Timely Advice

As mentioned earlier, The Boy is a good communicator with a great vocabulary. As such, I fully expected him to become a lawyer or some such. I was surprised, then, when he told me that he decided to join the Air Force. Family tradition and all, but it still surprised me.

After graduation from university, he was assigned to train to be a missile officer… yes, the fruit of MY loins—with half of my chromosomes running rampant, controlling his thought processes—was going to be one of the guys with his finger on the key of our nuclear arsenal. Scared yet? Well I am. Now are you scared? *

On arrival at his training, they (you know [mysterious music plays]…”THEY”) gave him a stack of technical manuals big enough to fill a small suitcase. No, he didn’t have to memorize them. But he did have to become familiar enough with them to be able to find any section quickly. And, being a focused student, dove into that task and started reading.

Early into his training, The Boy sent me an e-mail with an important safety tip we all should read and heed:

Per the Manual: “Do NOT use nuclear weapons to troubleshoot equipment faults”.

The Boy writes further: “In case you were considering it, you should know that it is officially forbidden. You can tell they are serious because they capitalized ‘NOT.'”

I thanked The Boy profusely for this advice and told him it was quite timely as I was *just* about to troubleshoot a broken water heater with a spare nuclear warhead I have laying about in my basement. [Whew!] That was close.

So, I pass along this information in hopes that you take that safety tip to heart the next time your toaster acts up.

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*Okay, that was typed for the giggle effect. Yeah, I’m his Father, very biased in his favor, and proud of him. But, besides that, I feel very secure that he is the right guy—attitude, brains, and, especially, ethics—for this job.

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Priestly Pranks

…no, not “that” kind.  The Church is still paying through the nose for all of “those” kinds of pranks played by its priests.

Girl Child is home from University and spreading her time between her mother, me, and her friends (as well as the occasional odd job to earn cash to support her world wandering habits).  She shared a story from a dinner visit to one of her friends. 

Now, Girl Child is a vegetarian.  Not a militant vegetarian, but she’ll avoid any ‘beastly’ products that she can.  She was visiting one of her Irish dance buddies and was invited to stay for dinner.  They knew of her veggie tendencies, with her friend’s younger brother teasing her about being a vegetarian being “just wrong”.  Also at the dinner was the priest that recently married Daughter Person’s friend.  Unsurprisingly, the priest was asked to say “Grace” before the meal.  As Girl Child described it – – –

“Dear Lord, thank you for us being able to gather together here.  Thank you for the friendship of those around this table.  Oh, and especially thank you for providing us with animals.  Thank you for the cow, from whom we get tasty beef.  Thank you for the pig and his bacon, pork, and ribs, juicy and succulent.  Thank you for the deer, the chicken, and other manners of animals from whom we get delicious meat products that we may enjoy at our mealtimes.  Amen!”

Who said priests don’t have a sense of humor…

Noted

A recent university study examined what women find attractive in a man, as affected by their menstrual cycle…

The results were stunningly clear and consistent across 95.8% of women…

When a woman is ovulating, she is looking for a man who is ruggedly handsome.

When a woman is menstruating, she is looking for a man with duct tape across his mouth, a spear in his chest, lit on fire, and leaving her the hell alone.

No further studies of this phenomena are planned…

(and, oh hell no, i didn’t write this, but had to pass it along…if nothing else to warn the still clueless men out there who don’t understand this basic principle)

Entertainment in The Wilds

Okay, so here I am on the frontier of a whole lot of not much – flat plains and lots of good old, wholesome, middle America common sense.

…but we sure can have some fun…

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Woman Wearing Cow Suit Charged With Disorderly Conduct

MIDDLETOWN — A Middletown woman is accused of being disorderly in public — while wearing a cow suit.

 

A police report filed about the incident said Michelle Allen allegedly chased children in her neighborhood while wearing the suit on Monday evening.

 

Allen also urinated on a neighbor’s front porch, the report said, and was warned by officers to go home and stay there.

 

Allen was charged with disorderly conduct after an officer found her causing traffic problems on North Verity Parkway.

 

The officer’s report stated that Allen was verbally abusive to him on the trip to jail and smelled of alcohol.

 

The report did not speculate as to why Allen was wearing the cow suit.

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That last line makes me pause and, in the words of Stephanie, give a questioning “Barooo?”. 

Does this happen enough in The Wilds that the police forces just yawn at ‘yet another woman in a cow suit’?  Hmmm…

Nonetheless, I’m thinking that, once I can find me a bull costume, that woman and I can do some down home fun partying…

Apoidea Anger

…(and still being in avoidance of The D Word issues, a quick and brainless story)…

Daughter Person (… yes, and Spousal Unit [heavy sigh]) have returned from visiting family. My virtual vacation is over. But, nonetheless, it is very good to see the Girl Child again.

More stories to come from her about her trip, I’m sure, but the first one she told me about had to be shared.

Daughter Person, though of adult age (just), is still my daughter. So, when she wears a pair of pants that rides all the way down to just north of her hoo-hoo forest… or wears shorts that are cut so short that an ill-timed bend-over would run the chance of revealing more than just her modesty… my Dad genes take over and I chastise her choice, suggesting she wear something much less revealing

(Ed. Note: As a side thought… I do realize the irony of chiding the Girl Child over wearing such clothes while knowing–and accepting–that my still active hormones likewise cause me to seek out just such revealing costumery in women more of my age… okay, within 15 years of my age. I’m a mess and admit it…).

So Girl Child shares that she was wearing one of her too short shorts while taking a side trip yesterday. On getting back in the car, she unknowingly let a bee (species Apoidea… there’s the title reference!) into the car.

Girl Child: …but that’s not the worst of it, Dad. It somehow landed on the seat just before I sat down.

GnuKid: Ooo, did it sting you on your “Byew-tocks*”?

Girl Child: No [wince]… it stung me in my crotchal region…

Ouch! (but serves her right for wearing those shorts!) [and Pop is proud of Daughter Person adjectivizing those nouns…{chuckle}…’crotchal’…]

And, yeah, she’s feeling just fine…

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*This pronunciation of ‘buttocks’ is an affectation I picked up from watching Lee Marvin in the movie “Cat Ballou”.

Our Electoral Process

As we U.S.-ians…U.S.-ites?… gather later this month to select Presidential candidates to select from… I offer the following public service to my fellow Blog-lings…Blog-ettes?… and will venture to explain, briefly and succinctly, the American electoral process. Or at least I’ll do my best – – –

This is a highly complex issue which is typically beyond the normal mortal’s understanding, but being I’ve already assured myself that none of you visiting my blog are ‘normal’, I feel safe in continuing.

Presidential nominees are chosen through intense analytical study by several unpleasant 5^th grade children who examine the tides, the World Cup schedule, summer TV reruns, vacation plans of Oprah (to accommodate), vacation plans of everyone else (to screw up), and skewed results of throwing defective darts at a collage of photographs of political contenders.

These are all added together, divided by pi (filled with strawberries and using 3.14159 as an approximation), corpusculated using imaginary numbers (e.g., eleventeen), then hamstrung and hung to dry @ 350 degrees for 2 ½ hours, basted with a light wine sauce, then planted in even rows 12” to 15” apart using the 99.5% confidence variability rule of the Geneva Convention on cruel and unusual warfare. At that point, whoever has the most money wins the nomination.

Any further assistance I can give in understanding this arcane and mysterious logic would likely require me to delve into fantasy and science fiction. It wouldn’t be pretty.

Thank you for your attention and I hope this clears it up once and for all.

Update – Assassin Squirrels

We interrupt the whimsical, comedic hit soap opera which normally airs at this time to bring you this serious news update to our Assassin Squirrel story – –

The Assassin Squirrel scourge is, unfortunately, still with us. However, an elite Homeland Security organization is taking steps to track down these furry terrorists and dispatch them. With swift and lethal action, this team is ensuring our safety and future livelihoods. God bless them…

The self-declared evil leadership responsible for the legion of Assassin Squirrels, purported to go by “UK”, could not be reached for comment.

We will keep you apprised of further updates to this important, serious news story.

…and now, back to the comedic stylings of GnuKid’s popular “Life’s Soap Opera”…