Note to Jeff Besos

I was watching Youtube videos of 'Undercover Boss". Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to go undercover to understand why so many Amazon employees despise their jobs, the inane micro-management, the lack of respect, etc.etc. I have known many valuable people who hate the company and who have left...or want to.

Seattle Mariners! What a joke!

Fifteen to one! Twenty-two ten! These guys are all millionioanires! What a freeking joke! At least they never receive a penny from me.

Ackley

Ackley got a hit? today (a bunt!) ??!!! He's right down there with Chone Figgins!

Good Neighbors...update

So...there was a water main break next door. I drove over there in my tractor to investigate, The neighbor guy comes over and asks me if it would be okay if he cuts the TALL grass in front of my fence. I tell him I ran out of money a long time ago...my weed-eater doesn;t work, the lawnmower is broken, and the roto-tiller don't start...everything I have is broken and I can't afford to fix anything. (This is the same neighbor who helped me fix my wind-downed fence...Good Neighbors Make Good Fences. ) I tell him it would be fine if he wants to cut the tall grass in front of my house...

So...I wake up from my first nap of the day and go outside to have a look at the Sunday crossword puzzle. I hear a machine out front and go out to have a look. There's a ten-year-old boy operating a weed-eater in my front yard. I have a brief chat with him and he says, "I can cut around  your mailbox if you like." I tell him to come have a look...my lawn is completely is overgrown, the gardens are toast and everything is broken. The young neighbor boy goes back to work...on MY front yard.

I have no idea whatever may have created such wonderful people but...I am thankful and humbled. There really are some good people in the world.

Update...

Alas! The young boy didn't know. He had asked me if he should cut around my mailbox. "Sure", I say.

My mailbox is in the middle of a small, enclosed garden with six, wild rose plants of differing colored blooms. They flower all spring, summer and fall. They're beautiful! Well, not any more. They've all been cut down to ground level. I planted all those roses about fifteen years ago and, some years, that's the only area of my gardens that I take care of.

The lad didn't know. I didn't tell him.

The other, more traditional, rose bushes I have in various places around the property grow to fruition every year no matter how much (or when) I trim them back. I'm keeping my finger crossed that the beautiful flowers in the little garden where my mailbox stands awkwardly by the street will rebound and I can dry the tears of potential loss.

My Duplex

So...I own this duplex in Yakima, WA. After more than two years, yesterday, I finally gets an offer from a potential buyer. It was a VERY low offer but I submitted a counter offer. The realtor says they want to sleep on my counter and I tells her I'd rather sleep on a feather bed. So's along comes this morning and I sends another email to my realtor, "So I gets up this morning and goes in the kitchen to make coffee...and right there, plain as day, was an old guy sleeping on my counter! All's I could do was work around him and leave him be." Hopefully, he'll wake up and realize I have a great counter. Almost everything I have is broken...the car, holes in the front porch, lawnmower (grass is out of hand), weed-eater (grass is out of hand), roto-tiller, chairs, etc., etc. I'd be able to fix everything if this old guy comes to his senses and recognizes a great counter when he sleeps on it!

Follow-up...The prospective buyer comes back with a counter-counter that was nearly pennies above the initial offer. I tells my realtor if they expect me to counter-counter-counter, the price goes WAY up instead of finding a compromise. I laughs and says the prospective buyer should go back to robbing stagecoaches rather than trying to steal from me. They calls back later in the day. The buyer's realtor wants to know I'd settle at $4,000 less than my initial counter offer. I ignores the question so far.

This is a property with rents below market and provides an excellent return-on-investmental ready. (Why sell? It's too far away and I can't take proper care of the place. Also, I need the money!)

Ultra- BORING DAVE SIMS!

Dave Sims seems to be the most boring announcer I've ever heard. I'd really be extremely pleased to never hear him again. I'd much rather listen to Ken Levine (of Cheers)! Why in the world would ANYONE pay him for his completely boring radio delivery?! Listen to Dave Sims, Rick Rizzs, Aaron Goldsmith...Dave Niehaus. Dave Sims sounds like he should be sitting at a keyboard rather than a microphone. It's downright embarrassing. He's every bit as boring as Ron Fairly (obvious) was. Of course, there were people who were fun to listen to because they sounded completely foolish...like Ken Griffey senior and others. How can it be so difficult to find competent, interesting announcers???? Announcers who don't speak with strange accents from other parts of the country and with a near-soprano voice...people who sound like they actually care about the event?

MLB

It's time to end inter-league play. Just a few weeks into the baseball season and the Seattle Mariners are already playing against their second, National League opponent. It's silly! It was an interesting venture in the beginning but it's gone completely too far!

Turkey

So...I was watching old clips and episodes of Family Feud on YouTube and I came across a British version. Of course, this is all with a British accent...
The host asks the guy...

"Something you would take to the beach..."
To everyone's amazement, he says, "turkey."
"Okay, something you would buy at the grocery..."
The guy smiles and says..."turkey."
Next..."Something you would stuff..."
Laughing now, the guy says..."turkey!"
The man has no answers at all for the next two questions and the host tells him he could win a two-week vacation in...Turkey!

Sometimes, just as I wake up in the morning, I think of that and before I even get up, I'm roaring with laughter in bed until I cry..."Tuhkey!" I think those mornings are the best...when I'm already laughing so hard before I push back the blankets!

So...I was thinking of additional questions to help the poor bloke...

"Name a kind of vulture..."
"Tuhkey".
What's a cold way to quit drinking?"
"Tuhkey!"
"Name a kind of trot..."
"Tuhkey."
"A kind of soup...
"Tuhkey."
"Okay, a kind of wild whiskey..."
"tuhkey."
"Now you're giving me agita...Name a kind of pot pie..."
Laughing again,"Tuhkey."
"Okay, a kind of bacon..."
"Tuhkey!"
"Oh my gods...a type of sandwich..."
"Tuhkey.'
"Meatball?"
"Tuhkey!"


...and so on...and so on...

So...I received a recipe for Chicken Pho (called Pho Ga). I thought I would have to substitute many items but when I was wondering, "If I substitute turkey for chicken, what do they call turkey pho? It can't be Pho Ga (that's chicken.)"

With all my research to date, the best translation I can come up with for turkey in Vietnamese is..."Tuhkey!"

Since I'm such a simple kind of person, maybe no one else may find this Family Feud clip to be so funny...but I do and laugh until I cry every time it crosses my mind.

raccoons

So’s I gets myselves a little place in the country. You know what I’m sayin. They ain’t no Nordstrom, no WalMart…no nuthin. I moves in and settles in.

In about a month, I hears a scrtatchin’at the front door. I goes to have a look. There’s a little raccoon lookin’ up at me with “help me” eyes. I looks at the beautiful little critter and thinks he could take off my finger without a thought. He be bleedin’ and his tail is sideways. He looks sad and needin’ help…blood all over the porch.

I thinks, “You ain’t commin’ in here1”

So’s I gets a bowl of water and some food and puts it out there for him. I talks real nice and tells him everything is gonna be fine.

My son, Baby Tommy, has this cat he was raisin’ since it wasn’t yet a cat. He takes it in the shower every day with him.

So… Baby Tommy is goin’ somewhere…”Can you take care of Hambone (the cat)”? I say, “Okay, but I don’t allow cats in the house.” I goes out and buys a “cat house” and puts it outside. I lines the inside with blankets and towels so’s it’s like a “cat-mansion’.

Back to the raccoon…

So the cat lives outside (most of the time) and I feeds it out there.  They is always cat food in the bowl. So, I be sittin’ out there, doin’ crosswords or…whatever…and over the fence...and up and over the railing of the porch comes this raccoon. It goes straight for the cat food. It sits there and eats (with his hands) all the cat food in the bowl. At that moment, I be sitting about three feet away. The cat (Hambone) be on top of the cat house. Hambone be swatting with all claws extended, smacking the raccoon on the head. Nothing! The raccoon reacted to the cat as if it was less than a gnat. No reaction. (This was BIG raccoon!) All this time, I just be sitting there.

With the food all gone, the raccoon looks at me, right there next to him. He looks up at me and takes a few steps my way…he sits down a foot away from where I be sitting. He looks at me and I finally realize he has no tail. This was the same young boy what came to my door so long ago.

In lateer visits, my raccoon friend came often, sitting right next to me. I never done took a chance to reach down and pat him on the head. As time passed, he brought his family…they all climbed the fences and ate grapes all night. When the entire family came on my deck and my friend sat by me….all the youngsters and the mother kept their distance.

Eventually, Baby Tommy brought Hambone home and, after a long and wonderful life, he wandered into the wilderness, never to be seen again. I don’t know what ever happened to my raccoon friend without no tail and have not seen raccoons around here for a long time.

Shaving

So, after 3 or 4 weeks, I goes in the bathroom to shave onaccounta I was lookin' pretty darn scruffy. I gets all lathered up with soap and begins the work. What a job! I gets finished, realizing there were still tufts of facial hair still evident...too bad. My razor was finished. I realized the razor blades have a usable life. It didn't matter if I shaved every day or every 3 or 4 weeks. The razor knows. If I shave every day, the razor does its thing. If I shave every 3  or 4 weeks, the razor has to catch up and still has 3 or 4 weeks of shaving to do. How odd!

Vaccines

So...I was reading a post on Facebook about four students contracting whooping cough, even though they had been inoculated. I gathered from the post that this was an indictment of vaccination. It's an extremely sad situation. Of course, while I'm saddened to read that anyone would contract whooping cough, this is certainly NOT the time to avoid numerous vaccinations.

When I was young, so very long ago, there were people suffering from the ravages of polio. Does anyone know why so few people have polio today? Polio vaccine! Does anyone know anyone with polio today? I think not. It's preventative vaccination.

IF you travel to a foreign country and you must get your "shots"... Do you know anyone suffering from malaria? I think not. Tetanus? Yellow fever? Diptheria?

My word! I could go on and on with examples of diseases that have been totally or virtually eliminated from the US.

Okay...about the four students suffering from whooping cough...I feel pain for the individuals and have no idea why the medication didn't take in their cases.

However, to indict vaccination, overall,  is a complete farce. When a person becomes ill, it's not a "higher power" that steps up and tends to things. It's modern medicine. Naturally, there are always advances to be made in research but the people making the efforts have devoted their entire, adult lives to studying and understanding the needs we humans have. They don't simply say we should take a pill or a shot, willy-nilly. They know. The eradication of so many diseases is hard evidence and we all have benefited as time has continued.

To eschew vaccinations is similar to declaring, "The world is Flat!"

(I'll get back to this...but it's potty time.)

Dancing with the Stars is a total Farce

Okay, I watched a bit of it last night and was appalled! A couple stepped out to perform an Argentine Tango. First, I don't think the music was appropriate and, second, they didn't do anything close to an Argentine Tango. Instead, they did some kind of acrobatic display. It was sheer crap! I suppose watching such a performance might be pleasant but DON'T CALL IT ANY KIND OF TANGO! Then, the judges gave them high marks and never mentioned their dance was nothing like an Argentine Tango!

What a farce!

I was told, maybe that was their interpretation of Argentine Tango. Bull! That's like speaking French and claiming that's one's interpretation of Italian. It's like hiking up a mountain and saying that's your interpretation of snow-boarding downhill. Argentine Tango is a specific art-form. You just can't do gymnastics and say it's Tango.

If that couple were to try that crap in the streets of Buenos Aires...while they might attract some attention...if they claimed to be doing a Tango, they'd be laughed all the way back to Hollywood. Do it right...or stay home.

So much for watching TV!

Denville

Denville’s Spring Parade!

Denville’s annual events have changed a lot over the years. I wonder if there’s anyone left who remembers the old, topless chicken races. Now, that was a great spectacle!

Each year, on parade day, Mr. Bush (who wasn’t so old way back then) would bring a truckload of chickens to town. We got all our eggs from Mr. Bush. He would sit in a darkened room of the barn and examine each egg with a “black light” to be sure it wasn’t fertile. He wasn’t always correct and, at times, we had tiny chicks in the pan. A few houses from Mr. Bush, on Norris Road, lived the Starks, then the Doremus family, then the Canaras. I lived on the hill across the road. It now backs up to the Tourne. Next, on my side of the street were the Schroeders, Reillys, Sullivans and a few other families whose names escape me at the moment. Everyone close to my age in the area was a girl. Much farther down the road, toward the golf course, lived Randy Norris. I always wondered if he came from some original "Norris" family. Later, he seems to have changed his name from "Randy" to "Lang'. The Swensons had a house, barn and horses across the valley and the Suks had their own land which they farmed. Apparently, the Bushes sold off all the farmland and it's now a series of streets with McMansions. I suppose the Suks farm is gone now, too. I guess they still have a "Farmers Market" on Norris Road but I can't imagine what farms might supply the market...since they're all gone from Denville.

Anyway, Mr. Bush brought lots of chickens to town each year for the festivities. He had a vintage old truck, maybe from the late forties. I suppose it was a marketing effort for him to make sure he was the main, local supplier of chickens and eggs in the area. There were other Bushes who farmed the Rockaway Valley. We used to go down the hill and pick (steal, I guess) peppers and tomatoes from the fields. We'd sit out there and just eat all day long!

Years later, we raided the fields, filled up the car trunk with cabbages, went to town and pelted the police station with them. On leaving, we all "mooned" the police as they came running out of their hive.

Sometimes, there would be a massive stack of cow and horse manure up against the Swensons' barn. We climbed up into the hayloft and jumped out into the pile of poop mixed with straw. Kewl! Oh...and sometimes there would be a gigantic load of pig manure dumped across the street from my house. (St Francis used to raise pigs.) So...I heads down the hill from the house, directly to the pile of grayish, goopy, incredibly stinky heap. I gets up a full head of steam and runs straight for the pile...dive in, head first..."sploosh!" I goes back and do it again...and again...all day! My word! The stink! (I was not allowed in the house for a long time afterwards.)

So…as the time for the topless race approached, Mr. Bush lopped off the heads of all the chickens! The sides of the streets were lined with make-shift fencing. Each chicken had a number stenciled on its side and people placed wagers on each "semi" bird. Then…they all were set free! Headless! They ran, aimlessly, into each other and into the fences on each side. Each time they hit a barrier, they would spin and change direction. It was hilarious! The idea (of course) was for one of the chickens to get to the end of the street first.

People screamed! “This way! Come on!” (The chickens couldn’t hear or see, since they had no heads.)

Mr. Bush was a shrewd dude. He always added a few turkeys to make the race more interesting. However, the turkeys always ended up, tangled in the mesh-fencing.

So…at the end of the topless (headless) race, the winning bird always was awarded to the mayor (Master of Ceremonies of the Parade.) They made a very special meal for him and (even though he wanted the bigger turkey to win), he was always pleased with his meal and always declared the day to be a "Fowl" success!

Also, at the end of the race, there was a HUGE vat of boiling water (almost as big as an oil drum ). In the vat were fresh carrots, onions, garlic, tomatoes, potatoes and such. All the children at hand participated in a “pluck-fest” and the headless chickens all ended up in the vat…a wonderful ending to a wonderful day!

I never did learn what happened to all the chicken heads. Maybe they just ended up in the stew…I don’t know.

In any case, they don’t have those races in Denville anymore. Instead, they just have boring Cub Scouts, Brownies, Little League baseball players and such…just marching through town. Big Deal!

I miss the “Chicken Events”! Those were the days when we all came together, united, and with a common hope for a bright future...alas! What's become of us?

The Bush and Suk farms are gone. There are TV and music stars living where I once picked (stole) vegetables. There's a forest park (The Tourne) occupying the hills where we hiked and my brother trapped various animals to sell the pelts. Is this progress? I think not. Of course, if one were to harken back to much older days...what would a person from that era think of what became of the area called Denville, long before my time? Time is, indeed, a relentless foe.

Seahawks disaster

SOMEONE HAS TO TAKE THE FALL FOR THE LAST OFFENSIVE CALL OF THE GAME. Darrell Bevell for calling the play? Pete Carrol for not over-ruling it? Russell Wilson (for not rejecting the play)? There stood Beast Mode (Marshawn Lynch), unused. He carried the team all year and is/was one of the most dominant forces in football. Yet, when it came down to the game winning play, Marshawn was left out. Someone has to be held accountable for this mess. The Seahawks could have run three of the same straight plays up the middle with Marshawn Lynch! He can't gain one yard in three plays?! I want Darrell Bevell gone right now. What a freeking joke!

Okay...a week has passed and I heard that the entire Patriots team and management voted to give a Super Bowl ring to Darrell Bevell. He certainly deserves it...but it seems a bit odd, eh? With a call to give the ball to Marshawn, he could have had a ring from his own team! It was a "no lose" situation for him. He gets a Super Bowl ring either way. He went with the percentages and chose to ignore the toughest runner in football. One can analyze all day long about how the Patriots played so well on that attempt. One can say it was the right call. It wasn't! Give the ball to "Beast Mode"! One yard! Three plays! One yard! The Bevell is in the details and Seattle comes up short.

You go to the Big Dance. You spend all your time with the guy who brought you there. You don't throw a pass to Ricky Ricardo. You lean on the guy who brought you there. ONE YARD! THREE PLAYS TO GET IT DONE!

It doesn't matter how many so-called experts claim the pass was the right call. It wasn't! It was time for maximum strength, Beast Mode, to win the game...but it didn't happen because Darrel Bevell wanted to play "cutesy" football instead of "real" football.

spey

Okay, this may seem silly but...the other morning when I was in town (Fall City, WA), I noticed a vehicle with several spey-casting rods mounted on the roof. They pulled into a parking lot next to the Roadhouse restaurant where they would have access to the Snoqualmie River for some prime, steelhead fishing. The problem?...The river was blown out...flooded. There was minor flooding on all the usual, local roads. I wasn't in a position to turn around to tell them it was not possible to fish that day, so I went home. Besides, the unfortunate fishermen would see that soon enough, anyway. I assume they came to Fall City from Redmond, Bellevue or Seattle.

(When I lived in the Portland, OR area, I always called ahead to find out if the Wilson River (in Tillamook) was fishable before making the long drive with my 18' drift boat in tow.)

So...if anyone wants to know the local, river conditions...all they have to do is call me.

No to Amazon!

So Amazon chooses Woody Allen to be involved with a TV series... Why not go for Bill Cosby too? Roman Polanski? Why not OJ Simpson? How about Ted Bundy? There's a long list of people Amazon can draw upon if they really want to dwell at rock bottom, some even still living.