Some assembly required...

Inspired by Storing Your Emergency Supplies by Peter Grant, the Bayou Renaissance Man, and needing some shelving for my basement in the worst way imaginable, I ordered three sets from Amazon.  Here's a review of the good and the bad.

Whatever happened to...

For reasons that even I can't comprehend, I decided to start some 'way past due maintenance on the list of sites that I read.  I started by deleting sites that are no longer with us, or that have fallen into complete disuse.  Which led me to the topic of this post: Whatever happened to (name of the site)?

Here's an exhaustive list, along with the reasons that the site slid into the electronic junkyard:


A Tenderfoot in Tombstone
No real reason given, just no news.  Too bad, as I enjoyed the author's writing.

Beat and Release, Charleston Thuglife, and Garro's Games.
All these sites were blogs from the same man, whose name may or may not be Garro.  He seemed to be doing pretty well, then just dropped off the Internet without warning.  I never met him in person, but I liked him and I hope he's doing well.

Full Metal Patriot
No real reason given, the blog just died out.

HistoryMike
I happen to know History Mike, who really does teach college level history.  He tends to bite off more than he can comfortably masticate, which is what happened here.

Hooda Thunkit
Hooda just vanished one day.

Northwest
Nothing to see here, and I do mean nothing.

Stephanie M. Loree
I suspect that the blog was sacrificed due to work and family.  Stephanie is a professional writer / editor, and the last I knew she was doing well.

Graveyard Dog
I was sorry to see the Dog stop posting, as he was a very entertaining police read.

The P.O.P. Factor
Again, just faded away, although there may have been mitigating factors.

Thurber's Thoughts
The author, Maggie Thurber, is alive and well in Toledo, Ohio.  I suspect she got tired of writing a conservative blog and getting screamed at by SJWs and similar pests.

If anyone knows what happened to any of the bloggers or what they're doing now, please don't hesitate to comment.  Thanks!

News... from Columbus, Ohio

I finally managed to get an account opened at a local credit union, although I now wish I'd chosen some other facility.  Wright-Patt Credit Union has the lowest rates on services, which is easy to understand because the service you, the customer, are privileged to receive from Wright-Patt makes the DMV look good by comparison.  I sat in the lobby for half and hour listening to the paint on the walls dry before some mouth breathing idiot took me into the back and, 45 minutes later, I had a nice, new checking account and a savings account, and not a red cent in either one.  The oh-so-eager-to-please management put a ten-working-day hold on the checks I deposited, in spite of the fact that both were from a Columbus bank.

I went to lunch to try and cheer myself up a little, and when I get back to my car, what do I find?

Bastards!!!

The meter maid gave me a ticket for not having a license plate on the front of my car.  My car lacks a bracket for a front plate, and I haven't wanted to screw the thing up by putting a plate on the grill.  Plus, I now have an extra plate, so if mine ever gets stolen I'm not completely out of luck.
By the way, the meter still had 40 minutes left on it.

Fifty simolians it's going to cost me to pay this off.  That seems like a lot of scratch for such a minor violation.

Little prick.  I hope he tries to hump a woman who moves, and he humps a cactus instead.

So last night I hit the sack around 11:00 PM.  I've been working on the basement most of the day, my lower back and shoulders are killing me, and I'm tired.  At 11:05 I was really sawing the old wood, really copping the Zs, so at 2:00 in the AM, what happens?

Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! 

Likely there were six shots, but I missed the first.  The shots sounded like a .38, and they sounded close.  I looked out the window.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  Not even a light going on.

I went back to bed, and ten minutes later I was sawing the old wood again.

This afternoon I called the Columbus Police, trying to be civic minded and all, and reported shots fired.  The lady that answered the phone told me that they couldn't do anything about it now, too much time had passed, I should have called immediately, yada yada yada.  I apologized for bothering the police.  I thought someone would at least take a report, but not a chance.

And that's the latest.

Happy Mother's Day 2017

Happy Mother's Day to all those nice ladies out there who, against all odds, managed to raise us from infants into whatever we are now.  I remember one mother commenting, "You'd think by the time they hit 35 they wouldn't need you anymore, but..."

"But" indeed.  Every so often we, the great unwashed deplorable men of this world, encounter a problem that only another woman will understand, and only Mom is willing to explain.  Such is the penalty for having a mother who will raise a little boy to become a man, that is, a male.  It ain't easy, but it can be done.

Thanks Mom, and to all the other mothers out there, for all your patience and perseverance.

New Hate Mail

I got some unexpected hate mail today, or hate comment to be more precise.  I couldn't understand how this person tracked down a post written some five years ago.

The Publishing Game

With the advent of the Kindle and Amazon's advertising, the publishing world has been turned on its ear.  Traditional publishers are likened to dinosaurs uneasily watching the sheen of ice that forms on the swamp every morning and wondering if maybe they should consider relocation to a spot closer to the equator - about a one day lumbering walk south of home sweet home.

Eats, Shoots, and Leaves: The Departure

I took a few photos of the old homestead on my way out.  I spent a good portion of my life here, and although the place has changed a bit over time, it's still the old homestead.

The Old Homestead

Back in the bad old days we had ten acres between my paternal grandparents who lived next door and my family.  About an acre of that land had to be mowed once a week, and that included trimming around the trees.  The only job I despised more than mowing the lawn was shoveling the snow, which I had to do for both houses.  I think I should mention that I have exercise induced bronchial asthma, and the winter air felt like a handful of razor blades had gotten loose inside my lungs.

Quora Question: How did dancing start?

I subscribed to Quora some years back.  I can't remember why I did this, and I probably didn't know then.  I don't let things like this bother me.

Most questions on Quora are stupid beyond repair; about one in a hundred is worth reading, and that's on a good day.  I'm a little bored today, so when I got this question as asked by some nameless genius, I decided to knock out an answer.  Here we go:

How did dancing start?

Dancing started six million years ago, give or take a hundred thou, when Og broke a bicuspid on his evening meal (Ranga-Tanga Bird on a spit), and in a fit of rage started pounding the food substance with a rock.  Imitating his (we suppose) father for no particularly good reason, his son Foj picked up two sticks and pounded them together, simultaneously inventing the claves and providing a back beat.  Lacking a noisemaker and the wit to use it, Og’s wife Bog jumped to her feet and started hopping around in time to the racket, losing most of her saber tooth tiger skin in the process.  Then when Og’s neighbor Steg offered Bog a clam to lose the rest of the skin, dancing, the strip tease, and the jealous husband were all invented at the same time.

And that's how dancing started.

Eats, Shoots, and Leaves: The Shoot

As most of you know, I'm relocating to Columbus, Ohio from my home in Sylvania Township, Ohio.  My official sayonara, so long, farewell, goodbye and good riddance celebratory shoot was on Saturday, May 6th.  A few people from the local message board Toledo Talk showed up.  My thanks to Trilby, Solleks, and Solleks's Wife, Hot Stuff, all of whom made this a memorable occasion.

Inside the Mind of a Liberal

This is a bit long winded, but unless I set the stage and the characters nothing I write will make any sense.