Tag Archives: senior citizens

Protect our freedom by invading someone

Hi readers.  It’s time you younger readers hoisted your overalls up by the straps and increase the amount of geography the US owns.  You can easily tell we don’t have enough land, that the US needs more geography, by the screaming everyone’s doing about aliens.  The ones who don’t have PHDs and Asian surnames, I mean.

In 1849 our troops protected our freedom by invading Mexico, and Mexico does have a lot of ground with nothing on it but Mexicans, so that’s a possibility.  Last time we protected our freedom by invading Mexico we got California, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada and maybe some other places.

But there are also some Indian reservations with nothing much but Indians on them.  The only way we’re ever going to protect our freedom from those Indians is to invade the reservations and put them up for real estate development.  There’s some good hunting and fishing country in some of those, along with potential for ski slopes and other tourism.  Gambling casinos.

But Canada’s also a place been threatening our freedom too long and it has plenty of real estate with nothing on it but Canadians.  If we ever expect to solidify our security with Alaska we need the Pacific Northwestern Canada real estate.  And for all practical purposes it’s empty.  Nobody much from the US lives there at the moment, which is one hell of a provocation.

The truth is though, we’re never going to feel safe invading Guatemala until we’ve got our freedoms protected in Mexico.  We need International Boundaries that connect to places connected to somewhere else where there’s more growth potential.

We acquired Puerto Rico protecting our freedom in the Spanish American War, but what the hell did we get for protecting our freedom during WWI?  Guam?  How’d we get Hawaii?  I’m trying to remember which freedom it was we were protecting when we got the US Virgin Islands, and US Samoa.

Fact is, the US has really dropped the ball.  US veterans of WWII hardly gained us any real estate at all to savor our freedoms in.  And we lost our freedom in Vietnam and North Korea.  And all the freedom our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan protected didn’t gain one inch of new territory with nothing on it except Arabs.

Sheeze.  It’s fairly clear we need to be protecting our freedoms closer to home.  Starting with those damned tribal lands nobody’s been able to build condominiums on.  Finish the job on the damned Indians before having a closer look at Canada and Mexico and the freedoms we need to protect involving them.

Old Jules

Back in the game

hydrox june 2014

Hi readers.  Mr. Hydrox explained something for me I’d been wondering about a longish while.

Hydrox:  Meeeeeoooooww. Meeeeeoooooww. Meeeeeoooooww.

Me: Jeeze Hydrox.  Ain’t it a bit late for this crap?  Something bothering you?

Hydrox:  No.  I just got to thinking about things.  Missing Niaid.  All those Y2K chickens and that cabin.  Mehitabel.  Tabby and that mountain place we used to live.  All I’ve got now is this other cat here, Shiva.  You.  And that woman who lives here with Shiva.

Me:  Well you do have that.  You’ve got to live for the moment.

Hydrox: I’m not asking for any of that cheap tripe philosopy.  You asked why I was weeping aloud and I told you.

Me:  I’m glad you did, amigo.  I was afraid you were getting sick again.

Hydrox:  So where’s that woman who lives here?  I haven’t seen her for a couple of days?

Me:  She’s off somewhere else, Hydrox.  It’s just you, Shiva and me for the next couple of weeks.

 Hydrox:  So I can meoooow as much as I want and nobody’s going to be kept awake?

Me:  I’ll sleep right through it.  You know that.  And who cares what Shiva thinks?  She used to be a good cow cat, earned her keep.  Nowadays she’s worthless.  I don’t know why Jeanne keeps her around.

Hydrox:  Yeah, but I’m glad she’s here anyway.  This place almost echoes.  I’d go crazy if there weren’t at least one more cat around.

Me:  You’ve got it then, amigo.  I’ll keep feeding her so long as the food holds out.  Maybe Jeanne will pick up some more when she gets back.

Old Jules

 

 

Audie Murphy, Cuba and a meaner baby face than Baby Face Nelson

Hi readers.  Most of you are too young to remember who Audie Murphy was.  Who he was was a killer the likes of which most wars don’t have the violent potential to produce.  Baby Face Murphy lodged himself on a burning tank with a machine gun and proceeded to mow down close-up and personal more Germans than is possible.  Armed and dangerous Germans.

Well, hell.  That got him the Congressional Medal of Honor because nobody wanted to have him come home carrying any grudges against anyone back here.  Made him a movie star and he stayed one until his death sometime in the 70s.  Free basing cocaine I think it was, and caught fire.  But that might have been someone else.  Maybe Ricky Nelson.

The Gun Runners 1958NR82 minutes A down-on-his luck charter boat captain is ensnared in the deadly machinations of a wily American who is smuggling illegal arms to Cuban rebels. More Info  Starring: Audie Murphy, Eddie Albert Director: Don Siegel

Anyway, most of you probably don’t remember that Cuba used to be a place where a Carib dictator named Batista did what Carib dictators do.  Did it enough worse than Papa Doc Duvallier to cause the US public to cheer the revolutionary splinters operating in the jungles.  Including one carrying the name Fidel Castro

Anyway, streaming on Netflix is the full version of Audie Murphy and wossname, the guy who played Marcus Welby, and a lot of Goldiloxes all getting into a lot of trouble between Key West and Havana.

Poor Baby Face Murphy.  Life was easier for him when he was just shooting a machine gun from atop a burning tank.  Wasn’t as dangerous as free-basing cocaine, either.  Or whatever it was got him dead.

Old Jules

 

Maybe to some it was a terrible tragedy. To others likely it was a blessing

Hi readers.  Wil pointed out in a comment that the guy in the White House mightn’t have known yet whether a plane went down when he made his might be a terrible tragedy statement.  I’ve been re-thinking the post and I hope Wil is wrong.

Maybe Wossname, the guy in the White House was demonstrating an uncharacteristic, Zen-like wisdom.  Maybe he was trying to exert some of the world leadership thing presidents are occasionally accused of, albeit wrongly accused.

Fact is, that airplane actually mightn’t be a terrible tragedy because someone the CIA or such had on a list of suspects of being terrorists.  In which case everyone else on the airplane was just part of the price of fighting terrorism.  Maybe the prez didn’t want to stick his foot in his mouth and be forever harangued about it until all the authorities went over the passenger list carefully.

It’s an ill wind that blows no good, any way you cut it.  While it’s tempting to think Wossname wanted to make certain someone he’d personally like to see dead was on the plane, or that someone he had to make a public display NOT being glad as hell, the crash was certainly a secret blessing to some peoople.

People can accurately be described as a pain in the ass to other people.  All of us.  If one of the passengers was the guy next door to someone and had a dog that barked all night, he neighbor would consider the prez a fool, or a liar if Wossname proclaimed it a terrible tragedy.  And so on 295 times.  Plus or minus the airline crew.  Lots of people collecting flight insurance, losing troublesome mothers-in-law, competing people on the career trail, it all reduces the equation when attempting to determine whether there was a whiff of good in the ill wind.

And Wossname!, the guy in the White House, might have recognized this!

Maybe.

In any case, we might as well be ecstatic because now we can make up our own minds whether anyone on the airplane needed killing more than the rest of the people aboard needed to keep living.

Old Jules

Prosthetic flagpole after-market extensions for that permanent half-mast look – Half-mast inflation

the forbidden door

Hi readers.  Jeanne and I pulled into the parking lot of the Olathe Community Center prepared to do serious battle with exercise machines.  But my focus was distracted by the half-mast status of the flag.

“Why’s the flag at half-mast?”  Me, trying to think of how many living ex-presidents might have kicked.

“I dunno.  I guess someone died or got killed somewhere.”  She didn’t pause from gathering her water bottle and unbuckling her seat belt.  “Maybe someone in Iraq or somewhere.”  She shrugged.  “Half-mast inflation.”

They seem to do that a lot in Kansas.  Running the flag up to half-staff as frequently as possible on the safe assumption somebody died.  But I suppose that’s everywhere.  When I was in Texas and only got to town every couple of weeks I noticed they held off dyings of important Americans to coordinate their half-staff flag-flyings with me being in town.

But it probably began a lot earlier.  Hell, it got in style when Elvis Presley died, I think.  Damned flags all over the country celebrating the day the music died.  Bye, bye Miss American Pie.

There are only, what?  365 days sometimes, and either 364 or 366 other years, and so damned many important people.  Finding some days when the flag flies from the top of the pole is going to leave someone who ought to have a half-pole lying dead with a full masted flag.  Not properly recognized.

The obvious solution is to retrofit extensions on all the damned flagpoles across our great nation so’s the default position is half-staff and there’s no option of insulting any deserving half-staffers.

Considering how many important people we lose every year to drug overdoses, suicides and downsizing there aren’t a lot of options.  Although they’ve got a Commemorative US Postage Stamp of Jimi Hendrix, I noticed.

But even having a postage stamp with your picture on it becomes inflationary.  Next thing you know they’ll be naming cars after the Killed In Actions [KIA] and changing street names every time a two-bit politician or a button pushing drone-jockey in Afghanistan falls off a bar stool and offs himself.

Old Jules

Getting rid of weevils in oatmeal and flour – rediscovering the past

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

I want to share something I’ve discovered with those of you who cook:

Have you notice that when you bring flour, oatmeal or corn meal home it frequently has weevils already in it?  Do you find it disgusting, annoying, irritating?

Well, here are a couple of things you can do.  First off, put the bag of grain product into the freezer a few days as soon as you get home.  That will keep them from reproducing, eating more of your flour or whatever.

But once you take it back out there’ll be a lot of little bug carcasses dotting things.  Your grandmother would have sifted those out before using the grain product.  Her grandmother would have shrugged, if she noticed them at all, and ignored their existence.

So depending on which generation of grandmothers you want to emulate, you might try one of those methods.  Or you can do what I do to make those dead bugs vanish in a heartbeat.

Flax seed.  Every time you use flour, oatmeal or cornmeal for anything, toss in a tablespoon full or hand full of flax seed.  All those dead or alive weevils will vanish.  I don’t know whether the flax seed eats them, dissolves them, or waves a magic wand and sends them to an alternate reality.

But what’s strange about it is the fact that flax seeds themselves resemble tiny roaches.  Or bugs of some other kind.  Maybe that’s what they are, predatory little bugs going around eating weevil carcasses.

Maybe grandma’s grandma knew that, maybe that’s what she did, too.  A lost old wives tale.

And here I am rediscovering it by modern science.

Old Jules

Being alive puts things into a whole different light

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

Those of you who’ve read here a while probably remember when I did my dramatic exit scene from Texas.  Middle of the damned coldest winter in memory, hopped in that RV trying to beat death to Kansas.  Two cats freezing and scared, me pushing things to a razor edge because I was determined to die somewhere the felines would have a home when I kicked.

Made it as far as one of those north Texas towns above Dallas, checked into a motel to croak.  And Jeanne’s sons dropped what they were doing and came down to drive me the rest of the way.

I had every reason to believe one of a couple of unhappy body parts was going on strike and planned to kill me.  The VA in Texas tried hard to avoid giving me the bad news by not examining me, but I sneaked past them into a private emergency room.  Old Gale hauled me to town when I was in bad enough shape to agree to it.  Took care of the cats while the Kerrville hospital made faces at one another every time they got the results of another test.

So I had every reason to believe my goozle was an ugly cancerous disaster, funny como se llamas on my lungs, but that those couldn’t get to me fast enough to kill me.  My ticker was going to do that honor.

So when I arrived in Oz and checked into the Olathe Medical Center through the Emergency Room I figured there was a middling chance I wouldn’t be coming back out with the amount of alive I had when I checked in.

But the cats were taken care of.  Every time a sawbones wanted to look at something else going ugly or stinking on my old jalopy of a body, I said okay.  And afterward he, or she would come around looking somber, suggesting we have a better look and by the way, I hate to tell you this, etc.

But I’ve digressed.  My point I want to make to you is that nobody anywhere along the program was saying, “On the off chance you don’t croak this is going to cost one hell of a lot of money.  Let’s discuss whether you could pay it in your wildest, most optimistic dreams.”

Hell, I’m a Social Security pensioneer.  Whatever medical care I get is through the VA, or Medicare paying the bills that have any reasonable hope of getting paid.  There’s copays, and I had a vague awareness of the fact it exists, but hell, I was having conversations with the grim reaper.  I wasn’t worrying about bill collectors.

And seemingly neither was anyone else.  Sons of bitches thought I as dying, every swinging Richard of them.  Maybe if they thought there was any hope I wouldn’t someone would have sat down with me and said, “Uh, you know, if you die you’re going to be okay.  But if you don’t, we’ve got people over in accounting who are going to try to make the REST of your life challenging.  Maybe you thought you had it bad before you came in here, but dying’s just a way to escape the accounts receivable people down the hall.  People do it all the time.”

Okay.  This defibrillator and the VA paying for physical therapy did a lot, and I believe, my home remedy herbal cancer killer took care of the goozle and lungs.  For a while it still appeared the damned ticker could still croak me, but it gradually slid down on the job.  Every physical therapy session I came away feeling better physically, and suspecting the financial world had some dark clouds looming on the horizon.  Lucky the national debt already admitted nobody gives a damn about paying debts anyway.

Well friends and neighbors, barring any unforeskinned circumcisions I won’t be seeing anymore doctors for a year.  They’ve got this ticker surveillance device hooked to me, reports to them all the time, and I’m down there three times a week on walking machines and sitting down peddler things, putting all this crap behind me.

And the bean counters are scratching their heads, dunning me and fretting over the phone about how I’m going to pay those copays that didn’t make any difference so long as I was exiting the vehicle.  Every month they get their $10 checks, and the big ones rack up a charge to neutralize that in the form of a penalty because it wasn’t enough.

And threatening to turn it over to the Roccos.

Sheeze!  I was needing a new adventure.  Aside from some help from a few good friends, I haven’t had any personal debt since Y2K.  If I didn’t have money I didn’t spend it, no matter what.  Sometimes they turned off the electricity, and it stayed turned off until I got enough money to turn it back on.

I suppose this could be called the cost of living.  I can send them $10 per month, they can call that $10 and raise, until nature can find some other way of wiping me off the Monopoly board.

But damn it’s good being alive.

Old Jules

 

 

Low sodium / no sodium Saimin

Hi readers.  My occasional yearning for saimin [ en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saimin ] experienced a hiccup when the various sawbones convinced me I needed to be serious about sodium if I wanted to keep making a nuisance of myself.

The other ingredients aren’t a problem, but finding a low sodium, easy to prepare broth is.  I tried using the onion ice cubes and it almost worked, but not quite.  Onion ice cubes, jalapeno ice cubes

But there’s an auction near here every Saturday, and everything that doesn’t sell goes out into the parking area to be sifted through by anyone who wants it before they haul it away to the dump.  I occasionally find things I want there because Jeanne’s been a frequenter and trafficker of auction castaways for a number of years.

Saturday I hit the jackpot.  A brand new, unopened box of Herb Ox NO SODUM chicken bouillon broth.  I never knew such a thing existed.  Never thought it might enough to search for it.

So when I arrived back at Jeanne’s I immediately used one package to test as a cup of bouillon hot drink and it was great.

Yesterday I used one of those onion ice cubes, a package of Herb Ox NO SODIUM bouillon as the base for my first post-discovery saimin.  Everything added was sodium free, or only had naturally systemic sodium.

I used bean sprouts, thin wheat noodles, shredded cabbage and carrots, mushrooms, some corn off-the-cob, and various seasonings.

Tasted precisely as saimin ought to taste, which varies.

Old Jules

 

The best and the worst

A significant percentage of US voters believe Ronald Reagan was the best president in US history.  Despite Iran/Contra, arms for hostages, and trickle-down economics.  History is not the long-suite among high school graduates in the United States.

A significant percentage of US voters believe Ronald Reagan was the best president in US history. Despite Iran/Contra, arms for hostages, and trickle-down economics. History is not the long-suite among high school graduates in the United States.

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

Yahoo News conducted a poll of +-1400 voters and asked who was the worst president in US history.  The results were that 33% believe the guy in the White House now is the worst.  28% believe the guy who was in there before him was the worst.

The pollsters used subtle methods for determining what percentage of the voters believing the guy in there now is the worst did so because he was black.  They concluded +-5% simply could not stand the thought of a black man serving in the White House except as a shoe-shine boy.

Which leaves the question among non-racist voters precisely equal:  56% of US voters believe one of the last two US presidents was the worst in US history.  28% Bush, 28% wossname.

All of which should raise some alarming questions in the minds of everyone else.  When did they quit teaching children US history in school?

Sheeze! The freaking Civil Freaking WAR was fought during the watch of one US president!  Two were impeached!  One was responsible for the Trail of Tears and moving the aboriginal tribes east of the Mississippi the-hell anywhere west of the Mississippi and stealing their farms, barns, equipment, animals, crops for white people.  Even though those Cherokees and some other tribes were already doing their best to BE white people.  Hell, a few years later they even had a Cherokee general commanding troops during the Civil War.  Chreeeeeist!  They even owned slaves!  What the hell do you have to do to be civilized?

Then there’s Lyndon Johnson, faked the Gulf of Tonkin Incident and used it to justify carpet bombing of North Vietnam, had South Vietnam President Diem assassinated by the CIA, and did the Great Society.

There’s John freaking Kennedy, son of a damned bootlegging smuggling NAZI supporter during the pre-WWII years.  Responsible for the Bay of Pigs, among other fiascos.

Hells bells, there’s Clinton for Christs sakes.  Got a blowjob in the Oval Office.  No Jennifer Oneal, her, either.  Shot up Ruby Ridge, murdered a couple-score Branch Davidians outside Wacoi, and smuggled huge amounts of coke and crack into Arkansas on CIA aircraft.  Got almost impeached because of shady real estate deals he and the little woman were up to their asses in.

These two guys now and just before him are pikers.  Except where deficit spending and fruitless military adventures are concerned.  These two couldn’t find their asses with flashlights when it comes to real corruption.

Old Jules

“Barbie Goes Native” sparks reevaluation of US Military posture

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

The 1970s, pre-US military adventures in Iraq and Afghanistan movie, Caravans, has come to the attention of US military planners.  Careful study of the overwhelming success beautiful actress, Jennifer Oneal, had influencing primitive tribesmen to behave themselves suggests new avenues of approach to US militarism.

Caravans 1978PG 125 minutes, An American diplomat is tasked with retrieving a famous politician’s daughter, who is married to an Iranian colonel but has run off with a rebel leader. More Info Starring: Anthony Quinn, Michael Sarrazin Director: James Fargo
 
During past military adventures,” White House spokesmen declared, “The US had never put women into combat-like roles.  It was believed doing so would undermine the claims that wars were motivated by the need to protect moms, wives, sisters and potential girl friends from the evil forces of the enemy.”
 
But, he explained, today women occupy active roles in a wide range of combat positions and while the Draft statutes have not yet been amended to include women, modern warfare justifies doing so.
 
“Jennifer Oneal was married nine times during her years as an actress.  In Caravans she enjoyed huge influence among primitive Moslems.  Today a few women of the Jennifer Oneal variety might replace the entire US military presence in Afghaistan. 
 
“Female porn stars could probably serve the same real-life function today as Jennifer Oneal with her stunning blue eyes, blonde hair, and nine husbands did back in the 1970s, and the cost would not be prohibitive.
 
“Changing the outdated US conscription statutes to include beautiful females, particularly porn stars, might well be the key to shrinking US military involvement, in most foreign countries. “
 
A major general  in the Pentagon who wished to remain anonymous agrees.   “War has simply become too costly to allow it to be pursued by traditional means.  Drafting female porn stars to replace both male and females in combat, secretarial, and other position would greatly reduce costs and boost morale.”
 
Jennifer Oneal’s performance in Caravans was not considered particularly impressive when the movie arrived in theaters of the 1970s.  It was not nominated for Academy, nor any other awards. 
 
But history has proved them wrong. 
 
The NSA is now monitoring all online pornography sites with a view to voluntary recruitment pending the needed reevaluation of US Draft Law to determine whether it can be interpreted to allow conscription of beautiful females.
 
Old Jules