The Russian Rambo & The General

 A Russian General is reviewing the troops in Belarus. He approaches one fearsome looking soldier armed to the teeth with small arms, rifles, grenades - the whole lot.

He says to the soldier, "Sergeant, do you think you would be ready for battle after downing a shot of vodka?"

The well-armed Sergeant looks the General directly in the eye and replies sharply, "Yes Sir!"

"Well then", the General asks, "Do you think you would be ready for battle after downing 5 shots of vodka?"

The Sergeant again looks the General directly in the eye and says, "Of course - I'm here, aren't I?" 

Malicious Behavior On The Eastern Front

 Another control freak madman 

Threatening the world again

Going to make everybody fall in line

By hook or by crook or by tank

Old Houses In An Old Area Of Denver

    A few days ago a friend of mine asked if I'd be willing to help him with a few small package deliveries, as it was damn cold out (5 degrees f) and he didn't want to have to shut his van off every time he had to make a stop.

   As I was not engaged in anything I acquiesced and during the course of the day we toured a few of the older neighborhoods in the Denver metro area. Of course I took pictures, a lot of pictures - mostly of older small homes that had been kept up or jazzed up by their occupants.

                                                            The storage container house

                                                 The I wish I was closer to the ocean house

                                                      The modern Santa Fe reimagined house

                                                           The duo-dormer duplex house

                                                                    The rock house

                                      The Japanese archway with a Southwestern twist house

                                          The brick mason who knows what he's doing house

                                                 The contemporary adobe Pueblo house

                                              The grand Four-Square with pergola house

                                                   The Arizona sunset house (with flamingo)

                                                 The we-didn't have-enough-bricks house

                                               The Tudor Victorian mansion mash-up house

                                                     The white iron picket fence house

                                      The patterned concrete faced, stacked columns house 

                                         The subtle two-tone stucco & clapboard siding house

                                             

                  

Not Being Flippant, Just Curious

 Is it that every single human being on this planet (including yours truly) is oblivious to some aspect of their own behavior that is as annoying as all get out?

Or is it that every single human being on this planet (including yours truly) is capable of being annoyed by an aspect of anyone's behavior, no matter how innocuous

I know the answer to this on a personal level, as I do manage to annoy people just by being me - I have literally been told that a person has left a room simply because I had entered it - and I've been told that (or similar) on several occasions.

Now, I am not sure what aspect of my personality or appearance or behavior it was that caused those specific individuals to leave a place when I entered, but I have learned not to give it too much thought, as it's really none of my business what other people think of me - they are entitled to their thoughts just as much as I am.

And the opposite is also true - I have literally walked out of a room when I saw a person I just did not want to have to share the same air with, for what I believed were sound, rational reasons. 

Though I could have been wrong - my perceptions of who and what people really are have turned out to be erroneous on multiple occasions.

My point is this: What compels the aforementioned behaviors and reactions? Is it an innate defensive mechanism? Is it an experience-based filtration system we all develop as we age? Is it a lack of tolerance or acceptance that grows within us like a cancer, mutating into a dominating aspect of our world view due to lack of the ability to recognize it and learn to excise it before it takes control of us?

Or is simply that each and everyone of us has a little bit of a**hole in us that cannot be contained or modified in anyway, no matter how hard we try?

Don't Shoot Until You See The Whites Of Their Eyes!

   As most of the world probably knows, prior to the American Revolutionary war and the founding of the United States of America, the Puritans, English Protestants who didn't believe that the Church of England was doing enough to distance itself from the practices of the Roman Catholic Church, left England en masse for the recently discovered land of North America. 

   They settled an area that is now known as New England (an area that comprises the states of Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Maine, & Rhode Island) and first established Plymouth Colony, and then a few years later, the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

   What followed after the establishment of those colonies was nearly 130 years of war between the English colonists and their allies the Iroquois people, and the French colonists and their allies known as the Algonquians.

   Cliff notes, gotta love 'em.

   Those wars dramatically changed the way wars were fought then, and are fought now (crazy that wars still exist in this enlightened age, eh?).

   The big change can be summed up in two words: Guerilla warfare.

   See, for a few thousand years Armies fought each other by forming regimented columns and then basically charging into each other, which generally resulted in victory for the largest army, as the larger the group of men a country could put into action, the better the chances would be that they'd have the last man standing, and thus be victorious.

   History credits a British Major, one Robert Rogers, with being the first person to codify guerilla warfare. He fused tactics he had learned and/or developed serving in various Colonial militias since 1746 with tactics he observed being used by the tribes fighting one another (and how they fought for and against the French & British).

   When he was charged with putting together a light infantry unit that became known as Robert's Rangers in 1756, he set down on paper the following rules and procedures (Note, this is being written down verbatim - no attempt has been made to contemporize the language or correct the grammar):

1) Don't forget nothing.

2) Have your musket clean as a whistle, hatchet scoured, sixty rounds powder and ball, and be ready to march at a minute's warning.

3) When you're on the march, act the way you would if you was sneaking up on deer. See the enemy first.

4) Tell the truth about what you see and what you do. There is an army depending on us for correct information. You can lie all you please when you tell other folks about the Rangers, but don't never lie to a Ranger or officer.

5) Don't never take a chance you don't have to.

6) When we're on the march we march single file, far enough apart so one shot can't go through two men.

7) If we strike swamps, or soft ground, we spread out abreast, so it's hard to track us.

8) When we march, we keep moving till dark, so as to give the enemy the least possible chance at us.

9) When we camp, half the party stays awake while the other half sleeps.

10) If we take prisoners, we keep 'em separate till we have had time to examine them, so they can't cook up a story between 'em.

11) Don't ever march home the same way. Take a different route so you won't be ambushed.

12) No matter whether we travel in big parties or little ones, each party has to keep a scout 20 yards ahead, 20 yards on each flank and 20 yards in the rear, so the main body can't be surprised and wiped out.

13) Every night you'll be told where to meet if surrounded by a superior force.

14) Don't never sit down to eat without posting sentries.

15) Don't sleep beyond dawn. Dawn's when the French and Indian's attack.

16) Don't cross a river by a regular ford.

17) If somebody's trailing you, make a circle, come back on your own tracks, and ambush the folks who aim to ambush you. 

18) Don't stand up when the enemy's coming against you. Kneel down. Hide behind a tree.

19) Let the enemy come till he's almost close enough to touch. Then let him have it and jump out and finish him up with your hatchet.

 Modifications of those rules and guidelines have been made by various Ranger units over the years (Roberts himself expanded them to 28 Rules of Rangin' in 1759) and are still in use to this day. 

Charmed, I'm Sure

 

The Therapeutic Value Of A Sunday Morning Laugh

   Early one morning a Priest walks outside and discovers a dead donkey laying in the street in front of his church.

   Quickly recovering from the initial shock he walks back into the rectory and calls the city Animal Control department.

   Unfortunately, after speaking with an Animal Control officer he is told that the disposal of animal remains is not their responsibility, and that he should probably call the sanitation department.

   So the Priest calls the Department of Sanitation and explains that there is a dead beast of burden laying in the street in front of his church, and the representative replies that they do not handle animal remains. Perhaps, suggests the clerk, he should try calling the Zoo.

   Becoming a bit agitated, the Priest then calls the Zoo, whereupon he is told that the Zoo only deals with the animals in the Zoo, and is told that his best bet might be the Department of Public Safety.

   Frustrated, the Priest decides to call the Mayor at his home.

   The Mayor answers the phone and immediately the Priest launches into a tirade about the discovery of the dead ass laying in the street in front of the church and the phone calls he had made in an effort to get it removed and disposed of.

   Confused and a little irritated as the Priest rants on about the situation the Mayor interrupts him, stating, "Father O'Dell I can understand your frustration with the situation, but why are you calling me at my home about this? What do you expect me to do about it?

   "Do about it?" replies the Priest, "I don't expect you to do anything about it Mayor Williams. I'm just paying a courtesy call to the next of kin."

An Unsubstantial Vaguely Humanoid Shape Floating Down The Hall

   The irony did not escape the man formerly known as Jonathan Booth for a single second. There he sat, a man who had spent his entire adult life vociferously debunking each and every claim of the existence of an afterlife, heaven or hell, paranormal events, etc., made by anyone in (or out) of his circle of friends or acquaintances, having to deal with what could only be described as the ultimate pulling out of the rug underneath his feet.

   He thought about how often he would loudly, almost angrily, state that people who believed in any of that "superstitious tomfoolery" were an insult to the progress mankind had made since the dark ages, and most certainly a serious undermining of the credibility of whomever was making the assertion that there could be anything as preposterous as poltergeists, wraiths, spooks, demons, and so on.

   He looked at the papers in his hands once more. He could feel them, they had substance. He leafed through them, back to front and front to back, repeatedly. And he could read them - the printed words were standard English in an agreeable typeface, and the language used was simple and direct - not incomprehensible legalese like most of the fairly important documents he'd ever been given and told to read, initial, and sign. 

   The paperwork itself was the oddest he'd ever had to read, initial, and sign. Just grasping what he was doing was incredibly odd itself, but having to process documentation of it was beyond the keen. 

   But read, initial, and sign is exactly what he did with the paperwork required for his new name. 

   His new name was Phylex Plantindoe Towsuelos Twelve, and the reason he had been bestowed a new name was simply because those in charge of the afterlife (for lack of a better name) had early on realized that having a few thousand souls running around with the name "Mike Smith" or "Jonathan Booth" was not going to work for record keeping purposes, so a new, unique name was issued first thing after a soul showed up at the hereafter.

   Thus, amongst the souls that had entered into what he was told was stage 33 of his existence, he was now Phylex Plantindoe Towsuelos Twelve, which he wanted to shorten to P2T2, but he was told there already was a P2T2, so he was going to have to think of something else.

   There was a computer database available that he could use to plug in any shortened variation of his new name, and if a shortened version was found that was suitable, it would be registered to him and he would be able to use it.

   The clerk who had told him that had also stated (with a slight hint of sarcasm) that it would probably be a waste of time though, as the naming department had been around for billions of years naming billions of souls, so best to just get used to the name he had been issued as it was highly unlikely they would have skipped over anything shorter than Phylex Plantindoe Towsuelos Twelve.

   Sitting in the largest building he (and every other being who had experienced it) had ever been in had resulted in an understandable amount of confusion and no small amount if discomfort. There had to be millions of people here, all of them appearing to be just like he did - a vaguely recognizable version of what he once was, in what was referred to as stage 32 of his existence.

   However, it wasn't the scale of the building nor the millions of beings inside it with him that was confusing and uncomfortable. 

   What was confusing and uncomfortable was that he had instantly known where he was and why he was there the second he had made the transition from being behind the wheel of his car plowing through a guardrail and going over a cliff in stage 32 to being in front of a clerk handing him the paperwork for his new name in stage 33.

   Apparently, that was part and parcel of making the transition - that knowledge just instantaneously presented itself in one's consciousness.

   The clerk who had handed him the paperwork had been extremely friendly and efficient, explaining that, yes, what he was experiencing was actually happening, no point in questioning it, and yes, there was going to be a judgement of sorts handed down to him, but that would happen well after his intake was completed and he had settled into his new stage 33 existence.

   So he sat on what he could feel was a solid bench waiting with his new name paperwork in hand. He wasn't certain what he was waiting for, but he had been told that the bench was where he needed to sit and wait.

   The feeling that what he was experiencing was too fantastic to believe came and went with a quickness that surprised him. It was in his thoughts and then replaced instantly with the thought that of course it wasn't too fantastic to believe - it was existence as he now knew it, and that was that.

   He was beginning to like the way his thought process worked in stage 33. The disbelief or doubt about what was going on being replaced with confident assurance that it was exactly what was supposed to be going on was a relief.

   But then he thought that didn't explain why there would be anyone from stage 33 paying visits to people and places back in stage 32 - and instantly his mind was filled with the thought that there was certainly an explanation for that phenomena, and it would be made known to him in due time.

   Probably well after he was assigned a residence and given a new wardrobe though - because that was now made known to him as being what he was waiting for, a residence and a wardrobe. 

   The residence was needed because even in the afterlife one needed a place to rest, and the wardrobe was needed because even in the afterlife one was going to need pockets.

 

How To Write Thrilling Love Letters

 World War II era advert for a book just chock full of advice for those young lovers separated by the miles.

Complex Abstract Worldview Purview

 

The Spectacular Vernacular Used In Refencing The Scrimmage Of Overarching Significance That Determines The Foremost Victors Of The American Ellipsoidal Orb Passing & Running Sporting Match

 About the funniest, way off the-unintentionally-funny scale thing going on in the U.S. this time of year are all the substitute terms being used in reference to the Superior Bowl® by people and businesses that do not want to have to fork over a royalty payment to the legal entity that represents the highest level of professional American gridiron football, associated.

It's a bit comical to hear one of the talking heads not affiliated with the United States based league of gridiron football teams refer to this coming Sunday's sporting event as "the big game®" or "the big championship game®" or "the big season-ending championship game®" or some such variation.

However, the seriously funny references are the terms that are used by various advertisers or individuals that desire to be associated with that professional organization of oblong-shaped spheroid centered activity players forthcoming endgame.

Phrases such as "the ultimate full-contact football contest®", "the decisive determinizing duel®", "the conclusive pigskin playoff game®", or the "final conclusion of the professional football playoff tournament®" have been heard (someone got away with not only suggesting "final conclusion" as appropriate, but actually using it). 

I suggest that creating a bingo game using every term or phrase known to refer to this Sunday's "penultimate contestation for supremacy in the American professional heavily padded & helmeted football sporting event®" as the various squares would be a great, fun way to spend tomorrow afternoon watching the hours and hours of pre-game deification of the broadcast.

Except for phrases and terms that are the property of the NFL and are reserved for the private use of their audience, and may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without express written consent, of course.

Enveloped By A Strange & Curious Mist

 The obviously Greek-influenced decor of the Spanish Colonial Revival home lent itself an air of mystery and charm that could both scare and delight visitors. 

Mainly due to the bas-relief ornamentation about the place that featured figures from classical mythology such as Pan, Aphrodite, Hercules, Venus, etc., but carved with the likenesses of actors from 1950's era B-movie sci-fi, such as Faith Domergue, Robert Clarke, Yvette Vickers & Grant Williams.

Which wasn't the scary part, of course. The scary part was all the medieval torture devices, straight out of the Spanish Inquisition, that were incorporated into the lawn ornamentation.

Standing In The Winner's Circle

 

Fear Of Becoming Your Long Forgotten Friend From Third Grade

 Some people have a fear of turning into their parents.

Which, in many cases, is understandable. 

However, I do know a few people who would be well served if they were to turn into their parents, as their parents are smart, funny and very likeable people, something those few people are not.

I have no fear of adopting either of my parents quirks or habits, but oddly enough, at one time I had an irrational fear of turning into someone I knew in the third grade. His name was Richard Nelson, and he had a strange propensity for collecting smashed dead lizards.

Yeah, I didn't want anything to do with that, but for reasons beyond the keen, for awhile I was afraid I would become a smashed dead lizard collector too.

Poles Apart (And All The Dry Cold Inbetween)

The Twenty Third Guest Of The New Year

He walked in with a large pecan pie tucked under one arm and a two liter bottle of Diet Coke under the other.

"Merry New Year!" he proclaimed with a sober smile, "and may you never want for food, clothing or shelter in the year to come!"

"Or ever," I replied just as soberly. "What's with the pie and diet cola?"

"Whattaya mean? It's the traditional New Year celebration in these parts. A bite of pecan pie and a toast with diet soda."

That said, he placed the items on the small console table in the hallway, pulled a package of plastic shot glasses and another one of ridiculously tiny paper plates out from the bag that had been clutched in his right hand, the one that had the diet cola tucked under the crook of his arm, and proceeded to place two of the shot glasses and two of the paper plates next to each other.

He then peeled back the plastic covering the pie and proceeded to cut two small pieces from it with an orange plastic knife he had pulled out of a pocket inside his coat. He placed the bite-sized pieces on the plates, then took the bottle of diet cola and poured a small amount of the artificially sweetened  liquid into each of the shot glasses.

"To life, liberty, and the pursuit of hippiness," he said, while picking up the small piece of pie with his fingers. I followed suit and we made a simultaneous motion with our arms that was somewhat of a salute and a toast, and which ended with us both wolfing down our respective pieces of pecan pie in single bites. 

Then he reached for both of the plastic shot glasses and handed me one. "Salud, pesetas, y amore y tiempo para gozarlos." he stated as he raised his hand holding the tiny cup.

"Better late than never." I replied as we both repeated the salute/toast motion and downed the diet cola shots.

"Alright," he said as he gathered up the plastic cups and paper plates and made to hand them over. "Toss these for me, would you?" 

I took the refuse and watched as he gathered up everything he brought with him. "Gotta go," he stated, followed by "Have a few more stops to make, see you at work tomorrow."

With that he turned and walked out the door, humming a cheery tune as he left.

Man, That's Rascist!

 

A Quest Realized

 A lifetime of searching, of investigating lead after lead, of acting on hunches and relentlessly following up on reliable and not so reliable recommendations and referrals...has finally paid off.

The most delicious onion rings on the planet have been located.

Crunchy, not chewy, lightly breaded, not doughie...and they are made right here in the Denver metro area.

Jay's Grill & Bar on Washington & 78th.

JER drove MJM & I there this afternoon

Absolutely perfect onion rings. 

Absolutely

Perfect 

Onion rings

Burgers are first rate, too.

Suddenly, The Scheming Waitress Shoots The Corrupt Politician And Absconds With The Loot

   Every so often something happens in a person's life that upends the applecart to such a point that the only realistic reaction is not to attempt to put the cart upright again and salvage as many apples as possible, but to simply get rid of the applecart altogether and look for a new and hopefully better way to get the apples to market (one that is not so prone to tipping).

This is known in my world as a plot twist.

And in case you were not catching what I was dropping in the opening paragraph, the upended applecart bit is an allegory for an unexpected event in one's life.

Plot twist generally throw one off the track or realign completely one's perception of how the story is progressing.

Some people are good at picking up on foreshadowing and see a plot twist coming. They may not figure out exactly what the plot twist is going to be, but they know, or sense, that something is going to change the direction they expect the story to follow, and mentally prepare for it.

Those people are the ones that the rest of us always think have a good grip on things, or are on top of it.

Whatever "it" is.

Then there are the "I didn't see that coming" types.

For those folks, dealing with a plot twist means rereading a few of the previous chapters to try to figure out how they didn't see the plot twist coming, and also to ascertain what their new mindset should be in terms of dealing with specific characters or situations in the story.

Me, I am somewhere between the two types. I can usually pick up on obvious cues (Note: not "clues"; "cues") that a plot twist is on the horizon, but sometimes I'm not as sharp as I'd like to be and miss obvious red herrings until getting sideswiped. 

Which, by the way, is not a commentary on any relationship I've ever been in...though I suppose it could be interpreted that way.

But I, as usual, digress. Dealing with a plot twist at the moment, so will have to get back to the point later.