Category: Orphans

“Why is that guy behind the blinds taking my picture?”
Since about 8 o’clock this morning workers were removing a roof off the house outside my bedroom window. Presumably, they are removing the roof to replace it with a new roof. It’s a pretty common activity in my neighborhood and throughout most of Southeast Texas because of Hurricane Rita.

I don’t begrudge my neighbors a new roof. But s**t almighty roofing is one noisy activity. Between the pounding and shoveling of shingles machines are buzzing and guys are speaking en español about 10 decibels too loud.

The neighboring house, which actually is divided into two apartments, is a rather large structure so I don’t know how long it will take to place a roof down. Right now it is about eight hours after the workers started and they seem to have completely removed the roof. I guess I have at least another day or two of looking forward to this cacophony of irritating sounds. What can you do about it? Nothing. I suppose I am fortunate they aren’t building a large ship or something with a lot of loud metallic clamoring. The situation could be much worse indeed. But that doesn’t mean it’s a fun fest.

Carl Sandburg says get your cat’s feet out of the fog before election day.
When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for me to dissolve the saying that sits at the top of this blog, I do so by replacing that saying and retiring the old one. What? Did you think I was going to rewrite the Declaration of Independence?

The year “Ought-six” is almost upon us. It’s an election year. That’s a funny statement of course. When is there not an election year in this country? Whether the actual election takes place during a certain year makes no difference because someone — such as a congressional candidate — runs for office in perpetuity. What is different about 2006 from 2005 is actual elections will take place for Congress and state offices in Texas.

In a way I look forward to the prospect of spirited debate upon the many issues that face us in this country and state. On the other hand, the bulls**t which politicians spread as though they were growing vast planets of hay is sure to be thicker, more venal and of a greater volume than in the previous, non-election year. The politicians are literally going for the gold.

I have said before and I continue to believe that a better way of electing quality candidates to office must exist in some parallel universe. Instead of squandering all the money on running for office that could be going toward the betterment of our society; instead of the exponential employment of increasingly mean-spirited rhetoric used by rabid partisans; instead of shaking hands and kissing babies and petting show cows while singing show tunes; why not pick our office-holders in some way that doesn’t leave the citizen feeling as if they need to take a month-long shower? I will have to get back to you on just how that might be accomplished. In the meanwhile, I have this strange urge to whistle “Everything’s Coming Up Roses.”

If you don’t know me you might want to know what I look like. Or not. I could show you a picture but then I would sacrifice what little anonymity I have here. It’s not exactly like someone couldn’t put all the pieces together and figure out who I really am. Not that I am anyone of importance, great or otherwise. And of course, some who read this already know who I am.

So I thought I would post a picture of someone whom many people might know and with whom I have some semblance of resemblance. Dwight David Eisenhower. I look like Ike. I look so much like Ike that little old ladies come up to me and ask if I still wear that short-waisted Army jacket. Old guys ask me what my handicap is. I tell them my handicap is stupidity. They’re meaning golf I suppose. Ike liked playing golf.

I don’t know if I really look like President Eisenhower all that much. In profile I think I sometimes resemble Benito Mussolini. It’s a bald thing, don’t you know. I don’t know if I look like anyone famous at all. I’ve got a cleft chin like Kirk Douglas but I think the similarity with him starts and finishes there.

This morning I downloaded a new photo editing program. Maybe once I learn it I can do kind of a composite shot that has all the facial and cranial features I share with famous people. And maybe I won’t. It does sound like a whole lot of work just to come up with a photo of me that isn’t me. I think a glass of wine is a much better idea.

My friend Sarah and I had sliced turkey sandwiches for Christmas dinner at McFaddin Beach, just west of Sabine Pass. It was a beautiful day although it was a very windy feast as my first slice of Havarti went sailing for parts unknown.

We found this bucket while walking down the beach. I wonder if it belongs to Dick Cheney?

Charles the Christmas Tiger says: “Remember only you can prevent smoky bears.”
A few regular readers of this blog are long-time friends: Sally (what 30 years?) and Suzie (25 years). Just the fact that they have put up with me for that long are pure indicators of deep friendship. Anyway, I have already extended private Christmas wishes to those long-time friends.

I want to extend my holiday wishes to those new (mostly virtual but not all)friends who check in from time-to-time just to see what kind of bulls**t I’m spouting today. I really am grateful for StatCounter because it lets me see that people from all over the world sneak a peek at EFD. Why? I don’t know. I really don’t. Just in the last 24 hours I have had visitors from South Africa, Slovenia, United Kingdom, Portugal, Egypt and Canada, Oh Canada! To whomever that stops by, my best wishes for a great holiday season and a great 2006.

I also want to extend greetings to those who have linked me to their blogs: Nate at Common Sense, Karl from the UK who writes the cheerfully-named It’s All About Waiting to Die, and to Ben at The Benquirer. The Benquirer, by the way, is absolutely hilarious. It’s left-of-center satire and very, very funny.

With all this worldly love I’m sending out here I’m about to break out in a verse of the O’Jays “Love Train” and you certainly don’t want to hear me do that. So run along now, go and open your presents!