These two turkeys appeared near my office. So as usual, I put on my snowshoes and headed out after them. They had beautiful plummage. I hope you enjoy the picture as much as I did taking it.Copyright 2007 E.Jett
Monday, February 12, 2007
Turkeys in the Snow
These two turkeys appeared near my office. So as usual, I put on my snowshoes and headed out after them. They had beautiful plummage. I hope you enjoy the picture as much as I did taking it.Copyright 2007 E.Jett
Coons 1-Wildlife Control 0
Yep, those coons are smart. Our wildlife control people are PROFESSIONALS. We know it must be true because it says so on their business card.
The coons however could care less. They refuse to give us their business cards and they could careless if you are professional.
Three days of clever traps. Thus far the coons have avoided all traps. One trap blocked their entrance and they dismantled the trap and returned to the attic.
The score thus far is Coons 1 and Wildlife Professionals 0.
Then their is the bait in the trap. A little bit of old corn. Who wants it? Now some nice strawberry preserves or a half eaten hamburger from Sonic, now that would be a treat. If I were a coon, I can tell you that I would take no chances for a bit of half eaten, stale corn.
Thus far, apparently the coons agree with my taste.
HarleyDad
The coons however could care less. They refuse to give us their business cards and they could careless if you are professional.
Three days of clever traps. Thus far the coons have avoided all traps. One trap blocked their entrance and they dismantled the trap and returned to the attic.
The score thus far is Coons 1 and Wildlife Professionals 0.
Then their is the bait in the trap. A little bit of old corn. Who wants it? Now some nice strawberry preserves or a half eaten hamburger from Sonic, now that would be a treat. If I were a coon, I can tell you that I would take no chances for a bit of half eaten, stale corn.
Thus far, apparently the coons agree with my taste.
HarleyDad
Friday, February 09, 2007
Ya Got Coons!
Ya Got Coons
“Ya Got Coons,” the animal control person says. “Bad news,” I thought, “Really, bad news”. Yeah, we had been through this before. Having coons is worse than having fleas or the kids having lice in the hair.
Racoons look like a sweet woodland creature on the cartoons. They aren’t. And with the last cold snap that we had in Ozarklandia, a family of coons decided that they would come live with us. Coons never ask permission, they just move in like trailer-trash relatives that are ready to have you support them forever. You provide and they take. And move in they did. They pulled out a small board on the facing of the roof and wiggled through.
No invitations needed nor expected. They made an opening and in they marched. “Where is the food,” they yelled.
They announce their arrival by cavorting in the attic. They can’t just move in and be good neighbors. No , when they move in the house is theirs. They poop in your attic and wake you up at night. They are nocturnal animals and at night when good folk are sleeping, they like to cut up, wrestle with one another, go out for late night snacks or order in a pizza.
They are social beasts. When one comes in there is always more. They bring their families and other relatives . The more coons the merrier. They go in out of your attic through their little doors all hours of the night. They party with no apologies to you and then zonk out in the daytime and pretend that nothing happened and they aren’t there.
However, they don’t move out and they don’t go away. At least not voluntarily.
Your home is their home. This quickly morphs to it quickly being their home and their house and you get the hindmost and can move out as far as they are concerned. They believe that possession is nine-tenths of the law. And believe me, when I say that our house has been possessed by coons.
They tear up your insulation, chew through your wires, eat through the wood, unhook the heating and cooling and generally create havoc wherever they go. They are not your friends but your enemy.
It is you and and your family or they and their family. Period. The end. And so that’s why we called a professional gun slinger. Our town had been possessed by the bad guys and we want them to be run out of town. Coons don’t negotiate. They only understand one thing. It is you or them. They don’t care what the law is. “ Law is for people folk not coons”, they say. They laugh at court orders of ejectment. They only understand brute force.
Yes, coons are bandits. They don’t wear that little mask around their eyes to be cute. They are thieves and they obey no laws other than coon laws which you and I do not understand but are for coons alone. They take what they want when they want it. And the coons had laid claim to our house.
Well, Harley dad has seen these varmints before. And they are not welcome here. You like them and want them. Well, my advice you is come get them. You can have ‘em. Free. Just get your bleedin’ heart down to Ozarklandia and I will fill up your car with coons and you can take them back to wherever you came from.
Not not too much is written by theologians about coons. I guess if you are at a University or a high-falootin’ school of theology, coons are not what immediately come to your mind. However, after seeing a group of coons move in take over the house, laugh at the family and terrorize the dog and the cat, you begin to view them less from a philosophical perspective and more from a theological perspective.
Coons must be little agents of the devil, after all they come to “steal, kill and destroy.” Well perhaps that may be goings a little far; but you can say that the house is possessed by coons. And HarleyDad is calling upon some professional exorcisers to kick those critters out.
Jesus told the story about how one man was delivered from demons and got his house all organized and cleaned out and seven more demons came in worse than the first. It makes you wonder if Jesus had seen a group of coons try to move in before. That is the way coons act. If you get rid of them and don’t close up the hole in the roof (every hole in the roof), they bring their friends and move back in in and make your attic their home, and the new group is worse than the first.
Yeah, and that is just the way sin is. Sin in the Greek is harmatia or something like that. I hear it means missing the mark, a falling short of God’s standard and plan. We all miss this standard and we all need the grace of God.
Coons are like little sins. You think your house is tight and in order. But they slip in during the night through some little crack. Perhaps through something you saw or heard or felt. And once sin is there in your attic, it moves it to stay. It whispers sweet words that it will coexist with the rest of your life. But sin lies. It parties all night. It grows bigger and nastier. Your house is its house, your possessions its possessions. Little venial critters grow into big mortal critter sins. And if they get big enough they may try to take over the house and kick you out. Sins are like coons, they try to bully the rightful owners of the house.
I suspect that is why Jesus took a hard-line view of sin. He knew that sin was like them coons that moved in. Jesus said “If your hand offends you, cut it off. If your eye offends you cast it out. It is better to enter into the kingdom of heaven maimed than to be whole and not enter it at all. “ At least I think he said somethin’ like that. Jesus did not believe that you could work out a deal or compromise with the devil or with sin. And, I would add that you can’t do it with coons either.
So Coons, enjoy yourselves. Because your days are numbered. You aren’t welcome here! We are going to kick your little coon butts right outa here.
And that is the theological view of coons, I guarantee.
HarleyDad
“Ya Got Coons,” the animal control person says. “Bad news,” I thought, “Really, bad news”. Yeah, we had been through this before. Having coons is worse than having fleas or the kids having lice in the hair.
Racoons look like a sweet woodland creature on the cartoons. They aren’t. And with the last cold snap that we had in Ozarklandia, a family of coons decided that they would come live with us. Coons never ask permission, they just move in like trailer-trash relatives that are ready to have you support them forever. You provide and they take. And move in they did. They pulled out a small board on the facing of the roof and wiggled through.
No invitations needed nor expected. They made an opening and in they marched. “Where is the food,” they yelled.
They announce their arrival by cavorting in the attic. They can’t just move in and be good neighbors. No , when they move in the house is theirs. They poop in your attic and wake you up at night. They are nocturnal animals and at night when good folk are sleeping, they like to cut up, wrestle with one another, go out for late night snacks or order in a pizza.
They are social beasts. When one comes in there is always more. They bring their families and other relatives . The more coons the merrier. They go in out of your attic through their little doors all hours of the night. They party with no apologies to you and then zonk out in the daytime and pretend that nothing happened and they aren’t there.
However, they don’t move out and they don’t go away. At least not voluntarily.
Your home is their home. This quickly morphs to it quickly being their home and their house and you get the hindmost and can move out as far as they are concerned. They believe that possession is nine-tenths of the law. And believe me, when I say that our house has been possessed by coons.
They tear up your insulation, chew through your wires, eat through the wood, unhook the heating and cooling and generally create havoc wherever they go. They are not your friends but your enemy.
It is you and and your family or they and their family. Period. The end. And so that’s why we called a professional gun slinger. Our town had been possessed by the bad guys and we want them to be run out of town. Coons don’t negotiate. They only understand one thing. It is you or them. They don’t care what the law is. “ Law is for people folk not coons”, they say. They laugh at court orders of ejectment. They only understand brute force.
Yes, coons are bandits. They don’t wear that little mask around their eyes to be cute. They are thieves and they obey no laws other than coon laws which you and I do not understand but are for coons alone. They take what they want when they want it. And the coons had laid claim to our house.
Well, Harley dad has seen these varmints before. And they are not welcome here. You like them and want them. Well, my advice you is come get them. You can have ‘em. Free. Just get your bleedin’ heart down to Ozarklandia and I will fill up your car with coons and you can take them back to wherever you came from.
Not not too much is written by theologians about coons. I guess if you are at a University or a high-falootin’ school of theology, coons are not what immediately come to your mind. However, after seeing a group of coons move in take over the house, laugh at the family and terrorize the dog and the cat, you begin to view them less from a philosophical perspective and more from a theological perspective.
Coons must be little agents of the devil, after all they come to “steal, kill and destroy.” Well perhaps that may be goings a little far; but you can say that the house is possessed by coons. And HarleyDad is calling upon some professional exorcisers to kick those critters out.
Jesus told the story about how one man was delivered from demons and got his house all organized and cleaned out and seven more demons came in worse than the first. It makes you wonder if Jesus had seen a group of coons try to move in before. That is the way coons act. If you get rid of them and don’t close up the hole in the roof (every hole in the roof), they bring their friends and move back in in and make your attic their home, and the new group is worse than the first.
Yeah, and that is just the way sin is. Sin in the Greek is harmatia or something like that. I hear it means missing the mark, a falling short of God’s standard and plan. We all miss this standard and we all need the grace of God.
Coons are like little sins. You think your house is tight and in order. But they slip in during the night through some little crack. Perhaps through something you saw or heard or felt. And once sin is there in your attic, it moves it to stay. It whispers sweet words that it will coexist with the rest of your life. But sin lies. It parties all night. It grows bigger and nastier. Your house is its house, your possessions its possessions. Little venial critters grow into big mortal critter sins. And if they get big enough they may try to take over the house and kick you out. Sins are like coons, they try to bully the rightful owners of the house.
I suspect that is why Jesus took a hard-line view of sin. He knew that sin was like them coons that moved in. Jesus said “If your hand offends you, cut it off. If your eye offends you cast it out. It is better to enter into the kingdom of heaven maimed than to be whole and not enter it at all. “ At least I think he said somethin’ like that. Jesus did not believe that you could work out a deal or compromise with the devil or with sin. And, I would add that you can’t do it with coons either.
So Coons, enjoy yourselves. Because your days are numbered. You aren’t welcome here! We are going to kick your little coon butts right outa here.
And that is the theological view of coons, I guarantee.
HarleyDad
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
The Doctor Goes to Work
Have great fear insects. You are not safe when this guy is around. Ozarkian woodpecker working hard to support his family. Copyright 2007 E. JettOzarkian Peckerwood
Some also call them woodpeckers. This bird is a typical of the area. A little snow does not bother him. He goes straight to work looking for insects. My dentist uses one of these little fellows to clean teeth. I recently changed my dentist by the way. Copyright E.Jett 2007Cardinal of Ozarklandia
Copyright 2007 E.Jett
This cardinal is in charge of his area. He is an officer of the avian church. His ruby feathers boldly proclaim that he is proud of who he is. He does not deign to blind into his surroundings but proudly makes a statement of who he is. 
This cardinal is in charge of his area. He is an officer of the avian church. His ruby feathers boldly proclaim that he is proud of who he is. He does not deign to blind into his surroundings but proudly makes a statement of who he is. Hawk in Ozarklandia
This small hawk has a territory. It is his and woe be to those who enter into it.Copyright 2007 E.Jett
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Cardinal in Snow
Copyright E. Jett 2007This cardinal has fluffed himself up in order to stay warm during a snowstorm.
Air under the feathers is warmed by the bird's body heat.
The weather continues cold in Ozarklandia. People compensated for not having fur or feathers by using down comforters.
God, however, has seen that birds of the field carry their down comforters with them as they fly.
HarleyDad
Friday, January 26, 2007
Deer Framed by Woods
Deer lying in snow and hiding from the ubiqitous HarleyDad. HarleyDad armed with his camera fearlessly hunted down deer and took picture with no regard for his own safety or life. Deer in Ozarklandia
Deer along side Ozarklandia back road. Warning it is hunting season, the deer may be armed and dangerous. Train Over Missouri Bridge
I hear a train comin'
It's comin' down the tracks
(Picture dedicated to Josh
who sings the Folsom Prison Blues)
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Winter Storm Apologies
Sunday, a week ago, Ozarklandia was hit by a winter storm. We lost power for three days. HarleyDad, Brokerbelle and Shan Tora became a pioneer family. We went searching for wood and cut it out of blocks of ice. We had about two plus inches of ice.
We went through various trials and tribulations including weather in the 8 to 12 degree fahrenheit area, a garage door that got stuck open, a truck that died, snow under our roof etc. etc.
Yet for all that we were very fortunate. After two days of camping out, we checked into one of the local hotels (the seventh one we called that day).
Many people remain without power. We have returned to normal except for that nagging feeling that perhaps this was preparation for the "big one."
Down comforters are good. So are candles, batteries, propane, food that does not need to be cooked, wood and fireplaces. Matches and kindling are great.
TV's, movies, video games, computers are all nice, but are not necessary.
Of course, no computers meant no blogs. Sorry. I did however snap a few pictures even without power. It is great to have a digital camera that is a wind up.
People began talking to one another again. We told ghost stories and would have roasted marshmellows had we had any. Yeah, we need marshmellows next time.
HarleyDad
We went through various trials and tribulations including weather in the 8 to 12 degree fahrenheit area, a garage door that got stuck open, a truck that died, snow under our roof etc. etc.
Yet for all that we were very fortunate. After two days of camping out, we checked into one of the local hotels (the seventh one we called that day).
Many people remain without power. We have returned to normal except for that nagging feeling that perhaps this was preparation for the "big one."
Down comforters are good. So are candles, batteries, propane, food that does not need to be cooked, wood and fireplaces. Matches and kindling are great.
TV's, movies, video games, computers are all nice, but are not necessary.
Of course, no computers meant no blogs. Sorry. I did however snap a few pictures even without power. It is great to have a digital camera that is a wind up.
People began talking to one another again. We told ghost stories and would have roasted marshmellows had we had any. Yeah, we need marshmellows next time.
HarleyDad
Pink Ice
The ice was cold on the lake; however it was gently kissed by the sun leaving a lovely pink blush as the evening arrived. It was almost as though there were an apology to the geese for all the bad weather that they had endured.Copyright E.Jett 2007
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Friday, January 12, 2007
Tay Does the Bunny
Tay is doing the "Bunny". I don't think there is any hidden meaning here. However, perhaps Ms. Millenium is trying to be a Playboy Bunny.At any rate the Bunny song was my favorite song.
Tay's Friends
Tay's Friends are tied up with their performances and are unable to speak to Tay right now.
You Are In Town
My daughter, the ImpQueen and granddaughter, TayBelle a.k.a. ChristmasBelle, decided that it was time to move HarleyDad’s cultural level up a notch. For that reason HarleyDad and Brokerbelle were invited to see TayBelle in a play called “You Are In Town.”
“You Are In Town” was evidently a play where TayBelle had a key role. HarleyDad responded that he was a rich guy and could buy TayBelle a whole box of donuts and she would not have to be satisfied by just one puny old sweet roll. Neither ImpQeen nor TayBelle were amused and ImpQueen explained that TayBelle was a thespian. HarleyDad responded grumpily that even though he respected different sexual persuasions, he did not really think his granddaughter was a thespian because he knew she had several boyfriends.
By then ImpQueen had had it. In exasperation she exclaimed “ACTING, DADDY, ACTING.” Now that ImpQueen explained it in terms of Saturday Night Live , HarleyDad got it. “Yeah, I understand” HarleyDad said. I am not an uneducated man. I attended Baylor Barber College of Knowledge down in Waco, Texas. I know these things. You mean my daughter is a “Drama Mama.” She is an actresses doing plays on stages, street plays etc, like a “Drag Queen.” “Well , almost” replied the ImpQueen she does get dressed up in this play and her role is Ms. Millenium.
Being educated in these matters, it was with some excitement that Brokerbelle and I traveled out of Ozarklandia to another part of the state to see our granddaughter strut her stuff, oops, I mean perform.
I was excited to see “You Are In Town” which I surmised was written by Thorntown Wilder and was a sequel to “Our Town.”
Well we got there and was I ever pissed off. My granddaughter evidently was a star in an All-Star Musical called Urinetown. Urinetown is a Broadway musical about a town where you had to pay to urinate (down here in Ozarklandia we just say “pee”). Broadway is a place somewhere around New York City where people are all teed off at one another and even piss in the streets to express their courage and individuality.
My how things have changed since HarleyDad was a boy. We didn’t talk about things that people did with that part of the anatomy. But now I guess privates aren’t private any more. They are “publics” and plays are written about them and high school students that shouldn’t be peein’ at all are playing roles about it and getting honors and awards.
If you want to be uppity and edicated and all advanced, then I guess you can go to the website for Urinetown. You can find it at http://www.urinetown.com/flash/index.html
They don’t show very many dirty pictures so they aren’t pornography (which is defined as photography without clothing) or nothing like that .
Well it was a long play and drizzling outside, so HarleyDad had to keep excusing himself and running off to the little boys room where thankfully the students were not selling programs, tee-shirts that said “ I was pissed off at Urinetown”, piss pots or Urinetown coffee mugs. But enough of bathroom humor. Evidently the play was a rousing success and everybody enjoyed it. TayBelle played a magnificent role.
HarleyDad however explained to ImpQueen and Taybelle that he had attended uppity plays before and new fangled method acting. He knew what the Theatre of the Absurd was and he had attended such wonderful musicals before such as “Hair” which really wasn’t about hair but was about mooning the audience, so HarleyDad knew good acting when he had seen it. And by the way, TayBelle was a good actress, but still the mime was a terrible thing to waste.
All that being said HarleyDad returned to his pick-up truck whistling “The Age of Aquarius”, and he and Brokerbelle returned to Ozarklandia where he was safe from noveau art once again.
“You Are In Town” was evidently a play where TayBelle had a key role. HarleyDad responded that he was a rich guy and could buy TayBelle a whole box of donuts and she would not have to be satisfied by just one puny old sweet roll. Neither ImpQeen nor TayBelle were amused and ImpQueen explained that TayBelle was a thespian. HarleyDad responded grumpily that even though he respected different sexual persuasions, he did not really think his granddaughter was a thespian because he knew she had several boyfriends.
By then ImpQueen had had it. In exasperation she exclaimed “ACTING, DADDY, ACTING.” Now that ImpQueen explained it in terms of Saturday Night Live , HarleyDad got it. “Yeah, I understand” HarleyDad said. I am not an uneducated man. I attended Baylor Barber College of Knowledge down in Waco, Texas. I know these things. You mean my daughter is a “Drama Mama.” She is an actresses doing plays on stages, street plays etc, like a “Drag Queen.” “Well , almost” replied the ImpQueen she does get dressed up in this play and her role is Ms. Millenium.
Being educated in these matters, it was with some excitement that Brokerbelle and I traveled out of Ozarklandia to another part of the state to see our granddaughter strut her stuff, oops, I mean perform.
I was excited to see “You Are In Town” which I surmised was written by Thorntown Wilder and was a sequel to “Our Town.”
Well we got there and was I ever pissed off. My granddaughter evidently was a star in an All-Star Musical called Urinetown. Urinetown is a Broadway musical about a town where you had to pay to urinate (down here in Ozarklandia we just say “pee”). Broadway is a place somewhere around New York City where people are all teed off at one another and even piss in the streets to express their courage and individuality.
My how things have changed since HarleyDad was a boy. We didn’t talk about things that people did with that part of the anatomy. But now I guess privates aren’t private any more. They are “publics” and plays are written about them and high school students that shouldn’t be peein’ at all are playing roles about it and getting honors and awards.
If you want to be uppity and edicated and all advanced, then I guess you can go to the website for Urinetown. You can find it at http://www.urinetown.com/flash/index.html
They don’t show very many dirty pictures so they aren’t pornography (which is defined as photography without clothing) or nothing like that .
Well it was a long play and drizzling outside, so HarleyDad had to keep excusing himself and running off to the little boys room where thankfully the students were not selling programs, tee-shirts that said “ I was pissed off at Urinetown”, piss pots or Urinetown coffee mugs. But enough of bathroom humor. Evidently the play was a rousing success and everybody enjoyed it. TayBelle played a magnificent role.
HarleyDad however explained to ImpQueen and Taybelle that he had attended uppity plays before and new fangled method acting. He knew what the Theatre of the Absurd was and he had attended such wonderful musicals before such as “Hair” which really wasn’t about hair but was about mooning the audience, so HarleyDad knew good acting when he had seen it. And by the way, TayBelle was a good actress, but still the mime was a terrible thing to waste.
All that being said HarleyDad returned to his pick-up truck whistling “The Age of Aquarius”, and he and Brokerbelle returned to Ozarklandia where he was safe from noveau art once again.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
What You See Ain't What You Get
That’s right. Things have changed. What you see ain’t what you get. Appearances are deceiving. That “sweet young thing” shown in People Magazine has had had a breast implant, her teeth straighten, and wears colored contacts. She has had liposuction, wrinkles removed, a tummy staple, a nose job and who knows what else.
Schock Jock, Howard Stern, awards paid breast implants to those lucky strippers that he interviews. You might say he awards “bobbie prizes” to his guests.
And hey we are not just talking about the women. The guys have been sectioned and parted as well. That poor bald head has had a new rug weaved on it and he has a new nose job to boot.
Desirability and sexuality is the name of the game. Medicine is so far along that if you don’t like your sex, change it.
Now I grew up in New Orleans. And so I saw a lot of things. There were places filled with female impersonators and we had “bird cages” all about. I heard stories of some of our football players who went out on dates and were they surprised that the girls they picked up in downtown New Orleans were not always girls. And Rue Paul in those days was as common as the girl next door.
So things are not always what they seem at first blush. And believe me we should blush plenty these days.
We can change the parts of our bodies like parting an old Chevy. If you don’t like it, change it. If it doesn’t work well enough, then enhance it or supersize it. We advertise, male enhancements on T.V. I wonder who ever wrote those ads. What a stroke of genius. Take the advertised medication and if you get so enhanced that if you can’t get unenhanced, contact a doctor immediately.
Millions of men watching the ad are thinking, wow, maybe that will happen to me. Millions of women watching the ad are thinking, Wow, I hope that doesn’t happen to him! The attorney who reviewed the ad must have laughed himself or herself silly. The FTC probably looks at those commercials finds itself impotent to say anything at all. Meanwhile I keep trying to figure out how they got those “his and her” bathtubs to overlook the vineyard and sunset. If I tried that in my backyard we would get arrested. And maybe you have to carry the hot water to them in buckets. But hey, you are ready anytime, anywhere in your twin small bathtubs.
Imagine if the people of ancient times or even recent times had our medical technology. Perhaps Socrates would get a tummy tuck. Jesus might have gotten his teeth fixed and Ghandi could have gotten a hair transplant. Wow, I bet they would have been happier people. At least Xantippe, the wife of Socrates, might have been happier knowing that her man had six pack abs.
After all it is not who are in the inside, but what we look like on the outside. That is what the media implies and it appears that many are in agreement.
Perhaps there are few of us around that still believe that what you are on the inside still matters more than what you are on the outside and that you can only shore up the leaky dam for so long.
Schock Jock, Howard Stern, awards paid breast implants to those lucky strippers that he interviews. You might say he awards “bobbie prizes” to his guests.
And hey we are not just talking about the women. The guys have been sectioned and parted as well. That poor bald head has had a new rug weaved on it and he has a new nose job to boot.
Desirability and sexuality is the name of the game. Medicine is so far along that if you don’t like your sex, change it.
Now I grew up in New Orleans. And so I saw a lot of things. There were places filled with female impersonators and we had “bird cages” all about. I heard stories of some of our football players who went out on dates and were they surprised that the girls they picked up in downtown New Orleans were not always girls. And Rue Paul in those days was as common as the girl next door.
So things are not always what they seem at first blush. And believe me we should blush plenty these days.
We can change the parts of our bodies like parting an old Chevy. If you don’t like it, change it. If it doesn’t work well enough, then enhance it or supersize it. We advertise, male enhancements on T.V. I wonder who ever wrote those ads. What a stroke of genius. Take the advertised medication and if you get so enhanced that if you can’t get unenhanced, contact a doctor immediately.
Millions of men watching the ad are thinking, wow, maybe that will happen to me. Millions of women watching the ad are thinking, Wow, I hope that doesn’t happen to him! The attorney who reviewed the ad must have laughed himself or herself silly. The FTC probably looks at those commercials finds itself impotent to say anything at all. Meanwhile I keep trying to figure out how they got those “his and her” bathtubs to overlook the vineyard and sunset. If I tried that in my backyard we would get arrested. And maybe you have to carry the hot water to them in buckets. But hey, you are ready anytime, anywhere in your twin small bathtubs.
Imagine if the people of ancient times or even recent times had our medical technology. Perhaps Socrates would get a tummy tuck. Jesus might have gotten his teeth fixed and Ghandi could have gotten a hair transplant. Wow, I bet they would have been happier people. At least Xantippe, the wife of Socrates, might have been happier knowing that her man had six pack abs.
After all it is not who are in the inside, but what we look like on the outside. That is what the media implies and it appears that many are in agreement.
Perhaps there are few of us around that still believe that what you are on the inside still matters more than what you are on the outside and that you can only shore up the leaky dam for so long.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Tribute to Our Soldiers
One of the finest tributes to our soldiers in the U.S. military was given by Ken Harbaugh, a former Navy Pilot attending Yale Law School. In the course of it he tells about visiting near by the grave of a Sargeant who died serving his country in Iraq. The tribute was given on "All Things Considered" on National Public Radio on January 9, 2007. I found it very touching and would recommend it to you. You can find it by going to the listings on www.npr.org. If you can't find it immediately search in the date area and use the word "Yale."
A link to it is : http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6768730
HarleyDad
A link to it is : http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6768730
HarleyDad
The Scales of Justice
Well HarleyDad stepped on the scales of justice and they broke. It seems that Brokerbelle and I have been living on the fat of the land. Now it is pay back time. The yang is too fat, and it is time for the ying to be skinny to balance our past dietary sins and excesses.
So we have embarked upon a well-known fad diet. The box of food arrived a few days ago. The first instruction was to eat the cardboard container that they were shipped in. No butter or salt on the cardboard. It provided a low cal meal and after a day of not eating was fairly nutritious if not tasty.
Then there are the powdered eggs. I guess I should not have worried. After all they say Military Surplus 1945. If they were good enough for our brave soldiers then they are good enough for Brokerbelle and myself.
There was a final indignity. It is called the "weigh-in." Brokerbelle and I stepped on those lying scales. They must be faulty to show such weight and we had not stepped on them for years.
I have put out a diet alert to my associates and most know not to bother me except with the most trivial of issues. Many of them are dieting too. I wonder if tension will go up in the work place. I noticed the snack bar is keeping their snacks longer.
More on the adventures of dieting later. Perhaps if I have surgery I could cut off part of me and send part of the U.S. and HarleyDad surplus to an undeveloped nation.
Well back to eating cardboard by candlelight.
HarleyDad
So we have embarked upon a well-known fad diet. The box of food arrived a few days ago. The first instruction was to eat the cardboard container that they were shipped in. No butter or salt on the cardboard. It provided a low cal meal and after a day of not eating was fairly nutritious if not tasty.
Then there are the powdered eggs. I guess I should not have worried. After all they say Military Surplus 1945. If they were good enough for our brave soldiers then they are good enough for Brokerbelle and myself.
There was a final indignity. It is called the "weigh-in." Brokerbelle and I stepped on those lying scales. They must be faulty to show such weight and we had not stepped on them for years.
I have put out a diet alert to my associates and most know not to bother me except with the most trivial of issues. Many of them are dieting too. I wonder if tension will go up in the work place. I noticed the snack bar is keeping their snacks longer.
More on the adventures of dieting later. Perhaps if I have surgery I could cut off part of me and send part of the U.S. and HarleyDad surplus to an undeveloped nation.
Well back to eating cardboard by candlelight.
HarleyDad
Monday, January 08, 2007
And the Geese Flew Backwards
Well, last week my camera was being cleaned thanks to the efforts of Mr. Monarch and the ImpQueen who took the camera to an Ozarklandia camera store. HarleyDad lives in the sticks and there is no camera store that does repair in this area.
Someone evidently leaked this hot news to the local flocks of Canadian Geese. All week long they taunted me by such antics as flying backwards, doing pirouettes while flying, doing group flying before wonderful sunsets. They obviously knew that I was a photographer without a camera and so they did world-class goose performances just to "get my goat" as we say in Ozarklandia.
Well, I got my camera back this weekend and the geese immediately all settled down and went to sleep tired from their performances the week before.
Those geese are pretty smart critters.
HarleyDad
Someone evidently leaked this hot news to the local flocks of Canadian Geese. All week long they taunted me by such antics as flying backwards, doing pirouettes while flying, doing group flying before wonderful sunsets. They obviously knew that I was a photographer without a camera and so they did world-class goose performances just to "get my goat" as we say in Ozarklandia.
Well, I got my camera back this weekend and the geese immediately all settled down and went to sleep tired from their performances the week before.
Those geese are pretty smart critters.
HarleyDad
Monday, January 01, 2007
Single File
Copyright E. Jett 2007A flock of Canadian geese line up in single file and fly across Table Rock Lake in the Morning.
Leaving 2006 and Entering 2007
Copyright E. Jett 2007Whether we travel by Harley or by the Branson Belle, it is my hope and prayer that we will travel with God as our Commander and Chief, as our Senior Co-Pilot, into 2007. May we leave behind the failures, sins and problems of 2006 and explore the uncharted waters and vistas of 2007 with Him guiding us and beside us.
Welcome to 2007!
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