Breaking Yet Another Blogging Rule

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You may, or may not have, noticed over the past years that I don’t blog about my day job. The reason is simple: I don’t want to get fired. Today I break that rule, but only because I have something really nice to say and it could happen at most work sites.

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I have done shift work for a number of years. For the past 18 months I’ve been a day-worker on a shift that goes eight days on, six days off. Doing the math, you will note that I work every other weekend.

While I’m not a huge fan of that part of the deal, it does make things stable on the weekends for my employer. We’re a 24×7 operation and when you have the same two crews every weekend (there is another crew on the opposite rotation) it leads to a stable situation for the customers. ‘Nuff said about what I do and where I do it. Pretty generic.

I don’t like missing church. Because of my shift, and the time of service at my church, I only go about 2/5 of the time to my home church. Christmas season puts a big hole in my attendance, as people want Santa at their church parties, football games, etc., and there’s only five weekends in the Santa season. I miss other days due to travel, writer’s conferences, etc. But I love my church and they understand that making a living is important as well. I do attend services almost every week, just at another church that works for my schedule. God’s house is God’s house.

I also miss having Sunday dinner with my wife after church. I’m a pretty good cook and really enjoy making a special meal for us every week. But the weekends when I work it has been a time for pizza, sandwiches, and other fast food.

Until recently. A couple of months ago a few of us started having Sunday dinners at work. Started out simple, a crock pot full of chili and some bratwurst. Then it was drumsticks and potatoes in the crock pot. This last week I’m pretty sure we outdid ourselves with the meal.

I shop for the food on Friday, bring it in Saturday, and a coworker on the early shift throws it all in the pot to start it at seven in the morning Sunday. Ready to eat by 1:30 most days. Others bring a salad or desert.

The menu this week? Pork tenderloin surrounded by a bedding of maple/honey breakfast sausages, hash brown potatoes, and corn. Did I mention that I mummified the tenderloin in applewood bacon?

After cooking for five hours, I added a can of cream of celery, and a can of cream of mushroom soup to the pot. Let it simmer for about 45 minutes, and then added brown rice to soak up the extra moisture. All of this was heavily seasoned with curry, chili powder, and garlic powder.

Tuesday I finished the last of the leftovers. Rarely have I eaten so well at work for such an extended period. Best of all, it cost each of us $5.00 for the ingredients, including two loaves of French bread and butter.

It’s nice to break bread with good people. I miss my wife on those weekends, but the smell of good food wafting through the office takes a bit of sting out of those ten hour shifts.

Now if I could just figure out how to avoid doing the dishes afterward…

Be blessed and break bread with some people you love this week. And, as always, thanks for dropping by.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Ooooooooooh, I Love It When He Rants!

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Today we rant. I save these up for a long time and then dispose of them in one, giant, cathartic explosion of misanthropic bile. It is time to clear the body of ill humors.

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Let’s just go right to Facebook, the source of most of my anxiety. The following items are to be immediately banned from Facebook:

The 59th Regiment is no longer fighting in Iraq. I doubt that the last member of the 59th was anywhere near there – they vanished in around 1968. So quit asking me to share the post because they’ve been in combat for 3 solid days and those brave young men need your prayers. I know you found this on your late uncle’s timeline when you were clicking on your friends. He’s been dead for almost as long as the 59th. And it didn’t matter anyway that Justin Bieber got thousands of likes that day and why can’t these brave men get some likes.

No, I won’t keep the Santa Express going until Christmas. I hate that truck. Stupid thing has been around for years and I’m sick of seeing it – and somebody already got that little child a toy years ago.

Leave Home Depot/Menards/Target/Taco Bell, etc., alone. You weren’t there when some 19 year old jerk was rude to a veteran, or denied them a discount. First of all, I don’t remember anyone making it illegal to not give you a discount for your service. Yes, I like them when they’re offered. No, I don’t go bat-guano crazy if they don’t offer one to me. Let it die. Quit posting it – again, it’s been going around for years.

No kidding, somebody was kind enough to put a ladder up to the dumpster and let the bear get out. Great video the first two hundred times they posted it. Then again, anyone stupid enough to get that close to a wild animal that could put a serious hurt on them lacks something in the noggin. Nice gesture, but where were the other bears? Not one of them had a ladder? Seriously, if they’re that worth saving, they should mount their own rescue effort.

You, and your stupid click-bait link, should smolder in Hell for eternity. You know who you are: This amazing thing just happened and you won’t believe what Jesus did!!!!11!!1!

Pictures of your children, or any close relative, that you post to get a compliment are dangerous. Seriously, was there ever an infant that didn’t look more like Winston Churchill than your daughter?

More like him than anyone in your gene pool before 6 months.

More like him than anyone in your gene pool before 6 months.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it, but … well, I’ve no children but Stormy and she is rarely offended by your comments.
stormy, shetland sheepdog, rescue dog

She’s immune to your slights.

To my fellow authors: Yes, it’s lovely that your book is now available. I’m glad for you. But when you post that same thing every day for two months you’ve got to realize that we all write as well and putting it in the writer’s group every day is not selling many additional copies after about – once. This is not to discourage you from promoting your upcoming work in the group and looking for a launch team. That’s very much a great thing. But let’s not shill the thing every day in the writer’s forum. And, on your author page it gets a bit stale after a very short time. Try doing something that’s not for sale on your timeline. If I’m bored and I also write, can you imagine how your normal friends feel? (Be advised: when my books go on sale this goes out the window and it’s all good.)

I truly wish that the double-amputee combat veteran had read his homeowner association agreement before he bought that retirement home. I wish he could fly his flag as much as you do. But he signed a contract. End of story. Quit asking me to firebomb his association’s office or out myself as a commie. Read the fine print. Now, if it’s a city ordinance…

I will not hit share and wait 10 seconds to get my blessing. Who drew that graphic? It wasn’t your son Gerald, was it? The kid who ate dog food and thought he was a dolphin? That would explain a lot. Yes, I love Jesus, but passing that garbage on does not make me a a faithful Christian any more than not doing so makes me a worshiper of Baal.

I did read your Facebook post saying that white males are stupid, evil, vile beings. Duh, did you forget that you friended me a while ago? Thanks for the open admission that your a racist/sexist/whatever. People, use some control. If I’m (and everyone that looks like me or uses the same bathroom) that horrible, why do you also share with me the happy stuff, the pictures of your new baby (see item above) and pictures of your puppy? Drop me or act like a real friend.

I’d continue, but I need to go watch Netflix. I’m batting a thousand this past week on some seriously wonderful movies and documentaries. You can go back to Facebook. Make sure you put up that selfie from the bar. I love seeing you that way…

Until the next rant.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

The Wound Weeps.

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I’m going to ask a favor from all of you: say a kind word to someone today who’s hurting.

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What kind of hurting? I spent some quality time today with a beautiful woman who had lost her heart. She’s smart, funny, kind, strong, and devastated.

What could I do? I could pray with her. I could tell her that you can’t eat an elephant in one bite. I could do a lot of nothing for this fine person who’s young enough to be my daughter. Except try to point out how exceptional she is and that this will pass with time.

It was enough to get a smile after a while. Deep down, under all the hurt, there’s a spark that didn’t go out when her heart ruptured. She will rekindle that spark and turn it into a blazing fire down the road. She’ll someday smile at her grandchildren and hope that they never have a bad one like thisone. Because while you survive it you’re not sure you will for quite some time.

I drove home thinking about all of the people I know who are lonely, sad, divorcing, seeking, lost, hoping, and in need of that moment or two of time with someone who wants nothing from them, but is willing to share joy with them. There are a lot of them out there in this world.

I thank God that I’m not one of them. Truly, were it not for my beloved wife, I would be one of them. I was terribly shy with women before I met her all those years ago. A good indication of that is that she had to ask me to dance. She didn’t know what a can of worms she was opening with that simple request. Now she’s stuck with me. But if it weren’t for that moment 31 years ago and some change, I’d likely be in the crowd numbered above.

Am I that special that I should have a love like this? I rather doubt it. All of the people on my mind at this moment are special as well. Talented, kind, funny, mean, beautiful, ugly, and my friends. I think we all have those traits from time to time.

What should you do? Be kind when you see that hurt. Don’t rush on to the next thing on your list. Listen. Don’t fix, just listen and be a smile with eyes that don’t look away. Pray. Pray with them. Show them the abundance of love that God has shown you. Share that love: He didn’t put it in a bottle just for you to hide under a rug. You’ve got enough from Him to spread it around each day.

That’s all.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Walmart Loves Che. And Stalin. And Mao. Not So Much Hitler.

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*******Just so you know, I sat on this for one month to give Walmart a chance to quash their initial response. None arrived.*******

I’m not real good with mass murder types. I get a bit cranky when I see morons wearing them on a shirt. Che, in particular, seems to be very popular with the clueless nits that inhabit my area.

Che

Che

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I’m equally offended by others, but not too many people sport these images on their shirts. For a reason, mind you. But Che seems more acceptable to fools than Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin, and Mao.

Hitler

Hitler

Pol Pot

Pol Pot

Stalin

Stalin

Mao

Mao

All of these jackasses are displayed upside down, because they are all standing on their heads in molten donkey droppings in Hell unless I miss my bet. But the fact that anyone would put such an odious wreck of a human on their clothing baffles me. Che was working his way up the big leagues of mass murder by seeing how many people one bullet could kill. He liked killing people, just like the others.

Yet people still wear his face on their shirt. Consequently, I have begun to engage them with comments like, “Nice mass murderer shirt! Do you have one with Manson or Hitler? (Yeah, I know… Chuckie baby wasn’t a full mass-murder guru like the others, but he was still working his act out when it went south.)

At first, they like the fact that I noticed the shirt. (I also greet anyone with a USSR shirt the same way. Gulag anyone?) This quickly turns to a puzzled look when they realize what I said and are struck more stupid than usual by all that brain activity. The final stage is “Oh yeah?”

I know. Don’t expect clever retorts from minions of murder. My point is, think about what you emblazon on your chest. You might just find some obnoxious history buff that wants to humiliate you. I’m normally genteel and ignore most stupid people with slogan shirts designed to offend. But marxist murder maggots do not get the pass on this one.

Just think how lovely it would be if we all wrote a note to Walmart today and asked why they carry all that Che crap on their website! See, there is something you can do today that doesn’t involve face-to-face confrontation of morons!

Well, I did write. And I got an answer. Really fast. Here it is (You will note that I was upfront about seeking a comment for publication):

Customer email (09/07/2015 12:16 AM)
I”m curious why you are selling Che Guevara items such as his poster on your website. He’s a wretched historical character who was a mass murderer of hundreds of Cubans. I’ll be writing about it on my blog soon, and wondered if you’d care to comment.

http://www.walmart.com/search/?query=che%20guevara%20

Here’s the response:

Recently you requested personal assistance from Walmart.com Customer Care.
Below is our response and a summary of your request.

Reference#: 150907-000028
Response email (09/07/2015 01:24 AM)
Hi Joseph,

Thank you for contacting Walmart.com. We do totally understand, unfortunately we sell those items due to popular demand and they are part of our inventory now. We never want to offend anyone with the products that we offer.

Sincerely,

Aryel D.

Walmart.com Customer Care

Well, good to see commerce rolls on to the victory of the people! I went back to walmart.com and did some more searching. To nobody’s surprise, there was nothing favorable about Hitler. One poster from a movie that was iffy, but it didn’t look especially worshipful.

On the other hand, they did carry a nice assortment of merchandise about Stalin and Mao. Some of it very pricey. Most of it lauding the two mass murder suspects that outstripped Hitler by millions of victims. I think it’s just an oversight, but they didn’t have any kind of Pol Pot merchandise. Get hot, Walmart, there’s money to be made there I’m sure.

Are you ticked off yet? Walmart, in their defense, probably has no clue at a corporate level that they sell this crap. They also, unless I miss my guess, don’t authorize customer service employees who work at One in the morning on Labor Day to respond to queries like this one.

That does not, however, change the fact that they stock this garbage in their product line. I have the strangest feeling that if you share this post with your friends, and encourage them to contact Walmart about this merchandise, they will have a change of heart.

Tell them I sent you – I need the publicity.

********* ********** *********** ***********

I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Fear The Walking Dead Needs A Bolt To The Forehead. I Didn’t Realize The Title Was About The Acting.

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(@@@***WARNING: PLOT SPOILERS***@@@)

I like zombies. I am partially responsible for Amish Zombies from Space (So Kerry said before publication – I was getting the blame if it failed. All because I said, “Any idiot can do Amish Vampires. Show me some zombies and…)

The fact is, I looked forward to Fear The Walking Dead the minute it was revealed. Now I pray that it ends in the season finale with a nuke that takes out the whole cast.

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits!

I will never be mistaken for Al Pacino in my acting. I’m okay with a one-liner, being Santa, even the “angry guy.” But not a real actor in that sense. I now realize that I missed out by not bugging my agent to get me into the casting room for this series. I can see the casting call specs:

Wooden personalities are a must. If you cannot portray a stereotype, don’t come to the audition. We desire that each cast member be able to mumble dialogue and give a perplexed look on command. We do require one Latino good guy, one Latino bad guy. All other characters are open to ethnicity. Women must either be very hot or die early on. No prudes, we’ll be doing our best to titillate.

For the love of all that is drama, could we just not do this any more? I was rooting for a main character to fire a sniper rifle in the last episode. The way he held it it would have torn his eye out and dislocated his shoulder. That means he dies. That means he comes back as a zombie. Excellent. One down. Sadly the psychopath military officer (I noticed the army advertised during this hour – bet that won’t happen again) shamed him down and snuffed the zombie.

Everyone in this deserves to die. Weapons handling is badly done. The soldiers couldn’t spot a Peterbilt sneaking up on them with its jake-brakes flapping. Did I mention the psychopath barber who tortures the young soldier? Or the simpleminded teenagers?

I also want to know where the Army got all those miles of fencing and put them up in the time frame of the story? They must have imported them from the former East Germany. Goodness, it would cost a lot of money and take months…. duh.

Power – how handy that the locals get rationed light at their homes. And abandoned buildings in the “dead zone.” Uh, I think the utility can cut that grid out and save a lot on the load.

I do like the unit patches on the soldiers. National Guard, notionally, yet they have combat patches from established units. This group of “babies” as they are called by the nutso Lieutenant in charge. It’s clear they are not combat vets – so what the heck is with the 10th Mountain patch?

Etc.

Tonight I will sleep knowing that AMC will pull the plug on this or retool it. The original Walking Dead is fun. Fear The Walking Dead is just tedious.

Bleh. It gets 2 out of 5 stars. But only because one of the cast, Elizabeth Rodriguez, was in Orange Is The New Black. That’s it.

********* ********** *********** ***********

I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.