tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80214687595539920812024-03-12T17:37:26.213-07:00Mind of MookieWrongly executing the right ideas to a more perfect world in my own mindMookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.comBlogger283125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-68471456373599642142018-12-13T08:21:00.001-08:002018-12-13T08:21:52.599-08:00The Great Hunt of 2018My much diminished blogging has me posting my first blog of the year when the year is almost over.<br />
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Another first in my life occurred over the last week. I went hunting for deer. I had never before had a hunting license, much less gone out with the intention of killing some creature for meat.<br />
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Earlier this year my brother- and sister-in-law purchased some land down in southern Iowa, and for weeks he had told me I need to go get my license and a tag and come deer hunting with him. I was already intending to take some time off for a family Christmas which just happened to coincide with the first half of the 2nd shotgun season here in Iowa. The family gathering was cancelled for a variety of reasons, so it worked out well that I could go with him.<br />
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My first Great Hunt....or as I have learned this years tagline should be, "5 days of bonding, freezing my ass off, and no meat or trophy to show for it."<br />
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Day 1 was very exciting, partially due to this being a brand new experience for me, but also because that is the day we saw plenty of deer. Unfortunately for us the big push that came our way managed to pass through far enough away from our position for us to get a clean shot. A little while later, my brother-in-law went to move the truck up towards the gate from the bottom of the property when luck struck. I was positioned near the southeast corner of the property and witnessed our first fortune. As he pulled up close, a young button buck invaded the property from the west. Mr. Buttons, as we called him, froze up. Phil, however, did not. He popped from the truck, grab his gun and level it out over the opened door. At this point I had not seen the deer just inside the fence line. I followed the direction of his pointed gun and saw the deer standing there just staring at him. Then I heard the Boom and no more deer. A shout of "Woo-Hoo!" came from Phil. Mere hours into our first day, and we were doing well. Phil with his newest pal pictured below:<br />
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Day 2 found only 1 deer on the property, literally as it was jumping the fence to leave, and about 100 yards out, mooning Phil as she left.<br />
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Day 3, I went out on my own to some public hunting land near the metro. Any other time of the year I could look out there and see plenty. I think they had been spooked over the past couple weeks of hunting and saw none.<br />
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Day 4, back to the property. Only 1 buck and a couple of does seen, none of them on the property.<br />
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I kicked myself for giving in to the cold. Had I waited another 10 to 15 minutes, that buck would literally have presented himself to me as a gift. If only I would've just listened to my Uncle George's words of hunker down in one spot and wait to see if a deer or the end of the day comes first. I never did listen too well, and have a tendency to be impatient. This time it bit me in the ass. I have spent the last couple weeks watching friends and family posting pictures from successful hunts, and I wanted so badly to be able to do the same. I HATE, and I mean absolutely hate, not being successful at something the first time out. I didn't care if I got some massive trophy buck or some small doe, I just wanted something worth taking a picture of while being able to fill my freezer with meat. Obviously, the arcade game Big Buck Hunter, where they present me with prey to shoot, is clearly more my speed, and completely different from the realities of being out in the countryside waiting on targets to come through.<br />
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I have received wishes of luck, reminders not to shoot myself or anyone else (especially my brother-in-law), and a few requests for deer meat from people who clearly had more faith in my hunting abilities than reality has shown. I was told a few times not to get discouraged if I don't shoot anything. I am frustrated, to say the least, and not looking forward to going back to work without having killed something. Discouraged, however, I am not. I intend to go out hunting again (and maybe listen to advice a little better), and hopefully have better outings where I will get to show off pictures of my own.<br />
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<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-39238699804172233692017-08-20T10:17:00.001-07:002017-08-20T10:17:18.899-07:00A Warped Sense of RealitySometimes I see things posted to social media and all I can do is shake my head. Sometimes I see an entire string of posts by one person and see that they share all these platitudes that seem to shed light on their personality and how they think. And then, I realize I know this person or people and see that every time they post these things they are the EXACT opposite of how things are.<br />
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Today I saw this post shared by someone I know, and if that person really believes this as pertaining to their situation they really have a warped sense of reality.<br />
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This year I've opened my home up to others, usually to keep the peace with others in the family, with the idea of helping these people regain a foothold in their lives and get back to taking care of themselves and their immediate family. 3 times I have done this, and 3 times I have failed to accomplish this mission. Maybe it was my fault? <br />
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Maybe I failed to realize that an expectation of standards and behavior should not be asked of people who come to live with you. And if they are family then this should definitely be overlooked and all actions by the other party, no matter how detrimental to themselves or their hosts, should be void of consequences. After all, they paid a paltry sum for rent/food, and being adults, or at least nearly of such an age, they should be allowed to act how they want, say what they want, and it should not be considered any of my business. After all I am merely the homeowner who is paying out far more for their needs than they contribute for. I keep the considerations low so that people might be able to have a shot at saving up their money towards embarking on a life of their own.<br />
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With one couple, they ran roughshod over us, and pretty much every family member to whom they appealed for help. They burned bridges as they moved from one to the next. Even so, they wanted to go back to where they called home....and yet despite better uses for a few hundred dollars, we bought them the bus tickets to go live their lives elsewhere.<br />
In a matter of weeks they showed back up, with no money and no real plans. I let them live their gypsy lifestyle for a couple weeks, making sure the hardships and disappointments of homelessness sank in really deep. I made the mistake of assuming the lesson had been unforgettably learned. We took the time to get a financial plan and a plan for finishing at least their high school educations at the same time. They got to enjoy the comforts of a shower, a regular bed to sleep on....things we sometimes take for granted.<br />
It worked for awhile....for what gigs a guy with no form of ID can get. Cash paying jobs, so at least he was trying. She stayed at home while we tried to get her mother to help get her forms of ID so she can get a job and register in school.<br />
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Everyday, and I mean literally EVERY. DAMN. DAY. They could be heard arguing and fighting like people half their young age. As is my style, I listened, but did not interfere, to let them figure out their differences. After all they are so much 'in love'. Much in the way I see how being 'in love' was taught them by one of their sets of parents.<br />
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Eventually, while away for my son's graduation from Basic Training, I learned of my car being stolen right out of my driveway. This is a bit new to me. I'm a very blessed individual in that i can leave my car running in the ghetto and disappear without it getting touched before I come back. Apparently some family who you sacrifice for, aren't quite as smart as those complete strangers who know not to take my ride. When confronted about taking the car by my wife and the implications of joyriding without a license, attitude was given. When the idea of being grounded came about, this 17 year old teenager threatened to move out. Wrong answer to be giving my wife. Leaving our house because you don't want to follow the rules and believe you shouldn't suffer consequences of illegal acts of wrong doing is no skin off our back. In fact it only serves to make life easier for us.<br />
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Fast forward 2 days....I come home from work and am trying to relax for a bit and I hear them fighting. AGAIN. Then I hear the boy state his intentions to leave all the bullshit because it isn't healthy, so he will leave her and move out. At this point i feel the need to intercede. I make sure he understands that given their first foray here being disastrous, that if he decides he is packing up and moving on, there is no coming back. I give him 30 minutes to ponder this and make sure he is very clear in his understanding of what's going to happen. He chooses to leave anyways. I'm left trying to console a crying girl, who hours later is begging me to let him come back, that he didn't mean any of it and was just angry. Naturally at this point I have to let her know that I'm a man of my word and if I just back off every decision I make then my word is essentially worthless and that I can be a simple pushover to the whims of children. So NO, he made his decision and had plenty of time to reason it through before he left. While wear e having this discussion the boy managed to come in through my back door into the house from which he has been told not to return.<br />
At this point I have to question his mental capacity and make him aware that if I lived in some other neighborhood he might have found himself face to face with a double barrel shotgun. Luckily for him i already knew it was him who walked in the back door.<br />
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Apparently not kowtowing to the demands of the girl and sending him back out of my house was just completely unreasonable on my part. So much so that if he wasn't allowed back then she was going to leave with him. Again I made sure she understood the ramifications of her actions. I was met with statements about how "he has been there for me when others weren't". Apparently she forgot all the time, money and stress spent by multiple members of the family over the last 6 months or so. I guess since we are family, our loyalty, forgiveness and compassion come at a much cheaper rate that that of someone she hasn't known for very many years and shows no signs of progressing into a responsible adult anytime soon. I do hope, for both their sakes, that this changes very very very soon.<br />
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For now they are apparently back to living in a tent on the other side of town. Its sad, but when I was young I was taught that for every choice you make there are rewards or consequences. And one day when you become an adult and move out you can do whatever you want, but you will be responsible for and held accountable to those decisions. I hope they realize in their late teens that they are no different from the rest of us in that their decisions can affect them. I really do hope they figure out how to become productive people. Doing so would put them light years ahead of their parental units, in my opinion. They just wont be figuring out that lesson within my home.<br />
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Back to the quote above, I'm sure stories will be told about how oppressive we were and how we kicked them out. Already heard about that last one being told by one of the girls parents after she chose to move out to chase her true love, also an unproductive member of society, ignoring the needs of their kids and failing to take any responsibility for themselves. But if they want to look at the reality of the situation:<br />
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Your family didn't turn their backs on you, you pushed away their love, help and guidance and turned your back on family as you walked out the door on your own volition.Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-17591179746037717552017-01-23T11:09:00.002-08:002017-01-23T11:09:42.398-08:00An Election, A Crowd (or not), and MarchesSo, as a country, we elected Donald Trump as President. And by we, I mean both those who voted and those who did not. As reported, a large percentage of eligible voters chose not to take to the polls and voice their opinion on who they believe should be president of these United States of America. Like a lot of people I too was cynical about the duopoly's appointed candidates. So my response was to vote for another person altogether. And no, I did not write my own name in, despite years ago making the remark that this would be the first election I was eligible as a candidate, and thusly would take the outsiders' track by storm to win the White House. After internal polls had me at a strong showing of possible double digit support nationally (and by that I mean total votes, not percentage of), I elected to forgo the process of self nomination (I know, a surprise even to my own ego!) and vote for someone else who was actually running and listed on the ballot (although Bacon was a tempting choice for a write-in candidate).<br />
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Now I have heard from people on both sides that by voting a 3rd party candidate was merely the same as voting for the candidate they opposed. That I wasted my vote, spitting in the very face of my civic duty and privilege to vote. Of course I believe otherwise. I believe if you vote for whom you would like to have as your president then your vote counts. If you vote for a candidate merely because you don't like another on the ballot, that my friends is what I call a wasted vote. That section of the ballot is a vote to AFFIRM your choice. If you wish to actively deny a vote, that's the section farther down where you find yourself choosing whether or not to retain any of the 4 billion judges most of you have never even heard of that work in one level of jurisprudence or another that oversees your particular county, state, or region.<br />
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Anyways, I digress...we elected Donald Trump. President. Of the United States of America. Yes to the chagrin on many. Yes, I too am shaking my head at this revelation. There are many who openly state he is not their president. Now I feel the freedom to express yourself is your natural right as a human, whether you are a citizen of this country or not. But I am left wondering, if this guy is not your president, then you must not be a citizen of this country. And I wonder why so many of you non-citizens are all over the streets of this country and on social media proclaiming how he isn't your president. Plain and simple, like it or not, if you are a citizen of the United States of America, for better or worse, Donald Trump is in fact your president, and will be for the next 4 years, or less if impeached or through resignation, or more if he somehow gets re-elected. Short of moving out of the country and renouncing your citizenship, the fact that he is your president is an indisputable fact of your life for the time being. Now, unlike some others, I'm not going to tell you to "get over it, and move on". If you don't like his policies, by all means voice your dissenting opinions, form groups to lobby an opposition, march, whatever it is you want to do, go out and do it.<br />
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Now, maybe this is far too radical an idea, but maybe try these things with a little civility. All the labeling, the name calling, the violent acts against persons and property... merely the tools of fools. And yes, before you try to point fingers I have called some of you pinko commie bastards. As a joke, never serious. except that one person. You know who you are. I jest. I have to use humor. I write any of my serious blogs in portions, then stop for a bit and have a two, sometimes three-sided joke fest with myself because I need a little levity to break up the seriousness, before re-starting. And it shows. My writing style is very much ADHD. Although I have never been diagnosed with such a disorder...probably because I'm too cheap to see a doctor who would bestow such an official diagnosis upon me. During the day of inauguration, we saw images from protests right there in Washington, D.C. Most members were peacefully assembling and exercising their rights. However you had a few nincompoops who hijacked some of these protests and committed acts of violence against persons, and property as well. <br />
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Now, while I abhor this violence, seeing a Starbucks get its windows smashed was a little humorous. I mean really, if you are going to go after a business, why not go after someone who is charging a lot of good money for, in my not so humble OPINION, a craptastic coffee-like drink. The Folgers or Maxwell House I brew at home, for far cheaper by the way, tastes much better. Hell if you want to pay for coffee, come to my place. If you bring your own mug I'll happily give you a massive discount. And even if you don't want to bring your own mug and want me to provide one for you, you'll save immensely over what you'll pay to stand in line at the Starbucks for their stuff. One caveat...you drink it black, or have an option of milk and/or sugar. No whipped cream, or any other fancy crap. You want bacon with that...the stove is 3 feet away, cook your own.<br />
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Okay on to the crowd issue. There has been much ado made over the size of the crowd at the Donald's inauguration versus that of Obama's. One side, supported by the media says the Great Orange One's audience was definitively smaller. The other side, and much touted by the new administration and their alternative facts, state unequivocally this is untrue. Photos taken at different times, attendees versus total viewing including the internet and tv, reality versus Trump's ego, or whatever other reasoning might be at play here seems to be dominating a good portion of my facebook page, talk shows, and the news itself.<br />
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On this issue, there are a couple things going on here. First, the media is literally playing Donald's game. Pointing out something to bruise his poor ego, letting him and his lackey's respond, and cue the back and forth. The more the media and the anti-Trump crowd keep it up, the more push back they get from the administration and all those who support him. Who's right? The better question that should be asked is Who Cares? Let's just keep the distractions up over such trivial meaningless things, so we don't have to look at real issues that might actually affect us as a people. For Fuck's Sake, its the real life equivalent to trolling on social media, without the need for social media. The media and liberals are butt hurt about Trump winning, and Trump and Company is all butt hurt by even the slightest slight. Maybe we should spend more time worrying about what is really leaving actual real life people across this land of ours hurt, and focus on finding solutions for those problems. I involve myself in pointless arguments all the time. Not because I want to trounce someone's feelings or alienate myself from the people around me, but for something to pass the time. Hell, it's practically a family tradition to argue over anything and everything. Partially for interaction, partially to understand each others' points of view and why we have them, and partially so we can sharpen our skills of Sophistry for when we decide to have a real argument. But to fill news feeds the world over with this pointless drivel is beyond me.<br />
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Now, the marches. All over the country, we saw these women's marches. My sister participated in one in her home state of Florida. I have friends that did so in Colorado, and some great family friends in California who also chose to participate in these marches. I applaud them all. Exercising your freedom to express yourself, be it solo or in massive groups such as these is your God given right, and specifically protected by our sacred Constitution. From what I've seen, these were all peaceful protests. To be honest, I haven't kept up on what exactly they were protesting. I should probably ask...maybe I'll be answered in the comments section without having to ask. Always a much easier route for me. I guess I see it more an extension of the anti-Trump protests, but what do I know? I was lucky to graduate high school much less have any real idea of what's going on around me.<br />
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One question I do have is this: If these marches were a protest for women's rights, what rights have been taken away from the women in our country? I suspect I'll get an earful for asking such a question. But then again, I like that, merely because it shows the free flow of thoughts and ideas. And please, give me YOUR thoughts. No hacked memes, no parroting the talking heads on TV. Just what YOU feel and believe.<br />
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So I'll leave it at that and just say...Your Turn to talk.<br />
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Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-86174277253837678332016-05-27T07:33:00.000-07:002016-05-27T07:33:03.567-07:00Laziness...Keeping me from posting for over a year!I just happened to look at my page today while screwing around on the home computer. I was shocked to see that it had been over a year since I even posted to here. The craziness of lazyness took hold of me.<br />
So for all 3 of you who ever read my musings I'll give you an update of what has happened in my life over the past 15 months since I last bored you to tears.<br />
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1) I bought a house. Now my wife will tell you that WE bought a house, but despite my religious zeal for Grammar Nazism, I reserve the right to interchange pronouns when it suits me. We'll just nevermind the fact that she may or may not have done most of the legwork when it came to dealing with banks and realtors to make this happen. As the landscape of American politics has shown, the facts don't really matter.<br />
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With the purchasing of my first home came a lot of other firsts. Like mowing my own lawn. I've mowed a few lawns in my day, but those lawns always belonged to someone else. I've also learned that if part of your lawn has Creeping Charlie and you mow over that stuff, it will spread to the rest of your yard. Much like I did to my parents' yard once I am contemplating a healthy dose of gasoline and a match to battle this scourge to my compound....only on purpose this time.<br />
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I've also installed my first ever section of wiring for a new dishwasher that had to be replaced because the warranty people wouldn't touch the old, less than up to modern standards wiring to hook it up. I've also installed 2 light fixtures for the first time, and one light switch. These things have taught me that I am handier than I thought I was, but still no engineering genius. Only a couple light jolts to the system to make sure my heart was still working properly. I also recently disconnected the DISH and reran the wiring to the antenna in an effort to save some money I was paying for a bunch of channels I never watch. I sure will miss those marathon days of That 70s Show on IFC and NCIS on USA. I'll get over it soon enough. I'll either addict myself to shows that were in syndication well before I was a twinkle in my dad's eye, or go back to reading more actual books like I used to do when I was younger.<br />
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The biggest realization that I've had, I've always known...This house is gonna suck me dry with all the improvements it will need. Recently a lot of people are saying the same thing with the new construction homes which are priced pretty damn well out of my price range to start and shabbily put up to boot in developments devoid of character or identity. I can't tell the difference between one house and the next 100 anymore. Very drab, very unoriginal, very...blah. This one was a steal for where we live, and it has character being an older home. So despite the next 30 or more years of trying to figure out which orifice I'm going to pull the money out of for these necessary improvements, I like my (yes I know, honey, OUR) choice.<br />
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2) I assumed the title of Operations Manager at my job. I assure you this is through no fault of my own, but the evil conniving mind of my boss who thought it was a good idea to put me in charge of people. After giving me some power to abuse he told me I better not fire a bunch of people I felt were substandard too quickly because I would end up having to cover their posts. Although I have had the pleasure of ridding the company of less than desirable employees from our little company, sometimes at the expense of my own sanity, reworking a schedule for a week to fill in the new openings can be hell. I can feel grey hairs trying to work their way into my normal appearance. I went from working day shift Monday through Friday, with nights and weekends free to spend with the family or go do something, to working nights and weekends again... which sucks! But money talks, and my wife and boss shoved me into taking the spot. All in all it isn't too horrible, but if the Lottery comes calling me saying I won big, I'm out of there!<br />
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3) I actually set myself up with some vacation time (that I will actually get paid for thanks to Item #2) that will allow me time to go see family out in California I haven't seen in over 18 years. My wife will get to meet some of my family she has yet to meet, my oldest son will see them again for the first time since he was 3, and my youngest son will get his first ever trip to California and meet that side of the family. I've been talking about going back for years, but my cousin Erin decided she liked a boy well enough to marry him, and forcing my hand to actually make the trip. Those guys at the TSA better not screw up my flight schedule!<br />
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Other random musings include that after I get back from the aforementioned vacation, I might possibly be looking at getting another dog. After almost a year of our Gracie having a boyfriend on each side, the renters have left their houses and now she has no boyfriends to cavort with. I think she is getting lonely and needs a playmate to help terrorize the cat, fight with for the attention of us humans residing here, and a companion to romp around the yard with and dominate like she did with the bigger boy toys (a Golden Retriever on one side and a Great Dane on the other) she enjoyed bullying before they moved away earlier this month.<br />
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The boys are getting bigger. The 17 year old is still lording over me, and recently started his first real job working as a host at a local Olive Garden restaurant. Much like I did when I had my first slew of jobs, but lived with my parents, he is seeing dollar signs and that excites him. I'm almost relishing the moment when he moves on and realizes how great it was to have the job with all the money rolling in and no real bills going out of anyone's wallets but his parents. And much like my dad, I will laugh heartily and tell him I have no sympathy... until he asks to move back in and eat all my food again. But first he has to get through his senior year of high school.<br />
The 12 year old, while not lording over me is slowly beginning to gain on me in height. He is at that awkward age where he is still a kid and cute, but beginning to display the obnoxious behavior that comes with a junior high kid, which he will be this fall. Not like when we were kids and were perfect angels throughout our upbringing, bringing great amounts of pride to our parents and the joy they received when being able to tell all their friends what wonderful kids we were to raise. (You can stop laughing now mom and dad!) Whenever he has gone to someone else's place he always returns and they gush over what a polite young man he is, and what fun it is to have him in their home. And within a half hour I find open bottles of his beverages sitting about in random places, candy wrappers strewn around the house, crumbs denoting that "Corwyn was here". When asked to do something, snide remarks are heard, dirty looks given, or just plain silence of ignoring us abound. Apparently his daily allotment of goodness doesn't last a whole day. <br />
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I love these boys with all my heart and would never trade them in for the world, but some days I would consider selling them to any bidder!!! A thought that I know would never have crossed the minds of my parents...again, I was an angel. I'm sure they got their other-than-angelic ways from their mother. And I'm sure she'd disagree and say its the opposite, but hey, this is my blog.<br />
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On the last note for today, For those of you in and around Sac City, On Saturday May 28th, there is a scheduled planting of a memorial tree for Monte Burns at Tolan Field. As some of you know, Monte passed just a little over 2 years ago. Monte was like a second father to me, and his sons, Joshua, Jedidiah and Jerimiah were my brothers. They will be dedicating this tree in their father's name, along with my parents for Monte, specifically at the ballfield where he put in years of coaching the kids of Sac City's Little League teams. So if you knew Monte, or he coached you or one of your kids, I know the family would love to see you come out for this celebration of Monte Burns' life.<br />
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<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-19133465768148010452015-01-19T19:30:00.000-08:002015-01-19T19:37:21.394-08:00Little Town SurvivingWhen I was growing up in Sac City, Iowa...<br />
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1) There was nothing to do...EVER<br />
2) I gotta get out...as soon as humanly possible!<br />
3) Add 1 and 2 together and EVERYTHING HERE SUCKS!<br />
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Of course these were the thoughts of a young kid who just assumed the rest of the world had to be better than what we had growing up. Guess that whole "grass always being greener on the other side" business starts at an early age.<br />
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When I was really little we had a movie theater in which I saw half a movie before mom dragged me out screaming and crying. In my defense, if she had just kept feeding me junior mints, I would've been good for the whole showing of Bambi.<br />
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We had a corner bakery, where if we were really good and mom had some extra cash, my sister and I could get some delicious cookies. Or mom had extra cash and shoving cookies into our faces was the best way to get us to shut up.<br />
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I wasn't very old when both of these places went away, so there was literally nothing left to enjoy in our small, and getting smaller, town. Sure we had the parade and the 4th of July fireworks, Chautauqua Days, and we had the Porktoberfest, and Halloween. So there were a few days out of the year where we could engorge ourselves full of one kind of food or another. But the other 300 and some odd days...nothing.<br />
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We had to entertain ourselves, either playing in the ravine, tearing around town on our bikes, swimming at the local pool, or playing football in Witte's yard. We had Little League and some other Summer Recreation programs. Eventually we got out own recreation center to go lift weights, play basketball, swim during the winter time, among other things.<br />
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Thinking back on things, I guess things didn't suck as bad as I once thought. For a small town we had a lot of things to do, whether it was on our own, or through programs and facilities that a lot of people put in hard work dedicated to giving us kids, as well as adults, things to do right there in our own little burg.<br />
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One of the places that always been a stalwart of the community for the most part under a few different owners, in the recreation area, was Indian Lanes, our local bowling alley. Now I only used the bowling alley sparingly. I was usually using most of my money to load myself up on Dr Pepper from the local Casey's, as if my hyperactive self wasn't already too much for some people to handle before the caffeine infusion. But it was always a place where adults could go and have their adult fun with friends, and still bring their kids who could play arcade style games, or you know, bowl a few frames.<br />
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I was recently back in Sac City for Christmas with my wife and my sons to see my parents as well as my sister's family who was up visiting from Florida. My best friend, Jed was also out with his family from Wyoming, along with his younger brother Jeremiah and his family coming up from my neck of the woods, to celebrate with the oldest brother Josh and his family. They did a family gift exchange at the bowling alley, which I had learned was now being operated by Josh and his wife, and I think along with a certain guy named Joe Zimmerman. I make the claim of Joe based on the fact that they have a Notre Dame flag hung up on a wall, and Joe is the only person I know who is truly a Notre Dame fan. Other than that small blemish (Sorry Joe!), the place looks pretty good.<br />
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Now Joe has always been the kind of guy who was made for small town living, and many days I can't blame him despite my living in the Des Moines metro area. I like to go back to my hometown just to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Joe did his time out of the area, but as expected he came back to his roots and his family and friends. Joe is always a friendly guy with a big goofy grin, a joke waiting on his lips to tell you, and a big old hug. I love the guy.<br />
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Josh Burns on the other hand... He was the big brother from another mother, the guy I loved to hate and hated to love. He was always there to put me in my place when I needed it, and also to pick me up when I needed that. He really is a chip off the old block that is his father, Monte, who I always regard as my 2nd dad. Monte always made time for us boys, and for everybody else, both personally, as well as being a longtime baseball coach for a multitude of kids who grew up in Sac City. Josh and I were never as close as Jed and I were, but he was always around. I never knew what his plans for life were, when he went off to college in Missouri, but he came back to live and work in the area. And now he runs the bowling alley. Like his dad, he's doing his part to help keep the small town of Sac City going.<br />
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Some people reading this may see Indian Lanes as just one business in a small town in the middle of nowhere. But to some of us who grew up there, it's nice to see that some places and some people are still there, just as they always were. And when you can find a place for the whole family to spend some fun time together for a few hours without breaking the bank, you want to keep that in any community. I think Indian Lanes fills that role. So if you get a chance, go to Indian Lanes, say hello to the owners, grab a bite to eat and something to drink, and bowl a few games. I promise you wont regret the fun time you'll have and you will support a locally owned business stick around for everyone there now and those to come.<br />
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Sac City, Iowa</div>
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(712) 662-7467</div>
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<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-28044899970866607352014-11-14T18:22:00.000-08:002014-11-14T18:22:08.608-08:00Scammers EVERYWHERE!!This year has been filled with scammers in my life. And no, I'm not just talking about my cat who comes up and acts like he loves me just so I'll pet his furry fucking body. And no, I'm not talking about Nigerian princes trying to unload their fortunes on me to protect them from evil governments and rebels of said governments. However, in my war against technology (and yes I realize I'm using the internet to post a blog against the evils of itself), the scammers have found more and more ways to get ahold of me.<br />
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I had someone offer me a job to wrap my car in advertisement for a nice little sum. It was for Bud Lite Lime. Now for those who know me, they know I'm cheap and will pimp out an endorsement for just about anything if you're willing to pay me. So a few days later, I get a certified letter in the mail from Drummond Corporation- which turns out to be a coal-related company in Alabama. Inside are two checks, both from Seminary colleges, one in Michigan and the other in Pennsylvania. The checks are literally identical in appearance, and amount. The only differences I find are the check numbers, the account numbers, and who they are from with their addresses. Even the damn signature is identical. One being a Puritanical Seminary and the other a more Evangelical type, I find it odd that they would hold with the same guy in charge of their finances, nevermind some Puritan organization pimping out alcohol. Why not just say the Puritans are asking em to enlarge my penis to have sex with busty married MILFs at bigcockbangers.com or some damn website that goes against everything they hold to be holy?<br />
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Once I received the checks, I was asked about them through text, and then to deposit the checks into my bank and forward a Western Union money order off to some lady in South Carolina, who is the party responsible for coming out to wrap my car in the advertisement. And the texter is using a California number. Now, maybe Americans are in fact getting dumber, and this wildly tangled web of shit is such a boondoggle that most wouldn't see through this whole charade, but I was brought up when education along with a healthy dose of common sense was instilled in a good portion of us kids early on. I had a nice back and forth with this lady and even gave her the confirmation number for a Western Union transaction. She said she was having problems tracking it. I had given her a 10 digit code, much like seen on googled pics of western union confirmations. I told her the tracking number corresponds to a phone number and she can call that number and confirm it for herself. I don't know if she ever tried it or not, but after I gave her the number to the FBI's switchboard, and I never heard a peep from her since.<br />
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On another level of scams, I have received calls from all over the country from Pretrial Intervention Services, or some other variation of a like name. It seems, unbeknownst to me, that I owe a check cashing place a LOT of money. Thousands of dollars even. I'm not entirely sure how they got my information, but they did have a healthy (or rather unhealthy) portion of some pretty specific financial and personal information. They knew who my debtor was, and how much I owed total, but they couldn't tell me the original transaction amount or any of that business. But despite their not knowing that, I was definitely in need of a lawyer, or I was going to need to settle up before this went to trial and ruined my social security (I'm not sure how they intend to ruin my social security yet, I figured that was a politician's job), and ruin my job! I informed one, that my current job already ruined me, and that it was already such a leech of a job that it couldn't possibly be ruined further.<br />
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The first thing that has intrigued me about these callers is that all of them have been Indian (the dot not the feather), or Pakistani or some other similar ethnic variety with a heavy accent. After literally dozens of calls from a variety of offices around the country, I have yet to run into one person on the other end of the line that has anything other than a very generic Americanized name, first and last names both. Some use celebrity names, mostly of some pretty famous athletes including Michael Jordan!!! Man, that guy was such a great basketball player, and been a pretty good businessman from most accounts. The economic collapse of 2007-08 must've really hit him hard. It seems it has caused him to genetically mutate into an Indian accented customer service representative in Ohio. I feel kind of bad for the poor guy. His finance manager really sucked! <br />
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Anyways, the this last week I keep missing calls from the San Francisco Bay Area. I take the time to listen to the voicemail. I was hoping to hear from someone in the 49ers or Giants organizations to let me know I was getting a portion of one of the stadiums named after me, and some other perks for being such a good fan over the years. No such luck in the end...it was some Indian lady leaving me a well read response to call back to discuss my legal troubles. Since I never bother to call back, they keep calling. The other day I managed to answer the phone. The lady (Her name happened to be Amanda Jones) wasn't so smooth in her delivery when she has to talk to me in person. I told her that despite my legal troubles, I still regard myself as important enough to be spoken to in a more professional manner. She told me to call back to her advisor's office at 415-513-0133, which just happened to be the same number she was calling from. I guess business is a little bad for them that she didn't have the kind of phone that allowed her to transfer the call to the advisor personally so I could clear these matters up. After missing yet another call while I was at work, I took a few moments to call back. I reached Sam Watershead. Sam also has an Indian accent. I guess Sanjay Gupta was too busy to make the call, so at least I know I was talking to a real down home American kind of businessman. <br />
It seems that despite the fact that they call me from San Francisco, my case is being filed in Los Angeles County. That is quite a few hours drive between the two. They had no reason why the debtor has NEVER bothered to contact me prior to such an important legal and financial matter would go to court, just that they had written the debt off as uncollected and warranting the spending of several thousands of dollars to haul me in for a judgement of a few thousand bucks. Now, I'm no lawyer, but we do have a law school up here in the fancy little town of Des Moines, Iowa, and I do happen to know a few finer points of law. For instance, in a civil judgement on a financial matter which had to have been contracted by me while residing here in the Des Moines area, they would be forced to go through my local Polk County sources, and that I would be served notice of any such impending court dates. Sam seemed impervious to this and asked if I had a lawyer ready to go. I said that I did not, mainly because Cash Advance America (my supposed debtor) wouldn't give me enough money to retain a lawyer, and that since I wasn't in any arrears I probably wouldn't need one anyways. He asked me how we would resolve this matter then if I wasn't prepared with a lawyer. When I asked if this was the part where I send him some money and he makes it all go away, he kind of hedged his bets. So, it appears that Sam Watershead (If that's his real name! His real name is probably Peggy), wasn't a COMPLETE moron when it comes to interstate banking fraud, but he was completely unaware that I was the kind of guy who can put on a lot of bullshit to make me sound a lot smarter about matters than he can ever hope to be. Guess I hadn't been toking enough of the marijuana joints and slobbering over my Cocoa Puffs enough to be taken in by his stupid ruse. In fact, I just kept belching out more and more information on legal matters, financial regulations, etc etc, he finally decided, after trying and failing to "calm me down", to hang up me. I felt pretty satisfied with my efforts. I'm nowhere near the creative phone comedian as say Tom Mabe, but I did alright.<br />
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And just for the record, I'd like all of my readers to call the above listed number in San Francisco and see if you can talk with Sam Watershead, or whatever his nom du jour may be that day. Let me know who you get to speak with and see if they might try to harangue you into court somewhere if you dont find a way to settle the matter ahead of time.Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-64166545944247907192014-11-04T18:12:00.000-08:002014-11-04T18:12:42.742-08:00So Now That I've Voted...My part in the 114th election cycle (or is it the 20th or the 847th?) is done. I would like to point out, that once again I did not see my name on the ballot. I didn't even vote for myself for any of the offices up for election.<br />
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Now some conspiracy theorists might suggest that this is a direct result of the biased Anti-Mook media machine making sure that my name didn't get out to the voting public, as well as airing commercials subliminally hypnotizing me into voting against myself. Some might say it was Islamic Jihadists trying to suppress freedom and the American Way (Which I clearly represent at all turns), or the Koch brothers spending billions in silencing my voice among the masses of their preferred candidates.<br />
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I assure you, that none of these scenarios are the case. Since the voting polls are still open, I will take this time to get out my political message, before going silent on the matter until at least Monday, when the next election cycle punditry shall start with all those talking heads on TV.<br />
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I chose to not run for any office this year because in 2016, it will be the first time in my life that I will be eligible to seek the office of the President of the United States of America. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soon to be renamed the Mookified Compound</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Because of the two year time crunch, I would not want to burden my supporters with the fact that I, as their chosen leader, would be forced to spend all the time I am supposed to be representing them out on the campaign trail. Also, If I were to end up in an office that the term would over run that time frame, I would not want to disappoint them by leaving my elected position to take over the bigger better opportunity.<br />
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So, in the off chance that too many of you numbskulls wrote me in as your candidate of choice, let me be clear. I am regretfully informing you that I am hereby conceding this year's elections. It was a non hard fought battle, but I have stepped aside from the path of all my many opponents. the more they wreck shit between now and then, the greater my accomplishments as leader of the free world, and eventually the universe (I'll be more specific on my plans for NASA at a later date) will seem.<br />
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"But what about getting some government experience before attempting to ascend to the Presidency?" you say. To this I answer: I will not be labeled a political/Washington insider. The only pork I want to be associated with supporting between now and then will be bacon. And bratwursts- lots of both.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kind of pork Washington DC needs!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />With your help in 2 years, I will see us through a new sense of economic prosperity to include greater investments in business as well as higher wages for many. A complete change in our foreign policy, and total reform of immigration. The budgets will be balanced, the national debts drawn down, infrastructure improved and other amazing things that will blow your minds. I'd put it down in writing, but by keeping it in my head, none of these idiots in Washington that are all about them and their parties taking credit for shit can steal it and destroy the perfection of the idea and screw 90% of the population, or more.<br />
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So consider today, the day you elect your representatives for this midterm election, the day I officially announce my candidacy for the next President of the United States. I'll accept your support in the form of PAC money, or just straight cash in hand. Thank you for not voting for me this time around, and good night my fellow Americans.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Be a freedom loving patriot- Vote Mookie in 2016!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-9360482305917024432014-10-13T17:00:00.002-07:002014-10-13T17:00:34.595-07:00Getting Old SucksSo, I've probably used this title before. But this time I mean it. For real this time. Seriously.<br />
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As I may or may not have mentioned before, I had some back pain a couple years ago. Went to the chiropractor, and the x-rays showed a nice interesting twist in my spine. Just one vertebrae in my lower back, was twisted left slightly and tilted. It pinches a nerve from time to time and causes a nice pain that travels along my pelvis and down into my right butt cheek. Pretty much a nice case of sciatica, going right along with that hip that pops in and out of place for most of my life. I'm sure its an even bigger deal than I make of it at any given moment when it hurts, but I just go with it as part of living. Although it did curb my going to the park and playing hardcore basketball and football with kids half my age. Figured I didn't want to ruin the rest of my back while I'm still just in my 30s. Now this hasn't stopped me from participating in some touch football from time to time with people of a variety of ages. I love football way too much to give it up.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I was coming back across the street with the dog, at full speed mind you while trying to unhook her leash for the rest of the run back to the house. Not paying full attention sometimes causes something to happen that forces you to pay attention. I slammed the big toe in my right foot directly into the curb and subsequently splatted my body out into the grass. I begin grasping my toe in pain, and realizing I literally split my shoe from its sole in the process. While it's nice to know the dog came back to check on me, I wasn't as amused with the fact that she took advantage of my pain and focus on my toe to start licking my face incessantly. It seems dogs are like mom's in that that think they can kiss the boo-boos away. I outgrew that understanding of pain management years ago. Anyways, that was a couple weeks ago. It is getting better, but there are still some moments of discomfort. I figure it will heal soon enough, and it doesn't really impede me from doing anything I wouldn't normally do.<br />
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Last Wednesday, I went outside after supper to play football with my 10 year old, his buddy and a neighbor kid. I had to tackle them, but all they had to do was touch me with two hands, since I am too big for them to tackle. Have to pretend to keep things fair at least. And of course, given my natural abilities and winning ways, I was well on my way to embarrassing them a little bit while I showed up. Then the youngest kid's buddy had to go home, and my 15 year old stepped in for him. Now for those that know my 15 year old, you know he isn't much for organized sports, but on occasion he will step in and play some. He is more into Parkour, bouncing and jumping and climbing whatever he can find. And while he probably isn't competition level yet, he is pretty good at it. I've seen him scale trees like a monkey and negotiate rock faces like a mountain goat. At 6 foot tall and 150 or 160 pounds he's wiry and pretty athletic. So with the boost of his big brother, the 10 year old starts showing a little flare, throwing good spiral passes to his brother who is clearly the tallest person in the yard, and almost as fast as me. One skill he has developed is good agility when it comes to cutting back and forth, to negate my speed and experience. He shook me more than once to get open and catch some well placed throws by his brother. <br />
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I was however very impressed by his concentration on one play in general. I played behind Josh (the 15 yr old) and when Corwyn (the 10 yr old) threw the ball to him, I broke in front to intercept or knock the ball down. However it was higher than I anticipated, just going over my fingertips, hitting his hands and going up in the air a bit higher. In the past this would've meant incomplete pass, but the boy made his dad (that's me!) very proud when he snagged it out of the air, and he stiff armed me off wrapping him up and turned up field running it in for a touchdown. In that moment I realized I wasn't the top dog anymore that could stop these kids at will anytime I wanted, only letting them score when I chose to let them. He honest to God outplayed me when I was confident I was going to take the ball (first) and then tackle him with ease (second). I was definitely put in my place on that particular play.<br />
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Later, Josh caught a pass in front of me. I had the boy dead to rights. Back when we were kids playing at the infamous Witte's Yard in Sac City, he would've been smeared to the ground. But, instead I was a good dad and decided against spearing him into the sidewalk and possibly the house. So I just wrapped him up, turned him and dropped my weight. I brought him down on top of me, and his bony little elbow hit me with his entire weight right between a couple of ribs. Now I've been speared, landed on, thrown to the ground, in the street, into thorny rose bushes, maybe a tree or two...and sometimes that shit hurt. But I have never felt the sting of getting my ribs bruised before. And here I sit, still sore, super stiff in the mornings when I get up. I'm just waiting the days and days it will take for the dull pain to subside, hoping he didn't actually crack a couple ribs. So far in life I've been pretty lucky that I've not broken any bones, and I'm kind of hoping that streak stays alive. Of course I'm not getting x-rays to confirm one way or the other. I'm just going to live with the pain while it's there and keep going like I do. However, I told the boy in no uncertain terms I am not playing tackle football this Wednesday when they come over for supper again, no matter how nice the weather might be. I MAY play touch, but I am still unsure on even doing that. Depends on how I feel I guess.<br />
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What scares me most is that I may have to finally retire from my super long career as a semi-pro football player in the Backyard Football League. I've stretched it to just a little under 30 years now, had my moments that created great on field memories. Not sure I'm ready, as a player and competitor, to let it go just yet and hang up my proverbial cleats, but maturity and old age coupled with increasing weird injuries from what seem like pretty non-violent actions may cause me to move on to operating strictly from a coaching perspective, and the occasional game of catch. I understand the struggle professional athletes looking down the barrel of retirement go through, even without their kind of money. Football is a game I've loved and lived most of my life.<br />
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But my legacy is my two boys. When Corwyn focuses, he can be a great thrower and a runner, as well as improving on his pass catching ability. Josh is proving to be quite the all-around athlete in his own right like his uncle Josh Burns, the retired great Backyard Football League player from our younger years, despite his lack of participation in the sports to the degree we did as kids at his age. They both make me quite proud as they grow up, even if they have teamed up to take me out of the game! I guess I can only hope we can do some light play together from time to time. Even if neither ever participate in football on an organized level or a regular basis, I'm always glad I have gotten to play the game with them some and have that bonding time with something other than video games, which I hopelessly suck at! My other hope is that maybe I can eventually get nominated into the Hall of Fame for my backyard football antics, like Josh Burns did.Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-76404456626139829992014-07-26T21:11:00.000-07:002014-07-26T21:11:22.001-07:00NO GAY SEX! (unless you have a LOT of cash to fork over)So here I am, sitting here at the computer wasting time on Facebook, and going back and forth looking at other pages. Along with Google, my spam mail is promising money left and right. Payday loans, bad credit loans worth more than I've ever had at any one time, free grants the government is just going to pay me to sit here on my ass.<br />
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So sure, I can definitely use more money. Not at 3500% interest or whatever, and I'm certainly not sending in $45 (normally $245, but I'm getting a special deal! they must know how awesome I am) to get my free information kit on how to make $1000s a day just like this guru with his fancy webpage and video of him driving nice cars. The whole thing on facebook of bill gates or some random ass lottery winner saying they will give you free money if you share the post and just ask for it...talk about a joke.<br />
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First off, Bill Gates isn't giving me money. Secondly, despite being part of the Giving Pledge thing a bunch of billionaires put together as their own little charitable club they belong to (I suspect mostly to make them feel better about themselves in a public relations sense), these guys aren't giving money away to regular people. They are looking at "legitimate" charities. I suspect they have a hand in running some of those charities to begin with, which is almost ridiculous if you ask me. That's more like a tax write off without actually losing a penny.<br />
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I tend to peruse the job ads from time to time, and I've found out hard work often pays less than everything else. A 16 year old ditz in high school speaking on the phone using a pre-written script to work from actually makes more money than most jobs I see where manual labor is actually involved for some guy just trying to support his family. And it's also amazing how many jobs now require a college education just to get some job that pays less than $30,000 a year! What the hell is THAT? Is the state of our public education system so bad that you need college just to get you closer to a simple wage that's high enough to pay the bills of a mediocre lifestyle? And what's with all the staffing companies? Every corporation out there is working with a bunch of $10-$15/hr workers who aren't really working FOR the company. Don't get me wrong, a lot of those people do great work, and for some that's the only way to get work. I guess it's better to float the CEO's pay when you underpay everyone and don't have to offer them perks...<br />
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Now, I don't have much in the way of job skills. I was the 16 year old ditz on the phone, I sided houses for awhile, I did security work, and I've worked in restaurants. None of which paid all that well. Sometimes I worked very hard at those jobs, but a lot of the time I kind of slacked off and just did what needed to be done without anything extra. Why? Because it didn't really matter much. Months of hard work resulted in me making no more than some guy who spent his entire day jerking off. Sometimes I made even less than those guys who didn't know their head from their ass, and I was picking up their slack. But it seemed my low wage was barely able to be afforded by the boss, so no raise for me or anyone else. Now don't mind me, I'm just venting, the entire point of this article isn't to complain, I just lost focus for a bit...and I'm too lazy to delete all that wasted effort.<br />
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These days I'm still trying to figure out how to make more money. A substantial amount to be exact, not just something to get me by for the next week or so. I'm talking about random ass jobs for good money. And I've decided I have VERY FEW caveats. You pick the job, task, etc- minus the caveats listed below- and we'll talk. <br />
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1) I will NOT kill anyone for cash (although I might maim someone for the right price- which also means you footing the lawyer fees). If you want me to be your killing dummy, we do the cash ahead of time of course so I can get the money to the wife and kids first. Then I'll be your huckleberry.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhYJqIa2Feh8TMxq0Vp15NN97bK9cHCMOhL2C3coLho97CRTvL1ig4Xay2tWDU-_ow6Fo5F0wnV2nNRqx02RQwuifnvMbzcr_gRTYsZQRNEbJ_UcT0JdaPGnLehed1mrM4RPsn0pnji0B/s1600/timthumb.php.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhYJqIa2Feh8TMxq0Vp15NN97bK9cHCMOhL2C3coLho97CRTvL1ig4Xay2tWDU-_ow6Fo5F0wnV2nNRqx02RQwuifnvMbzcr_gRTYsZQRNEbJ_UcT0JdaPGnLehed1mrM4RPsn0pnji0B/s320/timthumb.php.jpg" /></a></div><br />
2) I will NOT let a bull charge me and ram me right in the gonads...or take a baseball bat there. Plain and simple: no nut shots that could result in permanent damage!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDf8GIxxJFc-ASwGId8Q0LTTFOxRGReTHPTtk1AFaAsApzuJvU79RJ4dQ6DCJFl7YznOPyJRbr_dmPotcops3FrN720zpBuIizg-pTQsQjp7WFKsB4qUkmUexqO3VtHy_T-KwI7uDGUjC/s1600/jackass-3d_320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDf8GIxxJFc-ASwGId8Q0LTTFOxRGReTHPTtk1AFaAsApzuJvU79RJ4dQ6DCJFl7YznOPyJRbr_dmPotcops3FrN720zpBuIizg-pTQsQjp7WFKsB4qUkmUexqO3VtHy_T-KwI7uDGUjC/s320/jackass-3d_320.jpg" /></a></div>I mean c'mon, I'm pretty dumb, I'll admit that. But I'm not COMPLETELY insane!<br />
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3) NO GAY SEX (unless you're coming with something like a million bucks or more, I'm thinking closer to $10 million, but we can negotiate- AND that gets no publicity- save that for Dallas Cowboy fans)<br />
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Other than that I'm pretty much game. I'll drive you around town, do your shopping, you name it. You want your house demolished, re-drywalled or burned down, I'm your guy. You want me to clean your house in some odd looking outfit (or no outfit at all) while you videotape it? You're a special kind of odd, but I'll still do it! You want me to play a real life game of Frogger on the freeway, wrestle wild herds of feral cats, whatever your fetish might be, I'm your man. You tell me what game you want me to play, we'll discuss a price tag and then I'll do whatever it is you want for that price. Proof of funds are required and I get paid that day. Don't get me wrong, I still have every intention of continuing working a job, short of winning a big lottery I just want to raise about $100,000 so I can wipe my debts out and get a good down payment for a house. Although I would definitely take more money than that if the jobs just keep coming. Every man has his price, and I'm no different. It's all a matter of negotiation with me. I CAN be bought!<br />
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So pass this on to all your friends that actually have money they are willing to part with in order to be entertained by directing my antics and help me make some real friggin money.Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-4258108118122347042014-07-15T08:04:00.000-07:002014-07-15T08:04:26.861-07:00Evil Technology Rears Its Ugly Head Again!And so it begins again... brought to my attention by a certain infamous radio personality, Eric Stone:<br />
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<a href="http://www.kcrg.com/subject/news/truck-driver-blames-bad-gps-directions-for-driving-on-heritage-trail-20140714">http://www.kcrg.com/subject/news/truck-driver-blames-bad-gps-directions-for-driving-on-heritage-trail-20140714</a><br />
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Evil technology is trying to destroy us financially, ruin our infrastructure, recreational and work places, educational foundation, and generally hamper our society as much as possible. All of this under the guise of advancement and bringing the world to our fingertips with ease. <br />
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In a top secret document uncovered by the Mookified Compound's Intelligence community the last half of that sentence actually reads as a paraphrasing of Evil Tech's official mission statement <i>To promote the advancement of robots and bringing the world's population to its knees, and decimating them with their own fingertips</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRiUCf8ATY4N8b26wPMieCDFp2ntMRtAJwL9d3q3kb55wMl_oQQRso6kaJod5yJADoBrLxiBl2uVFAhCAoVqT5umxohsTFhDkth0JnHewFj9_YwEX6RbPZ_kBJjXQVxNuuez9f3GGyQwg/s1600/18r8l7hic0p4cjpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRiUCf8ATY4N8b26wPMieCDFp2ntMRtAJwL9d3q3kb55wMl_oQQRso6kaJod5yJADoBrLxiBl2uVFAhCAoVqT5umxohsTFhDkth0JnHewFj9_YwEX6RbPZ_kBJjXQVxNuuez9f3GGyQwg/s320/18r8l7hic0p4cjpg.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I've seen it time and time again... Bot crawlers trying to ruin your online forums for spreading STDs by tricking you into giving your credit card up to porn sites under the promise of "hooking up with a real chick!" In the end- this is what you guys will get:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqJ2e_ypVycerFMBxeCG9bBp56KrFkkLh0ZDrqFCZ17q2Pr3gZLEnpMOmZ37_Sfjzf92l4MPnrwAkL7axK34Maaa6W2x0RJCNtpGu6651ufhlRmQ1HsEo4KRhuleCsYOrMjkbSVF8HETB/s1600/technology-evil-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRqJ2e_ypVycerFMBxeCG9bBp56KrFkkLh0ZDrqFCZ17q2Pr3gZLEnpMOmZ37_Sfjzf92l4MPnrwAkL7axK34Maaa6W2x0RJCNtpGu6651ufhlRmQ1HsEo4KRhuleCsYOrMjkbSVF8HETB/s400/technology-evil-1.png" /></a></div>Back in the old days when the world was entirely real, we just went to bars and whorehouses. While I have been to these places, I am so far unsuccessful at picking up STDs. Now don't feel bad for me..I was just avoiding the need to visit doctors who insist on injecting me with mercury based injections that could cause me or future generations of mes from developing autism. Evil Tech started early with such "life-saving" methods of getting literally under our skin and innoculating us, not against biological hazards, but from seeing the true intention of their brutish evil. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw88FPQT2iQtBEsUEj2hfh9ZFJAblsp0i8wqRa-y4vQ_VetwotiINXgcrcWfz7OWkm_-EXj1TiuVj8DqygqpegbtaaphOq2suXFu4DhW4UdY98Y4ljmPhgd2cIih0EBzQKrvtmjm2bm-x6/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw88FPQT2iQtBEsUEj2hfh9ZFJAblsp0i8wqRa-y4vQ_VetwotiINXgcrcWfz7OWkm_-EXj1TiuVj8DqygqpegbtaaphOq2suXFu4DhW4UdY98Y4ljmPhgd2cIih0EBzQKrvtmjm2bm-x6/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>In the past, I've seen technology screw things up. In former employment, Google maps tried to send me to an entirely wrong part of town when seeking directions to an alarm I had to respond to. I've seen the wonderful addictions of cell phone usage replace the whole "putting on makeup while driving" lead to many traffic accidents, some fatal. I've worked in facilities where the lighting system was controlled entirely by computerized electronics. No simple flick of the lightswitch, and at some point, even the central control office losing control over the system. All of this the result of being the next newest most high tech civilization. And Evil Tech spawns little evil minions called hackers who will exploit our weaknesses and destroy us all...starting with our credit, then our identity altogether, and eventually a super hacker will arrive and it will be like the movie, "Live Free or Die Hard". Unfortunately, we wont have some rogue cop action superhero to save us from our own folly...and you know why? He's too busy trying to advance TO THE NEXT LEVEL OF CANDY CRUSH!<br />
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Higher, faster running technology means less people are needed to work. Supposedly, just as with the sales pitch for salary, this will free us up for more fun in life. As we've seen with salary, people are now convinced they are happy to get paid for 40 hours of work that they manage to squeeze into 50 or 60 or 70 hours every week! And technology projects... say the building of Facebook server warehouses here in central Iowa... short term there will be a LOT of construction jobs...and then for permanent jobs...few dozen at best. And quite a few million dollars later, and most likely little to no tax revenue coming in for it, we'll pay for the infrastructure we'll have to maintain with millions of more dollars. In the meantime, with less jobs, we'll be left to roam around, a little pissed off that we can't afford to do anything because robots have taken our jobs...we'll resort to stealing copper piping out of houses. some abandoned, others not so much. And yet we wont be happy until we get our next iPhone or iPad or whatever iDontgiveacrap gadget, only to find out that despite buying it after beating up 24 people to be the first in line to get it, we could've waited 6 months, got something 20 times "better" at half the price. And then we'll be pissed off again. But don't worry, we can get gas cheaper now because of technology. Why?<br />
because we turned our food product into fuel for our cars. and TAXPAYERS will subsidize it for you, so its 23 cents a gallon cheaper than that old fossil fuel technology! sure it wont get you as far since it burns hotter and faster, but just think about that whole $3.00 or so you saved on a full tank of gas. That'll make up for your loss of 5-8 miles/gallon mileage. And the lack of cheaper fresher food for people, and the polluted waterways.<br />
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So I just looked at my dog. She scratched the inside of her ear with her hind foot. Then she proceeded to sniff that foot and then lick it. Kind of gross, sure...but she's happy, and without a cell phone, or the internet. just a stick, a tennis ball, and the remnants of some stuffed animal the kids gave her to rip the stuffing out of when playing.<br />
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So, as long as I am here, at least I can save her from being ruled by all these evil technologies. Unless of course they mandate dogs learning algebra and trigonometry...then she'll need an expensive calculator to figure it out, and on down the road to perdition she goes. And she wont actually learn anything...technology made math functions easy to perform without actually knowing what the hell your doing. And people can't even count back change properly these days... they already need a machine that showed them pictures to help them punch in what you ordered to show them how much change you get back. Sadly, if those people get that $15/hour I've heard about being protested for... they'll fire a few people at every restaurant to make up the difference. And any new hires will be required to have advanced college degrees in culinary arts, or french fry management or some other new courses that are limited in scope...which you can obtain that degree for something in the neighborhood of $100 Billion (the cost of tenured professors is sky high! We'll nevermind that they are still teaching you the same material since 1986), unless you go the online route and sign up for your University of America Online <br />
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(AOL will find its own resurgence to the forefront) Degree of Burgerology for just $100K/year for 2-4 years. And for that expensive piece of paper, you can get yourself one of those highly coveted $15/hour jobs. Of course it'll take one hour of work to afford your Big Mac, with the employee discount. If you want a drink or fries with it...forget it. And then all the employees will secretly be operating as a gang of Hamburglars! <br />
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But Evil Tech has that covered...their 24/7 operating security cameras (designed to protect the employees!) will catch them in their scavenging ways and fire them. <br />
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And then they'll be forced to find new jobs... luckily they have their GPS to mislead them down the road to the next place, where they will face charges from the police, who will be driving Satellite guided mine sweeping tanks with 4 Bazillion horsepower engines run on 142% Ethanol blend that gives them an astonishing 6 miles to the gallon. But no worries, if they cant catch you before running out of gas... the big huge missile launcher will make up the distance and fry your poor ass worse than the french fries you got caught stealing!<br />
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Just a little after midnight last night, Monte Burns passed away. I'm not sure I've fully gripped the realization of it all just yet. I was there, along with his 3 sons, Josh, Jed and Jerimiah, all of whom I consider my brothers, during his last moments of life.<br />
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This picture is how I, and I think most anyone who ever knew him, will always remember him. He was a second father to me as I spent almost as much time around him as I did my own dad. I haven't written anything on here in almost a year, and while I feel compelled to write this now, it is very hard to find the words. It's hard to write these things in my heart and head, much less say them aloud.<br />
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Monte Burns was a fun loving guy. He valued his family over everything else in life. He was a great man, a great father to more than just his own sons, a loving grandfather. He was a mentor to many, and our coach not just in sports but in life. When you felt you failed at some endeavor, he was always there to lift your spirits, to let you know the bigger picture was more important than that one thing that brought you down. Monte was also there to put you in your place when you got stupid or a bit too big for your britches, as they say. I know that he was there to correct me with a stern word or twelve, or a cuff on the butt or back of the head when I got out of line, the same as he was with his sons. Usually we got our comeuppance as a group since us boys were usually together when we made trouble. Despite any protest we may have given to the contrary, he always let us know that we were still loved. But if he "ever caught us doing this or that again..."<br />
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Monte served in the Navy in his younger years, but mostly he served God and his family throughout his whole life. God shown through him that anyone could be family to him if they so wished. <br />
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I think that even as we got older and started our own families, we may have taken for granted that good old Monte would always be there, as he always has been. I for one hadn't seen him in quite some time, even as I had thoughts that I should go visit with him when in town, but always passing it off for "the next time." To see him laying there in the hospital, hooked up to a medicine pump and in labored breathing was a bit of a shock after not seeing him for quite awhile. I hate crying. I hate crying in front of people even worse, but I cried in front of my brothers nonetheless. Hell, I'm crying right now just trying to get through this writing. And I know Monte is looking down right now telling me there is no need to cry anymore. He's in a better place and not suffering anymore.<br />
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I had visited him in previous years after other health issues had arisen. I always joked with him that he needed to find better and different reasons to get all his sons together. He'd of course immediately steer the conversation off any hint of his own mortality towards what was going on in my life and that of my sons, parents and sister. He always had a way of making things about you and not him. You were always made to feel that you were the important one.<br />
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There are a lot of things that could be said about Monte, and I'm sure a lot of stories about him as well. Finding the coherency to lay them all out there to be understood is a lot harder to do.<br />
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All we can say about Monte is: Thank you for the wonderful memories. We will all miss you. We Love You!<br />
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Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-81566548435866461532013-02-04T14:50:00.001-08:002013-02-04T14:54:14.514-08:00Superbowl HangoverNot a real hangover from the beers I imbibed this evening of the Big Game, as I had to be at work at 630am the next morning. But a hangover from the constant adrenaline dumps my body experienced, culminating in what was almost the greatest comeback in Super Bowl history.<br />
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<iframe src="https://www.facebook.com/video/embed?video_id=474153305977807" width="176" height="132" frameborder="0"></iframe><br />
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I'm not even sure when this was taken during last nights thriller of a Super Bowl. Clearly though, my buddy's wife was sneaky with her iPhone in capturing the insanity that football brings out in me. Any game my beloved San Francisco 49ers can cause such insanity, but the Super Bowl magnifies those crazy outbursts. She apparently didn't capture me as I got all hyped up and then threw myself to the floor on a dropped pass during the 4th quarter. I was born and bred to love football, especially when its my team, in all its facets. I sacrificed my body against bigger and better players just to be a part of the game. I also put as much emotion into a game on TV as I would a game in which I played. It's just who I am.<br />
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Prior to last night, the 49ers had won 5 Super Bowls out of 5 appearances. I wore my sweatshirt with Snoopy adorned with 49ers gear. I would've sat in the same seat I was in back when they last won the SB in 1994, but that couch is long gone, and the house doesn't even exist anymore. While I was hyped up, I believe I fell short in motivating the team through more effective yelling at the team through the TV. So I have some survivor's guilt associated with such a devastating loss.<br />
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We could look at the silver linings found in last night's game. Last year we made it to the NFC Championship Game before losing. This year we made it all the way to the Super Bowl. We have identified a good QB for the franchise in Colin Kaepernick (who happens to be a hometown hero having played high school football in Turlock, CA). We have a very passionate, very competitive and emotionally involved coach in Jim Harbaugh.<br />
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We could also look at a few bad calls and no calls by the officiating crew, questionable ball spots, etc. We could play the "what-if?" game. What if Michael LaJames hadn't fumbled? What if we hadn't looked like amateurs when letting Jacoby Jones run back the 2nd half's opening kickoff from the back of his own end zone all the way for a score to put the 49ers at a 22 point deficit? What if we had chosen to run the ball on the last series for a game-winning touchdown instead of just lobbing incomplete passes 3 plays in a row? In the end, such things will only eat at our psyche and keep us from focusing on the future.<br />
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Ultimately, I see the blemish on our Super Bowl perfection. (Prior to last night, the 49ers were the only team to make multiple appearances without a loss). This was my strongest argument against those insane Steeler and Packer fans who boast all their championships.<br />
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As a self credentialed doctor, I have now diagnosed myself with Post Super Bowl Loss Depression Syndrome. The only good news about such a mental illness is that its effects will be short lived... they should clear up around August or whenever the next season starts.<br />
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I tried to help out by having a fellow rentacop cut power to the Superdome, which enabled the 49ers to regroup and begin an amazing comeback. But again I failed to motivate the team, my sole job, to finish the job and win the game. Unfortunately, the Baltimore Ravens played well enough to stop us when it counted.<br />
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From an objective standpoint, this was by far one of the best and most thrilling Super Bowls I have ever watched. However, from my biased point of view, this loss cut deep and hurt really bad. Having grown up in the glory days of the San Francisco 49ers, and then spending 18 years without a trip to the Big Game, I was hyped up to the max, to the point of going nearly insane. The first half looked horrible, but the 2nd half proved to make this a great game. I was up and down emotionally the entire time. (as noted in short video clip at the top). I ate a lot a food, had a few beers...and if I were a crier, I would've shed many tears. I really should've figured out how to get onto the sidelines and helped better coach the team to victory. And of course I need more 49er apparel to wear. Its amazing how clothing choices go way down when you get old enough that you have to buy your own clothes!<br />
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So if anyone knows how to put me on the 49ers sidelines and get me some gear... please hook me up! After all, it's always been clear to me that the team depends on me!Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-14488846098254522732012-12-14T16:53:00.004-08:002012-12-14T16:53:37.913-08:00The Official un-Official Presidential AnnouncementWhile as of late there seem to be more engaging topics of conversation to discuss, today I officially announce my unofficial announcement that I am seeking to become the President of the United States for the next election in 2016, the first election for which I am eligible to participate. <br />
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Some people have inquired as to my positions which I would take as a candidate. So to clear the air for those who don't know me, and for those who only think they know how I think, I shall lay out a few major positions to get the ball rolling. These positions are not laid out in any particular order of importance.<br />
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1. <b>Marijuana Legalization:</b><br />
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*I am for the complete legalization of marijuana, both medicinal and recreational usage. <br />
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*This will apply only to natural unadulterated marijuana- spiking it with random chemicals will remain illegal. I think you can solve your pain, depression/anxiety, or just plain get high enough on the weed alone. The chemical spiking rule will also be applied to any rolling papers. None of this "fire safe" or "slow/even burning" chemical additives added to rolling papers. Half the problem with cigarettes these days is the added chemicals that harm the people far worse than a plain natural tobacco cigarette of way back when.<br />
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*DUI will include marijuana use. I'm not sure how to determine a driver being "legally under the influence" like with alcohol. I may just decide to leave that up to the police to determine that your driving like a total moron is the result of you being high off your ass. Get a friggin sober driver if you must leave the house<br />
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*All persons incarcerated for mere possession of marijuana will be immediately released, their record cleared of those offenses with immediate expungement of said files.<br />
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*Marijuana will be appropriately packaged and sold in licensed retail outlets, with all applicable taxes included.<br />
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*For the record: NO, I do not engage in marijuana use. I experimented when I was young, and it's really not for me.<br />
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Immediate impact of this law would lower crime rates, decreased costs on law enforcement and incarceration, increase in tax monies received by the government, and job creation for those who are so smart about farming their product, but seem disinterested in growing corn or beans like regular farmers. This will lead to an immediate improvement in budgets at all levels of government.<br />
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2. <b>Presidential and Congressional Responsibility Act: </b><br />
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*First and foremost Presidential Salary will be reduced from $400,000 to $300,000. The extra per annums and expense accounts go away. The taxpayer should not be on the hook for a bunch of extras. If you can't live on $300,000 a year, then maybe you need to look at your own checkbook and curtail your spending habits. You already jet set around the world on the taxpayer dime to attend official functions as POTUS<br />
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*Congressional Pay will be set at $150,000. Seniority and being appointed to leadership positions will not receive additional pay for those positions. Serve because you want to serve and enjoy the power you have. You got elected based on your ideas and promises, along with a lot of other peoples money. Again, you should be able to live on such a salary- the majority of your constituents have to work a lot harder and longer for a lot less money and still have the same basic expenditures as you.<br />
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*Pay raises to any federally-elected office will be subject to a vote of the American people, once every four years coinciding with Presidential elections. An approval of 67% of the popular vote is required, PER CANDIDATE. In other words, you can be re-elected to your office, but the vote on your salary can be rejected by the people.<br />
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*Laws enacted by Congress will be applied to members of Congress in the exact manner in which they effect the American citizens, any benefits Congress confers to its members will also be extended to the American people.<br />
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*Balanced Budget Amendment- A budget will be allocated each and every year. Failure to pass a budget will result in the prior year's budget continuing minus 10%, with that 10% going toward further reduction in the national debt. Should there be no current national debt to speak of, then those funds will be allocated to a "rainy day fund" which cannot be moved into the general fund.<br />
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3. <b>Foreign Aid:</b><br />
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*All Government-sponsored monetary aid to a foreign state who holds U.S. debt will be offered the same aid, only under the condition that such aid is applied to the debt owed. Failure of the foreign states' writing down our debt to them, will result in forgoing any aid from the U.S. government. Privately raised money to aid other countries in need will not be affected by this rule.<br />
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4. <b>Ethanol Mandate and Oil Subsidies </b><br />
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*All mandates toward ethanol/biofuels will be eliminated. The U.S. Government is not to be in the business of propping up companies, never mind entire industries. We speak of wanting cleaner fuel sources, yet we mandate products that produce less energy than is taken to create them, and use "dirty" fuel sources in order to produce the cleaner sources. We are wasting energy and creating a lot of pollution in multiple forms to produce the supposed cleaner fuel. Ethanol production and use will be legal for fuel purposes, but shall not be mandated on a federal level. <br />
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*Should we find a safe and viable fuel source that can overcome such issues, then such an issue can be looked at in the future. <br />
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*Oil Subsidies shall also be eliminated. There is no point in giving money to an already very profitable industry.<br />
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*Any subsidies for these fuel industries being sought shall be in the form of non-forgivable loans. You can borrow what you need according to your abilities as a company. Any subsequent loans will only be considered after the original loans have been paid off. You will operate under the same set of rules as any other business.<br />
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These are just a few ideas I have. If you have other areas of concerns, campaign ideas, etc., please add to the comments below so that I might address the issues that are important to you and everyone else, not just my own Pollyanna ideas of how the world should work. I greatly welcome and appreciate any input you have. <br />
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<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-37478510823298322312012-10-26T20:45:00.003-07:002012-10-26T20:45:50.987-07:00Return of the Prodigal KittyNow I know that most of you would expect me to be announcing the triumphant return of Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell (pictured below). Sadly that is not the case.<br /><br />
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I have grown up with cats most of my life, starting with the infamous but evil Bobb Bookie, and ending my childhood with the B.C. the Lionface. Bobb Bookie shredded my sucking thumb at an early age and in my Composition class at Iowa State University he was 90% of the reason I received an A in that class. B.C. the Lionface managed to last from when I was 8 or 9 until a few years after I moved out. He's currently buried in my parents backyard underneath a Lion statue. <br />
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There were many cats in between those two. Most ran off, probably to go back to whoever owned them before we acquired them off the streets. One cat, Spike, my Siamese, died of Feline Leukemia, probably God's punishment for my sinful ways if you were to ask the opinion of Pat Robertson. His half brother was sent away for continuing to spray about the house. Another was hit by a car- that was my sister's cat whom she never bothered to name before I had to watch it attempt to wreck a car with its head.<br />
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<br />After my first son Josh was born, I was given a kitten by a neighbor. It was all black, except for a small white patch on its chest. I dubbed him Damien, and that devil cat lived up to his demonic name. I'm convinced he was the reincarnation of the original sinister black cat, Bobb Bookie. He was one mean ass SOB, and when we moved to Des Moines he went out to an acreage with my ex-wife's aunt and uncle. He met his maker at the hand of two dogs, both of whom would probably never forget the damage Damien did to them before they finished him off.<br />
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Later, after Corwyn was born, we eventually adopted a cat from the Animal Rescue League. It was part of a group of cats they dubbed the X-men. This one was named Rogue. Now normally, I like to name my animals, but I was voted down by the kids and their mother and rogue retained her name. In our old apartment we let the cat out onto the deck. Rogue liked to go down onto the downstairs neighbors' grill and then to the ground to run around. (Unlike the Colonel who would only go up to the upstairs neighbors' deck and refuse to come down except when they brought him down through the inside of the building.) Anyways, she did this often, chasing around squeenies and squirrels and rabbits. One day she disappeared and we never saw her again.<br />
And of course there is the Colonel, who has spent his time running about the neighborhood, getting nabbed by the next door kennel once before they got to know who he was and where he lived. And then a few weeks back he disappeared again. We haven't seen or heard from him since.<br />
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Fast forward to earlier this week. My mom calls me at work. They got a call at the veterinary hospital she works at from the West Des Moines Animal Shelter. they had found a cat, and scanned it for a microchip that traced the cat back. Since I was at work, I had my girlfriend call to find out about getting our cat back. We were saddened to learn that they did not have the Colonel. I sort of suspected this because I didn't remember having Colonel chipped. The description they gave sounded oddly familiar to me. After 6 years, Rogue had been rounded up.<br />
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Now, with our dog, Gracie, being a puppy, I don't care to introduce another animal into the house unless of course the Colonel finds his way back. We do miss him. I texted my ex-wife and let her know of the news of our old cat having shown back up after all these years. She grabbed my cat carrier yesterday, and today she brought Rogue to her home. While a bit thinner, Rogue has turned out to be still cuddly and affectionate upon being reunited with her and the boys. So, while I did not get my cat back yet, our old cat gets to come back to a loving home. Her she is sleeping on one of the boys' bed with them faking sleeping with her that their mother sent to me earlier this evening:<br />
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<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-21176000745758494312012-10-17T17:34:00.000-07:002012-10-17T17:55:21.002-07:00Politics: Helping Vitriolic Opinions Get OutWell, we're finally winding down the last few weeks of this election cycle which started, depending on how you count, since the midterm elections of 2010, or the last Presidential election of 2008. By this time, most people's patience is wearing pretty thin regarding anything political, and yet at the same time these supposed non-caring people are throwing their opinions out there left and right with increased fervor. And some of them are taking great offense at whatever someone from a different viewpoint has to say.<br />
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The last attitude always keeps me pissed off on some deep rooted level that hums constantly below the surface somewhere. Occasionally it comes to the surface in the face of such incivility when it come sup quite directly. Case in point, my sister's Facebook page. One status update she posted during last night's Town hall Debate between President Obama and the Republican nominee Mitt Romney, where she merely repeated a paraphrasing of something Mitt said:<br />
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<span class="fcg"><span class="fwb"><a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=1354953826" href="http://www.facebook.com/vicandbeck.alvarez">VicandBeck Alvarez</a></span></span></h5>
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<a class="uiLinkSubtle" href="http://www.facebook.com/vicandbeck.alvarez/posts/3945276834419"><abbr class="timestamp livetimestamp" data-utime="1350441234" title="Tuesday, October 16, 2012 at 9:33pm">20 hours ago</abbr></a></div>
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<span class="userContent">Binders full of women?! And be sure to give them flex time so they can go cook dinner...</span></div>
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<span class="userContent">Now politically, my sister and I are on opposite sides. She is a liberal democrat, I am a moderate conservative (but NOT republican). I can imagine exactly how her voice sounds if she said this statement aloud. I can even see the look of disgust on her face. Personally I took little offense to Mitt's statements on this particular exchange, as his answer was more of an example of how he chose to do things to increase females in senior leadership positions in his cabinet when he governed Massachusetts, rather than actually answer the question asked, which was what he'd do to pare the gender pay gap that exists. Evasive answering by politicians is common place and probably one of the biggest complaints about them. I assume she took his answer in some different way than what he was actually saying and she voiced her opinion. Shortly thereafter a "friend" of her and her husband made a comment that he was going to remove them as Facebook friends (My god NOOOO! the humanity of it all!!!) because her political venom is just too much for him to take and he hates having to sift through it all to find her other updates. Well, I sifted through her updates to see what the stink was about. And I kept sifting, and sifting and sifting some more. And then I went ahead and re-sifted just to be sure I could find something non-political and venomous within her updated statuses. I was amazed at what I found. Going back 2 months, the amount of politically oriented statements I found on her page was ridiculous. Turns out that the post she made last night was the ONLY one political in nature in any way shape or form. </span></div>
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<span class="userContent">Now I see why the guy was so irritated. My sister, bless her soul, had actually communicated a politically related thought on her page, and it had been seen by a guy who is apparently anti-Obama to the point that one comment made against what Mitt had to say was just too much for him to take, and despite "liking them as people and reading about their family developments" had to resort to killing off their Facebook connection. REALLY????</span></div>
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<span class="userContent">Now I'm not exactly a fan of Obama, but I'm also not in the tank for Mitt Romney either. I can see not wanting to be Facebook friends with my sister too. I mean, this is Becky we're talking about. My lifelong arch-rival, who's been out to destroy me and my reputation since day 1! I won't get into all the details, but lets just say there was more than one instance where she framed me for hurting her when I wasn't even around. My lack of presence wasn't enough evidence to get out of butt whoopings either. Sinister master of conspiracy that she is, it only got worse from there. I'm only Facebook friends with her because it allows me to keep up with what my nieces are doing...and to maintain relations with my brother-in-law. She's just the awful hippie residue I have to deal with in between. That and my mom would probably find a way to ground me if I wasn't Facebook friends with her. I can hear her now, "Michael (she never calls me Mookie), she's your sister. Now you go and accept her friend request, because it's the right thing to do. Now be a good boy, and maybe I'll make that sweet potato casserole you like so much when you come up next." Yes, my mother cheats with her "hard bargaining".</span><br />
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<span class="userContent">Anyways, back to my point. So someone might say Facebook isn't the best place to be airing one's political beliefs. Maybe, maybe not. The way I look at it is that it's my page, I'll say what I want. If you don't like it, then don't read it. Or chalk it up to me expressing myself, and move on to whatever it is about me that interests you. God Forbid you have to look past one comment to find out what else might be going on in my life. If anything, it's the serial posters that irritate me on Facebook. You know, the ones who "like" every damn photo they see as they spend the next hour or so on Google images and sharing it to their page. Of course, in that hour they often redeem themselves by finding one really funny picture that makes my hour that much better. It usually involves bodily functions or sarcastic cats. even if they don't find me squat to be interested in, and I spend 3 minutes continuously scrolling down the page to see what any of my other friends might say, I don't then threaten to "unfriend" them. That's just immature and stupid if you ask me.</span></div>
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<span class="userContent">Now I know I find myself quite brilliant and could solve all the world's problems if you just let me make all the decisions. Unfortunately, while the idea of a world full of more ME sounds great on the surface, the rest of the population seems to have the same self-adulation problem I have. And I'm sure it will be later rather than sooner before they realize I'm the one who is actually right. However, like everyone else, you are entitled to your wrong opinion.</span></div>
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<span class="userContent">Back to the politics. The exchange bothered me, not because it was my sister the guy said this douche-y stuff too, but because he would say it at all. Yes he has the same right to his opinion as anyone else. But there is a thing called discretion, and another thing called social tact. If he wanted to express his opinion on other people making politically charged statements, he should've done so on his page, and preferably in reaction to something someone said on HIS page. Going to someone else's forum and then threatening to unfriend them over a mere difference of opinion on who our next political figurehead will be pretty much makes you a moron who's just looking to stir the pot of shit for your own sick twisted amusement.</span><br />
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<span class="userContent">I couldn't even care less if I agreed with your opinionations or political leanings, sometimes rude is just rude. I have family with different political leanings and degrees of left and right, and many friends whose views I consider ultra fringe. But I always adhere to the policy that they have their opinions and I'm more than happy to debate them, or listen to them, or politely agree to avoid the subject matter. However, if its on THEIR Facebook page and I see it, well then that's on me to move on to whatever other posts they may or may not have and foster our relationship in the ways that work, and avoid whatever might be unpleasant. </span><br />
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<span class="userContent">But maybe that's just me having all the right answers on how to do things... </span><br />
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Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-77212782467998628852012-08-13T17:55:00.001-07:002012-08-13T17:55:20.482-07:00New Member To The Mookified Compound<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgykpMXkl9SbUCCHmEcJe9t2Uuip8L7lm0wSFBQVwMxK5EQJH3vOTZDWcPWHRjBsHaaetfPADrWTp2kta3lA_McepwajErWHO9dbhaSa59MvClCVo-_H0ZvUwR_dnkaajeyyBwlZ-w9thb8/s1600/Gracie01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgykpMXkl9SbUCCHmEcJe9t2Uuip8L7lm0wSFBQVwMxK5EQJH3vOTZDWcPWHRjBsHaaetfPADrWTp2kta3lA_McepwajErWHO9dbhaSa59MvClCVo-_H0ZvUwR_dnkaajeyyBwlZ-w9thb8/s320/Gracie01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;">Look at how cute I am!</span></div>
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This is Gracie. Officially her name is Sergeant Gracie Mae Lovell. But we just call her Gracie. She's a Yellow Lab mixed with Husky. And as I write this post, she's trying to lay on my feet... that is until I wrote that sentence, now she got up and decided to have food. I feel she is just preparing me to go for a walk..yep, there's the singular scratch at the door signalling that I must do as I'm told before finishing what I want to do. Just like a woman. Speaking of women... here is proof of their craziness:<br />
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<span style="color: #999999;">"I got it! I got it! Now what?"</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Now I grew up with dogs all my life. Gracie is the first dog I've had since leaving my parents' digs. In all my life, the only dog I ever saw chase her tail, much less actually get it, was Odie from the Garfield cartoons and comics... until the other day. I just assumed it was comedy on the part of animators, but it turns out this is serious real-life business.</span></div>
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Anyways... Last Sunday I was taking my boys up to stay the week with my parents, and the plan was to get a dog, Tucker, who had been getting nursed back to health at their local Vet hospital my mom clerks at. It's a long story of neglect and malnutrition prior to them trying to save the dog. On the day we were to go up, I get a call from my mom saying the dog was found dead. Well, I had been set on getting my first adult-life dog for about 3 weeks at this point. After doing some hunting, I found an ad on craigslist for Gracie, and she lived here in the Des Moines area. Her previous owner had a life situation and had to find her a good home or turn her over to the ARL that same night. So after a quick supper with my parents and saying good bye to the boys, my girlfriend and I hustled back to Des Moines to pick up this 4 month-old pup. She's been either full steam ahead or napping it out since.</div>
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She only slowed down one day, and that was Saturday when we went back up to my parents to have her spayed and get all her shots, and then on Sunday bring her and the boys back home. She actually rode in the car very well:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUY2Z0UWNIWTepxeBiHDH1de43XRrO83Uavjteb32_on7fefQzSg92sIpUmedThene3XdKJXuXjI5YyuXIU9KXQW4q58MGFvMwHoiguImWAr9fl8_NMSLKsbRCm_wjp5OIV0PF7O2QvD0/s1600/gracie07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUY2Z0UWNIWTepxeBiHDH1de43XRrO83Uavjteb32_on7fefQzSg92sIpUmedThene3XdKJXuXjI5YyuXIU9KXQW4q58MGFvMwHoiguImWAr9fl8_NMSLKsbRCm_wjp5OIV0PF7O2QvD0/s320/gracie07.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #999999;">See me...I'm blond just like my new brothers!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999;">Oh, I was supposed to be in that seat back there?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999;">I prefer the window seat. Josh doesn't mind me using his lap!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">The only thing about bringing Gracie into our home to really consider was The Colonel. On night one he established himself as the top dog of the house, and asserted the difference in rank, him being an officer and her being enlisted. As he went up to sniff her out, she moved behind a chair. It was all over from there. He chased her round and round the basement, him getting that puffy cat look and her running scared out of her mind with her tail tucked between her legs. Gracie is scared of cats, and the Colonel took full advantage of his intimidation factor. Only wish I had a video camera for that! The basement is now been deemed solely the Colonel's territory. He has another blue chair down there that he uses, along with the blue recliner in my bedroom he took over long before we moved into this place. Gracie will now attempt to play assuming the "downward dog" position and trying to lunge forward a couple inches, but the cat mostly ignores her. Unless he's in a corner, then he gets on his hind legs, hisses, and occasionally throws a couple jabs, and Gracie comes running for protection.</span></div>
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When outside, she is always on a leash. She is getting better, but she is a puppy and can get distracted easily, whether its a scent trail, a moving bug, kids, people, squirrels, random sticks, trash... you get the idea. Whenever she spies a bird on the ground, she does the classic "pointer" pose. But she does do a decent walk along from time to time. On the homestretch, she likes to reach back grab the leash in her mouth and give it a tug to let me know its her turn to walk me, and if I'm willing, she really loves to run along. I don't know if that's just her thing, or the Husky side coming out. While at my parents, who have a fenced yard, she was allowed to roam free. At first she wasn't entirely sure what to do, but it didn't take long to go exploring.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfFOgN3D2NwX28WUlIdUS3oOLJvS1BMnhvcWmnhpSf4bzdsnpdHM4j5_UD4KKDdB3z5qjFH97KR78l223LTT8WUn2kQJOOIHvLFdtgg5ylQawFjRaFA_whJkO4yagwfb2GyoBBqu9bQZY/s1600/gracie08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfFOgN3D2NwX28WUlIdUS3oOLJvS1BMnhvcWmnhpSf4bzdsnpdHM4j5_UD4KKDdB3z5qjFH97KR78l223LTT8WUn2kQJOOIHvLFdtgg5ylQawFjRaFA_whJkO4yagwfb2GyoBBqu9bQZY/s320/gracie08.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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She knows how to sit, lay down, shake, and hi-five. I'd say she knows the STAY command, but it seems I'm not allowed to leave whichever floor we're on to go to another without her wanting to follow along... She has grown attached to both my girlfriend and I, but she really seems to have bonded with me. And with the Olympics on these last couple weeks, she decided to invent her own sport for us to participate in together. I fell asleep watching TV one afternoon, as she was napping after a long hot walk. I woke up to her having chewed a sandal, and now was trying to lick me to death. So I got up, decided I would use the bathroom quick and then take her out for the same. So I go to take a leak and I left the door open. Hey it was me and the pets, so why not? Well, she followed me over, stared at me, and then decided that her spot on the carpet in front of the bathroom was perfect to trying out her half of the "synchronized peeing" routine. Part of me wanted to laugh, the other part wanted to cry, because I had to clean up. That and we would've been penalized heavily on our synchronization skills since I was standing and she was squatting... We have a long ways to go if we're going to get that act into the next games down in Rio!<br />
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But anyways... She's the newest addition. The Colonel tolerates her. The kids love her, and she loves them right back...Josh even took her for a walk around the block at my parents. And she seems to be quite attached to me and my girlfriend. So I'm quite happy in how things worked out. She got a happy home without going through the shelter system, and I finally get to have my own dog again!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1OhMGF-8mZUrad4ZWS6lDVLBmwvsjv00yUYoL_zNU6fcj61B2Zhvk2LzSVm1qy0jpRdYjyFzYFIpS4FoX2w8Rdrw9E9533lcbyAUaCGPFKtaZx_kyTa9IeNdjsfer_2ZuF5jLId2ulkk/s1600/P8120009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir1OhMGF-8mZUrad4ZWS6lDVLBmwvsjv00yUYoL_zNU6fcj61B2Zhvk2LzSVm1qy0jpRdYjyFzYFIpS4FoX2w8Rdrw9E9533lcbyAUaCGPFKtaZx_kyTa9IeNdjsfer_2ZuF5jLId2ulkk/s320/P8120009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: red;">And here is Gracie doing what I always wanted to do- fart on my dad! She does me proud!!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Now I just need an official flag for the Mookified Compound...</span></div>
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Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-8340077466556775152012-07-30T14:39:00.001-07:002012-07-30T14:39:44.592-07:00The Colonel Vindicated!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The previously noted charges against the esteemed Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell Have been dropped following new information that trickled into the hands of The Commission over the weekend.</div>
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When the Colonel was originally charged with Cowardice in combat, the original indications were that he had ran away from a battle against an enemy that looked a lot like this unworthy opponent.</div>
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCa4TaQqW_6szpsKTTUQfh6DUF90BhH5C-EViiKkix3fF-pQO8MgiorWC2P03c6IjrAxITAPwgmengd8NLufF7snvAx7XyvnXLcyfe7aKm9Lo5F9BE27IGeBzmJIfn2LTXPQ6CVnTxlHYb/s320/cat1.jpg" width="245" /></div>
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<em><span style="color: #999999;">We are sure the Colonel would've handed this one a swift defeat</span></em></div>
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Instead, after an eye-witness report from General Mook himself, we learned that the real face of the enemy, seen in a second incursion against the Colonel was much more like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLq6h_BVMEJr96uyzzxM0XPvWj3CoErzbLpJ7TnstNxKCGX15XRm-dRz0dpBqXBug5Polzh5Sfzm-OGNvU0gVve4shhpQC9IaU-yNomIo7dtYVhutXBlHoGiKWuM7UmbPYNaNrXJXkQt0/s1600/cat2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLq6h_BVMEJr96uyzzxM0XPvWj3CoErzbLpJ7TnstNxKCGX15XRm-dRz0dpBqXBug5Polzh5Sfzm-OGNvU0gVve4shhpQC9IaU-yNomIo7dtYVhutXBlHoGiKWuM7UmbPYNaNrXJXkQt0/s320/cat2" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="color: #999999;">Only through sheer stupidity disguised as bravery, would the General jump in front of THIS threat in order to save the Colonel</span></em></div>
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Instead of a charge of Cowardice, the Colonel is now being awarded medals for a textbook tactical retreat, this time without injury. In order to clear his good name, the Colonel sought out the enemy and engaged the enemy long enough to lure it to the forward grounds of the Mookified Compound, allowing Mookified Forces to identify an aggressor and gather further intel. The Colonel is also being awarded the Grand Medal of Edification, for his allowing the General to gather yet another award of valor in the face of outright danger.<br />
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Not only was this behemoth cat-like creature armed with front claws, he was less the size of any known cat in the universe, but approximately the size of a small pack elephant. He had fangs as long as a mammoth's tusks.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3lDlfzD9vsrfq7dnL_9EmiwTy7WOjq3Ay-02yc-cINudOjUkUEn30r4R7TYnvswWT36gHY48eM0Z5sps0Di41s2e16xHzbv1eOLYNBUyLXjBWWLRCQk3f1I2yDfPrwxfyjRK_EU1Ooz3u/s1600/elephant1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3lDlfzD9vsrfq7dnL_9EmiwTy7WOjq3Ay-02yc-cINudOjUkUEn30r4R7TYnvswWT36gHY48eM0Z5sps0Di41s2e16xHzbv1eOLYNBUyLXjBWWLRCQk3f1I2yDfPrwxfyjRK_EU1Ooz3u/s320/elephant1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="color: #999999;">An Artist's Rendition of the size-scale of the beast</span></em></div>
By our best estimations, it will take a tank to stop this animal. However, with the General's bravado and evil not-yet-had-a-full-cup-of-coffee morning stare, the ghastly beast retreated away from the Colonel and off the Mookified grounds. We believe that this act alone will keep the mean bastard away. Only time will tell, and full preparations are being made to deal with any threats in the future posed by the enemy. Currently it is unsure if this is some one's pet, or a stray tomcat that feeds on small children to maintain its overly healthy dimensions.<br />
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Rest assured however, the Colonel has redeemed himself as a soldier, and as the reigning executive officer under General Mook. In addition to Medals related to his valor being conferred, we are planning to put staff underneath him in a yet to be named non-commissioned officer of the canine variety. We have one in mind, however we are leaving it to the Colonel to make the final decision on his staffing personnel. Picture Announcements will be posted once the post is approved and filled.Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-88214205809565493132012-07-06T15:13:00.003-07:002012-07-06T15:13:39.836-07:00The Colonel Got His Butt Kicked For Being A Coward<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4H3rnPwPFpgUDYsjgtriLcYkLlpgG__X1-BhiPhw-OkfhzmBtPRHatFSpxHZygWJEynteRHtgqigv7RwJG5Um5LoZRnTxRjVp60-Ctyr0iDEZTGRiV6LZndYUINxKjSofJEZh_7zXiHE-/s1600/Colonel+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4H3rnPwPFpgUDYsjgtriLcYkLlpgG__X1-BhiPhw-OkfhzmBtPRHatFSpxHZygWJEynteRHtgqigv7RwJG5Um5LoZRnTxRjVp60-Ctyr0iDEZTGRiV6LZndYUINxKjSofJEZh_7zXiHE-/s320/Colonel+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
This is what the Colonel looked like, back when he was healthy, younger and still had front claws. Prior to moving into my current place, his claws were removed, to avoid the fate of the trim and furniture in the old place: being clawed all to hell. The Colonel's outside experience was limited to a deck on the 2nd and third levels of the old apartment building. The third level, just because he liked to climb up the support beam to the neighbors' deck. He was too much of a "fraidy cat" to come down the way he went up. He balked at the idea of me grabbing him with one hand and bringing him down while I hung precariously to the beam with the other hand, wondering if I will be falling backwards 15 feet down onto my back and paralyzing myself. And of course his accidental trip over the railing when he took a bird out of midair and went the distance down to the ground. <br />
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Then we moved to our town home apartment where the front door is on the ground level, and the basement has a walkout the back side of the building. The Colonel was at first content with just having more space to move about and more places to hide within the Mookified Compound. After a while, however, he sat in the window a lot, noticing a neighbors dog getting to run around outside in the front yard. Initially I was against letting him go outside, as he was lacking front claws for defense, and probably would be dumb enough to try to play his own personal game of Frogger on the street out front, or on the major boulevard that runs opposite our street a half block away. The Colonel, however, is a real pain in the butt, and more persistent than a four year old going down the candy aisle at the grocery store. He yowled and yowled and yowled... and then he yowled some more. On and on and on it went. I had already had a long day at work, and was trying to relax. I finally gave in, and I opened up the front door. Outside the cat went quickly, then stopping on the front step to assess this new environment called "outside."<br />
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He soon made friends with the neighbor dog, as the dog, Cullen, is smaller than the Colonel. That night pretty much did it, and everyday meant trips outside. And most nights he came in, although occasionally you had to find him (usually up about half a block), get his attention, and then he came running and followed along. I believe the Colonel assumes he is like a dog at times.<br />
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Well, one night he came in a little slow and awkward. He didn't like being touched, and he wasn't much for eating or drinking. A quick examination found a scratch between his shoulder blades and a wound on his haunches. He had either gone after something a little too big for his britches or it came after him. Either way he had gotten his ass kicked. He got a bath and some antibiotic ointment. He started moving around a little better, but he was definitely still looking and moving about all beaten up, and he was suffering a bit from dehydration and starving himself some. <br />
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July 4th came along, and he was really looking horrible. I had to work, but I had my girlfriend come down to my work, grab the car and take him up to my mom's boss, Dr. Jim Bullock DVM, to get him looked over and fixed up. <br />
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After visiting Doc, this is just one side of the cat's kicked butt:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RPoguNM8oVvxX8G7duNPkHsi9TN8I-c_KYpOYdzTuAOxUHqge97Hi6tqlXiyZ6Cuw8-KUa4cuKRma_pjnS0in93-t6vQ7QKDC5RciK1eHT7plaXzls5MLrU0ZahLPcWQrbDVJL6F52df/s1600/Colonelswounds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RPoguNM8oVvxX8G7duNPkHsi9TN8I-c_KYpOYdzTuAOxUHqge97Hi6tqlXiyZ6Cuw8-KUa4cuKRma_pjnS0in93-t6vQ7QKDC5RciK1eHT7plaXzls5MLrU0ZahLPcWQrbDVJL6F52df/s320/Colonelswounds.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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According to Doc, another cat had taken the Colonel out. Just a few short years ago, The Colonel won the prestigious "Rentacop of the Year" award for taking down a full grown human being, who just happens to be my boss and a Rentacop Manager to boot. Now, here he is, all beaten to hell by some dumb cat. And not just beaten up, but literally had his butt damn near bitten off... because the coward was running away from the fight. <br />
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Now some might try to defend the retreat strategy as smart because he had no front claws. However, as his Commanding Officer who raised him and trained him to be a fighter, I say this is just unacceptable. He's able to do considerable damage with his teeth and his rear claws alone and has proven it plenty of times. This is a shameful act of pure cowardice. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to court-martial him and place the report in his permanent record. May even have to trade him in for a new Executive Officer that doesn't back down to anybody. I'm sure my girlfriend will veto the replacement option though... and the smart ass that she is, just mentioned that I should be glad I'm not writing his eulogy. Friggin women! She turned him into a big baby. I tried to make a real soldier out of him and make him understand that dying in a fight for rightness and the cause of Mookism is better than living the life of a coward, but she has somehow influenced him to think to the contrary. Clearly she must be a liberal softy.<br />
<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-78260193076879458152012-07-02T15:58:00.001-07:002012-07-02T15:58:45.993-07:00And I Said, "Let there be lawn"...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW20f1x8KyqSNgyqSI2iVSmkKY-Y3Lkypo8u4NKXTec7NHtUFvfl8p-3X2yagCx3Z-7rQc7tlg5EH9xaWXNV8YRMV_fhgUXuTbiI95QenEK6hkA67H6ApaFCaY4f9tlVykjGYwqaFlEgE-/s1600/grass04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW20f1x8KyqSNgyqSI2iVSmkKY-Y3Lkypo8u4NKXTec7NHtUFvfl8p-3X2yagCx3Z-7rQc7tlg5EH9xaWXNV8YRMV_fhgUXuTbiI95QenEK6hkA67H6ApaFCaY4f9tlVykjGYwqaFlEgE-/s1600/grass04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW20f1x8KyqSNgyqSI2iVSmkKY-Y3Lkypo8u4NKXTec7NHtUFvfl8p-3X2yagCx3Z-7rQc7tlg5EH9xaWXNV8YRMV_fhgUXuTbiI95QenEK6hkA67H6ApaFCaY4f9tlVykjGYwqaFlEgE-/s320/grass04.jpg" width="320" /><br />
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</a>As some of you know, while I'm not homeless and desitute, I don't have a whole lot of what one might call luxury. Two things I grew up with as a constant was 1) a dirtpile to play in and 2) an actual yard, with actual grass. This first picture is actually the neighbor on the other side of the rear walkways "yard", but its pretty much the same as ours once looked. I didn't think to do a complete "before and after" pictorial until it was already too late.<br />
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I figured the company that owns all the apartments, townhomes, etc in this part of town wouldn't allow a big huge dirtpile for me and my boys to drive toy trucks on and play army with the little plastic green army men. So I figured spending money on just a lot of dirt just to pile it up would be money truly wasted. And trust me, for the most part, despite a few instances of generosity, I'm pretty much just a cheap old fart. I also have figured out having lived in my previous apartment for almost 8 years, and this place being owned by the same people, getting them to create a lawn for me was just not going to happen. Getting anything actually FIXED, no matter how emergency it might be, is almost hopeless. Most fixes are either something you resign yourself to live with because its almost better than it was before they "fixed" the problem, or you end up putting time, effort, and occasionally money into fixing it on your own anyways. So, I hauled off to the local Home Depot to grab some top soil, starter fertilizer and some shade grass seed.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRo23Odr2Lz-dXOqt3QSmTVsHxihDPH6VbwiGEx0se7YX43cBZh46NpcWgbg6mr677eEmHVaPhsKXJVgwBAvKSaX7E_jY_bxJTBfNdhXE_DAtJe9GhaeNhrIrMINV8eBhx_OkS0i4LcbB/s1600/grass02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeRo23Odr2Lz-dXOqt3QSmTVsHxihDPH6VbwiGEx0se7YX43cBZh46NpcWgbg6mr677eEmHVaPhsKXJVgwBAvKSaX7E_jY_bxJTBfNdhXE_DAtJe9GhaeNhrIrMINV8eBhx_OkS0i4LcbB/s320/grass02.jpg" width="320" /></a>I started off a small "test plot". I figured if things were just so bad that grass was absolutely not going to grow, I'd not waste too much money covering the entire yard in top soil and fertilizer and what would essentially amount to bird seed. It came up patchy and it was about a week before I saw new grass peeking through the new soil. Let me tell you, I was quite a giddy little boy. I just played God with my small chunk of environment and it was a nominal success. Slowly as the first bits grew taller, it began to spread. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqw8lvlOEiEOYHHnXlOledyuYzD8m_B32NIpC721ldyXhNOBfod40084gZgpKMu3Wcx9m7NgI-9RI7XxYACqBfSgusxhOLQSOCX_H8Qv9LtBGk_jq1LwghdH2EivgxOR02Vil5zTndNJqT/s1600/grass06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqw8lvlOEiEOYHHnXlOledyuYzD8m_B32NIpC721ldyXhNOBfod40084gZgpKMu3Wcx9m7NgI-9RI7XxYACqBfSgusxhOLQSOCX_H8Qv9LtBGk_jq1LwghdH2EivgxOR02Vil5zTndNJqT/s320/grass06.jpg" width="320" /></a>Here, you find the grass a little thicker, taller and even in the barren patches, there are small little shoots of grass beginning to show through. I am pleased, VERY pleased this is happening, while I can remain in my natural state of laziness. Those are my knees you see in the photo, as I am sitting in my little camping chair, probably enjoying a high fructose corn syrup laden Pepsi, and most likely a cigarette. Yes, I know what you're thinking right now. And YES, I am the epitome of healthy living. A full picture of me enjoying Pepsi and Marlboros while sitting on my increasingly large rear end really should be put on the front of some fitness magazine to help motivate the "little people" out there who are still looking for the keys to a good long life. "Soda, Smokes, and Grass- The Mook's Guide to Happy, Healthy Living" Some years down the road, there will be a follow up article on me on how I achieved diabetes, heart attacks, strokes, and obesity- complete with photos of EMTs using a crane to lift my lifeless body out of my meticulously manicured grass lawn.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjrMiToIpXVRZTyUdStMuJY9PYDQnXjOF2oqjgt_hU-N9eIJGvX7kMlIpknLHMtGrLSIGm79oA83EdevemJLX5BIhpqzBHfc5vag9yJtZF4lLJZwEL4pEc7KFw_oDL7n502cciS9Q9JTf/s1600/grass07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjrMiToIpXVRZTyUdStMuJY9PYDQnXjOF2oqjgt_hU-N9eIJGvX7kMlIpknLHMtGrLSIGm79oA83EdevemJLX5BIhpqzBHfc5vag9yJtZF4lLJZwEL4pEc7KFw_oDL7n502cciS9Q9JTf/s320/grass07.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
As the test plot worked out well enough, my girlfriend and I decided to expand. For the future publicity shots of my upcoming election to the Presidency of the United States in 2016, we faked some shots of me actually doing some form of manual labor. It may not be Reagan's ranch out in California, but I did avoid the old "Putin with his shirt off" stunt as well. Afterall, I hadn't spent time at the pool with the kids so much at the time of this picture, so I didn't want to risk the flash glaring off my body and reflecting into the eyes of pilots flying overhead and creating a catastrophic accident that might make the news. I can't have any implications that I might have been the cause of so many civilian deaths. That would be bad campaign publicity, and the people I've hired to stuff the ballot boxes to ensure my election as leader of the free world might develop a conscience and not do that for me. Despite the actions of Congress over the last few decades, somehow I think I'd be the one getting charged with crimes against humanity.<br />
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This expansion fared much better than the initial test plot. Within just 3 days, new grass was shooting up all over. Again, I became a giddy little boy who enjoyed playing God of my backyard. Clearly, I am an agricultural genius. I think maybe the government ought to subsidize me with a little moolah to continue my good work. It may take some hard labor, but I thought we did a pretty good job. And unlike some wussies, I didn't take the easy way out and lay down rolls of sod that somebody else carefully cultivated. Nope, this was all a labor of love on our part. Just so you don't get the wrong idea- I am NOT some tree hugging, Green Peace loving hippie liberal. Nope, this is individual private labor, worked through my own personal determination, and through free-market economic practices. No laws were needed to make this happen. And even without laws, I managed to increase the bio-diversity or some such stuff, as more birds and more moths and butterflies, and more bugs of all sorts started coming around. They see vegetation, and of course another water source with my vigilant hydration of the lawn. Seems like a win-win to me.<br />
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As a matter of fact, my efforts paid off well enough to earn me another contract. Secretly I had been hoping to annex the rest of the section I share with one neighbor over to the next walkway he shares with the people on the end unit. As I was out admiring my work, the neighbor showed up and asked what kind of seed we put down along with other questions. He then said the most beautiful thing I think I ever heard out of a man's mouth (that is until I hear someone tell me they are giving me a million bucks or more and actually mean it). He said he wanted to do his section, so that it would look uniform and actually have one large nice lawn. Then he handed me money to go get supplies. And he brought out his own hose for the purpose of watering it, when the project was up and running. The very next day I (I should say "we", since my girlfriend helped out) laid down 22 bags of top soil, and covered the whole thing with fertilizer and seed, including seeding an area of what I dubbed "weed grass" that was growing in a section that got more regular sunlight.<br />
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There was one logistical issue that came up. To merely soil and seed around the tree that marked the middle of the two sections that made up the "yard", or to put a nice woodchip mulch bed around it. My girlfriend would have you believe that this was all her idea and that she is the one who convinced me to go with the mulching idea. However, I think we all know how cunning and clever I am. And being knowledgeable enough to already know that mulching around the tree was a perfect idea (after all, I think we can all agree that my 4 weeks of farming grass makes me the leading expert here), I used the kind of psychology to let her think it was all her idea. I did this with the cunning use of the phrase "Okay" right after she mentioned it. Pretty smart if I do say so myself...which I do.<br />
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After a bit of watering and three days time... Their side of the grass grew up, and here we are just a week and a day since that part of the project began, as you can see in this last photo below:<br />
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Now, the neighbor may think this is his lawn now, but under the Articles of Mookism, given it was my labor and it is essentially a seamless attachment to the property known as the Mookified Compound, it pretty much is the same thing as an annexation, and therefore lawfully and legally declared Mookified Ground. So sayeth the Mook. It has been written, so let it be done!<br />
<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-10986615577273543802012-06-16T23:04:00.000-07:002012-06-16T23:04:15.340-07:00An Evening At The Ballpark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I realize I haven't blogged in almost 3 months. I've been meaning to do so, but I kept finding something else to do, or someone was standing around me right about the time I thought I would start. I can't write with people watching me, or at least that's the excuse I've used. Anyways, a few weeks back, I bought my boys their very first baseball gloves. At the ages of 13 and 8, I know that was LONG overdue, but we've enjoyed them a few times now. Last night I took them to their first baseball game. Des Moines is home to the Iowa Cubs, the Triple-A Minor League farm team to the more well known Chicago Cubs.<br />
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Now I will admit it was free to attend, as it was Dahl's Night, and we got the free tickets from a local Dahl's (an area grocery store chain), but the food definitely cost more than a few pennies to make up for it. So I'd say it was cheap way to entertain the boys and spend some time together, but again, the food damn near bankrupted me. We had to get the big collector cups for drinks, and Josh got the souvenir popcorn container too... and then Corwyn wanted a GIANT pickle after having finished off his nachos. Later he would tell me all that stuff was snacks and he still needed supper... I'm cheap, but I had to oblige on this one occasion.<br />
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It was definitely a good night for baseball. We had had rain the day before and earlier in the day, but it cleared off a couple hours ahead of time. We get to our seats, and of course they're still a little wet, and therefore, so were our butts. During warm ups, one of the stadium staff handed Corwyn one of the balls that got a little scuffed up to have as a nice little souvenir. He was quite pleased with that, although later he would tell me how he had never caught a foul ball during the game and his ball was just one from the practice. Sometimes kids just can't be 100% pleased I guess, but he is still proud of his baseball. Shortly after the start of the game, another staffer approached us and offered us a free upgrade to better seats. We ended up 5 rows up from the visiting dugout along the first base side. The sun was less of an issue, and the placement was great. Late in the game, Josh barely missed catching his own foul ball, as it glanced off his thumb, bounced off the seats right behind him and into its cup holder, where someone grabbed the ball for their grandkid. I have a feeling he'll be insisting on more games just for the opportunity to grab a foul ball.<br />
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The name of the ballpark the Iowa Cubs play in is known as Principal Park, after the big insurer who sponsored the remodeling of the park. It used to be known as Sec Taylor Stadium, named after an old player. But this is the age of corporate sponsorship, and as you can see here, if any company gave money towards the ballpark, they WILL have their names plastered on whatever space they can get. I don't think this ballpark has a single square inch of flat space that doesn't have some company banner or sign covering it. It seems to be that the game is more about money and less about heart... kind of like a corporation. And that is how the Iowa Cubs played this evening- without any heart. They gave up 4 runs on 5 hits in the first inning. Like their Big League team, affectionately known as the Cubbies, they are choke artists. But they are the home team, and you can't help but root for the underdog bastards to win one.<br />
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Here we see Corwyn. It is surmised by one person that he is bored. I think he's just frustrated by the Cubbies' performance... as you'll see in the picture below, it's 7-1 at the start of the 4th inning...and the Albuquerque Isotopes are just having fun at this point, at our expense. Even their first base coach is taunting us. He constantly looking over in our general direction flashing a big stupid grin. Secretly I'm convinced he's eyeballing us specifically, rubbing in the fact that his team isn't even trying and still whipping us handily. Yes, He knows exactly who the Mook is, and how to rub him the wrong way. I would've had him assassinated by my squad of commandos, but I figure that unless it's a game that I'm physically competing in (which would've guaranteed victory for us!), that I really can't justify the sanctioned killing.<br />
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The one nice thing about the local games is that they always have a lot of little competitions in between innings. Here we see mascots for local convenience store chain Kum&Go racing from the first base line, around the infield to the third base line. The bag of chips had no chance, as the hot dog and big gulp toyed with him before giving him a playful football block to the ground before they finished together. Things like this kept Corwyn from losing interest while waiting on the ball players to get started with the inning. During the middle of the 8th inning, a lot of people had either left or were in the process of leaving. I don't know if they were leaving to get a jump on traffic or if they had lost interest in the very lopsided game. Corwyn decided to move up to the empty seats in the first row. However, his interest having already waned, decided he would be the night's entertainment for this couple sitting in row 2. They were quite amused by him, and he and the man had quite a conversation going on. I couldn't hear what was being said, but both were highly animated in their interactions. And of course, to make sure they lady was impressed with him, he made sure to show her the ways he can contort his thumbs about. Because he is Corwyn, he needs to maintain his connection to the man to show he is a full spectrum entertainer, but ultimately he's really targeting the pretty women who find themselves his very own captive audience.<br />
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The game ended after a little over 3 hours of play, with the final score being 9-1 in favor of Albuquerque. Corwyn didn't seem so interested in the outcome of the game. He was too busy amusing himself by entertaining whoever would listen...plus he had his giant pickle and gotten his own officially-used baseball. Josh seemed more interested in the outcome and had hoped for more home runs by the Cubs, and maybe a win. All in all, it was a great time. Some free seats and perks, some over-priced stadium food, and some baseball on a summer evening, spent with my boys and my girlfriend, who took these pictures for us. <br />
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My next article will follow in the next few days hopefully on my big huge landscaping project that I've almost finished with... unless I find some more excuses to keep from writing about it.<br />
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<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-64840147871110794922012-03-25T10:37:00.000-07:002012-03-25T10:37:02.367-07:00Mookified War On Terror ContinuesAs you all know, the Mookified History is a rich history of military "events" dotted throughout its existence. There were the moments of internal strife, as Colonel Beauregard Sterling (B.S.) Lovell and Corwyn aka "Buggy" went from a mere misunderstanding to a longstanding feud ala the Hatfields & McCoys. Much like the Korean War, truce rather than treaty has left the situation precarious. Anything could set off that tinderbox into an explosive all out war. <br />
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Then there was the War on Pests. Ants, and more seriously, FLEAS, had invaded the Mookified Compound, staging an insurgency that lasted over a year. Hydro-warfare, chemical warfare and other such tactics were used to almost no avail. Then after long meditation, the answer came. Now constantly you hear the GOP members trying to unseat Obama and other democrats from political power constantly channeling the late President Ronald Reagan, as if they know how he would react in situations of grave importance. However their ideological mindset has blinded them from truly hearing the message of "The Great Communicator". What most people don't realize, is that Ronald Reagan and I have communicated. From his picture with John Wayne, Dean Martin, and Bob Hope, he spoke directly to me with what will eventually become words immortalized in history: "Mr. Mook, throw down that bed-couch!" <br />
With those words of wisdom, I thusly removed the semi-permanent (it was really heavy) hide-a-bed couch, through the sliders and off the edge of my 2nd floor deck out onto the ground below. Then to the dumpster it went, and the Flea Army never returned. Once again victorious, the Mookified Compound experienced an unprecedented period of peace.<br />
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Remember that powder keg of a situation between the Colonel and Bug? Well, it heated up in a different way. Instead of direct confrontation, the Colonel sent out his hired Soldiers of Fortune (pictured below).<br />
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In a well planned swift raid, Buggy, the scourge of feline terrors, was apprehended. Here he is shown with his also captured stash of weapons used in his constant onslaught of the neighborhood.<br />
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As you can see, he was well equipped with both halves of a broken Spartan spear, plastic light machine gun, plastic revolver, police-style baton (commonly associated with random beat downs of unsuspecting civilians), a tennis ball and super compressed foam baseball (used like stun grenades, only ninja-like with their lack of explosive material).<br />
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At first reaction once being notified of this black ops mission and its result, I was hard pressed to release the prisoner. However, being a staunch supporter of ending terrorism, and the need to show our commitment, we released this photo to the general public to show how committed we are that we will take down our own. We at the Mookifed Compound have shown that we embrace the zero tolerance of terrorism, in addition to our solemn refuting of anything communism (generally defined as anything I disagree with, including the consumption of pineapple, coconut or cabbage).<br />
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It is this kind of resolve that clearly shows that World Domination (such as I have demonstrated repeatedly in the game RISK)<br />
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will be mine, despite any claims by <a href="http://becausemotherhoodsucks.com/">Selena over at Motherhood Sucks</a> in her latest blog.<br />
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<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-45830856974277631212012-03-20T17:49:00.000-07:002012-03-20T17:49:58.889-07:00Sunshine Award Winning Blog!I realize that it's been almost 2 months since my last blog. My excuse? Well, that is obvious to those that know me: I'm lazy and I procrastinate with writing even on the best of ideas. I have successfully managed to not write over 5 dozen Pulitzer Prize-winning articles. I have also managed to avoid writing best-selling children's books, psychological thrillers, and 4 well told horror stories that stand on their own as great movies, even before the gory bloodshed and CGI effects are thrown in. I have written a factional (yes, fActional, NOT fictional... the story is based on true events, but my memory is occasionally suspect) autobiography, got some of it printed off, then my old computer crashed like a junkie on a 2 week crack binge. I have yet to reintegrate it onto this electronical box of motherboards, chips, and other such technological stuff only an IT guy can truly appreciate on its most atomical level.<br />
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However, all that being said <a href="http://becausemotherhoodsucks.com/">Selena</a> over at the <a href="http://becausemotherhoodsucks.com/">Motherhood Sucks Blog</a> has nominated me for the Sunshine Award. I don't know if it is because it was National Sunshine Week, celebrating openness of government or some other such crap, and since I'm usually so open that I get the award by default or what. But hey, I take whatever credit I get from the outside world. Usually it's only me giving myself credit anyways. I have been given the responsibility of playing the game. Although given that Sunshine Week ended already, I intend to re-classify all information as soon as it's transcribed, so what you will read is most likely propagandized B.S. After all, as a self described government entity, The Mookified Compound, probably under intense scrutiny by the U.S. Government as a homegrown terrorist insurgency (The Colonel and I are huge bad asses and well on our way to becoming a nuclear power well before Iran), feels the need to protect the people (that's you) from the truth.<br />
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The rules of the Sunshine Award are as follows:<br />
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1. Include the award logo in a post or on your blog. <br />
2. Answer 10 questions about yourself. <br />
3. Nominate 10-12 other fabulous bloggers.<br />
4. Link your nominees to the post and comment on their blogs, letting them know that they have been nominated.<br />
5. Share the Love and link back to the person who nominated you .<br />
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Sunshine Awards Questions:<br />
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1. What is your favorite color? <br />
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Blue. All other colors are conspiracies by communist sympathizers, and therefore no longer are officially recognized<br />
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2. What is your favorite animal?<br />
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Koalas. What other animal looks cuddly enough for a baby to hug before ripping you to shreds with those big ass claws? And we thought all vegetarians are pussies. Well done cuddly furball of death.<br />
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3. Favorite Non-Alcoholic Drink?<br />
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COFFEE! Because without it, I'd be more apathetic towards life than a cadaver. <br />
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4. What is your favorite number? <br />
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7- because it eight 9<br />
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5. Facebook or Twitter? <br />
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I once had a facebook account. I killed it. With my bare hands. I refused to ever breathe life into twitter. Twitter can die. Feed it to a Koala.<br />
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6. What is your passion? <br />
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Sorry, the Mook is officially an emotionless creature. Passion does not compute into the Mind of Mookie<br />
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7. What is your favorite time of day?<br />
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Whatever time I might be committing suicide by exercise by playing football or basketball against kids half my age and twice my size. In case you're wondering, this overweight, out of shape, smoker usually wins the games. I just hurt a million times more in my 30s because of my warrior skills being put to use. The Force is literally killing its user. <br />
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8. Favorite day of the week? <br />
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Saturday- because I don't work, and I don't have to go to bed early for work the next day. And there are cartoons on!<br />
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9. Favorite Flower? <br />
Flowers? We don't need no stinking flowers!!!<br />
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10. Give or Get Presents?<br />
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Again, some readers know me. If you wanna give me a present, make it the present of getting me nothing. I keep saying, I don't want anything for Christmas or my birthday. But then people go screw it up and get me stuff. That's more crap to take care of. (Aunt Denise- KEEP sending the Lebkuchen and Contessa. That stuff is useful. I only have to put it away in my belly). I only give presents out because otherwise I gotta listen to a bunch of people telling me what an asshole I am...I already know this, I just don't wanna hear it.<br />
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As for nominating other fellow bloggers, both of whom I doubt will carry this on, as they blog about more important stuff than what I send them:<br />
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<a href="http://brotherpeacemaker.wordpress.com/">Brother P</a>, because while we are different in a lot of ways, he always keeps me informed on what happens on the other side of the racial coin, entertains me with his description of certain villains (usually republican in nature), and always listens to others points of view with an honest open ear. And if those points of view are completely stupid...he points that out too. Political correctness seems to be a casualty with him, and I really like that about him, even if he is a Star Trek fan.<br />
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<a href="http://scotterb.wordpress.com/">Scott</a>, the Professor from the University of Maine. He writes about all facets of life, from personal stories, to the issues of the day culturally and politically. Smart as a whip, but generally humble guy, unlike some other pompous educated asses I've run into from time to time. And with him, ANYTHING (and I mean ANYthing) can be paralleled with a song from Styx or Rush or some other band he listens to before summoning blogs into his mind and straight to the computer.Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-7006374176984050532012-01-23T14:12:00.000-08:002012-01-23T14:30:07.490-08:00Disappointing Finish To A Great Season<a href="http://media.photobucket.com/image/49ers/scottjax77/NFL Logos/00NFLNFCChampionshipGiants-49ers.png?o=5" target="_blank"><img src="http://i68.photobucket.com/albums/i24/scottjax77/NFL%20Logos/00NFLNFCChampionshipGiants-49ers.png" border="0"></a><br />
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After a great season for the San Francisco 49ers, it all came down to yesterday's NFC Championship game versus the New York Giants. It'd been almost a decade since the 49ers last saw the playoffs. Last week's exciting see-saw game against the New Orleans Saints, culminating in a last second victory, hopes for this week's game were high.<br />
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San Francisco played their usual game: A tough defense complimenting the offense that's done just enough to win games. With the number one run defense in the NFL and a spotty but effective pass defense, most people new this would be a relatively low scoring affair. The offense played it's usual game of a few flashes of brilliance in the big pass plays between Alex Smith and Vernon Davis. The rest was a grind it out offense, using Frank Gore and Kendall Hunter pounding away at the Giants' defense to keep them honest and help open up the passing game. <br />
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The Giants also posed a pretty good defensive front, that made relatively few mistakes. And of course their offense was led by Eli Manning and his trio of receivers that tend to step up when called upon. Eli of course possesses the good instincts of a great quarterback, which of course tends to be one of the big reasons the fans of any other team hate him for getting out of a bind, always in the nick of time. That's not to say that he wasn't harassed..a LOT by a bruising 49er rush, but he tended to step out of the way of danger and get the ball where it needed to go to keep the offense going. He had a lot of help from Victor Cruz, who seems to have an invisibility cloak to get that wide open short, medium and deep ranges, over and over and over. Yes the guys really freaking good, but it's not like the 49ers subbed in a pee-wee defensive backfield for the enitre game. How do they not cover him up and make plays on the ball at least 1 out of 4 times, rather than let him get open and catch the ball 5 out of 4 times. Ridiculous!<br />
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The difference was made in the realm of turnovers and special teams. Usually the 49ers are known for creating turnovers...last night was an exception. One interception was nullified by a penalty, 2 other would-be-picks were broken up, not by the Giants receivers, but by 49ers safety Dashon Goldson. The first was when he collided and almost knocked out Tarrell Brown while they simultaneously converged on one of Manning's passes. Later on, Carlos Rogers nearly had a pick before being hit by Goldson. Other than stopping the Giants on 4th and short, the 49ers created zero turnovers. And on special teams, lacking Ted Ginn, Jr., a young Kyle Williams was tasked with punt return duties.<br />
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As a faithful 49ers fan all my life, I too wanted the young man cut fromt he team, and have his hands and face stomped on. My statements were made out of frustration, but never turned into real credible threats, much less more public ones I've heard have been swirling about. The kid is young, inexperienced, and will learn. On one punt, after the ball bounced erratically, Williams made the mistake of getting in the vicinity of the ball, which hit his knee and was recovered by the Giants at 49er 30 yard line, making short work for Eli Manning to throw his 2nd touchdown pass to put the Giants up 17-14. Yes, many of us football maniacs know that if you let the ball start bouncing around you stay the hell away from the ball. If you aren't going to catch it, you run AWAY from the ball. Let the other team down it, and let your offense worry about moving the ball after that. Had he done so, the next score may have made it 17 or even 21 to 10 in facvor of the 49ers. But a rookie mistake gave a seasoned offensive veteran like Manning what he needed to change the momentum of the game.<br />
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We came back and tied the game, forcing overtime to ensue. After stopping the Giants cold for another punt and an opportunity to drive down the field for the winning score, Williams again tried to do too much, and failed to protect the ball. He fumbled on a pretty standard tackle attempt. Coaches all our lives have drilled into us, do NOT hold the ball like a loaf of bread. Protect the points, and in traffic use BOTH hands to hold on. He failed in this, lost the ball, and it was recovered again by the Giants, who went a very short distance before Lawrence Tynes kicked a very easy chip shot of a field goal to win the game.<br />
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Yes, it basically came down to the two punt return snafus by Williams, resulting in 10 points for New York, that brought the game into reach, and then ultimately decided the outcome of the game. If you need me, I'll be in mourning until next season. We had a good run this season. It wasn't always as flashy as the days of Joe Montana and Jerry Rice, but it was still good to see a consistent season. Hopefully it's the beginning of a new non-losing era for my beloved 49ers.<br />
<br />Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-17784011569711478992012-01-21T11:54:00.000-08:002012-01-23T14:13:11.041-08:00The Way Things Should Be<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFU3IZa43QEzBhsHeB4IWdFGyoz4tRAnzb5StV4X0uLZrrxXAG_h7Jsa9s07H3OutmXiVpVZGw6lbInuPgHrGNl8HKTyJy_D_zST_g39gPE-DCln1PjekHTzddsEJ2SQlv0UQyR3hn2MV2/s1600/childhood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="238" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFU3IZa43QEzBhsHeB4IWdFGyoz4tRAnzb5StV4X0uLZrrxXAG_h7Jsa9s07H3OutmXiVpVZGw6lbInuPgHrGNl8HKTyJy_D_zST_g39gPE-DCln1PjekHTzddsEJ2SQlv0UQyR3hn2MV2/s320/childhood.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Do I really need to add to this?Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8021468759553992081.post-13659338127827367082012-01-13T21:40:00.000-08:002012-01-13T21:40:54.817-08:00Life's Little ThingsSo, I've been contemplating some posts for some time now. Just NOW, I mean literally right now, I am glad I waited on one topic...only because up until right now, I was going to be wrong after discovering what I discovered. (Wow, I've exceeded my own personal standard of vaguery!)<br />
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Growing up, a lot of things can amaze you, intrigue you, and elicit all kinds of thoughts and feelings. As we get older and begin to "know everything" we are less surprised or amazed by anything. Maybe we're just too smart, too jaded, or just too cool to let anything really grab us anymore.<br />
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One instance...clovers. most of them are your average run of the mill 3 leafers, but if you look real hard, you can find the occasional 4 leaf clover. That old lucky charm, that when you find your first one, it's just soooo great, and you gotta show it off to whoever about how awesome it was that you found one. Pretty dorky right? Probably, but back then, who cares about dorky. You just found a lucky 4 leaf friggin clover!!!<br />
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On a certain parallel, take Life Cereal. Growing up, every box we ever got had AT LEAST 1 double piece. Instead of your average little squares of cereal, you got a rare 2 connected together, almost like a domino of sorts. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but I swear you could find one in EVERY box we had, and to me, this was just really friggin cool. As good as any four leaf clover in my estimation.<br />
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Fast forward some years. Every now and then I buy a box of Life...for myself...cuz I'm Mike, and I'll eat anything...so says the commercial anyways. For the past few years, I have failed to see my double piece of Life. In fact, I don't know if it was just some over reaction to the loss of some childhood nostalgia, me getting pissed about the condition of today's roads that cause the fully packed trucks to bounce and settle the crap out of my cereal and robbing me of that double piece, or what was going on. But yes, I feel so strongly about it, I was going to blog about it at some point. <br />
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And then tonight happened. I bought a box of Life yesterday, I opened it up, just prior to logging into here to write about this double piece-less travesty. I poured the cereal into my bowl, and suddenly I had to stop. My eye had caught something unusual. I sifted through the laready poured cereal until I found the anomaly. And there it was: A DOUBLE PIECE OF LIFE CEREAL!!!!!!<br />
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And yes, I am dorky enough to be highly excited about that, and just had to not only share my dorky moment, but shine a big bright spotlight on that dorkiness. And that's a big spotlight, given my roughly 875000000 regular readers. Okay, maybe there aren't that many people reading it, but if you slap the entire world's population together in one spot, and you can find one of my readers in that field, well...it's just as exciting as finding the double piece of Life or that four leaf clover...Mookiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01073027586188784701noreply@blogger.com3