While waiting in line to check out at a Christian bookstore, a man in front of me asked the clerk about a display of hats with the letters WWJD on them. The clerk explained that WWJD stands for "What would Jesus do?" and that the idea is to get people to consider this question when making decisions.
The man pondered a moment, then replied, "I don't think he'd pay $17.95 for that hat."
Not really, but I thought this was funny.
6/30/2009
6/25/2009
SPAM???
Apparently if you have a blog for 3 years and you finally breakdown and upgrade to the latest greatest version of blogger, (which isn't quite as great as they think it is) you to can have your blog classified as "spam".
I almost didn't get their email message about my new classification as a SPAM blog. They send it out on an automated system and my ISP filter rightly classified Bloggers email as SPAM. Apparently its OK for them to SPAM you about their misguided belief that your blog is spam.
So if this blog is deleted automatically you know what happened.
I so love having to type word verification to post too. I guess googles business model now includes making their products less user friendly. Being a pain in the arse must be more profitable and produce better content. That or its a way for computer geeks to have a "program" to run so they can keep their jobs and avoid working for a living.
I almost didn't get their email message about my new classification as a SPAM blog. They send it out on an automated system and my ISP filter rightly classified Bloggers email as SPAM. Apparently its OK for them to SPAM you about their misguided belief that your blog is spam.
So if this blog is deleted automatically you know what happened.
I so love having to type word verification to post too. I guess googles business model now includes making their products less user friendly. Being a pain in the arse must be more profitable and produce better content. That or its a way for computer geeks to have a "program" to run so they can keep their jobs and avoid working for a living.
6/24/2009
2009 License Results
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| License Type: | Results | Area/Type |
For those of you who might not know what the heck this post is, its my draw results for this years hunting season. In WYO you have to draw to get licenses in certain areas. The reason is that they limit the harvest to control herd health. I buy my deer tag over the counter because I don't care about hunting trophy mulies. I didn't draw a moose or a sheep (bummer but expected). Look down at the elk area. What that code means is that I drew one of the best units in the entire state for large bulls that is Grizzly and wolf free. Every year when the snow flies the elk migrate out of the Black Hills of South Dakota down one of 3 major travel corridors and I have a hunting license for one of the best areas in state. More importantly I have an "any elk" tag, which means I can shoot a bull.
I'm so excited I can't sleep now.
Lunch with an Illegal
I had today off from work and needed to go to town. There is a new Mexican place in town and I wanted to try it. From all appearances the restaurant looked to be a mom and pop fast food Mexican place. We have one such Mexican place in town and its reasonably good and the prices are cheap. Having had good luck at Maria's I thought I'd give it a go.
The restaurant turned out to be a Mexican chicken and rib joint. There are 4 choices on the menu, roasted chicken, pork ribs, beef ribs and prime rib. You can get any of the above either Mexican style or American style. I opted for Mexican style roasted chicken. After I had about half of my lunch eaten, the owner came out to see how I liked my food. I told him it was good and that I liked his homemade salsas. His blending of cumin, cilantro, and dried mustard for a meat rub was a delight as well. I let him know that I appreciated him doing the extra work to make traditional food and not being just a fast food place.
He was pleased by my critique and disappeared into the kitchen.
A little while later he came out to let me know that the United States was about to beat Spain in football (soccer). As a general rule I care as much about sports as I do about whatever Barbra the the other nags are babbling about on "The View". I know its on. I know other people are interested and I can talk semi intelligently about some aspect of the topic for long enough to make some limited small talk. This strategy normally works for me. At least it works better than my old response of starring blankly and mumbling incoherently.
From what I gathered from my host, the US beating Spain in football (2 to 0) is an accomplishment akin to the Detroit Lions going undefeated for the season AND winning the Superbowl. Or in non-sports terms, it wold be like having Ron Paul be president AND Roy More being Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Apparently its just to fantastic to contemplate.
He made a couple trips back and forth from the kitchen to update me on the game happenings. Then he came out and and gave me the news. The US had won. I said that was too bad. Then it was his turn to stare blankly and mumble. Foolish me. I assumed the Mexican would be pulling for Spain. WRONG!!! He only roots for team USA. If the US was playing Mexico, he said, it would make him sad because he would still cheer for the US of A. He and his entire family were born in Mexico, but AMERICA is his country.
Then he told me his story.
When his oldest son was 8 he moved his family up to Wheatland WY so he could take a job as a ranch hand. He was only making enough money to just barely feed himself his wife and 5 kids. His boss had seen his little boy playing ball and he tried to get him to let the kid play little league. Now the 10 miles to town and back was more gas than he could see himself spending just to let the boy play baseball. He told his boss no. Well, in America a kid just ought to be able to play little league and the rancher said he'd take the boy into town for practice and games. So being shamed into the deal, he let his son play but he drove him in for games.
The boy (and dad) didn't know very much about baseball but the kid was a quick learner and did pretty good. One game they let the boy pitch an inning. 3 batters, 3 strike outs. Next game the same thing happened. It seems the only way the boy knew how to throw the ball was side arm and it would spin all over the place, but he could always hit the catchers mitt. Nobody could hit off the kid including the older boys.
After a couple of years the son gets to play around the state and they do well because of his pitching. Pretty soon dad is getting to hang out with the other parents and gets a better job, the boy goes to highschool and then he gets to go to college. The son never goes pro or anything like that, he's good but its just a game not a passion. The family works hard and saves. The son graduates college and gets a very good job at a coal mine. Then this last year dad gets a chance to start his own restaurant. Do you know what Jose takes the most pride in? His son is now a citizen.
He likes other sports. His kid even played American style football till he blew his knee out and had surgery at 19. Soccer is what he likes best. America is the best country on earth. Even though our soccer team apperntly isn't the greatest, there is a border jumper now living in Wyoming, that cheers for team USA.
The restaurant turned out to be a Mexican chicken and rib joint. There are 4 choices on the menu, roasted chicken, pork ribs, beef ribs and prime rib. You can get any of the above either Mexican style or American style. I opted for Mexican style roasted chicken. After I had about half of my lunch eaten, the owner came out to see how I liked my food. I told him it was good and that I liked his homemade salsas. His blending of cumin, cilantro, and dried mustard for a meat rub was a delight as well. I let him know that I appreciated him doing the extra work to make traditional food and not being just a fast food place.
He was pleased by my critique and disappeared into the kitchen.
A little while later he came out to let me know that the United States was about to beat Spain in football (soccer). As a general rule I care as much about sports as I do about whatever Barbra the the other nags are babbling about on "The View". I know its on. I know other people are interested and I can talk semi intelligently about some aspect of the topic for long enough to make some limited small talk. This strategy normally works for me. At least it works better than my old response of starring blankly and mumbling incoherently.
From what I gathered from my host, the US beating Spain in football (2 to 0) is an accomplishment akin to the Detroit Lions going undefeated for the season AND winning the Superbowl. Or in non-sports terms, it wold be like having Ron Paul be president AND Roy More being Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Apparently its just to fantastic to contemplate.
He made a couple trips back and forth from the kitchen to update me on the game happenings. Then he came out and and gave me the news. The US had won. I said that was too bad. Then it was his turn to stare blankly and mumble. Foolish me. I assumed the Mexican would be pulling for Spain. WRONG!!! He only roots for team USA. If the US was playing Mexico, he said, it would make him sad because he would still cheer for the US of A. He and his entire family were born in Mexico, but AMERICA is his country.
Then he told me his story.
When his oldest son was 8 he moved his family up to Wheatland WY so he could take a job as a ranch hand. He was only making enough money to just barely feed himself his wife and 5 kids. His boss had seen his little boy playing ball and he tried to get him to let the kid play little league. Now the 10 miles to town and back was more gas than he could see himself spending just to let the boy play baseball. He told his boss no. Well, in America a kid just ought to be able to play little league and the rancher said he'd take the boy into town for practice and games. So being shamed into the deal, he let his son play but he drove him in for games.
The boy (and dad) didn't know very much about baseball but the kid was a quick learner and did pretty good. One game they let the boy pitch an inning. 3 batters, 3 strike outs. Next game the same thing happened. It seems the only way the boy knew how to throw the ball was side arm and it would spin all over the place, but he could always hit the catchers mitt. Nobody could hit off the kid including the older boys.
After a couple of years the son gets to play around the state and they do well because of his pitching. Pretty soon dad is getting to hang out with the other parents and gets a better job, the boy goes to highschool and then he gets to go to college. The son never goes pro or anything like that, he's good but its just a game not a passion. The family works hard and saves. The son graduates college and gets a very good job at a coal mine. Then this last year dad gets a chance to start his own restaurant. Do you know what Jose takes the most pride in? His son is now a citizen.
He likes other sports. His kid even played American style football till he blew his knee out and had surgery at 19. Soccer is what he likes best. America is the best country on earth. Even though our soccer team apperntly isn't the greatest, there is a border jumper now living in Wyoming, that cheers for team USA.
6/12/2009
1st Lossers
Its been over a week and I'm just now getting to post the results of my little annual adventure in competitive shooting. I only shot one class this year, unlimited pistol. My results:
500 yards: Second place.
750 yards: Second place.
1,000 yards: Second place.
Earlier this year I remarked to a certain friend of mine that another friend of ours (a former SEAL) would potentially make a good spotter. My plan being to recruit a certain PO to be MY spotter. Apparently I made some remark back in March about not knowing if I would be competing due to my job situation this year. My "friend" took this to be a green light to recruit "my" spotter. Team Goose beat me at both 500 and 750 yards. The lose at 750 is particularly bitter since they only won by 7/8ths of an inch and I knew pulled my last shot in the relay. First place at 1,000 yard went to the Son of Goose. At 15 he came VERY close to shooting a worlds record. His first 4 shots were sub 3in at 1,000 yards. His last shot went wide and caused him to have a 8in group. Not too shabby considering the 20 to 35 mile an hour winds we were shooting in that day.
In production class (which I didn't shoot) some guy from Ohio took 1st at 500 and 750. The 1,000 yard match was won by a young lady from SD. She did very well for herself. At the tender age of 15 she managed to flat out whip some of the best shooters in the US, including team Goose.
500 yards: Second place.
750 yards: Second place.
1,000 yards: Second place.
Earlier this year I remarked to a certain friend of mine that another friend of ours (a former SEAL) would potentially make a good spotter. My plan being to recruit a certain PO to be MY spotter. Apparently I made some remark back in March about not knowing if I would be competing due to my job situation this year. My "friend" took this to be a green light to recruit "my" spotter. Team Goose beat me at both 500 and 750 yards. The lose at 750 is particularly bitter since they only won by 7/8ths of an inch and I knew pulled my last shot in the relay. First place at 1,000 yard went to the Son of Goose. At 15 he came VERY close to shooting a worlds record. His first 4 shots were sub 3in at 1,000 yards. His last shot went wide and caused him to have a 8in group. Not too shabby considering the 20 to 35 mile an hour winds we were shooting in that day.
In production class (which I didn't shoot) some guy from Ohio took 1st at 500 and 750. The 1,000 yard match was won by a young lady from SD. She did very well for herself. At the tender age of 15 she managed to flat out whip some of the best shooters in the US, including team Goose.
6/01/2009
Of Trades
Education is a good thing. Having someone "rubber stamp" your education and call it a college degree can also be a good thing, if that is something you can market and get paid for having. Conventional wisdom says that having a couple of those rubber stamped documents means that you can set back and collect a decent paycheck and enjoy a comfortable standard of living.
A trade is something else entirely. A trade is a way of marketing a tangible skill that people need and will pay for. A plumber has a trade. If your plumbing quits working, you need it fixed. You can either fix it yourself or call a guy that will show up and charge you an hourly rate nearly equal to that of a doctors office visit to unstick your poop out of your pipes. In a trade you do a job that other people don't want to or can't do for themselves and they pay you to handle that work for them.
In order to pay for my expensive private school rubber stamp, I had to work at a trade. For years I busted my backside doing every stinking job in an industry that I first thought would be fun but latter learned to hate. Doing that got me a piece of paper that in turn helped me get another piece of paper from another private and expensive paper mill. Finally I had that all important terminal meal ticket, the masters degree. Which has proved to have its perks at different times and has made me money, when people were paying me for my opinion and the corresponding report that furthered their personal agendas.
Then I got a trade in the energy industry. A headhunter looked me up last summer and wanted me to go back into running a bank. She knew I had the aforementioned pieces of paper as well as the experience needed for a fancy title job. She mocked me a little bit for what I was doing, since I have an "education". I asked her if the bank job included a company car. It didn't. My job afforded me a company truck. I asked if the bank job would pay me for all the extra hours I would need to invest in it. It wouldn't. I told her I was paid overtime. Then I asked her about the pay. I was on track to make $5,000 more for the year than I would have, if I made all the incentive bonuses at the bank.
Then I lost my job. After being out of steady work almost a year, I saw an ad in the paper. I typed up a resume highlighting skills I hadn't used in nearly 20 years. I emailed it in like they asked. At 8:05 am the secretary called me. I had an interview. Shortly after that I had a second interview and a job offer. I hate my life right now. I would love to have a better job or some paying customers. I like having a place to go to work everyday. Even though I'm making almost half what I was with no benies, I do have a job. Which is something more than many other people have right now.
Get your kids an education. Go ahead and help them get a well recognized rubber stamp with little ivy leafs if that is something you are able to do. Go one step further. Help them get a trade as well. Send them to get a CDL or a hairdressers license. Get them into something that will provide them with a skill that they can market. College is 4 years and every summer provides an opportunity to learn a trade that they can fall back on. They may never need to do that job again. Or they may find themselves in mid-life with a family to support and a dwindling savings account. A trade gives you an option, and having the option to work when others don't is a blessing indeed.
A trade is something else entirely. A trade is a way of marketing a tangible skill that people need and will pay for. A plumber has a trade. If your plumbing quits working, you need it fixed. You can either fix it yourself or call a guy that will show up and charge you an hourly rate nearly equal to that of a doctors office visit to unstick your poop out of your pipes. In a trade you do a job that other people don't want to or can't do for themselves and they pay you to handle that work for them.
In order to pay for my expensive private school rubber stamp, I had to work at a trade. For years I busted my backside doing every stinking job in an industry that I first thought would be fun but latter learned to hate. Doing that got me a piece of paper that in turn helped me get another piece of paper from another private and expensive paper mill. Finally I had that all important terminal meal ticket, the masters degree. Which has proved to have its perks at different times and has made me money, when people were paying me for my opinion and the corresponding report that furthered their personal agendas.
Then I got a trade in the energy industry. A headhunter looked me up last summer and wanted me to go back into running a bank. She knew I had the aforementioned pieces of paper as well as the experience needed for a fancy title job. She mocked me a little bit for what I was doing, since I have an "education". I asked her if the bank job included a company car. It didn't. My job afforded me a company truck. I asked if the bank job would pay me for all the extra hours I would need to invest in it. It wouldn't. I told her I was paid overtime. Then I asked her about the pay. I was on track to make $5,000 more for the year than I would have, if I made all the incentive bonuses at the bank.
Then I lost my job. After being out of steady work almost a year, I saw an ad in the paper. I typed up a resume highlighting skills I hadn't used in nearly 20 years. I emailed it in like they asked. At 8:05 am the secretary called me. I had an interview. Shortly after that I had a second interview and a job offer. I hate my life right now. I would love to have a better job or some paying customers. I like having a place to go to work everyday. Even though I'm making almost half what I was with no benies, I do have a job. Which is something more than many other people have right now.
Get your kids an education. Go ahead and help them get a well recognized rubber stamp with little ivy leafs if that is something you are able to do. Go one step further. Help them get a trade as well. Send them to get a CDL or a hairdressers license. Get them into something that will provide them with a skill that they can market. College is 4 years and every summer provides an opportunity to learn a trade that they can fall back on. They may never need to do that job again. Or they may find themselves in mid-life with a family to support and a dwindling savings account. A trade gives you an option, and having the option to work when others don't is a blessing indeed.
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