Finally, I Found the Ideal Candidate

A little uneasy with the Obama administration? Not convinced the alternatives seen in the Republican debates will be anything but Pelosi lite?

I found the guy that can beat Obama, won't take any flak from the media, could care less if you call him names---if you dare, whose grades and history are as vague as the president's, and who is not a political insider. Even less a crony of billionaire market manipulators than Barack (but then I'm less a player in crony capitalism than the big O, but no matter).

Ladies and gentlemen I give you Mr. H. Heidelbergensis. Worried about the gay vote? His first name is Homo. I dare you to make a crack about that to his face. And I can tell you, he is plenty territorial enough to put a big dent in the industries which abuse the integrity of our borders.

It's time we had a no nonsense president who doesn't owe anyone anything, doesn't even comprehend the idea of pandering to special interest groups, and could care less if you see him naked.

A distant relative of Homo Sapiens--probably a namesake--he's got all the breeding he needs for this job.



You really want change? Let's get rid of these mamby pamby wannabes and put someone in who is neither beholding to special interests nor the academic and financial elitists.

Put him in the next debate and I dare them to ask loaded questions, cut him off before he's finished, or smirk at his answers.

I know what you are thinking, but you are wrong.
Sure they thought that's what they were electing when they let Arnold be governor of California. Arnold was a cheap imitation and caved to every boondoggle scheme and special interest in the book.

Homo is who Arnold wishes he was. Arnold was merely a moral midget in a Homo suit. This guy is the real deal.

Homo Heidelbergensis for president! Bringing us back to basics. Homo: Stickin' It To The Man

No logo yet, but I'm sure someone will come up with one when Mr. Heidelbergensis comes from behind in the polls, as I'm sure he will.

Cooking With Hermits; part 112011

Today's tip is for a good breakfast omelet which includes green food groups as well as white and some other colors. If I didn't know better I wouldn't think this was any good.

What you do is heat a large pan on your hotplate while you get everything ready. That is because your hotplate takes its sweet time when it comes to heating things. If you have an actual stove, you should probably just set it on low for now.

Get a bowl out and don't forget where you put it.

Grab a handful of raw spinach. Wash it off in cold water, and shake it out. Then lay it on your handy cutting board and chop it up into little bitty pieces with your sort of sharp big knife. If yu kind of clump it up and make it into a cylindrical mass you can do that chef thing of holding the point of the knife down and feed the spinach in as you rotate the blade down like a paper cutter. Go fast and keep your fingers out of the way.

Then you clump it up the other way and chop like a maniac. It ain't rocket science so I guess no more explanation is needed.

Poor some half and half or milk in the bowl. Throw in a glob or two of sour cream. Add a dash of Richard's Delicious Seasoning or some Howling Wolf seasoning. If you don't have any, let me know and for $50.00(US) I'll send you some. Or just toss in some of the GOOD salt, maybe a bit of garlic powder and spit in it.

Mix that stuff up, then dump all that spinach in. If it doesn't look like you have too much spinach for any of this to make sense, then you don't have a enough. Mix it up a bit.

Dump two extra large eggs or three regular eggs in the bowl with the green mass you created. Mix it up well. Beat that sucker until blended well.

Put some butter or oil in the pan, if you didn't already do that. If you have a regular stove up the heat to medium or medium high.

Oh yea, you should have cut a bunch of slices of cheddar cheese by now. Don't forget where you put them.

Empty the bowl into the pan and mess with the pan so the mixture spreads out over the whole thing. I think m pan is twelve or fourteen inches, not sure. Lay the cheese on, and if you like bacon, you should have cooked some by now to a bacony crisp so you could put that on there too. If you want to add tomato and whatever else, go ahead. I prefer the tomato slices raw and put on the plate uncooked. Do what pleases you.

Cover the pan with your big stainless bowl or a normal lid if you have such exotic cookware. Go ahead and make some coffee.

By the time you are done making coffee or setting that process in motion the omelet will almost be done. When the cheese is melted it should be about ready.

If you can fold over from two sides so that it is folded in thirds. You can fold it in half if you must.

If you were really hungry, you probably had some hash browns going too, or maybe some grits, possibly toast as well. Put the omelet and all that other stuff on the plate. Pour yourself some cafe Cubano and chow down.

You will catch yourself exclaiming, "Holy smoke, this is great!! Who would have thought that greenish mess would have been edible? John0 is a genius and he doesn't even eat meat. He deserves the Nobel Peace prize--and may be the first person in awhile who actually earned it!"

People rarely make war while enjoying a good breakfast.

This process doesn't take very long. I've been pleasantly surprised how quick it is, and I have the slow heating hot plate. Sometimes I let the stuff cook while I take a shower or do whatever so I never feel like I am waiting around for it to cook.

I found it works out even though I couldn't imagine how so much spinach in there could possibly yield a good result. Must be that sharp cheddar makes everything work.

Send me a large self addressed stamped envelope--one of those with the wing nut looking fasteners, along with $38.50, and I'll mail you a hot, fresh custom made omelet like the one described. Add your own bacon.

All The Ballistics Over Achieve

It would be easier on the ego if those of my natal family and their offspring were dimwits. The one who used to wear ultra baggy pants and wanted his grandma to spike her hair has now just finished restoring a 100 year old printing press to working order and is printing out wedding junk on it.

Possibly I won't be invited, depending on how private or remote this thing is. I was not advised of another wedding in that bunch but they had just a few people and went to the Virgin Islands somewhere. No doubt they thought I'd not "fit" and couldn't afford it anyway. The fact that both items are correct kind of hurts but I can't hold that against them. Just the way it is.

I saw a short video of the press in operation and it looks like a new machine. It must have an electric motor powering it, or else it is operated by treadle. It could be one of those things that hooked to a belt from a shaft driven by a water wheel, like early textile machinery. The video did not have that wide a view. I did see a belt and the thing was continually in motion. A page was laid on, the rollers got inked, then went over the plate--a reindeer in this case--then it pressed the page and a hand exchanged the printed page for a fresh one, quickly.

That house he managed to buy and refurbish has as many machines and products of the young engineer's efforts as a scene from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He's not as goofy or exuberant as Dick Van Dyke was in that, but he's a pretty cheerful sort in his way. Just don't cut across his yard.

When my nephews passed me up in lifetime achievements, income, and success of love life, it was hard to be as happy for them as I ought. Young punks. I taught them most of whatever they know. They were supposed to ignore the knowledge like I always have, then look back and say, "Uncle John0 was right. Guess he really is a genius".

It isn't going to go down like that. I take this as a sign that some people escape childhood with far less baggage than others. They are simply more stable than I have ever been. For that I am glad. I don't know of anyone in my family who could have survived what I have. I hope they take pity on me in later life.

That press is impressive. Oh, even I am groaning at that. But it is. A beautiful machine and looks like new from what I could see.

I always go through this thing of being sorry I'm not the big hero, or more than I am, when I know I will see my people soon. I do not think that is a healthy thing on my part. Most of what makes me more defective than the rest of them is not something I can change. The underachievement part could be changed and if I am to be honest I should just own it.

Kindergarten--Good or Evil?

In my case, I vote evil. You may not know this but I don't even think it was required when I was that age--younger than dirt. The kindertorture institutions were private, and apparently not expensive. My brother was spared the experience of kindergarten, and look how he turned out. (shining example of success, accomplishment, family and not really any stranger than I am. And not that much smarter--depending on how you measure smart, not any smarter)

The evil Mrs. Anderson was a kindly old woman on the surface, but in reality she was a nazi, man hating sadist. [maybe not nazi--it was Miami and most people like her treated everyone except Jewish kids like dirt]

Most of all she hated the truth, hated me I think, and loved the dogma only educational institutions and government could bring --at that time--the 'private sector' made great strides toward zealous enforcement of policy and rules which ignore context, morality and common sense over the years that followed. Much of it by government decree and example. But that's another story.

The big kids at the school, grades 1 through 3, had some good looking teachers who seemed to have better hobbies than pretending niceness while making the lives of misfits like me a living hell. Private school would have been a good fit for me, but I got shipped off to public school after Mrs Anderson's kindergarten weirdness.

I think the one and only thing I learned that year was that teachers were not necessarily to be trusted. And that truth was not the thing that sets you free when under the thumb at an educational facility. 1st grade landed me under one of Mrs Anderson's coven homeys, I think. Piece of work. It got better in subsequent years, sometimes.

Still, in my mind I figured it was me. I thought it was like with my father, something about me was just wrong and I could never guess on a given day what it was. It obviously changed and was rarely defined. Adults in authority were often mean and pissed off for reasons unknown. I was clueless, but inside I considered them cowards and never really believed I deserved any of their abuse.

At least I tried to hold to that throughout school, but I never did get how to play the game. That is why it was such a relief when I learned to make fake IDs at 15, and learned how to get beer and other alcohol.

I had to carry a hobo bundle on a stick. No fiddle for me

Foreshadowing is fine as a literary device, but I find it disconcerting to see it in one's own life history. Perhaps Mrs. Anderson was...THE DEVIL!!

She cast me as the lazy, no-account grasshopper in the play we put on--The Grasshopper and the Ants.

The goody goody kids were cast as industrious little ants, doing their goody goody work so they had plenty during winter or whatever it is. I should re-visit that grim tale. I actually did have to work at home. Those other kids didn't. It was an outrage.

I was like the lonely hobo outcast. The little goody goody collectivist bastards were all there together sitting around on stage. In I trod without a clue as to what was going on or why I was there. Was this type casting, was it a statement that at five years old I had been stamped the misfit who would be screwed forever for not being an ant?

My gut feeling is that Mrs Anderson was an evil witch and this play was part of a curse or spell she was casting on me, and that my father was in cahoots.

My mother went along like a nincompoop because she always deferred to her spouse at that time--best way to avoid listening to loud yelling. I think he was in on it because that is the only school or sporting event connected with me that he ever attended. I'm pretty sure he went along with witches and other evil doers because they'd give him pot or sex.

Guess he had more issues than I do, but I am naturally strong even though it may not be obvious. Stronger than most evil doers, and in some ways stronger than he was. In other ways he had some real gumption, though. Just not always put to optimal use.

I should have taken him under my wing at a young age. Didn't realize I probably could have pulled it off at the time. Too busy trying to figure out what it was they wanted to teach in school, and too busy second guessing myself because I couldn't make sense of authority and the culture of government institutions--schools.

Sometimes I feel as if I have been irresistibly compelled to be the grasshopper. The times I broke away required three times the effort the endeavor at hand actually required. I think it is the Mrs Anderson spell that I've been fighting all this time. Took me until now to put two and two together. I put some garlic powder on the popcorn and I bet that may have loosened the evil spirit's hold just enough for me to see a glimmer of the truth. Better late than never.

Now, how do we reverse this thing? Do I go find the final resting place of Mrs Anderson and use it for a urinal? I just do not know. Holy people will suggest I forgive her. OK, forgiven, but I still need to break the spell. This isn't about the late misanthropic teacher, it is about from now on in my life. Fulfilling my destiny and all that.

Let this be a lesson to you--if you leave your kid in the care of alleged educators, you better make sure they don't hate your kids even more than you do.

Did I Re-Review Sandpaper Already?

Too lazy to check.

3M, Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing Company--or so it used to officially be called--is a company that one would think makes things in Minnesota.

Their sandpaper is still the best I've found readily available. Home Depot has it. But it is not made in Minnesota or anywhere else in the USA. It is made in Canada. Maybe we can talk Canada into becoming a gigantic state. They might prefer to keep their independence from us, though. So that idea is probably never going to fly.

Wonder why they don't boot the queen. Oh well. They make great sandpaper. Maybe there is some advantage I can't see to them helping prop up Britain. We should all be good pals with the Brits, but being subjects of the queen or anyone is a creepy concept in my view. To each their own. I know diddly about the affairs of foreigners. Better for them to mind their business than for me to do it.

Doubt they really want to add us as a province, either. Pros and cons to everything. I don't know why we don't boot our own versions of royalty. It was never supposed to be monarchy lite. People want to serve a monarch or feudal lord. They just won't quit it.

The stuff at Ace Hardware just doesn't compare, especially the wet and dry. Gator, made in Finland by Finnies. It is OK, but if you have a choice get the 3M at home Depot or wherever else they sell it. Best bargain is the job pack. I've gone through a boat load of 220 grit, as well as 400 and 600 wet and dry.

I've also gone through the Ace excuse for sandpaper and it lasts about 64.7% as long, if that.

The other day I had reason to use sandpaper and I thought, Hey, you should again sing the praises of 3M's product, and ask why it isn't called Manitoba Mining and Manufacturing, since it is made somewhere up in Canuck land.

Did you know there are over 110,000 lakes in Manitoba? How do they have room for any housing except houseboats? I guess in winter they would be ice boats.

That's a place to watch--Canada may take the world by surprise and subjugate us all using high quality sandpaper. It will be a smooth transition ultimately. At least they almost speak American. Maybe more so than we do any more.

How to Handle Holidays

There are many ways to approach the festive season. First, one must determine his/her/its holiday goal.

If you want to fuel your anxiety, and raise your level of misery, then watch all the TV ads and insist to yourself that your life be just like the guy who gives the woman the 20k diamond bracelet, like the family who has a big fireplace in a stately home and whose members are all good looking, well dressed and smiley. Convince yourself you must shower all with gifts beyond your paygrade or you are admitting failure and the world will end. Once you have spent some weeks soaking up the ads, comparing yourself in a less than favorable light, spend the rest of the season getting rip roaring drunk, especially at inopportune times, like when your kids wake up on Christmas morning, or when it is time to stand up the tree and decorate it.

If you want to enjoy the season, then just hope you have the good sense to appreciate the friends and family you have, the cleverness to not lead them to expect gifts and bribes which you can't afford, and the sense to know that good people appreciate it when whatever they do for you is accepted graciously with sincere gratitude.

It is mostly a choice. If your kids are being raised by peers, public school and TV, you are probably screwed. Resign yourself to the fact that they will be disappointed and have no clue what you are talking about if you try to discuss what is real and what really matters. Too late. You should have raised the little munchkins yourself.

If you aren't married, it is often a great stress reliever to break up with the current squeeze prior to Thanksgiving. That way you don't have someone placing uncomfortable expectations upon you. Especially if it is a female who is fond of jewelry store commercials. Get a big poster which expresses outrage at blood diamonds, or something like that. My view is that diamonds and those who promote them are the devil. Nothing good can come of the path they push.

You know you have trained your loved ones well if you can give them each a gift wrapped raisin and they react with a smile and a hug, telling you how happy they are you could be with them for the holidays.

Believe it or not, I think I actually have come very close to achieving that. The last part. You could never get away with that if you have kids in the picture. Hmmm. Maybe some of this explains why I am single. Oh well, my blood pressure is low and I know what it is like to be with the wrong person, so single is by no means the worst condition one can experience.

This is going to be a great Christmas season. I can see it now.

Generations and Quality and I Don't Know

You hear all this "greatest generation" talk because, in England, they were tougher than nails while the Germans were bombing them to pieces, after they naively pretended that there was nothing to worry about. A little friendly diplomacy would do the trick and peace would reign from now on.

For our part, we managed to bail out England, France, plus others, and a bunch of Asian crap as well. I doubt we will ever know the exact 100% truth about any of it. People who read a lot of history often think they know it all, but judging from more recent events and twisted way it is viewed, I doubt the most elegant, leather bound, heavily footnoted tome is going to adequately explain how and why people are moved en masse to blow each other to bits in any given instance.

I've been skeptical when it comes to calling my father's generation "the greatest generation" because they are the ones who gave us baby boomers, the suburban culture of cheating husbands and wives, ideas like "driving is a privilege", a petty sense of status and false pride based on nonsense, did I mention that they produced the baby boomers?

But in their defense they still had remnants of the idea that quality matters, and that one should at least revere values like honesty (regardless of one's practice of such principles), hard work, inventiveness, respect for others, etc. Men shouldn't hit women, and you definitely weren't supposed to call them bitch, whore (before we gave in to the ignorant who think it is said and spelled Ho), brag about the number of baby mommas we have around town. Idiocy may have been practiced to some degree, but it wasn't revered by that bunch.

The baby boomers are the ones who made the worship of total nonsense an art form. It began pretty early on in the game and the parents of the boomers played enough of a role.

When you really think of it, what actual value, what crumb of constructive idea, thought or action did James Dean represent? A confused and spoiled teen ager full of angst? Who cares? But the greatest and the boomers turned depressing anxiety into genius and role model. I can't say I believe James was reasonably either. He was famous.

I'm not just picking on JD here. Just trying to make the point. Maybe it explains why you call up a place and get run through computerized madness, and the quality of service is no good at all. Here we have all the technology which is supposed to make providing products and services easier, more efficient, cheaper, better, and all it serves to do is depersonalize both customer and vendor, and results in bad experience.

People who can think past the normal expected view at any given time saw this coming. I'm not talking about those who think invention, flight, and birth control are evil. I'm talking about those who create, but see how good things get put to bad use. It is not the fault of computers that they've been used to place a barrier between consumer and supplier rather than enhance communication. They work great when it comes to buying, but beyond that they are the wall. It needn't be that way. It is a bastardized view of business and capitalism that leads to that. I've worked for those people. They don't know it can be done honestly. Shallow pricks.

It is not the fault of technology that those who seek to rule use it to take freedom while telling the gullible baby boomers and their offspring it will make them safe and cozy. People have suckered for lies and accepted that they need others to lead them for so long that they accept any garbage thrown their way, especially if they can maybe get a dollar out of it, or be classed as a potential victim. Brats.

It is typical of current and past generations whose hypocrisy has become a cultural lie that must be believed. Like the flower children--all peace and love, innocence and honesty. Hell no. Flower children were and are, for the most part, greedy little brats who supplied the most love and piece to whomever had the drugs, the cool van, etc. And they were no more non-violent in the long run than the occupy wallstreet crowd.

There was a kernel of creativity and sense which got lost in the process. The "movement" was peppered heavily with phonies. And idiocy was revered. I remember hearing people self-righteously proclaim in that stoner, semi-valley girl tone, "Eiu, mon, I dewnt rally doo logic. I'm more in to feeling and intooition, like y'knoo mon" WTF? Ever try to reason and make a point without logic and to someone who does "not do" logic?

Anyway. If you wonder why your company and other companies are always halfway dishonest, and why it is so hard to function otherwise, I would suggest it is because of the power the greatest generation and their lunatic offspring have had in the realm of governing, corrupting, and controlling that which should not have been theirs to pervert.

I hope this made no sense to you because I may be angry at something else.

Some products are actually better now. Mostly we are dealing with degrees of respect, and a growing acceptance of an elite class of rulers, bosses, "thinkers" who pretend to know best but don't have any right to even think about my best or worst interests.

Cars are actually better now, but they cost a bundle. And they've been, unnecessarily, designed so that diagnostic and other work can't be done by a normal person without sophisticated equipment. That's the respect part. Like potato chip bags which won't open right--they split down the side so all the chips go everywhere. What's that about?

Maybe it is because I saw a documentary about The Who, and realized what a prick Roger Daltrey is today, and probably always was. But a lot of those guys were total jerks in reality. Did good work on stage but best off locked in a trunk between shows because they're jerks.

The greatest generation is unknown, and non-existent. Maybe the ones who founded this country were our best. But they weren't perfect either. At least they didn't give birth to the baby boomer generation.

The Same Things Repeat

There have been times in my life when I yielded to the pleading or push of others to make a choice that I thought was not so good. It usually involved something which falls in the foggy zone of my understanding, generally in the category of something social. Often I think that I must be weird and I guess x or y is what normal people do, so I acquiesce. It never works out. Or almost never, can't recall everything so I'll leave it at 1 time in 100 that it works out.

Certain situations seem to arise again and again which have similar characteristics. You do it over and over until you get it right. Or so I thought. if you aren't careful, it will sneak up on you again even though you thought that lesson had been learned.

I should know better than to let such trouble surface. I do know better, but it is easy to ignore it under some conditions. Wish I could be more explicit, but I can't. Anyway, I'm on top of it and not going to let it happen.

In other news, I guess in not much more than a month I'll be riding down that long lonesome highway once again. If all goes well I'll arrive in the sunny Keys in time for the Buena Noche party--I think that's what they call it even though I thought it was supposed to be bueno noche. Who knows. Cuban Spanish. I doubt they can understand one another. If I was in school I'd be expelled for saying that. But I mean it in the best possible sense.

I look forward to being in the Keys, not much to being in Miami, which is going to be part of the deal. That is one hyperactive place, especially on the roads. And Florida is a boring drive from north to south.

Yikes, now I'm talking myself into not wanting to do the drive. I'll find ways to make it interesting, I'm sure.

Dear Self Proclaimed 99%

If you are blocking traffic, or preventing an area from being used for its normal purpose -playground, sidewalk, etc-you are infringing on the rights and mobility of others. That is force. It is not peaceful.

I must be in the 1%. Who knew? Those claiming to be the 99% absolutely do not speak for me. Most couldn't relate to me anyway--they have too much money.

Fix is In, I Guess

In response to some complaints that the various media outlets are effectively enforcing a near blackout on certain candidates during debates, we get responses like this:

“We are in the business of kicking candidates out of the race,” CNN host Howard Kurtz responded.

They have decided it is up to them to decide who has a chance and who should be given voice. An already closed shop is being closed off even more. Some candidates are barely given time enough to introduce themselves in these kangaroo debates while others are encouraged to blather on and on.

The arrogance of news media is beyond the pale. They sincerely believe it is up to them to shape and narrow the choices of the unwashed masses. But many people believe in a class of ruling elites. Obviously I do not.

The whole thing is a bit questionable.