As Irish As Kelly's Pig

Carol went to Ireland and all I got was this hat and drum. After consulting with many musicians, the general consensus is that I'm tone deaf and have a paralyzed vocal cord. However, I do have a molecule of rhythm (especially after two beers).

Now arthritis not withstanding, I am giving the bodran the college try. Hopefully by summer I will be able to join CP and her lively fiddle for a duet, who knows maybe if this nursing thing doesn't work out I can join River Dance.


Along with the Irish drum and hat I like to take naps with my high energy Welsh Terrier. Being the true Renaissance Man that I am, I refuse to let this Irish thing keep me from eating the Polish Perogies my Jewish sister sent me for Christmas. This year we decided to open the box marked perishable when it arrived, instead of leaving it on the counter for three days. Now that's Polish!

Summer of Love Smokey Mountain Harmonic Divergence and Moon Pie Fest

Mark your calenders, this August the Bagwan returns to the Smokey Mountains and the Plains of Tellico. August 13th to the 20th we will be dates this year (Babba Gi will be in Rome meeting with the Pope this Spring so the fourth annual conference has been moved from July). As usual the meeting will be held in a five star facility.

Quest speakers include Dr.s Diqattro & DiQuattro, the topics will include: exegetical eschatology and What Not To Wear featuring Francis Schaeffer. Music will feature Babba's bordran and Mrs. Gi's lively fiddle. Also, hopefully this years accomadtion will feature the greatly requested feature of central-air.

Space is limited so reserve early (walk-ins welcome but not preferred). Don't miss this opportunity for a time of reflection and discovery.

If I See My Friends, I'll Duck Down Under The Dashboard

Babba actually drove a third generation Prius today. I was surprised at what a substantial car it is. It felt like a rock solid mid-sized car, not like a golf-cart. It was very futuristic, especially when coming from a 93 Oldsmobile. My neighbor bought it for the gas mileage. When she compared other 40 plus mpg vehicles like the Honda Fit, the Prius won out. Now if they can just solve the problem with the pause when it switches from regular braking to dynamic braking it would be flawless.

How boring, driving is supposed to be about leaky mufflers, slipping transmissions, stuck windows and oil leaks. I'm not sure I'm ready for George Jetson's car, but I was impressed with its power, ride and refinement.

My first car, a 53 Chevrolet Bel Air (actually found in a widow's garage with 26K original miles) seems like a chariot compared to the Prius. It had 20 plus grease fittings in the front end, required an oil change every thousand miles, had tires that went flat on a weekly basis, had a 6 volt battery which the radio drained in three minutes and needed a tune up every ten thousand miles. It had a three speed transmission; at 25 mph you were in overdrive and at 50 mph it took 600 feet to stop. The steering wheel was the diameter of an extra large pizza, but you needed it to be 30 inches wide because with the king-pin steering if you didn't slow down to 10 mph you didn't make the turn.

We have come a long way from the Model T which came with a shop manual. In an urban setting with gas costing $7/gal the Prius would make sense. However, for now I'd get a Corolla and skip all complexity of a hybrid, plus at least I could change the oil in it on a rainy afternoon. It's hard to put a price on feeling useful.

Blah-Blah-Blah

I had the not so unique experience of dealing with a blowhard yesterday. What has caused the recent increase in people who feel the need to bloviate at will? Why do these people feel the need to erupt like some verbal pinata about any topic under the sun?

The best example I ever found of this phenomena is in Woody Allen's movie Annie Hall . What makes these folks just go on and on about any topic? They also suffer from Voice Modulation Disorder. They talk like they are addressing an outdoor high school commencement . Even if they sit three rows behind you in a plane they sound like they are in the next seat. Rows ten through eighteen are all privy to this font of knowledge emoting from the guy in row fifteen. The only one safe from this verbal cornucopia is the spouse that has years ago lost the ability to hear his droning.

I sometimes wonder why adult-bloviation-disorder seems to be on the increase. Perhaps:
The decrease in inhibitory neuro transmitters in the elderly (this is what makes your ninety year old aunt feel the need to describe her last bowel movement to you).
The self-esteem movement (this has taught children that every thought they have is important to a stranger).
The new social network (where people feel the need to share every headache, burp and emotion they have on a real-time basis with thousands of strangers).
The feelings of increased irrelevance in the retired (their biggest decision of the day may whether to take one or two stool-softeners).
The feelings of helplessness over the collapse of our country (they realize we are bankrupt and no longer a great nation).
The touchy-feely pop-psychology of afternoon TV (this promotes the idea that talking in and of itself is therapeutic and can solve any problem including world hunger).

I'm getting better at recognizing the blow-hard and distancing myself from their machinations. I realize that the conversation they are having has really nothing to do with me; the reason I'm there is to just silence the voice in their head. For the true bloviator the only one of any importance is himself. With the help of technology bloviation doesn't even require a warm body, they can zip down I-15 with the cell phone at their ear and their head crooked like they've had a stroke while they try to use up 5,000 minutes.

Luckily I have CP to tell me when my pomposity and voice modulation disorder surfaces. I also had a father that taught me not to be the center of attention, he would say "keep quiet so people won't know how stupid you are". It was a time before books like Raising Kids God's Way made Little Johnny think everything he said was profound.

Christmas at Obama General Hospital

Thirty one Christmas's in the hospital, what a long strange trip it's been. Unlike the mall, business is down and management is conveniently absent. Sickness and death; what a great Christmas movie theme. Death never takes a holiday, it just hits a speed bump between Christmas and New Year's. The staff gets even more psychotic for about a month. Who will work which holiday? Who has kids? Who worked last Christmas? Add to this the fear of snow and you have General Hospital on Haldol. I love it.

Adding to the usual holiday malaise are recent Obama-Care mandates. Nurses spend two thirds of their time at a computer station. Cutbacks in reimbursement have whittled down staff and equipment (more bricks without straw)and the need to compete for patients (aka customers, clients, guests, patrons, benefactors etc) like a boutique restaurant just adds to the angst. Forget all the hype, the original Christmas probably took place in March. Book-up, soon it will be January second and the holiday psychosis will be over. A new deductible year will be starting and if your lucky you won't be a patient in Obama General Hospital.

The Downside Of Shopping On-Line

Fed-Ex delivered this today. I think it's a Christmas present for me but I'm not sure. I did ask CP for an Ames grain shovel which is in fact the best snow shovel around. However, I'm not sure if Santa will bring me one; you know the economy being what it is an all. I'll just have to wait and be surprised Christmas morning!

Christmas Parade

Come on kid, hurry up, we close in five minutes!

A Pause For The Cause

Go Dottie!

Dottie hit a home run in North Carolina with her Pork Marsala.
Carol did tweek it with some beef bouillon.
Pork, mushrooms, noodles and a rich sauce; Bon appetit!

Christmas Food Court Flash Mob, Hallelujah Chorus - Must See!

And I thought malls were all about bad food and overpriced chintzy clothing.

The Left Foot Of Fellowship

The Feed and Seed is entering a float in the Christmas parade. This years theme is "Christmas Movies", and we have chosen "A Christmas Story".

We are building a forty foot float that will have on it four scenes from the movie. This year I thought I would volunteer to be Santa Claus; a character for which I am uniquely suited for by both temperament and physique. However, there is a problem. The town says the only Santa allowed is the one at the end of the parade. I'm not sure if this is meant to keep the children from running into the road or perhaps they may be emotionally traumatized by seeing two Santa's in one block. Now my theatrical debut has been stymied. It looks like Babba-Santa will be hidden away in a little cottage, with only his right foot appearing to push little Ralphie down the slide. Let me see here, my only line (Ho-Ho-Ho) has been cut and my costume reduced to a red pant leg and black boot. All I can say is this is a a big step down from my usual church Christmas part as one of the Wise-Guys.

Bottom Falls Out Of The Flock-Market

We don't go nuts with Christmas decorations. In fact the large wreath that hangs over our garage came with the house. It was on the house when we bought it in July. In the last few years we spruced it up with lights and ribbons. However, the giant wreath is looking a little rough. The original white flocking is sort of a muddy brown. It looks like somebody came out of IHOP and threw up on it.

I went to four stores looking for a spray can of polyurethane snow and I can't find it anywhere. All they have is this sissy-pansy stuff called SNOW that is only for indoor use on glass. I bet the EPA had something to do with it.

So what are my options? I have some white lacquer left over from touching up Marianne's bumper-car. A little paint and some Rice-Krispies should work. The problem is a new neighbor who decorated for Halloween like it was Christmas and has decorated for Christmas like his home is Rockefeller Center.

I have finished my tax free Amazon.Com Christmas Shopping. North Carolina sued Amazon for lost sales tax revenue and lost the case. The states are just itching to get their greedy teeth into the inter-net so they can bankrupt that last bastion of free enterprise.

The only problem I have with Amazon is reading the reviews. Ninety per cent of people rave about a product and give it five stars and ten percent of the people give it one star and say it's the biggest P.O.S. they ever purchased. Some of the product reviews are moronic.

"I've had this lap top for two hours and so far its very dependable."
"This coffee maker keeps shutting off after two hours."
"I love my seven inch notebook computer, but the keyboard is small."

I usually look for at least four stars with a nice mix of reviews. If you see something with a five star review it probably from a singular customer whose item hasn't been delivered yet.

Average Customer Rating 3.7 out of 5 stars (216 customer reviews)Why go schlepping around? Just read the inane reviews! 5 star: (104) 4 star: (38) 3 star: (17) 2 star: (17) 1 star: (40)