This mornings Tribune sports section devoted most of it's front page to moaning over the loss of the annual Utah/BYU football game. Personally, I say, "Good riddance. We don't need it any more."
For all the years that Gordon Monson and Kurt Kragthorpe were beating the drum that Utah and BYU deserved the kind of recognition that bigger schools get, you would think that after the events of the last two years, they would realize they were HALF right. Utah does. BYU, not so much.
Monson seems to think it's a bad thing because Utah is going to schedule a, "cupcake" school, and they might lose to BYU. Yep. You got that right, Gordo. And it's the way it is in college football these days. A random look at the schedule of some SEC schools shows Alabama playing two, "directional" schools, Western Kentucky and the week before they play Auburn, Western Carolina.
Vanderbilt is taking on perennial football powerhouses Presbyterian (I was raised one, and know nothing about THIS school. Like where it is?) and Massachusetts, which became a FBS school only this year.
South Carolina is playing UAB early in the year and Wofford the week before their season ending game at Clemson.
I guess I can overlook the BYU cheerleader sports writers failure to pick up a college football magazine this summer.
He also seems to think that our future schedule will include a, "Paducah State", but here's the rub on that. Right now, BYU might still be able to beat Utah on occasion. But with a schedule that's heavy on Thursday night games against the likes of Idaho, San Jose State and New Mexico State? It's not going to be long before BYU IS, Paducah State. What chance do you have to recruit real talented players with no conference to win, no chance at ever playing in a BCS Game and no chance to ever play college football on a Saturday afternoon?
I don't know how Monson can say that most of the state wants the rivalry to continue. Most of the BYU fans do. I'm pretty sure it's a safe bet to think most Mormons want the games to continue. But Ute fans aren't going to miss it.
Kragthorpe doesn't get it either. Yes, we could have made room on our schedule for BYU, but we don't want to! Most of my friends are Utah Football season ticket holders and we're happy the game is going away. We'd rather play Michigan.
When BYU held their breath and threw a temper tantrum that they didn't get invited to a BCS conference a couple years ago, they sealed their fate. They refused to make the concessions necessary to be invited to the Big 12. And they had such an inflated view of their own worth to college football that they thought they would be able to pull off a Notre Dame type schedule every year. It isn't going to happen.
Look, the Utes now have a new priority. Win the PAC 12 and go to the Rose Bowl is the goal at the start of every year. Even LAST year that was the goal. Was it obtainable? Hell yes! We were two missed field goals away from doing exactly that! Would we have beaten Oregon? Probably not, but it would have been a lot of fun to watch us try.
It's been said that the folks down in Utah County live in the, "bubble". And the password to get into the bubble is, "1984". And all this fuss about not playing Utah seems to confirm it. These are two schools going in different directions in college football.
It's not 1984 any more. A lousy Utah football season can no longer be salvaged just by beating BYU at the end of it. And I'm pretty sure that as much as we will come to loath Colorado as our new rival, there will not be a time in the foreseeable future when beating them would save an otherwise terrible season.
We do indeed have bigger fish to fry these day. Bigger than New Mexico State and Idaho. So when you take the BYU game off the schedule, and replace them with Wofford, or Presbyterian or some similar school, it gives your team a rest. And we're going to need a lot of rest to get to The Rose Bowl.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Was It God? Or Karma? Or Just A Shitty Day?
Yesterday, I made a joke on Facebook about going to the Cathedral downtown for Alex and Mari's wedding. And how the holy water didn't boil, and the lightning didn't strike when the atheist went in the front door. Ha, ha.
Well, this morning I am awakened by a call from the Rehab Center where my mom is recovering from surgery last week, and they have sent her back to the hospital in an ambulance, because she is having trouble breathing. That's not good.
We go to the hospital, and I'll make a long story short, she has blood clots in both of her lungs, and has been readmitted, and is in the Pulmonary ICU.
Then, I come home and my neighbor, Ernie is pissed off at me. And I don't blame him. He should be.
Last night, since we had that 7 hours of soaking rain on Thursday, I let Danny shoot off all the fireworks his mom had bought for him, since we couldn't on the 4th. We were in the no fireworks zone Murray City imposed on the 4th. Even though it was just barely, I didn't want to be the guy who burned up the Parkway, so I told him no.
I might still have been doing something illegal, but with all that rain? I kind of figured we were OK. I'm always careful. Take the hose out to the street with us.
But last night, we had one go horribly wrong. One of the one's that goes WAY up in the air (and yes, it was bought here in Utah, so it was legal) tipped over. Pointing at us. One of the balls shot right between me and my daughter. We were diving for cover. I found the ball in front of the new garage this morning. It was the size of a squash ball, and had four opening in it. It would have hurt you pretty bad if it hit you.
Another one shot into the front planter at Ernie's house, and I hit it with the hose right away, so it was not problem. But the next one appeared to shoot over to the west side of his house. I ran over there with a flashlight, and couldn't find anything, so it must have gone out.
What I didn't know until this morning, when Ernie let me know, was that it hit the top of his pickup truck that was parked in his driveway. Oops. I felt like a jerk. Ernie went off on me, and he should. But I told him I'd take care of it.
I gave him a car wash coupon for Prompt Car Wash and their, "Ultimate Elite" car wash that my mom had given me for Father's Day. And told him that if the mark didn't wash off after that, he should go to the body shop we both use, Marv's Auto Body and tell Jim to repaint it, and I'll pay the bill.
This bad stuff all happens before noon.
But, the day got better. Phil and Jim showed up for Dog Day. And later, my friend, Dorian came over with her new puppy. She had a baby two weeks ago and looks great. It was so good to see her. I bet I hadn't seen her face to face in a year.
She said her husband said he would stay home with the baby and she should get out of the house since it had been about month since she had. So we got to meet, Ruby the new Basset Hound and hang out for a while.
But maybe, just maybe I shouldn't joke around about church.
And if any of you think I really mean that last statement? You don't know me that well. This blog is supposed to make you laugh most of the time.
Well, this morning I am awakened by a call from the Rehab Center where my mom is recovering from surgery last week, and they have sent her back to the hospital in an ambulance, because she is having trouble breathing. That's not good.
We go to the hospital, and I'll make a long story short, she has blood clots in both of her lungs, and has been readmitted, and is in the Pulmonary ICU.
Then, I come home and my neighbor, Ernie is pissed off at me. And I don't blame him. He should be.
Last night, since we had that 7 hours of soaking rain on Thursday, I let Danny shoot off all the fireworks his mom had bought for him, since we couldn't on the 4th. We were in the no fireworks zone Murray City imposed on the 4th. Even though it was just barely, I didn't want to be the guy who burned up the Parkway, so I told him no.
I might still have been doing something illegal, but with all that rain? I kind of figured we were OK. I'm always careful. Take the hose out to the street with us.
But last night, we had one go horribly wrong. One of the one's that goes WAY up in the air (and yes, it was bought here in Utah, so it was legal) tipped over. Pointing at us. One of the balls shot right between me and my daughter. We were diving for cover. I found the ball in front of the new garage this morning. It was the size of a squash ball, and had four opening in it. It would have hurt you pretty bad if it hit you.
Another one shot into the front planter at Ernie's house, and I hit it with the hose right away, so it was not problem. But the next one appeared to shoot over to the west side of his house. I ran over there with a flashlight, and couldn't find anything, so it must have gone out.
What I didn't know until this morning, when Ernie let me know, was that it hit the top of his pickup truck that was parked in his driveway. Oops. I felt like a jerk. Ernie went off on me, and he should. But I told him I'd take care of it.
I gave him a car wash coupon for Prompt Car Wash and their, "Ultimate Elite" car wash that my mom had given me for Father's Day. And told him that if the mark didn't wash off after that, he should go to the body shop we both use, Marv's Auto Body and tell Jim to repaint it, and I'll pay the bill.
This bad stuff all happens before noon.
But, the day got better. Phil and Jim showed up for Dog Day. And later, my friend, Dorian came over with her new puppy. She had a baby two weeks ago and looks great. It was so good to see her. I bet I hadn't seen her face to face in a year.
She said her husband said he would stay home with the baby and she should get out of the house since it had been about month since she had. So we got to meet, Ruby the new Basset Hound and hang out for a while.
But maybe, just maybe I shouldn't joke around about church.
And if any of you think I really mean that last statement? You don't know me that well. This blog is supposed to make you laugh most of the time.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
No Soliciting. Yeah, I Mean YOU TOO!
so-lic-it v 1. To seek to obtain; solicit votes 2. To entreat: importune. 3. To entice; tempt [< L sollicitare, to disturb, agitate]
From the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 1970.
I ate a Jehovah's Witness for breakfast today. It was his own, damn fault. He tasted a little, underdone? Maybe.
I didn't retire to get up early. As a matter of fact, one of the few pleasurable things about my job, near then end, was that I could set my own hours. And didn't mind hitting the streets a few nights a week, because that meant that the next morning, I could sleep in. It's been one of my favorite activities since I was a child.
This morning at the ungodly hour of nine, freakin', thirty my doorbell rings. My neighbors know my habits, so I'm thinking one of them really needs my help. I grab a robe and run to the door. Only to be greeted by a grandfatherly looking man in too much polyester, and a tie, who tries to hand me a magazine.
Big mistake. Motherfucker is the nicest thing I called him. I unloaded on this son of a bitch. And I did it because I have a, "NO SOLICITING" sign on my front door. So that allows me to bite his head off and shit down his neck. Because he has been WARNED! I do not wish to be disturbed, or agitated.
And I'm assuming he can read. After all, he's handing out magazines, right?
Old people, and religious nuts seem to think they are exempt from the, "NO SOLICITING" sign. Well, you're not. I don't care if you're selling vacuum cleaners, frozen steaks or Jesus. If I'm looking for any of those, I'll come looking for you. Woe be unto you if you make me get out of my chair just to prove to me that you can't or won't read if I'm watching the Utes, or The Redwings. I might answer that door with a gun.
There used to be this one old son of a bitch, who about once a month would drag his pith helmet wearing old head, up my stairs to ring my doorbell, and cut off a piece of an orange to try and sell me a bag of his oranges. He wouldn't quit, no matter how many times I tried to nicely, point out my sign. I finally had to chew him up and spit him out on Ernie's front yard, rather rudely, to get him to cut it out!
Then there was the guy with bad comb over (I know, bad, and comb over. Under redundant, see: redundant) who came buy here twice in about two weeks. The first time I was only mildly irritated. I told him I don't give to religious organizations, and I had a, "sign" and I would like him to respect it.
But the second time he came I yelled at him so hard, he dropped his briefcase and got really nervous. I'm pretty sure he thought I was going to hurt him. I'm also pretty sure the money he was soliciting for some starving folks in Africa had about as much chance of getting there as he had of picking up chicks in a bar with that hair.
He actually said, "But I'm raising money for a religious charity" like that was some kind of, armour that would protect him from the, "NO SOLICITING" sign! Ha! My sign trumps your bullshit. Every time.
Then there are the poor, misguided, Mormon Missionary's. They have only come buy a couple of times since we have lived here. I'm pretty sure that my attitude about religion has been spread to the local Ward House, and shared with these young men.
The last time was in the middle of the afternoon. And I was doing something really important, like watching a, COPS rerun I've only seen 7 times, or something like that. They gave me their little spiel, and I finally had had enough. I didn't yell at them, I didn't get out of line, well, yeah I did, but I didn't go nuts on them. I just very calmly said to them, "Boys. You're wasting your life. Go home, go to college where you learn HOW to think, instead of WHAT to think. Have sex with some GIRLS. Drink some beer. Have a good time. This should be the best time of your life, and you're wasting it." And I closed the door. They have not come back.
I'm pretty sure they were bearing their testimony to each other most of the night after that. But lets face it. If you're a really smart, young, Mormon guy you get sent to France, or China, or Peru. If you're not too bright, you go to Seattle, or Alabama. But if you're the dumbest Mormon in your South Dakota Ward? They will send you here. I always ask the Missionary's I see here, "Don't you ever feel like you're carrying coals to Newcastle?" They never know what I'm talking about.
The last category of folks who don't read, "The Sign" are the dumb. I don't know what this idiot was selling a month or so ago, but I opened the door, and he started in on his spiel, and I just pointed to the sign and said, "Can't you read?!" He sashayed off the steps saying something about, "I CAN read, and it's not my problem. It's YOUR problem if you..." That's as far as this rat bastard got before I came unglued.
By the time I walked this dumb ass down the driveway, he was about six inches tall and getting shorter, "Oh you CAN read, but you chose not to and bother me anyway you motherf*****! You dumb son of a bitch who has never read a book with the word, "solicit" in it? And then you claim it's MY fault that YOU annoyed ME? You got some nerve you..." And this went on for a while. He's never come back, either.
So, for anyone who doesn't know, because I'm nothing else, if not educational here at, The Truthstick, I'm going to explain the intricacies and boundary's of the, "NO SOLICITING" sign. The subtleties, and when you can and can't knock on that door, if you're not a neighbor or friend, come to visit. It's complicated, so you might want to get a pad and paper and take some notes. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Ready? Here we go. If you are doing what you're doing to sell me something, whether it's raffle tickets, or Jesus. If you want my money for any reason. And you see a, "NO SOLICITING" sign on my front door? Here is the first rule.
DON'T FUCKING BOTHER ME! You are not exempt if you're doing it for a good cause. You are not exempt if you are old. You are not exempt, well, EVER! I don't want to be bothered.
Than ends today's lesson on the, "NO SOLICITING" sign. There will be no end of class quiz. But if you show up at my door for any of the above reasons? You're going to know right away if you passed the class. Trust me.
From the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 1970.
I ate a Jehovah's Witness for breakfast today. It was his own, damn fault. He tasted a little, underdone? Maybe.
I didn't retire to get up early. As a matter of fact, one of the few pleasurable things about my job, near then end, was that I could set my own hours. And didn't mind hitting the streets a few nights a week, because that meant that the next morning, I could sleep in. It's been one of my favorite activities since I was a child.
This morning at the ungodly hour of nine, freakin', thirty my doorbell rings. My neighbors know my habits, so I'm thinking one of them really needs my help. I grab a robe and run to the door. Only to be greeted by a grandfatherly looking man in too much polyester, and a tie, who tries to hand me a magazine.
Big mistake. Motherfucker is the nicest thing I called him. I unloaded on this son of a bitch. And I did it because I have a, "NO SOLICITING" sign on my front door. So that allows me to bite his head off and shit down his neck. Because he has been WARNED! I do not wish to be disturbed, or agitated.
And I'm assuming he can read. After all, he's handing out magazines, right?
Old people, and religious nuts seem to think they are exempt from the, "NO SOLICITING" sign. Well, you're not. I don't care if you're selling vacuum cleaners, frozen steaks or Jesus. If I'm looking for any of those, I'll come looking for you. Woe be unto you if you make me get out of my chair just to prove to me that you can't or won't read if I'm watching the Utes, or The Redwings. I might answer that door with a gun.
There used to be this one old son of a bitch, who about once a month would drag his pith helmet wearing old head, up my stairs to ring my doorbell, and cut off a piece of an orange to try and sell me a bag of his oranges. He wouldn't quit, no matter how many times I tried to nicely, point out my sign. I finally had to chew him up and spit him out on Ernie's front yard, rather rudely, to get him to cut it out!
Then there was the guy with bad comb over (I know, bad, and comb over. Under redundant, see: redundant) who came buy here twice in about two weeks. The first time I was only mildly irritated. I told him I don't give to religious organizations, and I had a, "sign" and I would like him to respect it.
But the second time he came I yelled at him so hard, he dropped his briefcase and got really nervous. I'm pretty sure he thought I was going to hurt him. I'm also pretty sure the money he was soliciting for some starving folks in Africa had about as much chance of getting there as he had of picking up chicks in a bar with that hair.
He actually said, "But I'm raising money for a religious charity" like that was some kind of, armour that would protect him from the, "NO SOLICITING" sign! Ha! My sign trumps your bullshit. Every time.
Then there are the poor, misguided, Mormon Missionary's. They have only come buy a couple of times since we have lived here. I'm pretty sure that my attitude about religion has been spread to the local Ward House, and shared with these young men.
The last time was in the middle of the afternoon. And I was doing something really important, like watching a, COPS rerun I've only seen 7 times, or something like that. They gave me their little spiel, and I finally had had enough. I didn't yell at them, I didn't get out of line, well, yeah I did, but I didn't go nuts on them. I just very calmly said to them, "Boys. You're wasting your life. Go home, go to college where you learn HOW to think, instead of WHAT to think. Have sex with some GIRLS. Drink some beer. Have a good time. This should be the best time of your life, and you're wasting it." And I closed the door. They have not come back.
I'm pretty sure they were bearing their testimony to each other most of the night after that. But lets face it. If you're a really smart, young, Mormon guy you get sent to France, or China, or Peru. If you're not too bright, you go to Seattle, or Alabama. But if you're the dumbest Mormon in your South Dakota Ward? They will send you here. I always ask the Missionary's I see here, "Don't you ever feel like you're carrying coals to Newcastle?" They never know what I'm talking about.
The last category of folks who don't read, "The Sign" are the dumb. I don't know what this idiot was selling a month or so ago, but I opened the door, and he started in on his spiel, and I just pointed to the sign and said, "Can't you read?!" He sashayed off the steps saying something about, "I CAN read, and it's not my problem. It's YOUR problem if you..." That's as far as this rat bastard got before I came unglued.
By the time I walked this dumb ass down the driveway, he was about six inches tall and getting shorter, "Oh you CAN read, but you chose not to and bother me anyway you motherf*****! You dumb son of a bitch who has never read a book with the word, "solicit" in it? And then you claim it's MY fault that YOU annoyed ME? You got some nerve you..." And this went on for a while. He's never come back, either.
So, for anyone who doesn't know, because I'm nothing else, if not educational here at, The Truthstick, I'm going to explain the intricacies and boundary's of the, "NO SOLICITING" sign. The subtleties, and when you can and can't knock on that door, if you're not a neighbor or friend, come to visit. It's complicated, so you might want to get a pad and paper and take some notes. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Ready? Here we go. If you are doing what you're doing to sell me something, whether it's raffle tickets, or Jesus. If you want my money for any reason. And you see a, "NO SOLICITING" sign on my front door? Here is the first rule.
DON'T FUCKING BOTHER ME! You are not exempt if you're doing it for a good cause. You are not exempt if you are old. You are not exempt, well, EVER! I don't want to be bothered.
Than ends today's lesson on the, "NO SOLICITING" sign. There will be no end of class quiz. But if you show up at my door for any of the above reasons? You're going to know right away if you passed the class. Trust me.
Danny Drives The Camaro. God Help Us All
Deb and I used to joke about putting the Camaro keys in the gun safe when we traveled, so Danny wouldn't try to drive it and end up dead in a ditch.
A legit concern. You don't want a kid who has had his drivers license a few months to take off in what is basically, a full blown race car. 406 BHP. God forbid he turn off the ESC to see what it could REALLY do.
Yes, I taught him about shit like that. My bad. I just wanted my kid to know, and appreciate cars as much as I do.
He already got in trouble because I told him the, "S" setting on the Audi transmission is, "Sport". But that's another story.
I decided that since he's been such a good driver since he got his license in February, that it was time to let him know, if nothing else, why I won't let him just take off in the rocket car. So I took him over to Taylorsville High Schools big, drivers ed course.
It was covered in dirt from their football field remodel. Shit.
So we drove over, I drove over, to Murray's drivers ed course. Not the best place for this, as there are four light poles in it. But better than any other place I could think of.
I told him to just drive it around the course like he was driving one of the cars he drove in drivers ed and feel the difference. I told him how the car weighed a couple thousand pounds, and most of it was in the front end because of the engine. That there was no weight in the back, where the power was. That it would tend to over stear because of that. Trying to explain why a, "Muscle Car" was what it was, and why it's not like a regular car.
It goes really fast in a straight line. But on the curves? Not so much.
He got it. I have to hand it to him.
I had him back it into the corner of the course, aim it in a straight line, and stomp on the gas. He got THAT too. He realized that this car was going to go WAY faster than any car he's ever driven, WAY sooner than any car he's ever driven.
He got it. But he also said, "It's like driving the Audi."
Well, sort of. I explained to him that that the Audi was a high performance, TOURING car. And as fast as it was, even when you put the transmission in, "S", it has all wheel drive, and will stay on the road when the Camaro can kill you. They are different beasts. You have to treat them differently.
The Audi is much more FORGIVING of your mistakes. The Camaro is a cruel lover. You upset her? And she won't let you off the hook like the Audi. She will punish you.
Then I replaced him in the driver seat. Turned off the ESC, stomped my left foot down on the break, and stomped my right foot on the gas. And left about $100 of Pierelli performance rubber on the Murray High drivers ed lot in a puff of smoke. Well, a few seconds of smoke.
This was to explain to him that if you do that on a curve? You better hope the puff of smoke is a smoke signal calling the paramedics. You don't FUCK with the Camaro. It will treat you bad if you don't know what you're doing. I think, after seeing the pile of rubber in the parking lot? He gets it.
I started to drive out of the parking lot, but I stopped and asked him, "You think you can drive it home?"
"YEAH! You'll let me do that?"
"Yeah. But the visibility in this car sucks. So turn into the number one lane, and stay in it, even if you have to stop for cars turning into the dealerships, all the way to 59th."
He did so.
And he did well. I told him to floor it one time, and he did. For about a second or two, before he realized how crazy fast this thing was, and brought it back down to about 35.
He turned onto 5900 South and got clear to Greenoakes, coming into the neighborhood, before he said, "Did I do well enough that I can take it to dances (at the high school)?"
I just said, "We'll see."
But now, when Deb and I leave town? I really DO have to put the keys in the gun safe. Cause he's no longer afraid of it. Hell, he even parked it in, The Garage Ma Hall when we were done. I'm sure he's feeling ten feet tall and bullet proof at this point.
But that's OK. He's a good driver, and I trust him. And he can tell all his friends, "I drove the, Bitchin Camaro!"
He was so exited about it, that when we were on our way to the driveing range, he was texting his friends about it. I only know because he asked me, "How do you spell, Camaro?"
That's funny.
A legit concern. You don't want a kid who has had his drivers license a few months to take off in what is basically, a full blown race car. 406 BHP. God forbid he turn off the ESC to see what it could REALLY do.
Yes, I taught him about shit like that. My bad. I just wanted my kid to know, and appreciate cars as much as I do.
He already got in trouble because I told him the, "S" setting on the Audi transmission is, "Sport". But that's another story.
I decided that since he's been such a good driver since he got his license in February, that it was time to let him know, if nothing else, why I won't let him just take off in the rocket car. So I took him over to Taylorsville High Schools big, drivers ed course.
It was covered in dirt from their football field remodel. Shit.
So we drove over, I drove over, to Murray's drivers ed course. Not the best place for this, as there are four light poles in it. But better than any other place I could think of.
I told him to just drive it around the course like he was driving one of the cars he drove in drivers ed and feel the difference. I told him how the car weighed a couple thousand pounds, and most of it was in the front end because of the engine. That there was no weight in the back, where the power was. That it would tend to over stear because of that. Trying to explain why a, "Muscle Car" was what it was, and why it's not like a regular car.
It goes really fast in a straight line. But on the curves? Not so much.
He got it. I have to hand it to him.
I had him back it into the corner of the course, aim it in a straight line, and stomp on the gas. He got THAT too. He realized that this car was going to go WAY faster than any car he's ever driven, WAY sooner than any car he's ever driven.
He got it. But he also said, "It's like driving the Audi."
Well, sort of. I explained to him that that the Audi was a high performance, TOURING car. And as fast as it was, even when you put the transmission in, "S", it has all wheel drive, and will stay on the road when the Camaro can kill you. They are different beasts. You have to treat them differently.
The Audi is much more FORGIVING of your mistakes. The Camaro is a cruel lover. You upset her? And she won't let you off the hook like the Audi. She will punish you.
Then I replaced him in the driver seat. Turned off the ESC, stomped my left foot down on the break, and stomped my right foot on the gas. And left about $100 of Pierelli performance rubber on the Murray High drivers ed lot in a puff of smoke. Well, a few seconds of smoke.
This was to explain to him that if you do that on a curve? You better hope the puff of smoke is a smoke signal calling the paramedics. You don't FUCK with the Camaro. It will treat you bad if you don't know what you're doing. I think, after seeing the pile of rubber in the parking lot? He gets it.
I started to drive out of the parking lot, but I stopped and asked him, "You think you can drive it home?"
"YEAH! You'll let me do that?"
"Yeah. But the visibility in this car sucks. So turn into the number one lane, and stay in it, even if you have to stop for cars turning into the dealerships, all the way to 59th."
He did so.
And he did well. I told him to floor it one time, and he did. For about a second or two, before he realized how crazy fast this thing was, and brought it back down to about 35.
He turned onto 5900 South and got clear to Greenoakes, coming into the neighborhood, before he said, "Did I do well enough that I can take it to dances (at the high school)?"
I just said, "We'll see."
But now, when Deb and I leave town? I really DO have to put the keys in the gun safe. Cause he's no longer afraid of it. Hell, he even parked it in, The Garage Ma Hall when we were done. I'm sure he's feeling ten feet tall and bullet proof at this point.
But that's OK. He's a good driver, and I trust him. And he can tell all his friends, "I drove the, Bitchin Camaro!"
He was so exited about it, that when we were on our way to the driveing range, he was texting his friends about it. I only know because he asked me, "How do you spell, Camaro?"
That's funny.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Mom Fell, And She Can't Get Up!
It's never going to happen to YOU! After all, YOUR parents aren't as goofy as those folks in those stupid, "HELP! I've fallen, and I can't get up!" commercials.
Until it happens to you.
My mother is 78 years old. And I'm thinking the three staircases she walks every day to do her laundry and go to bed at night, are what's keeping her alive at this age. Her HOUSE is a STAIRMASTER!
But Saturday, bad shit happened.
She fell in the afternoon, and couldn't reach the phone. Couldn't even crawl to the closet where she keeps her purse, in which she keeps her cell phone. That she never uses.
She was there until Sunday morning when her friend, Jill found her. The Paramedics were called and they decided that she was OK. Not a stroke, not a heart attack, and after they got her off the floor? She could walk to the bathroom. everything was good.
But it wasn't.
I went home to order her one of those, "buttons" and I did. It would be shipped on Monday. I called her to tell her this and she said, "I've fallen again".
Shit. Deb and I drove over and she couldn't move! Called the paramedics again, and this time, I insisted that they take her to the hospital. Good thing I did.
She had an infection and her Gaul bladder was ALL screwed up. This might just be the reason, she could not sit up. Let alone get up off the floor.
Today, Tuesday, they took out her Gaul bladder. It was so screwed up, it had gangrene! YUCK!
She had no signs of this on Friday, and Saturday she almost dies?
Oh, we're going to keep the, "button", no matter how good she feels after she gets home.
She's going to do a week in rehab to get her strength back before she goes home.
But at least she's still with us.
She's going to miss Alex's wedding, which is killing her. But she's going to be alive to see his kids. So we got that going for us.
What a summer. Too crazy. And I haven't even gone to CUBA yet!
Until it happens to you.
My mother is 78 years old. And I'm thinking the three staircases she walks every day to do her laundry and go to bed at night, are what's keeping her alive at this age. Her HOUSE is a STAIRMASTER!
But Saturday, bad shit happened.
She fell in the afternoon, and couldn't reach the phone. Couldn't even crawl to the closet where she keeps her purse, in which she keeps her cell phone. That she never uses.
She was there until Sunday morning when her friend, Jill found her. The Paramedics were called and they decided that she was OK. Not a stroke, not a heart attack, and after they got her off the floor? She could walk to the bathroom. everything was good.
But it wasn't.
I went home to order her one of those, "buttons" and I did. It would be shipped on Monday. I called her to tell her this and she said, "I've fallen again".
Shit. Deb and I drove over and she couldn't move! Called the paramedics again, and this time, I insisted that they take her to the hospital. Good thing I did.
She had an infection and her Gaul bladder was ALL screwed up. This might just be the reason, she could not sit up. Let alone get up off the floor.
Today, Tuesday, they took out her Gaul bladder. It was so screwed up, it had gangrene! YUCK!
She had no signs of this on Friday, and Saturday she almost dies?
Oh, we're going to keep the, "button", no matter how good she feels after she gets home.
She's going to do a week in rehab to get her strength back before she goes home.
But at least she's still with us.
She's going to miss Alex's wedding, which is killing her. But she's going to be alive to see his kids. So we got that going for us.
What a summer. Too crazy. And I haven't even gone to CUBA yet!
Monday, July 2, 2012
Jim Matheson Is A DINO
The same night that Jim Matheson voted to hold the Attorney General in Contempt of Congress, I got a call from some guy working for his campaign, asking if I would be a volunteer. Not only no, but, "HELL NO!"
I know what he's going to say. That he's trying to represent ALL the people of his District. But he doesn't represent me. He's trying so hard to hang on to his job, that he'll whore himself out to the nutball, right wing, to try and garner votes, while talking out the other side of his mouth about how he's really, "one of us". To quote another, ignorant, Republican, "Liar!"
Mia Love is in way over her head, and even if she wins? She won't last more than one term. She can't hold the Priesthood, ya know? Think I'm over reacting? Ask our first female Governer about that. Olene was doing a great job. But she just wasn't the right person FOR the job, ya know?
And since we now have another seat in Congress, and it's going to go to another Republican, I've come up with a strategy to help get more Democratic influence in Washington. The $200 check I would have sent to Jim Matheson a few years ago? I'm going to send to Al Franken (D-MN).
After all, if MY representatives won't represent me? Someone elses will. There is no sense in giving money to Utah, "Democrats". If they are really Democrats, they can't win. And if they are more interested in keeping their job, than doing the right thing? Fuck em. I won't give them money.
Jim Matheson wants to stay in Congress? So he can do what? Make sure this is the most right wing, uneducated, ignorant, short sighted, science denying state in the union? No thanks.
Al, that checks on the way. Thanks for the preadressed envelope. And no, I don't mind springing for the stamp. It's my pleasure.
I know what he's going to say. That he's trying to represent ALL the people of his District. But he doesn't represent me. He's trying so hard to hang on to his job, that he'll whore himself out to the nutball, right wing, to try and garner votes, while talking out the other side of his mouth about how he's really, "one of us". To quote another, ignorant, Republican, "Liar!"
Mia Love is in way over her head, and even if she wins? She won't last more than one term. She can't hold the Priesthood, ya know? Think I'm over reacting? Ask our first female Governer about that. Olene was doing a great job. But she just wasn't the right person FOR the job, ya know?
And since we now have another seat in Congress, and it's going to go to another Republican, I've come up with a strategy to help get more Democratic influence in Washington. The $200 check I would have sent to Jim Matheson a few years ago? I'm going to send to Al Franken (D-MN).
After all, if MY representatives won't represent me? Someone elses will. There is no sense in giving money to Utah, "Democrats". If they are really Democrats, they can't win. And if they are more interested in keeping their job, than doing the right thing? Fuck em. I won't give them money.
Jim Matheson wants to stay in Congress? So he can do what? Make sure this is the most right wing, uneducated, ignorant, short sighted, science denying state in the union? No thanks.
Al, that checks on the way. Thanks for the preadressed envelope. And no, I don't mind springing for the stamp. It's my pleasure.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Was I In The Emergency Room, Or Walmart?
My mom fell yesterday afternoon, in her living room and couldn't get up. She was on the floor until this morning when she finally made her way to her purse, got her cell phone and called her neighbor, Jill to come and help her.
By the time Deb and I got there, the paramedics had left. She was showing no signs of a stroke, or a heart attack and they didn't think she needed to go to the hospital. Once she was up, she could walk to the bathroom, and said she felt fine. So we left her to take a nap on her couch, and I went home to look into one of those, "I've fallen and I can't get up" buttons for the house.
An hour later when I called her to tell her I ordered it, and it would arrive shortly, she said she had fallen again. And couldn't get up.
So we went over, and she was on the floor in front of the couch. Said she went to stand up, and just kind of slid onto the floor and couldn't move. She didn't hit her head or anything. She just wanted Deb and I to help her up, said she would be fine. Except she was not. And she couldn't sit up. Even on the floor.
Call 911, part deaux. She didnt' want to go to the hospital, but I felt that at this point it was that or prop her up in a corner with a bottle of water and the remote control and come back in the morning. So off we went.
The only thing they could find wrong with her at the hospital was a bad urineary tract infection, but decided to keep her overnight. I think that was the right decision. And I hope they get her better soon so she can go home.
But my experience in the ER was troubling.
Any one who knows me, knows that there is no one more left wing then me. I'm pro Union, I support the poor, I wish we had a national health care system, so any one who was sick, could go to a doctor. I worked with poor people all my life. And today only proves that the Liberal view of this national health care argument is the right one.
The ER looked like that, "We are the people of Walmart" video that was so popular. Bad haircuts and bad tattoos were just the start. These people were truly sick. You could tell by looking at them. No one should be that skinny, that fat, that dirty, that miserable in, "The Greatest Country In The World"! I'm quite sure none of these folks had insurance. Otherwise, why would they be in the Emergency Room on a Sunday afternoon when they were not bleeding, or suffering some other, obviously, life thereatining condition?
And this is not like it used to be, at lest in Utah. People in ER's were three for a ligit EMERGENCY! A broken bone. They needed stitches. Now? My baby threw up? Take her to the ER. I can't stop coughing? Go to the ER. Tylenol didn't cure my headache? Go to the ER.
And it was obvious that some of them were regular customers. I recognized the blister packs of antipsychotic drugs they used to give the residents of the halfway houses. And they seemed to know the staff. There were lots of clues that this is a regular outing for the whole family. After all, if you can't afford a baby sitter? Just bring all the kids to the ER.
So I have to ask my Republican friends, who don't want a national health care plan if they think THIS is the most efficent use of our health care funds. Stack up a bunch of our poor people in Emergency Rooms, where they wait all day to get treated for something that could be better addressed in an office visit to a regular doctor, and it would cost ten times less? ER's are expensive.
Wouldn't you rather have everyone get a national health care card, and be able to see any doctor, for any minor problem and the doctor gets paid, the patient gets treated and ER's are for Emergency's?
I know what some of you are saying (and I even know which ones of you are saying it). No! Government isn't the answer. Canadians hate their health care system! They have rationing, and you can't always get treated!
OK, I'm going to ask you guys saying that, "Have you ever been to Canada (Or England, or France, or Greece, or Belize, or Mexico, or Grenada, or Cuba, or ANY where outside the USA)?" Cause if you have NOT. You need to shut the fuck up. You don't know what you're talking about. And you are believing a big old, "Faux News Lie" that they keep telling you because they want you to believe that you are getting the best, most efficent, low cost health care in the world. And it's a lie.
But don't believe me. Go to France. And if that's cost prohibitive, go to the library and find a copy of, "Deadly Spin" by Wendell Potter. For twenty years, Potter was the head of corporate communicatios for CIGNA. Dont' know who GIGNA is? Well, chances are that if your employer provides your health insurance, they are your insurance provider. They are one of the biggest.
And if you think, "Faux News" is actually news? Have someone explain what a, "library" and a, "Book" are.
Our health care system is broken in this country. And, "Obamacare" is a nice start. But it doesn't go far enough.
So the next time you're in the ER, and your kid has a broken arm, and the best they can do for you is a bag of ice and a Tylenol, while he sits there for four hours (happened to me a few years ago when my son broke his thumb at soccer practice) because the doctors are treating everyone who should be able to go to the doctor when they get sick like in every other industrialized country in the world, because he's not bleeding to death, so he'll, "keep"? Ask yourself if keeping your taxes lower, but paying outragous premiums for health insurance that could be canceled if you REALLY get sick is worth it.
Have fun in the ER. Your wait time is...
By the time Deb and I got there, the paramedics had left. She was showing no signs of a stroke, or a heart attack and they didn't think she needed to go to the hospital. Once she was up, she could walk to the bathroom, and said she felt fine. So we left her to take a nap on her couch, and I went home to look into one of those, "I've fallen and I can't get up" buttons for the house.
An hour later when I called her to tell her I ordered it, and it would arrive shortly, she said she had fallen again. And couldn't get up.
So we went over, and she was on the floor in front of the couch. Said she went to stand up, and just kind of slid onto the floor and couldn't move. She didn't hit her head or anything. She just wanted Deb and I to help her up, said she would be fine. Except she was not. And she couldn't sit up. Even on the floor.
Call 911, part deaux. She didnt' want to go to the hospital, but I felt that at this point it was that or prop her up in a corner with a bottle of water and the remote control and come back in the morning. So off we went.
The only thing they could find wrong with her at the hospital was a bad urineary tract infection, but decided to keep her overnight. I think that was the right decision. And I hope they get her better soon so she can go home.
But my experience in the ER was troubling.
Any one who knows me, knows that there is no one more left wing then me. I'm pro Union, I support the poor, I wish we had a national health care system, so any one who was sick, could go to a doctor. I worked with poor people all my life. And today only proves that the Liberal view of this national health care argument is the right one.
The ER looked like that, "We are the people of Walmart" video that was so popular. Bad haircuts and bad tattoos were just the start. These people were truly sick. You could tell by looking at them. No one should be that skinny, that fat, that dirty, that miserable in, "The Greatest Country In The World"! I'm quite sure none of these folks had insurance. Otherwise, why would they be in the Emergency Room on a Sunday afternoon when they were not bleeding, or suffering some other, obviously, life thereatining condition?
And this is not like it used to be, at lest in Utah. People in ER's were three for a ligit EMERGENCY! A broken bone. They needed stitches. Now? My baby threw up? Take her to the ER. I can't stop coughing? Go to the ER. Tylenol didn't cure my headache? Go to the ER.
And it was obvious that some of them were regular customers. I recognized the blister packs of antipsychotic drugs they used to give the residents of the halfway houses. And they seemed to know the staff. There were lots of clues that this is a regular outing for the whole family. After all, if you can't afford a baby sitter? Just bring all the kids to the ER.
So I have to ask my Republican friends, who don't want a national health care plan if they think THIS is the most efficent use of our health care funds. Stack up a bunch of our poor people in Emergency Rooms, where they wait all day to get treated for something that could be better addressed in an office visit to a regular doctor, and it would cost ten times less? ER's are expensive.
Wouldn't you rather have everyone get a national health care card, and be able to see any doctor, for any minor problem and the doctor gets paid, the patient gets treated and ER's are for Emergency's?
I know what some of you are saying (and I even know which ones of you are saying it). No! Government isn't the answer. Canadians hate their health care system! They have rationing, and you can't always get treated!
OK, I'm going to ask you guys saying that, "Have you ever been to Canada (Or England, or France, or Greece, or Belize, or Mexico, or Grenada, or Cuba, or ANY where outside the USA)?" Cause if you have NOT. You need to shut the fuck up. You don't know what you're talking about. And you are believing a big old, "Faux News Lie" that they keep telling you because they want you to believe that you are getting the best, most efficent, low cost health care in the world. And it's a lie.
But don't believe me. Go to France. And if that's cost prohibitive, go to the library and find a copy of, "Deadly Spin" by Wendell Potter. For twenty years, Potter was the head of corporate communicatios for CIGNA. Dont' know who GIGNA is? Well, chances are that if your employer provides your health insurance, they are your insurance provider. They are one of the biggest.
And if you think, "Faux News" is actually news? Have someone explain what a, "library" and a, "Book" are.
Our health care system is broken in this country. And, "Obamacare" is a nice start. But it doesn't go far enough.
So the next time you're in the ER, and your kid has a broken arm, and the best they can do for you is a bag of ice and a Tylenol, while he sits there for four hours (happened to me a few years ago when my son broke his thumb at soccer practice) because the doctors are treating everyone who should be able to go to the doctor when they get sick like in every other industrialized country in the world, because he's not bleeding to death, so he'll, "keep"? Ask yourself if keeping your taxes lower, but paying outragous premiums for health insurance that could be canceled if you REALLY get sick is worth it.
Have fun in the ER. Your wait time is...
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