Pirate Journal

A Letter to Fred Thompson

2007-10-04T13:33:00.001-07:00

Fred Thompson we love you when you play the sober, less-then- wordy characters of wisdom on television and in the movies. We love your down home folksy drawl and your homespun wisdom on a variety of issues. We love your Southern pace to politics and the way you view the world and in particular this country. But something is missing.
When you first floated the idea that you were considering a run at the presidency conservative's hearts began to race, their hopes were peaked, and the fear of the Republican Party moving further to the left then most conservatives were comfortable with began to ebb. We all knew we had a contender in the conservative corner. We had a chance to keep the White House in the hands of the Republican Party and best of all in the hands of a conservative who could right the ship.
The liberals were worried as well. Shortly after your announcement on Fox News the stories of your sexual preferences began to show up all over the internet. Liberals fearing you began to use manipulated photos of you in dresses and other compromising situations. Then the liberal's research improved and they realized you were now married. The stories went from the closet gay Republican slant to a man that ran off from his wife of many years with a new "trophy wife".
Once the spin on your "closet trophy wife" seemed not to deter those on the right from booking advance tickets for your inauguration ball, claims that you were a lazy country bumpkin of a legislature and you had made sure your sons of your first marriage had made lots of money from your connections began to make the rounds. These stories still did not deter those of us that were now looking into motel rooms in Minneapolis, so we could attend the convention. The claims that you were an effective lobbyist made us feel even surer you would be the conservative we are seeking.
Maybe the build up gave us too much hope? Maybe we were expecting a lot more then you even intended to provide? Maybe we thought your picture on your blog was prettier then you turned out to be? I am not sure what it was but something has to be rewritten in the script or this blockbuster is going to be tossed into the ash heap alongside Ishtar and Heaven's Gate.
Since I am only a conservative voter and not a "Political Strategist", you can take these suggestions and do with them what ever you would like.
When asked why you want to be President. It is not enough to refer to your children's future and vaguely say that you think there are things that need to be done, and in order to do them you need to be the President. You need to be less ambiguous and with fervor, you need to hit on several salient bullet points why you should be the President.
For example:
I will assure the American people that our military will stay strong, readily prepared, well equipped and competently administered.
As President I will remain vigilant in the mission of preventing the Islamic fascists and any nation that subsidies their weapon of hate from inflicting any more harm on our nation abroad and on our soil.
I will tighten up the borders, the shipping yards and any other ports of entry to assure that those who come into our nation are welcomed and not here to create problems.
I will keep the economy strong and the revenues coming in by sustaining the soon to sunset tax cuts of President Bush's and implementing additional tax cuts to sustain growth and encourage capital investment.
I will correct the upcoming issues that will bankrupt the Social Security system in the next decade and hold the feet of the opposition to that correction, to the fire. This is a third wire that needs corrected or it will not be there in the next couple of decades. And as a nation we will have broken a promise.
I will pursue means to assure that health care is accessible to all Americans through with as little government intervention as possible, protecting those who "truly" require a safety net and keeping excessive government spending to a minimum.
Any salient bullet points of this nature would work and it will allow those who want you to be president to comfortably rattle them off in their sleep.
Some additional things you may want to think about. When you have others go onto shows to carry out your message, utilize those who can articulate your message and can inspire those who are listening. There are many spokespeople in this country that can do a better job then Mary Matalin in conveying your message. She is an excellent surveyor of the political horizon but her zeal is lacking. Recently, in an interview with Laura Ingraham, Mary struggled with conveying even one idea of why you should be President. Even with guidance from Laura, Mary could not clearly articulate one bullet point. The reasons have to be down pat and readily conveyed by your spokesperson. Or the interest of looking toward you as a leader will wane.
And not to belittle this point, because I say this in all honesty, leave the kids with a sitter when you are doing interviews. At least until we get to know you and your wife better. The interview with Sean Hannity with your lovely little daughter on your lap made people feel uncomfortable. It is obvious you are a strong man that has a gentle side and possess bundles of love for your family, but we are looking for a President that is focused and can keep this country on the right road. When your child is sitting on your lap when we first meet you it is akin to having a job interview with someone and their cell phone keeps ringing. No matter how much we like you our attention begins to wander.
As we get to know you better and we are comfortable with your message, the photo ops with kids will endear the country toward you. But let us get to know you better first.
In this trying time with so many dangers ahead for our country we need a leader that has the ability to be a true bi-partisan. Not a bi-partisan in the mold of being over compromising but one that can clearly explain to the opposition where we need to go and the nation will line up behind you. Reagan was a master at this. He was able to take his position to the people and explain why something had to be pursued. Even if the opposition persists the people will be comfortable with your direction. You have also proven that you can be above this partisanship with your early experiences in Washington during the Watergate hearings. You were able to overlook the shared party with the standing President and ask tough questions that eventually made it impossible for a corrupt President to continue. So use that aspect of your character and make it clear you want to be America's President and not a Republican President.
Good luck.

Politico

2007-08-24T09:06:00.000-07:00

I recently found a new playground. A place where one of my loves, politics can be discussed, argued and at times thrown right into your face. Essentially, Politico is a blog where a gaggle of average reporters that keep an eye (half open I might add) on the political scene. The writers or reporters post several stories per day, then open the venue to comments.

The comments is where the fun exists. An array of folks assume a moniker and hide behind an icon of their choosing and then chime in. If you are a smart ass like the Pirate, sandboxes like Politico are excellent places to play. You can do all kinds of things in the sandbox. You can build castles, dig tunnels, or which seems to be some people's favorite throw sand in each other's face. I have tried several of these depending on the subject, my mood or the mood of those participating that day.

Politico is also a great place to meet some real intelligent folks from both sides of an argument but you should be warned if you visit there are many that will tear your heart out. If you are not thick skinned it might be a good place to participate as a reader only and not wade in with your opinion.

Politico tends to use a few magnet characters to generate long threads of debate, discussion or mud slinging. Obviously Hillary and Obama tend to generate a lot of debate as does newly retiring Karl Rove. Interestingly Fred Thompson seems to generate long threads where Rudy and Mitt's tend to be less interesting. I have no idea if this means anything or not.

I think Fred Thompson's stories attract so many comments because the Republicans are in search of someone that can hand Hillary her head this next year and the Democrats are worried that might be the case.

If you are ever in the Politico sandbox feel welcome to badmouth or chime in with support for that guy "Right-minded Frank". He seems to know his stuff if the Pirate has to say so himself.

If you do find Politico to be the place to stop by on occassion let me know so I can add you to my friends or don't let me know and pick a fight with me and see if I can figure out who you are.

I better get some work done today or Mrs. Pirate is going to make me go shopping with her. I hate shopping unless I am gettging a new toy.

By the way Can O' Corn gave me a new Jolly Roger's flag that proudly flies over my desk. Arrrghhh.

How does one defend Vick?

2007-08-22T08:12:00.000-07:00

Last night I was watching the Fair and Balanced network's version of point/counterpoint and they had a Professor Jeffrey Standen of Willamette University in Salem, Oregon discuss his defense of Michael Vick's dog fighting. So I immediately went to his blog at thesportslawprofessor.blogspot.com to see what it takes to be invited on the Hannity and Combs show to discuss such innane topics as Vick and his homies conducting dog fights.

To my amazement Professor Standen wrote the post prior to Vick pleading guilty, so much of the post is irrelevent today, but Standen "really" did not defend Vick for his actions. He just demoted the action of dog fighting to a "Boys will be boys" fiasco.

Professor Standen actually tried to equate dog fighting with cock-fighting, bullfighting and bird hunting as well as cage fighting. He contended that when the facts came out, the truth will be all about nothing. That what Vick did was not illegal and his cohorts (homies) were bribed by the prosecutors to turn on their money man, Vick. Vick was simply involved in nothing more then seedy behavoir. He's just a bad boy, nothing more.

Why should Vick lose his career over the rest of us being so prudish? He also nodded toward Kobe Bryant for his climb back to icon status after the accussations of rape. You know as soon as the legal system and the applied pressure is done with the story it always comes out that there was really nothing to it.

Professor Standen appeared to be a nice enough sort and since many of my attorney friends here in Salem attended college at Willamette it might turn out that Standen and I have mutual friends. But his interview on Hannity and Combs botherd me on several levels aside from Combs not letting him speak or clarify himself, he also seem to think there should be some tolerance in these types of perdicaments the athletes find themselves in.

First and foremost does such a terrible behavior, as dog fighting, have to be illegal before you are disgusted with it? To think a man that has many young children looking up at him and fantasizing of being Michael Vick on the gridiron, would involve himself of such barbaric behavoir. To think he could keep a smug smile on his face as he walked past a horde of cameras knowing darn good and well it was all true. To think he was never outwardly bothered about his actions, amazes me of what type of human being Vick must really be. What kind of man could be like this? A sick one if you ask me.

Secondly, if Vick is involved in an illegal gambling circuit, that is all that is needed to remove him from professional sports. The gambling alone puts Vick in a position to taint the game of professional football where its paying customers deserve much better. We football fans that spend "our" dollars on the entertainment, have a right to be disgusted, when we find out one of those we are filling the pockets with millions of dollars is a sick, ill-adjusted excuse of a human being. We also have the right to express our disgust to the NFL and demand they either put up with our discontent for keeping the guy around or get rid of him.

I am not saying he participated in gambling on football but to put himself in the arena of betting on dog fighting only seperates him from being influenced by outside interests by a micro-thin veneer of false-intigrity.

So Professor, what Vick did might equate to bullfighting or cage fighting in many peoples minds but it is more disgusting then eating your neighbor's cat. Of which I am sure may not be illegal either but might get your butt ran out of the neighborhood.

Lastly, how does a blog that only gets maybe 5 hits per week get the author on Hannity and Combs?

New house is not like the old house

2007-08-14T13:03:00.000-07:00

The Pirate family has been trying to sale our house for the last two months and no one seems to like it as much as we do. It has four bedrooms of which two are still possessed by teenagers.

There are two bathrooms that both are usually possessed by teenagers early every morning before school and mid-day on weekends and summer months.

There is a double car garage that has been doubling as a storage unit from the day we moved in.

There is a large in-ground pool in the back that is fully fenced in and will take any money you want to throw at it.

There is a nice large covered deck in the back where our lab calls home. It is great for coffee drinking, blogging, bar-be-quing and a shooting range for BBs where you can shoot cans off the fence. I'll throw in the lab, she actually retrieves the cans for some dumb reason.

I will also throw in the two cats, they do absolutely nothing. They won't retrieve anything and they look at the Pirate family as staff or domestics.
There is a large family room that is also my den, my office, my napping place and my football watching venue. A good many posts have been written there.

There are other anemities as well. Two fire places, one in the living room where the Pirate wife makes me take off my shoes if I want to enter. When she is at work I walk across the living room in my boots just to get back at her. The other fireplace is in the napping place.

There is a shed out back that at one time was my smoke shed. A lot of stewing and Marlboros have been consumed out there as well as cold beers. Now we store yard tools there, which is where all yard tools should be. Stored away.

Now we have our new house all built and awaiting our arrival.

Three months in the slammer?

2007-08-08T23:32:00.000-07:00

I wish it had been as easy. As you all know the pirate has had a rash of bad luck with diabetes and several loved ones passing away. Right after my last post my father's prostate cancer had came back and as of August 6, 2007 he is no longer with us.

In the very short time one of my best friends and the man that set me on my path of life has died and went to a better place.

A couple of days after my last post i was sitting in my dad's living room and he told me he was feeling awfully sick. He was so sick he took himself to the emergency room the night before. If you knew my dad that was all I needed to know that this man was hurting and sick.

My dad was the kind of guy that never complained about pain or discomfort. You would never know he had an arrow in his back until he turned around and walked away.

Shortly after that day he had an appointment with his doctor and it was determined from their tests that he had cancerous tumors throughout his organs and spine. As of this last Monday he no longer as to quietly have to suffer of his pain.

I will miss his calling me every Sunday and asking me how my "Famn Damily" was doing. He would always get the update on the family and then end the talk with a "Give em all a whuppin for me".

I will miss him calling me on my birthday no matter where I am on that day or where he is.

I will miss his tight wad Christmas gifts of a pair of socks and $5.

I will miss his keen sense of humor and his ever lasting love.

Shortly after I was notified of his plight to come, I was driving from a project when the song, "Night Moves" came on the radio. My dad was always a country western fan but loved that song because he thought it said "Nice Boobs". I have never since that day in early 1970s been able to hear anything n that song other then "Nice Boobs".

Now you know what I have been up to.

Love you dad.

I'm still here

2007-05-08T10:52:00.000-07:00

I have not ran off and joined the circus. Yet. I have not given up blogging. Never. I have just been really busy with the business and starting up a new business. The last two weeks I have been putting in nearly 80 hour weeks and trying to get the house ready to sell.

Yes you read it right I have started another business which I will share in detail after it is up an running. And yes the Pirate family has decided to move. We have lived in the present abode for nearly 13 years and have found a new area to build our new headquarters. With all this going on I have literally been too busy to write anything.

I have also will be writing at a new venue. I was invited to write at Helium and have been scoutin out a place for me to dump the stories of Sir Van Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach. Or the travels and tribulation of Willie Van. I also have to find a new place to write about the troubles Phil and Frankie got into during their early school years. So give me a week.

Got to run to go watch the lil sister run at districts in the 1500m and the 800m today. She is really excited since this is her first year in high school track and she is the only freshman running in both of those races for the team and one of a very few in the whole meet.

Peace...

Some Days

2007-04-23T11:31:00.000-07:00

You know me I really don't like to play victim. I refuse to buy into the victimhood mantality. I have little patience with whining. I have stated many times that life is fair because its crappy for everyone and its what we do with that crap that measures us. I have never accepted long periods of "woe is me" trips, in myself. But for the last three weeks I have not been the happy go lucky Pirate.

It could be the weather. Its been raining damn near every day here in western Oregon. Typical spring for this area and the time of the year. nothing to get all Algored up about.

I know I am not mensing because I have been told Pirates don't do that. That's more a damsel type of thing.

All my limbs and organs are working and the family clan claim that they appreciate me. The dog still comes to me and cat's still ignore me. Everything appears normal there.

I have all Mrs. Pirate's birthday list bought and paid for with three days to spare. The in-laws are on their way but that is three days away.

But I just don't want to play. I am having a hard time finding the color in anything.

There was a rash of people near and dear to me passing away last month. Then last week I pried out of my dad that he has several spots to contend with on his liver and he has to start kemo for the third time in as many years for prostate cancer. He still acts like its no big deal. I do not see any fear in his eyes or hear it in his voice. I sometimes wonder if he really has any feelings about much.

I'm helping a family member with finances due to their health status and the inability to find work due to their condition and that has become a real ride. He now has legal problems and Clint Eastwood's security is all pissed off at him and I am his conduit when it comes to reality. So that has been a real pain in the arse.

My aunt has been in and out of the hospital with heart bypasses and has kept it secret from the rest of us until the last couple of weeks.

Then a project with a client went to heck and probably will end a long term professional relationship and create a big bunch of crap. Nothing I could have done about it but the chips will fall on my lap.

I am informed last week we need to have a new roof put on the house. The bids are all $6,000 and up. Crap.

The refrigerator is making a lot of whistling noises and now the jen-air is howling. When I am in the kitchen batching up the Pirate clan's mess it sounds like I am standing in the middle of cat fight. Or one of the worst choirs to ever be assembled. If the dishwasher even starts to make a noise the shot gun is coming out.

All this and the newly diagnosed diabetics thing have gotten me in a not so good mood. I know there are several more things to whine about but it might start to piss me off.

Maybe tomorrow will better. I apologize for dumping all of this but I have no idea where to put it all.

Peace...

Three Things

2007-04-20T09:25:00.000-07:00

I was pressed for time today. A deadline for a project due next Wednesday, lil sister and Slick having a track meet in Eugene today and getting ready for the Pirate-in-laws next week. I couldn't think of anything to write this morning and Peach bailed me out. I have not done many of these because I don't really like them for myself but this one was easy and quick.

Three Things That Scare Me
1. Clowns.
2. Rosie O’Donnell.
3. heights, flying, ladders.

Three People Who Make Me Laugh
1. Larry the Cable Guy.
2. Patrick McManus. Field and Stream humourist, writer
3. Nancy Pelosi and the rest of her dwarfs.

Three Things I Love
1. Life.
2. People that love me.
3. Music.

Three Things I Hate
1. Brussel sprouts
2. lackanucky
3. 5 AM

Three Things I Don’t Understand
1. why people get so indignate when others disagree with them
2. daytime TV
3. Immigrants to the USA that demand we cater to their culture

Three Things On My Desk
1. laptop
2. several piles of paper and stuff, basically a mess
3. three empty coffee cups

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die
1. my 96th birthday
2. have Angelina Jolie make me breakfast
3. explain to Mrs. Pirate I was only ministering Angelina Jolie

Three Things I Can Do
1. walk 30 miles a week with a peg leg
2. type with one hand a hook
3. stick out my tongue and touch my nose

Three Things I Can’t Do
1. scratch the middle of my neck
2. be serious for 24 hours
3. convince Angelina Jolie that Brad is a wimp.

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:
1. your intuition
2. 60s and 70s rock
3. Rush

Three Things You Should Never Listen To
1. someone belittling you or your family
2. Rap music
3. people that think your ideas and drams are bunk

Three Things I’d Like To Learn:
1. the secret to life
2. how to live comfortably by doing nothing the rest of my life
3. if there was someone on the grassy knoll, are there UFOs, Nessy, and Big Foot

Three Favorite Foods:
1. Steak and baked potatoes
2. Chinese
3. Pork chops and applesauce

Three Things I Regret
1. not spending as much time with Blaze when she was growing up.
2. spending too much time smoking dope, cigarettes, and the money spent doing it.
3. watching English Patient.

I didn't tag anyone else but if you think you should do this, knock yourself out and blame me.

Peace...

22 years ago today

2007-04-19T10:25:00.000-07:00

One score and 24 months ago today, I pulled into a small town along the banks of the Willamette River, I was looking for a cold beer and a cheap taco. Sitting in the small town of Independence, was a watering hole called, Cooper's Landing. Cooper's was infamous to the local college, economically challenged kids, for its dimer nights and 25 sent tacos.

I had spent the night before destroying many brain cells with several other Pirate types, The Reverend Doctor Abigambi, Pope John Paul, Brian Paul Lezbee and Coondog. We had killed more brain cells then I would ever admit to in front of my parents or a judge. That next morning I was feeling like crap and smelling much worse. My friend Coondog came by in the early evening while I was still convalescing and reminded me that I had promised that I was going to go to Cooper's that evening with the motley crew of brain cell killers because Little Big Band was playing and the tacos had to be eaten.

With every fiber in my body I put my peg leg on, twisted on the hook and found the eye patch. Donned my swashbuckling uniform of feathery hat, fluffy shirt and sabre strap and headed out. We met the usual suspects drinking cheap domestic swill and slopping through corned-shelled tacos laced with bad-ass taco sauce that was concocted at the local mechanics shop owned by Bob the Mek-i-nik, across the street from Cooper's. Thus the 25 cents.

After several glasses of Rainier and Coondog eating half my pack of Marlboro Lights in came the woman I would eventually surrender all my freedoms to for the next 20 some years. Younger then me, a hell of a lot cuter followed by her fine little seat in her jeans. The girl was hazel-eyed, had short brown hair, and standing a smidget over 5 feet tall she stood with a not as cute girlfriend as they looked for a place to sit. I noticed that they eventually found a table way in the back and far from the excitement of the drunk and dancing college lushes.

I slapped back another half glass of confidence and approached the two ladies in the back. I introduced myself as the brave, courageous, slightly drunk and frank Pirate. I asked the two ladies if they'd like to sit at the table my friends and I had liberated. They agreed to be entertained by the small band of losers I called friends. The cute one couldn't get her eyes off my hat and commented about my tight leotards or the other way around.

Not long after the two sat among my friends I was able to convince the charming and lovely hazel-eyed girl to drink several beers from my pitcher. From here we took the dance floor. With my swashbuckling fancy foot work, several more beers and the promise of passion beyond her wildest imagination this little sweety and I slipped off to my cabin.

And the rest is history. Several kids, many cats and dogs that have came and went and the only constant is the sanity of the little lady who fell in love with a Pirate.

Twenty-two years and counting. She must be crazy.

Peace...

Pirate type letters to the Editor

2007-04-18T09:16:00.000-07:00

In Oregon the legislature just passed a law allowing for gays to live without prejudice due to their lifestyle. Those who are gay will be protected from discrimination in their workplace and where they live because who they express their physical love to. The community will now be able to develop civil unions of some sort that allows them to enjoy many of the legal protections that straight couples are allowed.

I do not have a dog in this fight and have most often made the usual Pirate smart-ass remarks. I laughed and said more then once, "Let them play house". I personally do not care what two adults do in their privacy as long as they do not want me to watch and do not tell me about it. Unless its some hotty like Paris Hilton and Anglina Jolie.

But you can imagine the letters to the editor in the local paper. There is quit a stir over the topic. People claim that without such rights their love will be deminished and others have claim that giving such rights will lessen the status of their love for their spouses. None of this really makes sense to me because I have given the finger to those who judge me long ago.

A week ago a writer named Michael Hunt claimed he was a gay person and he was damn tired of riding in the back of the bus. He no longer wants to ride in the rear and eventually wants to drive the bus.

This letter was followed by a stream of folks not liking the bus driving metaphor at all. Most saying he'll stay in the rear and darn well better get use to it.

Then today a writer responded claiming he was a Christian and had little problem with the desire of people wanting their love for each other to be left to themselves, but he thinks the demand to not ride the rear end of the bus and wanting to be in the driver's seat is equal to "a gay agenda" thing and he will not stand by and let Mr. Hunt push it down his throat. The letter was signed by a Richard Morehead.

Now I have to think these two are friends that like to push the envelope and have been getting together over a couple of beers and having a howling laugh. You'd think there was more then one Pirate out there wouldn't you?

Peace...

Aftermath equals more tragedy

2007-04-17T23:30:00.000-07:00

The tragedy at Virginia Tech was a horror we will be reminded of for many years to come and we should never forget.

What saddens me is that the tragedy seems to bring out the craziest parts in all of us. Before any funeral, before any time to reflect, before the smoke even clears the air we are flooded with the din of stupidity.

As I drove up I-5 this morning on my way to see a couple clients I was accompanied by my usual friend, "talk radio". I had a finger on the seek button to attempt to hear what was being said about one of this nations worse nightmares. I hit all the stations to get a feel.

I began to hear the starts of the next political debate. Both sides have cleared their throats, typed out their talking points, and began their banter. A banter that we all have become so familiar with. A banter that is nothing but noise driven by hyperbole. Before the 6 o'clock news even came on last night, I knew these heartless pot stirrers would begin their fingerpointing and their "money-changer" machines would be wound up and ready to charge.

I am talking about the so called experts on why and how these types of tragedies happen.

One commentator is calling for the police chief and school President to be hauled off in chains and leg irons. Thrown in the public square to be stoned. This one blames Charlton Heston. That one knows its Bush or Rosie's fault.

Another thinks the Second Amendment needs to be abolished, immediately. Why should people have the right to protect themselves don't they know their government will do it for them?

Still another is warning those who dare take his guns away, they better bring a crowbar to pry his cold dead hands from it. And enough body bags for those who try.

Other countries have harped that the USA is a society of infidels and this is the horror we bring on ourselves. Them darn Americans have too many freedoms.

There was, and thankfully it died down, a quiet question of, is this terrorism from abroad? I mean the guy doesn't even look like us and he came here from somewhere else. What was that scribbled on his arm?

I have even heard some of those I admire, claim if their would have been someone else in the fire fight armed and ready to shoot, less would have died. I have heard many claim that a well holstered society would prevent this type of thing from happening. The idea of arming the teachers and the staff of educational institutions might be a "logical" idea. But who wants to be there around finals time?

There are cries of banning this or that. Outlawing all of them. Erecting metal detectors everywhere people amass. Questions of each others patriotism because of ones position on guns.

My God, are we nuts?

It has been less then a week and everyone has a solution.

There are way too many of us making money off the tragedies of others. It is not one radio show personality, it is not one political party over another or an ideology. Its an institutionalized crazy house set up as a meat grinder. An event comes along that grabs the attention of the majority of us and the kiosks are set up all around the disaster. Views and solutions are vended like hot dogs, snow cones and elephant ears.

One day its some old cranky entertainer that lets a politically uncorrect word or statement get out of their mouth either under the influence of a mind altering substance or stupidity and the lines are drawn, the fight begins. The rehab hall gets another guest. We then feel somewhat better about them, for awhile that is.

Another day, its a "create-and-produce-nothing" starlette showing her less then desirables and my goodness all the parenting and fashion design experts are on every page of the local fish wrap, butt-wipe paper and every cable news rassilin' show. Yelling and screaming about her unfitness to be like us. What ever happened to that little chubby cheeked baby star we all loved and adored behind her back? She had such a cute belly-button.

A tragedy beyond most of our own imaginations hits us right smack in the mouth and we all come out swinging. Bumper stickers are printed, babies are kissed, tears are publically wiped and the show begins again. New favorites are rushed to the front for public consumption and we all become smarter.

Discuss yes. Discourse most likely. Civility for sure.

We all need to remember there are things on this here big old ball that are evil and no matter how damn hard we try and no matter what new invention is created to end all travieties, evil is still going to get a good lick in on us. At least its going to give us a shiner. Its because evil is working harder to win then we are.

Peace...

Prayers for Virginia Tech

2007-04-16T11:31:00.000-07:00

Its really difficult to attempt to be funny or absurd today. I really do not have a introspective nerve in me right now. Its days like this that pull us all together where there are no lines of debate, no opposing views, no spin machines and no politics.

Some sick SOB has decided to impose their warped view of misery by killing a few dozen of this country's future leaders, neighbors and parents. Our prayers need to go out to those who will forever be shaped by this autrocity and the families left to deal with the buring of loved ones. We also need to pray that this is something that will never be repeated or copied in the future.

God be with us.

Peace...

You do not...

2007-04-15T11:05:00.000-07:00

As a Pirate of the great vast oceans of this "Big old Ball" I have come to know certain laws of experience. These laws are not passed by legislative bodies, they are not chisled by God Almighty onto stone tablets, they are not provided by the governing sciences either. These are laws that of common sense based on experience.

You do not touch a hot burner on the stove. At least not more then once.

You do not spit or piss into the wind. Unless you like to wear the bile you projext.

You do not count your chickens before they are hatched. This one is definately God's way of making you humbled.

You do not badmouth a waitress or a cook about your food and have it sent back to the kitchen to be prepared the way you want it. Unless you prefer the taste of arm pit sweat or worse.

You do not pull off the mask of the Lone Ranger. According to Jim Croce. I think it depends on who is playing the Lone Ranger. I personally am less afraid of the Lone Ranger then I am Superman so I wouldn't pull on his cape either.

You do not wrestle naked with another man unless you are in prison or making movies for the great land of Kazikstan.

You do not drink out of a can unless you have looked inside first. Trust me on this one.

You do not open a package of bearclaws in the dark while you are driving along some dark highway in northern Arizona without turning the dome light on first before you chomp down on a bearclaw. Another one you have to trust me on.

And the one that comes to mind today is never do you assume Reverends Jessie and Al are finished with their crusade is complete after their target is beheaded.

Behind these two social charaltan huckster's "act" of indignation is a progressive group of socialists that call themselves "Media Matters". This group and those they financially support are bent on rubbing out the voices of the conservative radio and to erase the words of those they disagree with in written word. My guess is Don Imus is only the beginning of the movement. So if you have a favorite columnist or radio personality that may wrankle the panties of the left be prepared to watch them lose their heads this upcoming political season.

Oh, and do not ever think the Pirate isn't going to provide his comments on all things political or social. Can't help it.

Peace...

Off to Tralfamadore

2007-04-11T23:16:00.000-07:00

I know two posts in one day. I just read that one of my favorite writers left us this evening for another planet. I hope he has someone here to carry on with his satire.

I know a lot of people found his writing off kilter, whimsical and difficult to follow but I often found myself sitting in bookstores gulping down some hot house coffee lots of room for cream and five blue bags, reading the first chapter or two of whatever Vonnegut I pulled off the shelf. He started a story better then anyone I ever read. Most of the books wandered and lost me from time to time but they were exciting adventures.

“I will say anything to be funny, often in the most horrible situations,” Vonnegut once told a gathering of psychiatrists.

I understand this better then any quote I have read. Humor helps deal with the pain.

I know he is now wandering the heavens with Pvt. Pilgrim pissed off that he was wrong about there being no God.

Peace...

The Prophetic Pirate

2007-04-11T21:08:00.000-07:00

I promise this is the last time this week I will get all political on you. I just have to throw this idea out there that has been bustin' upside my brain for the last two weeks or so. This is only my observation and since this my blog, its right.

As an observing student of the polemic adventures if both the left and the right I have come to some conclusions about people and groups of people. I have learned to generalize and stereotype as good as the rest of 'em. So here is my projections of what will happen before the first Tuesday in November 2008.

Hillary and Barry O. I personally like Barry better then anyone running at the time. I feel the exact opposite for Hillary. I think Barry conjures up the best and possibly the worst in all of us. On one hand here is a man that is what the term self-made is all about. He doesn't come from any form of financial wealth. He has used his life's experiences to shape what appears to be a kind, well spoken, thoughtful, considerate and caring person. He avoids as much as possible the silly little spats and muslinging the politcal atmosphere tends to drag or push its participants through. He would be a good neighbor and friend without question.

Hillary in my opinion is the opposite all of that she has risen on the coattails of her driven husband all the long selling herself as the "smartest women" in America. She has proven to be vindictive, manipulative and phoney. She hides behind her forced smile and avoids any situation where she may be asked anything tougherer then, "What's on your iPod?" But puts herself out there as an authority of issues she has only opined on after the wind direction has been determined. I would never want her in my neighborhood let alone be a neighbor.

Hillary will win the Democrat's primaries because she has alrady been ordained by the leadership. Plus Barry has never went up against the juggernaut that makes up her political machine. He may get rock star status but she controls the airwaves. She knows where all the bodies are buried, Barry hasn't found the shovel yet.

After winnig the primaries there will be a call for her to place Barry on the ticket with her. And if you think Hillary will have a running mate that could overshadow her you're missing the vindictiveness of this person. Once nominated she will never again stand next to anyone that could cast a shadow over her.

Hillary will select a wallflower but nice guy like Bill Richardson to be her VP. This will quiet her critics a bit for dissing Barry. Her supporters and spinners will be explaining that Mr. Richardson will be bringing the experience in administrative and foreign affairs that Barry lacked. With big surprises on their faces they will explain that he is a minority, but we really weren't looking that close; wink, wink.

McCain and Rudy. Rudy has proven to be a good administator by getting credit for putting New York back in the black and cleaning up the streets. He has proven he is tough on crime, i.e. John Gotti. He recognizes what is the real scurge in the world and knows that there are a few billion people that get up every morning praying for our demise regardless if we are Democrat or Republican. He has proven that he is not all that loyal in his marriages. He has also shown that he differs with many of those that vote Republican. In their eyes he is weak or wrong on social issues like, abortion, 2nd Amendment and gay marriages. Since I tend to lean Libertarian despite what the great Reverend Doctor Abigambi may tell you. I have never based my own votes on two of the three. But it will be hard for manhy Republicans to hold their breaths and vote for him because of at least one of the three issues.

McCain worries me personally. I know he has a following that defies the political borders. He has been pegged the straight talker and many think he was dupped in South Carolina the compromisin' state in 2000. But I think a lot of the shine has left the apple on this guy. There are many great aspects about the guy such as his war hero status and his unwavering stance on the dangers of the Middle East. Then again those very characteristics didn't get Bob Dole elected.

Between these two Rudy wins. And he will take McCain as his running mate. And we have a close race between the two tickets...

Then before you know the next President steps in the race about September 2007, a few months before the first primary. When fewer dollars are needed, where name and face recognition will bolt you to the top. Fred Thompson gets his red pick up out of the garage, rolls up his sleeves and hits the campaign trail with his straight talking, basset hound face and cleans up the Republican primaries. Losing only New York and New England to Rudy. By March 15th Rudy is singing the praises of Fred and how he has watched Law & Order before Fred was ever in the Senate.

Fred will take Condi as his VP. From the convention they will hit the road in the red pick up. Then in November, 2008 they will garner at least 65% of the vote in a landslide.

They will get 10% of their votes from black America and probably more because of the slight of hand that Hillary pulled on Barry. They will get another 25% of their votes from the women that will finally see that their rightful place is at the top and it is finally being realized by Condi. Then the next 30% of their vote will be male. They will bring home the Reagan Democrats, they will retain the both the moderate and conservative Republicans and the power of this country will finally be shared by all the players except the left.

I know it bored you but I just had to get it out there before we all got to fighting over who should take Imus' place on the radio.

Peace...

What does nappy mean anyway?

2007-04-10T08:13:00.000-07:00

While I was hiatusing around for the last several months I missed blogging and boy are you better for it.

You didn't get to get my spin on Anna Nicole Smith and how I thought it was a last gasp PR event. You missed what I thought about my ex-babe's, Paris Hilton, second driving arrest.

Didn't get to read my opinion on Britney's divorce, hair cut, rehab, panty show, rehab, come back, rehab, no panty show, rehab, New Year's drunken display, rehab, letting baby drive, rehab opinion.

You were spared about my take on how I thought the Democrats stole both houses in the last election. And put a PTA chairman and a band of reprobates in charge of the store.

You were saved from my boasting for callling the Colts the Superbowl winners before even one kickoff had happened. (Ask Teresa to go back into her posts last Fall if you don't believe me). And how I think they stole the season from the Rams.

You luckily didn't have to hear my spin on the rantings of Michael Richards, Mel Gibson, Ann Coulter, or the slip of tongue by George Allen, Joseph Biden which probably divulged some of their deepest thoughts.

But unfortunately you (unless you have stopped reading by now) are going to hear my thoughts on Don Imus.

When I commuted to Portland for a few years I use to listen to him on the radio. It was the only thing provocative on the radio that early. Rush didn't hit the airwaves for three or four more hours. And Imus was a pot stirrer. Birds of a feather thing going here.

I personally disagree with Imus on a whole lot of things. I also thought he was a little mean spirited with guests and I never understood why anyone would ever go on his show in the first place. But like any other commuter I liked looking at car wrecks. The one thing for sure is, he is funny at times and listening to a crotchity grouch in the morning is nostalgic when you grew up with one.

I didn't hear what Imus had said, but I had read about it before I ever heard anyone's comment. I read he had called the Rutger's women's basketball team a bunch of nappy headed hos.

This was suppose to be a racial comment?

Being someone who thought they had heard all of the bad things one could call another I became confused. I had no idea what nappy even meant. And I didn't know that hos was spelled that way. I had only heard the word hos used by the gang banger types and the comedians who wanted to express some ghetto jargon. I just never put that word in my head or thought of how it was spelled.

So I Googled nappy to find out what the heck that word meant. The first thing that came up is it is a cutsy form of saying diaper. Some parts of the USA and British kingdom uses the word instead of diapers. So is Imus calling them diaper heads?

Then the next several sites referred to one a Black music group, Nappy Rock. Then there was the Nappy stories which is stories about Black women written by what I assume black women. Then there was something about Nappy Hair Affair of which further confused me.

I then went to my memory banks and remember that one of my closest friend, who just happens to be a black women herself, has used the word describing her dislike of President Bush. So I am still confused and have no idea what the heck it means. It appears to have many meanings and is used by a lot of people describing a lot of stuff. But no where is it used as racist. At least not what I have heard and read.

So why the outrage? I hear the word hos thrown around on the TV all the time. And nappy could mean whatever.

Why did Imus even kowtow to those calling for his head? Why would he legitimize the likes of the poverty pushers like Jessie Jackson or Al Sharpton? Who gave those two the final say on what is offensive or not? are they racial monitors now?

So what was the remedy? Give the millionaire two weeks vacation and stir more interest in his show. You just know he will have an increase in listeners when he gets back from Cancun. And letting us all know that Al Sharpton has his own radio show too. Smells like another PR stunt at least Anna Nicole Smith went to further lengths for her's.

Peace...

Busy being Busy

2007-04-09T21:57:00.000-07:00

I have had a hard time getting to the blogger today. I have been working my Pirate rear off today trying to get three reports done and out by the end of this week. I sent the biggest one to the publisher, Can O'Corn. You may remember him from my Sir Von Asswpe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach days. We were both held captive on this isolated island and made to watch the two of them masquerade around as humans.

We were put out to sea on the rickity raft after making millions for that 4 foot tall megla-maniac and his two-ton crotch scratching princess. When we found land Can O'Corn and I decided to start our own businesses. Notice business is plural. I will collaberate I do not do partners. My theory is you only do partners with someone you'd screw or you don't mind being screwed by. Because you are always responsible for what they buy at the store and say at the bar. So you might as well be screwing if you're going to put yourself out there like that and hopefully taking pictures of compromising situations in case you break up later. (Remember that Paris Hilton).

Can O'Corn being the anal retentive atta boy Harry Hairshirt, ex-screaming Eagle Blackhawk pilot took the publishing side of our atack. I the warped one-eyed, hook armed, peg legged fatty smokin, beer swilling, Pirate decided I'd do better as the "Big Picture" guy. It works for us. At least for me it does.

Can O'Corn is able to spend his day analyzing and poking at the detailed chit and I am able to focus on the long haul. Picture Cheech and Chong here. Can O'Corn looks like he's from East LA and I look like a lost Pirate without a map.

I digress. Or was that regress?

Well, anyway. I have been busting my Pirate backside the last several weeks trying to get these reports done. First I got sick which I will go into some other time when I need a shoulder to slobber on, then I lost two grandmothers and four friends in a matter of a week. Right in the middle of all that this butthead that had hired us calls me up and wants his reports.

I said, "Well my good friend", that had the good nature to open up his, what appeared to be frugal wallet, "I have incurred a few personal set backs of late".

He became rather how do you say it, in a nice way? An asshole. "I thought you said I would have those reports in my hands in two weeks, blah, blah, blah".

What he was really saying is he expects the "help" to jump when he calls.

At first I had this fear of losing a client. So, I immediately jumped into the kiss the backside of is royal hindass. Oh please don't think ill of me old guy with the bucks. Then it hit me this guy had talked me down to doing the whole project at about 50% of the market would do it for and then after we started the project piled more and more on. And to think I could get a report out in two weeks on a project twice the size of the regular projects. No way! And further I never told the slime basket I would have it done in two weeks. I have done over 500 of these types of reports and never have they come in in less then 60 days. Then I remembered I told the dolt by the end of April. Yeah that's it. April 30th something!

Then the next day I get this snotty email from the guy. It is obvious to me he just likes to make people eat out of his hand. "Dear Pirate Appraisal guy. Though I can appreciate your sudden illness and recent family lose but I have grave concerns about your firm completing this project at my expectations. So kindly send me what you have completed up until now and I will review it. And determine if I will continue your employment. Yours truely Sir Edmond Fartmuncher."

Good thing my Pirate nerve returned.

I promptly firing back an email telling him he obviously was living in a dream world if he thought for one second this here Pirate was going to jump to his command he's been eating out of the wrong toilet bowl. Though I certainly appreciated the opportunity to do work for him in no way will I catch his farts. In no way would I send him a progress of what I had done up until now and in no way was I going to send him proprietary data for his personal use. And most of all no one and especially not me ever told anyone, that this project would take two weeks. But while you're munching on that one, Edmond here is my bill. Oh yeah and the horse you rode in on too!!! Then I stomped off to another funeral in a foul mood.

When I returned that evening I had received a crow eating email from him pleading with me to complete the report.

Now he will get the report two weeks short of what I had told him in the first place. Watch the slime ball take two months to pay me.

You'd think after 47 years I had figured this one out already. Whenever someone talks you into doing more for less they will be the one that is the biggest pain in the arse. Its always ends that way. I sensed it when I first solicited these people and I didn't listen to that parrot on my shoulder.

Peace...

That just ain't funny dude.

2007-04-07T23:50:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I went to a political party and met this sweaty tubby dude that kept following me around cracking jokes that just weren't funny.

Finally, I said Al tell me your best joke. He thought for a second or two and then hiccupped and smiled. "I'll show, I'll shhhow you that I have the longest, ummm, the longest umm, thumb in the, worrrr, the world". As he kept poking me in the chest.

I said "What? The longest what?"

"The longest thumbbbb" he repeated. " you know what you have one of". Sorry bout that old pirate. hiccup. burp."

"Okay. Let's see this longest thumBBB". As I removed his arm from around my neck and pushed him slightly away to avoid the stench of his political punch.

He showed me his thumb and I must be honest with you I wasn't all that impressed. I said "Al. You ain't that funny dude.

You should ask to be on that stupid Bill Mahuer show on HBO."

Then he looked both ways making sure Tipper wasn't watching or anyone in the press for that matter, liked the ends of his thumb and stuck it up his rear port hole.

Shazam he maybe onto something there.

I will certainly take him more seriously from now on. It became a real hit the rest of the night. You constantly saw him pulling people aside and going through the same routine. As I was leaving I heard these two asking him to do it again over and over at least twelve times.

Me thinks these three have had too much political partying.

Peace...

Books

2007-04-07T12:36:00.000-07:00

As I was on hiatus from blogging I found myself reading a several books worth mentioning. Some were good some were not so good but the are going to mentioned anyway.

The Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill. Joe Hill is the son of Stephen King. The story is original and worth reading. Hill has incorporated some of his father's talent and several of the same means of keeping the contempory reader interestd by mentioning contempory musicians, books, and current events throughout the story. I have to admit there were several times I said,"Uh?" and had to go back a page or two to see if I missed something. Overall it is a good book.

House of Sand and Fog by andre Dubus III. I enjoyed this one as well. It is a story that teeter-totters back and forth between two people surrounding the importance of a specific house. I liked it a lot.

Survival of the Fittest by Johnathan Kellerman. Its a typical Kellerman novel that kind of drags on but it is worth the read. Some times I think Kellerman is getting paid by the word. Often he goes on a little long in areas.

The Conspiracy Club by Jonathan Kellerman. Ditto.

The Innocent Man by John Grisham. It is Grisham's attempt at non-fiction. To be honest with you it is no, "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote but it a good read. I sat down and pounded this one out in a day and a half which may say something about the ease of the read. i have only done that with two other books in my life.

State of Fear by Michael Crichton. This one will surely wrangle the likes of Al Gore and his alarmist position about the state of humans destroying the world. Good book like most anything Crichton writes.

Lisey's Story by Stephen King. Longer and repetitive then it needs to be. The pace is confusing at times. But I am a King fan so Iread anything he writes.

Cell by Stephen King. A little more exciting about how dangerous cell phones can be. Interesting idea lacked some of King's heart in the telling though.

All the Trouble in the World by PJ O'Rourke. Older book I found at a yard sale. I can't resist O'Rourkes slant on world observations. If you don't have a sense of humor and have a tendency to resist the idea that conservatives can have a sense of humor themselves don't bother.

Citizen Soldier by Stephen Ambrose. Non-fiction book on the WWII soldiers and the type of people they were.

Benjaman Franklin by Walter Isaacson. My favorite character in history. I think old Ben may have literally been the father of our country.

The Darwin Conspiracy by John Darton. Another book that titilates the myths most people have grew comfortable with. It is a historical mystery and a fun read.

Sea of Glory by Nathaniel Philbrick. It is the second book he has written about the sea and those who make their lives on the open waters. This one was historically interesting but not written as well as his last book Heart of the Sea which I loved. This book was about the mappig of the South Pacific the previous was the whale ship, Essex, that was sunk by a great killer whale. The story Moby Dick was based on the incident.

There have been more nut I can not remember. Some times they run together in my mind.

Have a Happy Easter and remember the reason for it all has less to do with eggs, bunnies, chocolate and ham and more to do with the grace of forgiveness and the lengths that someone will go to, to show you their unconditional love for you.

Peace.

Hey Give That Dude a Carbon Credit Card

2007-04-06T15:54:00.000-07:00

You know me I like to stir the pot with the best of them. Often my political stance is presented to just piss off the room. Of late there is the big old debate about global warming and if humans can be held accountable for it or not.

I think it is obvious to all of us if you pour a lot of gunk in a glass jar after awhile the jar looks like it is full of gunk. And if you want a clean jar you just dump it out. No more gunk in the jar.

Now the debate surely isn't as simple as that, but at times when the news channel is on behind me here in my office you'd think it is. I've heard stories of Vikings growing grapes in Greenland 700 years ago and I have heard of polar bears drowning. So I am torn. Were the Vikings just drunk and why don't someone give them bears waterwings?

I've heard that humans only account for 1% of the carbon emissions and that USA is responsible for 25% of that total. If my math is right I figure if we quit breathing, living, moving and being who we are we can remove .25% of all the carbon emissions. In the big scheme things it sounds like a fart in a hurricane to me.

Then it hit me we need a fart tax, i.e. a carbon tax. So I went out on the web today to see if I could catch some of the biggest farters to send a bill to.

This guy has to be at least $75,000 behind. You can tell it even hurt. Has to be all that spicy Pakistani food

If Denny hasn't ,yet you know he's about to. Breakout the wallet bud.

I'm sure these two have enough hot air between the two of 'em. give you style points but you gotta pay too. While I am at it, don't you think these two would make lovely children?

I will have the head office send a bill too. How much do you think we should bill them?

If I have a point in this post it obviously is on the top of my head. Only thing I can gather from both sides is this; someone is going to have live in that jar, gunk or not. And there are a whole lot of folks pushing nothing but hot air.

Peace.

South Carolina Compromise

2007-04-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

For a country boy from the Coast Range Mountains of Oregon going to South Carolina was like traveling to another country. The only difference was I didn't need a passport. With travel restrictions getting tighter I may need one in the future.

This is in Charleston where both the Revolutionary war and the Civil war all began. I had no idea that so much defiant history haunted this town. Just think within the last two hundred years the folks of this little city have told "Big Gubberment" to take a hike. "We don't need your taxin' n regulatin' round here".

Prior to taking this business trip last January I had never been any further east then Wyoming. But I had watched plenty of "Flip this House". A week before goin' south I happen to see Richard Davis and his crew rennovatin' an eatin' establishment in Charleston called, "The Crab House". As soon as I was done with my work I beelined to the Crab House where these two lovely people gave me crabs. They looked damn happy about it to. They were from Oregon themselves so they were so happy to oblige. Southern Hospitality "Oregon" style.

Then we all headed for Columbia. The capital that is. Not the country in South America. When we were there we visited the capital buildin' and set out findin' what ever happen to there Southern Cross flag. We finally found this nice gubberment guy named, Skipper P. He told us that they use to fly the Southern Cross flag on the top of the capital, a hundred feets in the air. Then these intolerant Yankee type trouble makers got their panties in a bunch and demanded they take that there flag off of that there capital buildin'. Then a whole bunch of people got all red and stuff. Ticked off at each other and a bunch of old sores were opened and all. Then they decided let's do what all good gubberments do. Compromise!

So they went a compromisin' and arm twistin' and a little more arguin' which all sounded like a lot of work, but it wasn't. Then one of the good old boys named Leghorn or Foghorn sumpin' says Yeah all! why don't we just take the darn flag down and put it on the capital grounds? Man ol' mighty, holy lord jumpin up and down, the place went crazy. You'd a thought Clemson had won the national title and all. Dey had finally brought the darn issues to a conclusion. And it didn't cost all dat much. Gubberment on the cheap ain't heard of these days.

One side thought hey, yeah we won dis here fight. Yes we did, Hmm, hmm. Thems goin' to take that rebel flag down from the top of dat der dome. And put it on da ground. Yep, yep, we wins. The NCAA will finally come heres and have a convention or sumpin. And thems Yankees will leave us alone til da next election.

So now da rebel flag flies proudly at da entrance of dat dere captial buildin' . Instead of hundred feets above where you couldn't see it all dat good. Another fine gubberment solution.

Bein' from Oregon and all I think you need to be careful how you compromise.

If you look real close you can tell that is Buford Pusser Pirate himself guardin' dat dere rebel flag.

What a March

2007-04-04T08:59:00.000-07:00

I was looking at the last time I had posted a comment on my blog prior to yesterday and I realized so much has went by since. I almost feel like Ichabod Crane. I have yet to see any headless horsemen, but the campaign for the next US President has only just began.

First off, the family and business are healthy. I have been reading and writing plenty but not as much as I had wished. All of our kids still love us and Mrs. Pirate has been awarded more medals of tolerance. I have had more work then I could have ever wished for and like any other businessperson out there I wish for more.

I use to like to boast of having three grandmothers alive. One 103 years old, one 93 years old and a young one of 83 years old. Well this last two weeks we lost the two elder gals in the posse. If you want you can go back and read about my Grandmother Lucille in a post March 7, 2006. She passed away March 22, 2007 after being laid up from a fall where she broke her leg last Thanksgiving season. Then this last Friday my mother had called me to let me know my Grandmother that was 103 years old passed away in the Sacramento area.

Grandma Lucille had lived her last four months in a home where she was pretty much bed-ridden. She never allowed her humor or wits to leave her. Not even up to her last days. A month before she passed away I had just gotten back from a trip to South Carolina and wernt to visit her. The home had moved her to another room. When I found the new room I sent in and was not able to determine which elderly old lady was my own grandmother. After staring at two rather withered old gals fat asleep in neighboring beds with the same buzz cuts I told my daughter, who was with me, that this must be the wrong room. My daughter laughed and said this one is grandma, I think. The name tag above her bed had her name but the two weeks of my being away changed her so much.

She finally woke up and was so happy to see the two of us and began her discussion how she thought the Oregon Ducks and Portland Trailblazers were doing and what she anticipated their season outcomes would be. We then discussed politics of which she and I have never agreed on. She then shared a couple of family stories with us and then tired out. I told her how difficult it was to determine which one of the old gals in the room was her with their haircuts. She told me she thought the beautician had butchered her hair and she thought she looked like an old man or possibly a lesbian.

My 103 year old grandmother just suddenly took ill one day. She was taken to hospital where she had asked for her Bible and magnifying glass. Shortly after reading she went to sleep and passed away. Nine years ago my grandfather had passed away short of their 70th wedding anniversary. At the funeral grandma had told everyone she was disappointed in grandpa's passing because she had always figured they would grow old together. I guess being married a month short of 70 years after a two week courting was not long enough.

Along with the lose of these two fine women we dealt with four other deaths. So March was fairly sad.

Now with my health back and spring in the air I plan to get back to my once regular routine of work and blogging. I have so much to say about World affairs, current events, weird news, Oregon Ducks, a trip to South Carolina, business, Nancy Pelosi and her sisters in absurdity, Rosie O'Donnell and Mrs. Bill Clinton. I also look forward to giving my take on Barak Obama, Rudy G, and the other leader wannabes. I plan to blog about some of the books I have read, movies I have watched and other observations.

I also have a lot of make up reading to do of my favorite bloggers and to see what is new with the blog world.

After Hanging with Keith Richards Awhile

2007-04-03T16:23:00.000-07:00

It hit me after hanging with Keith Richards for sometime that his folks kind of stunk.

Going forward the Pirate will be flying sober and high only on life. After praying for several years to kick the monkey off my back, the Lord finally had freed me of the buzz in my head.

I ended every night for the last 30 plus stoned. As I sent my prayers to God asking him to watch over all my family, friends and whoever may have been in my thought that day I always pleaded with him to take my desire to self medicate away from me. Earlier this year he did. In great fashion.

As I laid on the bathroom floor gasping for breath in the middle of the night and assuring Mrs. Pirate it would be alright I made a deal with God. "Please God kill me now or let me keep going. And if I'm going keep going let me do it free of substance".

I made it throught the night and barely through the next several days. As each following day and left my health improved (with the help of a good doctor) I noticed I had no desire to but poisons into my body. None at all. No more smokes, no more alcohol, no more pot, no more buzz for this Pirate. From now on my sailing will be substance free.

The only thing that should be said from now on is, "its about time dumbass."

Camp Rilea Race

2006-09-25T15:50:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Pirate and I spent the weekend in Astoria, one of the oldest towns on the Pacific and definately the oldest in the Pacific Northwest. What a great little town. Most of the buildings are brick fronts that resemble America in the 1800s. The town lays on a mound of hills that overlooks the mouth of the Columbia River. The geographic layout itself is beautiful and the what the history of fishermen, canneries, loggers and others that live off the land did to the location makes it easily one of the most beautiful places in America.

To make it easy on travelers there are more places to get a good bite to eat then you an shake a stick at. And antigue shops coming dot the main and back streets. The little city also has become the "Hollywood" of Oregon. Movies such as, "Goonies" and "Kindergarten Cop" were filemd there as was the "The Ring", "Closed Circuit" and many more. I have no doubt a movie based on a couple Stephen King stories has been shot there.

We had drove up the night before the Annual Camp Rilea Three Course Cross Country event. Every year for I don't know how many, the National Guard puts on a cross country race at Camp Rilea. The event has to be one of the best high school sporting events out there.

Over 2000 runners from 99 schools participated this year. The schools come from Canada, Washington, Oregon, Idaho and California. The kids stay at the camp for a couple of days where there is a dance and a movie put on for them. They eat together and get to meet other young people from all over.

The race has three courses, Red, White and Blue. White is the easy course and is recommended for freshmen, novices and newcomers to the sport. Blue course is the moderate course and has some difficulty such as a leg along beach. Then the Red course is obviously the, "Death" course. The night before the race the kids draw a marble from a bucket which indicates the color of the course they will have to run.

Slick got off easier this year and drew a White marble. Lil Sis who is a freshman had the option of picking white as well. She wanted to try her luck and to her happiness drew the Red marble.

The morning of the race when Mrs. Pirate and I made it to the race we were met by two very happy kids. Slick elated to not have to run the death course and Lil Sis overwhelmingly happy she got to put herself through hell.

We couldn't asked for better weather or a better day.

Has the Pirate turned into another Political Pundit?

2006-09-21T10:50:00.000-07:00

Some may think I have have flipped my noggin and went all out right-wing whacko. Others may say we really don't care about politics so write about those topics that make us smile and yet the great Rev Dr. Abagambi will state he knows all those years of mowing grass have finally eaten my brain away.

I have had some ask me why do I always slap a wet onde up against the head of the liberals and Democrats whenever I get the chance. One of the reasons is I am a pot stirrer and like kicking up a lather when possible. I also want all my liberal and Democratic friends to get a look how their political views closely resemble the views of the anti-American foreign leaders.

I am also striking out in my own little way how I think the Democrat election strategy is wrong and lends itself to the detriment of this great country.

I have no problem with disagreements and descent I have a real problem making such waves when we have men and women in harms way fighting for the freedoms we apathetically enjoy. Plain and simple I am a homer and will do everything possible to support the home team until the game is over and the foes have gotten on the bus and went home.

I have no problem reviewing the game film and making sure we don't make the same mistakes in the future but in no way am I ever going to yell for the other team when the clock is running.

It looks like New York Democrat Charles Rangle read my blog last night. He told Chavez to never again come into our country and bad mouth our president. He said Bush may be a devil but he is our devil.

Not to be left out the world's third most powerful person, Nancy "The Joker" Pelosi dittoed Rangles comments. She also said she prefers Seattle's Best over Starbuck's and she has the anxiety spells to prove it.

The pirate's political party alignment has only a few players. These two are responsible for the entertainment at that party. Jimmy plays guitar and Kinky provides the fatties.

As long as they find a place in their cabinet for Condi I am all for these two running the whole show.

Chavez Marries Ahmadinejad

2006-09-20T15:35:00.000-07:00

This clown to the left pointing toward the direction of where his dictatorship will be heading in the next year or so, brought his form of comedy to the UN today. Speaking straight from the talking points Howard Dean had slipped him prior to taking to the dias, Hugo Chavez spewed his hate in the land of freedom by calling President Bush, the devil; el diablo.

He spent his time in front of the free world taking shot after shot at our President. He claimed President Bush is trying to take over the world through terror and he thinks he likes to throw his weight around with the USA's technology and military strength.

Chavez drew a few laughs from the motley crew who comprise his aduience when he said he could still smell the stinch of Bush from the day before who had stood in the same place 24 hours earlier. I think the odor was coming from his upper lip.

Chavez then told the world he is closely aligned with Iran, Cuba and the Democratic party of the USA. And told the world if the USA does anything to stop the move of Iran to attain nuclear weapons he would push the price of oil to $200 per barrell. Then he encouraged the world to read the latest anti-American tripe from the messiah of the left, Noam Chomsky.

As the Democrat party numbers begin to slip in the polls over the next month and a half they will claim that Bush planned this whole UN Summit in order to manipulate the election.

Well, Hugo. Let me make this perfectly clear. Bush may be a devil but he is our devil and a lowly little tin-horn dictator like you is nothing but a gnat in history. Your time is limited and your type need not apply for any further consideration. You better enjoy the few years you have left at the top of your heap because you are coming down soon.

Shortly after his speech Chavez was caught in the hall of the UN making out with his boyfriend Ahmadinejad.

I think there is a little tongue being slopped around there.

Man I Hate to Lose

2006-09-18T18:52:00.000-07:00

I'm sure some of you had the fortune to watch the Oregon Ducks vs. Oklahoma Sooners game this weekend. The game went down to the wire and the Ducks had the good fortune to pull out a victory. Or snatch victory from the teeth of defeat as a more dramatic sports writer would have penned.

What a game it was. Two superb football programs meeting in Eugene for the first time and only the seventh meeting of both teams.

The first half was all Ducks. Then the next two quarters it was all Sooners. Except for the last 2 minutes. In this back and forth battle on the gridiron came to the final two minutes the Sooners led 33 to 20. The Ducks needed a miracle to win and boy did they get one, or maybe two, it depends on who you talk to.

The Ducks were fortunate enough to get the first touchdown by sure determination leaving them down 27 to 33. They then needed to recover the football on an onside kick. The kicker booted the ball against the ground and it bounced high in the air. Coming down across the imaginary line that laid ten yards away from where it was kicked. After reviewing the replay the refs gave the ball to the Ducks.

The Ducks then took the ball from mid-field and drove the remaining yards to a long bomb pass to supposedly clinch the victory. Autzen Stadium went crazy. People who had already headed for their cars were trying desprately to get back in and the security forces were holding back the salivating crowd from going onto the field.

With 45 seconds remaining the Ducks kicked off to the Sooners and one of the oklahoma players brought the ball back into Duck territory. After one running play the Sooners spiked the ball to stop the clock with 2 seconds remaining. They sent out their sure score kicking team for the final dagger to the Duck's heart. The ball was hiked and the place setter laid the ball down for the kicker right wherfe he was suppose to. And the kicker gave the ball a boot and luck bieng the Duck's that day, the Duck's defense blocked the field goal attempt and made the Ducks the victors.

Now all we hear is the whinny Sooner fans and President of their school demanding that the game be removed from the record books because they feel they got riped off by the poor refering job on the onside kick.

They don't mention that the only reason the Sooners were ahead was because of the four bad calls against the Ducks in the third and fourth quarter prior to the onside kick. The misplacing the ball on the Duck's 47 instead of their own 47 on their last touchdown. They forget to mention that the last touchdown made by the Sooners came on a play that the play clock had been sitting on zero for some time. They don't mention that the Sooner receiver stepped out of bounds on his trek to the end zone.

They also forget to mention the offensive interference the Sooner receiver did in the end zone on one of their touchdowns. Thay only want to whine about the onside kick.

Get over it. You had ample opportunity to win the game Oklahoma and you didn't. I have been an avid watcher of football for years and have seen Oklahoma get their share of calls and a lot of their prominence over the years has been held up because of many of those poor calls.

Maybe we should play it over again.

Peace...

Rock Star my Rear

2006-09-14T17:38:00.000-07:00

For the last two years I have been an avid Rock Star fan. I personally can't stand any most of the reality type programs. Too many of the programs encourage the worst characteristics of competition and even being a human being. The drama that comes with back-biting and sabatoge only appeal to me when on the open seas and the crew has been out of port for over a month or two then I can appreciate a good drama. But for TV entertainment, count me out on Big Brother or
Survivor.

Now Rock Star is a whole other story. It is a show that encourages the performers to "Bring it". Put your talent on display and your heart on your sleeve and ROCK!

Last year's winner JD Fortune gave me some reservations throughout season but by the end there was little doubt he had what it took to front a band and bring the intensity for a two hour show. And most of all he was talented.

This year there the crew was more talented. It was obvious from the beginning Magni, Storm Large, Toby Rand and Ryan Star were headed to to the top. The band SuperNova had a different view on the competition. Last night they had whittled the group of 16 down to two. The two I thought who should have been cut several weeks back. Some because of their "drama" that instantly turns me off and I didn't think they entertained me at all. The final two were Dilana and Lukas. With Lukas some how coming out on top.

To show you how much I know Lukas evidently recieved the most votes of the contestants. So you know how in tune the Pirate is.

To make myself feel better I went to the corporate coffee house, "Starbucks", last night and bought the new Dylan CD, Modern Times. You need to hear it. There is some old and some new in the CD.

In other news today. A back up punter from Northern Colroado State decided riding the bench wasn't his cup of tea. So he dressed in a black hoody and attacked the starting punter with a club and a knife. First he struck the youg man from behind to drop him to the ground. Then he stabbed the boy in his kicking leg. Talking about getting an edge on the competition.

I read today a MySpace participant was arrested for trying to hire a Pirate, uhm mm, a hitman to kill another MySpace girl for having put her picture on the first girls boyfriend's MySpace. MySpace users must be cheap because all she paid was $400 with a $100 bonus when the job was complete. You know the Blogger crowd would pay more then that.

I also read today that a British scientist has discovered that men are smarter then women. Well, duh. You just know this guy can't be married. I'm waiting for the next step in the research when he figures out if being a blonde has anything to do with IQ.

I see where the president of Iran has said he believes that Iran would be a better world leader then the USA. And the Democrats seconded his opinion. Well, not all the Democrats. Hillary is still on our side but we need to keep an eye on Carter, Kerry and Kennedy.

Speaking of Hillary I have been thinking about doing a remake of the Wizard of Oz. Don't you think Hillary would be an excellent Dorothy?

Who should play the other parts? If you think Hillary would be better suited for an other part feel free to chime in.

Do you think the cute blonde hottie teacher, LaFave, got off because she was such a little hard body? Hey, judge damn glad we have a legal system and not a justice system. I hope you can sleep at night. A more relevant punishment would have had that little skank serving on my ship for the next six years before she got fat.

Suppose she was the quinea pig in the previous IQ test?

I was wondering the other day how a story would turn out if one person did a chapter and passed it on with the goal of 30 of more chapters all from other writers. Do you think it would be any good? Or would resemble a collection of short stories?

Dinners done I'm out of here......

Peace...

Oh, yeah one other thing I still haven't seen Dennis Miller for a long time. What do you think they did with him?

They're off and running

2006-09-12T11:41:00.000-07:00

Its that time of the year with the change in the color of the leaves, cooler evenings, dew on the morning grass, favorite football teams to be boasted about and cross country.

Where in the heck did this sport ever come from? At least in my family. I came from a family that saw football as the reson for living. My two brothers and I were larger then the running types and preferred smashing into other people then trying to out run them. I always pictured any future children having the same love affair with the gridiron as I had. I could never fathom a Pirate family member not having an innate desire to play the game of the gods.

But I was wrong. Both sons tried the game. Jock played it through Sophmore year until he decided that his future was on the oval track and football could be an obstical to any success in track. Slick gave it a shot when he was in middle school and found it was not his cup of tea; smashing into others when he nothing against the other guy in the first place.

Blaze never wanted to give football one second of her tme. Senseless was what she saw in the game. Lil Sis though has always been a fan. Since she was very little she has always been Dad's football buddy. I, a Ram fan, she a Bronco fan.

Now she is too old to play football in any organization she has turned into a cross country runner. This last week at the coast north of Tillamook she ran in her first meet.

Her and Slick trudging down the sand and then up through the woods along path ways and hiking trails. Mrs. Pirate and I getting our walking in by moving from observation point to observation point. It was quit a workout for an old Pirate that has spent much of his time on the beach burying treasure and pounding beers.

September 11, 2001

2006-09-10T17:59:00.000-07:00

What began as a beautiful fall morning, like those we all pray for, quickly through hate, became the moment that changed America for ever.

A moment that is burned into the minds of all Americans regardless of their religion, their race, their political ideology, their gender, their age, their nation of origin or any other diverse characteristic we divide ourselves with. A moment that united all of us.

This morning struck us in varying ways and in many places.

It was also the day we began to fight back against those who had prayed for our demise for centuries.

New heroes were born and later hailed.

Old heroes were there as was always their promise.

Resolve became our cry and the long journey into a hell, we call terror, began.

On this fifth day of rememberance please be thankful to your fellow Americans. Take the time to thank our soldiers, the emergency response teams, our elected officials, our neighbors and your families. Because despite all we have seen over the last five years and all that has been said we are still here stronger then ever and united to the end.

Peace...

I think she's trying to get my attention

2006-09-08T09:26:00.001-07:00

I have often made comments and written posts on how Paris Hilton is my kind of gal. Apparently she hasn't heard or has not read my blog. Now she has pulled out all the stops and is going all trailer park on us.

Is this a ploy to attract a real man? Is she sending a message to Mel Gibson that she's ready to play Bonnie Parker in a remake of Bonnie and Clyde?

It appears that Paris has little if any anger toward the Jews but has no problem snubbing Carl Jr.'s. When she was arrested for having a little too much to drink she claimed she was heading for the In N Out for a burger. What, aren't there any cars that need to be washed at Carl Jr.'s? Maybe she was trying to avoid any embarassment for Carl Jr.'s?

Do you think there will be a public backlash? Maybe there will be some video of her doing community service work. I can see her all duded out in an orange safety vest and wearing a white hard hat as she strolls along picking up garbage beside a highway, working up a sweat. Or teaching middle school girls how to properly apply make up so they won't look skanky.

My guess is she will be on Larry King next week talking about global warming and why the "pretty people" and those who matter in the celebrity world, think President Bush is stupid.

Why haven't they released her mug shot? I want to see how she looks all disshoveled and sleepy eyed with a little drool running down the side of her chin. Now that would be hot.

Will someone tell her I noticed her before she goes and hurts someone? Tell her I'll be at Carl Jr.'s trying to smooth things over for her.

Peace...

Its Funny How the Truth Bounces

2006-09-07T10:29:00.000-07:00

This is for my professor buddy Rev. Dr. Abagambi. If you do not have the stomach for a political post that leans to the right and is in the favor of the conservative point of view. This post is one that believes Clinton and his lefty friends are a detriment to this country and that Bush has been on target the whole time. if this offends your sensibilities then go elsewhere to read. If you think you have a better perspective then leave a comment.

A few years ago the Reverand doctor was foaming at the corners of his mouth as he claimed that Bush, Cheney and rove were going down and possibly to prison for the Valerie Plame escapades. My response at the time was this was much ado about nothing.

Well recently we were provided the truth. A truth that the special prosecutor knew from the onset, that no one in the white house or withing Bush's circles had anything to do with the release of Valerie plame's name to the press. It turns out that it was Colin Powell's number two man at the State Department, Richard Armitage, was the source of the leak.

Typical lefty government operations. Throw millions of dollars against the wall and then see what sticks.

Then these anti-American types thought they had Bush in the corner once again regarding the secret CIA prisons and the interrogations of some of the most evil people to consume air. The ACLU and the other lefties thought that these imprisoned men, whose defining ambitions is the demise of America's, were being mistreated and should be treated by the administration as nothing more then misguided individuals that hate us because of our past transgressions. And tolerance should be provided them.

Bush gave them what they wanted yesterday. These terrorists will be moved to Cuba and eventually tried. Tried right here in the USA in some type of military tribunal. Today the left is in a stir about this and wants these terrorists to be treated in a fair manner. These anti-american lefties do not want the responsibility dumped at their feet. They prefer the position of being a critic and not one that requires they raise a finger in this fight for the future of our country.

Then I turn on my laptop this morning and all the Clintonestas are worked up about the upcoming ABC movie, The Path to 9/11.

These dolts wanted to walk into future without taking any blame on their incompentance at governing and protecting this country against its enemies. These arrogant elitist wanted the history books to lay all 9/11 at the feet of Bush and his administration when there is nothing that can be laid at the feet of an administration that was less then nine months old.

Sandy Berger and Ms. Not-So-Bright think their showing of their fangs to the press and claiming that the upcoming ABC movie slanders them. But it was Berger who was found guilty of stealing documents that pertained to Osama Bin Laden and how their administration dealt with the threat of terror on our homeland. It was also Ms. Not-So-Bright who was the architect behind the problems we have with al Qeada today because she wanted to pursue a "legal" path to bring Osama to justice other then a military path.

What makes me laugh about their whinning about the movie is where were these reprobates when Michael Moore pushing his truth challenged movie?

I just had to get this off my chest.

Peace...

How did they find me?

2006-09-05T12:49:00.000-07:00

I have no idea how this ever came about and I need to know where I turn to end it. I don't know how they got my business phone number either.

About two months ago I began getting these telephone calls from salespeople. I don't mean the ones trying to sell you a new mortgage or timeshare condos, not even the ones that want you to switch long distant providers. These salespeople want me to invest monies into their projects.

The first one was regarding alternative energy devices but they weren't as aggressive as the ones that would follow. I was able to thwart their efforts by simply telling them that I was moving back to nature. I claimned my family and I was moving to the Mosquito Coast at the end of month, therefore we had no need for energy and didn't foresee us ever coming back. Unless society went back to lighting the streets with sperm whale oil.

Then my name must have gotten passed around to a more persistant group. Groups that employed the fast talking, take no answer other than yes, groups. These folks weren;t employing your typical Pakistani or Indian, that butchers your name in some boiler room in Asia. No professional shills I would guess.

I have named these people, "sales-terrorists". I have a memo into Cheney and Bush right now to see if these sales terrorists could be elevated to the level of concern by the Department of Homeland Security. Still answer yet. Even with my doctored pictures of Colin Powell giving Valerie Plume some yellow cake (I think its yellow cake, the picture is blurry).

The latest is a cell that goes by the name, Trailer Park Terror Productions. These guys call me six or seven times a day trying to get me to invest at least $100,000 for the movie they are currently producing. The movie is called "The Skin Game". The premise is a whore who lives in a trailer park brings men home every night, she seduces them, screws them and then poisons them. She then peels off their skin and sells the skin to burn victim facilties who use the skin on their patients. She also has their corpses grounded up and sells it as organic dog food at the local "Hippie Market".

The Executive Producer just called me and said he rally needs my money in order to finish this project. He was telling me he was on the sound floor at the very moment we were talking. He said there were no actors present or he'd have one of them talk to me.

Another guy calls me up with a thick New Yorker accent, I think it was a New York accent. It could have been from anywhere other then the West Coast. He sounded too much like Vinnie Barbarino too be from anywhere West of the Mississippi. He was interested in selling me stocks.

I answered the phone and for the next five minutes without taking a breath this guy tlls me why I should invest at least $25,000 in stocks he recommends. And then he asks me what my favorite stock was. I know very little about stocks and have mainly invested in property over the years. So I said "AOL".

He began laughing and asked if i had said, "AOL, American On Line?"

I said that's one. He said hey stupid you don't anything about stocks do you? Let me help you.

I hung up of course. Then this morning as I am rolling my fat butt out of bed my business phone rings and its that Vinnie Barbarino dude again. Only he acts like we have never spoken to each other before. His approach was much nocer and he is going to send me his business card and then next week we can talk what stocks we need to look at.

Beside these guys I have been called to invest in a company that refurbishes train cars, a company that invests in NASCAR, a company that buys HUD repos, a company that restores old oil pumps and riggings, and a company that is pursuing the fashion industry.

My question is where are these people coming from? And how did they get my business number? Why are they so damn aggressive and what makes them think I am dumb enough to giuve a complete stranger such a sum of money as they are asking/

Man I'll take the folks from India selling me mortgages excessive charge cards or even the male enhancement cram salespeople over these terrorists any day.

Peace...

Labor Day Weekend

2006-09-03T15:38:00.000-07:00

Friends are on the way over for a bar-be-que and a dip in the freshly painted pool. Mrs. Pirate had me up early cleaning and the kids are still grumping about it. So what do I do? Slip off to my office to blog. What a Pirate.

I'm sure I will end up doing all the cooking and hosting so I am conserving my energy.

The state fair is winding up tomorrow.

I know I'll miss all the dust and the horse mounted deputies that ride past the back of our place every fifteen minutes. My schnauzer just loves the horses.

Raider is his name and letting everything that walks past our place know he is king shit is his game. He doesn't care how darn big you are. He gets to barking and sometimes sounds like those indians in the old western movies. The guy is no bigger then a work boot but he must have a self image of Goliath. He even bosses the black lab around like some squatty husband that is damn lucky he still lives in the old country. I think I'll get him one of those "wife beater" undershirts to wear around. Maybe some stripped boxers and a key chain with 46 useless keys on it. He can stroll around giving everbody the business.

The lab has her ways at getting back at him though. She often beats him to the food bowls. I have noticed at times when they are wrestling she rolls over on top of him and crunches him a bit. Nothing that he could call the cops about but just enough to make him yelp. I've even seen her fart in his face when he was laying down behind her. And she would look up at me and I swear to God, she would have a smile on her face. He would actually get up and move. This is from a dog that loves cruising past the kitty box for almond rocha.

Enough of my so called dog life.

Have a good last weekend of the summer and peace...

Things I Noticed During My Hiatus

2006-09-01T13:25:00.000-07:00

When you take an actual break from blogging you still write them in your own head. Even though I had made a conscience effort not to blog for awhile I still had a comment for most everything. When something caught my attention I always imagined how i would treat that particular event in my blog.

I noticed that those you grow close to in the blog world have as much if not more in common with you then most of those you have actual contact with on a daily basis.

I've noticed those who blog tend to have a good grasp of current events and tend to be better informed. Even if their points of view may be wrong.

I noticed that both the President of Iran and Osama Bin Ladin have the Democrat speaking points down pat.

I noticed that I do not really like Katie Curic and would much rather get my news from Bob Shaffer and Bret Hume.

I noticed that no matter how hard I try I can not be a good baseball fan. Its too darn slow.

I noticed that football still resides at the top for me. High school, college and pro football over baseball any day.

I noticed the Bush detractors still want it both ways. On one hand he is a bumbling boob who would mess up a wet dream and then on the other hand they see him as this great conspirator manipulating the press. They claim he is behind the destruction of 9/11 and now Spike Lee claims he blew up the levees in New Orleans with jet bombers. For the longest time Madaline "Not so" Bright claimed the administartion had Osama on ice and was waiting for the most opportune time to parade him in front of the press. And she was taken seriously.

I noticed that Rockstar is by far the best reality program on the boob tube, that is other then football.

Speaking of football I have noticed it is all about Terrance Owens. Less of course if you are a fan.

I've noticed all TV emmulates each other. Its either a CSI, a Law and Order or a reality program or something very close to these. What ever happened to PIs and Cowboys? I am about ready for a new Tom Selleck, James Garner, or a new rifleman. Is there anyone out there who can write a story that doesn't have a courtroom, a hospital or a cop shop in it? does everything have to have shallow individuals pitted against each other 'til there is only one standing alone in the shit house?

I've noticed there is no such thing as a permenant record. And this big bruhaha about grades only matters when sisters are bragging about their own kids. I graduated at the top of my class, I have a diploma claiming graduated from college and not once has any employer or adult peer asked to see them.

I noticed that Paris Hilton still turns me on in a white trash kind of way and that I am fastly losing my desire to spend another night with Anglina Jolie. I also have noticed that Britney is getting fat and her maturity makes me yearn for the old trailer park.

I noticed that John Mark Karr proves we have a legal system and not a justice system. Because if it weren't for today's technology they would have already had this twirp strapped to a gurney with a needle in his arm. Can you believe this guy?

I noticed when I blog my mind remains sharper and I work better.

Where in the Hell has the Old Salt Been?

2006-08-29T16:31:00.000-07:00

I would like to tell you I have been stuck away in a dank Mexican jail hunting fat rats for dinner or laying about on a rum soaked isle off the coast of Belize. But you all know how I feel about fiction.

When I was here last our family was preparing for our oldest son, Jock to participate at the State Championships in three track events and then to quickly run him through his graduation so we could get him out the door.

Well Jock did make it to the state championships in three out of four of his events, the 400m, and both relays. To make it to Heyward field, possibly the most infamous track field in America, was an end and beginning of Jock's travels. Unfortunately the week before the event he came down with poison oak from head to toe and was not able to practice for over the pevious week. He came to the starting lines exhausted and worn from being ill all week. Their 400m relay got a fifth and he finished ninth in the 400m. If healthy he stood a chance to win the 400m since the winner had a slower time then jock had had the week earlier. His mother and I couldn't have been more proud of him. Now its off to college this fall to run for Western Oregon University.

We were also lucky enough to get him graduated and fortunately for us his diploma was signed. We saw the signature and then had a handwriting analyist examione it with a copy of the principal's signature and they matched.

Slick has been busy as well. He finally passed his driving exam and is running about in a big green car with a lot of metal and no co-pilot. Yes, people. His mother and I wish you all well. So far there has been little dmage other then a parking pilon in a McDonalds parking lot and the basketball hoop in our drive way. But no one has been hurt.

He is currently the elder statesman from our family representing us at the high school and he is doing well. He has stepped up to show others he is quit capble of being in charge and will defend his little sister who is an incoming freshman this year.

Lil Sis has kept us busier then one would want to this summer. She played freshamn summer basketball this year and participated in two camps. She has dreams of the WNBA, in fact all 4'11" of her does. If only you could bottle the etermination she carries and the whole world would be full of "blue chippers". The state fair has been going on here in Salem and she has spent most of her money and time on rides. We live less then 200 yards from the fair and she has made it her annual trek every year. Out her bedroom window she can see the fair being assembled and then after Labor Day disassembled. She has since she was little, uhm littlier, gave us blow by blow updates on the fair. It actually looks rather beautiful out her window at night with all the mechanical movement and the glaring lights.

Blaze bought her first house this summer. I can't believe she actually followed her dad's advise and put her money to work for herself. Its a great little place and in a super neighborhood. She had broken up with the Pirate wannabe and struck out on her own. There was saddness there but we all have recouped.

Mrs. Pirate and myself have been very busy. we have dumped a lot of time, repair and money into our abode. New exterior paint, new fence, roof fixed, and the pool being painted. Along with the home repair we have been extremely busy with my business. I could have never guessed I would be so busy and so fortunate. I had a goal of a certain amount to measure if this would be a good way to spend the rest of my years. That goal was more then doubled by August 1st. Thank God.

Now to more important things. This Bush guy has me worried. You know at first i didn't say anything about him not being clairvoyant and not being able to head off 9/11. Okay. he's human. The iraqi thing? Who didn't think the nut job Saddam wasn't holding some major lead? I mean clinton certainly was afraid of the guy as were the Germans and the French. Then the New Orleans disaster. I mean Bush could have done something to thwart the wind. He has done fine with any newer terrism in the homeland. Why let a little blow job from Katrina make us so blue?

But now he has went and taken the cake. He lost a planet. That's right we don't have nine planets any more. How in the hell do you you that? You just know we would have two new planets, no hurricans, terrorists and certainly no Bradgalina.

Peace...

You just can't trust the weatherman these days

2006-04-30T14:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Mrs. Pirate had me out in the backyard watering all the newly planted veggies and flowers so they wouldn't scorch in the sun while we were at a track meet in the afternoon. Here I was in a T-shirt and shorts watering away and kicking the volleyball across the yard so the lab and Alpha Schnauzer could tear more holes into and soaking up the rays. Then from her throne she yells out, "You better hurry up its 10:30 and we need to get up to St. Helens by noon".

From all directions all you could see was blue sky and the promise of another 82 degree day like the day before. I got a couple of items for the trip, my book (The Amber Room), my reading glasses, my shades and a hat, and some sun screen. This was the type of weekend track meets I like. An invitational where several of the top ranked boys and girls would be competing with each other and a lot of sun. I invisioned my fat Pirate butt, bsking in the sun, eating a sausage dog or two and slapping back plenty of cold soda for the day. Oh yeah, and playing track dad the second to track mom. A no brainer and a perfect way to spend the Saturday. Almost as good as a day of rest in the backyard on a Sunday but with entertainment.

As we drove north on I-5, through Portland and then along the Columbia River to the little berg, St. Helens, I noticed some clouds gathering to the west. They appeared somewhat threatening but I being too darn confident in the wrong times thought they would just blow over. How wrong could I have been?

Dead wrong. And so was the weatherman. It didn't take long for the clouds to find the track meet and the gathering of people in their shorts and T-shirts. Then came the wind followed by downpour. Tents covering various booths were blowing from their stakes and tumbling along the field. The flags that graced the track were flapping violently as if to warn folks it was going to get worse. Mrs. Pirate and myself were huddled together under a small blanket and shivering and clattering our teeth. All the North kids were huddled together desparately trying to stay warm as they waited for their own events. I beleive they were all secretly praying the whole thing would be called off so they could head for the bus. But this isn't baseball. The meet had to go one.

Our boys 4x100m blew the competition away by at least two seconds their time was :43.4. Then Jock took the 100m with plenty of room to spare at :11.1. The coached decided to scratch him out of the 200m and the 400m and make him run in the 4x400m. The 4x400m was running with a team that had not ran together at all this year. Their time was the fourth fastest in the state for the year at 3:28:02. Many of our girls broke personal records by a lot. We had several kids take the top step on the award podium. And some of parents were sent to the mental ward for being downright nuts for standing and sitting in the cold.

When there was a break in the action Mrs. Pirate and I ran over to the local Wally World and purchased all the gloves, socks and scarfs we could find and I bought myself a cheap sweatsuit. The kids couldn't have been any more pleased to don their hands with gardening gloves or white socks. Since the pickings were slim on the clearance table the scarfs were neon green and pink. The color did not sway the boys against the warmth they promised. The track meet went past 8:30 pm. The weather had dropped from 70 degrees to 41 degrees all in that time.

With some luck we have seen the last of a the freeze outs for the season. Why couldn't my kids had liked baseball? At least they have enough sense to come in from the rain.

Peace...

Its been tough to post lately

2006-04-28T12:09:00.000-07:00

With so much to do and so little time to do it in, I have neglected the blog a lot of late. Many times something happens in my coherent moments and i think I should write a post about that. Then I am off to another track meet or a meeting with a potential client. This week we have been to six track meets and had family from out of town staying with us.

Not only is it tough to post it is even tougher to read my favorite blogs and leave comments. I feel like I have been a poor friend or a neglectful participant. But I assure this next week will be different. I have a lot to rant and rave about, plenty to brag about and even more topics to quander.

Right now I just put a Jerry Jeff Walker CD in and will address a report a new client has suggested and concentrate on putting money in the bank and food in the trough. And listen to Mr. Bojangles sip his brews.

Peace...

Escape from Moses Lake

2006-04-22T09:43:00.000-07:00

After going through all the BS with the job in Moses Lake and having to drive my family back through a blizzard in order to open the office the morning after Thanksgiving, I decided I needed to get out of there. Blaze was six years old, starting the first grade and living with her mother in the Salem area. Mrs. Pirate and I knew very few people in Moses Lake. Both of our families lived in Oregon and we were growing tired of the two seasons in Moses Lake, Washington; brown and white.

The company eventually let my boss go because of the time he missed over his son's hunting accident. I went to the VPs of the company and asked if there was a way I could get transferred back to one of the three offices in Oregon. They told me that I was needed in Moses Lake to help the new boss out and help them work with our dealerships. "The new guy needs to get comfortable in Moses Lake before we transfer anyone".

The new guy came and he was as miserable of a person that I had ever met. He hated everything and had no problem expressing his dislike with the staff, the dealers, the weather in Moses Lake (which is tough to handle at first). This guy was addicted to being miserable. No one could possibly be as constantly miserable unless they worked at it. I knew I had to get out of there but the VPs had virtually told me to forget about it until the new boss was comfortable and I never saw that as a possibility. And Mrs. Pirate had a contract through the end of the school year, so we had to bide our time.

Then in March, that following spring, I get a call from the VPs at 4 pm on a Friday night and am told I will report to the Eugene office the next Monday morning at 8 am, or no transfer until another time. I figured they were just yanking my chain because I was always a good boy and did what they wanted me to. It was obvious to me they were throwing this out to showe they were trying to be in my corner but I would never take the immediate transfer because iof the family situation. I was an up and comer and would jump through their hoops at their whim.

Mrs. Pirate supported me and told me to go for it. She could handle her job and the new born, Jock by herself. So I loaded up my pickup on the following Sunday morning and headed south for Eugene, leaving the wife and baby alone until the end of the school year except for the occasional weekend.

I landed in a flea bitten motel in a bad part of Eugene that took less then a week to improve my understanding of the porn world. Paper thin walls and an hourly rate for the rooms were a learning process for this country boy. Eventually I moved to a reputable motel and left my moaning and role playing friends behind.

At first I thought the office was going to be the best place I guy could work. There was me and six other co-workers, all women. I thought how can this be bad? Well, it was hell. My co-workers operated a lot like a pack of wolves, moving across the the terrain salivating from the mouth with their tails deceptively wagging as they were in search of prey.

These six women were the most vicious humans I have ever met. They had a new victim every other day that they could devour which usually was a temp. At least twice a week the pack would turn on one of the other women and shred her from limb to limb until she was a disposed carcase lying in the middle of her own blood. Then they would nurse her back to health and turn on a new victim among them. Luckily they left me alone in that catagory for the first six months.

I was able to make it back home to Mrs. Pirate and Jock one weekend a month that the company paid for. The rest of our love was spent on the phone until the weekend prior to Independence Day. Four months of living in a motel room and fending off the pack in the office. I did manage to eat at ever Chinese restuarant in the Eugene/Springfield area and kept notes of which ones were better.

I had no idea how mean and ruthless women could be to each other in an office situation. It was my first experience in the gender battle ground. Though they were all nice looking to a fault, they all had played the part of a sweet young lady, looking for a career and a good man. But in reality they were battle worn and spiteful. Each one of them put on the airs of being sophisticated and well bred but they were only trying to make each other feel safe and hoping one would drop their guard so the others could lunge into the her weak spot and eat out her core.

Then around the holidays at the end of the year their targets became more random and they began to consider me as new prey. After one week of covering my back and family jewels I was able to find an exit door. I spent more and more time on the road visiting clients and potential new clients. Prior to cell phones I began to increase the revenues of the office from the company car.

Then it finally happened. It was an early Thursday morning and one of the VPs, John Lobland was doing an audit of our office and I happened to be in the office at 6 am and I was planning a company road trip to Eastern Oregon when the VP summond me to his office. At a few minutes after 6 am I sat there while this arrogantly disconnected nub began to read me the riot act. He began to blame me for problems in the office even though I was only the third highest ranking person in the office but I was the only male and had a natural position above the others (at least that was his thinking). He was standing and shouting at me at this early hour about things only the manager was responsible for or could possibly change. This was a man that I had put thousands of dollars in his back pocket from bonuses and company accallodes over the last three years. A man that I had put my own life aside for to garner his favor. And all he could do was take is discontent for the Eugene office out on me. I guess unlike the office manager I was not sleeping with him and I had proven over the last three years I would take his crap. He went on for about 45 minutes of how I owed him for me being transferred to Oregon and how he had went to bat for me and all. It became clear to me right then that he was a self-consumed liar and did not deserve my loyality.

I asked to be excused for a minute and went to my office. I called and asked Mrs. Pirate if she truley loved me she would back what I was about to do. And she affirmed she did. I went back into the VPs office and bascially told him where to put his job. I never looked back.

Though it was tough to find a good job for awhile it was worth it. I found many day or two jobs that paid for hard physical labor and under the table the money came. There were no suits to be worn to these types of jobs but the people were better and the wolf pack was behind me.

The lessons were learned and I moved on.

Peace...

Dale has inspired me

2006-04-19T10:03:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week my blog friend Dale of Colorado had written a post on his blog to express his feelings on a hot topic. He says he began his blogging days for recreation and didn't want to step on any toes but as he grew he realized he wasn't being honest with himself. He was making friends with bloggers who basically try to live their lives in Christ and Dale thought this conflicted with his non-belief in Christ. So he posed an indirect question to his blog friends and others that read his blog. Will he still have friends on the blog if he was honest about his feelings?

Man I sure hope so. From my seat honesty goes a long way. It goes further then anyone trying to convince me of anything I am not sure about. After reading Dale's post and making many comments regarding the post I thought I would come clean. You see, I have never made it public that I dislike, mail carriers, mailmen, postmen, whatever you call them.

You are probably asking yourself, why? Or saying who gives a rat's butt. I mean why in the world would you dislike a socially accepted and community endeared profession. Heck, Norman Rockwell painted them into the fabric of America. Many characters on TV sitcoms have made room for a mail carrying character. Seinfeld had Newman, Cheers had Cliff, Kevin Costner played a futuristic postman. Pirate, how have they hurt anyone? What's your problem anti-mail carrier seadog?

Let me tell you, I have attempted three different times in my life to befriend mail carriers and each attempt has been thrown back into my face. Ten or eleven years ago when the Pirate bood was much smaller we lived in an old house on Kansas street. And there was a mail carrier that seemed to have close friendships with the long standing residence in the neighborhood. So I thought I would be civil and make small talk with him every chance I got. He always responded with a look like he doubted my intentions or that I was trying to get more from him.

Then I tried another angle. I started sharing mail carrier jokes with him. You know the ones that have some dim witted over worked yank, going "postal". Well, guess what? That only made him more weary of me. Then one day he infomred me that I needed to do something with my dog or I was going to have a real problem with him. When he told me this I thought he had me confused with the folks across the street who owned a blood-thirsty Rottweiler. A rottweiler that had gotten its butt kicked by Mrs. Pirate. (a different story for a different time) A rottweiler who only had a small white picket fence between it and all the creatures it desired to eat. But no the postman was miffed at my toy sized weiner dog, Crosby. Apparently Crosby had been sending him bad vibs and failed to use a stamp. That's all I could gather from the request.

So I asked the serial killer wannabe why he had a problem with my killer weiner dog. He told me every time he walks next to my back fence the dog goes nuts and barks crazily at him. Then one day the dog was out front with one of my little boys and the dog chased him down the sidewalk. Keep in mind this dog was the size of a Converse's Chuck Taylor shoe.

I explained to him that the dog was harmless. He then went on a diatribe how people like me have no idea how dangerous little dogs are. He told me the dog hates him and he was seriously worried.

Hates you? I asked. How in the world could he know anything like that?

He told me that they had done studies and proven that dogs hate the uniform of mail carriers. We then stood on the sidewalk debating the intelligence of a dog. I tried to explain to him a dog doesn't know a uniform from a bathing suit. He argued the opposite. I told him I figured the dog only saw this guy come around every day and walk up on the porch and steal something from their owner's black box on the wall. We never got anywhere with this debate and eventually parted when we moved to the current residence.

Then about five years ago our new mail carrier, a Son-of-Sam look alike told me that he was worried about our little weiner dog. He told me that the little dog had chased him down the driveway the other day and he was concerned for his safety. He too used the uniform hating dog theory on me. And he m entioned that the dog had been sending him mental messages of how the dog intended to defame him. Somewhere in the discussion I mentioned how I thought it was weird how mail carriers tended to buy into stupidity quite easily and that may be why they are known for their poor inner-employee relations.

After no mail for a week I decided to contact the postmaster general to see if my debtors had lost my address. I explained to the Postmaster General how our current mail carrier and I disagreed on dog psychology. He said he would talk with the lunatic when he returned from his route. A short while later the Postmaster General called me back and asked me if my address was such and such and I told him it was. He said he found all my mail stuck in a plastic bag in the mail carrier's desk with happy faces and a slash drawn through the happy face on most of my mail.

He then asked me if I could move my mailbox out to the road and away from my house. I told him I could if it meant I would get my mail.

The killer weiner dog has long left us for a mail route in the sky and the mailbox out near the road began to attract our local meth tweekers. So after the third attempt to steal my mail was thwarted last month I decided to move the box back to the front porch. I mean all my neighbors have their mail brought to their front porch and I have always thought the mailbox out by the road looked out of place.

Then last Wednesday the weather was nice and the sky was blue here in the Willamette Valley so I took advantage. I went and bought a new bottle of "Round-up" and began killing weeds in my front yard. Mrs. Pirate who has Wednesdays off, and I were out in front doing the yard thing and enjoying the weather. Along came a new mail carrier. It being a nice day and Wednesday a day of inspiration, I met the mail carrier as he strolled across my lawn with kindness and a "how you doing on this fine day" greeting.

Standing about a foot taller then me he walked up to me and asked me who gave me permission to move my mailbox up to my porch. His demeanor was direct and rude.

What do you mean who gave me permission?

Yeah buddy, you need to get permission from the Postmaster General to move your box.

Hey BUDDY! All the neighbors have theirs on their front porch. I just wanted to blend in.

He then got inches from my face and told me if everyone moved their box it would add three hours to his day.

Then I remembered a postman killed his supervisor the other day in Baker City, Oregon (Mrs. Pirate's hometown) because she added time to his schedule.

Gulp...

Lil Sis has her First Kiss

2006-04-18T19:06:00.000-07:00

When Blaze was ten years younger the boys started lining up. An absolutely beautiful young lady she garnered a lot of attention. At first it was attention not solicited. But after awhile she settled into the new status of no longer the tomboy in the neighborhood. I always told her to never go out with a boy who would not introduce themselves to me. And when they did I expected them to shake my hand with a good gripe and to look me straight in the eye. Evidentlly she spread the word because for the next ten years every time I met a new beau they practically broke my hand in a death stare down.

Then the boys took to chasing the girls. Actually they started noticing from the first day of grade school but it took several years to fester into lust. Over the last few years of high school both boys have maintained some kind of love relationship with a girl. Slick tends to move from one to the next about the same rate of the seasons. On the other hand Jock has basically had three girlfriends over the last five years.

Now things have changed. Last week Lil Sis had reached the first month anniversary. (Who doesn't remember keeping scores by months?). I began to notice over the basketball season that she had started mentioning boys in more of endearing way then we had been accustomed to at our house. This last summer I did hear her mention that she thought one of Slick's buddies was cute but it never really went any further then that. Then this year during basketball practice I would hear her and all the other girls discussing the boys in their class. The conversation took on the flavor of how cute one or the other was. At first I chucked off as puppy love in the beginning. Then their discussions and actions became much more forward. More forward then a mean old Pirate like me was able to comprehend.

Lil Sis being naturally shy and not really all that forward when it came to boys, she began to shed the shy act. A lot because of the prodding by her more "boy crazy" friends she began to actuallt sitting by a particular boy at games or school events. Then there was the winter season dance she went to with a boy but she didn't dance. I was thinking she was only showing interest in order to be cool. I thought deep down she was only expressing her attraction to the opposite sex because it was natures way and she was going along to get along with nature.

Well, I was wrong. The beau down the street from our house she had been talking about for months began to walk his basset hound past our house every evening and out to the field behind our place. Mrs. Pirate and I began to notice he lingered longer then the dog needed almost every night out near the mailbox.

Lil Sis had began to tell us how dreamy he was and how he looked like Dirks Bentley, her celebrity crush. I didn't feel it would ever materilize because we knew the parents and knew how strict they were when it came to young kids dating. The boys mother is a Principal at a Catholic school where he attends. Due to their older dauighter and Jock being classmates and we had been together at many school functions we had many discussions about the youth these days.

A month ago the little guy started inviting Lil Sis to walk with him and his basset hound. Then the talk from her included the Dirks Bentley look alike and the basset hound named, Parker. I knew we were in trouble when she knew the dog's name.

Then she informed us he had asked her to be his sweety and she complied. Uh oh. I began to break out the old epees and honing their points. One evening when they were out walking, Parker. I decided to take out the garbage. And guess who I spotted standing behind the cars in the driveway? Yep, you got it. Two barely five foot tall people, smooching. Two little curly blonde haired kids. It took me back to Triangle Trees.

Then the other night as Mrs. Pirate and i were getting ready for bed she asked if we could come to her room. She had something she wanted to show us. My God I hope it ain't a hicky or tattoo. No she wanted to sing us a song karoke style. On came Jackson Browne. She stood there in her room singing "Rosie". With the stage moves and everything. My lands what happened to my baby? This love thing has made her nuts.

As long as she continues to read the same books as I do so we can discuss them. As long as she demands I tuck her in every night and kisses me good bye at school every morning I may be able to adjust. And as long as the boy keeps a good gripe and can look me in the eye I will not worry.

I don't plan to tell her what the song, "Rosie" is about. At least not yet. She sings it so well. and it assures me she is still my baby.

Peace...

What do I do????

2006-04-17T11:26:00.000-07:00

This last weekend was the XO Invitational at the University of Oregon. It is held at Heyward field where many famous track athletes have showed their wares. The top track athletes of the high school where our sons attend were invited. Jock was seeded fourth in the 400m and 8th in the 200m and their 400x1m relay team was seeded fifth. Jcok enede up third in the 400m, 4th in the 200m and their relay finished 2nd by 100th of a second. So a lot of success was provided for the parents who sat and froze their asses off.

It was the coldest sporting event I can remember ever watching. I have participated in some almost as cold but never have I sat for 12 hours wet and freezing in the downpour and wind just to yell for kids running around in tank tops and shorts. My dad and step mom got a chance to come and watch Jock for the first time. I big tip of that hat goes to them for making it through the meet. They knew only one kid running but they got into yelling for all of them as we did. I think it made them feel warmer.

Then we got a call from Slick. He and Lil sis had stayed home to veg and watch TV as everyone else was out of town. I could barely hear him over the cell phone with the stadium PA mostly drowning him out. He said that my aunt and uncle had dropped off my grandmother at the house while they went shopping. I told him that was great.

He said, "Dad what do we do with her?"

I told him the visit with her. Enjoy the opportunity.

"How do we visit with her?" came the panicked response.

"You tell her what you been up to and what you plan to do and ask her questions".

"But dad she can't hear very well. So now I have to talk really loud to her".

I told him to improvise.

The next morning I asked him what they did with Grandma? They said they called my mother and sister over to have them visit with grandma. Then Blaze came by and rescued them.

I need to start training those two on how to talk with elderly people just in case I live that long and get stuck sitting in their livingroom.

Rerun of my favorite Easter story

2006-04-16T12:07:00.000-07:00

Even though I am a Pirate, I was raised to believe in God. My grandparents always told me that there were no such things as coincidences. When a chain of events happened and there was an unusual result it was all God’s plan. No coincidences just divine intervention. Allow me to share a family story that could be either coincidence or God’s intervention. This is a true story and since it happened on Easter it makes me wonder.
My youngest brother, J.K. is a deputy sheriff. He was working patrol on an Easter morning. An Easter morning that started out with promise of being a warm beautiful spring day. The skies were as clear as the eyes could see. No rain was forecast all systems were “Go”, for a barbeque. That morning was fairly uneventful for J.K. He had a couple stops here and there but minor stuff.
Near the end of his shift a call came from dispatch. There had been an accident on a country road. Apparently, a drunk had been turning his car around and backed over an embankment. J.K. being the senior officer on patrol and it being Easter he radioed to the dispatch and to the other officers, that he’d take the call. Though it wasn’t he told them it was on his route home. He figured that he would get the additional holiday pay and the younger guys could go home.
J.K. arrived at the scene and found that the driver was slightly injured and too drunk to speak clearly and to further complicate matters the driver didn’t speak English. Luckily for J.K. an off duty firefighter happened to be driving by and stopped to assist. The firefighter did not know the driver and didn’t speak Spanish either, but he did know the local area. The firefighter had flagged down the first car that happened by. The driver of the vehicle was an elderly Hispanic gentleman who volunteered to speak to the driver of the car. With the help of the elderly gentleman and the firefighter J.K. was able to determine the driver was not seriously hurt. They were then able to remove him from the car and to get him back up on the road where he would be safer.
After the ambulance took the driver to the hospital for an observation and the fireman went on his way to his family function he was originally driving to, J.K. approached the elderly gentleman to thank him for what he had done. He asked the man for his name and address so the sheriff could send the man an official thank you. At first the man was hesitant to tell a police officer his name, but he eventually got over his fears and told my brother that his name was, Jose Salazar. A common Spanish name but not a common name in our neck of the woods.
As my brother was writing down the gentleman’s name he remembered a conversation he, my middle brother and myself had had several months before. You see my middle brother, was quite the swordsman. Prior to his marriage he had lived the life only a gigolo would envy. Tall, dark and handsome with killer green eyes and wavy brown hair he had attracted more than his share of lovely women. But there was one lovely girl he had not been as careful with that haunted him. Apparently, twelve years ago he had met and made love to this beautiful Hispanic girl who claimed to be a virgin and wanted him to be her first experience. Being like the rest of our Pirate family he had no problem fulfilling this girl’s wishes.
He told us that it was one of the loveliest nights of his life and he believed it to be the same for the girl. In the future my brother attempted to see the girl again but she must have felt ashamed and refused his calls. Time went by and he moved on. He moved on to a new town and a new way of living. He eventually took a common law wife and had two little girls of his own.
Several years later the state welfare department who wanted to know something about this evening with the beautiful girl approached him. He admitted to the encounter and took responsibility for the boy he knew nothing about. He got a loan and paid the back support and had the designated amount withheld from his paycheck to support the girl and the baby boy. He had tried to contact her family and was told that she had moved to another state and they had no way of contacting her. The family did provide him with two pictures of the boy and an address where he could send anything he wished the boy to have. He was told the boy’s name was Michael and he lived somewhere with his mother.
Since my brother no longer lived in our area he had asked that J.K. or myself to keep our ears open if we ever came across anyone in the area with the last name of Salazar. J.K. had remembered this name and decided to approach the elder gentleman about his last name.
J.K. told the man that he had to ask him something that sounds a little strange but did he know of a little boy, who would be around twelve, who had the name of Michael Salazar? J.K. explained why he was asking and the elder man instantly began to cry. The elderly man began speaking only in Spanish; he crossed himself and continued with his tears.
Recognizing the last name of my brother from the tag on his uniform the elderly man told him that he had a grandson with that name, whose father he had never met, but shared the last name with my brother, J.K. After further discussions they both decided it was the same boy. The elderly man continued by telling J.K. how he and his wife had raised their grandson as their own and had promised their daughter that they would never allow the grandson to bother his real father. The mother had felt guilty and had decided that she would stay away from my brother and allow the boy to grow up fatherless.
The boy had been receiving Christmas gifts and birthday gifts from my brother for sometime and he had a picture of my brother he carried with him at all times. But the boy had no idea where his father lived or how to contact him. Neither did the grandfather.
From this happenstance meeting between Michael’s grandfather and my brother life changed forever for all involved.
Over the next two weeks my brother and the grandfather cooked up a scheme to convince the boy’s mother that the boy needed to meet his father. Shortly, our family had grown by one more Pirate, a Pirate who currently is serving this country over seas in the USN.
I eventually got the opportunity to sit down with the grandfather and was able to get his side of the events of that day. He told me that that particular morning the weather had started off beautifully. He and his wife and Michael had gone to mass that morning. After church the skies had clouded up. It was the family custom to have Easter brunch at their home every year. Prior to going to mass they had set up their patio to cater to the brunch and to handle their large family. Now that the rain was on its way plans had to change. His wife had requested that he move the brunch into the garage. As he was setting up the tables and the trappings the garage lights mysteriously burned out. He had replaced them only a week or so before and found that to be unusual for fluorescent lights. His wife told him that the brunch was still going to be in the garage and he had best headed his rear into town and get some new lights. As he was getting into his truck the wife told him that she could see some police lights off over the hill from their property and he should stop over there and see what was going on. Since he never drove that direction into town and the fact he had just had a little glass of wine he decided to avoid going by the police. Just as he drove to the end of his drive way and was turning the other direction an off duty fireman that was one of his son’s friends drove by towards the police lights. Mr. Salazar turned onto the country road and proceeded towards town. As he drove he had a feeling of guilt come over him. Maybe there was trouble over where the policeman was and just maybe the off duty fireman was going to assist. So he turned his truck around and drove toward the flashing lights. The rest is history.

Pirate is upright again

2006-04-14T12:03:00.000-07:00

I am feeling a ton better then the last week. I have had a terrible sinus infection, along with a bad bought with asthma. With the over the counter drugs and the doctor prescribed ones I was real loopy and unable to spend much time doing anything constructive.

Thank god it has started to rain again in the valley so now I can breathe. Though this time of the year is so beautiful it gets worse on me every year. The pollen of the cherry blossoms and maple here in the Willamette Valley tend to render me nuts.

I have not even reada blog nor looked at mine for sometime. I feel that I have been ignoring a good friend. I appreciate all that were wondering what ever happened to the Pirate.

Track season has been going well for the North Salem High Vikings. They were picked to finish 8th out of ten teams. So far they have been kicking allcomers butts. They pounded the rich school, sprague the other day, 100 points to 35. The boys team is 3 and 1 and the girls have yet to meet lose.

My boys have been doing great Slick continues to better his personal record in th 1500 meter and the 3000 meter ever race. I am also starting to see a little bit of competitiveness emerge from him. As for Jock he curently has the third fastest time in the state for the 400m and he broke the school record at 50.1. This weekend he will be running at the University of Oregon's Heyward field. The place where Steve Prefontain ruled, where the PAC 10 finals are often held and many Olympic trials, not to mention the annual state championship meet. It is an invitation put on by the Duck alums. He is seeded very high in the 400m race and medium for the 200m. Their 4x100m relay is picked to finish fourth. As a proud dad I am ready for the whole thing to get going.

I'm hoping to see Joe Valsetz and his daughter there as well. Joe's daughter attends another Salem school but his daughter is a conference favorite in the 800m. If you are interested you can go to XO.com and read the results by Monday. Look for the name Wheeler from North Salem High School and you will see how Jock does.

The house is really shaping up after all the hard driving slave work Mrs. Pirate has imposed on all of us. All the bedrooms are painted. The bathrooms are sparkling, and the living room and my office is next. My new fence for the backyard goes up next week or the week after depending how I feel.

I have not been writing much of late because of how crappy I was feeling. I have read a few good books though. "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote and "Night" by Elie Wiesel. I have not heard anything from the magazine I submitted three of my stories to. I guess no word is good.

Other then that that is all I know right now...

Peace...

Pirate has been down of late

2006-04-05T10:10:00.000-07:00

I have not been able to post anything of late because I have been dealing with a bad cold, hay-fever, and sore back. All I was capable of dong the last two days was sleep (because of the medicine), read and watch TV.

Yesterday was the nicest day of the hear in the Willamette Valley and all I could do was cough, sneeze, fart and ache. I have been walking around the house trying to do some business work, get my taxes done and blowing my nose.

Tomorrow I am going out on the road to talk with some potential clients and hope I can pursuade them to do business with me and not Sir Von Asswipe. I figure just dropping by their offices armed with a business card and a smile I might shake something loose. If not I at least got out and squeezed some hands.

Be careful I just sneezed all over the screen.

Peace...

I'm pooped

2006-04-03T13:35:00.000-07:00

After thrity trips to WalMrt for another gallon of paint and God knows what else, the family finally got three bedrooms painted. Mrs. Pirate, god love her, had us working our butts off the last four days. We are preparing the house for her family's arrival for Jock's graduation this June.

I don't want you to get the wrong idea about our house. We have a nice house; four bedrooms, two baths, family room, living room, kitchen and den, two-car garage and swimming pool. But after eleven years in a house where you have raised three kids you need some upgrading. I think Mrs. Pirate has a plan to do it all in a month. You'd think she was inviting the Queen mother or the press to our house for the graduation. She has us scrubbing walls, painting, tiling, painting, washing, painting, shampooing, etc...

I was never so glad to take her to work this morning at 6 am. Oh, the spring ahead thing, wrong weekend for me. I am pooped. The last thing I needed was one hour less of sleep. And not to mention we are getting new blinds in the bedroom so we had nothing covering our windows this weekend. So the ever so damn happy sun had to wake me up so DAMN EARLY. I'm sorry I'm not a morning person. I prefer staying up later, reading, writing, watching a littel boob tube, hit the bed around 1 am or 2 am and get up around 9 am. The sun and Mrs., Pirate had a different schedule in mind for me.

You should have seen the smile on my face as I waved to Mrs. Pirate as she entered her building at work, it was one of those bird in the cat's mouth smiles. Then I bolted home got the three kids off to school, dropped them off and drove like a madman home, locked the door, put the yippy dog in the bedroom, unplugged the ringer on the phone, put a blanket over the window and went back to sleep until 10:30. I love spring break, when its over.

But I feel much better and have been very productive after getting my early nap.

Don't be saying anything about me being lazy or whatever, that's the benfits of being your own boss. Tomorrow I plan to be back to my wound up self.

Peace..

I prayed Hard for this Job

2006-03-31T09:52:00.000-08:00

When Mrs. Pirate and myself graduated from college we moved to Ephrata, Washington. She had landed a job there in the Middle School as a Special Education teacher and I looked for work. After a month of searching and taking odd jobs I finally was hired by a finance company, a Gulf & Western Company no less. You know the ones. The companies that have lending practices that are barely legal. A couple comes in borrows $2,500 at 25% which takes them fifteen years to pay off.

We eventually moved closer to the office in Moses Lake, Washington. I had prayed for this type of job ever since I was a kid and watched those who had more then us and admired the men in suits. They looked like they had so much more then the "working folk" of which I was part.

I had grown up in a logging community and had worked my way through college in a plywood plant and basically knew nothing but the timber industry. Before working at the finance office I had worn a tie only for church, weddings and funerals. Now I had an office job. A job with a desk, a phone, an expense account and a computer. I was expected to wear a suit and tie every day except Fridays. On Fridays we let go in the office and removed out ties. "No Tie Fridays".

I complained to my friends and family about the attire but secretly I thought I had arrived. No more dirty sweaty work. No more flannel shirts, longjohn underwear, and working boots and gloves. It was high class time for me. You know with a haircut, three-piece suit, dress shoes and a tie I cleaned up pretty good. I was Mr. GQ. The movie "Wall Street" was the hit at the time. A movie that glorified greed and made it clear that all success was measured monetarily. Those who snoozed, winced, worried, cried or hesitated; lost. Plain and simple it was not what you thought, how you treated others, how you felt inside of yourself that ws important. What was important was how you looked and how you ended up with more of the money then the other guy.

I had went from a grubby little logging town imp to a powerbroker, a businessman. A person who could decide the future of others and decide how much I was gonig to charge them for it. And if for some reason the borrower thought they could ignore our arrangement I could be relentless in making them pay back or else.

It wasn't long before I developed a position in the community that allowed me to look down my nose at others. I could walk into a client's restuarant or tavern and they would immediately wait on me and waive the charge for my meal or drink. It wasn't long that some of the local powerbrokers were calling me aside and inviting me to their fraternal clubs and shady dealing.

I began to look at the blue-collar worker as potential profit. I attended community events for commercial purposes. I took every opportunity to make money for my employer and all I wanted in return was good pay, special perks and a pat on the back for doing a good job. Every other month I was awarded the employee of the month for the district. A district that covered Washington, Oregon and Hawaii. I was driven every month to be the "Golden Boy" and I was determined to be the president of the multi-national corporation I was working for someday. I put bonuses in my boss' pocket and his boss' pockets. I had shed my skin as a son of blue-collar workers and had arrived at the "white-collar" party.

When I went home to see my family and friends I had a little different walk. I drove a nicer car. I had more money at my disposal. I had become better then the lowly people I had originated from. The way I spoke, laughed, and treated people had changed. I was simply better then I use to be. It was obvious by looking at my wallet and the type of work I was doing. I was 25 years old and already making more money then my parents ever had.

Then eventually my conscience crept back in. No, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

One Thanksgiving we had went home to visit my family and to introduce our month old son to my family. My father was in the hospital recovering from a heart attack. My parents had recently divorced and what I knew as my past was completely disrupted. I was sitting at a table playing a card game of Uno with my siblings when the phone rang. It was for me. My boss called from Moses Lake, Washington to tell me his son had been shot in a hunting accident and he needed me to call the Vice President of the company and explain how he was not going to be able to open the office the day after Thanksgiving and that the office needed to either not open that day or get someone else over there.

I called the VP at his house in Pullayup, Washington. He got on the phone and listened to what I had to say. He then began to rip into me. Calling me all kinds of names, most beginning with the letter "F" and wanted to know why I had went to Oregon to see my family when there was much to do in the office. Standing in my mother's living room surrounded by my family I listened to this ungratful SOB read me the riot act for doing exactly what he was doing right that very moment. Spending the holidays with his family.

This was a man that I had made financially successful over the last three years. A man that I had given up many of my own morals and time for. And what did I get in return was a smack across the head. He told me that the office better be ready for business by opening time tomorrow morning (8:00 am) or I was fired. It is a 8 to 10 hour drive from Salem, Oregon to Moses Lake, Washington, that's in good weather. At this very moment the Pacific Northwest was experiencing a snow storm.

At 8:00 pm I bundled my wife and new baby up in the car and started for Moses Lake. We drove all night in a blizzard. At times I could barely see the road but I had to make it back. When we made it back to Moses Lake I dropped the family off at home and bolted for the office. Arriving at the office at 7:30 am I had time to spare. The phone rang at 8:00 am sharp. It was Marv Cobal, the VP. All he said was you are lucky, boy and hung up.

I sat in that office all day by myself and not one client called or came in to the office. It was a useless day. I had left my family back in Oregon who needed me. I had driven my wife and child through a snow storm endangering them for what?

From that day forward I began to plot my exit and developed a plan to get back to the Willamette Valley of Oregon on the company's dime and I broke out my old blue-collar.

So be damn careful for what you pray for...

Peace...

Pirate sexy?

2006-03-30T10:46:00.000-08:00

Someone out there has either went around the bend or has found a new way to do prank phone calls. Apparently someone named "dd" has nominated the Pirate as one of the sexiest males bloggers at bestofblogger.blogspot.com.

I'll admit there is a little meglamania in me and I have had days I am completely egocentric but sexiest has never been my goal. Oh, maybe when I was in college and trying to get the attention of the cute blonde in my statistics class, sexiest may have worked. But as a 46 year old Pirate?

I have a couple ideas who this "dd" is. It could be the infamous Reverend Doctor Abigambi. He does little on Wednesdays other then sit around his office and grade under-grad's papers, leaving little notes of guidance, encouragement and his personal cell number in the margins. He also has been seen around Portland using my moniker in order to get free drinks at the pubs along the banks of the Willamette. I also think he has had a hard time forgetting about that camping trip in the Olympias we took when we were young coeds. He has never forgiven me when he found out that I participated in a sit-in during the 1980s demanding a nuclear freeze. He agreed with the direction of the protest but he was actually miffed to find out that most of the guys from our college house were only participating because of the free weed, free beer and the potential for free butt.

If it isn't the Rev. Dr. it could be the robotic psycho-tech UB6IB9. Ever since I gave the cyborg his freedom when I was in my mid-20's, he has spent many of his nano-time trying to get back into my social circle. He constantly leaves messages on my telephone recorder and my cell. Messages of beep,beep bip, bip, bift can easily be traced back to him. I caught him talking to my lawn mower the other night and he tried to say he didn't know that the Briggs and Stratton was mine, he thought I would own a Snapper. Yeah, like people never change.

Then it hit me. It could be Sir Von Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach. She always had the eye on me and he knew it. Ever since I dissed her on the way she eats red licorice, telling the blogworld that it looked like a wilderbeast kill at a watering hole in Africa. Plus you just know that sawed-off, pip-squeak has had it in for me for some time because I blocked his advances with a knee to the groin. He took the blow as a promise to things to come.

Even Can-O-Corn is not above suspicion. He has never forgiven me for buying an electrical can opener.

Man, you just know it is one of these characters.

I suggest you all go to this blog site and nominate male bloggers who have the tools and the ability to carry such honor for a year. I would encourage nominations of, Hoss, Dale, Big White Hat, or the Stringman and leave this old Pirate out of it.

Go vote and allow you own sexiest blog star baste in the glow of glory.

Peace...

A Couple Movie Reviews

2006-03-29T15:04:00.000-08:00

I had to see what all the hubbub was about this year's Oscar nominated movies so I rented Good Night and Good Luck; Capote and The History of Violence. I couldn't bring my self to rent the Brokeback Mountain movie because there was just too damn much light in the Blockbuster. If they would have had a curtained area like a lot of the other video stores I patronize, maybe. With my luck I would have rented it and one of my manly Pirate crew would have been coming into the store as I was leaving and they could have seen me renting the "Gay Cowboy" movie and my reputation as a Pirate would have been in jeopardy. Hell, my reputation already is in jeopardy after I told the blogworld I liked chick flicks. But I had a response for that one. "I like them (chick flicks) because it allows me to get a better understanding of what women want in a relationship". I don't think I want to use that one for the Brokeback Mountain flick.

As I said I did check out three of the films that had nominations. First, The History of Violence is down right crap. It is poorly done and makes little if any sense. It has a lot of violence, obviously, but it just doesn't cut it as a good movie. I did like William Hurt's character and his rendition of it but I am bias since he has a family connection. I would save your money and rent anything else.

Secondly, Good Night and Good Luck. It is shot in black and white to depict the era. I hate to say that because "era" wasn't all that many years before I was born. It is well written and covers a historical event and its characters as well as any historical film does. I like the performances and the message is strong. We live in a great country and we all should be free to think and believe the way we want to without reservation or threat of imprisonment. I think the witch hunts in anytime in our nation's history reveals a little too much of who we are and where we have been as a country. And its not all pretty.

But I did have a few problems with the movie and the message. Joseph McCarthy was a staunch warrior in the FDR movement. Though he was a Republican only because of the position of the Democratic party in Wisconsin at that time he was always a FDR supporter and ran in close proximity of Joseph Kennedy and his machine. There is some reason the historical movies, documentaries and debates seem to want to leave the Kennedy connection out of it when discussing the Red Hunt. The Kennedy's were as deep in this Red Scare as any political power group in Washington at that time. Furthermore, there was at the time a real effort underway to undermind the United States and there were many in this country's entertainment industry and political industry that were bent on bringing the USA down. This has been proven over and over after the fall of Communist Russia through an array of documents.

That said it was a good movie and very well done. It is worth watching but I would encourage others to do a little research for themselves to fill in the blanks. George Clooney certainly has a political agenda with his rendition of the events at that time.

Capote. It is slow, leaves a lot to imagination, disjointed at times and is very well photographed. I think it also catches the essence of Truman Capote with the outstanding performance by Phillip Seymour Hoffman. He received a well deserved Oscar for his acting.

I am far too bias to write an objective review because I love Capote's work, I love Hoffman's acting and anytime a movie displays the life of a writer I fall into deep admiration borderling on envy. I can not get enough about the writers before our time and I simply love any story about them.

To have a peek at the life of Harper Lee and Truman Capote, life-time friends, considered literary giants by me, I get all wrapped up. When I was watching the movie I saw Dill and Scout following Jem on another adventure to draw Boo Radley out of his dark and dingy house or to get a peek at him sitting in a dark corner of his home. I see the cabbage patch fiasco and hear the long winded tales spun by the summer visiting Dill.

If you like the life of a writer and you will like the idea of developing a novel, which this is what the movie is all about, you will like this movie. If you have never read any of the works by Capote of Harper Lee's infamous book you may find this movie boring.

I would suggest Capote, then Good Night and Good Luck and forget about The History of Violence but that's me.

I would be remiss not to tell my favorite story about Truman Capote. Truman Capote was quit the celebrity about town-type. He spent a lot of his time in the social limelight with many surrounding him and gayly listening to his story telling. He garnered a lot of attention. One night as he was with friends telling another long story he was approached by a bossomly admirer who bared her breast and asked if he would autograph her breasts. Truman the true showman he was, obliged. The admirer quickly shot off to show her table of friends. Her jealous husband not wanting to be out done approached Truman's table and requested that Truman autograph a part of his body. The man then unzipped and displayed his penis to Truman Capote and all those sitting at the table. After seeing the appendage displayed inches from his face, Truman Capote remarked in his gay southern twang, "My sir, you may be too small for me to sign my full name but I would be more than happy to initial it for you".

Don't blame me if you don't like either of these movies or you love them all I am not Roger Ebert.

It is Wednesday and I hope you inspired someone today.

Peace...

Spring Break News

2006-03-28T11:37:00.000-08:00

Not a lot going on this week since I have a house full of teenagers. I love these guys so much I think it might be a good idea of I go to Borders and just hang out, read and pound coffee.

But I did notice some interesting things going on in the news and thought I should bring them to the attention of my blog and make a comment or two.

In St. Paul, Minnesota the city's Human Rights Director, Tyronne Terrill has ordered the removal of a Easter Bunny and its trappings from the city hall. He claims it represents a Christian holiday and non-Christians could be offended. I do not know if Mr. Tyrone Terrill has ever opened the Bible but I wish someone would let him know that Christians do not worship rabbits, fake grass and those terribly tasting marshmellow candies.

Casper Weinberger passed away the other day. For all you protestors that despise this country and for what it stands for you may want to give old Casper a thought. If it wasn't for the likes of people like Casper Weinberger you probably wouldn't have the right to protest against the USA. Because of his dilligence and unwavering stance as the Secretary of State of the USA against the Soviet Union and their position to hold Europe hostage with their nuclear weapons. Supporting Ronald Reagan, Casper Weinberger ignored all the names hurled at him by the protestors that thought that Reagan and Weinberger's tough stance would lead to the demise of Europe and the USA. Well where is the Berlin Wall today?

We also lost the grinning Buck Owens the other day.

Today is Elbow Macaroni Day.

A man and his wife recently purchased $43,343.33 worth of Whoopers the other day. A cashier at a Burger King over charged the couple when they bought lunch. The couple did not notice the overcharge on their pay stub. And to make matters worse the cashier closing out the till later did not think it was too strange to have done so much business that day. Now I will listen to Mrs. Pirate when she tells me to check the receipt.

A man in New Delhi, India was required to stick to his divorce from his wife for 100 days before he will be allowed to remarry her. Apparently the fellow had mumbled the word "talaq" three times when he was in a heavy sudated sleep. The word is a Muslim word that means "I divorce you". If an Islamic man recites the word three times to his wife he is automatically divorced. According to the authorities it did not matter that he was asleep. He still must abide by the Islamic law.

Now its much more clear to me why these folks get upset over cartoons in a newspaper. I am confident the attorneys of this country are making damn sure we never adopt that law.

In Denver, Colorado a dummy driver is being sold on eBay for $15,000. I hope he doesn't end up driving in Los Angeles or Boston.

Sharon Stone mentioned the other day in an interview that she thought that peace between the Arabs and Israel was only a "breathe" away. While touring the Middle East to promote her new movie "Basic Instinct II" she was asked questions about the Middle East strife. God only knows why.

In other news Sharon Stone claims she is trying to promote oral sex. She was shopping the other day and over heard a discussion between a teenage girl and the girl's mother regarding showing too much belly with the shirt the girl wanted to purchase. When the mother left the area Sharon Stone approached the girl and encouraged her to take up oral sex because it was safer then intercourse and annal sex. Now it is much clearer to me what Sharon Stone meant by a piece is only a breath away.

Today is also breath mint day in Oregon.

Don't go getting all upset with me. This is just the way I found the news.

Peace....

Spring Break

2006-03-27T15:26:00.000-08:00

It ain't easy being a work at home dad during spring break. The morning was easier then usual because I only had to give Mrs. Pirate a ride to work. No taxi work for the teenagers. No they slept in until 9:30. The only reason the boys got up at all was they had track practice. Little Sister who has risen in fame of late decided it was a great day to see what she could pump from dad.

At first she claimed there was nothing to eat in the house and was wondering if we could go through the drive in at McDonalds. "Besides dad don't you want to try their new coffee?". I know darngood and well there was plenty to eat because I personally went to WalMart Superstore and laid out over $200 yesteray for nothing but food. She was relentless. She knows my weaknesses for good coffee and cheap breakfast sandwiches. I threw out everything I could to block her shots to my chinked armor. But eventually she broke me down and we did the drive through thing. McDonald's new coffee was not all that bad. Strong and hot like it should be. I then tried pouring some on my lap but chickened out.

When track practice was over and our home became Grand Central "Hang out". Along with the girlfriends came the best buddies and a few tag alongs. Some friends gathered in the living room to watch "The History of Violence", some crowded into Jock's room to play one of his loud video games and two or three ended up in Slick's room to play on his computer and harrass classmates on "My Space" and play phone tag. Apparently a couple of them decided they needed to take a shower at our house instead of the showers at the school. All pleasant kids they are but a house full when you're trying to write and do research it is not easy.

Eventually most left for the mall to catch a movie and to bother other adults. That left Slick and his buddy Jake at my disposal. I talked them into going to the gas station with me and bribed them with a candy bar and soda. When we got home I showed them how the lawn mower worked. I showed them how cool it was that God made their hands fit the handle so perfectly. I ended up doing the front yard as an example of the joys in lawn mowing and left the two goofs doing the back yard.

When I got back to my computer and the house was empty except for the mowers in the back yard I once again attempted to do some work. Then I heard the lawn mower having troubles. Then I was summond to the back yard to help. The two mowers apparently tipped the lawn mower over too far and got oil in the air filter. Now I am far from a mechanic let alone a small engine repair guy. Hell, I don't even have a shirt with my name on a patch let along know much about repairing things mechanical. I just know a couple basic things like filling it up with gas, checking the spark plug and checking the air filter. Luckily the problem fell within my realm of repair.

Sweaty, bitchy and feeling a little behind nothing, I finally got back to work. I got my headphones on, Emmylou Harris singing about a red road when Slick and his sidekick showed up in my office again. "Dad could you give us a ride to the mall?" I could easily say no, but then they would be nearby, plotting something else. So I loaded the two in the rig and ran them to the mall.

Finally, I sat down to get at least two hours of uninterupted work in. The phone rang, Mrs. Pirate decided to get off early to come home to spend some time with the kids. I told her they were all dead and thrown off a bridge. She said good, come get me and we can have sometime together uninterupted.

Don't you just love Spring Break. I think next year I'll plan a vacation where wet T-shirts are the norm and drunk teens are calling for the shots. It would definately be quieter and easier to work.

At least in ain't raining....

Peace...

Busy Saturday

2006-03-25T11:51:00.000-08:00

We have the bathroom floor all ripped up and are laying tile this morning. The Mrs. has us doing all kinds of repairs and upgrades to get ready for Jock's and little Sister's graduations in June. Painting, sanding, repairing are definately not my ideas of a good time. It sucks being married to a responsible adult. I would have preferred living in a condo where you pay for all the up keep. Good thing its raining or I'd have to mow the yard too. Calgone take me away!!!

The writin g has ben going along great and I have gotten a lot of advice and assistance as far as research materials and things to think about as you navigate through the jungle of the first. I have recently submitted three of my short stories to a publication so lets hope the pick them up.

The track meet went great the other day. Slick broke his 3,000m personal record by 54 seconds. He went out there and did his best and battled through his own doubt. We are so damn proud of him. He doesn't run the race all that fast but he has potential that is untapped. His time was 11:07. If he can drop it down another minute by the end of the year he will letter as a JV member.

Jock had his usually spectcular showing. He got a second in the 400m with a 51.0 flat he was a little off his best. If he had ran his best time of 50.1 he would have won easily. He got a second in th 200m at 22.1. And the relay teams 4x100m and the 4x400m blew away the competition. Their 4x100m was 42.1 and I forgot the 4x400m. Jock ran the final leg of the 4x400m and recieved the baton in last place. Three second behind the back of the pack. He caght the pack going into the final corner and came out of the corner in the lead and won by at least two seconds. He is currently experiencing celebrity status at school. But he seems to have his head screwed on well. He still is living by our family motto, "Be humble or be humbled".

I was a bit concerned about Slick being in the shadow so I asked him point blank and he asked me if I was kidding. He says dad being Jock's younger brother is the best job a guy could possibly have. He told me he loves Jock so much he is as happy as anyone else for him. Plus it is a great way to meet girls. He told me that a lot of people will come up to him at school and ask if he is Jock's little brother and he gets to baste in the celebrity too. I did notice at the meet he was surrounded by girls all day before his race. He didn't look like he was in any pain.

I was recently asked why I don't have a cute name or a better nickname for Little Sister. Th reason is is because she has such a real name that is so unique it didn't seem right to stretch from it. She also picked Little Sister herself. She has been on me of late for not writing anything about her. It seems my two daughters are the only family members to read the blog. No wonder why they are the smartest people in the family.

Mrs. Pirate and Slick are back from the store so I gotta get back to work. Damn... I'll sprinkle some water on my brow so I look like i've been busting my butt since they were gone..

Peace...

Seven Songs

2006-03-24T10:08:00.000-08:00

My local resident and blogfriend Addict has listed seven songs she plays the most and threw out a hospice tag. Meaning if you want to do it, do it. If not don't.

I am listing seven songs my family will automatically sing along with no matter where these are played. You will see how my influence on these people works.

1. Cheeseburger in Paradise. Jimmy Buffett

2. Jukebox Hero, Foreigner

3. Squeeze Box, The Who

4. Schools Out, Alice Cooper

5. Up Against the Wall You Redneck Mother, Jerry Jeff Walker

6. Let's Get Drunk and Screw, Jimmy Buffett

7. Our God is an Awesome God. Rich Mullins

Honorable mentions:

Joy to the World, Three Dog Night

Never Been to Spain, Three Dog Night

Sweet Home Alabama, Lynard Skynard

Your Cheating Heart, Hank Williams

Rhinestone Cowboy, Glenn Campbell

Folson Prison Blues, Johnny Cash

Please don't call the authorities on me because I have so much more to teach them.

Keeping track

2006-03-23T08:04:00.000-08:00

You thought the Pirate family was busy during the basketball season. Track season is here and we are off and running. Both boys are on the track team at their high school and the little sister will be running for her middle school.

Jock is off to a great start for the season. Last week at the Silverton Icebreaker Invitiation he ran the second fastest 400m in the state at 50.9. He tied for first for the 200m at 22.1, which was the second best in the state as well. And another second best in the state the varsity 4x100m relay ran a 42.1. Folks that is some fast times for the first meet of the year that had a strong front wind in the final stretch, hail and rain. Jock has prepared himself for this year. He has been hitting the weight room every morning. He ran cross country which he hated. He went to a running camp this last summer that was located at 9,000 feet elevation in the high desert of the Steens Mountains in Southwest Oregon. He ran on the winter track team where he went to an indoor meet at University of Washington where he finished 15th place out of 60 for the 400m runners. He was the only high school participant. He's ready and I pray for his sake and his super fan, mom's sake, that he stays healthy and keeps up the progress all the way to the state meet at the end of the year.

Slick, who is currenlty only running the 3,000m had an interesting thing happen in his race. The 3,000m is 7.5 trips around the track. The meet officials actually screwed up the count and the 3,000m ended up running 8.5 laps. So their times were not officially acceptable. So Slick has to wait for the meet today to have an official time mark. I kept telling him all week he was my favorite 2 mile and a quarter runner in the state.

Slick is in this for the girls. He already has a cute little girlfriend for the season. In the past he did the pole vault as well as the 1,500m and the 3,000m. but this year one of the other pole vaulters informed Slick at the beginning of the season that he was in love with Slick and Slick's girlfriend.

The young man who did pole vault with Slick last year had decided somewhere along the line he was going to approach Slick with his dilemna. So at the first of the year he told Slick that he was in love with him. Needless to say Slick has focused on other events. I told Slick that he has nothing to worry about. He agreed. He just explained to me he didn't want to be around the other boy when there are 10' poles involved.

Little sister is off an running the 1,500m for her middle school. She also has her first boyfriend. This has been an interesting development in our home. The boys have always had the girls they liked and they have been very open about their feelings about these girls. Now that the little sister has a beau who comes to take her for a walk in the neighborhood every evening the boys are a little uneasy about it. We have known the young man for years through his parents. they are a nice family in our neighborhood. The mother is a principal at a Catholic middle school so the boy doesn't attend my daughter's school. Therefore, all there getting together is after school and under the strict scrutiny of her brothers.

The other night we had our first experience with all three of the kids who are at home with their lovebirds. Mrs. Pirate and I got a kick out of watching and listening to the babes on their way out of the nest. I was wondering where all the gray hair was coming from.

Well, I am off and running today. Mrs. Pirate has a long list of to dos for me today and we have contractors coming tomorrow to remodel the upstairs bathroom. So I have to go get things ready.

Peace...

Blogger is messing up

2006-03-22T11:22:00.000-08:00

I have noticed several previous posts of late having words of mumble jumble in them that I did not type. I have noticed pictures changing and so forth of late. Keep a good eye on blogger I think its going nuts.

Wednesday is for Inspiring

2006-03-22T10:41:00.000-08:00

In the blog world we love to give a day in the week a celebratory meaning. We have Half-Nekked Thursdays, Hump Day Wednesday, Moaning Mondays, Terrible Tuesdays, Thank God its Fridays and so on and so on.

Well I want to start a new weekly practice for Wednesdays. No, I don't want to slight Hump Day Wednesday because for sake of God who doesn't like Hump Day. What I am proposing will not effect Hump Day at all. It may broaden its meaning or make it more exciting.

I propose Inspiration Wednesday. A day we all focus on a specific person or group and try to inspire them. Inspire them to be the best for that day. Inspiring them to keep their heads up and be positive, productive, successful, strong and inspiriational to others.

There are many ways to inspire. There are billions of people to be inspired. As I mentioned in an earlier post that inspiration is a gift that keeps giving. Every time you inspire another their outlook on life improves, your outlook improves and anyone aware of the inspiration has a positive affect on their lives as well.

Some of the ways I like to inspire is to take the time to tell someone that I had observed them doing this or that and I wanted to let them know how impressed I was. A good example was a week or so ago Mrs. Pirate and I were at the dreaded teacher/parent conference at the high school. As we moved from one teacher to other for our two boys and we heard the samething from each. "Mr. & Mrs. Pirate we enjoy having your boy, Slick or Jock in our class and they are very good kids and they get along with everyone and they have leadership skills, they do wll in class but have a problem turning in their homework, blah, blah, blah".

We eventually got to a teacher who was young and he appeared to be exhausted from the day. He began to tell us the same thing about the boys. Believe me I love what they have to say about my boys but it has been the same thing since they were first graders. Nothing changes, there is never anything alarming that needs to be addressed.

So I took the opportunity to tell this young teacher that I thought what he had done the prior track season for a boy who is one of those that practically lives with us was one of the greatest things I have ever seen. This boy I speak of has always been a favorite around our home since he and Jock became best of friends when they were in elementry school. This boy who graduated last year has all the physical skills in the world to be anything he ever wanted to be. He just lacked focus. I've seen him participate in sports over the years and always seen a young man who was disheartened when he participated. With his own God-given abilities he always finished in the top tier of duscus throwers, but he had a hard time taking and deciphering instruction. Instruction that quit possibly could put him over the top and make him a champion. Eventually coaches would grow tired of his inability to grasp and then leave him to compete on his own.

This young teacher did something and I am not quit sure what it was but it changed this boy. I started noticing him parsing his technique. He began to work on every small aspect of his event. All through the year he gradually moved closer to the top of the league. He took pride to hone his skills. He participated as if he had been inspired.

At this particular conference I told the teacher I appreciated everything he had to say about my boys and that Mrs. Pirate and myself are very proud of them. I then asked him if I could be direct with him on another subject. He approved. I told him that I was so impressed with his skills as a teacher and really didn't care what the subject was. I told him how I had seen what he had done with the aforementioned boy and was so impresssed. I thought he was a winner and I was glad he was teaching at our school. He sat there dumbfounded. He thanked me and we left.

The next day this teacher stopped my boys in the hall and pulled them aside. He told them how he had been a little down on teaching and rethinking his career until last night. He told them that my words of inspiration to him have made him proud to be a teacher and that no one, not the administration, not his peers, no one has ever told him that before.

Then my boys came home panicked about what I might have said. I told them what I has said and they agreed. I told them i was going to start approaching the world with a kind word of inspiration and with as much strength that I can muster I will keep my negative side at home.

From now on I am going to make Wednesdays my inspiring day. I am going to tell everyone how impressed I am in how they do such and such. I am going to smile at strangers, I'm going to call make sure that I thank everyone with eye to eye contact. I am going to inspire.

Then just when they least suspect it I'm going to.......

Peace...

People we meet along the way

2006-03-20T20:32:00.000-08:00

First off I want to thank everyone that took the time to read the extremly long story in the previous post. This was a little story that has been rolling around my head for many years. It, like so many others are being compiled for a short story collection. You have probably read Traffic Light, Fifth Grade Hitler and Triangle Trees. The Hang up is from that era and is even more fun to read after you have read the other three. Long winded stories are tough to put on the blog because of the length of time and the effort that is required to read it. I just couldn't think of a way of telling the story in less then 4,500 words, its original version was over 6,000 words.

I have began my journey on writing the novel that will be my quest for the year. I contacted a gentleman, Ron Fowler who had authored four books and self-published them. I was a little interestd in how you self-published so I contacted him via email from the inside cover of his book, "Valsetz Star".

Blaze had given me the book for Christmas and I had shelved it and planned to read it later. The book is about a young elementary-aged girl prior to WWII who published a monthly newsletter from the small logging town, Valsetz. She became an international celebrity. Her subscription list included Eleanor Roosevelt most of the large newspapers around the nation carried excerpts from her monthly publication. Then in December 1941 her family moved from Valsetz and she ceased publication. Interesting thing is she then moved to Salem with her fmily and attended the same school as my children have. I never knew her or any of her family. My grandmother did but no one else I know ever met her. Ron Fowler was not from Valsetz. He had heard of the newsletter and the young girl and decided to write a book about her and the newsletter.

Well anyway I contacted Mr. Fowler and he was overjoyed to meet with me. Since the last book he has since retired and is enjoying the life as a grandparent. But he wanted me to have something. We got together and he gave me a box full of material he used to assist in writing his Valsetz Star book. The material was unbelievable. there were hours and hours of interviews, pictures dating back to the 1920 up until the mid 1980s. I even found a photo of my younger brother when he was 18. There were newspaper clippings and a copy of every Valsetz Star newsletter. He was even nice enough to give me abook he had penned about self-publishing and all the ups and downs you could experience publishing. We spent several hours discussing Valsetz, writing and the art of story telling.

I put this meeting up there with the chicken eating session I had with Hoss. These meetings are so valuable in a life.

Hang Up

2006-03-19T11:32:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up in Valsetz, Oregon during the 1960s and 1970s I had no idea at the time how lucky I was. Like most pre-teens and teenagers I remember groaning with my friends how boring it was in Valsetz. How there wasn’t anything to do and how unfortunate we all were for being trapped forty-miles from civilization. We thought of ourselves as living at the end of the world.

Valsetz did not have a movie theater; there was no mall to hangout in after school. There were no video arcades or nowhere that resembled a place where civilized people would hangout; especially teenagers. All we had was a two-lane bowling alley that was most often occupied by the balding, beer-bellied types with their “big hair” ladies in tow. We made efforts to hangout in the café, which we all referred to as the “Rec Hall”. The patience of those who worked at the Rec Hall ran thin after awhile and we were encouraged to go elsewhere.

We had the school yard to hangout at, where it was common to find a couple of basketball games underway on the blacktop or a tennis match at the one court facility. When it was raining and it often rained in Valsetz, the principal of the high school would unlock the gym on the weekends so those of us who lived to be in the NBA one day, could work on our hard court skills. Or turn the gym lights off and swap spit with a few girls you were fancying at the time. If the gym was closed and there was no basketball or tennis being played you could play a game of “touch-that-turned-to-all-out-tackle” football on the lawn in front of the high school. The fact was there was plenty to do but we were the usual kids who didn’t notice the real wealth we were blessed with at the time. As a parent today, I wish my kids had as boring of a place to grow up.

Valsetz was not the type of place people locked their front doors. It was a place that kids and their dogs roamed the dirt streets and wooden sidewalks without a leash or a curfew. It was the type of town where everyone knew everybody and everybody’s dog’s name and more often then not you knew everybody’s middle name as well. Valsetz was such a small, closely-knit town, I can remember what brands of cigarettes the other parents smoked when I was a kid and they were still alive.

Without all the modern conveniences kids have today to assist in their enjoyment, kids in Valsetz were left with their imaginations and bicycles. During the summer months we would ride our bicycles a short way out of town, where several friends and myself had stowed away inflated logging-truck inner-tubes for floating down the Siletz River. We would pack a lunch, take our poles and fishing gear and head for the inner-tubes as soon as we were up and out of the house. We would then hide our bikes where the tubes were hidden and float several miles down the river to the “Hang-up” hole. As we floated we would discuss the current Oakland A’s dynasty or how well our favorite teams would fair in the upcoming NFL football season. We would argue what was better for catching trout; live bait or lures; Metrics or Rooster-tails; eggs or okie-drifters. Essentially we discussed the important things in life. On occasion the subject of girls would come up but it would usually be drowned out by giggles and inappropriate topics of fantasy. Since none of us were experienced with the opposite sex in anything more then our crude fantasies and our sterile imaginations and a few spit swapping sessions we quickly ran out of pertinent things to say about girls and we would then move our discussions back to the importance of a good quarterback or if the designated-hitter rule would eventually be the demise of major league baseball.

The “Hang up” hole was named for the way the river would treat angler’s bait. The hole was located below where Gravel Creek dumped into the Siletz and filled the rapids with loose gravel which gave the rapids a washboard appearance. The river would continue to roll from Gravel Creek then around a large bend and then into the twenty plus foot hole the locals called the “Hang up”. The “Hang up” hole was paralleled on one side with a forty-foot bank where the dirt road was located and on the other side laid a gravel mounded beach. Between the road and the town’s favorite watering hole were at least ten boulders larger then a two-story house that were perfect for diving. In the middle of the swimming hole sat a haystack looking rock we all would immediately swim to after we initially hit the water. It was the best place to sit and observe the action on the bank and in the surrounding water. Just on the other side of the boulders the river took a sharp bend and left a large area where a hundred or more people could set up their grills, throw out there blankets and lawn chairs and begin cooling down for the evening.

We would swim and play on the banks and the large boulders until the mill in town would let out the dayshift and the banks of the “Hang up” would quickly fill up with tired and hard working adults armed with their cold beer and soda, small bar-be-que grills accompanied with their families. Since there was no one in Valsetz with an air conditioner this was the townsfolk’s only means for cooling down from the hot and dusty day.

The particular day that comes to mind for me took place in the summer of ’72 when I was only twelve years old. It was a warm and fairly uneventful day. But it was a day that has had a profound impact on the way I look at life from that day on. More importantly it affected the way I accept people’s differences and attempt to find the beauty in all situations.

Friendly, Bean, Clarence and I had planned a float trip the night before as we slept in my backyard fort. It had been unusually hot that summer forcing us to take advantage of our inner-tubes more then we had in previous summers. On this day we started out around nine o’clock in the morning with a day’s worth of peanut butter and honey sandwiches, apples and sacks of penny candy all tied tightly in plastic bread sacks.

On this morning our goal was to make the float quicker then most trips so we left our poles behind but assured ourselves we would keep our eyes open for snagged lures but nothing else. It was a rule back then when you floated the Siletz. Keep your eyes peeled for shinny metallic reflections in the water. These reflections more often then not were treasures of lost lures that we could refill our tackle boxes.
The float went well as far as we were concerned. We had spotted and retrieved several lures that day. If I remember right Clarence and Bean had had the best day of the summer that day due to their big finds. Clarence, which was a nickname given to him because he resembled the lion on the TV series, Daktari. To further the cat resemblance Clarence passionately spoke with pauses that sounded like a cat clearing a fur ball from his throat then he would inhale with a sloshing sound of air and saliva rushing back to replace the fur ball. When it came to everything Valsetz, the Minnesota Vikings, fishing and hunting Clarence was a debate master. Even if he didn’t have the facts he had the passion to back down most start up debaters, surely the novices were to be shelved. I suspect many debaters ceded to him in order to avoid a shower of saliva.

Bean on the other hand was the most confident person I had met in those days. Besides being the best athlete who was faster, stronger and taller then any of us he also had the looks. Most of the girls our age at the time melted when Bean was present. Later when we were in high school many single and married women made time for Bean to be their pleasure but that’s another story. It was rumored around town that Bean and his family were fair skinned Blacks. Since there were no black people in Valsetz at that time or any time in the future and that Bean’s family had moved to Valsetz from a southern state it was enough to convict. The suspicion was further solidified because of the physical features that Bean possessed. Large lips, broad nose, body structure which gave him athletic superiority along with what attracted some of the aforementioned ladies; we were all convinced of Bean’s ethnicity. We just rarely shared it with him for fear of a good ass-kicking.

The two Clarence and Bean had been arguing all day because that was what the two did; each solicitating support from Friendly and me. Friendly and I kept the humor rolling and they argued. Sometimes I think they took the opposing view on a topic just to rile the other. Whenever a question that required an opinion was put forth you could bet your pump BB-gun they would disagree with each other. This day they were arguing politics of all things. A topic so foreign to the four of us it’s hard to imagine where it came from. It was obvious they were only reciting the opinions of their fathers that day because none of us really knew the difference between George McGovern and Richard Nixon and I can assure you none of really cared, not at twelve years old we didn’t. Politics and news were interruptions to something better on TV as far as we were concern. The only thing we knew about Viet Nam was that Clarence and Beans older brothers were there as was my Uncle Timmy. We knew there were people by the name, Cong, who were the “bad guys” and our country was there to make them leave the “good guys” alone.

Friendly, who was aptly named for the ever present grin on his face and his approach to the world of never meeting a stranger or someone he didn’t like was on his game that day. Every time the debate between Bean and Clarence treaded close to over heating Friendly would get us all focusing on another “traveling salesman” joke or he would begin to mimic one of the many comical characters of our town.
After a few hours of floating, diving for lures, eating too much candy and soaking in the warm sun we approached the “Hang up”. As we floated around the bend between Gravel Creek and the Hang up we noticed a yellow bread truck with the company named crudely blacked out with black paint parked on the road above the "Hang up". Neither of us recognized the vehicle as belonging to anyone from Valsetz. So we pulled up shy of the "Hang up" and decided to proceed cautiously. We pulled our inner-tubes up on the gravel shore keeping our heads lower then the apex of the shore in order to get a view of who was using the "Hang up" as we concealed ourselves. Lying on the hot river rocks that have been carried from the mountains over the last thousands of years that surround the river valley, we gradually lifted our heads ever so slowly as not to draw attention to us, and we caught the sight of a young man standing on the haystack rock in the middle of the "Hang up". With his back to us and his hair hanging down to his naked butt, at first we thought it was a woman. He was standing on the rock completely naked laughingly talking to someone on the other side of the river we could not see. He then lifted his arms out to his side as if to be crucified and with slow and precise movements jumped into the air then seemingly he stopped in mid-air, made his final downward adjustment and enters the water leaving little of a ripple. From the area of the bank we couldn’t see, we could hear a small commotion of cheers and clapping. And we could smell smoke, a sweet smelling smoke none of us could identify. The naked man resurfaced and flipped his hair out of his face. He let out a laugh and mentioned how good and cold the water felt and encouraged who ever he was talking to, to join him. At that time two naked women came running from the blind area and dove into the water and swam out to nude stranger.

Clarence immediately went into survival mode and gathered us into a huddle. “It’s a bunch of hippies”. He sprayed out with a look of confusion on his face. “They’re naked. They are skinny-dipping in our hole.” He continued with his mixture of tirade and curiosity. “We’ve gotta tell ‘em they can’t be here”.

Bean at the time was crawling back up the gravel mound to either come up with a plan or to get a better look at the sirens who had laid claim to our swimming hole. Friendly and I made efforts to convince Clarence that we needed to proceed with caution and with any luck we could get a closer look. Clarence suggested we could bomb them with rocks and hopefully drive them to their converted bread truck on the road above. Wisely we squelched that idea and suggested that Friendly and I would continue to float into the "Hang up" and see if they were friendlies. Bean supported our approach at the descent of Clarence. Being as democratic as we could, we made the decision to leave Clarence with his rocks as the three of us went in as a peace party. Clarence threw the rock attack aside and re-entered the water with us but ever so reluctantly. “What if they rape us or get us hooked on drugs?” was all Clarence’s could spray, as we all shoved off from the shore and descended into the Hang up. Bean made the comment, “We couldn’t be so lucky”.

We floated into the middle of the "Hang up" before we made eye contact with the three naked intruders. The three were now sitting on the opposite shore where a small sand pile had accumulated over the years; they were basking in the sun and smoking what smelled like sweet rope. The two girls noticed us first and let out a welcoming “Hello” with a slight wave of their hands. “Look Evan, travelers”, the two girls said to the man as they pointed us out. Evan, stood up and welcomed us over with a greeting of,”Hey, strangers” and his broad smile.

We paddled our inner-tubes up to the sand bank with hesitation and a slight feeling of embarrassment. Up until this moment I had never seen a naked woman in my whole life. Now in front of me were two of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen and they were completely exposed. I could hear Bean mumble a few thanks to God as we neared the skinny-dipping goddesses and their man Evan. Friendly’s smile only broadened and his stare never phased. Clarence was not at ease one bit.

“Who are you guys? Are you mountain Pirates?” Evan asked us.

“No, we live in town,” Clarence sloshed out. “This is the town’s swimming hole”. He informed them as we all tried to give the impression he did not speak for our contingent.

“Cool” was Evan’s response in a quiet and calming manner. “You Pirates like a bite?” He asked as he pointed toward a wicker picnic basket. “We have some fruit and bread”.

“We already have a lunch”, Clarence responded as he pointed to the small inner-tube we use to pull our supplies in.

Bean who was raised to always be polite and never turn don a free meal, “What kind of fruit do you have?”

Evan invited us to stay and share in their lunch. The two girls introduced themselves as Rain and Rachel. Rain was the shorter of the two. She had long thick curly blonde hair that ran down the back of her to her slightly plump naked bottom. Her breast were larger and whiter then Rachel’s and looked as if she had not exposed them to sun too often. Her demeanor was relaxed even though she stood before us without any effort to conceal herself. Rain was far more talkative then Rachel but as sweet.

Rachel was an angel. It was obvious to me that God had sent a creature of perfection to the Hang up. She was slightly taller then Rain and more slender. Her auburn hair was straight and parted in the middle. It poured down over her shoulders over one breast and the remaining mane cascaded down her smooth back to her petite bottom. Rachel’s smile infectiously brought your eyes back to her delicate face where her green eyes kept you hypnotized with her beauty. I had feelings of confusion within me as I calmly took in what was happening. I felt as if we were breaking some type of law or rule. But I also felt this was where God wanted me to be at that very moment. On one hand I felt that we were intruding, on the other I knew we were well received guest.

After we ate papayas, mangoes and a few other fruits that were completely foreign to the four of us Evan and Rain invited us for a swim. Bean and I instantly dropped our already soaked cut-offs and headed for the water. Friendly and Clarence refused the invite. I was nearly to the haystack rock when it sunk in that I had no business exposing myself to these girls and had no manly means to equate myself with men like Evan. What the hell does it matter I was skinny dipping with a goddess? But they could see me and I had no place to hide.

We climbed the rocks, showed off our patented dives to our new friends that we had perfected over the years of swimming at the Hang up. Evan laughed, swam and dove as well. Rain and Rachel spent most of their time in the water swimming gracefully as to show they had no primal need to prove anything.

We all then sat on the bank drying off in the sun. Evan and Rain asked questions about us and the town and told us they were from California and were traveling to Alaska in their van. And Rachel was hitching a ride to Seattle with them to go and see her grandparents. They told us they had stayed in a County Park along the Siletz the night before and decided to follow the gravel road along the river to see where it took them. They were convinced they had found heaven on Earth and were amazed anyone actually lived out in the bushes like this least not a whole town of folks.

Friendly and Clarence never brought themselves to drop their britches for a swim, they did become more relaxed and contributed more to the conversation. Friendly kept his smile broad and his eyes peeled on Rachel most of the time. Clarence kept his conversation in the mode of an interrogation. It was as if he was taking mental notes so he could report the hippies to the authorities. On the outside he played it as he was just a laid back kind of dude, but knowing him, we all knew he was preparing plausible deniability for himself and already had Bean and myself convicted.

As the breeze picked up and brought more warmth to our nude bodies we mentioned to the free spirited trio that anytime cars and families would be arriving and it might be a good idea to not smoke the stuff they had been smoking when everyone gets here. A little while later the overheated residents of Valsetz began to arrive. And our three new friends wrapped themselves in blankets they had in their basket and gathered their stuff and left in their bread van.

I remember that day many times a year. Often when it is warm or I am swimming in a river. I remember that it was the first time I had ever seen an angel and perfection. I also remember it was the first time I had ever met someone who was so comfortable being themselves. Though completely exposed, never did the trio give the impression that they were vulnerable. Rachel stood naked in front of us and maintained her smile that conveyed beauty and acceptance of the world around her. Rain kept herself as the center of attention and never once ceded to her nakedness. Evan may not have known he was baring himself to anyone. I fell in love with the thought of living so freely, Bean focused the rest of his teen years swimming naked and Clarence and Friendly kept their shorts on.

Is this a man's world or what?

2006-03-17T09:13:00.000-08:00

The upcoming April Mrs. Pirate and I have been together for 21 years. April 19, 1985 I was out carousing with the buds, drinking, and smoking and down right being crude men (college kids) and I happened to notice a girl I knew from one of my classes. This girl, unbeknownst to her, had participated in several of my “Day Dreams” during one or two of our professor's long drawnout lines of bull. She was sitting at a table with only herself and another coed, named Charley. After a few more cold beers I mustered up the liquid courage and approached their table. I invited them over to our table. The table I invited them to join was now supporting four, should we say well pickled and flat out inebriated soon to graduate "leaders of the future" who were beyond their limit. To my surprise the two lovely girls accepted the invite.

Escorting the two girls to our table it became obvious the girl who had caught my eye and had unknowingly participated in many of my lustful thoughts was not interested in me. Not one iota. She had noticed my well groomed and dashing friend, Coon-dog who st higher then the rest of us because of his wallet. Coon-dog was an amateur at beer swilling and was well beyond repair. In fact, he was at the time sitting at the table eating my Marlboro lights; one-by-one. For some reason this young beautiful thing was less interested in a real Pirate as much as she was interested in a future tobacco industry official. But I did happen to notice the much cuter and shorter (and incidentally the one with the nicer britches) of the two ladies was laughing at all my jokes. She set next to me and actually seemed to be interested in me. There was something in her eye that said to forget the goddigger and concentrate on this honey. Good thing i listened to that voice i always thought was another personlity.

More brews were consumed and fewer cigarettes were eaten when I finally mumbled something to the fine little lass about dancing. If you know me if I was willing to dance I was drunk and had an inkling I may be heading home with the sweetie. There are few things in this world to get a Pirate as myself to dance. One comes in a bottle the other is much nicer then that.

Suffice it to say the dancing went well and by the night I had her signing the contract and the rest is history. In our relationship we put far less importance on our wedding anniversary as we do the date, April 19th. Unfortuantely so hads Janet Reno at waco and Tim McVeigh but that is a whole different story.

As we have worked through these last 21 years we have been able to overcome a lot. We have certainly had our peaks and valleys. We have had three kids of own and she was without hesitation, able to accept my daughter from my first marriage as one of her own as well. But the most difficult thing for the two of us over the years is the difficulty there is in shaking who you are. I mean who you have become from your childhood.

You see Mrs. Pirate, Charley, is from a female influenced family and I am from a family that was male dominate. Believe me if you doubt it right now, there is a difference. I don’t mean to say there aren’t families of female dominance that don’t watch football on Thanksgiving because there are. I don’t mean to say that a male dominated family wouldn’t join the town choir group; because we know there are many that do. I mean there is a difference flat out and simple from families that are male dominate to families that are female dominate.

The following list of International Rules of Manhood that my younger brother sent me today is an example of this difference. Please read them and let me know if you think I’m nuts about this or know of what I mumble. As read this I can assure you few if any sisters would ever send this to each other with the intent to arouse a smile.

International Rules of Manhood

1: Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

2: It is ok for a man to cry ONLY under the following circumstances:
a. When a heroic dog dies to save its master.
b. The moment Angelina Jolie starts unbuttoning her blouse.
c. After wrecking your boss' car.
d. One hour, 12 minutes, 37 seconds into "The Crying Game".
e. When she is using her teeth.

3: Any Man who brings a camera to a bachelor party may be legally
killed and eaten by his buddies.

4: Unless he murdered someone in your family, you must bail a friend
out of jail within 12 hours.

5: If you've known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off
limits forever unless you actually marry her.

6: Moaning about the brand of free beer in a buddy's fridge forbidden.
However complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.

7: No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another
man. In fact, even remembering your buddy's birthday is strictly optional.

8: On a road trip, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the
weakest.

9: When stumbling upon other guys watching a sporting event, you may
ask the score of the game in progress, but you may never ask who's playing.

10: You may flatulate in front of a woman only after you have brought
her to climax. If you trap her head under the covers for the purpose of
flatulent entertainment, she's officially your girlfriend.

11: It is permissible to drink a fruity alcohol drink only when you're
sunning on a tropical beach... and it's delivered by a topless model and
only when it's free.

12: Only in situations of moral and/or physical peril are you allowed
to kick another guy in the nuts.

13: Unless you're in prison, never fight naked.

14: Friends don't let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.

15: If a man's fly is down, that's his problem, you didn't see
anything.

16: Women who claim they "love to watch sports" must be treated as
spies until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to drink
as much as the other sports watchers.

17: A man in the company of a hot, suggestively dressed woman must
remain sober enough to fight.

18: Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of
pizza, but not both, that's just greedy.

19: If you compliment a guy on his six-pack, you'd better be talking
about his choice of beer.

20: Never join your girlfriend or wife in discussing a friend of yours,
except if she's withholding sex pending your response.

21: Phrases that may NOT be uttered to another man while he is lifting
weights:
a. Yeah, Baby, Push it!
b. C'mon, give me one more! Harder!
c. Another set and we can hit the showers!

22: Never talk to a man in a bathroom unless you are on equal footing:
i.e. Both urinating, both waiting in line, etc. For all other situations,
an almost imperceptible nod is all the conversation you need.

23: Never allow a telephone conversation with a woman to go on longer
than you are able to have sex with her. Keep a stopwatch by the phone. Hang
up if necessary.

24: The morning after you and a girl who was formerly "just a friend"
have carnal drunken monkey sex, the fact that you're feeling weird and
guilty is no reason for you not to nail her again before the discussion
about what a big mistake it was occurs.

25: It is acceptable for you to drive her car. It is not acceptable for
her to drive yours.

26: Thou shall not buy a car in the colors of brown, pink, lime green,
orange or sky blue.

27: The girl who replies to the question "What do you want for
Christmas?" with "If you loved me, you'd know what I want!" gets an Xbox.
End of story.

28: There is no reason for guys to watch Ice Skating or Men's
Gymnastics. Ever.

We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really
know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the
definition of each is listed below.
GUTS - is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being
assaulted by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask, "Are you
still cleaning or are you flying somewhere?"
BALLS - is coming home late after a night out with the guys smelling of
perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the ass
and having the balls to say, "You're next!"

Hey, don't blame me. I didn't make the rules.

P.S. A real man will do whatever in the hell he likes. No rules are truely necessary.

Peace...

The Journey Begins

2006-03-15T12:31:00.000-08:00

For sometime I have been preparing for a journey. A journey that will not take me far from my home. I may never leave the front door of my abode for this journey but I will no doubt travel. I will travel back into my past. A past prior to my life on this big ball.

The preparation for this journey began many years before my actual birth. The journey began in Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Iowa and Ireland. From these places of origin they all converged on a small logging community in the Coast Range Mountains in Oregon. This journey will be my attempt to put the evolution of what I know and what I am on paper; a novel. This novel will essentially be a living letter to my children of who they are and how they came to be. The novel will be the telling of two families. Two families so different, yet destine to unite. Two families that would have a difficult time facing each other in one room, two families that would disagree on everything under the moon. Yet, they converge.

I have been working on this for a long time and have shared many aspects of it with the blog readers in many fashions. I have told of the type of people who made up the logging community that I grew up in. I have posted short stories of my relativs, my friends and the characters I have had the opportunity to know. Now I am attempting to put these characters in a novel.

I ask you to bear with me and be there when I least and most need it. I am also asking if anyone would be willing to act as an objective reviewer. I need more then one objective reviewer. I am not looking for a supporter but rather someone who has either traveled this journey themselves and can mentor me through the ups and downs. I am looking for objective assistance who can openly criticize the work but is subjective enough to realize I have no desire to conform to any strict rules of writing.

I currently have three people that already have helped me and one person who has been a friend for 40 years who recently said she would love to help. I have no formal plan or road map to follow and have no idea how this will work but I know it has to be done and I am not smart enough to do it on my own.

I have armed myself with several reference books and books on writing styles. I am re-reading two novels that will help me develop the voice, the pace and the flavor of each stage of the story. I have been reading a non-fiction book that clinically describes the places and the people I intend to draw my compositions from. But I am too new at this and need to have any guidance I can get.

So if you are willing to help in any way please leave a comment or email me.

In the News

2006-03-14T09:53:00.000-08:00

Well its that time again where I skim through the wacky world of news and share what I have found. This allows you to spend your time on more important things instead of delving into the world of news.

From Atascadero, Calfornia John Skinner a retired salesman has reported to the police that he was robbed in his home by a stripper. On his way to Bible study one night he was approached by a Strip-O-Gram girl who informed him that he had won a free Strip-O-Gram. Instead of continuing on his path towards Bible study he decided to take advantage of his winnings. Once in the house the stripper was joined by two others, a man and a woman, who held Mr. Skinner at gun point as they rifled through Mr. Skinner's home for valuables. When the trio was arrested they claimed they were collecting on past sexual favors Mr. Skinner had failed to pay for.

Mr. Skinner claims the robbers were being a little greedy because he did owe them money for sex but not as much as they claimed. According to Mr. Skinner the trio was over charging because on the last sleep-over he had fallen asleep before finishing.

A note to Mr. Skinner, focus on the relationships you can develop at the Bible studies. I think the Bible ladies may be a little less rough and may keep your interest enough so you can stay awake.

Did you know that today is Potato Chip Day?

A man in Pittsburgh claims his use of the middle finger is protected free speech. I thought Lynard Skynard already wrote that song, "Free Bird".

Milosevic's son claims his father was murdered with poison while in his cell awaiting the completion of his trial for atrosities of murdering thousands of his fellow countrymen. That really pulls on your heart strings doesn't it? They most likely were making room for Saddam.

Did you know that the month of March is deemed National Noodle Month?

Speaking of noodles Senator Feingold was a little disappointed after railing against President Bush's apathetic attitude regarding NSA's eavesdropping on international telephone calls between potential terrorists. Feingold called for hearings and a possible censorship of President Bush. His fellow Democrats apethitically supported him by saying they weren't interested in pursuing such antics. I say quit bitchin at W and help us find these dolts who are bent on killing all of us, you included Feingold.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing, Dick."

Speaking of President Bush. The Las Vegas minor-league hockey team, the Wranglers, will be having a Dick Cheney night as a promotional stunt. Fans will be given hunting vests as they enter the arena to watch the game. The word is Senator Ted Kennedy will be driving the visiting team's bus. I'm sensing a forfeit.

Its nice being connected. Hic...

After all the whining about UAE's Dubai purchasing the rights to administor the management of some American port terminals we find out they have already been operating a terminal in Miami. Throughout this debate over the terminals, I wondered why no one dwelled on Communist China's opeartions of the terminals at Long Beach, California.

From Oslo Norway a woman claims her kitchen faucet was drawing beer when she turned it on. Now all you naysayers and atheists try telling me there is no God.

Does anyone understand or speak Chinese? I am looking for an answer for what the word "Dong" stands for. Down the street from my home there is a Chinese market. Its name is "A Dong Market" What the heck is a dong? Do I need to purchase a new dong?

From Hollywood, Jennifer Anniston says she is tired of being part of the "sick Bermuda Triangle" that her ex-husband, Brad Pitt and the lovely and gracious Angeline Jolie have drug her into. Okay, Jennifer you can join mine. We're not as sick.

Isaac Hayes of Shaft fame has quit the cast of voices for South Park. He claims they went too far when they started making fun of religion. More specifically he was upset how the writers were poking fun at Tom Cruise. I guess it fine to poke fun at everyone else but you better not target Tom Cruise.

The new song "Where My Hose At?" is the front runner for next year's original song Oscar.

Hey, don't get mad at me. That's just the way I found it.

Peace...

Gotta love the mind of kids

2006-03-13T09:40:00.000-08:00

Last Friday I took my youngest boy, Slick, to the doctor's office to have a painful wart removed from the bottom of his foot. It has been bothering him since he is a long distance runner on the track team. As we pulled into the parking lot I heard him read the sign to himself. "West Salem Family Medical Practice". He followed the reading with a hmmm and then a lot of silence. As I pulled the car into a parking spot, Slick looked at me and had this very puzzled and rather serious look on his face. "Dad, I thought they were real doctors. Their sign says they are only practicing." Gotta love those future leaders.

This is a picture of Slick and my mother. If she sees this picture she will be pissed.

On the sixth day

2006-03-12T16:08:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of my youngest brother and our dad. Some advice when these two are around, never leave your wallet or sweetie unattended.

I should be really careful about referring to Sunday as the sixth day. If you remember my mother's family is Seventh Day Adventist and they get a little touchy about over looking the Sabbath (Saturday). My own personal view is is that God doesn't use calendars and watches. Those are all human made devises to measure themselves not God's. So any way I don't want to get caught up on a debate about which Christian group is more in tune with the maker. I had a little debate like that this week with a blogger who is anti-God it made me worry debating him. I kept thinking how close do i want to get to this guy (it could have been a woman since they operate without any type of disclosure. I kept thinking if God strikes this guy down now will I be hit; collateral damage.

Well anyway what a gret day. I slept in until 9 am. Mrs. pirate was in the living room watching an old movie. So I headed downstairs to my office with a cup of French roast in hand and watched my favorite Sunday morning program as I did the crossword puzzle. I forget the name of the program but it has Mike Wallace and the rest of the Fox all-stars. Boy did Wallace grill that deadbeat lying senator from New England Chris Dobbs. I wish he had had Senators Clinton, Feingold, Schummer and Kennedy there for the rest of the well deserved butt kicking.

Then I found one of my favorite oldie movies on the History channel; Cool Hand Luke. Man do I love that flick. The egg eating contest and the car washing scenes are great. As is the performance of George Kennedy and Strother Martin.

I worked a little on the book I am writing and then was convinced by Mrs. Pirate to go and do the weekly groceries. So WalMart super store and Costco was how I spent the sixth day resting and I think so did half of the rest of Salem.

On the way to the markets this morning we came across a yard sale. Well there went $9 total for two solid oak nightstands and three 7-foot shelves for the garage. I love gargae shopping looking for treasures to repair and resale. I love finding a summers worth of reading for less then $5. Ilove the warmer weather that comes with yard sales. (do you think there is a connection between the two?)

When I got home I started a large crock pot of beef stew. And plan to read the rest of the day.

Well that's how I spent my day of rest.

Peace...

Brothers and Sister

2006-03-10T12:18:00.000-08:00

Before I became a fat old balding Pirate I lived with these people. My brother Kevin is the goofy looking fellow on the far left. He is 19 months younger then me and a whole lotta inches taller. He lives with his daughters on the Oregon coast. His son is currently in Iraq.

The female in the bunch is our sister Kimber. It appears to me she is turning into our mother. She is a bad-ass redheaded lady who will take absolutely no crap from anyone. When she was in high school she played on the boys basketball team because the school was not able to field a girls team those years. I took joy in watching her put the hurts on some punk when he thought he had picked the easiest assignment. That girl could shoot and she did.

My baby brother, JK, the cop. He thinks he is God's gift to the world. He may be one of my best friends but I have no intention of telling him that. It would go to his head. He's single and has a 12 year old boy. He is the one with the Harley. The rest of us are over 40 and smart enough not to make ourselves so vulnerable.

Then there is the Pirate. I had just wrestled the hat back from my Grandma. Man that old gal sure can put up a good fight. Luckily for me she has lost a step or two and was unable to fend herself from my roundhouse kicks.

They may be ugly but they are my kin.

Peace...

I've been tagged by Lucifee

2006-03-09T08:23:00.000-08:00

Lucifee of Las Vegas fame has found it in her heart to tag me. Lucifee is a pretty young lady who obviously didn't get the memo. The memo that warns people about getting too close to the Pirate. Lucifee, just because I look like a nice jovial fella doesn't mean that I am. Ask a few that have stepped in myh wake.

Lucifee asked me to five the top four answers to the following questions.

Four things I need each mornng:
1. time
2. space
3. air
4. diet coke and coffee

Four things that turn me off:
1. smugness
2. denials
3. pessimism
4. stupid people

Four things I believe in:
1. God
2. myself
3. ghosts
4. freedom

Four things I am afraid of:
1. the dark
2. horror movies
3. heights
4. flying

Four things I do every day:
1. use the bathroom
2. take a shower
3. live
4. eat

Four things I want to do before I die:
1. live longer
2. see my great-great grandchildren
3. be a meanace to those who have made my days miserable at one time or another
4. publish a novel

Four people I would like to see:
1. Jimmy Buffett
2. Stephen King
3. John Grishom
4. James Patterson

Four numbers that rule my life:
1. #1
2. #2
3. #26
4. #69

Four colors i like:
1. blue
2. black
3. green
4. red

Four characteristics of my heritage
1. Irish
2. Scot
3. Welsh
4. English

Four songs I love:
1. The First Time I Saw Him Run
2. Freebird
3. When Love Came to Town
4. Come Monday

Four Hobbies:
1. reading
2. writing
3. lusting
4. TV watching

Four places I would like to visit:
1. Greece
2. Belize
3. Ireland
4. Scotland

Four ways I am not the stereotypical male:
1. I like chick flicks
2. my college apartment was spotless clean
3. I pick house work over work in the yard or home repairs.
4. I love to cook.

You asked Lucifee. So don't blame me because that's just the way I am.

Peace

Grandma Lucille

2006-03-07T08:30:00.000-08:00

It all started when this small town girl, Lucille Mack from Falls City, took up with the youngest of the rowdy Wheeler boys. Her folks owned the local bar and grill and the smoke shop which had the only local pool tables. She was the baby of her family of brothers by fourteen years, allowing her to enjoy the successes of her elder parents after her older brothers had grown and left to work in the woods.

Her eye was caught by Elmer Wheeler a year her junior during their high school years. He came from a family of all boys who for generations had logged and worked in the sawmills in the Willamette Valley in Oregon. His lot was many times rambunctious then her family but she was smitten with him. His family was cut from material that was hard working and even harder playing. Her family owned the local tavern his kept it in business.

When high school was over she enrolled in a local tech school where she learned the the skills to work in an office and being a bookkeeper. Being from rural Oregon where timber was the way of life, office skills were only required by a few.

The two eventually married and moved up the mountain to a local logging camp, Valsetz. The trek home in the valley was many more miles then the twenty that showed on the map. The roads into the mountains in those days were rarely traveled during the rainy months which equated to eight months a year in the coast range. The alternative means of traveling out to the valley was by rail. The local train was best equipped for running logs and lumber to the valley markets and not necessarily passengers. The accommadations for train travel was primative at best.

After ten years of marriage the couple had their first child, a boy, my father. He was named Franklin after her Irish father. Then seven years later they had twins, a boy and a girl. Raising small children in a remote logging camp wasn't the easiest task and having a hard working and harder playing husband didn't make it any easier. Two years after the twins prematurily came into the world Elmer Wheeler was killed in an industrial accident, leaving Lucille a widower with three little children to raise.

She moved back to the valley to her parents farm where she was helped by her mother in raising the children. Lucille was able to find work fairly quick as a mill cafe cook on the evening shift in a neighboring town, Dallas. After a couple years working as a cook at the sawmill a local bachelor, a tall unmarried Indian man from the local Siletz tribe started wooing her. He was known for his roustabout manner and his good looks. He took to courting her and then he eventually convinced her and her parents he was worthy of her hand and the responsibility of raising the three children. They always claimed they were married in local Indian ceremony with drums pounding and braves dancing they went to the top of a cliff and annouced to the indian gods they were one. I have no idea if that was true but it played well for an imaginative boy like myself.

They bought a home in Falls City where her new husband, Clair was hired as the local police chief. She took a job at the high school she had attended as a student as the school secretary. They were married well over twenty years before Clair contracted lung cancer and died in 1977. Lucille continued as the school secretary until her retirement in 1979.

Since her retirement she has traveled a bit. Her most memoriable trip was to Las Vegas with several of her widowed sisters-in-law to see their heart-throb Lawerence Welk. after being retired nearly ten years she went back to work as a live-in aid for several elderly women and eventually as an aid for one of her sister-in-law. In her ealry 80s she took several computer classes in order to figure out how to work with these new gadgets. As she neared her 90s her sight and hearing left her sparingly but her mind to this day is sharp. She can pull memory nuggets out and share with the rest as if all was played out only yesterday. She can discuss the upcoming baseball season better then any avid diamond fan, she can discuss the ups and downs of the last thiry years of the Blazers better then any team historian and dammit don't ever get her started on politics.

As her rural Irish style upbringing would dictate, she is as Democrat as FDR. I don't care is a yellow dog was the Democrat nominee she would vote for him over any damn republican. Another known secret is you never want to sit near her when you are nursing a cold beer. Because when you sit it down and turn to your head its as good as gone. Grandma loved a cold beer with a strong head on it. She gave up her Salem menthols severl years ago when the tax on them got too high for her to buy with her pension money. She blames it on those Republicans in Washington DC.

This last weekend Lucille Lillian Goodell celebrated her 92nd birthday with two of her children and most of her many grandchildren and great-grandchildren and her great-great grandchildren. She celebrated with dignity and grace. She celebrated with the love she has always provided all of us.

This last picture is of my two brothers, my sister, my father and my Pirate grandma who has stolen my hat to look cool and myself.

About last Night

2006-03-06T08:20:00.000-08:00

I originally intended to post about my grandmother's 92nd birthday yesterday and how it was a great family get together. One that brought my mom and dad into the same family gathering for the first time in many years. One I could not personally name or match most of my little nieces and nephews with their names and mothers. One I realize that my younger brothers are getting older then me and one where I noticed that my little sister has turned into my mom. I was going to discuss how beautifully angelic my grandmother looks at 92 years old and how several years ago I thought she wouldn't see the next Christmas but since giving up smokes she may keep trucking for several more years. But I can't find the camera-to-laptop cord so I can download the pictures, so the post of the Pirate family gathering will have to wait until tomorrow.

So let's discuss the Oscars. As some of you may know I'm a Hollywood junkie. I love motion pictures, I love story telling and like a weak-kneed autograph seeker, I often can not get enough of those who bring the story-telling to us. I have little patience for the marital status of the celebs and really could careless of their recreational drug use and their galavanting about but I love the award cerimonies. I have watched the Oscars more religiously then the Super Bowl. Though football could be described as my personal religion but I haven't always been interested in the sermon. You take a year where the Rams are eliminated in the late rounds of the playoffs there will not be much desire from me to see who wins beyond there. If the Rams miss the playoffs or are knocked out early I usually follow the round-robin to it's end.

Last nights Oscars, hmmm. Where do I start. First in the spirit of full disclosure, I have never "got" Jon Stewart. I love and appreciate all forms of humor and have found myself laughing my head off to people like Dennis Miller, Dave Letterman and Jay Leno, but I don't think I have ever cracked a smile with Stewart. Heck I have cracked up over comedians like Bill Maher and George Carlin even though I personally could never agree with much of their view of the world. I just have never thought Jon Stewart was talented or relevent. He has poor delivery, he isn't all that articulate, he has no hook or schtick. Personally he comes across to me as a mean unhappy person who isn't all that witty. He just is not funny to me.

So with that said, I thought the program was flat. Flat as a four-day-old opened diet coke sitting on a fence post in the sun. FLAT!!! And unfortunately that falls on the shoulders of the emcee. If it weren't for the collages on the film noir era, the epic motion picture, the salute to Robert Altman and the memorium of recent loses I think the rest of the show could have been better served by just mailing the winner the trophy and photographing the winner as they accepted their trophy at their mansion's front door.

As for the winners. I am satisfied there. The only movie I even saw this year was, "Walk the Line". So seeing the beautiful Reese Witherspoon win for her dipiction of June Carter Cash was cool with me. I haven't seen Crash but according to what I have read I am sure I will like the movie. I know I like Terrance Howard and Matt Dillion. As for George Clooney he has entertained me many times and has proven to be a force in the motion picture business and i look forward to see the two movies he recieved nominations for. Who doesn't think Rachel Weisz may be one of the most beautiful persons in the world?

The highlights besides the collages were slim. I loved seeing Larry McMurtry in his denims on stage encouraging books. Seeing Phillip Seymour Hoffman winning for his role as Truman Capote was great. Whatever you may think about Capote himself he was a great novelist and an interesting character. I also liked the out takes from the old westerns making the implication that more was going on on the range then rasslin' cattle. Especially since most of the oaters they spoofed were my favorites.

I do not understand the desire to elevate pimpness or pimpology to the level of acknowledgment in any social circles. The three songs they had nominated were limp at best and really not note worthy (pun inteneded). Call me an old fuddy-dutty if you'd like but what up with "Its Hard out here for a pimp"? You mean to tell me not one of the songs sang in the Johnny Cash bio wasn't worthy of a nomination. The three that were nominated just do not begin to measure up to "A Ring of Fire".

My favorite moment of the night was the award for the number one motion picture of the year and its presenter, Jack Nicholson. Jack must be the coolest Hollywood celeb to ever walk on an Oscar stage. All night they kept showing him sitting in the front row and I kept asking myself why is he there. He must not have much to do these days since the Lakers suck so much. Then they had him present the last award of the night. He strolled out on the stage with his ever so cool slide. Looking like he just came from taking a draw on a fatty. It took a few mintues of stumbling over a name or two his brain and coolness kicked in. After he made his adjustment caugh to clear the lingering smoke from his throat he was in good form.

Well that's the way I found it.

Peace...

I'm hurt how can I ever go on?

2006-03-03T09:48:00.000-08:00

You know I was happily telling everyone about my love for Condi Rice (and yes she use to let me call her that until yesterday). I've been going around telling everyone how smart I think she is and how desirable she has become since she began her daily workout program. Then yesterday she went in front of congress and totally destroyed my reputation. She impunned me. Or should i say "belittled" me?

When Ted Kennedy and then Barbara Boxer asked her why she no longer wanted to date the Pirate or to be seen in public with him, she told them:

Because he is only this big!

I felt betrayed. All this time I told her I was only going to put just a quarter of myself into the relationship until she got elected. She said she had no problem with that. But my guess someone at NSA heard a few of my two hour long telephone conversations with Rev. Dr. Abagambi and told her what I was saying about not wearing no damn gown at the sweetheart's ball. You gotta worry about these jealous little busybodies that work in DC. They will bring you down just when you least expect it.

So I called her up and gave her my side of the story. In her often considered cute but not if you're on the receiving end butt chewing manner, she also told me she didn't have time to discuss all this drama bull and had better things to do, like help pick another supreme court justice since Ruthy has taken to nodding off during hearings.

Meet the New Boss

2006-03-02T15:22:00.000-08:00

Meet the new boss, she's exactly like the old boss...

My sweaty sweety.

She demands safe sex when at sea.

Not only is she smart and cute as a button, she has her own workout video and she's an astronaut. Man am I ready to become a kept man for her. Yes, Condi I'll take the dog for a walk at any hour you want me to.

Hodgepodge

2006-03-01T09:00:00.000-08:00

Don't you just love the blogosphere? Yesterday while cruising the blogosphere I happened upon a blogger with the name Brinton. He had some reviews of movies he had recently seen and had posted about his battle to exclude cheese and chocolate from his life. I found him to be funny and a very good writer, so I began my usual harrassing. Today he had a post about a rock band named AshWednesday. Since it is Ash wednesday and we have nothing better to do I encourage you to check out their website, www.ashwednesdaymusic.com . Brinton tells me they are a local band from his area in the south. So I gave them a listen. They are pretty good, there is some Matchbox 20 influence among others. On their website they have five songs. I'll recommend two, Sundress and Blue, but the others are good as well.

Has anyone had the opportunity to see the next President, Condi Rice's workout video? I found it on the web today and I am hearing Olivia Newton John in my mind singing, "Let's Get Physical". Condi all sweaty with a headband and her spandex with all that grinding to take off the extra pounds, yum. Hillary if you plan on beating my babe Condi to the podium at the White House you best get your cankles down to the gym.

Did you know its National Pig Day? That's bound to piss off a few Muslims.

Apparently its National Peanut Butter Lover's day too. I have this awful image of peanut butter lover's smearing peanut butter and jelly all over themselves and making human sandwhiches. Man I've got to get out more. Personally I am a peanut butter and honey man myself. Or peanut butter and pickles or mayonaisse or bananas.

I recently read that KFC is fighting back against those of us that hit the remote when a commercial comes on. They have hidden their secret recipe in their new commercials and you need to watch the commercial in order to get the recipe. If you play the commercial backwords you hear Howard Stern praising satan and reciting the recipe. Man if you already have the recipe and I can buy the finished product why in the heck would I want it? Don't you think I'm busy enough? Now if you were to hide more interesting things in your ads, like nude shots of Angelina Jolie or a winning lottery number you may tweak my interest.

How many of you have figured out that Bode Miller is W's illegitimate son? He definately has the old, "Hey, I don't give a flying rat's butt what you think, I'm still going to do what I want" attitude. I know it pisses off the press and those who live and breath through their athletic heros, but it sure is refreshing to see someone tell the world he's only here for the beer party and the butt.

Speaking of W. I see he is visiting what we have bought in the Middle East. In his fly over he noted it sure looks a lot better then New Orleans. I'm seeing a straight across swap coming. I also read that there are thousands of people in New Delhi, India preparing to greet Bush with a protest. They have armed themselves with signs that read, "Kill Bush, Eat Beef". I think they got it backwards. What the hell are these guys all pissed off about? They don't like all those phone bank jobs they got now? I heard one spokesman complaining about the phone bank jobs. He says the jobs only lead to more stereotyping of their culture and the belittling by some asshole who calls himself Pirate.

Michelle Williams of Hollywood who was recently nominated for her role in Brokeback Mountain is getting the scorn from her former Chrisitan school's Headmaster. The Headmaster, Jim Hopson of Chrisitan Youth Theater is upset with the association of his school and Michelle. He claims that Michelle's recent success in no way represents what they are trying to do at their school. He thinks what she does in her movies and the movies she has been involve with do not reflect Christ. This dude couldn't be any more wrong if he tried. God is in all things and he is everywhere. God loves homosexual cowboys as much as he does Pat Robertson or any old tattered Pirate. I don't think he plays favorites. Hey, Jim. Why do they call you the "Headmaster"?

Sticking with the Oscar theme for a second more. I see where a transgender woman or is that shim? Was recently arrested three times over the last six month for using a woman's restroom in Grand Central Terminal in NYC. Shim works there and has to go now and then. Well, a couple of the transit police had an issue with that so they began to harrass shim after shim relieved shimself. Now shim has taken to using a cup in shim's own office. Note to the transit police, do you honestly think someone would put themselves through so much personal agony to cop a peak in a women's restroom? Further is shim offers you a glass of Mountain Dew, please drink up.

In Detroit, Michigan a 12-year old boy stuck some chewing gum on a $1.5 million Helen Frankenthaler painting. It is the abstract painting called, "The Bay". The gum left a stain on the painting. The boy has been suspended from school and his parents apparently beat his butt too. I think he should have to stand in the museum facing a chalkboard and leave his nose in a circle on that chalkboard until I get tired. My question how in the heck do you effect an abstract painting?

Don't blame me because that is the way I found it.

Peace...

Is it wise to domesticate a Pirate?

2006-02-28T09:10:00.000-08:00

Since I have taken the helm at home and become a self-employed, work from my home, lay-about Pirate, several daily tasks or chores have been hung around my neck. I have relieved the rest of the brood from dishwasher duties, laundry, picking up around the house, cooking dinner and taking out the garbage. Of late Mrs. Pirate has extended the "Pirate do" list by asking me to dust and mop and other minial tasks. I have taken to them as easy as the rest of my talents. Today she may have went to far.

First of all she needed me to help her take several items to her office. She had decided to treat all her co-workers with "Smoothies", a fruit and dairy blended concoction that are popular around our Pirate abode. So this morning I did my usual wake up have a diet coke (cold caffeine always comes first with me), then a cup, after the coffee does its job, down below, I stagger out to the car and wait for the two youngest. After taking Slick and Lil Sis and a two othr kids from the neighborhood to school, I return to take Jock and Mrs. Pirate to their daily stations. This morning after we dropped Jock off Mrs. Pirate reminde me that I had promised to go to Safeway this morning and purchase the items needed in the smoothies and to deliver them all to her job. Man! I tried everything to welch on the promise. I whined that I had dirty sweats and tattered shirt on. I hadn't even showered yet and smelt like yesterday's pits. My back hurt. I have amnesia. None of it worked. She wasn't buying.

I have never in my life been in my wife's office. I drop her off every morning and pick her up promptly at 5 pm, but never have I stepped into her office on the third floor of a state agency, an agency in a security building. I have met maybe one or two of her co-worker over the years but now I was looking more like a street person who would be better applied by standing on a corner with a cardboard sign pleading for nickles and blessing those who help me fill my gas tank then a businessman who works at home. I didn't even look presentable enough for a Pirate, least not one who would be meeting a covey of women.

With my protests squelched by the ruling party, Mrs. Pirate, I found myself in the atrium of a marbled building going through a security screening to see if I was a security risk (gotta love homeland security). After the little fellow, Ed, who appeared to be from India or Pakistan (I only bring up his country of origin because of the irony of an immigrant to Oregon screening a descendant from an Oregon trail family)determined that I was harmless he then awarded me a visitor's badge and made it very clear I had the badge for limited amount of time and was to return the badge promptly to him within the half-hour. If more time was needed I had to return to him and request additional time.

I finally made it to Mrs. Pirate's office where I fortunately got to meet many of her co-workers and deliver the blender and the smoothie goodies. Mrs. Pirate thought it funny to explain to her commrades how uncomfortable I was because of the lack of shower and the "man do you look like shit" outfit. I am thinking she works with some nice people who assured me there was no problem with them since they definately weren't the ones in my shoes. I made my exit as quick as i could and got the badge back to Ed.

Then when I got home I found several notes on the kitchen counter asking me to dust, mop, hand wash her green wool sweater and refill the "Tilex" spray bottle from the industrial quantity bottle. I figured no problem. I washed her beautiful green wool sweater that I proudly bought for her this last Christmas. A sweater that I was so excitd to get her after I saw her gren eyes glow when she first saw it in that swanky women clothing store. The sweater she was overjoyed to recieve on Christmas. I laid the hand washed and hand rung sweater on a towel laid over the counter. I laid it out so nicely and admired my first handwashing job. I got to thinking if this business doesn't work out I can always fall back on some domestic job or go live with the indigenous people because now, I am confident that I could wash clothes on a rock.

I then went about doing the other tasks, whistling as I worked, I dusted, I swept, I mopped, I refilled the "Tilex" spray bottle, further thoughts of Michael Keaton and his Mr. Mom movie. Man! I was getting good at this. Its not even 9 am yet and i have done more then most Marines will do all day.

After putting away my new tools of my newly found domestic vocation I noticed something terrible. Something that is going to get me killed. The beautiful Christmas-purchased-green-wool sweater was now as green as ever with large brown spots all over the front of the it. My God! what did I do?

When I was refilling the "Tilex" bottle I accidently slopped several drops across the front of the sweater. Shit I am dead.

Don't look at me, that's the way I found it.

Peace

A lot happening these days

2006-02-27T12:23:00.000-08:00

Right off the top I would like to say a thank you to three actors I enjoyed through the years, especially in my youth. Don Knotts, Barney Fife, has went to the studio in the sky. When I was kid he put more smiles on my face and made me laugh more then any actor I can remember. His attempts of being the steely faced cop or the suave lady's man with his straight man, Andy Griffith will always be imprinted in my mind.

Darren McGavin's role of the father on "A Christmas Story" will forever make leg lamps a specialty during the yuletide season and his creative use of the English language while he battles feral hounds and obnoxious furnaces. I also enjoyed his "Night Stalker" when I was in high school.

Dennis Weaver has also left this last couple of days. I have a special attachment to him due to the fact he looked and acted a lot like my Grandpa Bruce. Both men comfortable in a cowboy hat that sat above their hawkish facial features. When I was a kid watching McCloud I always saw my mother's father Bruce, in Weaver's New Mexico Sheriff in NYC character. Who can forget his role of the travling salesman in Spielberg's first movie, Duel? The confusion and fear that his face displayed as he tried to elude a crazy manical truck driver we never do see.

Thanks guys you entertained us well.

Is it me or are things getting a little silly these days? The VP accidently peppers a hunting buddy and the press goes into their "Watergate" mode. Meanwhile the Muslims are taking to the streets killing each other and burning up flags because of a cartoon. Then to top it off we find out that an Arab nation has purchased the rights to operate six ports in the USA.

Is it a little hypocritical of us to hope the war in Iraq will eventually lead to a relationship with the Middle East that resembles that of Japan today, if we give a country smaller then most Texas counties the back of our hand in the world market? Do you think those complaining and raising a ruckus about Dubai are standing a little close to the flag of prejudice or racism? I also think it is a little strange how those with the loudest voices against the port deal are silent when discussing the borders.

This morning while I dropped off the kids at school I hear Harry Belafonte in his present hoarsy sounding voice on the radio saying that the common enemy of the world's people is the capitalist system when its being ran by imperical tyrants. Does this idiot honestly think that? Does he think bush is acting as a tyranical imperialist? I also listened to somethings Belafonte and our modern day flower child, Cindy Sheehan say about our country while they stood on a podium with Chavez. Do these dolts really want to relive the 60s? I have friends that still haven't completely sobered up from the Summer of Love and as they see the end of the tunnel there is an element that wants to dig up Timothy Leary, afros, peace signs, braless tie dyes (my favorite) and Neru shirts. You know Pirates always look good in bell bottoms.

I hope that riled something in you and if it did don't blame me.

Peace.

P.S. A belated by one day happy 40th to Rev. Dr. Abigambi. May you have 40 more on the wild side of the street.

Home repair is for better men then me

2006-02-26T16:17:00.000-08:00

Thought I'd sneak in a word while Mrs. Pirate is busy working in the backyard. We got our weekly visit to Walmart for the groceries and finished most of the work around the house minus the three big repairs that wil have to wait until Spring and when money starts rolling in, or trickling in. How ever it flows I hope its soon.

This winter we had a leak in our roof right above the front door entrance. So now when you enter our abode you are met with an eye-sore. I have tried to make it look as appealing as possible but stripped down plaster and water stains can only be dressed up so much. What worries me is this will undoubtly become an issue with the outside roof as well. Then we have the upstairs bathroom floor that needs replaced. We have capsulated our showering in the house to the downstairs bathroom which has been interesting at best. Three teenagers getting their showers in during the morning rush has been touch and go on a few mornings. I am still able to get a lot of my reading done in the upstairs bathroom though.

The other project is the replacement of half of our backyard fence. Not being Bob Villa and never claiming to be the inside house projects will have to be hired out. As for the fence, that is one i can handle as soon as the weather warms up. I can dig holes and pound nails but doing floors and roofs; not on your life.

Whenever Mrs. Pirate starts in on the repair work I always remind her that never once in my life did I ever claim to be Mr. House Repair. I remind her if tshe goes back and looks at my application I boldly marked the box that said, "Worthless at house repairs". Oh, I can mow yards, dig up plants, plant other plants, paint, clean the pool, I am excellent at helping clean the house and as my new career of workjing at home has proven I am damn good at laundry and the dishwasher. I am also really good at having dinner done when the brood gets home at the end of the day along with walking the dogs and cleaning up after the cats. But home repairs, forget it.

People who know me well know to stay the hell away from me whenever I am busy taking on a home repair. It usually includes ten or more trips to Lowe's or Home Depot, a lot of pissing and moaning and eventually the repair is worse then when I first ateempted to fix it.

Don't get me wrong I admire those men and women who have the knack for fixing and rpairing things. I almost worship them but I am not on their team by any stretch of the imagination. Many have made me feel inadequate, not by anything they have done but because I internally feel so small next to such men. I have avoiding friendships just because I figured out that the male in the couple is handy around the house. When my in-laws come to visit I always want some kind of project going so I can put on the facade. My father-in-law owned and operated an equipment rental store and a sporting goods store when my wife was growing up and he has all the tools and the know how to do any home repair along with a career of killing a number of animals and being a guide for some of America's most famous wannabe hunters. I grew up hunting and fishing and do enjoy it when I get the opportunity but fixing things around the house I am impotent. Hell, I am a damn Pirate for heaven's sakes. I am use to destroying things not putting them back together.

I just heard the backdoor close, I think she is looking for me. Gotta go and look busy. So don't blame me 'cause that's the way I found it and in this instance the story I am sticking to.

Peace....

The Date Went Well

2006-02-25T16:49:00.000-08:00

I met him at his office. A nice office at that. John Clymore prints on every wall throughout the building. Remington brass scultpures and other western art decorated the place. All of the support staff I spoke with prior to us setting out for lunch, were pleasent and comfortable.

We first sat and drank strong coffee in their conference room and discussed the importance of having a good industruial appraisal do the appraisals for their insurance firm. Thn we parlayed that importance into how I was the guy they needed. We shared stories and experiences and soon found we had a lot in common.

we went and had a nice little sit down lunch and discussion. After we finished it was obvious he wanted me to kiss him on the first date. As I parted I assured him that we could have a long and meaningful relationship but in no way was I ready for a cowboy commitment. I explained how I rally could careless if there were cowboys who wanted to share chaps but I was not one of them. My persuation was toward the Annie Oakly type. But what ever they wanted to do in the privacy of their own ranch was fine with me.

Unless I totally misread my new friend I think we have a new avenue for appraisals and do think it will grow into something nice. I already have one set for March and anticipate many more. I have not made one dime so far but I have had many promising meetings and have covered the land with my mailings. I have recieved a few calls from the mailings but mostly seed planting at this stage. What is comforting is I have the funds and the game plan to go well into next fall without one project. If I land anything between then and now it is only gravy.

On a "why have I not been blogging" note. I have been so darn busy it has been difficult to juggle family, business, and blogging along with my own writing that I plan to share one day in a published format. This last week i had a basketball game to coach every night of the week except for Monday. This next Monday I will be coaching my last regualr season 8th grade girls game before the playoffs. Next Saturday my high school boys team I coach for the city league has their playoff tournament. As soon as both seasons are over I will have ample time on my hands to do other things.

I just finished reading stephn King's latest, Cell. Not bad but it is obvious once you have become a well established writer you do not have to put your best work on paper to get published.

I am in the middle of reading Lovely Bones a book dale Hanks sent me. Thanks Dale. I also picked up three more books this morning from Borders. Damn I love those gift cards from Borders. My kids got me a $50 on Christmas and this last month on my birthday I got $75 of Border's cards. So far it has turned into four books, a new John Prine and Leo Kotke CDs.

Don't blame me, that's the way I found it!

Peace.

Playing the Dating Game

2006-02-21T08:15:00.000-08:00

Today looks to be one of those businessmen flesh pressing days; "schmooze dating" if you will. I have a potential new client today that I have to buy lunch for today. Its been so long since I have dated I may have forgotten all the moves and the lines.

In the past I always let them do all the talking while I took mental notes. But I am older now work for myself and I am more desperate. Questions keep going through my head like, what are these younger business people into these days? What kind of music do they listen to? What do they talk about? If I fork out the money for the lunch will they feel obligated to put out? What if I can't perform like I use to? If I get it up can I sustain it? If they put out am I obligated to send them thank you notes later or flowers? Are they going to be interestd in Pirates? Worries, worries worries.

I'll be sure to wear clean underwear, brush my teeth, carry a quarter for the pay phone and have an escape plan. I'll keep a smile pasted on my face even if the topic bores me and even if I suspect that I am being used. I will not bring up life on the sea unless asked and I will keep my Pirate tongue to a minimum. When I part from the schmooze date I will be sure to be polite and say my thank you's as my mom always taught me and make the implications that this can go a lot further if they want it to. Its all up to them, for I need two to dance.

Oh boy! this is going to be exciting. Wish me luck...

Peace

Kurplunk

2006-02-20T12:58:00.000-08:00

Just as you thought it was safe to go back into the water the jolly old Pirate comes sailing back into town. No longer can you leave your treasures lying about. No longer can you wrap yourself in a sense of false security. Yes, its time to listen to that little voice in you that keeps reminding you that you left the iron on at home because the Pirate is back in town.

He's been away drying up his senses, un-numbing himself, putting his life right and avoiding the bad ass Mexican jailer that lurks at feeding time. He's been enduring torture that only Cheney would appreciate, ducking birdshot, hanging with the man on the street donned in an overcoat and bionoculars, watching and reporting on men in big shiny cars and fancy hats.

The Pirate has been sailing about visiting savages of many cultures, smoking with the chief, dancing to Van Morrison's Moondance, with the Ambassador to Togo's virgin daughter while he swallowed her jewels. He's been sleeping on the street of dreams, writing his memoirs of the time he spent with James Frey, drawing pictures in Denmark and pissing off the illiterate serfs of the land of flying carpets, terror, genies in a bottle, and Texas tea; "oil that is".

He has missed everyone of you and has had you all in his thoughts and thought of your musings most of his waking moments. Though he was living on the edge of paradise with the wind in his face he has kept abreast of the all of the mattering events on this big ball and has constructed his opinion on all of those events that matter and those that don't.

There was the fight in the bar in Frisco over the image of the American cowboy that he fought so bravely while he contemplated the new threats from Osama and his dope buddies. The ride across the plains in a stowed away freight car when he heard of the game the zebras stole from Seattle. He stood on a snow blown corner in NYC as he read about those burdened with the bird flu won the leadership of Palastine. He laughed while he sobered up in Buffalo over the VP's means of collecting back library fines and the self-serving press made claims of being the public conduit.

Where ever he stood during his vacation from reality he always sensed he needed to convey to his friends on the avenue and the blogoshpere that all is well, God is good, the Pirate is tall in his perch and his swashbuckling ways have not dulled. Tell Fast eddie to rack em up because the pirate is back.

And that's the way I found it.

Peace.

Let the Race begin

2006-01-27T15:55:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was asked what are five of my guilty pleasures. I was a little surprised by the question and not in my best form so i threw out five that came to mind. Reading them today I can see there is not much guilt in any of them. I must admit those who know me closely, know that my favorite guilty pleasure is discussing politics. I do not mean a heatd discussion but more of a discussion of the mechanics of politics, the game that is played and how that game affects the country and the world.

In no way do I associate my failures and successes to who is elected to the White House. I take full responsibilty for all my outcomes and refuse to point a finger at the President and their administration for any shortcomings that arrive at my door step as well as not giving them the credit for anything good that happens to me.

I am keen enough in my vision to realize there is only a smidget of difference between the two major parties and have no doubt anything we experience under one administration we most likely would have experienced the same under the fool that ran against them in the first place. There is little doubt in me that the on-going saga that we all see, hear and read about daily is basically scripted and played out for the voting public. Not the citizenry, not the haves or have nots, no all the yammering we associate with politics is played only for those who vote.

If Gore would have beaten Bush in 2000 the terror in NYC, Washington DC and Pennsylvania would have still happened and Gore would have had to respond and he wuld have responded just as Bush has done. And the dbte today would be how incompetitent he and his administration is and they lied about WMDs and blah blah blah.

Now why I wanted to post this today. I honestly think who is elected in 2008 has a chance to change this country like no other since maybe Lincoln or Reagan (yes I equate these two men with each other). In 2008 the race will be wide open. No one will be running for re-election which is a first for many generations of Americans. I believe it may be the first since Eisenhower's first run for office in 1952. This upcoming race will not have a recent VP or President in it.

So who will run? Hillary of course seems to be the obvious for the Democrats and there is Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico, the recent governor of Virginia, may be Al Gore but he may be in a padded room by then or Hillary will have him shot. The freshman Senator from Illinois or a complete dark horse, and we all know teddy kicks himself everyday for his drunk driving mishap or he'd be in this like a shot. On the republican side there should be McCain, Senator George Allen, maybe Rudy of NYC, we all know Arnold would love to, and my favorite Condoleeza Rice.

Who do you think will be a strong candidate? Who maybe a dark horse? Any surprises you may forsee? Is there another sawed-off nutcase like H. Ross Perot out there? Maybe a suave Hollywood type? Maybe my Ohio friend Libby? Or Marg in Pierce County who ciurrently bangs the gavel as the President of the Booster club? I'm curious who you all think should or will be our next leader.

GO CONDI!!!

One more candle

2006-01-26T10:43:00.000-08:00

I am a product of high school sweethearts, literally. Born to two young high school kids who should have been concentrating on their homework but preferred driving around in my dad's '57 chev. Maybe it was the MotorVu Drive in or the backroads home from the movies, whatever the mood, it produced the Pirate. I would never know it by the love that was bestowed upon me all my life by my family but I am confident that there was a time there was some real pissed off parents. I was fortunate to have grandparents that loved me dearly but their kids were only a Sophmore and Junior in high school when they had to lay it on the line. It was a small town and my grandfather was the local police chief so there is no doubt I was a viable tissue mass that rumors are made of. Thanks be to my parents and the old '57 chev.

When you say the number, 46, you think of your parent's ages. It sounds too close to 50. All kidding aside I have no reluctance to my age. I thank God every day he gave me another day to harrass others, to plot devious schemes, to consume air, to espouse my opinions, to fart in store aisles, to give the finger to those that just plan bug me, to be the devil's advocate in a discussion, to read and watch whatever I want and to blog. Thanks be to God.

You know Elvis may have been king and had the looks, the voice and all the ladies but he never saw 46. So he can have all that I'll take my gifts.

Others that share this day with me: the great state of Michigan, Paul Newman, Anita Baker, Wayne Gretzke, Eddie VanHalen, one of my best friends Yvonne, General Douglas McCarther, the guy that played Paul Drake, this chick I met in college in my early Pirate day, who crossed my evil path one night and was as wild as.. (that's another post), my niece, Katie, and I'm sure there are more that I can't remember because I'm getting old.

My boss was nice enough to give me the day off today. Yep, I slept in until 9:30 this morning and got up, got a cup of coffee, turned on an old Jimmy Stewart movie and like clockwork my dad called. No matter where I might be on my birthday my dad has always got a hold of me first, as long as I can remember.

Older, fat, lovable and one mean Pirate.

Meredith tagged me for Five guilty pleasures. So bear with me or should that be bare with me.

1. Hollywood. I love movies, TV and all the bullcrap that goes along with it. I am a Hollywoodphile if there is such a word. I have always loved trivia and where else can one find so much trivia other then the place where most trivial events happen, Hollywood.

2. Passion. I love anything with passion. A debate, an explaination, a sporting event, love making, kissing, a piece of art, anything that projects passion. Even if I don't agree with it I am enamored with passion.

3. Being alone. I like the solice, the time to think, the opportunity to reflect and sense of no one expecting anything from me at that moment. To be self-absorbed for awhile.

4. The partaking of the herb.

5. Lust.

Good thing Meredith only wanted 5.

A self imposed exile

2006-01-25T10:10:00.000-08:00

I have not died nor have I gave up blogging. I was just in hiatus or a self-imposed exile for awhile. I attended a memorial for my buddy Phil and was able to catch up with childhood friends I haven't seen in many years. Some as long as 20 years. I was reluctant to go to the memorial for some reason but I knew in my heart I had to go for Phil's mom, brother and sisters.

I find it a bit macabre with a sense of comfort when we can find so much laughter and smiles along with tear-welled eyes and broken hearts at such get togethers, with people we haven't been around in so many years, especially at a memorial for a unexpected death of a loved one. I spent most of the five hours at the memorial with a smile on my face and a tear for those Phil left behind.

Many great stories were told of our growing up together. Most memorable others told from another's view with twenty plus years of yellowing that clouded some of the memory dressing some of the stories in new clothes with familiar themes.

The picture is of most of those that grew up together with only a few missing. rmember there were only ten people in my graduating class.

Tomorrow is my 46th birthday and if I am up to it I may post. i plan to go back at the blogging 100% next week.

What does the Pirate do for a living

2006-01-16T11:06:00.000-08:00

I have been asked many times what I do for a living. What was I doing for Sir Van Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach? How did you fill their pockets with so much money?

My usual response when I'm asked by my wife, my kids or their friends, is I'm a hired killer, an assassin. I travel from place to place exterminating the blight of our world. Removing the sick animal from the herd in order to save the rest of the herd.

My target could be a small town businessman or business partner who has stolen millions from the local economy or those who trusted them, an ex-mobster that has found a paradise to hide in for their retirement, a child molester who continues to prey on the innocent, a drug dealer who has thwarted the law, a spouse abuser that avoids help and continues to terrorize those most reliant upon them. Bascially I am a social-oncologist removing a cancer from society, that has to be removed.

At first calling one's self a killer makes people snicker and roll their eyes. Then eventually they begin to think I might not be kidding, they either recoil from the potential danger of fratinizing with a being like myself or they kiddingly make remarks about my next target and attempt to assure me they are in my corner; buddies if you will. Most often no matter what side one comes down on believing me, I leave doubt in their eyes about me. Their assessment of my social involvement, my faith in God, my love of my family and friends, the ever present smile in my eyes and the constant humorous slant to my observations makes many believe that I am pulling their legs. My ability to only provide ambiguous information about my work and travel secures their fears I might be telling the truth.

To some I am a Pirate sailing from port to port gloating my last conquest and filling the tavern patron's bellies with cold beer and more spirited drink, leaving extra on the headboard for the damsel who surrendered to the filth of my piracy the evening before and consuming most of the air in every gathering about the town. going about the port spreading crumbs of my conquer in my wake. Creating legend, myth and dispair for all those who have witnessed or endurred my visit.

To some I may be their sports hero who scored hundreds of points on the hardwood and the grid iron, a sports legend that only rivaled the likes of Simpson, Ruth, West or Montana. Others may have known me through their reliance on my tender love toward them or through the unsettling way I rarely sit still. I know there are those who know me by my father's name and by the way my mother loved me. Many who originally doubted me that now firmly stand in my corner and the opposite of that.

I often tell people that I am a teller of tales spinning yarn in search for pulp. I have been known to tell people that I am a doer or a lay about, a dandy or a rough, others are told that I am an artist, a thief, a chief, and a crook. My favorite self imposed praise is that of a father to four, a husband, a son, a brother and a friend.

What do I do is a tough question for me. One that is hard to answer, not because I am trying to be difficult or am denying my vocation but because I do not know myself. On my tax return I claim to be an Industrial Appraiser. An appraiser of manufacturer's sites, applying several approaches to value and putting my hard earned college major, economics, to work to determine the value of a facility and how it fits in the micro and macro sense of its own industry.

But is that what I do? Or is it the means to pay for what I prefer to do? Am I to be defined by my choice of career or by my ambitions? Is it to be said the Pirate was a bolt-counter or he lived his life doing what came to him every day?

Thank you

2006-01-12T15:40:00.000-08:00

I thank you all for recent comments on Blaze's post on Ryan. It meant a lot to her and to me as well.

I apologize for not posting much of late. I have been up to my eye brows with my new business and the basketball league of which I am a coach and coordinator. This week I have had little time to drop in and let everyone know that I'm still here.

Though it has been a bumpy road of late for friends of my daughter and myself it has not been nearly as bad on us as these recent loses have been on the immediate families. I appreciate all of your prayers in both Phil's and Ryan's loses. I am confident these prayers will find their way into these two mens families and provide comfort in ways we will never know.

I've been trying to get thirty new letters and phone calls completed each day in my business. This goal has found itself to be quite a task to anage every day. So far I have met the goal of at least thirty per day. If anything I'm keeping the next postage increase at bay.

Sir Von Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach called tghe other day and tried to rip me for soliciting people they claim are their clients. Since I never signed a non-compete and Asswipe did provide a letter that he was retiring, I told him business is business. Sorry he feels tread upon but he should have considered that when he kicked Can-O-Corn and myself to the curb.

You should have heard the sawed-off piece of ass wipe as he screamed and yelled at me on the phone and made threat after threat. I thought I was witnessing my first self-combustion over the phone. He was telling me I have dug a deep hole for myself and he won't help me out of it.

I kept asking him why it mattered since he was retiring? He told me to send him my mailing list so he could gleem out those clients he feels are his. My response was, RIGHT!.

No, no, sputnik, you send me your list and I'll do the gleeming. Just as you thought it was safe to go back in the water and this jerk shows up and tries crapping in the water.

Well that's the way I found it.

Peace...

A comment from Blaze

2006-01-09T18:07:00.000-08:00

My daughter had seen my post on Ryan Walker and added her comment. I thought it was far more important then my post. now you can see why I feel blessed to have her as a daughter.

Thank you for everyones prayers. I always read my dads blog but very little do I ever add my two cents. Today I feel that I need to. As everyone knows my friend was killed this last week in Iraq, and as everyone also knows that I am NOT republican, I do not agree with this war and thats why I need to say something today. Every paper I have read this week and every news channel has talked about my dear friend Ryan as a brave soldier. A war hero, Yes he is. I also thank him for all he has given this country but he is so more than that. No newspaper has talked about Ryan as he was, the everyday hero. Ryan and I were roomates in college and good friends. Ryans dreams were not to go to war a die for his country. Ryan was a loving guy everybody enjoyed to be with. Ryan's dream was to get a Firefighter/Paramedic job, get married have a few kids and hang out with his friends.
Ryan was a wrestler in high school and always made sure everyone knew how many times he went to state. If he could he would of stayed a high school wrestler his entire life. every time a group of friends got together he would turn our living room into a wrestling match.
Ryan always ate mac and cheeze for dinner out of the pan me made it in because he hated doing dishes.
He was the worst dancer but he always put on some stupid rap song and danced around the living room to make people smile.
He was never mad.
He always had a huge smile on his face.
All his friends would giggle if he swore because it sounded so funny coming from Ryan's mouth.
He hated drinking, he would drink one beer and hold it all night and act as stupid and drunk as everyone else so he fit in.
And he always drove us home from parties safely.
Every girl in school had a crush on him but he was still in love with his high school sweetheart, Darcee. I don't have any full set of dishes because he was a clutz and broke one of everything.
He stayed up late studing everynight, school was not easy for him but he always made it look like a snap. Usally had a 4.0 avg. He graduated the Fire program at Chemeketa Comm. a few years ago and was working on all his medical classes. He was accepted to the Paramedic program and one day later went to join the millitary to be medic for all of our country.
He enjoyed every kind of music.
He was in the gym countinously.
He would make me walk the two blocks to school even if it was raining. He would call me a pansy if I drove but everytime I offered him a ride home he would take it.
He loved oreo cookies.
He would leave his bedroom door open in the night because I was scared of the dark and it made me feel better if he could hear me if I yelled.
He was very shy he always blushed if someone said something inapproprate.
He would never say a rude thing about anybody.
He never complained about a thing. He dyed his hair more than I did. Ryan Walker was a great guy, good friend and much loved by many of us. Yes he was a soldier. But I want everyone to know he was so much more than that. Please keep all our heroes in you prayers.

Just a couple of cow pokes

2006-01-09T09:01:00.000-08:00

Where would someone come up with such a name for a movie based on the love between two cowboys? I snickered when I first heard of the movie, "Brokeback Mountain". Not as much at the subject matter but by the name of a movie covering the subject matter. Call me a homophobe or a closed minded redneck or what ever but allow me a sense of humor. But why "Brokeback"? It may be too descriptive.

My first thought was this movie is going to pucker the ass of all those old cowboys. I pictured John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Jimmy Stewart, Ronald Reagan and Gene Autry all rolling over in their graves. Then I thought this may be a stroke of genius by the producers. It may be an attempt to roll up a chick flick and guy movie all in one.

As a cowboy movie it may be the first time the good guy gets it in the end.

Don't give me any of your wrath because that's the way I found it.

Peace...

Ryan Walker

2006-01-07T10:19:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my oldest daughter, Blaze called and was crying. She told me one of her roommates from college, Ryan Walker was killed in Baghdad. It was a very tough conversation and one that brings this war to one's own front door.

You see Blaze and most of her friends disagree with the war on the same principle I agree with it. We have had many discussions about the war knowing that we have family and friends on the front lines. The conversations have never been heated. We have found ground to agree to disagree, if you will. Blaze and Ryan though opposite in political opinion were equal in their love of country and the rights we possess. They also have a nature within themselves that drives them to serve others. They remained friends as many college friends do.

Ryan Walker who I met only a few times but was amused by. He was a young Republican type, conservative of a man with an urgency to serve. When I met him he was sharing an apartment with Blaze while they went throught the firefighting and paramedic courses in college. He attended several of our family's get togethers for no other reason other then to find a free meal like any intelligent college kid would and to talk with people. He always greeted you with a smile, a manly look in the eye and a firm handshake. I was impressed with his zeal and his lack of restraint to share his opinions. My kind of guy.

He was in Baghdad by choice and was serving all of man kind by preserving freedom for those of us who often take it for granted and delivering freedom to those who know nothing of it. He was a paramedic who was to come home soon and from what I gather continue his zeal to serve as a paramedic in our community. He was a real hero.

My heart and prayers go out to Ryan Walker, his family, his friends and those who served along side of him. Thank you Ryan.

In the News

2006-01-06T08:35:00.000-08:00

Scanning the globe, reading papers and blogs from around the world, eaves dropping, and plan old making stuff up I have gathered some crazy shit going down on this big ball.

Date line, London. Some scientist with not much to do, have recently discovered that pets are getting fat. According to recent studies, 33% of all pets are over weight. They have discovered that these pets eventually develop health problems such as diabetes, high blood pressure, and heart ailments. Well duh! I certainly hope with all the problems Britian has, this is not one of their major concerns. From my experience the people that I have known, that watch every aspect of their pet's health, usually bury their pet long before the fat yippy dog that the old lady at the end of block owns.

From France. An elderly performance artist attacks a toilet with a hammer. The Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain" a porcelin urinal (pisser, head, john, crapper, etc) built in 1917 and considered by many, one of the greatest works of art and is estimated to be worth $3.6 million, was slightly chipped by the performance artist. Apparently this is not the first time the constipated artist has attacked the "Fountain" located in Nimes, France. In 1993 he took a piss in it.

Rush, Colorado. Rancher Clyde Cless says he has a theory on what happened to his prized heifer over a decade ago. Apparently the prized cow was killed and had its lips, tongue, eyes, ears and reproductive organs removed in laserlike fashion. The rancher suspects the government is behind the killing of the animal. "Cuz dem guys are da only folks who have tools like dat". It was also heard that Oliver Stone and Michael Moore are fighting over the rights to the story. Stone thinks Nixon and the CIA are obviously behind this and Moore just wants another whack at Bush. I'm smelling Oscar here...

Today January 6 is "Bean Day". Man its going to be a smelly lair tonight. Phffft!!

At a resort in Israel a millonaire Brit named, Sharon Tendler married a 35-year-old dolphin, named Cindy. The only weird thing here is a male dolphin with the name, Cindy. Its like the ranch hand character that replaced Adam Cartwright on Bonanza who was named Candy. I suppose naming a cowboy these days Candy isn't all that farfetched. Still smelling Oscar...

Russia. A bus driver named Pavel Korban has had a picture of the Russian President, Putin, tattooed on his chest. I have heard of government dependancy but this may be going a little too far. It was over heard during the arguement between Oliver Stone and Michael Moore that Moore was going to have Bush's face tattooed on his butt crack but hadn't decided which one.

Somewhere in the Middle East. Michael Jackson has converted to Islam and is having his own mosque built near his home in the desert. A sigh of relief was heard from the Jehova Witnesses.

From Hollywood. Angelina Jolie has been voted the sexiest star by the group that calls itself the "Lipstick Lesbians". I'm thinking good choice and wanting to know why I was not invited to this year's convention. Just another thing I have in common with lesbians.

Several months ago Billy Bob Thornton claimed that one of the reasons he and Angelina's marriage imploded was because making love with her was like "Screwing a couch". Billy Bob I think the problem is you have a bad aim.

I don't think its Oscar I smell. And that's how I found it and I'm out of here til later.

Peace...

Bus ride

2006-01-05T09:01:00.000-08:00

I have had this reoccurring dream of late. This is the third time in my life I have had a dream continue over a period of time. Several years ago I had a series of dreams that no matter what happened in the dream it always concluded in Denver, Colorado. Not too strange unless you consider I have never been to Denver.

A few months ago I had a dream that I could fly. I mean literally fly, like Superman without the cape. In every dream I had over a period of time, I always found myself conveying to others that my true secret, was I could fly.

What is different from the current dream is that unlike the other dream series this dream is always the same but ends a little different every time. The two earlier series always ended the same but were only conclusions to different dreams.

My current dream I am standing at the front of a city bus with my back to the windshield. I am holding onto two silver posts, one for each hand, facing the back of the bus that is filled with people I have never seen before. Faces in the crowd if you will. The only familiar person on the bus is the driver who I look over to twice in the dream. The driver is Hoss of Old Snake Horsetail fame.

The bus is careening through a major city with hills. I can see the buildings through the windows on both sides of the bus but I am not familiar with any of the buildings. As the bus speeds down hill, after hill, after hill I hang on tighter and tighter to the two silver posts, swaying with the flow of the bus. Leaning one direction and then the other. Its like downhill skiing, backwards.

Then people in the bus request me to sing "Mustang Sally" and all I can think of when they ask me to sing is the movie, Bullett. I plead with them to allow me to tell them about why I chose the Kansas City Chiefs to beat the Minnesota Vikings in the Super Bowl in 1970 and they all keep requesting "Mustang Sally" the way Steve McQueen would have sang it. I tell them I have never heard Steve McQueen sing but I have seen Len Dawson throw a football.

What changes at this stage is sometimes I am able to get someone else to get up and sing with me. Or maybe someone else gets up and sings the song in my place, but never is it steve McQueen. And on occasions Mr. Howe shows up and explains to the bus riders why he thought it was going to be like taking candy from a baby, when he took the $20 bet from a 10 year old kid and so he took Minnesota to win.

Ode to My Friend Phil Lent

2006-01-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

I just got word my best friend from my youth, Phil Lent, died of a heart attack last night in his home in Juneau, Alaska. I was hit pretty hard because I am currently writing a story about one of our adventures. I had not seen Phil in a lot of years but he was rarely far from my heart and always in my memories of growing up in Valsetz. I thought I would repost this story to give you an idea what kind of mischief we often found ourelves in. Here's to you Phil. I love you man.

One day in the fifth grade my best friend, Phil and I were teasing this girl from our class about her coat. We were 10 years old and ruthless. I actually don’t recall teasing her about her coat but that is what we ended up getting into trouble for

As soon as we were back in our class sitting at our desks, Mr. Shenk our fifth grade teacher comes storming into the room and headed directly back to his desk. From his desk he yanks out his paddle (I was in grade school in the 1960s so beating the shit out of kids like me was the norm) and turns to both Phil and I and says, “You two up in the ceramic room now! Before I go any further I need to tell you a little about Mr. Shenk.

Mr. Shenk looked and talked just like Adolph Hitler. I know you’re saying yeh, sure he did. I mean it he did. This guy had jet black hair greased down and parted right smack in the middle. And he sported a little tickler mustache. He was proud of his German ancestry and loved telling us about it. This is the man that one day stood in front of the class and without batting and eye or fighting off a smile told the whole fifth grade class that there will never be a black quarterback in the NFL because blacks were too stupid to lead teams to championships. Keeping in mind this is 1969. Kids our age didn’t have a lot of world knowledge; hell half of us didn’t even have televisions least not cable. If it wasn’t in a Mad magazine or a comic book or a Hardy Boy’s mystery it most likely didn’t exist.

To my memory Mr. Shenk was the first person to introduce us to the outside world. What he had done was he started bringing in what I thought was home movies and slides. They were our introduction to the Holocaust. Here are all these nine and ten year olds watching skeletal people being marched into death camps and eventually into the gas chambers. I mean this shit scared the hell out of us. And when he’d talk about the movies and slides the guy would get so excited he would march back and forth waving his arms. Almost like a fit or something.

Any way on this day, Mr. Shenk or Hitler as most of us little smart ass fifth grade boys referred to him as, was marching right behind Phil and I. Down the hall and up into the ceramic room we marched with Hitler waving his paddle in the air behind us. The ceramic room was one of the pride and joys of our little country school.

Mrs. Barth who was at the time older than mud and was the fourth grade teacher was also the keeper of the ceramic room and all that was ceramic. There weren’t a lot of modern technologies or conveniences in the little town I grew up in, therefore, ceramics pretty much ruled for Christmas gifts, Mother’s day gifts and any other reason for gift giving. There wasn’t a house in the town that didn’t have a knick-knack shelf full of ceramic animals, or wise men from Mrs. Barth’s ceramic collection. The ceramic room also doubled as a torture room.

Hitler got us up into the room and parked our little butts against the window and started in on another one of his diatribe speeches about, loving one another, being nice to others, treating others as you wanted to be treated all the stuff that was foreign to a fifth grade boy. I mean heck she was a girl. Why would we want to be nice to her? You know cooties and all that crap. He continued his wrath, yelling and spitting and waving the paddle around. All of a sudden I began to laugh. Uncontrollably I laughed and laughed and laughed. And Phil started crying, Frank shut up he’s going to kill us. Ceasing on my laugh or Phil’s fear Hitler moved in on us. Face red, eyes glued on us, saliva streaming from the side of his mouth he slammed the paddle on the worktable next to us. “Turn around and grab your ankles, Booooyees!” he sneeringly commanded us. Phil crying and me laughing and Hitler about to burst we both slowly started to turn around. But before we could turn completely around a pretty little ceramic canary fell from the shelf above the table and smashed on to the floor into little pieces.

We all stopped and stared at the smashed canary. Then another canary fell and then another and then all of a sudden the shelf gave out and it fell. As the top shelf fell it started taking other shelves with it. Hitler began trying to catch as many of the falling ceramic pieces he could, catching one to every three or four that fell to their death. Before you we knew it the floor was littered with dead wise men, dead canaries, dead frogs and dead ceramic Christmas gifts. Hitler looked up at the two of us and said, “Get your butts back to class”.

Later that day we were walking home with the girl we had teased earlier in the day and saw Mr. Shenk pleading for his life with Mrs. Barth. Needless to say Christmas was little commercial like that year.

Mr. Shenk left us several years ago and I hope he and Phil are waiting in some ceramic room somewhere in heaven to see if we can fix any of those canaries.

Phillip Douglas Lent, March 31, 1960 to January 3, 2006

Take the time if you will

2006-01-04T09:33:00.000-08:00

Please take the time today and open the above link. I think if you take the time to watch this video the calamity of today's world may be more clear to you. It doesn't matter what political party or persuasion you lean toward, it does matter how your family came to call this great country, home and it matters even less if you think Bush is the devil or not this is worth watching and reflecting on.

I am not techie enough to do this one right but all you have to do is copy the link below and put it in the address line and enter. It takes a few minutes to set up and the video runs six minutes. I assure you it is worth the time.

http://www.giorgioserafini.com/war_video.htm

First Day In charge

2006-01-03T11:33:00.000-08:00

I did get the 250 letters into the mailbox last night but this morning I woke up sicker then a dog. My holiday festives shooting out in both directions in a Sam Hell hurry. Dizzy, aching and a slight fever. Can you believe it I have to call in on my first day in charge.

So I wandered downstairs to the cell phone and called my home phone and left a message. It was great I tired to make my voice sound like I was possibly on my last breath. "Heellloooo, Pirate. I don't fell good todayyy. I'm stying home in bed."

I hope he doesn't call me back and rip into me. Calling me a no good for nothing, lazy lay about deck hand.

I hope none of you gets this bug.

***Update; felt better in the afternoon and got at it. I picked up a couple of projects from a contact. He needs my work in Idaho next week. So far so good.

Football, Football, Football

2006-01-02T15:53:00.000-08:00

I'm starting to like this life of lazy. I don't think I've watched so much football in my life. Coming from a football junkie that means a lot of football. I started off with the "Will he retire or will he return Bowl" where some of us football lovers may have watched the last of Bret Favre while he walloped the soon to be Super Bowl Champs, Seattle Seahawks. I know Dale has Broncos to hope for and Teresa has those rascally Colts, but I'm going out on the limb right now and will give it to the Seahawks.

Then there was the "Napping Bowl" where I dozed in and out of conscienceness as the Redskins beat the Eagles. By the way where is McNabb when the game is on the line? Probably eating soup.

Then I finished my night off with my Rams puting the hurts on them damn Cowboys. It brought back great memories. When I was growing up it seemed that the NFC always came down to the Cowboys, Vikings and the Rams to see who would have the oportunity to play the Steelers in the Super Bowl. My middle brother Kevin who is a year younger thn me was a major Cowboy fan and I idolized Roman Gabriel, Jck Snow and the Fearsome Foursome of the Rams. Then like clockwork the Rams would end up playing in the NFC champoiinship against the Cowboys and their man Roger Staubach. And without fail the Rams would lose and I'd be set preparing for the next year. There were a lot of times back then where somewhere along the line Kevin would get into his gloating manner and I'd have to kick his butt. I remember one night me in the top bunk and him in the bottom. He was down there going on about something about the game and kicking the bottom of my mattress. I swung down over the edge in perfect Pirate fashion and landed both of my feet right into his head. Then the next day the Steelers put the hurts on the damn Cowboys.

So last night was delightful.

Today, Bowl game after bowl game. Right now I'm watching Ohio State put the hurts on Notre Dame. Its half time and the announcers remin true to their passion and are busy either explaining why Notre Dame is behind and how they are going to come back. Hey, Muesberger, figure it out the Irish are way over rated and this would have happened if the ducks had gotten to play them too.
Don't get me started on the Notre Dame or Brent Muesburger.

I forgot to mention I have been putting together my first solicitation mailing of 250 letters that have to go out tonight. I originally thought 100 would be fine but doubt set in. I have licked so many envelopes today I think my tongue has grown. Maybe i should start my own rock band and give Gene Simmons a run for the money.

Its Official We Are Old

2006-01-01T12:39:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year to all of you. I say that without a hangover. I say it without any sleep in my voice or head. I say it because I honestly believe this will be a great year.

Mrs. Pirate and myself found ourselves alone last night. All three of the teenagers had bowling and video game parties to go to. And people gave up asking us out for New Years several years ago because they got tired of the turn downs. So we were stuck at home alone, left with nothing but our own imaginations.

So we watched Lonesome Dove. Snacked on things we had bought just in case we felt like we'd be in the mood for a party. I drank a couple of cold beers. Then about 8 o'clock Mrs. Pirate went to bed without and I decided to see what Dick Clark looked like. I feel asleep before midnight. It must be the first time since I was a little kid watching WC Field and Marx Brother's movies on New Year's Eve.

We then slept in until 9 am and laid in bed for awhile watching football. I have no idea if this is any indication of things to come or not. It just might mean we are getting old. I mean Mrs. Pirate is getting old.

I will let you in on a little secret with me and New Years. My birthday is at the end of January so I really don't start any resolutions or begin anything with a New Year spirit until after my birthday. This gives me time to rethink any promises I was pondering. Or any resolutions I may have thought of. So I don't have to go around in December saying silly things like at midnight 12/31 I will no longer drink, smoke, eat too much, scratch my privates in public, give the bird to authority, defy death, or be a better person. I can save that until the last week of January. And at that time if I detect others breaking their promises or resolutions I take that as an out avoid putting myself in such pickles.

Oh, I know your sying that's cheating but that is what Pirates do. Happy New Year to you that have made the promises and I hope for your sake you are able to meet those resolutions. But don't be too tough on yourself if you don't.

Peace...

End of one and a beginning of another

2005-12-31T12:24:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here printing out my first solicitations to client hopefuls and playing with my printer. I plan to print and mail at least 100 of them today. My goal is to hit 2006 running hard enough to break a sweat and easy enough to enjoy the moment.

I have Van Morrison playing in the background with his optimistic celtic flair, even his songs about rain are positive. If you have been in the Willamette Valley this last two weeks you know how tough it is to be upbeat about rain.

Been driving my family nuts lately with my constant play of Merle Haggard. They'll go along with the Okie from Muskogie, but all the other barroom ballads don't seem to interest any of them. Lil Sis bought me a Merle Haggard CD for Christmas and I think I've worn a hole in it. Music is a mood thing with me as a I suspect it is for most. I enjoy too many types of music genres and too many different artist to be pigeon holed into one singer or genre. And lately I've been craving the barstool style of Merle.

Unlike Merle's music implies, I don't spend much of my time in watering holes and never was one who dwelled over a lost love. Don't get me wrong i have had my heart torn out and smashed into the ground a number of times, and deservinly so. I just don't take up too much of my life dwelling on them. I usually pick the damn heart up out of the dirt, brush it off, plug it back in and fake it or awhile.

A good friend sent me a short story she is working on asked me for my objective opinion. I see this request as an honor but I hope she can take what an objective Pirate might have to say. I wish all of you a great New Year and pray that many of us get the chance to meet each other this year and I look forward to reading all the posts. I also plan to spend more time on the keyboards typing for fun and with some luck publish something.

Peace...

Just a Quick Post

2005-12-29T08:39:00.000-08:00

I wanted to let you all to know that I'm still alive and kicking. Had a great Christmas and enjoyed being with the brood. A lot of laughs, watched a lot of movies and ate a lot of food.

Today is my last day slaying dragons for Sir Von Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach. Since Peach has to have one of her hooves repaired they decided to close a day earlier. The master will be taking Can-O-Corn and myself to a swanky upscale place for lunch today. I hope he plans on picking up the tab.

I have already picked a job project ofr the first two weeks of 2006. I am getting this feeling that this new venture may turn out to be just what the doctor ordered. I have already set up my schedule starting next Tuesday. Drop the Mrs. Pirate off at work at 6:30, drop Lil Sis off at school around 7:00. Go for a morning walk or run, coffee and blog, work on whatever I am writing for an hour or two and then work on whatever projects I have going for my business. My blood pressure is already dropping.

Give a little bit and make your life shine

2005-12-23T07:53:00.000-08:00

Anyone that has dealt with depression, the blues, the blahs, the "I can't take much more of this" feelings. May already know this, if you don't I hope it helps you.

Serotonin is a neurotransmitter found in the brain and blood stream of mammals. It is responsible for the "Man, do I feel good!" job in all of us. When you are lacking this neurotransmitter you usually experience the blues at some degree. How it effects you or how you regulate the the levels of serotonin in individuals has not been discovered yet, but the medical industry has found ways to elevate the levels of serotonin in individuals, thus medications like Zoloft and similar neurotransmitter stimulants.

As someone that at one time several years ago was prescribed Zoloft I know of what I speak. At the time I was taking Zoloft I was going through some real tough times, working full time, running two outside businesses, my family was rather young at the time and there were issues inside of me that I had never faced and had always conveniently put aside. With a understanding wife and some close friends I was encouraged to go see a doctor and that doctor opened my eyes to what was happening to me. Once I began taking the prescription my life did change and I did begin my journey back to happiness. I can only describe Zoloft as something that changed my life from "black and white" to "color".

I have been off the prescription for many years and have discovered something else that works as well for me. No its not pot, or another drug, its kindness. There have been studies that have shown that when someone experiences an act of kindness toward them their level of serotonin rises. Yes, that's right you can increase the level of serotonin or happiness in someone else simply by showing any form of kindness toward them. Holding a door for a busy person as they leave a building, smile at a stranger, pay for someone's cup of coffee, millions of things we can do for each other.

The other interesting part of the kindness study was the person who does the act of kindness has their levels of serotonin rise as well. Whenever you give of yourself without any expectations of a return that act of kindness gives your level of serotonin a boost.

The other thing that is so cool about this kindness study is someone who views this act of kindness without any participation themselves experiences the rise in their serotonin too.

So if you are feeling down this Christmas or anytime of the year set your sights on raising your serotonin and the levels of those around you. Bringing the "Man, do I feel good" feeling to others is an excellent choice for all of us.

And that's all I have to say on that. As soon as the Christmas season is over right back to the "bad ass" Pirate stuff and I will only be taking a few prisoners this time.

Tagged by Chloe

2005-12-19T10:44:00.000-08:00

Chloe, my friend who is a freelance writer living in Greece with her young son has tagged me on this little, lets-find-out-more-about-you, survey. I think these surveys are funa dn give you an opportunity to post without turning on the artisic muse or bullshitting your way through a post.

I thank all of you for your comments about my family in the last post.

What was I doing 10 years ago?: I was working as a bureacrat for the state of Oregon harrassing hard working people and stealing their money to give it over to the government so they could allocatted the money to where it would give those in charge the best opportunity to be re-elected. It was a dead end job meant only for those who didn't mind being subjected to a mind-numb existance.

I also was an owner/operator of my own mobile lube company where I maitained the service schedules for two large utility companies and severtal small companies. I also was involved with my two brothers in a real estate owning and working your ass off venture. The kids were much younger and required more maitenance then they do today so I'd say my wife and I were running ragged.

What was I doing 5 years ago?: The drugs the government gave me to help maintain my subserviant manner was starting to wear off. I had moments of clearity and a vision of one day breaking out of "Processville" and becoming an independent thinker.

What was I doing last year?: Making Sir Von Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach a butt load of money. But I must be honest they were paying better then anyone had ever paid me before.

What was I doing yesterday?: Finishing the final touches of the Christmas shop-lifting (just kidding). And enjoying the cold wet and snowy weather of the Willamette Valley.

5 yummy things I like:

1. pepperoni & olives pizza (cold or hot it just doesn't matter)
2. cheese cake
3. potatoes (see Dan you do put an E in there when it is plural)
4. Georgia Mudfudge blizzard at DQ and sex.
5. French roast coffee. (thick, hot with lots of sugar and cream)

5 things I know by heart:

1. Bank account number
2. social security number
3. driver's license number
4. I am loved by family, friends and God
5. The lyrics to Rhimestone Cowboy and Running Bare

5 Things I do if I had lots of money:

1. eliminate all my families money problems
2. set up a trust fund to supply money for college and future business ventures for anyone related to my wife or myself for generations. (i.e. put the words "inheritance" and "retirement" into our family's lineage)
3. Travel the world
4. Own a bookstore
5. Have a home in many different places around the world.

5 places I'd escape to:

1. Belize
2. Scotland
3. Ireland
4. Nova Scotia
5. Greece

5 Favorite TV shows

1. My Name is Earl
2. The Office
3. West Wing
4. Family Guy
5. Medium

5 Things I would never wear:

1. chasity belt
2. Dress
3. Dallas Cowboy shirt
4. A halo
5. Swaztika

5 Things I enjoy doing:

1. making love
2. laughing and being with people
3. intellectually discussing deep matters with those who agree and disagree.
4. reading and writing
5. quiet time for myself, alone to reflect and mellow out

I want to tag. Dale, Kristi, Cheryl, Jen (bbgirl), Margaret, Blither, Opie and Hoss.

Hey Axe Murderers! Over here!

2005-12-16T15:34:00.000-08:00

My youngest daughter is always saying my blogging is only going to bring some axe murderer after us. I say bring 'em on.

The players are Blaze my oldest daughter, Lil Sis the youngest daughter (blonde), Slick the smallest son, Jock the oldest son and Pirate Wannabe, Blaze's sweetie.

Later when I looked at this picture I realized how God gave me kids far better then myself. I had asked them to give me the finger (as in the bird) and that is why they are pointing at me. I can assure you none of these people will ever make it as a Pirate, they better keep their civilian jobs.

These were taken at Wannabe and Blazes crib. She just got done stuffing us with her lasagna. This is where it hit me I needed seven kids.

I do plan to actually post something today

2005-12-15T16:30:00.000-08:00

Been busy working at home today. Haven't showered yet and I took a nap. Boy am I ever ambitious. The kids knew I was home today so naturally three telephone calls from the three kids that still live at home. They needed me to run an errand for them. I also discovered that the two dogs fart more then I do. The schnauzer's don't stink as bad as the labs but his breath does, must be the kitty rocha.

Went to Blazes for dinner the other night. She and her beau invited all of us over for lasagna and salad. Had a great time taking pictures of the crew and will post them on the blog this week.

Had a great idea while we ate. I have been fortunate to have four kids. If I can convince them to all stay in the Salem area when they leave home and have families I would have a place to hangout and have dinner, watch TV, and fart at four different places a week. Man what an idiot I didn't have seven kids. Now I have to figure out what to do with the other three days.

The Numbers are Shrinking Around here

2005-12-14T12:57:00.000-08:00

I can't figure out if I didn't get the word that we were all suppose to be out by such and such day or if I am the only one still working here. Can-O-Corn and his wife went on vacation this week to Flagstaff, Arizona. Not a great time to leave for vacation when they are rolling up the business but they had it planned long before the bombshell of unemployment was laid in front of us. They are one of the millions in America that own timeshares so their allotted time and condo had already been put into play. So it was use it or lose it.

Everyone else seems to be missing. Oh, except the tyrannical, sawed-off, Sir Von Asswipe and his lovely and gracious wife, Peach. They keep rolling in here at odd hours of the day. Lurking the halls, slamming and locking doors behind them as they go from room to room. They stay in the king's office the most but on occasion they bring their foot stomping, screeching banter down to Peach's office, which is next to mine, so I can hear them argue over the most innane stuff.

Here's an example of their arguing.

Peach: What time do you want the help to arrive at the dinner party Saturday night?

Asswipe: 5 or 5:30 it doesn't matter.

Peach: (In her most patronizing manner and with her highest decible screech) 5 o'clock or 5:30? What is it?

Asswipe: It doesn't matter.

Peach: It does matter damn it. Now what time 5 or 5:30?

Asswipe: You pick the time.

Peach: Okay. If you aren't going to step up and nail it down, I will. I say 5 o'clock. You have any problem with that?

Asswipe: No, that's fine.

Peach: That's fine?

Asswipe: I mean okay.

Peach What is it? Fine? Or okay?

Asswipe: Dammit just do it yourself! (stomps down to his office and slams the door)

Peach: (On the phone with the help) This is Queen Peach. We will need you at the house between 5 and 5:30 Saturday. (She stomps down the hall to Asswipe's office and slams the door behind her).

Note to self. Talk to the people across the hall and ask them what they have against me. Once again this year they dropped off a large bucket of assorted popcorn flavors, already popped and in assorted bags. Thre bucket isn't in our office three minutes before Peach has laid claim on what bags are her's and what bags go to other people. Then she marches around the office shoving the assorted flavors down her face.

When she has a mouthful she always seems to find her way into my office and plops her butt in a chair and proceeds to show me how she can devour popping corn. Yuck!

Its not as bad as the red rope but damn put a cover on that trap I say. She likes to eat with her mouth open so it gives the appearance of a front loading tumble dryer slopping food around. And the sound of the pop corn in her tumble dryer sounds like she is tearing a sty-ra-foam cooler apart with her teeth. OH My God. 12 more days of work.....

Helping somebody

2005-12-12T15:38:00.000-08:00

I stayed home and worked today. Avoided the office. I have a hard time watching a corpse going bad on the bone. Last Friday I was the only one that bothered to come in. No co-workers, Sir Von Asswipe or his lovely and gracious wife, Peach until late in the day.

I spent the whole day blogging and reading a book. there was the occasional call for the master or his queen. Nothing that couldn't wait. Then about 3:30 Peach arrived. I had my headphones on, busy reading some of the HNT posts (yes, I read the posts). I felt the office floor shake and I thought we were having another earthquake when the queen suddenly appeared at the door of my office. "So there is someone in the office today", she stated. "We've been up at the house preparing for a dinner we are putting on for the less fortunate, or needy from our church."

I must admit I've know these people for some time and have never heard a church mentioned by either of them. In fact, I've been on the road with Sir Von Asswipe on many occasions where on Sunday I went to church and have always invited him. He has always pooh-poohed it by saying he doesn't know anyone there. I'd always tell him I only knew one guy and he is always there. His puzzled look always told me he had no idea who I was talking about.

"Asswipe has decided in the next phase of his life he will reach out to those who are less fortunate then we have been". Peach informed me. "It is 'busy" work getting ready for those type of people. The caterers and the people we hired to set up the receiving area didn't even get to our house until a little after noon."

"What did you do all day until they came", I asked?

"We prepared for their arrival", she told me reassuring she was busy.

"I wanted to tell you that Asswipe and I are very happy the way you responded to the news of the firm closing. You are the only one that took it without being upset." she told me as she popped a handful of red rope in her mouth. As she tried to kill the wad of red gob in her mouth she continued. "We thought it was best to lay off everyone during the holiday season because it allowed them to get out and network for their next jobs."

I was hypnotized watching her shove another handful of red rope in her mouth and wasn't sure if I heard her right, "You thought it would be easier to find work during the holidays?"

"Yep, yum, um smack, You know you can get out to holiday parties and rub elbows with people that might be looking for favors and people to do projects." she informed me as she scratched her sweatpants covered butt with one hand and her other hand digging out another handful of red licorice. "Smack, slurb um ,yum."

"Can I ask you something?" I asked her. "I'm curious."

"Sure, yum, smack... What is it?" she looked me in the eye as a trail of a red stream worked itself down through a roll of her cheek to her awaiting triple chin.

"Do you think the needy people at your Christmas Gala" interrupted..

"Holiday Gala" she corrected me.

"Okay, holiday gala," corrected and trying to hang on to the point. "Do you think any of these people at your festivities tonight will hit you two up for a job?".

"Gawd! I hope not!!", she sighed and pushed another handful into her mulching machine.

You know I'm grateful for the escape.

Christmas/holiday ideas. If you are out this next couple of weeks shopping, eating and meeting with people and happen to notice a soldier in uniform stop and thank them and pick up the tab. The ideal is to pay for them at the counter without the seeing you and ask the person taking the money to not mention it to anyone or to mention who you were. If you know a family who has sacrificed with a member of their family in harms way let them you know you have them in your thoughts. Its worth it to them.

I'm sure many of you have heard this song and it has become one of my favorites of late. I love the message and the feeling the video gives me. I was raised a lot like the way this song implies.

I love a Parade

2005-12-10T22:34:00.000-08:00

The Mrs. Pirate and myself made it to the annual light parade in Salem tonight. Unlike the parades in the past it wasn't raining or snowing. It was cold as hell but beautiful. We had asked the kids if they wanted to go tonight but being teenagers why would they want to something normal people do.

I asked Mrs. Pirate if this is what it is like getting older. Still doing the things we thought the kids liked when they were little, without them. She laughed and thought I had a point.

I found myself volunteering the whole afternoon at a middle school for a basketball tournament and we didn't have any kids involved with any of the teams. In fact, I didn't see any kid or parent I knew. I just took a book I am reading, "The Shadow of the Wind", by Carlos Ruiz Zafon and minded my own busines and made sure no half- crazy parent beat the shit out of a referee. No incidents to report, just one heck of great book.

I sit at the laptop pounding out a post and rethinking something else I'm writing as Mrs. Pirate watches Christmas movies that we use to watch with the kids. The kids are all spending the night with someone else except for Jock. He is always in his room with a buddy or two "gaming", coming up for air and food every hour on the hour.

My blogger buddy Margaret Stargazer made a post on her blog about "neighborhood light wars" (my words) and it got me to thinking about the whole Chrsitmas decorating routine. Our neighborhood is bascally many families of similar wealth (or lack of it) kids all roughly the same age, but there are those who go completely out of their heads when it comes to the required voltage that is needed to express their reason for the season. I think it is kind of funny and in some ways neat. One neighbor has a ten foot "Snow globe" with Frosty and a few of his frozen buds standing in snow smiling out at the neighborhood. To top off the effect there is snow blowing around the inside of the globe. Gawdy but cool.

The Pirate lair went with replicas of the old type of bulbs. No fake icicles or anything special. We decided we wanted to look like the family in "A Christmas Story" so we went with the basics minus the leg lamp.

Thanks to all for the kind words of encouragement regarding my last post. I am strong and know God is in my corner but it always feels more assuring when others throw in their moral, spiritual and down right loving support.

Tonight I was standing watching the parade go by. Locally made floats, old muscle cars and motor bikes all decorated with lights, high school marching bands, local businesses being advertised, and a few local politicians march by and over heard a young man complaining to his mother about having to do this. Being the nosey Pirate that I am, I turned around and asked him if he'd like a better view? Then told him to always remember he can one day torture his own kids with this parade. And for a bonus always remember a parade is the only form of entertainment that I know of that is free. Little is asked of you but some of your time and an applaud or two.

Peace....