’s home.
He was an older gentleman who had left the work of feeding a nation to his sons and his son’s sons. I knew this would be a good work environment, a welcome change from working in the big city. Friendly conversation and discussing the area that I used to live in.
Then all too soon the appliance was repaired the conversation had run it's natural course and it was time to close out the last call of the day.
Talking to the old farmer about life way out here in Gods country made me remember my days out here.
Our first year out here, I put a wood stove in and we hardly ever ran the gas furnace. Cutting 14 or 15 ricks of wood every year was alot of work, but I did most of the cutting and splitting in the fall and winter. I used to love working in the woods when it was cold, the wood splits a lot easier too. I remember the first real cold day of each fall when I would start the first fire of the heating season and go outside to get another arm load of wood. The smell of that first fire gave me such a great feeling, winter was coming and back then that was my favorite time of the year. Now I just count down the weeks till it's over.
But back then, wintertime meant walking outside at night and the constellation of Orion seemed to take up the whole sky. If the full moon was at the right angle you could walk through the woods without a flashlight. It was putting up enough Christmas lights to make Clark Griswold green with envy. I put up all those lights to give my kids that Christmas magic feeling you got as a kid, well maybe it was to bring back a little of that magic to their dad too.
The summer nights the kids and me would get a blanket and lie out on the front yard and look at the Milky Way. It was so dark out there you could stare at a single spot and lose count of the stars. You could look for the blurry star that wasn't a star at all. It was an entire galaxy of billions of stars called M31.
Springtime brought out our white Dogwood and Redbud trees. Soon there would be a bounty of fresh morel mushrooms and a hillside of the sweetest little strawberries you ever ate.
I loved seeing my kids romp through the woods all year long. I built a barn and those kids just wanted to live in it. I put a wood stove in it and an old Westinghouse refrigerator and it kept my beer just above freezing temperature.
I remember the day I was standing at the sliding doors of the barn looking out at the house and our woods, watching the kids play in the yard and I was thinking, wow I have everything I ever wanted in the world, a family, nice place to live, two great kids and a steady job. I'm really content and happy in my life, finally! The next thought that came to my mind was. What's going to come along now and fuck it all up? I didn't know anything for sure right them, but there was a shit storm brewing and it was heading straight for me. In a little more than a year my marriage, my fortress of solitude, my happy family, it would all be gone and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
The transition from that life to the one I am currently enjoying was not an easy one. From being a family man for 17 years then jumping back into the pool at the age of 45 was shock to the system.
I finally settled into middle-aged bachelorhood and was enjoying single life until I met Jojo and she convinced me that I was full of it and I was not as happy as I thought I was and needed to take the plunge one more time. I am happy to say she was right. She restored my faith and trust in the fairer sex.
I pulled out of the retired farmers driveway and headed towards Herbemont Road. I came to the intersection and stopped much longer than necessary. I looked to the right, the direction I use to go from here to reach the place where I could let out a deep breath, go to the barn and get a cold barn beer, sit on the swing with my kids and talk about their day and mine, for 15 years that was home.
Just up ahead to the south was the section of road that's like a tunnel of trees. Some farmer planted oak trees close together on both sides of the road for about a quarter mile. From the looks of them he must have planted them fifty or sixty years ago. When I first moved out there I was working for IUPUI in Indy. I worked 3:30 till midnight. Sometimes I would save a little gas and ride the bike to work. Coming home I would hit the tree tunnel about 12:45 am. Something about hitting that stretch of road always made me want to crack the pipes open. I loved the look of those big oak trees zooming by and the sound of the exhaust pipes echoing against the them. When I blasted out the other side of the tree tunnel I knew I would be home in about ten minutes.
Later when I left that job and started running service calls that would end the nice bike rides home.
But the tree tunnel would still mark the beginning of the homestretch even in the service van.
All that used to be just a right turn and a ten-minute drive south.
An old Henley tune started playing, The End Of Innocence, the song I can’t listen to anymore.Thanks Don, your timing is great.
Actually the music wasn't coming from the radio, it was playing in my head, just like it always does when I think about the day when I had to tell my kids that I had to move out.
The memories of my former life and my kids hung like a cloud over me for a minute, then I turned left and headed north...towards home.
Saturdays visit to the Davidson Center For Space Exploration in Huntsville Alabama was very cool.
I have had a fascination with the Saturn V (five) rocket since Neil Armstrong made that first footprint in the moon dust. I was 14 and I just knew that in 10 or 20 years we would have people living up there on the moon.
The Davidson Space Museum is only about 2 years old, I have seen the Saturn V before but never displayed in such a way. In front of the building there is one standing up, all 363 feet. In the building it is displayed on it's side suspended about 20 feet overhead. It is segmented in an exploded view. I couldn't stop looking at this amazing antiquated technology.
My two level cervical spinal fusion did not serve me well as I strained looking up to take in every detail of the five first stage rocket motors. Then walking down to look at the second stage to see the smaller versions of five rocket motors then farther down to the third stage single engine then to the instrument ring then the service module and command module.
This was no mock up of a rocket, this was the real thing.
My cousins company built most of the instructional displays for the museum
as well at the mockup of the Orion module.
Shaver and Sharon and a guy who used to help light the "candles" and the Orion
There were volunteers walking around willing to talk to you about the displays and the Saturn V, they were retired engineers who used to work there and they would talk about the space program and what they did there as long as you wanted to stand there and listen. My cousin had long conversations with these guys, his father worked there for many years and it was interesting listening to them trading stories back and forth.
I'm sure his dad would be very proud to know that his son had built most of the displays for this place. My cousin Jim (Shaver as we have always called him) was our own personal tour guide and gave us a lot of interesting background on the displays and the history of the space center. I could have stayed there several more hours, I have always been an aircraft and spacecraft nut. It's a shame that NASA seems to have been co-opted by environmentalists political hacks.
At the far end of the building they had a moon rock on display and the actual Apollo 16 capsule.
The purpose of our trip to Huntsville was to see family, but this was a nice bonus getting to see a real Saturn V up close and personal.
Mom and Aunt Nancy
Many thanks to Aunt Nancy, Shaver, Sharon and Ethan for being such wonderful hosts. You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family. Sometimes if you’re lucky, you get to have the best of both worlds, family and friends all in one.
Ethan showing off his very cool 57' Studebaker to Mike
Sharon showin off her very cool little hotrod
Mom, me, Rita, Shaver, Mike, Helen under the engines of the ultimate hotrod
