Category: Orphans

Apparently a crime took place at my small apartment complex last evening as a friend and I went out for dinner and a movie.

A bedroom window in the apartment facing South was smashed out in what neighbors said was an attempt to gain entrance. The apartment is empty. One neighbor said he got a good look at the suspected burglar, whom he said looked like the same guy who had a month or so earlier stopped by the apartment and was trying to open one of the mailboxes. That same neighbor said he made a report to the police about the attempted break-in.

Let me just say that I find this information somewhat dubious. It is obvious that the glass was broken and that the landlord had stopped by to cover the window until new glass could be installed. I don’t want to libel anyone, but I find the activity the neighbor reported as one of a growing string of bizarre incidents around this five-apartment complex.

These incidents have included a burglary and theft of a wallet from an automobile parked behind the apartments next door, as well the theft of a birthday card that I had intended to mail to a friend. I have a suspect and I will not disclose exactly where in the neighborhood this man lives, but I will say it’s too damn close to me. This man is a registered child molester who also has a lengthy rap sheet for auto burglary. Too many strange occurrences have taken place since this paroled felon moved in nearby.

I would like to give someone who did their time in the pen the benefit of the doubt, but I’m not really a big fan of child molesters or burglars. So I will continue to watch him and hope that if he slips up it will be from his propensity to steal rather than molest children. And will I drop a quarter on him should he falter? You bet your ass.

The lady in the photo is Frances E. Willard. Today is Frances E. Willard Day. Any questions?

I’m sure a big question you may have is just who is Frances E. Willard and why does she have her own day? From what quick research I was able to find on the Internet, Willard was most associated with the temperance movement. Also from what I gather, Frances E. Willard Day is supposed to be about personal temperance. It’s certainly something to which I will toast.

Willard was an early president of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, which was in the forefront of the movement to rid the U.S. of those liquid evil spirits. It took awhile, but the efforts of people like Willard and the old hatchet-wielding, bar-wrecking bat Carrie Nation, eventually prevailed upon ratification of the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution in 1919 which ushered in prohibition. The 21st Amendment was passed 14 years later, repealing prohibition, after Americans tired of drinking hair tonic and kerosene in their cocktails.

Prohibition was a noble experiment — in crime, corruption and being generally overzealous. So I shall hoist a glass later this evening to thee, old Frances E. Willard, you were one of the people who made Americans realize just how much they like to drink their alkie-hol.

Shall I go left or go right? Should I even go forward? Perhaps I should just stop. Or I could jump the tracks and go get a cold drink. But would they dock my pay? Would I be letting down the team? Would I be called a quitter? A cold drink really would be nice. However, I still will have the original choice to make when and if I return, which is whether to go left or go right. Damn choices! What’s that? You say they’re adding a third track straight ahead? EEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIII!

Harriet Miers as a young girl admiring the president. And Toto too.

Norm had an entertaining idea. No, not Norm from Cheers, Norm from the American Enterprise Institute. Maybe he was joking and maybe he wasn’t in his piece for Huff Po today in which he laid out this scenario: Cheney would resign as VP. GW would appoint GHW Bush as VP. GW would then resign. President GHW Bush would then appoint his new pal Bill Clinton. Entertaining? Yes. Reinventing the wheel? Yes. I don’t think that would be a very good idea at all.

Perhaps the time has come in our republic that we put our government on autopilot. We could dissolve all three branches and have this big Rube Goldberg-looking machine in the Oval Office. Perhaps it could even spit fire like the Wizard’s ruse.

The machine could be programmed with witty and insightful sayings. It would be right up the White House press corps’ alley. Every four years the country could decide whether we should keep the machine or put real people back into our government in order to totally screw up our lives. I’m talking about real conservatism here. The government that governs least? Why the machine wouldn’t govern at all.

Could a machine be any worse that our own band of misfits who run our federal government? I think not.

I survived a freakin’ hurricane and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.
No, I didn’t really get the T-shirt. I’m not sure about walking around advertising that I survived a disaster. On one hand, such a display has some merit. It’s like, no hurricane is going to bring ME down. But on the other hand, how does wearing the shirt give assurances that you really survived the hurricane as opposed to getting way the hell away to where you didn’t even feel the hurricane? Oh what the hell, I guess I ought to let people have their fun. I’m still not going to buy a T-shirt.

These guys are still around the mall. No hurricane could run them off. Now I don’t want to bore you with my medical history, but needless to say I have quite a plethora of issues with my neck and back. So you think I would let these guys do their magic for $12. Nope. I haven’t tried it, yet. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I can find all kinds of other ways to spend $12. Perhaps on digital photo editing lessons.

I’ve vowed to be on the lookout for bumper stickers — funny, stupid, ironic, moronic, etc. — these days. This one caught my eye in the mall parking lot. Of course, I would rather watch a Tom Cruise TV interview than be around the nervous chihuahua. I’m also sure that YOUR chihuahua is smart, relatively speaking, meaning relative to its brain size. Hey, it’s a little bitty dog. I suppose I just have this ungodly fear of having my ankles mauled by these little mutts. And you know, what good are your feet without your ankles? Huh?