Cuss-tomer (dis)Service Revisisted

Clue by four to ALL retailers:

DO NOT PUT YOUR SLOWEST FRAKING CHECKER IN THE "10 (or 15 or 20) ITEMS OR LESS LESS LANE!!!!

It is supposed to be the "Speedy" or "Quick" or WTF ever lane.

Dammit, get with the program.

The So-Called Experts

Experts are those that know everything there is to know in a chosen field.

Yet, they tell us we learn from our mistakes.

So, does that mean that experts have simply learned everything from their mistakes?

Therefore, experts are nothing more than monumental failures.

Preaching from a Moral Swamp

I recently read a very interesting article about alcoholism and alcoholics. The article was not just about alcoholics, but dealt with anyone that had an addictive personality and how they dealt with those around them.

One of the ways that someone with an addictive personality will deal with their condition is by finding another person whose character is beyond reproach, someone with high moral and ethical standards, and then do everything they can to tear this person down. That way the addictive personality can feel better about themselves.

The basic thought proces of the addictive personality is that if the person with the high moral standards can fail, then they, the addictive personality, aren't as bad as everyone else must think. It gives the addictive personality justification for their actions.

So instead of dealing with their own problems, they create problems for others.

"That which we obtain too easily..."

"... we esteem too lightly." -- Thomas Paine

Truer words could not be spoken. In today's world of instant gratification and fast, loose relationships, it seems we have lost our appreciation for the things that really matter.

The Bible tells us that, "...the laborer is worthy of his reward," adding weight to Paine's thoughts. If we wish to gain a great reward, we must put forth great labor to achieve it.

Unfortunately, there are those that, in today's ADD world, have neither the motivation nor fortitude to even make the necessary attempt at something that would even seem to be difficult.

Then there are those naysayers that would discourage the laborer, or worse, those that actively resist their efforts.

I wonder what their reward shall be?

Up(land) a Creek without a paddle....

Need I say more?

Maybe I should pay a visit and have a brief tryst for old times sake. I mean, come on, we were dating for so long, right?

Maybe a prophetic quote from the book of Dan(iel), "Cut down the tree and trim off its branches..."

I will play the role of the lumberjack, the tree is coming down, I won't even bother with the branches.

Putting your head in the noose...

Hmmmm...

There are those that think they are being so sophisticated and smart, yet they really don't understand that in the age of the Internet, everything is out there for public viewing.

I read a book recently that had the following line, "If your word is worthless, so are you."

Truer words could not be spoken.

Seems there is an abundance of worthless people in this world.

Pulling my head out of the noose

How does one let things get so complicated? Is a condemnation of the world that we live in that we allow fear and intimidation dictate the way we live our lives?

I, for one, am tired of it all. When fear immobilizes our actions and clouds our judgement, then fear and the fearmongers have won.

I'm tired of being afraid...

Sunday Evening Musings

Spending the afternoon at the neighbor's house, drinking beer and playing football, watching the children swim in the pool, what could be better, right?

Something you don't hear every day,"... you're going to have trouble sucking something as little as that..."

This was in reference to siphoning gas, I swear!!

I found that running into a mud puddle while running a pattern in a football game has an hilarious outcome, that being the would-be receiver falling flat on his face, in said mud puddle.

Did you know that a twenty-pound dog sheds more than enough fur in just a few minutes to clog up the average bathtub?

The Spinning has Slowed

The last few days have been a whirlwind. Compress the death and subsequent memorial service of a dear friend's son, a major fundraiser for the FD, and a new car purchase into the space of only four days and you'll understand what my life has been like recently. It's like the world decided to spin even faster than normal.

Hopefully the rest of the summer will be at a more relaxed pace.

Please disregard my earlier post about frustration...

... because I now know an even greater sense of frustration.

It's the frustration borne of knowing a very dear friend is suffering an irreconcilable loss and there is little-to-nothing I can do about it, aside from just being there for her and her family and offering my prayers and support.

It makes not being able to buy the car you wanted pale in comparison.

The Art of Frustration

Monday morning, I submit the requisite paperwork to the stealership to begin the process of purchasing my new car. Monday afternoon, they call and tell me I'm approved on the car I wanted.

So Tuesday morning I spend over an hour removing all my FD related equipment such as the emergency lights, siren, and radio. That afternoon I drive to the stealership to complete the paperwork.

That's when things go downhill. I know my credit isn't perfect, having discharge bankruptcy back in 2004, but it's been spotless since then. I wasn't expecting a great interest rate, but I also wasn't expecting the raping they were planning. I unequivocally refuse to pay 20% interest on a car note.

So I still have my truck and I'm still looking.

If patience is a virtue, frustration is an art.

Shoot First, Ask Questions Later

Well, after staring down two bullets with regards to my truck, it seems I again have the gun pointed squarely at me. Checking the transmission fluid doesn't bring forth the normal bright red hue ,especially after having changed the filter and fluid only a week ago, but rather a grayish substance. That is NOT a good sign!!! You can actually feel the grit if you rub it between your fingers.

So before I find myself attempting to dodge (no pun intended) yet another round, I'm going to strike pre-emptively and trade in the truck. I've got my eyes set on a brand new Kia Sorrento SUV. Tomorrow morning will find me waiting impatiently at the stealership to go through all the motions necessary to make it mine.

Wish me luck and if I don't return by nightfall, send out search parties.

Mutually Assured Destruction

The other night, being incredibly bored, I was flipping through the myriad channels that my sattelite company offers when I came across a program on the Military Channel. They were discussing the Cold War between the US and the Soviet Union. Most of it dealt with how both nations fought this war primarily through intermediaries, such as Cuba and Viet Nam, but there was one really interesting part about what was, and is, known as MAD - Mutually Assured Destruction.

MAD was both a good and bad thing. Good in that it prevented World War III on many occassions and bad in that the world lived under the specter of a nuclear holocaust. MAD was the presumption that if one nation launched nuclear weapons, the other would retaliate in kind, setting off a global nuclear war that neither would survive.

New intelligence paints a slightly different picture. It seems that the majority of the Soviet missiles were aimed at US allies in Europe, while nearly all of the US missiles were aimed at the heart of the USSR: Moscow, Leningrad, Stalingrad, etc. So while the US would have remained fairly untouched, the Soviet Union would have sustained massive damage.

So, in retrospect, it seems Mutually Assured Destruction was not quite mutual, nor was it assured.

Staring Down a Bullet

Twice in the last week or so, the specter of expensive car repairs has once again raised its ugly head, only to be easily vanquished.

First, the front-end started making grinding noises again. The knee-jerk reaction was to assume that the newly replaced hub bearing was going out. Further inspection showed that the lugnuts had loosened, allowing the rotor to wobble slightly and drag against the brake pads. Tightening the lugnuts stopped the grinding noise.

Then on Friday, the transmission decides it doesn't want to shift properly, often going into neutral instead of the correct gear. I envision thousands of dollars in repair bill, money that I really don't have and surely don't want to spend. I decided to take a huge gamble and change the fluid and filter, thinking that it probably won't work but holding out hope that it does.

And guess what? It works. The transmission is now shifting correctly.

So two near misses in a little over a week. With the way my luck is going, maybe I should be sure and buy a lottery ticket.

What is Normal?

Who decides where we draw that fine line between sanity and insanity? Between reality and fantasy? If reality is based upon perception, then everyone perceives his or her own little reality.Can we say that our reality is any more real than someone else’s? Who decides what reality is? If we say that reality is what the majority of people accept as real, then in a sense there is no true reality but only a series of accepted norms. What if the majority is wrong about our perceptions and our vision of reality is completely false? Then those who we judge insane are really those who are sane and we are living in a fantasy.

No one can be completely sane. One hundred percent sanity would force a person to deal with this world in all its uncut, raw form without any of our built-in escape mechanisms. Sensory overload and mass confusion would soon result, forcing the person over the brink into complete insanity. Therefore, Sanity-Insanity cannot be measured upon a linear continuum but rather is truly circular in nature, with the difference between complete sanity and insanity separated by only the slimmest of margins, yet there is the whole area of the rest of the circle representing the varying degrees of sanity-insanity. Taken to its logical (?) conclusion then, all of us are insane in varying degrees. Each person has different facets of their personality that deals with life’s daily ups and downs. We compartmentalize our feelings and emotions into each of these variations on our personality, yet we retain enough sanity to realize that these personalities cannot be separated from the whole. Those suffering from multiple personality disorder cannot retain enough sanity to hold these facets together and the seam is torn and the versions of the personality become personalities unto themselves.

Somewhere along this circular continuum that defines sanity-insanity is a line that society has proscribed as the “acceptable” line of sanity. If the True line of sanity lies at the point described earlier where one hundred percent sanity meets one hundred percent insanity, then society’s acceptable line is one hundred eighty degrees opposite of this true line. That is, we draw a line somewhere where our senses tell us someone has gone too far towards insanity on this circular continuum. If society’s vision of sanity-insanity is the exact opposite of what is real, then everyone is society is actually delusional…

After the Storm

Well, the downpour has stopped and life has returned to some semblance of normal, at least "normal" for me.

Someone stole money out of my bank account, but there's not a thing I can do about it. The price of auto parts today amounts to nothing more than highway robbery and I have indeed been robbed. But the good news is that my truck is up and running again and I was fortunate enough to be able to do all of the work myself, or the theft would have been even greater.

I've got only eight days of school left, with the last two days being early release days. As much as the students look forward to the summer, the teachers are even more anxious. By the end of May, I'm as close to the brink of insanity as I'd ever want to get and desperately need those two months off to regain my senses.

When it rains...

... it pours.

First, it was the brakes going out. Fixed that Friday evening, only to have a wheel bearing fail this morning. This is a part that no auto parts store within a hundred-mile radius carries. Several have offered to order the part, but it will be at least two days before it arrives. Great, just great.

So I'm stuck without a vehicle. In some cities, that's not a problem, but in Texas, it's almost impossible to go about your daily life without one.

Sitting by the dock of the bay...

... watching the sun fade away, wasting time.

Good beer, good magaritas, good food, good company, and a good (sort of) view.

Slight disappointment that there were no oysters on the half shell, but they did have really good calamari and a lobster bisque...

... and then I woke up.

Sometimes our lives imitate our dreams and vice-versa.

Lawnmowers in the Attic

It was a lazy Sunday, one perfect for taking a nice, long nap. Of course, Sunday afternoons are also perfect for mowing the lawn, so it didn't surprise me to hear the sound of a lawnmower engine running, disturbing me from my sleep.

Until I realized that the sound was coming from my attic...

Whiskey?

Tango?

Foxtrot?

My first thought was, "How in the hell did someone manage to get a lawnmower into my attic without me knowing?"

My second thought was, "There's no grass in the attic, what the hell are they mowing?"

I grudgingly arose to try and decipher the origins of this rather odd noise. I pull the access ladder down and the noise becomes louder. The lawnmower, or whatever, is definitely runnning in the attic.

The prime suspect is the central A/C unit, which is not a good proposition in Texas in May. Then my eyes wandered to the A/C intake. "Hmmmm, when was the last time I changed the filter?"

A closer inspection confirmed that it had been "a very long while" because it was incredibly dirty. I surmised that the lawnmower sound was caused by the A/C intake vibrating as it tried to suck air through this dirty filter.

Five minutes later, after turning off the A/C and replacing the filter, the lawnmower was gone. Till the next time I don't replace the A/C filter...

Hate Me

Great song by a band from Houston. Exceptional lyrics, far beyond what I would expect from today's music scene.

And it sums it all up... trying to push someone away because that is what's best for them. How many of us believe that we are cursed, that our touch is the anti-Midas touch? How everything we come into contact with is doomed to fail? So we push people away so they won't get hurt... or maybe we push people away so that we won't get hurt. We desperately avoid taking another chance because it's simply not worth the pain in the end.

Humans wage war against others because we wage war within ourselves. There's the part of us that we love pitted against the part of us that we hate. And we transfer all that we hate to someone else so that we don't have to look too hard at ourselves. We hate others because we hate ourselves, and, in essence, we make the whole world our scapegoats for our own inadequacies.

Flat-Iron Steak

OMFG!!! I have found steak heaven. Yesterday, I walk into the local Kroger because they had ribeye steaks on sale. I notice that they have something called a "flat-iron steak" also on sale. The SIL asks me what exactly was a flat-iron steak, and I had to confess that I, the veritable human encyclopedia, had no clue. But I decide to take a chance and buy a few anyway.

Today I throw them on the grill along with a couple of ribeyes. Grilled over mesquite to a perfect medium rare and... OMG... the best steak I've EVER had.

Incredibly tender with amazing flavor. Better than any ribeye, filet, or sirloin.

Now I've just got to get back to Kroger and purchase the rest of their stock.

Remember the Name

Anyone that knows me, knows I can't stand rap music. My theory is that they simply took the "C" off the front when they named it. Anyway, I recently heard a rap song with a chorus that summed up the life of a firefighter better than I've ever heard. So I decided to put it on a photo and create a t-shirt. The t-shirts can be found at Cafe Press.

When you have nothing to say...

I know, imagine me without anything to say. Hear that ringing, it's Baelzebub calling and his teeth are chattering.

Like a train wreck

Amazing, even though there are those that will complain about content, there are others that will visit to see the carnage.

The FD website normally averages 150 or so page views a day. This Wednesday, it had nearly 1500 page hits, with another 850 or so on Thursday, followed by over 400 on both Friday and Saturday.

As someone so graciously pointed out, if there's only one complaint and that many visitors, I guess I'm doing more right than wrong.

Some people all of the time...

.. and all people some of the time.

P.T. Barnum is quoted as saying that about fooling people. I believe that it applies to pleasing people as well. I've gotten a lot of grief from several different parties about photos I've posted on the FDs website from several incidents in the past several weeks.

I don't know if people realize that I agonize over each and every photo that is posted, trying to balance showing the jobs the guys do with respect for the feelings of those involved. Somehow, no matter what I do, I can't seem to please anyone.

I'm almost to the point that I feel the easiest solution would be to just pull the website entirely...

Information Overload

Modern communication devices have made our lives both easier... and more annoying.

In emergency services, the advent of the cellphone has allowed incidents to be reported faster, allowing necessary care to arrive critical minutes earlier. But it has also meant an increase in what we in the emergency services field have termed "BS calls." Those are calls that really aren't an emergency, but were reported by someone with a cellphone who couldn't be bothered to take several minutes of their precious time to investigate before calling in something.

Like being called to a report of a fire, often dispatched as "seeing flames" or "a glow in the sky", only to discover it's some farmer burning his field or a brush pile. A few minutes investigation would save an emergency response by a quarter-of-a-million-dollar engine and volunteers that have been roused from their beds for nothing. We do have jobs we have to go to in the morning, remember?

The sister-in-law advocates "cube technology", as in a small cube of C4 explosive placed in every cellphone headset. When someone called in a "BS call", dispatch could dial back and eliminate this annoying problem.

But it's not just that. Sometimes you simply can't get away from the annoying ring of a phone. I mean, $h!t, it's got to where if I don't answer my cellphone, people will try calling the house phone, then text message me. This is especially annoying when you're trying to take a nap because you didn't get enough sleep the night before because you were up making "BS calls".

April Fools... or not

Well, yesterday I was going to write this nice long post, somehow related to April Fool's Day, but before I knew it, the day had passed. It was an absolute whirlwind, with two MVAs, fun at the station while we cooked burgers, and a trip to buy supplies for the FD as well as pick up my son.

Fatality MVAs are never fun, but sometimes you just get the sense that the man upstairs or karma or whatever is indeed paying attention and occassionally gently nudges things to try and bring this crazy world back into balance.

I do know that not eating breakfast or lunch and then responding to a MVA with extrication in the hot Texas sun is a guaranteed way to produce sub-optimal results.

Pancakes with Peanut Butter and Honey...

... and other guilty pleasures, like fresh ground single-estate coffee. Or cuddling up with someone on a Saturday morning and listening to the rain on the roof, knowing that for once in a long time, you have absolutely NOTHING planned.

Speaking of peanut butter, following the latest scare, the supply of peanut butter at the local grocery store is looking very slim. I actually happened to have one of the jars with the code that was part of the recall, so I had to go get a new jar. I tried something new: Scudder's All-Natural, Old-Fashioned Peanut Butter. It reminded me of the peanut butter that the government used to give to needy families, having to stir it every time you used it because the peanut oil would rise to the top.

Remembering that peanut butter brought back memories.

My mom would volunteer for that program, helping with the distribution of those government handouts, and would occasionally bring home some of the leftovers. The cheese that everyone would rave about but I hated (American cheese, bleagh... cheese should not be sweet, give me extra sharp cheddar any day), the peanut butter, rice, beans, the canned beef and pork that, mixed with barbecue sauce in a skillet, made a decent quick and easy barbecue sandwich, and, of course, the real butter.

That was my first introduction to real butter. Up till then, we always had margarine and just called it butter. It's almost like finding out that what you've been calling mayonnaise is really Miracle Whip.

Which is one reason that you won't find margarine OR Miracle Whip in my refrigerator...

The Week and Weekend from Hell

This week, and particularly this weekend, has been... well, just wow!!!

Not to say I didn't have fun and enjoy everything that went on, but anytime you HAVE to sleep for fourteen hours solid just to recover and then take a nap in the afternoon because you are still tired... well, I think that says it all.

Something tells me the name "the Hell Hole" has more to it than meets the eye.

Sadistic Homosexual Ex-Convicts

This weekend, I had the pleasure of attending Extrication Fest 2007 at Texas Motor Speedway. I learned quite a bit about extrication, especially stabilization methods, that I didn't already know. On top of that, I got to spend three nights in Denton, where I had lived for eight years, re-visiting old haunts and dining spots that I hadn't seen in three years.

But about the title...

I'm sure that's what all of you have been waiting for anyway.

I stayed at the LaQuinta in Denton and it was a nice motel. Except for the bathroom. Particularly the shower.

First off, the control to turn the water on and off and adjust the temperature is decidely phallic in appearance. On top of this, for an average height male, this decidely phallic-appearing device is mounted about six inches below waist level. Yes, at THAT height.

Then, to top it off, the shower floor has a very marked slant, enough to cause one to lose their balance should they bend over after having dropped the soap.

What then ensues comes from someone's prison rape nightmare.

Thank God I am slightly SHORTER than the average male...

Never believe someone when they say...

Yesterday, my brother the fire chief has me take the engine and the tanker to the radio shop, telling me it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours.

He couldn't have been more wrong...

We arrive a little after 8:30 and finally leave a little after 18:00. Needless to say, that is slightly longer than two hours. To make matters worse, the radio that was installed in the engine did not work as advertised.

But I did get to talk to someone I'd never really had the chance to talk with, so it wasn't a completely wasted day.

Someone please stop the madness

At first it was e-mail. The insanity-inducing "Forward to seven of your closest friends..." e-mails that cluttered my inbox and illicited an immediate click of the delete button.

Or the jokes that would be forwarded to me from one person, when a quick look at recipients from a prior forward would show THAT I'D ALREADY GOTTEN IT!!!!

Now it is pic and text messages on my cellphone. Suddenly the whole frackin' world seems to think that I have nothing better to do than to read asinine text and or pic messages.

Please stop, NOW!!! I'm getting two and three pic messages a frackin' day, all at $0.50 a pop. In the space of a week I'm being charged enough for these unwanted messages that I could go buy a six-pack of beer, which would do a heck of a lot more to brighten my mood than the messages ever could.

This public service message has been brought to you buy PRICK.... People Rejecting In-box Cluttering Krap.

And God said, "Let there be light..." (Deja Vu, anyone?)

... and there was light. Light beer that is.

In an effort to try and play along with the local coven of Weight Witches, I've decided to show support by switching to light beer.

This is not as easy as it sounds. Most light beer, to paraphrase Terry Gilliam, tastes like nearly-frozen gnat's urine. Luckily, Sam Adam's Light is readily available at the local grocery store.

Is it a great beer?

No, it will never be mistaken for a regular Sam Adam's or a Leinenkugel's. It doesn't compare to the wonderful stuff that comes out of the Ram Brewery or from the little town in south Texas.

But at least it isn't nearly-frozen gnat's urine...

My fifteen minutes...

Last night the FD is toned to an unknown-type fire. I arrive on location to find it is actually a structure fire that is in the decay stages. The engine arrives and the guys go about doing what firefighters do best (next to police officer's wives, hee hee), put the wet stuff on the red stuff.

Fifteen minutes later one of the guys comes up to me, we have a problem... there's a body in the trailer. Turns out it is a relative of someone who is relatively famous.

So I've spent a good bit of today fielding questions from various media sources and even had to do a video interview. Isn't it great to be the PIO? I actually jokingly asked last night if I could resign. After today I wish I hadn't been joking...

Things I have learned this week

1. The average teenager has less manners than the average five-year old.

2. An ant is smarter than most teenagers.

3. The average metal office desk is a lot tougher than the average big toe, even when wearing tactical duty boots.

4. Fires love to occur during your lunch break.

5. The average person doesn't think that just because it is dry and windy that there is any reason that they shouldn't burn leaves, etc.

6. The average firefighter thinks the average person is an idiot because of this.

7. If what you say can be interpreted two different ways, and one is bad, that is the way it will be interpreted.

8. No matter what, someone will mis-interpret what you say.

9. The ability to sue someone is FAR too easy in this country.

10. Just threatening to sue someone for an asinine reason should be considered a death-penalty offense.

Oh wait, I already knew all of those. I guess this week just offered me a glaring reminder of the painfully obvious.

Goodbye Miss Manners

Growing up, I was taught, nearly had it beaten in to me, that as a child you were to stay quiet while an adult was speaking. God forbid that I would interrupt one of my parents or another adult while they were talking. I would have been picking myself up off the floor.

Somehow between my childhood days and today, that lesson has clearly been forgotten. I lose count of how many times a day that I, as a teacher, have to stop my lecture and tell the students to be quiet.

So who is to blame? Is it parents, elementary school teachers, or society as a whole? I have my theory, but no one is going to like it. It's difficult knowing that the cause of the problems that vex society lies squarely with the person staring back from the mirror.

Being sick

Today I had the notable privilege of being both physically ill and being called a sick f@#$ at the same time.

I woke up this morning running to the toilet and spent the rest of the day doing the same. I was either sitting on it or kneeling in front of it, in between taking several hot baths in a losing attempt to begin to feel better.

I checked my temperature several times, and yes, I did have a fever.

So that seals it: fever, chills, aching joints, puking, and diarhhea. I think I covered just about all the bases.

I check my e-mail and someone has posted a comment for one of the videos the FD has on YouTube. That's where getting called a sick f@#$ comes in. Seems they didn't appreciate the video of a recent vehicle extrication. No victim faces were shown and the accident wasn't even a fatality, so I have no clue where this person was coming from. Oh well, I reported the post as spam...

This on top of being threatened with a lawsuit for a photo I posted on the TVFD website last week.

I guess the 'tards are out in droves. Is it that time of month again?

The Art of Delayed Gratification

Ok, so Amazon is having a sale on Lodge cast-iron cookware and the cook in me is absolutely salivating over the possibilities while my analytical financial mind works feverishly to reign the cook in.

I had the 3-qt. chicken fryer, the 5-qt. dutch oven, and the 10-1/4" skillet in my shopping cart and was halfway through checkout when the analytical side put on the brakes.

The cook attempted to compromise. I went back to the cart and took out two items, leaving only the chicken fryer and proceeded once again to checkout.

Once again, the finance guru intervened, reminding me how I'm trying to pay down the credit cards to $0 and buying more items isn't helping. The cook pitched a fit, telling the finance guy to take a long walk off of a short pier and asking him just how he thought he was going to eat. The finance side said it didn't appear that we were exactly starving, did it?

I resented that comment, but had to agree he was right.

So I closed out the window without purchasing anything.

Till next time...

I'll Never Understand Some People's Viewing Habits

About two months ago, I decided as webmaster of my FDs website (www.tarkingtonvfd.com) to join thousands of others and post videos on YouTube. I've posted over twenty videos ranging from training exercises to live fires to a year-in-review video. Of all those videos, some of which are from some amazing fires, which one do you think would be the most viewed?

The cool shot from the 75 foot aerial overlooking the Hell Hole at Livingston? Nope...

The video of the vehicle fire training? Once again, nada...

Maybe it could be the LifeFlight helicopter taking off? Wrong again...

Nope, the most watched video, and by a very large margin, is of me responding to a call only to be disregarded before I even get near the location. A little less than three minutes worth of me driving with my lights and siren on, only to stop and turn around. In fact, I only pass one car.

And it is the most viewed video.

The only thing I can figure is that these are the same people whose only other entertainment is sitting around watching paint dry.

Texas Weather

You know, you've just got to love Texas weather. Walk out of the house this morning wondering if my decision to wear a sweatshirt was a bad one, then leave work wishing I had brought a jacket.

Sunny and warm one day, cold and rainy the next.

It's a wonder more Texans don't suffer from the flu or worse...

Make hay while the sun shines...

...because tomorrow it might rain.

Or your barn full of hay could burn to the ground.

Steaks just off the grill, about to sit down for a great meal, and... you would know it, the pager goes off. Structure fire. Great.

I can see the smoke from my house, not a good sign. Hay barn full of hay, fully involved. Looks like it might be awhile before I get back to those steaks. FD makes a great response, four apparatus and fourteen firefighters. You really can't put one of these out, so we extinguish the perimeter and let it burn. Not much else you can do.

Oh, and the steaks were wonderful, if I may say so myself...

The Realities of Not Doing Your Homework

Not me, the teen-age son.

First major bump in the road comes when I'm checking his grades and see that he has a single-digit average in Speech. How in the hell do you get a grade like that in Speech, for Pete's sake? I do some checking and he didn't turn in a major assignment for a grade. I ask him about it and he tells me the teacher won't accept it late. Tough... do it anyway and give it to her. If she doesn't accept it, at least you did it.

Talk to the teacher and she says she will accept it. Ask him later and he claims she just handed it back to him. Hmmmm....

Does he really think that I, a teacher, don't talk to the other teachers? If he did, he got a rude awakening when I had dinner with three fellow teachers at a local restaurant later on in the evening...

I did learn that when a certain teacher says she's bringin Millie with her, be prepared to duck.

"And God said, 'LET THERE BE LIGHT!!!..."

... and, by God, there was light.

Last night, the FD's engine returned from the shop, having had a light tower installed over the last two days. Now for those that might not know what a light tower is, it is a bank of six high-intensity lights that can automatically raise and extend up to eight feet over the cab of the truck. Think of it as portable stadium lighting.

And these ARE that bright. They can turn pitch-black night into day in an instant, and that's not exaggerating. They are a complete order of magnitude brighter than the old lights that were on the truck. No more wandering around in semi-darkness, trying to do our jobs.

The thing can even auto-park itself, so it is nearly completely foolproof...

"A common mistake that people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools." -- Douglas Adams

Just because there's a fire...

... doesn't mean you HAVE to call the fire department.

Sometime after midnight, the FD is dispatched to an unknown-type fire. Units arrive on location to find it is nothing more than a large trash pile on fire. The area around it has been cleared and is very wet, there is no wind, and the whole surrounding area is water-logged after two weeks of near-continuous precipitation. This fire is not out of control and is not going anywhere.

We decide not to worry about putting it out. It is freezing and it would take several hours and several truck loads of water to put out what is essentially a harmless fire. I stick around for better than an hour just to make sure it burns down before heading to the house. I'm not home more than thirty minutes when we are dispatched yet again.

So why was it reported? Better yet, why was it reported a second time two hours later?

I guess the drunks coming home at three in the morning have nothing better to do...

Week One of My Journey Into Insanity

Well, changes are being felt as Buford and I adjust to a new permanent presence in the house. My son has been with me for a week now and things seem to be going fairly well. After his first week of school, he seems to have integrated well. He's made several new friends and even has a girl that wants him to ask her out. So I guess he's doing well. I've gotten him a new cellphone and a new TV.

Things are settling into a nice routine. Mornings aren't the hassle that I had feared, neither is homework... at least not yet.

So, fortunately, it seems my journey is stuck in the slow lane.

The only thing certain is change

Well, life as I know is about to completely change.

My fourteen- (soon to be fifteen-) year old son is moving in with me, for the first time. My emotions are running the gamut from excited to nervous to cautious to...

Care-free and independent will be replaced by who knows what.

But it will all be for the better, in the long run if nothing else. Things happen for a reason. Right? Right?

anew third-degree burn

However, I feel that even here there are many differences of opinion on what is absolutely correct and what is not. Terry Tate office linebackerYour booting storiesLast viewed:The Play and Highlights - BYU Football Beats UtahMark your scriptures onlineInternet Shopping with Local Pickup in UtahQuoty - del. You can learn this quite easily within a couple of hours of practicing on your ownarms. As to the astonishing number of shampoos and conditioners currently on the market, a lot of them are sheer nonsense.
" He was quite frank about how MTV makes money off impressionable young people, he even said as much during his speech to students. So even if most of the programming is garbage, the few times that important stories get covered they get seen by millions of young people, and can have a positive effect.
I have set up a forum and will work on the pages soon. This seems to affect women more than men for obvious thanks to anatomical differences between men and women.

The non-sensical rambling above was brought to you by one of the mindless morons that invade my e-mail with spam. I am positive that there is a special place in the depths of hell reserved for these people.

Seriously...

Whiskey...

Tango...

Foxtrot?

Military Maneuvers in the Dark

Today I ventured south of the DMZ on a semi-covert mission to evacuate the younger version of myself back to his homeland. H-hour was a depressingly early 04:45. Well, depressingly early for me anyway.

After battling the mindless drones that pass for drivers in the foreign land known as Houston, I finally managed to make it to the LZ. The lines were long, but that was to be expected. I watched him go through the security checks and then that was it...

Three months from now I engage in the same mission to bring him back to the country.

Can I go home now?

Last night was HELL!!!

The madness started at 22:50 and carried over till 5:00 this morning. Three calls, back-to-back.

Finally to bed at 5:00, but had to be up at the station at Noon to train the rookies.

As Yoda would say, "Hmmmm... tired must you be, young Padawan."

The Day After...

Every child of the 80s remembers the TV mini-series "The Day After," which chroniciled life after a nuclear exchange between the the US and the USSR. Scary stuff indeed for those of us who went through puberty in the age of MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction).

And then there is the day after Xmas...

It's even worse.

God bless those poor, innocent.... and even retarded, souls that venture forth to the malls and to WM on this day.

Does anyone see a future Darwin Award recipient in the crowd?

Fall down, go boom!!!

Well, it has returned. The mysterious explosions reported by dozens, but with a cause no one can find. Those who've heard, and felt, the explosions describe it as rattling their windows, if not the whole house.

So the FD is dispatched and we run around like chickens with no heads. The worst is that these always occur very late at night, rousing me from my warm bed. I swear, if I ever find the culprit, the outcome will not be for the squeamish.

So what is the cause? No one is really sure. Sonic boom, maybe? Sparkler bomb? Who knows....

An ode to bier...

"He was a wise man who invented beer."
-Plato

"An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools."
-For Whom the Bell Tolls, Ernest Hemmingway

The spelling in the title is intentional. I had the good fortune of purchasing a case of Leinenkugel's at the local Sam's. Now Leinie's are not generally available so far south, here in the "Land of Shiner," so to be able to find it and at a decent price was an incredible stroke of good fortune.

I've heard a lot of good things about Leinie's and the opinions were very well founded. This particular case was a sampler of four different kinds, the Sunset Wheat, Creamy Dark, Red, and Honey Weiss. All were very good.

"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."
-Benjamin Franklin

I'll drink to that...

A day well spent...

It doesn't get much better than strolling through the mall, arm in arm with the one you love, or sitting down with them and eating truly wonderful sushi. Now I could have done without the crowds and the traffic, but all considered, it was more than a fair trade.

Sometimes we rush through life so quickly, we forget what it is truly important. It's times like those that we need to just stop and smell the coffee... and eat pumpkin cheesecake.

Sometimes a word is all it takes...

Today was not a good day. Semester exams always seem to bring out the worst in students and this time around was no different. Apathy run rampant is the modus operandi for these kids. They just don't care. Parents always seem to bail them out of the predicaments they get themselves into and teachers always seem to cave and give in... till now.

I hate playing the bad guy, but who else will prepare them for the "real" world?

Anyway, it's enough to drive one to drink. It's frustrating and depressing. Thankfully, someone let me know that I'm doing a great job and that they think the world of me.

And just like that, my day brightened...

Blognosing

Well, my good friend Kerry Hoke mentioned on his MySpace page the new phenomenon known as blognosing. Never heard of it, you say. Well neither had I till Kerry Hoke told me about it. Seems it is the act of sucking up to someone in hopes of being mentioned on their blog.

At least that's what Kerry Hoke said it meant...

Truer words have not been spoken

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe. -- Albert Einstein

Let me get out the hip waders and the shovel...

... because the $h!t is really starting to get deep in here.

How can it be that someone can complain when an organization holds a banquet to honor its volunteers for sacrificing themselves so selflessly throughout the year? Those volunteers received prizes donated by various local and non-local organizations, and yet there are complaints by those who assume (remember the old saying about ASS and U and ME?) that the organization spent money on those prizes. This is the one of the few times that they are honored by their peers for the job they do; and yet some people will find fault in that.

How is it that someone can criticize an organization and its leadership, failing to see the amazing strides that organization has made and continues to make? Why is it that they fail to see the positive and yet accentuate the negative?

Why is it that some people cannot seem to separate a person's private life from their public? Once again they assume that somehow they are related and that one will affect the other.

Why do some people seemed destined to live in the past, refusing to accept the present, much less the future? Those people dredge up old accusations. that had no merit in the past, and pass those off as gospel truth, poisoning fresh minds with their bile.

How easy is it to hide behind a veil of anonymity, criticizing and dividing, offering nothing constructive?

For some, all too easy...

Why dogs are better than...

The ex-wife once complained that I would pet the dog before I would hug and kiss her when I came home in the evening. I replied that it was because the dog would meet me at the door with its tail wagging, happy to see me. The ex-wife waited on the couch for me to come to her.

Tonight I noticed how Buford reacted when I would give him the slightest attention. Just looking his way set his tail to wagging with anticipation that he might get a short tummy rub. Dogs live simply to be with we humans, no matter how un-deserving we might be.

Maybe we humans could learn something from dogs...

Chilly outside, Chili in

There's nothing like cold weather to pave the way for making one of the greatest culinary masterpieces known to man: Texas chili. Nothing else made is truly chili, especially if it hails from anywhere north of the Red River, particulary the city in Ohio named for a legendary Roman.

My chili is nicknamed Dalton's Intestinal Destroyer Chili. That name is given as a badge of honor and respect. Any chili that doesn't clear out your bowels is not truly chili.

Chili should not be watery. It should have plenty of beef, chunks of tomato, bell peppers, and onions. It should have finely chopped jalapeno peppers. Beans are optional, as is rice (yes, Louisiana is close by).

So tonight's dinner was scrumptious; tomorrow will be painful...

Purchasing Sin in Bulk

Saturday is my re-stock the fridge day, so of to Wally-World I go. Drifting by the refrigerated dessert section and what do I see? You guessed it -- Pumpkin Pecan Praline Pie. On sale.

So I bought five...

Hey, it was all that they had.

It's Deja Vu all over again...

Saturday morning, 8:30AM... heavy fog... MVA...

Haven't we seen this before... next verse, same as the first?

This Saturday started exactly the same as last, with the exception of this call wasn't in our territory and it wasn't on fire, AND we weren't out on the call till after Noon.

Hopefully, that's all we have day...

Sodom and Gomorrah in my kitchen

Pumpkin Praline Cream Cheese Pie.

Decadence defined.

That is all...

Into the Fire

by Bruce Springsteen

The sky was falling and streaked with blood
I heard you calling me, then you disappeared into the dust
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

You gave your love to see, in fields of red and autumn brown
You gave your love to me and lay your young body down
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need you near, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

It was dark, too dark to see, you held me in the light you gave
You lay your hand on me
Then walked into the darkness of your smoky grave
Up the stairs, into the fire
Up the stairs, into the fire
I need your kiss, but love and duty called you someplace higher
Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

May your love bring us love

The Fall of the Roman Empire

I posted the exact same post below to the forum section of an online community of which I have been a member for over five years. I don't know what type of response I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting to be attacked. I was called naive, stupid, and a racist. The FD was accused of using "strong-arm tactics" to "guilt" people into donating.

Words fail me.

Then I realized that the problem lies in the way I perceive the world with the way these people perceive the world. I don't know if it is a generational, regional, idealogical, or socio-economic issue.

Or maybe it's just me. A good friend is constantly telling me that I'm the world's last true Boy Scout. I prefer to think of myself as the heir to Cincinnatus, willing to abandon my fields, throw on my cloak, and go off to fight just because Rome needs me. I'm not trying to be a hero, just doing my civic duty.

Many historians point to a decline in the average Roman's views on civic duty as one of the reasons for the fall of the Empire.

What does that say about where we're headed...

A Fair Trade Proposal for Mexico

Since you seem so intent on shipping most of your citizenry to the US, I think it's only fair that you take a portion of our citizenry into Mexico. I propose two groups, the criminal drug addicts (which only makes sense, since Mexico is their prime supplier) and the typical yuppy scum that blights our landscape with their smug smile, sipping cappacinos, and driving their BMWs, Acuras, or SUVs.

Why do you ask am I so indisposed towards yuppies? Well, I just spent the last two days doing a fundraiser for the VFD of which I am an officer and member. This fundraiser is a simple fill-the-bucket at the only four-way stop in the area. Nothing major, people drive by, roll down their window, and drop whatever they feel appropriate into the bucket. We've gotten everything from a handful of pennies to a hundred-dollar bill to a diamond ring.

Why do this type of fundraiser and not others, you may ask? First, it is easy to organize and requires little manpower. Second, the amount of money it raises per hour is quite good. And third, 75% of all MVAs in our district involve out-of-towners. Our department is not supported by a city or any type of taxing authority. Instead, we rely on a per-run contract with the county and on donations. So fundraisers like this are very important.

Anyway, as I worked this fundraiser, I noticed something that began to grate on me the longer the fundraiser lasted. I noticed that your average working-man or woman, no matter their ethnicity, were donating at a much higher percentage than those who, by appearances, seemed to be much better off financially.

In fact, it was so bad that it was surprising when someone driving a BMW, Acura, Cadillac, any upscale SUV, etc. would donate. Most would stare straight ahead, pretend not to notice that we were even there (hard to ignore the big red trucks with flashing lights), and drive on.

Someday, somewhere, they are going to need the services of a VFD and I hope they remember all the times they didn't donate. Moreover, I hope that the VFD is actually able to respond quickly and not be held back because of lack of funds because pricks like themselves wouldn't donate.

RETARD ALERT!!! RETARD ALERT!!!

So I'm at the gas station last night, filling up the Dodge (Damned Old Dad's Gas Eater, for sure!!), when I smell the unmistakeable odor of cigarette smoke. I look around and notice the guy on the other side of the pump smoking. The following exchange occured.

"Ummm... would you please step way over there if you're going to smoke."

"No, I'm fine"

"It's not you that I'm worried about. If you want to blow yourself up, be my guest, just don't take me with you. Now please step away from the pump."

"No, really... I'm fine..."

You know, you just can't fix stupid.....

CSI: Houston

You've gotta love Texas!!! Where else would you have mosquitos that could be mistaken for wasps, plus be mowing the lawn, in the middle of November?

But I really do love this state. Watching CSI last night on the Tivo made me so glad I live here and not some pseudo-communist state. You see, on CSI (which is set in Las Vegas... I thought Nevada was fairly conservative, but I guess it's just too close to the People's Republic of Kalifornia) they were having a coroner's inquest for one of the CSIs who ran over a young, black man who was part of a gang "fanny-stomping" some poor guy to death.

Whiskey?

Tango?

Foxtrot?

I can just see how this would have played out in Texas.

Judge: "Lemme git this straight. CSI Tanner, you observed the victim as part of a mob that was beating an innocent civilian to death, who then picked up a large rock to finish the job, but instead ran at your vehicle weilding the rock when you tried to stop him."

CSI Tanner: "Yes, sir."

Judge: "And you only hit him once, correct?"

CSI Tanner: "Yes, sir."

Judge: "You didn't back over him, run him over two or three times, didya?"

CSI Tanner: "No, sir."

Judge: "Then why the hell are we here?!?! Case dismissed!!!"

Sometime during this inquest, some young liberal smart-@$$ young man who is part of the jury steps up and says, "I just want to know when it became OK to run over young, black men in the street?"

Once again, I can see what would've happened in Texas.

Judge: "Bailiff, could you kindly escort this young punk out of my courtroom and into the back alley and beat the livin' $h!t out of him so he'll know what police brutality really is the next time he sees it!!"

Gotta love Texas justice....

The Joy of Teaching, Reloaded

The last week has been that wonderful time of year that every teacher enjoys: the last week of a grading period. At my school, this would be the end of a six-weeks grading period. It absolutely mystifies me that students that could care less for five weeks about their grades are all-of-a-sudden very, very interested.

More amazing is that it is up to me to pass them. In their minds, it's not their responsibility whether they pass or fail, it's mine. So it comes as a major shock to them when they realize the truth.

Every year I start by telling my students to not expect me to bail them out when they've fracked off for five weeks, that there is no extra credit, and that I will not let them turn in all that work that they never did just so they can pass. I sometimes feel like I'm the only teacher that stands by their policy of refusing to accept late work.

It was so bad that I actually had a student tell me, "No wonder everyone hates you!!"

Wow, that's the problem right there. They're under the mistaken belief that I got into this profession to make friends....

Winged Attack Stinging Pests, Part II

With all the recent flooding, this area of East Texas is now being subjected to the scourge of scourges. Yes dear friends, the mosquito.

Now, I'm now talking about your average Minnesota mosquito. Nope, everything is bigger in Texas and these are the size of a small hummingbird. I'm even afraid to let Buford go out at night for fear they might cart him off, even as paunchy as he is.

And there are literally hundreds of them. I've lived in this area for over thirty years and I've never seen swarms this bad. The only upside is that since they are so large, you can actually feel them land on you and can swat 'em before they bite.

Thank God for small miracles...

Burn baby, burn!!

Saturday morning, the FD and I hosted a training seminar for a couple of area FDs. This seminar included both classroom presentation and hands-on "live" burns. Now, in the interest of safety and to teach proper ventilation and extinguishing methods, the fires didn't really get that hot. This prompted a member from another FD to comment about it not being hot enough.

Mistake.

Big mistake.

Just for the record, not one was injured, but at least one fire helmet came out a little worse for wear.

But the good news is that we established a new level of camaraderie and trust amongst the various firefighters there. And when your life and the lives of others is on the line, that can be very, very important.

X-Mas Wish List

The ex-wife once commented as to the reason that I was so very difficult to shop for with regards to X-mas gifts, in that I didn't wait around for someone to give me a gift, if I saw something I liked, I bought it right then and there.

So, in a remarkable show of self-restraint and taking into consideration the feelings of those around me, I didn't purchase several items this week. There was a nice Bluetooth presentation remote on Overstock.com that I had in my cart but let slip away, along with a 1000tc sheet-set. Then there was that nifty little 3MP retro-look digital camera at WM (I believe it was made by Philips and was less than $70... hint, hint). However, I did buy the new laptop computer from Dell, but that was too expensive to be a X-mas gift.

Buford just chimed in that he'd like a few chew toys, the spoiled-rotten little pooch...

The Clueless or Worse...

I recently got an e-mail letting me know that someone had posted a comment in the Fire Department's website guestbook. I log in and check it out and just have to laugh.

Once again, an attack against me and my family, telling how terrible my family has been to the Department and how everything would be so much better if my brother and I weren't Chief and Assistant Chief, respectively.

Obviously, this person has either never been in the Department and is just ignorant, or is and ex-member and, in addition to having some residual anger, is a complete idiot.

In December 2004, in what can be described best as a palace coup, my brother was voted out as Chief and the then Assistant Chief voted in as Chief. Ten months later, this person was removed not only from office, but from the Department entirely. In ten short months the Department went from being caught up on its bills to being several months behind on bills, with the threat of repossession of the engine on the horizon. All-in-all, we were over $25,000 behind on our payments.

So this person was removed and my brother was asked to take the reigns once again. Now, a year after his resuming control, all of those bills have been paid and the Department is not only completely caught up, but is several months ahead. In addition, the Department has purchased twelve new sets of SCBA with spare bottles, five new pagers, and ten new handhelds. We sent three firefighters to Texas A&M over the summer, something we didn't do last year because we didn't have the funds. We have recently received word that we have been awarded two grants, one for wildland gear and another for a new tanker.

But my family screws the Department over, if you listen to the ignorant...

Thank God for DSL!!

Digital Subscriber Line, you pervs, not the other kind!!!

One of the biggest sacrifices moving back from Denton was saying goodbye to my 1.5Mbps cable modem and saying hello to good ole dial-up. Yep, we were still in the Dark Ages here in this little part of East Texas. To make matters worse, it seemed like everyone around me could get DSL EXCEPT for me.

That ended yesteday. After months of constantly checking SBC's, then ATT's, website, last Friday I finally got the message I'd been hoping for: that DSL was finally available at my home. I placed my order and waited, rather impatiently I might add.

Yesterday all of the necessary equipment showed up. Now, they weren't supposed to activate the line till tomorrow, but I thought, "What the hell," and hooked it up. All the lights were green and we were a go.

So I type this from my much faster internet connection. No more waiting for minutes for pages to load, it's done in the blink of an eye.

Life is good...

Frackin'

OK, I'm sure that there are those of you that wonder where that term comes from. Well, if you has to ask, it is because you are simply not cool enough, not hip enough, and dare I say, not intelligent enough to watch the best drama, as well as the best written show, on television today...

Battlestar Galactica

Wipe that smirk off your face before I march over there and kick your frackin' @$$.

That's right, Battlestar Galactica.

Forget the cheesy, Star Wars ripoff from the '70s. This is the new, re-imagined series that is light-years (no pun intended... no wait, maybe it was) above and beyond that old show. Seriously, it is as good as, if not better than 24 or Lost or ER. Really, really good.

You owe it to yourself to watch...

Suicide Girls

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100-Proof of Forget-it-All

Well, for those of you who don't know me that well, I'm an aspiring songwriter. I don't know what it is, the idea will pop into my head, words will flow, and a song emerges. Some of the songs can be really good, at least according to friends and family.

Well, tonight I had a whole bunch of people over for dinner, and after they left, these words just popped into my head. Now all of you amateur (or even professional, damned though you may well be) psychologists out there, don't try to read anything into this. It's just a song.

100-Proof of Forget-It-All

Well it’s too late for conversation
Too early to go home
Too late to shoot a game of pool
Guess I sit here all alone

Got a bottle in front of me
To help me forget the pain
I’ll get so drunk that I can’t see
Maybe even forget your name

Chorus
Well it’s 100-proof of forget-it-all
I’ve got here in my hand
Sometimes when it gets too hard
It helps me to understand

How a woman could just walk away
Leave me here to cry
It takes 100-proof of forget-it-all
Just to help me get by.

No, I really don’t want to dance
Don’t care to two-step or waltz.
It’s just too soon for another chance
Scared of running into a wall.

Now this bottle in front of me
Is the one thing I can count on
Too erase every memory
Make it easy to be strong

Chorus
Well it’s 100-proof of forget-it-all
I’ve got here in my hand
Sometimes when it gets too hard
It helps me to understand

How a woman could just walk away
Leave me here to cry
It takes 100-proof of forget-it-all
Just to help me get by.


Let me know what you think. Also, if you ever hear it on the radio, let me know. We'll split the royalties....

The Art of Customer Dis-service

OK, I'm tired of every other company out there whining about losing out to the dreaded evil empire that is Wal-Mart. Wake-up morons, you're not going to beat WM on price, their economies of scale are just too enormous, so you need to beat them elsewhere, like customer service.

That's what I like about WM: if you buy something and there is something wrong with it, you can take it back. No questions asked.

My SIL bought some snow crab legs on sale at a major, nation-wide chain supermarket. Now these crab legs were in a box, and when she got home and removed them from the box, it was obvious that they weren't any good. They smelled VERY bad. So she calls the store and they tell her, "no problem, just bring 'em back with your receipt."

Now you have to understand, we live out in the country where the closest one of these stores is a good thirty minute drive. Today, I was heading into the Houston area to do some shopping on my own and planned on stopping by one of these stores to buy the same crab legs, steaks, and beer. So she gives me the package she wanted returned and the receipt and asked if I'd return them for her.

Not a problem.

Till I got to the store, that is. There, I am informed that since they were not purchased at that particular store, they couldn't be returned there, the SIL would have to return them to the store from which they were purchased.

Whiskey...

Tango...

Foxtrot?!?!?!

Did I mention that at WM, it doesn't matter at which store you purchase an item, ANY WM will accept the return. This national chain supermarket doesn't do that. BAM!!! They just lost the customer service battle in my opinion.

I walked out of the store, without buying crab legs, steaks, or beer, an app. $50 to $75 in lost sales for them. More to the point, it'll be a snowy day in Texas in July before I shop at that chain again.

The Joy of Teaching

Teaching comes with a lot of nice little perks, like having summers off. Another perk is being able to see and/or participate in the latest fads that are sweeping the school. This week, the latest fad was a nasty little stomach virus. Several of my students got caught up in it, as did several members of my family. Last night, I had the honor of participating.

Last night was so much fun. First came the explosive diarrhea. Countless trips back and forth to the toilet. Right now, Charmin Super-Quilted Ultra whatever still feels like 40-grit sandpaper.

Then, as if I wasn't already having enough fun, around 2:30AM, my stomach decided right then would be a good time to expel all of its contents. I would rather go through a root canal sans anesthesia than vomit, so this was a particular treat.

But that didn't stop the diarrhea... nope, that would have cut into my enjoyment. All night I lay in bed, catching slight catnaps, awaiting the next round of turbulence in my gastro-intestinal tract. The only comfortable position was on my back, so this morning all my limbs are stiff and sore.

I just remembered why I hate following the latest fads...

Cursed blinking red light

So I awaken thirty minutes early this morning and Buford is letting me know in no uncertain terms that he needs to go out NOW!! So I get up and decide to start my day a little early.

I shave and shower and start cooking sausage and eggs for breakfast. It's been nice and chilly outside for the past several days, so a nice fresh cup of coffee sounded wonderful. While I love coffee, I really don't like to drink it when it's hot outside, but when the temps drop...

Anyway, so I fill up the reservoir and pop a fresh pod in. See, I've got one of those single cup coffeemakers that my dear SIL gave to me as a gift. Wonderful device for someone who only ever drinks a cup at a time. So I set it up and press the power button and... the little red light is blinking instead of being solid. Pressing the other buttons doesn't start the process of giving me hot caffeinated goodnes either, curses!!! I check the whole contraption over to see if something wasn't securely latched, but everything looks good. Of course, I've no clue where the owner's manual is, so I couldn't tell you what the blinking red light really means.

So no coffee for me. If someone hears of a teacher going beserk at a local school later on today... well... you can't say you weren't warned.

A Fire I Can't Put Out

Yesterday the pager goes off dispatching the neighboring department to a structure fire at the very fringes of their territory, which is on the other side of their territory from my department. They request aid from the next closest department and go on location advising that they have a double-wide manufactured home heavily-involved. They don't request any additional help, so I figure they've got it under control.

An hour later and still no request for help, I decide it is probably safe to start cooking dinner. Probably is the key word here. No sooner is dinner ready than they request our assistance. Karma and fate and whatever else can just kiss my...

Anyway, we roll our engine and four firefighters to assist, thinking that after an hour, the fire is in the basic "mop-up" stage. We couldn't have been more wrong. We arrive to find all four wall still standing with heavy smoke and fire coming from the roof. This is nearly two hours after the fire was initially dispatched. Oh... and did I mention this was a manufactured home.

The fire had gotten between the ceiling and the roof, which is a space of no more than six inches on this particular home, and had ignited the insulation. I've been a firefighter for over twenty years and I've NEVER seen a fire this stubborn. Finally, after fighting the fire for nearly five hours, we finally managed to get it out.

A manufactured home on fire for nearly five hours and all four walls were still standing. Figure that one out...

Hey!!! Where'd the road go?

Two posts in one day... I know, Beelzebub's teeth must be chattering.

Anyway, last night the fire department was dispatched to a report of a brush fire down in the river bottoms. The chief responds in his truck and I send a captain and a firefighter in the booster, then respond in the engine with three other firefighters. Routine little fire, no problem....

Until we get about halfway there. Dispatch informs us that there was some mis-communication and that it is actually a structure fire. Ooopppsss....

So we now have a slightly different scenario. Instead of staging at the entrance to the bottoms for water supply, I now have to go all the way to the scene. This means I have to go down roads, well I guess you could call them roads, I've seen pig trails that were better developed, that I'd just as soon not put a 30,000+ pound engine down. At least I'm not in the tanker...

We arrive on location to find that the house was being demolished, but whoever was doing the work just little the rubble on fire and left. Not smart considering the dry conditions. So we put it out. At least it gave my rookies some hose time.

Winged Attack Stinging Pests

This past weekend, while attempting to mow my lawn, I was stung by some unknown creature on my back. Luckily, I keep a pouch of chewing tobacco in the freezer for just such an emergency, so I ran into the house and moistened some under the faucet (no way am I putting that vile stuff in my mouth) and placed it on the affected area. I took two Benadryl and two ibuprofen and went back to work, never figuring out what it was that stung me or from where it came.

Until today.

I check my mail this afternoon after I arrived home from work. No sooner did I open the mailbox door then... BAM!!! BAM!!! One hit to the left arm, another to the right, with a third buzzing furiously about my head and chest. I back quickly away, hoping to avoid a third sting. Fortunately, the little b@$t@rd didn't feel like pursuing.

So I head into the house and administer treatment. I then plotted my revenge. Since I didn't feel like replacing the mailbox, using the flamethrower was out, but I do always keep a can of wasp and hornet spray in my truck. So I retrieve said can and quickly dispatch the offending insects to wherever they go in the afterlife. Probably to hell to terrorize the damned.

Now I wait for the Benadryl to kick in and take me off to la-la land...

Working on Labor Day

Well, for the record, as a teacher I had Labor Day off with regards to my paying job. But as usual, this means that I spent it at my non-paying job. The FD held a fire apparatus and equipment expo, with several manufacturer reps showing up to show off their newest toys. While not a resounding success, it does give us something to build off of next year.

So I was out in the sun all day. I look like a raccoon where my sunglasses were, the white standing out against the red. That'll teach me to wear sunscreen next time. Right now I'm tired and ready to call it a night so I can be ready for my paying job tomorrow.

Don't Touch my Willie!!

There are certain songst that just should not be played on the radio when you are driving. I remember getting a speeding ticket once while jamming out to "Eye of the Tiger." It was the song's fault, I swear...

So I'm listening to the radio driving home when this song comes on the radio. It talks about a girl coming over wearing a low-cut dress and carrying a bottle of wine. Somewhere in there she starts rummaging through the singer's album collection and starts to play "Red-headed Stranger." That's when I almost lost it. The chorus exhorts the girl not to touch his Willie. Talk about double entendre. I started laughing so hard I almost ran off the road.

Anyway, here's the full lyrics for your amusement:
She showed up at my house at half past nine
In a low-cut dress with a bottle of wine
She said this will be a night you won't forget

She poured us some drinks to get us into the mood
I reached for the lights, she reached for my tunes
She pulled out that Red Headed Stranger, I stood up and said

Don't touch my Willie
I don't know you that well
Help yourself to some Haggard or some Jones
Hell, or anybody else
I don't know what you heard
I ain't that kind of guy
Yeah so don't touch my Willie,
We'll get a long just fine

She said she never met a man like me in her life
Who wouldn't share his Willie on the very first night
I said it's nothing personal, don't take it so hard

I don't pull out my Willie for just anyone
There's a lot of other records that you can choose from
So let me make myself clear before you go too far

Don't touch my Willie
I don't know you that well
Help yourself to some Haggard or some Jones
Hell, or anybody else
I don't know what you heard
I ain't that kind of guy
Yeah so don't touch my Willie,
We'll get a long just fine

Keep your hands off my Willie,
We'll get along just fine

That's some funny $h!t, I don't care who you are...

Iron Chef is me

Well, I spent the vast majority of the weekend engaged in culinary pursuits. Last night I tried out a new recipe for Peach-Rosemary Chicken which turned out to be VERY tasty. Today, I grilled steaks for lunch and while I had the fire going, barbequed some country-style ribs. I had put a dry rub on both the steaks and ribs last night, so they were definitely ready to go. At least now I've got my meals for the next week planned out. That's the key to bachelor living... planning.

All in all, a very lazy Sunday. I'm going to top it off with a football game (GO TEXANS!!!) and maybe some Xbox. It's good to be king!!

Of Frogs...

I was thinking today, do you know what the only thing that is guaranteed to happen when a frog jumps?

He's going to land on his ass...

Great wisdom in that.

Then there's the old biker saying, "Keeping your mouth shut is the best way to keep from swallowing something nasty." They were talking about flies and other insects, but it applies to life in general.

Hmmm... frogs and flies. Anyone see a pattern?

The difference between men and boys...

... is the size of their toys.

Last week, my ancient, decrepit pushmower finally decided to give up the ghost. I can't complain much, seeing as how it was nearly ten years old and cost less than $100 when I bought it. And it has mowed a ton of grass. Truth be told, I was secretly wishing for its demise. It was a basic, side-discharge, 3.5HP B&S push mower. My inner Tim "The Toolman" Taylor was screaming for something more.

Anyway, midway through mowing the lawn last Saturday, it died and refused to start. I cleaned out the carb and checked the plug and ignition, but nothing worked. A moment of sadness followed by "YIPEEE!!!"

I now could go buy a new mower with a clear conscious. So on Sunday morning I went to the big blue national-chain home improvement store and purchased my new toy. Self-propelled, bag, mulch, or side-discharge, 5.5HP Honda-powered goodness. Aaarghh, Aaarghh, Aaargh!!!

This morning I got to put it through its paces. The Honda starts so much easier and is MUCH quieter than the B&S. The self-propel works like a charm and there was nothing that could bog this thing down. It just flat out mowed circles around the old mower, as well it should, considering it cost three times as much. I finished in a lot less time and wasn't nearly as tired. There's something to be said for just walking behind the mower while it pulls itself along versus having to provide the locomotive force yourself.

Is it a sign of insanity that I almost (ALMOST) can't wait for the grass to grow so I can mow again?

Ya got two ears and one mouth...

... don't cha think ya oughta listen twice as much as ya talk."

My grandpa used to say that to me. It's amazing that as I've grown older, I begin to realize the truth and wisdom in the things my grandpa, grandma, mom, and dad used to tell me. I truly wish I knew half as much now as I thought I knew when I was sixteen.

I also wish I'd taken his advice and listened a lot more than I'd talked all those years ago.

Wax on, Wax off

"Uurrrkkk......Uuuurrrkkkk.....Uuurrrkkkkk...."

That was the sound that awakened me this morning. The unmistakable sound of a dog trying to heave. At least Buford was on the floor this time and didn't heave in the bed!!! I jumped up and hurriedly ushered him outside but it was too late. Great, now I've got to clean up dog puke. What a way to start a Sunday!!!

So now that I'm up at 8:00AM, I figure I might as well do something. Sunday is my day to clean house; it lets me start the week out fresh, so to speak. So I vaccuum and mop and wash the sheets and clean the kitchen and bathrooms. By 10:00, I'm done.

So I start to clean my truck. I vacuumed and wiped-down the inside and washed and waxed the exterior. That truck looks REALLY GOOD when it's cleaned up.

I finished just before 13:00, so now it's time to post my blog and take a nap. I may play some NCAA Football 2005 on the Xbox.

I owe, I owe... so it's off to work I go....

"The Reason I Work: A Short Essay"

by Me


I like to eat.

The End.


So my near-idyllic summer vacation has wound down to a close and I am forced to once again perform the duties that garner me a paycheck. Once more into a classroom full of shiny, happy faces ripe with promise, only to have that promise castrated by apathy. Not ignorance... apathy. Students today don't care and they want everything given to them on a silver platter. The ideals that made America the world's greatest nation, that hard-work and perseverance can accomplish anything, are dead to the upcoming generations.

And who is to blame? Parents, teachers, media, politicians, peers... even the students themselves. Every one of them shares responsibility, but the only ones being held accountable are the teachers.

Scary, isn't it.

Well then, why isn't it "stoply" force?

I finally got around to doing something that I've been wanting to do for years. No, it isn't having sex with Jennifer Aniston. It's taking a concealed handgun class.

Ya' see, in the Republic of Texas, with the proper training and license, you are allowed to carry a handgun on your person. Which solidifies my opinion that we have the stupidest criminals in the world here. I mean, would you attack someone knowing that there is the possibility that they are armed? I wouldn't, but then again, I'm neither stupid nor a criminal.

Most of the stuff I already knew, but there was some good information on it. Though the educated person in me chuckled at the question about the purpose of using deadly force. Contrary to what you might think, it is not to kill someone, but rather to stop them from committing their life-threatening action.

Wait a second!!! "Deadly" force. As in making someone dead. As in killing them. Not stopping them, killing them. If I wanted to just stop them... well, I wouldn't call it deadly force, I'd call it something else.

Anyway, part of the class is going to the gun range and testing your proficiency with handguns. Just so you'd know, I did pass. The weapon I was given to use was a Smith & Wesson 9mm. Pretty nice double-action semi-auto that fit my hand fairly well. Not as well as my old Browning Hi-Power, but the Browning did have Pachmayr grips. I've always thought that I'd go back to a Hi-Power when I bought another handgun, but I might have to check out the S&W. That or a Sig, but sure as hell not a Glock. No "tactical Tupperware" for me, I really don't trust a gun without a hammer.

Anyway, that was my Saturday. I've spent today sitting on my @$$, trying to relax one last time before I have to go back to work on Wednesday.

One of the things they did teach us at the class was that school employees are not allowed to carry a gun on school premises. Well duh!!! There's a reason for that, trust me...

The Monkey on my Back

It's my son's fault. He said it was harmless, that "everyone" was doing it. I thought, "what the hell, I'm an adult," that I could try just a little and walk away. No harm, no foul.

But I couldn't. I tried going cold turkey, but I just couldn't.

So I broke down and ordered one. An Xbox. An Xbox with NCAA Football 2005.

It was waiting at the door when I came back from lunch. Great Italian food with a hot blonde, what better way to spend lunch. But I digress...

My fix was there, waiting for me when I arrived home. I quickly opened the box and hooked up all the cables. I then spent the next hour creating my team and players.

I was ready to play.

So I pick the team I want to go against and get ready. It goes through all the pre-game activities and then..... it stops. I get an error message telling me the disc is dirty or damaged. I take it out, but see no bad scratches or anything that could be causing the error. I clean it carefully and put it back in and go through the procedures again to start the game. Same error. I do this several times to no avail.

So now I've got my Xbox, but the game won't work. My fix is right there but I can't use it....

NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

My Give-A-Damn is Busted

I'm guessing that the realization that my summer vacation ends in less than a week and that in less than two, I'll be staring at a whole new crop of shiny, happy faces ready to spend the next ten months in constant whine-mode....

Well, let's just say that my tolerance for idiots is at an all-time low.

Throw in on top of that my still-ongoing struggles with a certain satellite TV company. When all this started, I had a DVR receiver that I wanted to use. However, I needed a new access card, which most of you know took a lot of hair-pulling and teeth-gnashing to acquire. During this time, the install tech comes out not once, but twice. The second time he installs a regular receive because I STILL HADN'T GOTTEN THE ACCESS CARD!!!

So now that my access card has been received and installed, I no longer have use for the regular receiver, so I call to have them come get it. After several attempts at getting the limited-English-speaking flunkie on the phone to understand what it was I needed to have done, he then transfers me (yet again) to another department.

Or at least he was s'posed to transfer me.

I never made it.

After several minutes of hearing someone talking in the background, the phone is disconnected. That is thirty minutes of my life I'll never get back. Now I've got to try and explain to yet someone else exactly what it is I need accomplished.

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

PSA: FYI, they keep firetrucks behind those big doors at the fire station. Just in case you weren't quite clear on the matter.

If you can't Dodge it.... Ram it!!!

Well, those who frequent this blog know of the troubles I've been having with my Chevy S10. I finally decided to bite the bullet and buy a new(er) truck. Luckily, my dad had a 2001 Dodge Ram 1500 with only 68k miles that he allowed me to take up the notes on.

So I put a "For Sale" sign on my truck and within hours, the phone was ringing. I sold it for slightly less than what I was asking, but more than I would have settled for, so all was good.

My "new" truck has some nice performance goodies, like a K&N filter and a sweet-sounding dual exhaust. I spent today putting my two-way radio and siren in it. Needless to say, they were alot easier to install on the Dodge than they were on the S10, there's so much more room.

Now I've got to wash and wax it and make it look really nice....

My week of hell... errr... Hale

Just got home from spending a week at the world's greatest firefighter training school at Texas A&M University. I learned a whole helluva lot this week, taking the Pump Maintenance class. This meant I got to tear apart and put back together pumps from the Big Three -- Hale, Waterous, and Darley, as well as valves from those three and Akron and Elkhart. Real, macho, manly stuff going on there. Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor would be proud.

So now I get to go back to my Department and place what I've learned into action. I've got a pump that screams like a banshee on my tanker that I'm going to fix next week. Well, either fix it or break it so bad it'll require a complete new pump...

Do as I say, not as I do...

You've got to love the people or organizations that'll get up on their soapbox and preach, laying forth the rules that they expect everyone else to follow... and then they break those very rules themselves.

And like the proverbial playground bully that has been shoving all of the little kids around, when someone finally stands up and points out their hypocrisy, they get angry.

That's what I can't stand about our current Democratic party. They'll preach about separation of church and state till they're blue in the face, then have a politician speak ABOUT POLITICS at a church service. Listen, you can't bitch about prayer in schools or "Under God" in the pledge and then have Gore or one of the Clintons speak in church. Not preach a sermon trying to save souls, NO!!! This is a political speech deriding the conservatives in a church on a Sunday morning!!!

They'll preach about equality for all, but then by their actions let it be known that they think they are smarter than everyone else. That they are the only ones that "get it." Elitist bastards!!!

It's simple, if you're doing it, don't complain when someone else does the exact same thing.

Sunday mornings at 7:30AM...

... and I don't mix well. It's the weekend and I'm s'posed to be able to sleep late. But no, today I had to get up and assist on a controlled burn. At least the coffee was good (Thanks T, Gevalia rocks).

Little did I know that it was the start of the day from hell.

Managed to make it out to the site by around 8:30 with three firetrucks and six firefighters. Minutes later several of the fires are blazing, but the weather conditions are perfect to keep things under control. All we have to do is sit back and watch.

At 9:30, First Responders are toned for a call, so the 2nd Ass't Chief leaves in her PV to run the call. About fifteen minutes later, I hear my Chief request a helicopter and an LZ. I leave a captain in charge of my remaining two trucks and two firefighters as I head to the LZ site with the third truck and another firefighter. The bird lands, the patient is loaded, the bird takes off, and we go back in-service. My truck and another that had responded to the LZ are low on fuel, so we head to the city to fill up.

Talk with the chief and we decide to take everyone out for lunch, so back to the station to wait for the crew to return from the controll burn. About 11:30 everyone is back, so we head back to the city for some chow.

Around 13:00, I finally make it back home. I chat with the neighbors, let the dog out, water the plants, and intend to go take a shower and take a nap.... but no... the man who we were doing the contolled burn for calls on my cellphone. Seems the wind has picked up and it's threatening to get into the woods. I head to the station, calling firefighters on the phone to see if I can get some help. One answers the call, so we head to the scene. About midway there, the man calls back and said it's really getting bad, so we up our traffice to full Code 3 and advise dispatch to tone the Department.

We get on location and start working to put the fire out, only to high-center the truck on a hidden stump. Get the winch hooked up and pull the truck out. Others trucks show up and we knock the fire down.

Back home, I finally manage to get that shower and brief nap. A dear friend shows up and I spend some quality time with her, curled up on the couch with her and Buford.

But it's not the end of the story. Nope, we were dispatched to another LZ at around 21:30. By the time I get home and get showered (again), it's after 23:00.

What a day!!!

Gotta love customer (dis-)service...

I've been wrestling for the better part of two weeks with customer service at a certain company that shall remain nameless in the interest of not getting sued. The people have been very nice and friendly, but to date they've been unable to alleviate the problem.

I need a part, a certain part, to make a possession of mine function. So I call the company and they promise that they'll ship it out via (once again, no company names) and that I'll have it the next day. The charge of the part shows up on my credit card.

A week later I still haven't received the necessary part, so I call again. Seems there was a problem with my address and the first person I talked to hadn't gotten all of the required technical information. They worked to correct both problems and promised I'd have the part the next day. Sound familiar.

Three days later, still not having the part in my possession, I call. Seems the address is still the problem. Their computer system refuses to accept it and now they're having to "escalate" the problem to Logistics and have them solve it. I may get my part in a week or two.

Today, they call to have me do a customer satisfaction survey. OH BOY!!! That one should have upper management scrambling.

Then tonight, I log on to find out that they had charged me again for the part the second and third time I had called. I'm really, really, really happy about now. So I call and get them to credit my account for the additional two times they charged me.

Once again, everyone has been very polite and did their best to help, but I still don't have what I need.

Like the title says...

Size really does matter...

Ok, I really love getting e-mail, though if you send ANYTHING requiring a forward, be warned, it will stop with me. I DO NOT FORWARD ANYTHING!!!!

But please, check the size of your attachments. For those of you on DSL, cable modems, or satellite internet, large attachments mean nothing. For me on my slow-as-hell, 28.8kbps-on-a-good-day dialup, large attachments are a no-go. I don't even bother with them, I log onto my web-mail and hit delete.

I long for the day when I can get DSL here. I've got friends that live in BFE that have DSL, and I live less than a half-mile from the school and can't get. Life isn't fair...

Singing in my sleep?!?!

I awakened from a very, very odd dream this morning. Seems I was at my parent's house, trying to explain to some faceless person (don't you hate when that happens in a dream) the old Red Sovine song "Phantom 309." In the dream, I even struggled to remember the words to the song.

Whiskey...

Tango...

Foxtrot?

I haven't heard that song in years. Why in the world would it pop up in a dream? I mean, it's a great song, but what the hell is the meaning of it showing up in a dream?

For those that have never heard it, here are the lyrics:



I was out on the West Coast, tryin' to make a buck
And things didn't work out, I was down on my luck
Got tired a-roamin' and bummin' around
So I started thumbin' back East, toward my home town.

Made a lot of miles, the first two days
And I figured I'd be home in week, if my luck held out this way
But, the third night I got stranded, way out of town
At a cold, lonely crossroads, rain was pourin' down.

I was hungry and freezin', done caught a chill
When the lights of a big semi topped the hill
Lord, I sure was glad to hear them air brakes come on
And I climbed in that cab, where I knew it'd be warm.

At the wheel sat a big man, he weighed about two-ten
He stuck out his hand and said with a grin
"Big Joe's the name", I told him mine
And he said: "The name of my rig is Phantom 309."

I asked him why he called his rig such a name
He said: "Son, this old Mack can put 'em all to shame
There ain't a driver, or a rig, a-runnin' any line
Ain't seen nothin' but taillights from Phantom 309."

Well, we rode and talked the better part of the night
When the lights of a truck stop came in sight
He said: "I'm sorry son, this is as far as you go
'Cause, I gotta make a turn, just on up the road."

Well, he tossed me a dime as he pulled her in low
And said: "Have yourself a cup on old Big Joe."
When Joe and his rig roared out in the night
In nothin' flat, he was clean out of sight.

Well, I went inside and ordered me a cup
Told the waiter Big Joe was settin' me up
Aw!, you coulda heard a pin drop, it got deathly quiet
And the waiter's face turned kinda white.

Well, did I say something wrong? I said with a halfway grin
He said: "Naw, this happens every now and then
Ever' driver in here knows Big Joe
But son, let me tell you what happened about ten years ago.

At the crossroads tonight, where you flagged him down
There was a bus load of kids, comin' from town
And they were right in the middle, when Big Joe topped the hill
It could have been slaughter, but he turned his wheel.

Well, Joe lost control, went into a skid
And gave his life to save that bunch-a kids
And there at that crossroads, was the end of the line
For Big Joe and Phantom 309

But, every now and then, some hiker'll come by
And like you, Big Joe'll give 'em a ride
Here, have another cup and forget about the dime
Keep it as a souvenir, from Big Joe and Phantom 309!"