So they offered us the Delectations of the Seven Resplendent Sovereigns if we switched from Time Warner to Verizon, plus which, they provide it (TV, Internet & Phone) by shooting friggin lasers out of their crowns or somesuch...how could we resist?

To celebrate our decision they came out before schedule (!) and accidentally cut all our wires which meant no TV or Internet for several days. But they made up for it by saying that they were sorry for the inconvenience. Not only that, but at one point the technician allowed that he was, indeed, very sorry. Don't you covet that kind of respect? That kind of deference is awesome. I rule.

I fear that, but I also fear the Gordian Knot behind our TV and all the internetz squirming through the Attic Of Unspeakable Wrath & Heat in the nonfiberously optical Chateau d'U.  Pretty soon our house will have just an antennae on the roof and everybody will just beam everything we want directly to us and we won't have to go outside or interact with people ever again! Won't that be cool? *hopes & dreamz*

But enough about me. You're the awesome one! You the one got it going on. You rule.

Certainly you're going to have a better weekend than me. I'm going to my nephew's high school graduation. I thought the major advantage of home-schooled nephews was that you didn't have to endure thrashings like pep rallies, banquets and graduations.  But no.  We get to hear an hours long presentation about how special each home-schooled kid is and what brilliant freakin futures they all have.

Plus which I have to go north of the Red River for the privilege!

I'll be where the wind comes sweeping down the plain, so you're better than me but I will be with better people than you will be at least.  I get to drive up there with my parents and my mother's sisters, The Beautified Aunts.  That'll be a fun trip, but, O the cost!

When I get back from the gradgeeation, I'm gonna pack up and go to Galveston for some days. That really will be fun.

So, even though you're gonna have a better weekend than me, don't go getting all uppity and braggin bout your high cotton, cause by Monday I'm going to be surfside and you'll still be wherever you are. So there

Love you

AU~out

Crying while watching this video isn't mentioned on the mancard so I may be risking it once again.  But I love this story!

*lip quivers* She's got the heart of a champion *sobs* 

AU~out

You don't come here for deep disturbing sociopolitical thought, I know, but I'm trying to work something out in my headbrain and I want to see what it is your headbrain is thinking.  Fair enough?

"Stereotype" is not a 4-letter word.  Even 'racial stereotypes' aren't always bad.  Some advertising agency notices that a product appeals to a certain race and so Schlitz Malt Liquor gets advertised in da hood and Budweiser gets advertised at the Indy 500.  Some advertising is designed to appeal to red state retirees and some to blue state urbanites.  That's just bidness.  Neither good nor bad.

Stereotypes are just superstitions.  They can be harmless or offensive.  "Walking under a ladder" is just stupid.  The more you do that, the more likely you will be injured.  If you refuse to walk under a ladder because of an ignorant superstition you are better off than someone that walks under ladders because they abhor superstitions.

So sometimes they are useful.  Most of the time they are not useful at all. And some times they can be downright offensive as well as wrong. For instance,  I have to dress a certain way because of where I look.  Many people look at the way I dress & walk and assume that I am some sort of wealthy, virile sexual dynamo with absurd bedroom skills and the truth is -  I only have $6.  Don't you see how offensive that is?

Seriously, I do not want to negatively stereotype a people group.  It is offensive, usually wrong, and ultimately useless.  I don't mind wasting time, but developing stereotypes is a horrible use of time.  This terrible war has me thinking about such things though.  I don't know how to fight people that will blow themselves up, heedless of collateral damage - sometimes to maximize collateral damage - just because they hate us.  The slaughter of good soldiers is a terrible cost of war.  The slaughter of innocents is unconscionable.

I don't think we have any business in Iraq or Iran.  Bush 41's Gulf war had a clear objective, and when it was met, in spite of criticism, he stopped.  Bush 43's Gulf war had/has a much more nebulous goal.  Hard to determine when we can leave.  Meanwhile depraved, evil al-Qaida deludes its minions and sends them out with bombs strapped to their chests.  How do we fight that?  I don't think we can or should.

Also, the association of al-Qaida to middle-eastern looking Islamics is hard to ignore.  It affects us over here in the United States.  Of course it is wrong to assume that a guy who looks Semitic, hates me and wants to blow me up.  Of course.  But how do I stop thinking that when every single suicide bomber that I've ever seen a picture of is a mid-eastern Islamic?

I know how.  Let em win.  Just leave their countries.  Leave their regions of the world.  M|go = Embargo those uncivilized terrorists.  Don't do bidness of any kind with ANY country that supports/houses/tolerates suicide bombers or the organizations like al-Qaida that manufacture them.  Let them eat and drink their oil and abandon. We will survive without their oil.  Life will be different. It will be uncomfortable.  But it is better than hate.

Is anybody with me?  Am I wrong?  If you don't want to answer, I understand.  You can anonymously click on this survey:

AU~out

Mercy!  When you live every minute of your life in constant, unrelenting, selfless, ceaseless service to others*, sometimes you feel like your Man Card is drained and needs to be recharged.  Hoo-ah.  Therefore, I shall leave this town shortly and head east.  Normally, things don't work out best for me when I'm east of I-45, but this weekend every year is an exception.  That's right.  It's time for the Men's Retreat.  Batten down the ladies room mateys, there be no one here but men.  Men. Men. Men. Hoo. Ah.

*[for cases where "others" = my wife, the sniper]

This really is a great time for me every year and I'm looking forward to it.  To mentally prepare myself, I watched a few episodes of The Rifleman.  Chuck Connors is nothing if not all man.  What better inspiration do we need?

I was hoping for something manly, like this scene from episode 2 written by none other than Sam Freakin Peckinpah.  After the death of his beloved wife, Lucas McCain and his son Mark have headed to their newly purchased ranch in New Mexico.  But lo!  There are unsavory ne'erdowells squatting on their land.  The unsavoriest of all, Mr. Jackford is contemplating a post-Civl War version of the hostile takeover, and Lucas Boy has some great, great lines.

Isn't that great?  "You can't buy it for money, marbles or chalk, Mr. Jackford"  What a great line.  You don't expect writing like that in a 1958 TV show.

Watching that kind of greatness is a great way to man up before the retreat.  Instead....what do I get but this drivel from episode 112.  Yeesh.  Mark decides it's time for him to have a job.  Even though he's paid a just allowance for all his chores, he gets it into his head to get a job outside the home so he can earn more money.  This causes Lucas to become quite annoyed.  Sometimes the chores don't get done on a timely basis.  Sometimes Mark falls asleep on his dinner plate from trying to do it all (work, chores, school & homework).  Lucas whines to Micah about how the boy is changing.

So instead of mowing down the godless and lawless with his 11-shot Winchester 1892, I get 26 minutes of Chuck Connor as June Cleaver. *rolls eyes*  These sappy, corny Rifleman episodes are the most predictable too.  5 minutes into the show I know that there's going to be 18 more minutes of father/son conflict over his job and in the last 2 minutes we'll find out the Real Reason Mark needs the money in the first place.  Of course!  He's saving money to buy a present for his dad.  Awwwww...gimme a break!  I wanna see some lead flying!

Sure enough, the last minute of the show, sappy Mark explains to his father that he's used his extra money to buy his father a saddle.  I'll admit that Johnny Crawford is a really fine, young actor in these shows.  I'm surprised, even, that he didn't act more afterwards.  So he delivers his jeepers creepers lines well.

But I sure didn't want to endure this drivel.  And I sure didn't want to cry like a baby every time I hear or think about Lucas telling his son that it must be "the shiniest saddle in the world."

Where'd I set that Man Card? It ain't revoked is it?

AU~out

Back in the day when I was a traveling salesman, I used to do some of my selling in a beauty shop right in the middle of nowhere but kind of close to the geographical center of Texas.  Caldwell, I think.

The owner of the beauty shop was a real friendly and beautiful woman.  She was a runner-up in a Mrs. Texas contest and you would believe it if you saw her.  She was delightful and charming as well.  As dreary as spending 3 or 4 hours selling photos in a beauty shop could be, it was made almost tolerable by spending the time with a charming and beautiful person.  Her husband was also a delightful person.  I can't speak to his looks naturally, but, as a couple, they weren't a horrible mismatch or anything. 

He would always make a point to come by while I was there and say howdy to me.  He would also say the same thing to me about my job, "Woooweee, you got some job!  Sitting around here lookin at purty women all day."  All you can do in a conversation like that is just shake your head and agree.  He's just wanting to be friendly and I would just respond as friendly as I could.  "Yeah, it sure is nice." Or somesuch.  What could I say? "Well really, you can't imagine the painful humiliation I feel in knowing that my children's comfort relies totally on whether or not these empty-headed rubes will like a photograph of themselves or not".

No. You can't say that. So you just nod and agree.

I wish I could remember his name, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was Jim Bob or something like that.  Billy Clyde. Fuzzy Ray.  Jim Tom. JD. RJ. You know.  It couldn't have been Steven or David.

Whatever his name was he would jaw with me for about an hour while I was trying to work.  I didn't mind it, because he really was a pleasant fellow and it killed the time.  But he had the oddest speech pattern.  Every other sentence would be some variation of "Boy howdy live" which was, of course, a shortened version of the full exclamation, "Boy howdy man alive".

So it would sound like this:

"Boy howdy live, you sure got some job here, don't you?  Boy howdy man alive, you just sit around looking at purty women all day.  Boy. Howdy. Live. Boy. Howdy. Man. Alive. Boy howdy live, this is some job you got. How was your drive down here?"

"It was nice.  I ran into a little rain around Waco, but it was fine"

"Boy howdy live.  That's hard drivin thru the rain.  Boy howdy man alive. I don't like it at all. It gets plum scary on 35 when it rains.  Boy howdy live, boy howdy man alive, boy howdy live."

*continues for the next 55 minutes*

So that's a picture of my favorite person, I guess.  He made inane conversation just a fascinating prospect.  How many times and in which variations would he exclaim, "Boy Howdy Man Alive".  There's got to be a name for that. I wonder what it is?  Where would that expression come from?  What does it mean? I don't have any answers but boy howdy man alive, I got some good memories.  What's your favorite expression crutch phrase?

AU~out