Drunken Santas

A couple of weekends back we flew up to NYC to get in the Christmas spirit, as we try to do most years. It just seems that the BIg Apple really knows how to celebrate, and this year was no exception, as we readily found out. We were staying at the Grand Hyatt, which is physically adjoined to Grand Central Station. The Hyatt lives up to its Grand prefix as it has over 1300 rooms and the whole nine yards, including a marble pool in the upper lobby that cascades down to the 1st floor street entry. Room service offered bottles of Makers Mark delivered to your room for $150(tip not included). I also noticed that two eggs of any style could be yours for $22. Those must have been special eggs.We didn't avail ourselves of room service. Upon checking in we went over to Grand Central Station to buy Metro Passes and were immediately assailed by hordes of young men and women in their early to mid twenties dressed like Santa Claus. The main common denominator was that they generally were all drunk and celebrating Christmas by screaming, yelling, and singing Christmas songs. Some of the girls appeared to be Santa's helpers, were equally drunk, and dressed provacatively in short, short skirts and candy cane striped stockings. I have found that this tradition started in 1998 and is called"Santa Con" for Santa Convention, or Drunken Santas, which is probably more appropriate. A lot of the participants are young professionals just taking the holiday as a license for having a good time. They were all over the city in their dirty red Claus costumes drunkenly hugging the women and shouting Merry Christmas. The NYC police were out in record numbers because of some vague threat to the subways , and generally tried to ignore the antics.We went to see Spamalot and Gay Clay really did a good job in his role as Sir Robin, and not as Lancelot as I previously thought. I paid $10 for a bagel at a nice restaurant across from our hotel, and was more than compensated by the long legs of our hostess as she seated the party. Never mind the fact that she was at least 38-40 years younger than me.Where has the time gone?Sandy and I celebrated our 35th anniversary and ate at the New York Luncheonette on East 50th Street which we have done for years. We went down to SoHo and looked around awhile at the Iron faced buildings and then went to Macy's . There was no Miracle on 34th street this year and I guess the Santas were sleeping off their drunken excessive behavior of the day before.Dave had an inebriated street person vomit a couple of times on his shoes while riding the crowded subway, and that seemed to deter him from any more trips on the subway. I think he rode in cabs the rest of the weekend. Better on Dave than me.The following week after NYC I was coming home from Virginia and stopped at where else to get a coke in Barbourville, and was waited upon by this discheveled waitress wearing this green Christmas shirt that proclaimed"If you're naughty I won't tell Santa".As she handed me my change I pointed to her shirt and said ,"I'm your man". She looked over my shoulder and said"Next." So much for charisma.Later on I was going through Corbin and there was a Santa waving from in front of a fast food chicken joint , his red suit only out done by gleaming new bluish, purple Nikes.Later on I saw another Santa in Danville sneaking a smoke standing in some brown weeds by the side of some ragged looking business.The final chapter came when I was bored and reading the local paper's annual edition that prints"Letters To Santa" in a little magazine. Every child wanted Iphones, Idogs(what ever that is), some kind of Wiis, and hand games. Nobody seems to have informed the youth of our country that there is a recession steaming full speed ahead to a depression. Santa is going to have to stop in China to get all the kids their electronic junk. One little girl in about the third grade also wanted a pet snake. A pet snake?? What an oxymoron!Can you imagine that snake getting loose in Santa's sleigh somewhere over the North Atlantic?? Maybe that is why we have drunken Santas. I must admit that one of my favorite moments of the weekend was when that dumbass Iraqi reporter threw his shoes at George W. during the press conference.That look on Bush's face cracked me up . What kind of man throws shoes at another man?? I really think George W. thought it was funny. Bush ducked those shoes pretty handily. That's probably out of practice from going hunting with Dick Chaney. You're still the man George. You're going home to Texas. Where is Saddam and his two thug sons? Chemical Ali?? Terac Azziz? Mission Accomplished.I'm having trouble spelling those Iraqi names as somehow the concept eludes me.Saddam ended up in a Spider Hole with only a couple pairs of white BVDs in his possession.After NYC I don't think I have BVDs. Milk and cookies to all. Merry Christmas to all and God Bless the USA !!

And The Award Goes To..........

This first week of December 2008 has been very cold ,and I'm already tired of winter. And winter does not even start until December 22. I don't think I used to mind the cold, but as I've aged I seem to long more and more for palm trees and blue waters. It doesn't hurt if the sands are covered with scantily clad women smelling of coco butter and baby powder, yet I digress from my subject. Everyone needs a change of scenery periodically, and the warmer the better for me. I would like to be eating dinner right now at an outdoor terraced restaurant in the Cayman Islands where we spent a too short-lived vacation. Someone would show movies on the side of a large building sized tank when the sun went down . It doesn't matter that there was no sound . The next morning we would be squeezed amongst a covey of tourists on a rocking dive boat headed to crystal clear wall dives . Everyone would gear up and take a giant stride off the rear platform and hit the blue water, regulators clinched in our mouths, the only thing between drowning in the clearest water on earth and our fragile lives. You can always taste the salt from the ocean as you are cruising around under the surface,only occasionally seeing a toothy barracuda or an elusive shark or two to remind me that this isn't Danville Avenue. We went to Stingray City and had our bodies encased with monsterous stingrays trying to steal slimy squid from our clinched fists. They are nature's vacuum cleaners as they suck prey from under the sand for lunch. Sunburned , overweight divers are no contest to these undersea raptors.They take our squid and tire of the game . No squid, no play, and they flap off into the distant shimmering vastness of the ocean. At 50 feet below Timmy and I only have 35-40 minutes of bottom time before we suck the air out of our aluminum 80s and head back up the dive line to the welcome boat above, occasionally getting nipped by nasty yellow finned snappers.Back on board the sun is beaming down and we're reminded that at home people are wearing coats and cursing the cold like I'm doing now.Some place right now there are young inebriated babes smelling like cocoa butter and alcohol, an irresistible combination for me. Last week was my final council meeting and my fellow councilors, sensitive souls that they are, presented me with a going away trophy of "Smart Ass of The Year" tastefully engraved with a brass horse's ass above. It is nice to have such sensitive and caring colleagues. I was a winner that night and they were all better gentlemen for my departure. I've been listening to Sean Kingston on the MP3 player and it has some reggae roots that almost takes me back to Cafe Johnny Canoes in Nassau. The steel drum bands transport you to a warmer and kinder place, almost like Eden, but I'm always reminded that, like Adam And Eve we always have to climb on board the blue and silver plane and head back North to cold, cold, and more cold. It has been too long since I've had some 3rd world dignitary stamp my passport and welcome me to their country in a bored, tired voice. Maybe living in Paradise isn't all its put on to be.Next weekend we drop into Manhatten, hopefully better luck than last time. I can't wait to hit the subway with its resident rank,locker room smell with the Tower of Babylon teeming masses.We're going to see Spamalot , and I think Mr. Excitement Clay Aiken plays the part of Sir Lancelot. I guess I'm just not a Claymate. I may see if Delta has benefits for people who have been decreed "Smart Ass of the Year". Maybe an upgrade to First Class.I just can't wait to harrass our cab driver from LaGuardia to the hotel.Maybe he'll even speak enough English to get us to our destination.

Is This A State Of My Union?

Well,it has come around once again or is nearly the time for my state of union address.What can I say about the economy?? I don't even watch the news anymore because who wants a steady diet of depressing news? I quit long before the election because all of the politicians wore me out. I fail to see the humor of a national election where Obama and McCain were the best to chose from. At this point,"Who Cares?" I voted for McCain only because I had to vote for someone. The good news is Obama isn't much more depressing as was McCain. I honestly think Charley Sheene would have been as desirable as either. I grew tired of celebrities spouting off their choices as to who would lead this country. You jerks need to remember the end of The Dixie Chicks,who had less talent than they thought. Ashley Judd weighed in for Obama, probably a good choice since UK hasn't done real well in football or basketball. VMI beat the basketball team like a drum. Phil Fulmer was given $6 million and asked to leave UT. Damn that had to really hurt!All the brokers and bankers were bailed out after millions of dollars in bonuses, and then went to spas in California.Jimmy Buffet and the Boss committed to Barack and I committed to quit buying their cds. That's not a big sacrifice since both are stale and living in the past.The big three auto makers want to be bailed out like the airlines.Why not? The Democrats want to pay off all the irresponsible credit card accounts. Again, why not?Our 401 Ks are losing every day and I quit opening the monthly tallies. Looking at a retirement account is like looking at the monthly heating gas bill.The good news is that we sold the big house in the middle of all this depressing news .Now we own a little slum house and two worn out cars. Gasoline is down to $1.76 in Liberty, and that is wonderful when it was$4.oo a gallon just over a month ago.Talk about lifestyle changes-moving from one house after 34 years, not running for city council , and anticipating other major changes, has made this a year of radicalism for our household.We as a country are on the threshold of sweeping changes for everyone. Citibank announced today it was laying off 51 thousand of its work force of 350 thousand. Other accounts tell that American auto workers are enjoying over $81 per hour including current benefits. I really feel sorry for those guys and girls. Maybe you and your Unions have caused the Big Three to be on the brink of bankruptcy. I've lost enough the last couple of months to buy a new ,loaded Suburban. Maybe it's time you guys feel a little pinch.The airlines are looking for a bail out as well, and are going to charge for luggage. Great.I guess the airlines are even taking away the soft drink and pretzels.Now that will really hurt.I hope Obama gets us out of Iraq and Afghanistan. Afghanistan has always been a bitterly fought over land , to be so poor and inhospitable. The British had their asses kicked over there in the latter 1800's , as Dr. Watson of Sherlock Holmes fame will testify. Watson was wounded in Afghanistan fighting insurgents. Some things never change. We enter the new year with some good news,however. First, we have no elections. Thank you heaven! Next we stand a good chance of not seeing so many irritating commercials since no one will have money to pay for them. Next ,just maybe some of these talking heads on tv will be released or retire. Man I am so tired of O'Reilly, Hannity(and Combs), Rush Limbaugh, and Ann Coulter, and that's just the conservatives. OJ is facing long prison sentencing(that's great), and we in Kentucky don't have to listen to all the vitriolic dialogue between McConnell and Lunsford. I wish both of those idiots could have lost. Maybe Ben Chandler can go on another cruise to the Galapagos Islands to study pollution. Go for it Ben . Our own Judge Buckwheat went to Alaska on a 6 day cruise compliments of Bluegrass Add. None of this good stuff runs down hill on us tax payers. We all know what DOES run down hill on us. Don't we? My only suggestion is to grab anything solid and hold on tight to see how this all works out.Changes in Attitude, changes in latitude. Forget that . It came out of Margaritaville. I'm still trying to finish"A Salty Piece Of Land". Maybe I won't. Eagles are in Cincinnati tomorrow night. I'll see you there!

The Eagles Have Landed

I used to be pretty savvy with new innovative gadgets, but as I grow older I have come to realize that either my brain is a little slower or things have gotten harder and a lot more complicated. Take text messaging for instance. I got it with a package on my last phone and it completely eluded me. I watch as these little kids use their thumbs to fly across the tiny phone keyboard.I used the service for a month and tried to converse with my niece who would send a message and it would take me ten minutes to compose and then type a response. She would then answer in a microsecond and I had to reply. Hell I can't even type on this keyboard without a lot of problems. I'm struggling here with my right index finger pecking out letters that often are inappropriate because I can't find what I need. It may partly be because I'm trying to eat raspberry icecream with my left as I compose. Sandy keeps wondering why the keys are sticking.The other day I was driving down the street and this chubby little urchin was peddling down the sidewalk on a funny looking bike with one hand up to his ear talking on his cell phone. Now who was this little devil talking to riding on his bike?I always have to hunt for question marks, and I'm trying to invent some way to blog without any punctuation. I think I'm doing pretty good because the indentions for paragraphing have so far eluded me(obviously). The crises-du-jour electronically has been the acquisition of a new mp3 from my mother-in-law because I cut her grass. I figured out how to put some of my favorite cds on the thing from the computer and thought that I would save space and erase them from the computer hard drive in preparation of loadind more cds onto the mp3. Well I ripped more music on the computer and then hooked up the old usb to the mp3. Guess what? the computer took my first downloaded songs off like I had taken off the harddrive. Seems like the computer got pissed that I got too cute . I won't do that again. The GPS that my mother-in-law got me has also found disfavor in my heart. I have grown tired of that smart assed little woman's voice telling me every time I take a turn she doesn't want me too. Hell, I've had Sandy telling me about wrong turns for 35 years, for free no less. I just quit using the GPS because there is a duet of feminine voices telling me where to turn, which brings up the purpose of this blog. I think it was in early SEptember that Sandy got us tickets to see the Eagles in concert.Now we've been watching the Melborne concert on DVD all winter and we had made the pact that if they ever came anywhere near we would go see them . Well we went to St. Louis and watched the Eagles at the Scott Trade Center where some hockey team normally plays, and it was wonderful. The Eagles came out and performed for three hours. There was some new material out of their last album , but mostly their classics spanning 40 years. The crowd loves it all, but when Joe Walsh starts playing Walk Away the concert really starts. Everything is great ,but Joe is my favorite. Sandy likes him the least. She favors Don Henley when he closes out the show with Desperado.We liked the concert so well that we have tickets in November to the same show in Cincinnati.These guys only get better as they age, not to mention wealthier.I wonder if Joe Walsh has as much trouble with technology as I do? I wonder if he text messages people? He certainly is one of the top five rock guitar players in the industry.I've often said that I would trade one and one half masters degrees for the ability to play guitar like JOe or Eric Clapton.I would bet Joe has as difficult a time text messaging as I do, at least I hope he does. We were just over in Charleston, South Carolina the past few days, and I did pretty good driving Sandy's Yukon around except for when I nearly ran over this young yuppie couple trying to cross Vendue Street off of East Bay. The guy was okay, but his young mate was shooting daggers at me with her eyes. Look Babe, I could have run over you!As it was I didn't even touch them, mainly because they were young and fast-quite fast, if I remember.I was reading Nelson DeMille's new book The Gatehouse, and I was interested when JOhn Sutter orders a pink squirrel at a bar. Turns out a pink squirrel is four fingers of scotch on the rocks.That Babe I almost bluecrossed probably needed a double pink squirrel. One of my most vivid memories of the Isle of Palms was of Dave the Magistrate sitting in this bar called Coconut Joes overlooking a magnificent beach while watching Kentucky figure out how to lose to Georgia in the last 28 seconds. Dave was drinking a pina colota with whipped cream and shaved chocolate on top. I tried to tell him that he couldn't look very manly and indignant over Kentucky's loss with such a sissy-assed drink in his hand ,and he calously brought up that I had nearly run over a young couple on Vendue Street. He was right.The only thing that would have been more perfect that afternoon would have been Joe walking in and doing Rocky Mountain Way.Here's to a pretty young brunette with rage in her eyes.

Fast Lads

Today I was in a meeting with Olive and these two young men going over a bid for a fairly significant project that our two companies are attempting to collaborate upon. These fellows are in their early thirties and late twenties, about the age of my own children if I had some. Like all meetings the talk soon turned to music and fast cars(and some things about women). Keith is married, while neither Walt or Olive are.Keith was in the meeting to more or less supervise, but kept fiddling with his I phone and downloading songs. What brought music up was that walt's phone rang and had some song I didn't recognize. It went completely down hill from there as Olive told them I was ADD and couldn't listen to a song more than a few seconds, a completely true fact , I might add . The conversation turned to cars and they mentioned that the company owner had just acquired a new out of the factory Challenger, complete with a huge Hemi and roaring dual exhausts. It seems it was in the basement with a whole stable of Corvettes. It didn't take long for the entourage to sneak down stairs to check out the wheels. THe Challenger was sitting there wearing hot orange paint like General Lee and begging to be abused by these young speed freaks. I soon learned that Keith's true passion was an early 70's Vette with a 454 engine with nearly 600 horsepower. He produces a set of keys and cranks up the beast. I thought for a minute that I was at Indy for this weekend's Brickyard 400. Sitting behind this monster car was a beaming lad wearing a Tommy Bahama camp shirt with palm trees who wasn't even born when the Vette came off the assembly line . He sat there letting the 454 idle, its super cam thudding out an evil,evil oath of eating up whatever came in its path. He coerced Olive into the cockpit of this landlocked spacecraft and backed out of the garage, glasspacks and headers chunking out evil oaths. Poor Olive, she never had an idea of what was about to befall her. Now Olive drives one of those girly Lexus crossovers that needs a tach that lets you know whether the thing is running. She had never ridden shotgun in a killer Vette with Keith driving. We heard him hit the narrow street down the little commercial drive , and heard 600 horses connect with propeller shafts to the blacktop. The doors to hell opened as he built up respectable quarter mile speeds on an eighth of a mile street.I Thought every cop in Lexington has to have heard that. About that time Young Walt came strolling down with the keys to the Challenger and said," Let's go beat him!" Boy, has Chrysler created a masterpiece!As I looked around at the interior I was impressed that such a high tech, civilized car could have come from Chrysler. THe old time Challengers and Cudas would run, but by and large most Mopar muscle was junk in the late 60s and 70s. This baby had computer screens and all the leather and ammenities of modern upper end automobiles, something you might expect in a car selling probably for $70000 in a market that only is producing 6500 or so this year. As Walt pushed a button to start the thing, yes, a push button, the Hemi ignited and Houston we had liftoff. By the time we got out of the gate onto the narrow street, Keith and Olive were just re-entering the earth's atmosphere. Olive's eyes were as big as dinner plates and her carefully coifed red hair was somewhat disheveled as one might expect from 3 Gs of force throwing you into the narrow leather bucket seats. The two lads pulled up side by side without preamble and the drag race was on. The Vette got cross ways in between first and second about the time a turbo kicked in on the hemi . Computerized traction control kept the Challenger in an impossibly straight line, nearly passing the Vette which came up from eating the huge radials to surge ahead. I know that the Challenger would eat the Vette up in a mile on the Interstate but it wasn't about to happen today on a busy commercial street in industrial Lexington. Just as the lads rushed the cars through the company gates and into the basement garage the metro police appeared upon the scene. Small wonder; you could probably have heard them in Frankfort,30 miles away. As Keith and Walt went back to their desks to work, Olive and I went out to our sedate little cars and headed to our next meetings. The last time I had been so fast as in the Challenger was in a US Air commuter jet.As I pulled out onto the street, I couldn't help but notice the policeman sitting in his white patrol car, plotting his next move. He had followed wide black tire tracks to the stable. He may still be sitting there. Burning radials and 100 mph makes for an interesting Friday morning.What a drag this afternoon turned out to be.

Snakey Places

Lately I have been reminded of earlier and simplier times back to my childhood. Is this a part of the aging process?? Every day I live I am older than I have ever been before, and it is a frontier area of sorts to me as I don't exactly know if what I am experiencing is normal. Somehow I was reminded of in my youth we would often be out of doors and wandering through nature as kids back then did. Where we grew up in rural central Kentucky was often wooded and overgrown with fast growing shrubs and bushes. Being the country boys that we were, we acquired a lot of knowledge about natures with its wonder and beauty. Along with this beauty were areas of pitfalls and danger if we did not pay attention. We knew that the lawns were covered in white clover that attracted honey bees by the thousands , a fact important if you were barefooted as we normally were. To get stung by the bees was very often a minor part of every day life. I.E, the cost of doing business. Now Red wasps , yellow jackets , and monster hornets were a different matter. These were the bad boys that we knew could put us out of commission for a day. Yellow jackets often lived in nests under ground and had hair triggers when anyone came near. These foul little critters usually paid the price when we were attacked. It only took about a quart of lawn mower gas poured down the tunnel and a big old kitchen match put the icing on the cake. One monster WHOOSH later and often singed body hair brought great satisfaction to stung limbs. We couldn't resist throwing rocks at huge paper hornet nests. Once rattled the hornets woud come out in a black mass looking to have some youthful intruders ass. all too often it was mine . Holy hell those critters packed a punch. I can honestly say that nothing incites fearful memories in me more than having a sleek , black hornit tangled in your hair trying to burrow through to your scalp to sink his industrial stinging probe nearly to your brain. Or the memory of a swarm of monster bumble bees as the descend upon you sounding like a clumsy B-52 , angry at you for banging on the side of an old house where you knew their nest was located. Bumble bees are nature's way of preparing little boys for adult life.As we wandered along between stings , we would come upou areas that we called "snakey". These places would have a better than average probability of having a short tempered serpent as its main resident. Snakey could be a thick blackberry patch, a wooded area overgrown with weeds or a trash laced ditch. We instinctively knew what to avoid and what to expect. Rattle those bushes and a shiny blue racer black snake might roll out on you, ready to do battle. Or it might be a rat snake 6 feet long, more than ample to send us racing home. On a really bad day you might open up door number three and hear an answering rattle from within. Oh Hell! Sorry mr rattler that was a mistake. Walk through the woods and smell cucumber, then turn around. You didn't want to open that door. We usually won the battle of the serpents, but I realize today that every day I encounter areas in business that are just as snaky as in the old days. The only difference is that todays snakes wear pin striped suits and smell like Cool Water instead of cucumber. Like the hornets, these bad boys pack a powerful sting as well. These bombers don't fly with wings but with shiny, black BMWs and 500 SELs. Some sting worse than others, and some have lost their sting. I just know that they live in snakey places and that there seems to be a limitless supply of these old reptiles.Shake the bushes and you never know what comes out. Ask Cleopatra .

Smooth Operator

This past weekend was of monumental importance because it was Derby Day. Now I feel that the Kentucky Derby is one thing in Kentucky that belongs to the entire world. Our soldiers in Iraq even had festivities commemorating the Run for the Roses. This year was a tragedy as the mare running in 2nd place brokedown after crossing the finish line. Brokedown is not good as her front ankles broke from the race and she was irrepairably damaged; damaged to the point of having to be euthanized. Immediately all animal activists want to stop horse racing. I even saw it compared to Michael Vick's dog fighting. Have you ever watched horses in a field? Horses don't have Laze Boy Recliners and video games. They race and run for fun.Those idiots from PETA even want to stop the KFC people from killing chickens. What are chickens going to be used for if not drumsticks and tenders?? We shouldn't eat eggs because of cholestrol, so this pretty well limits conversation about chickens. I'm still reeling over the fact that we have Hillary, Barack, And McCain who are the sole contenders for President. What has happened to our country? The Marines are looking for a few good men but these three duds just don't do it for me.I would vote for Condaleeza Rice in a second, so don't throw the woman/race argument at me. So Derby is over and the stars who came to Louisville have mostly departed. I am amazed at the star losers that are invited to the festivities. Anita Madden used to have the best parties in the state , but waved a magic wand and turned Hamburg Race Farm into Hamburg Place, a multi million dollar shopping center. Now most of the festivities are at the homes of the Barnstable Twins who are fading flowers that were UK cheerleaders about a hundred years ago. I keep up with the stars by seeing their photos in the Lexington paper's Sunday edition. I think the stars who attend the Derby Parties are like those who have Concerts at Renfro Valley. They are past their prime and on the way down. One of this years revelers?? Larry Birkhead, whose claim to fame was giving sperm to Anna Nicole Smith. I saw Hef walking along with the three blonde bimbos. Come on Hef , You are old.Does anyone actually believe your old parts still work?? Not Me. So as the Derby was gearing up on Saturday, we cut lawns and worked on slummy houses. I didn't even know until Sunday who won.Honestly I was more excited when Kyle Busch spun Junior out at Richmond with 3 laps to go. I was trying so hard to like Kyle up to this point but I like Junior better. The only redeeming thing about the Derby has always been the infield area where alcohol and narcotics have ruled the day . Beads , mud wrestling , and drunken brawls would make me feel pretty much at home among the true Louisville Sluggers.Remember Kato Kalin?? He used to be a standard guest at Derby Parties. Maybe he and Larry Birkhead ought to start some kind of business together, anything that didn't necessarily involve intelligence. There seems to be a large market out there for such enterprises. Joey Fatone was also in attendance. I saw him in Rent. What does he do now?? Call Larry and Kato.The crown of my weekend was buying Sade's greatest hits cd at the Half-price bookstore. I always loved"Smooth Operator", and still do. Born 49 years ago to an English mother and A Nigerian father, this Babe can sing.Sade,I just love to say the name.SHAR-DAY.Sade was not in attendance at any party I read about.I guess I'm going to listen to all 18 or 19 tracks on my next trip to Tennessee.I probably would vote for Sade over Barack. Am I the only one who can't hear what he says for looking at his goofy looking ears? Hillary would have worn a sophisticated hat to the Derby with a grey pantsuit.What has this world come to? Even the sweet little girls are drinking Southern Comfort now.As long as they're sipping it to "Smooth Operator" I guess its ok and I won't tell.

Elves

On Friday I was cruising up HWY 58 in Virginia on my way to a jobsite in Pennington Gap. As I neared Rose Hill I decided to stop at this little Amish Bakery store to buy Sandy Kay some bread. Sandy would rather have fresh baked bread than roses anyday, and who am I to argue? Have you checked the price of a dozen roses lately? As I entered the tiny sales room I noticed this little, miniature Amish girl looking up at me, nibbling on some sort of chip. I would guess she was about two years old, and dressed in a little blue Amish dress with white athletic shoes, or how athletic can a baby just walking be?I asked her what was her name and she just looked at me . About that time her older brother of about 6 or 7 years old walked to her side. He was wearing a pale blue shirt , buttoned at the neck with suspenders holding up his blue jeans. I asked him what his little sister's name was and he said"Veronica". That bewildered me as I didn't think this sounded very Amish, and I asked him what his name was. "Duane", he replied. Duane?? Now I was confused. Is Duane an Amish name or is there such a thing as Amish names? I'm certainly not a sociological theologist, and know little about Amish except they bake good bread and drive their buggys too slow in traffic. I was thinking about this as I chose sourdough, honey oat , and jalapena cheese bread. As I headed to pay at the counter I noticed another little lad had appeared and was also looking up at me over his blue shirt and suspenders. Obligingly I asked him ,"What's your name?" "Caleb". Now we're getting someplace!!I told him," That's a good name", and he just nodded his little head. The clerk whom I took to be their mother was devoid of makeup, and was early thirtish, wearing the funky little white cap and somber black and blue clothing. Don't ask me why but I asked her if the three little ones were the Keebler Elves, and she didn't have any concept of what I was asking. I suddenly thought: No TV, No Keebler commercials. Anyone who could bake like this clan certainly didn't use their Amish Bank Debit cards on store- bought cookies.She handed me the change from my twenty , and I realized she knew a lot about Dead Presidents and business. As I was exiting and holding the door for this fat assed young woman, I thought about telling her she needed Jenny Craig more than Amish baked goods, but I'm not exactly a slender waif myself. As I got into the wrecked automobile I thought how interesting it would be to take the whole little Amish family down HWY 58 at 80 MPH , playing Carlos Santana at deafening volume. What would they think? We could have an exchange program where I could ride a few miles in the back seat of one of their horse drawn buggys. I don't know what we'd talk about, but it certainly wouldn't be about Keebler elves. Come to think of it that little mother would probably turn a few eyes with some make up, some high heeled Jimmy Choos, and a DKNY little black dress. I wonder if they have child restraint seats for little Veronica in that buggy?? I kinda look like an aging Amish elder myself . Maybe the three kids thought I belonged to the clan. I think the black Ralph Lauren shirt threw them off a little, or it could have been the lack of suspenders. These folks are pretty uptight with outsiders so maybe I'll lay off Santana and play them a little Gnarls Barkley for them.I really can't mess with them too much because my happiness at home involves their baked goods.Like I said , roses cost too much and I'm always in significant problems at the little slum house.Man I feel old today.

Chicago

In early April we made a trip to Chicago over the weekend to see "The Jersey Boys" , which is the stage version of the Four Seasons and Frankie Valli. We flew out of Louisville via Southwest Airways, and forty-five minutes later touched down very,very briskly at Midtown. I say briskly as the pilot really had to reverse thrust with enthusiasm to stop the 737 as it sped on a path of death and devastation. The male flight attendant came on the intercom and said "OuuW"as we came in so fast. Safely on the ground we found transportation in the form of a Jamaican cab driver who took five of us to our destination on Lasalle and Ohio Street. It started raining and then got colder to the point of a few flakes, in early April no less. Our hotel was as adequate as you'd expect for $65 a night, but that we paid over $220 per night with taxes.Something of a dump with a view. Directly across Ohio Street was a two-story McDonalds with a full block footprint . The Golden Arches were classily done ,and as I later found is the third busiest Big Mac in the US, and the 12th busiest in the world. It replaced one of the first McDonalds in Chicago on the 50th anniversary in 2005. Talk about classy!! Wow! You walk in the joint and there are escalators taking you to the 2nd level. One of my favorite things in life is furniture of the Bauhaus era and man were they there!! In one corner in a little nook looking out towards the Hardrock Cafe were 4 Barcelona chairs in black leather. These were originally designed for the 1929 Barcelona Worlds Fair by Ludwig Mies Van De Rohe, a young German Architect who Is given credit for the practical use and design of steel and glass skyscrapers. The Barcelona chair has become a classic and when manufactured by Knoll International these babies cast $4000 each! That corner of the McDonalds held $16000 of these beauties along with a classic glass-topped Knoll table. The middle seating area was outfitted in classic French Le Corbusier sofas and cube chairs in chrome and black leather. This furniture was designed for the 1929 Salon D'Automne in Paris, and like The Barcelonas, are expensive. I guarantee you that the average tourist or Big Mac patron doesn't realize what these black leather chairs that they're spilling diet cokes on are so expensive. The booths have Classic Eames bent plywood sidechairs in honey colored veneers. Even the floors in the seating niches have rosewood planks to complement the Bauhaus look. The inch-thick plate glass has aluminum and steel connectors and fittings to form a classic contemporary glass exterior two stories high, all from Germany I might add. It seems ironic that the thing I enjoyed the most in Chicago was the McDonalds. I woke up at 4 o'clock on Sunday morning and the double drive-thru lanes were completely filled with patrons buying cokes and burgers. One skinny pimp was dancing along leading his stable of chubby ladies in tall black boots into the McDonalds ,maybe as a reward for a productive night. I feel that pimps and their hookers are like vampires and can't stand the effects of clean, pure sunlight. I guess they got happy meals and headed to some dark, slummy tenement to await the next night and new patrons.Not this country boy though!!WE went to the Field Museum and before entering ,looked across at the panorama of the legendary Soldier Field, home of the Bears. Without a doubt this monstrosity of architecture is the ugliest creation on earth. It is so bad that so-called professional architects could create something so absurdly ugly and bizarre. What is even more mind boggling is that some people in power actually bought the concept. Mies Van Rohe is turning corkscrews in his grave that this monument is allowed to stand. The Field Museum was great and we saw "Sue" the tyrannosaurus rex skeleton on display.We saw a lot of native American displays , along with a nice exhibit on the South Pacific Islanders, which made me want to be there.All too soon we boarded the orange and blue jet back to Louisville to a rainy and cold Sunday afternoon in Kentucky. Since then we had a 5 something earth quake centered somewhere in Illinois south of Chicago. Too bad it didn't knock Soldier Field down so someone could create something more elegant in a city known for architecture. Again one of the memories of the museum was a McDonalds in the basement . What stood out was that it was huge and had at least 25 Hispanics waiting on people. I could only say"Me no hable spanole" or something of that ilk.This week I was in Knoxville and realized how old I have gotten, and how I have gotten off track.Like the Eagles have so aptly said,"Half the distance takes twice as long." Viva Walk Like A Man!!!!

Sweeney Todd comes to Kentucky

Sandy and I went to Louisville on Saturday afternoon to the Kentucky Center to see Sweeney Todd. This version has been playing on Broadway, and is not to be confused with the movie version currently playing with Johnny Depp playing the title role. We had gotten the tickets as an anniversary present from the old brother-in-law and met him up there for the blood fest, and blood fest it is. Sweeney Todd is an English barber who uses a straight razor to dispatch his victims. I think he slit the throats of about 6 or 7 in the movie, including his female accomplice. Previously his lady love had helped dispose of the bodies by cooking them and making meat pies which they sold in the neighborhood. The butchery was accomplished on stage by the use of flashing red lights and fiendish noises as he slashed their throats with his shiny razor. There seems to be an element of truth to Sweeney as this story goes back to England about the early 1800s. There is a similar story from France about the same time. The play has 10 characters on the stage , and all play several instruments. The killed characters don white coats with bright red blood stains to separate them from the living. A central piece of stage furniture is an old fashioned black,wooden coffin that becomes a bar, a judge's bench , a podium , and an actual coffin. The music is very catchy and well performed,especially By the Sea and Johanna. The British to whom we owe this story are certainly morbid people. It was easily not the most up-lifting dramatic play that I have seen, but it was entertaining. We went across the street immediately following the play to the Bristol and dined; certainly not meat pies you can bet on that. As we were leaving I noticed a new night club/restaurant just down the street, close to the big ball bat. I can't remember the name but it reminded me of Greenwich Village or Soho because it had the whole roof ledge and door archetraves festooned with life-sized emperor penguins painted bright red. Quite an impressive sight. By the doorway they had this theatrical chandalier hanging over the sidewalk , very large in scale and dramatic.I've got to research the red penguins and patronize the place. It certainly won't take the place of McDonalds, but Downtown Louisville is leaps and bounds over downtown Lexington.All Lexington seems to be able to muster is worn out shows at the Opera House or infrequent concerts at Rupp Arena. We also like going to the Palace Theater and eating at Cunninghams across the street. We took the nieces and nephews in early DEcember to see Michael MacDonald . I think they were more impressed with the restaurant than Michael. Maybe the Doobie Brothers are a little dated to their generation.Daytona came today and Ryan Newman won.I'm glad, because lately he has been more visible selling Gillette razors than appearing in the winner's circle. Maybe Sweeney Todd should use a Trac Three in the play and get royalties from the company, much like the "Young Guns".Compared to "Spam-A-Lot" Sweeny Todd is pretty drab, but they say Clay Aikens is going to play Sir Lancelot on the New York stage version of Spam-a Lot. .A good weekend including Sweeney and the Red Penguins. Tomorrow is Monday and the weather turns colder. Hurry up spring.I hope I don't hear "Convoy" going to work.

Music City Funk

Well last night the University Of Kentucky College of Athletics took the road show to Nashville to take on the Vanderbilt Commodores in basketball. Take them on they did and as Patterson said,"They played like men and we played like boys".I think girls could have beat these clowns. They scored 11 points the first half; must be some kind of record.They had worked their way up to number 85 in the nation. Congratulations guys.Now where will you be??86?? There apparently won't be any invitation to the Big Dance in March Madness. Why would there be? We can only look past this season to baseball. Our own close connection to UK Basketball from Stanford can be found in the Buffalo Springs Cemetary in the old section . A marker proclaims this to be the grave site of Basil Ewing Hayden , the First All American in Basketball at the University of Kentucky. Now that is pretty important for a native Stanford son to be the first of the best All American Basketball players at UK . Basil was born in 1899 in Stanford . His father was a grocer and his mother tutored students. As a child the family moved to Paris , Kentucky.He became a star athlete whetre he excelled at all sports. Going to UK he threw the javelin and was the best Basketball player on the team for four years. In 1926 after graduation he coached the Wildcats for one year.That was one of the worst team efforts for many years. His record, 3-13, was the last losing season until Eddie Sutton's 1988-89 record of 13-19.Basil starred in perhaps the first basketball tournament in history when he and the team played against Georgia in 1922. Basil died at the age of 103, and his remains were brought back to Stanford to be buried with his family. When asked about his secret to long life, Basil once said, "Live to 99, and then be careful."Most people do not realize Basil lies in rest in the cemetary, his little ,modest stone and marker overshadowed by the obelisks of rich and important men. There was a small frozen American flag iced on to the bronze marker, a flash of color in the white snow.I never knew Basil but I think the modest monument would suit him to a "t".Thanks Basil Hayden for what you started, and as to the current UK Basketball team and Coach, you are all certainly reason to look to the past.

Grammys Turn 50

This past Sunday night was pretty dreadful for television so I found myself watching the 50th Edition of the Grammys. I used to watch music award shows all the time , but as I aged the music and I grew more distant. I guess every generation splits with previous generations over music . I know my parents thought the Beatles meant the the end of civilization, and I think maybe they were right. John and George are both dead and Sir Paul is battling his one time wife for what may be the biggest divorce settlement in British history. Little old trashy Ringo seems to be a survivor and is doing well , at least by the looks of the blonde babe on his arm. Music awards have always been a spectacle , yet this one was somewhat sedate by MTV standards. This Rap guy Kaeyne West did some strange stuff and wore these lit -up glasses like in a sci-fi movie with radiation, and he made the program stop playing music to finish his thank yous for some award.Later on this emaciated , tattooed crack girl won 5 awards , including best song. She was in England and thanked her mama and incarcerated husband. Later on Natalie Cole was angry because the Electric Glasses guy didn't win enertainer of the year because this crack babe did , and she felt this set a bad example considering the tattoo girl's past substance abuse. It's not exactly like they're all lily white. I think they all become rich and famous to buy drugs. I saw Joe Walsh in the stands . Way to go Joe!!Eagles new Wal Mart CD is not my favorite, but rumor is they're going on tour this year. Fergie sang my least favorite song on the Duchess CD, and didn't look her best, but she is still hot. They drug Cher out of some rest home and she introduced Beyonce and Tina Turner as they sang a couple off of Private Dancer and then Proud Mary.Tina is 68 years old and should have gracefully declined to dance on stage, at least with Beyonce and the backup dancers. The Tina Turner I want to remember had the sexiest legs on earth and that wild spiked wig, not the Tina Turner dancing with Miss Knoles. Beyonce is beautiful and immensely talented , but she will enter her later years with a lot of booty.Speaking of big, Aretha sang a holy roller song with a gospel choir and man, is she a big woman. I think she had better lose a lot of weight or she won't be around long. I think she eats more than she sings. Remember her part in the Blues Brothers Movie? I miss John Belushi. I think he was the funniest natural comedian of all times. Animal House will never be topped. I saw Faith Hill in one of those PR shots, and maybe the angle was bad ,but her derriere looked as big as Arethas. She was still pretty in the face.I think Brittany was under institutional arrest or something because she wasn't there.Michael Jackson was not seen, but he was probably raising his family or super-gluing his latest nose back on.Fame does really bizarre things to people. I saw the artist formerly known as Prince, and currently again as Prince, and he introduced csomething. He is at least consistent, and very talented. I think his consistency has something to do with being from the cold Minnesota area.All in all it wasn,t the worse Award show but it certainly wasn't the best. They even had Ludakris under control. I didn't see Snoop Dog or Flavr Flav but I guess they're too old now. I miss Bobby Brown and Whitney and a little bit of Ozzie, along with Bill Clinton. Life isn't as entertaining to us country boys without Bubba in the White House. I'm going to buy this Crack Girls CD because it maybe good. She won entertainer of the year for something. What ever happened to Norah Jones?? Whatever happened to Michelle Branch , and her rise to fame with Carlos Santana? Where is Charlotte Church?? Country music seems to be in a slump. Where's Alan Jackson when we need him ? Everything seems to be normal after the awards but I wish WPBK would quit playing that stupid Convoy song early in the mornings. I've hated that song since it first played. I've sincerely had an overload of the Rubber Duck. I wonder if Bubba misses Monica??

A Visit To The Queen City(Almost)

This past Friday Mike and I went north up I-75 to Covington to check on the status of a job that will ultimately be in Cincinnati. The company we have the proposal with is located on the banks of the Ohio in Covington , which like the Cincinnati Airport is located in Kentucky.Covington is a very unusual town which seems in doubt of its identity. On the one hand it is separated from its big city sister by the rolling Ohio, which today was very high and muddy from all the recent rains.On the other hand it is still full of Kentucky rednecks who daily pass over the bridge to take the higher wages from the more prosperous Ohio business community.Ironically there has been somewhat of a reversal with the migration as the Buckeyes are crossing the bridge southward to work for the Airport, Delta, Citi Corp, or Fed Ex.The one thing they seem to share is the love of drinking and pursuit of pleasure.Both have racetracks, sleazy bars, and "Gentlemens Clubs".Indiana down the river has the gambling boats.I believe there is ample opportunity for the visiting country boys to spend their hard earned cash, and I don't mean Florence Mall, Y'all.We still haven't found if we get the job, which is very large, probably a full years work.If we do there will be lots of meetings and trips northward , which really isn't far,just an hour and change for 80 miles. There is a KSP Post at Dry Ridge which adds spice to the trip.Your chances are greater today getting a ticket from the weight watchers as they sneak around in their nasty ,goldish Crown Vics with the blue stripes. These State Police Wannabees write a lot of tickets, mainly on automobile traffic. Work zones cost double, ask me. I know for a fact. I'm not so fond of going North;give me Knoxville any day. Speaking of Country Boys, Stanford now has a new radio station, WPBK-FM. We had WRSL for years and it was sold and left the area. We were dependent on Danville or Lexington for local news, but now the station is back in operation and with a very unusual format. It is a blend of talk radio with music, local announcements, and sports. Probably the most popular segment is the Swap And Shop where you can buy anything. The early segment is unique in that the DJ plays all genre of music. The other morning he played 16 tons by Tennessee Ernie Ford followed by George Thoroughgood stuttering out "BBBAAD to the Bone". One time he had George Jones and "He Stopped Loving her today" followed by AC-DC promoting "Rated X", the world champion wrestler owned by the DJ. I think Rated X lives in Geneva or New Salem. Oddly enough the music mix seems to work. Can't you just see some old Farmer up to his knees in cow manure singing some song about the Reaper from Blue Oyster Cult? They also have the sports director Captain Timmy giving weather reports from the WPBK helicopter on the days school is out. If there's school Timmy has to be calling subs for ailing teachers, and then going to teach social studies. He's a busy lad as he serves on the city council, as well as running for exercise. Last council meeting Timmy challenged the other 5 members to participate in a 5K race scheduled for sometime in June. Right, Timmy. I do believe that Timmy uses Crab Orchard's Cobra helicopter when he gives the traffic report on snow days. They probably use the batteries off the Amish Buggies to start the thing.Maybe other council members can use our big red caboose to report on something from .I do believe the radio station is doing a remarkably good job, and the community has missed it. The only glitch so far has been a play of Jimmy Buffet's classic"Why Don't WE Get Drunk and Screw". By mistake of course. I bet the old English Teachers lit up on that one..That would probably fly in Covington.So Barkeep pour another round of brew........ 102.9 on the FM dial

My State Of The Union 2008

Well 2008 has quietly come in, and like the Governor and President Bush it's time for my state of the Union report. Having been married for 34 years already, and having lived in the same house those same 34 years , and starting on my 30th year with the same job , to say that I am conservative is quite the understatement. Somehow we bought the little cottage next door from a gay guy who had just purchased it.Now I didn't want the house but the lad priced it too cheap. We gave him the money, and he gave me a hug, and I finally finished completely remodelling the thing two years and thousands of dollars later. The little cottage is only 1100 square feet , and somewhere Sandy and I lost our minds and decided to move in.We left 3600 square feet next door for the baby slum cottage. It's a whole lot warmer in the winter , and a whole lot easier to heat with adequate insulation and a heat pump.This spring I start working on the old behemoth in hopes of selling it , and maybe baby slum house as well. The big house was originally started in 1868, and the whole neighborhood has always been afraid of it because of ghosts. One old lady jumped to her death around the turn of the century from my bedroom window, while the story is that another man hanged himself in a barn that was adjacent to the house. The only scary things that I ever saw was when Sandy's ancient great aunts would visit and were very liberal walking around semi- clothed, actually semi- naked is more apt. What is it about senior citizens that makes them want others to see their wrinkled underparts??I think I was emotionally scared seeing Aunt Marietta's upper nakedness one winter night. It certainly didn't bother her. I really don't know that she knew the extent that gravity had caused parts to go south. Another time Uncle Earl was lying in a front bedroom with a night lamp illuminating his emaciated , ninety year old face. I thought it was a fresh corpse, but he ate breakfast the next morning.I never saw any ghosts , but I feel they probably left when I moved in.I know that nearly 35 years ago when I moved in, the old lawn was a forest of ancient mature trees, so many in fact that in the fall of 1974 we raked up over 90 bags of leaves. The only thing outnumbering the trees were garter snakes. Every time I was picking up leaves to bag I inadvertantly picked up writhing masses of the ill humored little serpents. Yuck! The only thing I hate worse than snakes are babies picking their noses. The trees are all gone through wind storms, old age , and just too much maintenance. So in 2008 we are in a smaller house without steps and with more privacy than in the corner lot before. The Hollywood whores are still misbehaving, and they have even gotten Doctor Phil involved. That was really dumb on his part to get drawn in; maybe he isn't as smart as I thought.Barack has gotten Oprah involved in his campaign. I don't understand this Oprah thing either.Hillary and Bill aren't looking so good, and Pretty Boy dropped out and took his $400 haircut back home to North Carolina. I wish all the current candidates would quit and get some fresh ones. I miss little Ross Perot with his banjo ears and charts. I wouldn't vote for him, I just miss him. Now Dennis Kuchinich, the one time Boy Wonder has gotten old and shrunk to the size of an elf. He's so far left that I think Ralph Nader would be scared of him. McCain, if elected he would be the oldest man ever elected to the office. He scares me. Romney?? He should be married to John Kerry's wife , the pickle woman. Guiliani left Florida, A distant third and Fred took his babe back to Tennessee. Talk of Bloomberg keeps coming up, and I hope he keeps his money in New York.This could be the first Presidential election I haven't voted in since I was 18. And our new Governor? He won't be happy until he repays his underworld gambling friends off with new casinos in the Commonwealth of Kentucky. What can you expect from a weasly lawyer? Our Lieutenant Governor has an early twenties wife, or maybe girlfriend. I don't know if they're married. I just know he's too old for her, especially with his ambition in politics.We're still in Afghanistan and Iraq. Time to get out.Let's take the war money and put it in health care for our own people.I'm trying to think of what I'm going to spend my $6oo government economy stimulent money on. If Sandy deoesn't get it first I may go to NYC and walk over to Brooklyn again this spring. I haven't fought any duels this past year , but I have been perilously close.Sandy went to Gatlinberg this past weekend and my brother asked what I was going to do Saturday night. Right. What do 58 year old men do on Saturday nights? The same things they did when they were 57 or 56 . They stay home with the slum houses and the slum neighbors. Remember this isn't the Green Zone. It's always condition orange on Helm And Moon Streets.My niece has a boyfriend that reminds me of Bobby Brown, so I have renamed her Whitney. They seem to be oblivious to anything but each other.She has a Cairn Terrier with protruding bottom teeth that I have remed "Bucky". He can destroy a house in two hours . We should send lots like him to Iraq. I guarantee the insurgents would surrender fast.I really don't have any complaints other than the previous ones, but I kind of miss Rosie and Donald.The Dixie Chicks are long overdue another meltdown, and the Baldwins always have something up their sleeves.What's with Paris??Haven't heard from her. I hope this year is wetter than last. One office in Lancaster wrote"Remember Rain?" on their outside message board. Atlanta is a lot worse than we are. Maybe it's Al Gore's global warming.One thing is certain : cream always rises to the top. Viva Hollywood!

Down the Wilderness Road

I was on the jobsite of the residential job that I am currently working on near Big Stone Gap, Virginia and decided to stop at the Wilderness Road Park just out of Middlesboro , Kentucky across Cumberland Gap, near Rose Hill ,Virginia. The significance of this location is that it was the last civilized settlement in Virginia before the settlers traversed the Cumberland Gap into Kentucky. This was the site of Martin's Station, a frontier fortress that protected the pioneers from the ravages of the savage Indians and nature. The state of Virginia has reconstructed the old log fort from historical accounts and documents, and it serves as probably one of the best reminders of how rough life on the frontier truly was in the 1770s. This Fort is of some interest to modern day Stanford where I live because plans are to reconstruct Ft. Logan in Stanford, much as it was when the town was established by Benjamin Logan in the spring of 1775. In Kentucky history the three earliest settlements in order of establishment were Harrodsburg by James Harrod, Ft. Logan by Ben Logan, and Boonesborough by Daniel Boone. Ft. Logan was called St. Asaphs after a Welsh Saint because the Longhunters first camped there on the holiday of St. Asaphs. Later tradition says that the name was changed to Stanford after the attacking Indians called it "Standing_Fort " when they were unable to capture it in 1777 after fifty some days of seige.This seige is officially considered a battle of the American Revolution due to the British Governments aid in trying to run the settlers out of territory claimed by the King of England.It is interesting that I take a similar path across the Wilderness Road that our ancestors took over 200 years ago. The difference is that I travel the 150 miles or so in about three hours, whereas their journey took weeks, without McDonalds ,I might add. The same road was taken back through Middlesboro to Tennessee by the defeated Confederate army after the Battle Of Perryville in October of 1862. Of interest to Lincoln County is that along their retreat the Confederate Army took some 12 Gentlemen from Crab Orchard that were known Union sympathizers and hanged them on the river bank from a big sycamore tree in Pineville in sight of where the Pineville Hospital now sits. The leader of the hanged men was a Mr. King.The seige of Ft. Logan lasted over fifty days and two men were killed by the savages who camped on the bluff overlooking the creek, the present location of Buffalo Springs Cemetary. History doesn't tell how many savages were killed, but the settlers were notably better shots than the Shawnees with their smooth bore muskets. The description and size of FT. Logan was told to Lyman Draper by a Captain Briggs who was a resident of the fort. Draper wrote probably the best history of the frontier that has ever been achieved. He wrote thousands of pages of history from many direct interviews with actual pioneers in the mid 1800s, including the last son of Daniel Boone that he talked with in 1851. Draper wrote the definitive history and biography of Daniel Boone. His manuscripts are held by the University of Wisconsin. As I sit here tonight I am within earshot of where the Indians attacked the Fort in 1777. I often woder of what courage these pioneers had as they crossed the mountains, and how far we have come. Not content to cross over Cumberland Gap, we blasted under the mountain and now go through the tunnel, knocking off about 30 minutes of travel time. All along the route are buffalos serenely grazing in the park areas. I found that they are on loan from a man named Estes who has a whole herd on a hillside between Jonesville and Pennington Gap. They are huge ,formidable beasts that provided a lot of food to the pioneers.I wish the modern pioneers success with the fort reconstruction, but I am happy with modern Stanford with our red caboose and renovated downtown. Just let Ben Logan stay in Shelbyville.

Don't call me a turkey.......turkey!

Today I was coming from a job site in Campbellsville when I decided to cut adross from highway 68 to Gravel Switch and Bradsfordsville, and bypass Danville and Boyle County. These roads are always quite scenic and not crowded with any traffic but farmers and lost travellers. Most of the road runs along side little streams and creeks and wildlife is always abundant. Today seemed to be hawk day as there were countless of these badboys sitting along the trees and utility poles waiting for the next meal, but never seeming to be in a hurry. AS Steve Earl said in his song you don't have to hurry when you're at the top of the food chain. It seems there has been a steady increase in red tail hawk numbers since they have become federally protected. I've noticed several on the side of the road eating roadkill like their trashy cousins the vultures. It seems numbers increasing coorelates to lazy hawks, much like game playing American youth. I often see shiny black crows eating dead animals on the black top as well. I wonder if the birds have warning labels about cholesterol and recommended daily allowances?Do you think Mr. Hawk worries about the fat grams in that big old fat possum? I think he's more worried about that old F-150 bearing down on him with the redneck sophomores from Hustonville trying to run over his regal ass. As I was almost in Bradsforville I came upon this flock of wild turkeys foraging next to the road. There were about 20 of these odd creatures in this flock ,eating everything in their path, much like the locusts of Biblical days. Now this has become a billion dollar business as hunters have forsaken traditional game like the deer to pursue turkeys. My nephew only hunts them with a bow. One would think a bird with a brain the size of a small nut would be easy to snare, but not so ! These wily creatures are so difficult to shoot that hunters buy several thousand dollars worth of gear to camoflage themselves for the kill. I stopped to snap a picture and the birds that were content to graze while My car was moving suddenly took flight across the front of my car.Now these awkward looking birds took flight rapidly and quite efficiently, and flew quite a distance to land atop the tree covered knob to the right of my car, and promptly disappeared. Old Ben Franklin wanted to make the wild turkey our national bird, but got out-voted for the Bald Eagle by cooler heads in the early beginnings of our nation. Turkeys don't have teeth and swallow acorns whole. This rough food is pulverized in their gizzards by ingested rocks and minerals.All in all the turkey is a gross and remarkable creature. I can only testify that the legs taste mighty good at Disney World.The creatures certainly bested me today, but they didn't have chili for supper like I did. FRom the looks of me maybe I should be eating acorns and nuts.

Delta isn't ready when you are

This past December we were ready for our Christmas trip to New York City. On December 14th the crew was on its way to fly out the next morning to the Big Apple out of Louisville. I don't know why Lexington cannot be competitive, but we have to drive 100 miles to SDF to save several hundred dollars on flights. Somehow this trip was destined to never be as we were sitting on I-64 waiting to enter the Watterson Expressway when Crash!!. This over- intoxicated bimbo runs into the back of our car! She sits in the drivers seat of her Explorer for perhaps 10 minutes before she decides to join Dave and me outside in the crisp Jefferson County evening air. It takes this woman this long to get out and what does she say? Not "Are You Hurt", or "Is Everyone Okay?" No, she asks,"What are you going to do?"Her exact words. When I tell her I had called 911 she just said"Oh". Well to make a simple story end , she subsequently blew a.135 on the breathlizer(sp?). Well the Impala was drivable, so we went on to the motel in hopes of flying out the next morning; while the silent maiden accompanied the Metro policeman to her own Gray-bar hotel for the night. Somehow I feel that well dressed 48 year old women should have better things to do than be drunk at 6:30 pm on a Friday Evening. Maybe it's a husband issue.The next morning we thankfully boarded our Delta sponsored commuter Chatauqua jet for Cincinnati, or so we thought. Our young Skyking Pilot had us pushed off from the gate and said due to icy weather we were number 2 to be de-iced for take-off. Wrong . Four hours later we had watched every big Delta jet in Louisville roll up and be de-iced and depart on schedule. Our little Chatauqua just sat there like a ship of the damned. He finally rolled up to the gate , and one half of the plane jumped off. We had endured no food, lies, and extreme heat to no avail. Delta reluctantly refunded our tickets but gave no apologies. The Delta manager in charge was a perfect jerk, even saying Delta had no guarantee over the Chatauqua commuter. I wonder who he thought sold us the tickets. I do know that seven in our party will never fly Delta again, or Chatauqua, not that it matters to either. I wrote to both airlines and Chatauqua didn't even bother to respond. Delta came back with a syrupy, whiny-assed reply telling of conditions beyond their control. All I can say is Delta's entire crew at SDF was at wit's end on how to help us, and incapable of the simplest social graces. Did they not have mamas's who taught them how to say"We're Sorry"? And as for the manager at the ticket counter named Don, I hope you feel like you did your job. Maybe you should try a vocvation where you don't have to have contact with people. I realize you probably don't have much education, do you? We drove home in a cold rain while others visited Rockefeller Center or sat next to our non-refundable empty seats for Spamalot. Thanks to the drunken wench I have met a slew of new people in the form of insurance agents and insurance adjusters. It's amazing how little your car is worth when a drunken person plows into the back. Plus we all got subpoened to traffic court from the offices of Mr. Irv Mize in Jefferson County. A nice lady called the Victim's Advocate called for my account and excused us from court unless the lady pleads innocent. In that case we have to drive 100 miles to Louisville and testify she hit my car. I hope if we have to go that the Delta crews , the insurance adjuster, the pilot, and all of the people involved have to testify., but that's not going to happen , is it?As I traveled to the site of one of my jobs this week I thought of this mixed up adventure. The Impala still travels along at 80 MPH with its broken taillight and dented rear but its growing on me, kinda like the Rat Rods , you know. Scars add interest to western heroes' faces, so maybe the dented ass-end adds class to the Impala.I stopped to use the restroom at Pall Mall, Tennessee and checked out the old mill at Sgt. York's park. A long way from Louisville Airport and Delta, but one of life's simpler pleasures. I'm listening to Fergie and Natasha Bedingfield on the cd player and it seems right going through Fentress County, Tennessee. Tomorrow its I-75 and Knoxville. 85 MPH and the Foo Fighters. I'm saving Fergie for the trip down Jellico Mountain.