Hate Crimes

A “hate crime” classification is a bit silly to me.

Let’s assume I am about to kill a man I hate for whatever reason. Let’s assume I am straight, and the person I am about kill is gay.

If I kill this person and I get caught, the court will prosecute me based on the fact that he is dead, surrounding evidence, and the circumstances of the murder whether it was premeditated, second degree or manslaughter.

Either way the guy is dead and I am guilty of ending his life.

Let’s say seconds before I murdered this gay person I screamed, “You bad gay person, you!”, then I would be potentially guilty of murder and a hate crime. He is dead, I am a killer, and to top it off, I said something derogatory to this gay person making him feel bad just seconds before he died.

Now I have really done it. He is an insulted dead gay person and I am a hater and a murderer which is much worse than just a plain old every day murderer.

Either way he is still dead.

I don’t get it.

Trees, Leaves, and Holidays Produce Gas

Thanksgiving by far is the coolest of holidays as far as timing goes. It always falls on a Thursday and I like that. A Thursday Holiday basically trashes a respectful work week.

They’ll be football on Thursday, just like yesterday.

I’ll knock off Tuesday and basically my week is done until the following Monday and it will be guiltless.

I did change one holiday tradition this year and blew leaves yesterday rather than the Friday after Thanks giving.

The conditions are optimal for blowing leaves. We haven’t had much rain since April so the little buggers are light and crispy.

I rent this gigantic side discharge blower that will handle mountains of leaves. I start at the top, roof and gutters and work my way out.

I’ll push around two acres of leaves on the other six acres and let them rot. Yes this causes global warming but there is no escaping it. We just didn’t know it until Al Gore told us.

It’s kind of weird that all those leaves produced all that oxygen and sucked up all the CO2. Now the rotting leaves will suck up all the oxygen to rot and produce CO2 back into the air. Next year they’ll do it all over again. Sounds like a cycle to me.

I just though of this…maybe the leaves are giving off greenhouse gasses to stay warm this winter and next spring they will suck up greenhouse gasses to stay cool. Wow trees are smart.

Thoughts in the Yard

I thought about this stuff while I was blowing leaves and had to come in and write it down.

When I was a little kid it would make me so mad when someone told me to put on my thinking cap. I didn’t have a damn thinking cap and I knew there were no such thing; Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny, yes. Thinking cap, no, who were they kidding?

Same with a sweet pill, I knew there was no such thing. I would fake it for my mother but I know I was grouchy and in time I would become ungrouchy. Later they invented sweet pills called Prozac.

I used to have a pair of black Converse high top canvas sneakers that I would wear without socks. They made my feet stink so bad that my mother threw them away one day when I was at school.

I dreamed the other night that I found a wild cigar tree on my property and it was covered in stogies. The cigars were hanging like little pods and some of them already had bands on them. I was told to let them ripen some more and I would have some fine cigars.

Time to go out and blow some more leaves.

Start with Turkey and End with Chicken, KFC Style

This time of year people act very stupid about cooking a damn turkey. It couldn’t be simpler…just like cooking a giant chicken. Just look at the package and follow directions. It is even easier if you use one of those plastic browning bags.

You want simple stuffing? Try Stove Top. It takes a few minutes and no one will know any better. The same for gravy. Open a few jars and heat it up. You’ll be a hero and no one has to know.

We have enough browning bags to last for the next few years. Every year we buy a box and only use one.

I have recently met a person that doesn’t like cinnamon. She could be alone in the world. Everyone but this single person loves cinnamon. It like morphine of the taste buds.

I drove my Jeep to Durham yesterday to visit family and have an early Thanksgiving meal. You know you are traveling when you drive a Jeep Wrangler 3 hours each way. It’s loud, windy, cool and bumpy. I wore ears plugs most of the way. I guess this is the way our ancestors rode in their Model T’s. It was fun.

I had a good hearty laugh when I got home and read Michael’s response in my blog. He is too funny sometimes. I posted in Jive and he resounded in Jive.

I got a flu shot the other day. I get the flu about every three years and hope this will help. I was sick for two weeks last year. Plus they act like if you are a geezer over 50 then you’ll surely die from the flu. I’m 51. I once had a flu shot in the 1970’s and started having seizures. You can see why I have been hesitant since then.

I miss snorkeling very much. It is the perfect exercise and you never overheat. Plus the wildlife and formations you see are breathtaking. I made sure yesterday that my brother-in-law Tom had his snorkeling gear ready for St Croix. He forgot his goggles last year.

There was a real Col. Sanders and I saw him face to face once. I grew up in Durham, NC home to the famous “Rice Diet”. The Rice Diet would attract famous fatties of the day from all over. I was most impressed with the over indulged, chicken eating Col. Sanders, founder of Kentucky Fried Chicken. It’s called KFC now to make it sound healthier.

One day at the shopping center, (we didn’t have malls in the 1960’s) I saw the Col. in his white suit, snow white hair and his hyper tensioned red face with black glasses. My mouth flew open like I had just seen a living cartoon character and he smiled at me as we passed.

Let da damn Good Times Roll

Translated in Jive:

Dursday, Novemba' 15, 2007

Let da damn Good Times Roll

Gigi and ah' went t'Soudpo't, NC dree times in de past year. Ah be baaad... We had fo'gotsten how much we likesd da damn little coastal community. Slap mah fro!

De only place around t'accommodate our monsta' RV be an RV Park dat essentially caters t'full time RVers. Most uh dem do wo'k at da damn nearby nuclear plant. Man!

De couple dat runs de place keeps some tight ship. Jes hang loose, brud. De grounds is always well maintained and undesirables is not allowed.

On our last visit ah' ax'ed ha' to place us on some waitin' list so's dat we could park our unit waaay down dere and visit on de weekends. Today she called and said some slot gots'ta be jimmey fo' us in April uh 2008.

De mondly rate includes some concrete pad, power, booze and sewer, some picnic table and grounds keepin'. I’ll hook down de dish fo' TV and dig some local broadband connecshun.

So, we’ll gots some place at da damn beach until we decide oderwise.

We’ll plum hook down de RV when we wanna go t'oda' places likes Jekyll Island o' de mountains.

Da Beast

I dropped off the Jeep yesterday morning at the detailer to see if he could polish some live paint out of the old dull fellow. Here’s what it looked like when I picked it up at sunset.

Let the Good Times Roll

Gigi and I went to Southport, NC three times in the past year. We had forgotten how much we liked the little coastal community.

The only place around to accommodate our monster RV is an RV Park that essentially caters to full time RVers. Most of them do work at the nearby nuclear plant.

The couple that runs the place keeps a tight ship. The grounds are always well maintained and undesirables are not allowed.

On our last visit I asked her to place us on a waiting list so that we could park our unit down there and visit on the weekends. Today she called and said a slot will be open for us in April of 2008.

The monthly rate includes a concrete pad, power, water and sewer, a picnic table and grounds keeping. I’ll hook up the dish for TV and get a local broadband connection.

So, we’ll have a place at the beach until we decide otherwise.

We’ll just hook up the RV when we want to go to other places like Jekyll Island or the mountains.

A Water Break at Midnight

Its 12:30 AM. Gigi and I are sleeping deeply on the new memory foam mattress when the silence is broken by a long loud wookie groan.

I realize that Cedie is at the end of the bed and I hear Gigi pouring Cedie a cup of water. I’m thinking, “That sorry little shit” when suddenly I realize I am thirsty too. I grab a bottle of water from my night stand and take a big old gulp.

Then I hear Duke slopping up water like they are going to quit making it from a stainless bowl we have in the bedroom. Peaches follows with a big old lappy slurp.

Then I hear a stern voice from the corner, “Good night”, as Boscoe the parrot reminds us it is an ungodly hour.

We all drift back to a deep sleep all refreshed.

A Milestone

Get it? A Mile Stone? Two hundred and fifty thousand long miles. I have been along for the last 6,400 of them.

Top of the Morning to Ya

This afternoon or tomorrow I am going to visit with clerk 05 at the Midland, NC US Postal Service and present her with my papers to get a $117 refund. This should be easy since she mailed my stuff to the country of her choice, not mine.

The weather here was wonderfully warm yesterday. Oh for a few stolen moments of summer past and summers yet to come.

Our golf course opened yesterday for the first time in 4 months. During that outage they re-grassed the greens. They were beautiful and slick as a minnow with a runny nose. The place was crowded as a warm Saturday in May.

Gigi and I crashed last night and slept deeply. We needed the rest, both of us. Stress will wear you down in no time.

I haven’t been to work this week yet I have worked between other stuff. I swear I could work effectively virtually if I got the nerve. Heck I have done two Skype video conference calls in the past two days.

There are 78 days and change until I go on winter vacation. I miss the island. I had so much fun there in September and met lots of new people. I love asking folks how they ended up in St Croix. The story always starts by rolling their eyes and they say, “Well…”. You know it will be a whimsical tale you are about to hear.

Diesel here has spiked to $3.39 a gallon so I have mostly parked the truck for now. The Jeep gets better mileage and burns cheaper fuel at $2.99 a gallon. Plus it is fun to drive.

Sometime today my Jeep will hit 250,000 on the odometer. That is a lot of miles. It is a trip to the moon. It is 10 trips around the planet. I hope I remember to take a picture of the event.

Political Leanings, or I'm Right and You're Wrong

I have found over the years that I am attracted to friends with polar opposite political beliefs. I don’t do this to discuss politics, I hate discussing politics even with people that believe the same way I do. It’s useless babble much like talking about sports.

But I like politics and I like sports, I just don’t want to talk about it all the time.

Politically I am a conservative. Heck if you distilled my beliefs down I am a libertarian.

What is amazing as far is friendships go is I seem to pair up with liberal thinking yellow dog democrats. They are just the opposite of my political spectrum yet we have so much in common, other than the fact that they are wrong in their political thinking.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have my conservative thinking friends but I seem to enjoy being around the liberals more.

So my dear liberal friends, I enjoy your friendship immensely. Just remember, my vote cancels out yours.

We Lost Our Friend

"There's something about the outside of a horse...that's good for the inside of a man."

Words can’t express the sorrow Gigi and I feel right now. Sadness tempered with relief.

Last night about sunset Lady fell down on the path she had trodden for 18 years. She was headed to the barn get her supper.

We struggled to get her back on her feet but her body was too tired and she had finally lost her will.

Gigi covered her in quilts and I set up a light. We visited and talked to her for several hours.

Secretly we both hoped she would die in the night. She didn’t.

I called our vet and she came out and administered the medication. Lady passed very quickly and peacefully. As best we can figure she was 28 or 30 years old.

I called a man with a backhoe and I prepared her for burial. It was strange to see her lifeless body. Horses are always twitching and flicking their ears and tail.

The operator came in a few hours and dug her huge grave. He reverently picked her up with the bucket and set her in.

This day I have dreaded and now it is over. I have been assured by the vet that eventually the other two horses will stop whinnying and looking for her.

Bit by Bit

I bought some new U bolts in stainless last week to replace the rusted U bolts on my Jeep’s roof rack. Most likely nobody noticed the rusty bolts except me. Now they are all shiny and new looking.

Back in the spring I bought 4 newer Jeep wheels on Criag’s list. The wheels are stock upgrades on the newer Jeeps and they fit my Jeep. They look tons better than the old steel wheels that were on it.

It bothered me however that I only had four wheels and I didn’t have a matching spare. Normally this wouldn’t be a deal but on a Jeep you hang your spare tire prominently on the tailgate. It’s part of the Jeep thing.

Yesterday I found a single used wheel to match my set and got into a bidding war with two other Jeep enthusiasts. I won.

I can now mount a matching wheel and tire and remove the UNC wheel cover from the back of my Jeep. I have caught hell for that wheel cover.

Shiny, Happy Fenders

What do you do on a cool, windy morning in the fall? It is too windy to rake leaves.

Let’s see, abundant and cheap electricity, a heat gun and faded 18 year old Jeep fender flares, now that an idea.

The problem with the black plastic Jeep fender flares is they fade to a dark gray haze in a few years. You could paint them if the stuff would stick. All of the vinyl stuff like Armor All, baby oil, etc. just soaks in and turns back to faded black before your eyes.

I read on a Jeep forum where you could take a heat gun and rejuvenate the finish on these fenders many times. It beats replacing them at a cost of $125.

I gave it a try this morning and it seems to work. First I cleaned the fender with Windex to remove as much dead plastic as I could. Then I evenly heated the surface until the underlying plastic became shiny. I then cleaned it again and repeated the process.

Finally I gave it a good coating of Amour All and a final coat of WD 40.

They turned out great. I will see how long this lasts, but for now this is a good cosmetic fix and a money savor on the fix up.

I ordered my 2 inch lift kit this morning. This will raise the overall stance of the Jeep and is supposed to improve the handling. Plus it is another nice cosmetic touch.

Just Let It Die...Hell No!

Some things you just don’t ever let die. For Southerners raised in the 1960’s we are still truly pissed about being attacked by the North back in the 1860’s. I’m serious too. 100 years wasn’t enough time to get over this. I don’t think kids today give it a second thought.

Second, I may never get over the thrill of victory I experienced just this year of seeing my Appalachian State Mountaineers beat Michigan at the big house. I will always cherish that moment.

Third, personally I keep the embers burning for my disgust of the bitch at Duggan’s Reef in St Croix. This could be such a wonderful place without her. The food is fantastic and the view is second to none. But her consistent rudeness overrides everything and ruins the whole experience. I will go back when she dies or leaves the island for good.

[another customer writes: Rated by J. Stumpf on 02/02/07 Without reservations, the host was not happy to see us and not very polite. He managed to find an empty table, a real miracle since only 4 other tables were occupied. Seated in plastic chairs/ table, drink orders came in 10 min. 20 min after getting drinks and no servie, we paid our drink bill at the bar and left. It's obvious the staff is overwhelmed with 4 occupied tables.With a snooty attitude, don't enter unless a politician,celebrity, or famous. You will be treated like a second class citizen. AVOID this place if you're even looking for a mediocre dining experience ! This place is surviving on a past history when professionals were in charge of the operation. Watch out for holes in the parking lot that are big enough to swallow you car. You'll have better luck eating at the local Subway and guranteed better service!]

Fourth, I once won an argument with Time Warner cable and got a letter of apology from them. That was golden.

And now, I think clerk 05 of the Midland, NC US Postal service now holds a special place in my heart. She alone may be the most irrational and stupid person that I have ever met that holds a job that required screening and training. Her sole purpose in her chosen field is to accurately move packages to other places, yet she along overrode my written and verbal instruction and sent my package to her destination of choice. My hat is off to you gal, you hold a place in the Reggie Hall of Fame. Your story of stupidly will be told to countless people who will stand still for it.

Golf Friday

I played golf yesterday with a man that I swear looked like a Jack-o-Lantern.

This guy was nice as he could be and a good golfer but his skin was orange. He was missing every other tooth and his teeth were orange too.

He smoked 5 White Owl cigars and 4 cigarettes while we played 18 holes. He was no spring chicken either. I would guess he was in his late 70’s yet I never heard him cough.

He was a tough old buzzard and the tobacco is not going to get him young for sure.

Playing with a group of old farts reminds me why I continue to do cardio exercise. I was the youngster of the group physically even though one guy was younger than me in years. I noticed how they all were stiff and unsteady on their feet. I was the guy who would go down to the dry creek bed to recover a ball or do a quick dash in the woods to retrieve another.

That’s another thing. We were playing a best ball tournament. This means you take the best shot of all four players and hit again. Three shitty tee shots and one good one means one good tee shot for all because we all play from the best shot.

These guys would spend an exorbitant amount of time searching for lost balls. Balls are not the expensive part of the sport so I usually abandon my ball after a cursory look see. They acted like there were using hand made old feathery golf balls from the 1800’s when a ball might cost a days pay.

Anyway it was cold but a fun morning on the course.

Tuesday our club’s course reopens after being closed since July for re-grassing the greens. It is supposed to be 75 on Tuesday and I have a 12:30 tee time.

Geography 101 Meets Stupidity

Kids, it’s important to pay attention in school especially if you plan to serve the public.

Let me tell you a story now of stupidity gone wild, and how I went postal on the US Postal service today.

I’ll start at the beginning and give you the girl version of the story as best as I can since I am a man.

My dear friends in St Croix, Michael and Terry, asked me if I would forward a package to them via the US Postal Service that they were expecting from England. The package from England contained parts for their second Land Rover. The parts were critical to get the vehicle up and running. Right now it is just sitting in their driveway.

You see, domestic priority mail actually is more dependable to the USVI that FedEx or UPS. I would act as a middle man and reroute the package from an international shipment to a domestic shipment.

It made sense to ask me. I am on the East coast. I have enough sense to mail a package, it was a perfect match. Plus I was more than happy to help them. They have been so generous with their time for Gigi and me in the past. I considered it an honor to help.

One bright and cold morning the package arrived all the way from the mother land. I was excited. You know how much I like packages. This package had already traveled 4,000 miles and it was my turn to usher it on to the last 1851 miles to Christiansted.

The following morning I walked into the post office around 8:43:54 AM give or take a nana second and began talking to Clerk number 05. I told her that I needed to ship this package priority mail to the United States Virgin Islands.

This is the point where your previous “book learning” kicks in to differentiate between the US Virgin Islands and the British Virgin Islands. This would tell you it is a domestic shipment just like if I shipped a package to Alabama.

“No”, she said, “This is international and you must fill out a customs form.”

“Are you sure? This is the US just like Guam, Puerto Rico or South Carolina.”

“I’m sorry but you must fill out a customs form to the Virgin Islands.” She was insistent.

She stood over me while I filled in the domestic address, gave a description of the contents and checked whether I wanted the package to come back to me if they screwed up somehow in delivery.

“I will need a tracking number please.”

“We can’t do this for international shipments.”

“It’s not international it’s domestic”, I said.

“How long will it take to get there?”

“It should be there in three to five days.”

“Good.”

“That will be $84.”

“Shit!” I muttered.

I emailed Michael that the package was on its way.

Yesterday I got an email from Michael asking if I could check on the package from my end since they had not received it yet. Friday is Michaels day off and designated day to work on the Rover.

I pulled my receipts and noticed something strange. My instructions clearly indicated where to send the package but the idiot Clerk number 05 decided to send the package to another country, the British Virgin Islands.

Now I find it a bit ironic that the package came from England and now resides back in British territory.

I called the Midland, NC branch of the US Postal service and spoke to clerk number 05.

She said that there was no way to mail a package to the US Virgin Islands; it had to go to the British Virgin Islands. She explained that when she put Virgin Islands in her computer it came back with BVI.

“Even though I gave you a domestic address you shipped it to a foreign country?”

“Hold just a second please…[long wait] …yes, that’s right. We had to ship it to the British Virgin Islands. Everything else was grayed out on my computer.”

“Shouldn’t that have set off an alarm to you that you were shipping the package to the wrong country? This is not that hard.”

I could hear uproarious laughter in the background as the logistic geniuses were wrapping up their work day.

“Can you hold a second please,” she asked curtly.

A stern voice came on the line. “This is Janice, how can I help you?”

“Janice, you mailed my domestic package to a foreign country and I am trying to track it down.”

“What’s the tracking number?”

“You told me you don’t give a tracking number for a foreign shipment.”

“Oh, then there is no way we can track your package. It is somewhere in the Virgin Islands”

“Janice, this was to be shipped to a domestic address but you guys chose to ship it elsewhere. How in the hell can we resolve this? What about the customs number on the label?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. We can’t track it by that.”

“Janice, let’s assume we get the package back, can you then ship it to the US Virgin Islands?”

“No, the only option is BVI.”

“Janice, let’s look up the zip code on the address label. Where does that indicate the package should be delivered?”

Long pause…”Oh, I see. She didn’t look at the label. She just punched in the Virgin Islands and came back with the British Virgin Islands. I’m sorry.”

“EXACTLY! Now my package is lost in a foreign country because you were too stupid to look at the shipping label. Plus, I paid God on knows how much extra to send it to the wrong address? How much would it have cost to ship it domestically?”

“I don’t know, I would have to weigh it.”

“It weighed 19 pounds and 4 ounces or 9.9 kilos.”

“Oh I can’t figure that, I would have to put it on the scale to determine the cost.”

“You mean you can’t look up the cost?”

“No, the computer figures the postage from the actual weight.”

“Janice is there anything you can do or am I completely out of luck?”

“Well, we can hope they will send it back once they discover the error.”

“Hell, you didn’t know it was an error until I argued with two of you for 10 minutes! How are they going to figure it out? Just forget it.”

I hung up, threw the phone into the sheet tock and walked out of the office.

RV Stuff

Yesterday I dropped off the Monster RV for a few modifications that will make summer camping even more of a joy.

First we decided to install a second air conditioning unit. The bedroom upstairs would get a bit stuffy in the 90’s and the slot was already prewired for another AC. Plus this new unit has a heat strip too and that will be nice on cool nights. Now we will never be too hot or cold.

Second, I got a 110 plug installed in the basement so I can hook up my little refrigerator and TV while I sit outside and enjoy nature. (Watch football and drink beer)

Third, I got the unit hard wired with a transfer switch for my generator. Now I can ride down the road burning more fuel while the generator keeps the coach precooled for my final entry. Or we can just camp in comfort where there is no electricity.

Lastly and most importantly I sprung for a new brake controller. The old one was a piece of crap I have learned after enjoying this new one. The rig stops with ease.

Yabba Dabba Doo

I don’t know what I was thinking.

I had ribs on the brain yesterday after reading Jay Gray’s blog. It’s been years since I had indulged the barbaric meal but I brushed the urge aside.

I stopped by our club around 5 PM on the way home to check on any supper specials. Low and behold, ribs with baked beans, slaw and fries. I took this as a cosmic sign and ordered two suppers to go while I waited with a glass of wine.

On my way home Gigi called me all panicked that Lady was down. Damn, my ribs would have to wait.

I cleaned the stalls and instructed Gigi only to feed and we’ll eat dinner. She came back in tears that lady had injured her eye and she needed first aid. Damn, my ribs would have to wait again.

I made a big bucket of hot salty water and went up and cleaned her swollen eye while Gigi located some antibiotics.

Finally, 3 hours later I sat down to eat and I never stopped. I am usually one that will leave behind a generous portion out of habit. Not tonight. I ate everything in sight.

Fast forward to 2:20 AM and I am miserable. My belly was still actually swollen from supper. What a pig I thought. I felt like I was with child.

So, if you plan on meeting me for lunch, expect some light fare.

The Greek

Yesterday I dropped Peter an email to see how The Greek is coming along.

For the rest of you, Peter is a friend I met through Michael and Terry last winter down in St Croix. Sometime in the spring, Peter decided to open his own restaurant and named it The Pickled Greek. It is now referred to as The Greek and it has yet to open.

Peter is a master bartender, bull shitter, and general fun guy to be around. I know his new place will be fun and successful once it is open.

When I was down on the island in September I visited The Greek on many occasions. Normally you would see Peter and or Vinnie working away on some project. On many evenings the work would stop and a spontaneous party would break out lasting into the night.

I remembered that Peter had booked a party in early November so I speculated that the place should be open by now.

Down on the island deadlines are not concept that the locals are familiar with. Oh, some of them used to have deadlines when they lived on the mainland but these silly customs are soon dropped when you move to the VI. It’s my understanding from talking with Peter and Terry that the local government prohibits deadlines. Any project you attempt down there will never meet any conventional deadline that the rest of us are accustomed to and the government will see to this.

Peter emailed me back that he had the party last Saturday and he had over 100 guests. However the restaurant is not officially open.

Then, last night I dreamed I was there at The Greek. The place was painted a dark brown and it was hideous. The menu was painted on a wooden board. On the menu the only items were stuffed peppers and rum and coke. You could get a side of potatoes I think because it had a picture of a potato on the menu.

I was glad that was only a dream.