This can’t be real
It used to be, “The right way, the wrong way and the Army way”. We can now add to that, “The VA way”. The bureaucrats at the Veterans Administration hospital have changed the simple instruction of, ‘Pee in the cup” to a six step, fully illustrated poster prominently displayed on the bathroom walls complete with a plastic cover. I guess the cover is for those folks who get a little over enthusiastic or have poor aim.
I must say that the instructions clear things up considerably for me and will go a long way to eliminate the embarrassment of many of we ex-GIs who you see wandering the halls with suspicious wet stains on our trousers. I never would have guessed that Step #1 had to do with unbuttoning your fly. I guess you learn something new every day.
Come on VAers, it only takes six commands to unload an entire planeload of paratroopers into the “sky above”. The most important one, Number 2, “Hook Up” is the only one that really needs personal attention. The jumpmasters with some manhandling and a swift kick can handle the rest.
Another of these helpful instructions is in many government reports. It is currently the rage to label blank pages with “This page intentionally left blank”. This label can be found at the top and sometimes the bottom of the page. What is left out is, “…because you are too dumb to recognize a blank page and need to be told”.
Maybe it is a good thing. Imagine the time I could have saved when I was reading a report, came to a blank page, and spent hours staring at it blankly. Finally, after much contemplation, I would cautiously turn the page and ‘Behold’ more words would be there.
I guess when critics call a book, “A real page turner”; it means that there are a lot of blank pages.
Another thing I cannot get my head around is the four-way stop at a crossroad. Should not the desired results occur if you just put up two stop signs?
There is also a savings to the town because those signs have to be expensive, unless, of course, that one of the politicos has a relative in the sign business or is on the vig.
The two recent fads on TV have got me confused. The first is the popularity of the so-called ‘reality’ shows. If any of that is real then slap my bottom and call me ‘Snooki’.
The other show that has me dumbfounded is the ones dealing with UFOs and monsters. The producers of these shows are so much at a loss for material that there is one entitled, “UFOs in the Bible”. I am not the most religious person, but that one smacks of blasphemy.
I would like to go on record that Big Foot, the Yeti, the Jersey Devil, the South Carolina Democrat, et.al. should be put on the endangered species list and we all can get some peace. © 2012, Jim McGowan
Lá Fhéile Pádraig Shona
I thought we would explore the legends associated with the Patron Saint of Ireland, the well-known and loved Saint Padriag.
First off, let us cover the one about driving all the snakes out of Ireland. You might just as well say that he drove out all the elephants, or unicorns or jackalopes. Ireland had no snakes. The best they can come up with is a creepy creature called the ‘slow worm’. It is an oversized earthworm good for fish bait and little else. There are still plenty of them there.
The snake legend is loosely connected to the Adam and Eve Bible story. I still maintain that if Eve would have ate the snake instead of the apple we would all be in better shape. At any rate since then snakes have gotten a bad rep and I do not expect to see any kid’s books staring ‘Sidney the Singing Snake’.
Another legend concerns Judgment Day. According to this one Jesus will judge everyone, but the Irish. We Harps will be judge by Saint Patrick. I want to go on record that I want a change of venue. I would have a fighting chance with the Lamb of God. However, Patrick had a bit of temper and did not mind showing it. With Saint P on the bench I figure I am going to spend eternity shoveling coal.
Saint Patrick is credited with converting the inhabitants of the Emerald Isle to Christianity. Well, yeah, kind of I suppose. If you have ever met a more superstitious group of people I have never heard of them. We have banshees, leprechauns and even a prayer that goes “From ghoulies and ghosties and long leggety beasties and things that go bump in the night, Good Lord deliver us”.
I am even called “Black Irish”. Not Shaquile O’Neal or Kobe Bryant black, but being dark haired and dark eyed and of short stature I am supposed to be descended from the original Irish who had mysterious and magical ways.
Not that tall, redheaded, blue-eyed folks like Conan O’Brien are not as Irish as Paddy’s pig. Nevertheless, you can bet there was a Viking or two in his woodpile.
So since there are only two more shopping days until Saint Patrick’s Day and you have not picked out my gift, not to worry. Just drop off the cash in small, non-sequential, unmarked bills at the newspaper office and we will have a dram of ‘Holy Water’ in honor of the Saint. That is if you bring the bottle.
Everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick’s Day. That is not to say you are authorized to do something stupid involving the drink. Go to the parades and the festivals and have a great time. However, if you are going to add alcohol to the mix (Remember that the Irish invented whiskey.) Please make sure you have a designated driver or if not get a taxi.
Saint Patrick died on March 17. There is no reason why you should.© 2012, Jim McGowan
Grandfather’s skills
My son John is scheduled to come back from Afghanistan in May. The planners say it might be anywhere between the 10th and 24th of May. (Please do not get me started on the ability of Army planners to set a schedule. Just think of the havoc if General Eisenhower said D-Day was going to be between June 3 and June 17.)
John asked if I could sit on the babies while his wife, Erica came up to Knoxville, Tenn. while he out-processed. I suggested that they take a few days extra to get reacquainted.
I realize that Knoxville is not on par with Paris or Venice, of course, I am speaking of Paris, Idaho or Venice, Utah, but at least they would be alone.
I told them I would be more than happy to do so since I had some grandfatherly responsibilities to fulfill and would use the time to do so.
Education and the passing on of skills to the future generations are on the top of the Grandfather’s To-Do List.
There are the usual outdoor skills. The lads will need to learn basic knot tying, proper choice of bait, and how to cast. They are a bit young for firearms, but tracking and learning the habits of various critters is important. How to set up a proper camp and canoe safety are also necessary abilities.
Just looking over the above list, I’m exhausted. I’ll just enlist them in the Boy Scouts and we can concentrate on the true McGowan education.
Geometry and its application comes in handy. A three-rail bank shot is a game winner, but takes a good deal of practice. Mathematics is very useful. Card counting in a blackjack may be frowned upon by the house, but until they throw you out you have the edge.
Basic mechanics is a life skill. We will start with how to remove a hubcap without making noise thereby attracting unwanted attention. Later we will move on to other automotive skills that do not require keys, but a familiarity with a car’s electrical system.
The laws of probability must be learned. If not, one can do foolish and costly things in a seven-card stud game. The difference between an Exacta and a Trifecta must be learned or it will be a long walk home from the track, therefore statistics comes to the fore.
Let us not forget chemistry. Making a Perfect Manhattan is no easy thing and becomes progressively harder with each consecutive attempt.
Obviously the kids are going to go through their lunch money before they get the hang of things so, I need to brush up on my peanie boo and jel-jel sandwich skills.
I related all of my intentions on to their father and this is how he replied, “Thanks Dad,
It means a lot to me. You can teach the kids anything you want, as long as it isn’t explosive and they make it school on time”.
I guess he knows his old ‘da’ pretty well. © 2012 Jim McGowan
Terminal writer’s cramp
The lawyers in Denver have managed to make the hamburger illegal. I was changing planes in Denver and had about a two-hour layover. I was headed for Atlanta and my luggage was going to Chicago.
I was feeling a bit peckish and so I went into one of the many restaurants on the concourse. Being in the middle of cattle country, I had my mouth set for a big, juicy hamburger.
I prefer mine grilled medium-rare, closer to rare then medium, and I told the waitress so. She looked at me as if I had asked for a bowl of cream of tarantula soup. I was firmly told that the only way they would cook a hamburger was well done. I would sooner eat a charcoal briquette so I went ahead and ordered the soup.
However, I did ask, “Who is cooking back there, the lawyers?”
What brought the diatribe about cooks in pin stripes is that I am in the process of attempting to buy a house. This should be a rather straightforward process, but I was wrong again.
The first set of documents I had to sign required my signature and/or initials 23 times. This was merely the offer from me the buyer (Read ‘chump’) to the seller. Next came the loan application. This little tome ran to 35 pages with the appropriate amount of signatures and a nearly terminal case of ‘writer’s cramp’.
Keep in mind we have yet to close on the purchase since there are some needed repairs that have to be done. After all, no one wants to buy a wrecked house. I want the pleasure of seeing my grandkids wreck it.
The closing guarantees to be a writer’s marathon and those papers are usually brought to the closing in a wheelbarrow.
Ostensibly, the paperwork is to make everything clear and above board. However, when you get to the point that requires enough paper to clear an acre’s worth of pulp wood clarity goes right out of the sub-standard window.
Brevity and lawyer’s briefs have a different meaning on Planet Suit and it has nothing to do with getting directly down to business.
I would like to remind the legal beagles that on September 2, 1945 on the deck of the USS Missouri the entire Japanese Empire, or what was left of it, unconditionally surrendered to the Allies on one sheet of paper. General MacArthur even supplied the pens.
Think of it. We got all the sushi recipes (catch fish and chew), the bad beer, and the even worse music. OK so it was sorry shape and still smoking in places, but the whole mess was ours with a couple of pen strokes.
So, I am left standing by waiting to see if I get to do another favorite thing of mine, moving. You will be able to tell if the deal went through from a distance.
I will be the one with his right arm in a sling and hands covered in paper cuts.© 2012, Jim McGowan
Confused fish
Here it is Thursday and if you are able to read this, you are well on your way to recovery from your Mardi Gras hangover. In a week or two, you should be able to sit up and take some soup.
I love Mardi Gras and I agree with, “Laissez les bons temps rouler” as the locals say. Admittedly, the city of New Orleans is crammed with tourists, but who cares? I firmly believe that everyone should go to Mardi Gras at least once in his or her lives. But, I do have a few travel tips.
Use public transportation to get there. The Big Easy is not parking friendly and if you are lucky enough to find a parking spot what or whom you will find draped over the hood of your car will reduce its resale value considerably.
Under no circumstance bring the kids along. By ‘kids’ I mean anybody under the age of 25. If you do make this mistake the money you will have to spend for the child’s therapy is going to set you back considerably. Trying to explain why your 8-year-old daughter has a ‘Bons Temps’ tattoo is not possible even to the most understanding grandparents and is an open invitation to future disasters.
If you want a family-friendly Mardi Gras go to Mobile, Ala. They are the originators of the celebration and pride themselves on keeping the lid on things. I suppose there is a place for respectability.
On a smaller scale is the Saint Patrick’s Day celebration in Savannah. I am very familiar with this one. There is a parade in the morning and a mass stagger for the rest of the day down on River Street.
The police have their patrol boats out fishing the drunks that fall in the river and as gently as possible heave them back on the River Walk. They dye the river green that confuses the daylights out of the fish. The green water combined with all the booze that is accidently poured into the river definitely gets the ‘Irish up’ on the tree-hugger types. But, tough buns PETA, Savannah is an Irish town.
Just down river from Savannah is Tybee Island. They too have a festival of considerable enthusiasm. ‘Tacky Tybee’ as the locals know it, has a celebration on the weekend after the Labor Day Weekend.
Surprisingly it has something in common with the Ground Hog Day celebration in Pennsylvania. Where Punxsutawney Phil is dragged out of his den and if he sees his shadow there will six more weeks of winter. In Tybee they drag the mayor out favorite saloon and if he sees a tourist there will be six more weeks of summer.
Consequently, no one wearing knee high socks and sandals, cargo shorts, loud Hawaiian shirts, the white goop people put on their nose, a broad brimmed hat, and a fanny pack is allowed on the island.
A word of caution, only do one a year. A liver can only take so much. © 2012, Jim McGowan
PhD doesn’t always mean Doctor
My taste in TV runs towards the educational and science programs. No not “Sesame Street” nor “Dora the Explorer”, but stuff on the History Channel or Science Channel and the likes.
However, if you believe what you see we have had the schnitzel. The PhDs that interviewed in these programs have a few things in common.
First, the PhD that follows their names must stand for ‘Piled high and Deep’. Second, about 90% of these eggheads haven’t seen the inside of a barber shop in years and they all, men and women, need to stand a little closer to the razor. (A personal note to the Docs, Indiana Jones called and he wants his hat back.)
But, the oddest thing is they all describe the various ways we are going to be destroyed with smiles on their faces.
One of the most popular ways we are going to get it is in a meteor shower. So, you better be wearing a helmet indoors and out. Forget about driving anywhere because your car is going to be pounded down to four inches high and your yard is going to be turned into a crater-strewn rock garden.
If meteors are the ones with you name on it the next favorite is the one that is addressed, “To whom it may concern”, the comet. When a comet hits everybody gets it and if a portion of the earth survives only the cockroaches will be left. Sort of like NYC without the traffic.
Another space disaster is our Sun explodes into a supernova or a Chevy Nova or does the Bossa Nova. Anyway we are all going to be fried, even the cockroaches. But don’t run out and get the tanning lotion with 10,000 SPF. It isn’t due to happen for another three billion years.
Closer to home is when Yellowstone Park and all of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming explode into the biggest volcano ever and cover your rock garden with 12 feet of ash. If the blast doesn’t get you that diet you have been meaning to go on has started. The science nerds say we are overdue on that one.
Let us not forget the ever lovely and popular global warming. The pocket protector set is divided on this one. Some say that Miami will be the new snowboarding destination and others that Milwaukee will be in the banana belt. Denver becoming beachfront property is also frequently mentioned.
Other possible extinctions are mega-earthquakes, nuclear war, and running out of fresh water to name a few.
The Mayans predict that the world will end on December 21 this year. What a bunch of wet blankets, but that explains why you never see them at parties. However, I wouldn’t max out my credit cards just yet.
These are all scary best guesses, but there is one disaster that is guaranteed. If President Obama is reelected on November 6 you can bet that our world is going to change and not, I believe, for the better © 2012, Jim McGowan
They are all dripping wet
“Newt Gingrich puts mayonnaise on his grits”, is a claim allegedly made by ‘Mittens’ Romney. The Salamander Man responded in kind by supposedly stating that, “Romney doesn’t change his socks for weeks on end”.
Mayonnaise, really? The mere thought of such a travesty induces a gag reflex. Newt is from Georgia where putting such goop on grits is a Class II Felony punishable by three years imprisonment being fed nothing but Cream of Wheat.
Moreover, who can’t admit that they haven’t, for the odd week or two, gone forgetfully not changing their socks? (An old sock-changing joke: The Sergeant comes up to his squad who has been in the field for a month and tells the men. “We are going to change socks today” A faint, sarcastic “Yea” comes from the troops. He goes on, “Johnson you change with Billings, O’Neal you change with Jennings…”)
“Mitt Romney picks his nose up to his third knuckle.” This statement was attributed to the Gingrich people by a highly placed unnamed source. Let us consider the anatomy of this remark. Either Romney has very short fingers or his snot locker is comparable to theMammothCaves.
“Newt Gingrich cheats at golf.” Well, who doesn’t? Golf scores, fish stories and such literature as, “The Wizard of Oz” all go under the heading of pure fantasy. Even Pope Benedict somehow manages to loose the ability to add when he walks off the green.
The above diatribe is based how badly the Republican Nomination campaign has degenerated.
A bad part of my job requires me to watch what is laughingly referred to as ‘debates’. If these things are debates than TV quiz shows are college lectures.
I can tell you that Newt Gingrich played fast and loose with the portion of the wedding vow that goes, “…in sickness and in health”. I can also tell you that Romney’s investment company bought up various businesses gutted them and laid-off hundreds of workers.
However, I have a difficult time of relating any of the front-runners’ position on such topics as; social security, Medicare, international trade, the war in Afghanistan or illegal immigration.
On the Democrat Party side they are just eating this up. The mud slinging plays perfectly into their hands.
Here are their opponents doing all the dirt digging and the liberals have to merely sit by and take notes. When the general campaign rolls around they will have all the ammunition they need.
The character assassination, the likes of which would make John Wilkes Booth spin in his grave, is complete. All they have to do is put a positive spin on everything they have done; promise to give away the rest of the house, fire everyone in the Immigration and Nationalization Service and sit back and count the votes that they have bought and paid for with the tax payers money.
I would like to quote a word of warning that was told to me by the nuns, “In a p…..g contest, everybody gets wet”. © 2012, Jim McGowan
