It's Good to be King

I am the king of ala king.  Yes it's true here at the Ipsa household we have successfully subjugated the thanksgiving leftovers.  I made a large batch of turkey ala king, which was superb, even if the kids refused to try anything remotely featuring turkey.  With the help of my loyal dog, chow hound, we managed to regulate the remaining leftovers to smaller dishes that will become daddies lunch for the next week, or so.  Thus we conquered the leftover invasion that had occupied our refrigerator. 

This year we purchased an "all natural" turkey from a group of hutterites, as opposed to the synthetic kind offered in finer Wal Mart meat sections around the country. Mrs Ipsa insists that I am mispronouncing hutterites.  According to her I'm saying Hooterites, which changes the focus to a different kind of breast meat.  I think its a Freudian thing on her part.  Either way dinner was yummy.

Hope your coping with a fridge full of blessings this year.   

Home for the Holiday

Res Jr. declared today, "the best Thanksgiving ever".  Mrs. Ipsa broke down and made the kids jello with marshmallows in it and served it on their plates with dinner.  Being able to eat dessert as a side dish with dinner is more than enough to put the day over the top for my son. 

Thanksgiving as a parent is a totally different holiday than it was as a kid.  Normally I'm not overly sentimental about such things. I enjoy special food.  I love turkey and pumpkin pie, since I seldom get them, I make it a point to appreciate my good fortune.

20 years ago today I was laying on my back in a hospital bed.  I was a college kid.  I had finished my last mid term around 8am on Tuesday and had driven the 2 hours home.  I dropped off my stuff and took my fathers car north to pick up my great grandmother for the holiday.  It was four and a half hours north and another four and a half back home.   My girlfriend had also made it back home, so after dumping grandma's stuff in the door I took off for greener pastures.  Around midnight I headed out from her place, but I was too wound up to sleep.  So I took a little drive.  According to the person behind me, the car gently slid across the country road I was on and flipped in the ditch.  He stopped and saw that a large number of steel posts had impaled the car.  Assuming I was dead he called the police to report the wreck.  They arrived and called for rescue and an ambulance.

I spent Thanksgiving in the hospital, and was released Friday afternoon, in time for me to return to school on Monday.

I started off writing this post wanting to talk about what it means to me to be "home".  "Home" being a farmhouse in northern Michigan that my grandparents built. It's a place now lost to me by circumstances I had no say or control over.  I miss it and wish I could go there again.  "Home" is place with people, now dead and gone, people I miss horribly at holiday time.  The rest of the year I can put them out of my mind.  Today I can't.

Today my son celebrated the best Thanksgiving ever.  My daughter got turkey grease all over everything including her pull up.  Everyone else is taking a post pumpkin pie nap.  I've cleaned up the turkey carcass and would be washing pots and pans if it wasn't for the very painful burn on my hand.  I hate flat top electric stoves.  Part of me feels I should be out behind grandma's in my blind that I bet is still there after all these years, waiting with my rifle, a portable heater and a turkey sandwich, for a buck to wander by.  If not that, I should be driving swamps with my cousins along the Black.  Is nearly dark there now a deer should be coming out of the swamp and heading towards the field, right in front of where I ought to be sitting.

My children will never know that place, but to them, they are home and today was a good day.

Happy Thanksgiving to you my friends.  May you thank God for the homes you have and the families you enjoy.  May next year be a even greater blessing than this last one.

Not a Joke Wednesday

You know Barack Obama is president when you order a burger at McDonalds and the kid behind the counter asks, "Can you afford fries with that?"

Obama claims that he has a balanced budget plan. It's exactly one half smoke and one half mirrors.

America once had Johnny Cash, Steve Jobs and Bob Hope. Now we have Barack Obama, no cash, no jobs and no hope.

Q. Why is Obama more popular in China than in America?  
A. He created jobs over there.

Q. What does Barack Obama intend to do about the Washington, D.C. earthquake?  
A. Blame it on George Bush.

Q. Why isn't TSA catching any terrorists?  
A. They don't screen passengers on Air Force One.

Q. What's the difference between Obama opponents and Obama supporters?  
A. The first group works for a living while the second group votes for a living.

Q. Why did Obama wait so long to release his birth certificate?  
A. He didn't have a registered copy of PhotoShop.

Q. What do you call the most powerful Muslim in the world?  
A. The President of the United States.

For Turkey Day

What did the mother turkey say to her disobedient children?
If your father could see you now, he'd turn over in his gravy!

Why do Pilgrims have trouble keeping their pants up?
'Cause they wear their belts on their hats!

What is the difference between a chicken and a turkey?
Chickens celebrate Thanksgiving!

What is the turkey's favorite black-tie celebration?
The Butter Ball.

What do you get when you cross a turkey, the beach, and Broomhilda? A turkey sand-witch.

What kind of music did Pilgrims listen to?
Plymouth Rock.

Why do turkeys eat so little?
Because they are always stuffed.

What key has legs and can't open doors?
Tur-key.

What sound does a space turkey make?
Hubble, hubble, hubble.

How do you keep a turkey in suspense?
I'll tell you at Christmas.

PC Running Amuck

When I was a kid (1970's) white people told back jokes.  They also told Pollock jokes, Mexican jokes, Asian jokes etc.  It was mostly in bad taste.  I say bad taste because it wasn't racist.  I remember asking a black kid one time if he knew any white jokes.  He knew lots of them.  So I guess blacks are just as guilty.



One of the jokes I remember him telling had something to do about all white people looking the same.  It was funny, because we had jokes about blacks all looking the same.  No harm, no foul, sometimes people form different races are hard for other races to tell apart.  Not a big deal right?

What if you live in California but your originally from Alabama? What if your kid is in a public school?  What if a black guy comes to school that looks like the president?  Is your kid a rasiss for saying so?  Yep and they will kick him out of school for it.  That's right whitey, no saying a black guy looks like another black guy, even if he does.  What if the white kid's family had a black man (a friend) stay with them for several months while he was looking for work? Nope still racist.  What if the black guy even says the white people are cool? Nope still racist.  Even having a black friend isn't enough to get other blacks and publik skool officials to believe your not a racist, cause your from Alabama and they saw Roots, so they know. 

Sad thing is, kicking a kid out of school for saying a black guy looks like another black guy, does make a point.  It makes several here they are:

1. Blacks now abuse the system, solely on the basis of race.
2. The public school system is about indoctrination not education and should be closed before it does more harm.
3. We have eradicated all serious forms of racism in America, since we have time to focus on these types of situations.
4. Hurting whitey is the most important thing, the truth is secondary. 
5. Little girls can have little boys kicked out of school, not because anything was done to them, or even said to them, they can be offended solely biased on what someone said another kid said.  They then can send mocking texts with no consequences.  Had the boy done that he would no doubt be arrested for bullying. 

We've come a long way from what blacks were trying to portray when I was a kid.

Hypocrite

I seem to remember that Warren Buffet has recently been going around the country telling us all how Obumer needs to tax rich guys like him MORE not less. Here's Buffet in his own words in the NY Times.  You can read it if you want.  Basically he thinks rich people should give the government more of their money.  Its a stupid opinion but its his and he's entitled to it.  Just like a crack whore is entitled to think that getting aids is a good thing because she doesn't have to worry about making guys put on a condom anymore.

The Obummer cartel took ole WB at his word and the IRS taxed Net Jet for flying rich people around in private jets.  Did the Sage of Omaha rejoice in getting his taxes raised, like he's been preaching?  After all who's better able to pay the taxes, rich guys in private jets or guys like me?  Nothing says excess wealth like having a pilot fly you around the country the way some people take a cab.   Is WB praising the IRS for doing exactly what he wanted, i.e. taxing the rich?

HECK NO! Warren Buffet is suing the IRS over paying a lousy $642 million of his fair share.

The ticket tax WB is pissed about is an indirect tax on people who have the money to fly PRIVATE JETS, because it would be so droll to fly first class commercial to the 10,000 foot weekend cottage in Aspen. Hey Warren, I'm in favor of the government cutting spending, paying off the debt, canceling the welfare state and CUTTING everybody's taxes.  BUT COMMON all ready you can't bitch about taxes being to low and then cry about a tax on people rich enough to take the Lear; when thanks to your buddies handling of the country, most of us can no longer afford to take our car for a weekend trip to see grandma.

HYPOCRITE!!!

Happy Birthday

To those of you, (Difster) you know who you are, that look upon Tun Tavern as your spiritual birth place, HAPPY BIRTHDAY.  Thank you for your service.

Oct 26, 2010

A little better than a year ago, I was at work, praying my hart out.  I've got family that sails the lakes, as well as friends I've not seen in years.  Even here the weather men were making comparisons to November 1975.  I couldn't help remembering a song we used to request Kim to sing at the Peanut Barrel or maybe Claddagh, in my college days.  We called it the "Dead Ship Song".  I guess that was a smug college kids way of dealing with something that I hadn't the least bit of a clue about.

The weather report that day had me worried. Gary was on the Jackson and they hadn't made port.  There is a web site that tracks ship movements.  I keep hitting refresh every couple of seconds, hoping to see the ship come up.  All it reported was that the Jackson was out of Duluth bound for the Rouge.

The waves on Superior were reported 30 to 40 foot with winds up to 90 miles an hour.  This was way worse than Nov 10, 1975.  I was just a boy then and I don't remember much of it, but I learned more about it as I got older.   Enough that in 1991 when I was offered a chance to sigh on as a cooks mate on the Paul R. Tregurtha, I turned it down.  Perhaps that was a dumb move.  If I'd done it, I'd have my 20 in this year and could retire at the end of season pulling down about $5k a month.

When I saw the Jackson had made port, I thanked God.  I also made a phone call, it went unanswered, just like the one I made a minute ago, but that as they say is another story.

HIgher Education

"Where did you receive your training?"

"Yale."

"Good. And what's your name?"

"Yim Yohnson."


Would you have read the post if I titled it Bad Joke Wednesday?

Internet Friends

I enjoy meeting people in real life that I've met on the blogs.  Its usually very enlightening.  Over the years I've had the chance to met several people and I've always enjoyed it.  Today I got to wondering, "what would happen if some of my internet friends got together for a weekend?"  For instance what would happen if Farmer Tom and Astrosmith had a couple of days to hang out?  Wonder no more.

Marines and Momma

The white haired women stands by the gate, it’s late and the day has been long.  Yet she waits.  A while latter a blond bounds through the doors and over to her.  Her walk is more of a bounce, a youthful skipping and hoping motion that to older eyes is annoying for its youthful vigor.  The older woman is both perturbed and amused.  “His plane isn’t here yet”, she offers.

“Oh good” the young girl giggles, “I want him to see me first”.  The girl is a blond of the dish water variety; not magazine cover drop dead eye candy, more of a solid old fashioned, girl next door kind of cute.  She’s not the school beauty but she runs in the top tier and most of the other girls probably envy her for being “the in crowd”.   Her perky B cups defy gravity briefly as she hops around excitedly.  “Oh he’s been gone so long” she sighs.  She is still wearing her green Albertson’s grocery store apron and she’s popped out over the top.  The older women just smiles at her exuberance and motions for her to “fix that” as another couple walk in.

The husband and wife come over to the gate.  They too look like it’s been a long day.  The wife has a cross look on her face as the blond introduces her to the first white haired lady.  “This is my mom, Mrs. X” she coos.  I can’t hear if the old biddy is actually saying hello or just nodding a terse acknowledgment.  A boy comes running in and asks the father if the plane is in yet.  The dad shakes his head in the negative.  Another young man with a short hair cut comes around the display case and assumes an at ease position behind the family.

This solves the mystery of who these people are.  The newest arrival looks to be all of 17 and is wearing a rust red jacket with an EGA on it.  The guy they are waiting for must have just finished boot camp and is coming home for leave.   I think I recognize the man.  If I remember correctly he is a pastor at a local church.  I don’t go to his church but I think I’ve seen him around town.  It looks like two of his boys enlisted.  That’s a proud thing.

A plane is taxing up to the gate.  Some travelers come in off the tarmac.  The youngest boy runs out the door.  This is a security breech.  The TSA blue crew sees, but does nothing.  The kid is a freshman, not Al Qaeda.  We still know the difference here.   His dad gives the boy a nervous “get over here now” motion and the young man comes back inside.   “I saw him” he says excitedly.  “I can tell by his walk, he walks like you do” he says to his older brother.  The young marine smiles and nods, but says nothing.

A very lean boy walks in the sliding doors and a blond girl bounces past his increasingly irate mother to get the first hug in.  They start clapping for him.  Then the passengers on his plane applaud, as do the other people waiting in the lobby.  I’m by the baggage claim and join in.  One of ours has come home, at least for a visit.

I get my first close look at the two brothers.  They look young, I can’t believe these two kids are old enough to drive.  The young man grabs his sea bags off the baggage belt, and sets them down.  His mom and dad are making all kinds of arrangements, or rather his mom is and dad is trying to pretend he still has a pair. Mom has now brushed the blond to the back and SHE is taking charge.  The girl looks rejected as her mother puts her hand on her arm and pulls her back.  The drama is compelling.

That’s when I notice something else.  The two brothers are both in civvies but they still wear combat boots.  A dog tag is laced up next to the tongue with just the eyelet showing.  The young man in the rust red jacket gives the new arrival a nod, as if to say “how was it”?  He shrugs.  No words are spoken, they nod and they know.  I can see the airline tags on the marines sea bags, two of them are in Arabic, one says Okinawa to L.A.  This isn’t a reunion after a 13 week trip to boot; this boy has been away for awhile.  

Neither one of these young men tip the scales at 150.  Neither one of them look old enough to drive.  You’d card them if they tried to get into an “R” rated movie.  The eyes tell a different story, a story older than their years.  As the group moves towards the exit mom moves to block the blond girl from coming with them.  I see the look in the girl friends eyes.  She chokes back a tear; her eager enthusiasm has been thwarted. 

I have heard it said that the number one thing a man dying on the field of battle asks for is his mother.  A man returning from battle wants something mom can’t give.  It's a kind of comfort but its more, it affirms life and manhood, in a way that momma can't.  He’s earned it.  "Hey mom, the innocence your trying to protect is gone, being a bitch isn’t gong to bring it back."

Voting

Have you ever bet on a fart, and lost?

You know it might stink. The important thing is, if its an SBD nobody else knows YOU did it.   What the heck. Right? To have the little sucker betray you and leave a skid mark worse; a greasy, all day odorous, skid mark, well that's just wrong, Right?

Voting the lessor of two evils is betting on a fart.  You know its going to stink.  You're just hoping it doesn't leave a big streak of poo on your back side.  It always does.  You'd think we'd learn not to do it.

Self Evident

I haven't made up my mind about the whole Occupy Wall Street thing.  Is the system fixed? Yeah as much as the players can fix it.  You don't send your kid to an Ivy League school for nothing.  There is a reason half the class go to fancy pants jobs and the other half goes to government procurement offices. That reason has nothing to do with the betterment of the country or a desire to serve "the Public".

But, and this is a big but, do the Occupiers have my best interests at hart?  I don't think so.  They get their funding from left wing political agitators like George Soros.  Who is George Soros anyway?  Apparently he's a rich guy too, according to this, worth about $22 Billion.  Not a bad chunk of change.  Did he go to a Ivy league school?  Does the London School of Economics count as Ivy, or does it just help you land a job doing arbitrage trades on Wall Street?  Cause thats what George did after college, which came after WWII.  George was too young to do much during the war.  Ever industrious though, George had a job handing out eviction notices to Jews who were going to the death camps and apparently he made a couple of bucks on the side pawning their left over belongings.  Seems like an odd enterprise for a Jewish kid.  Maybe he's just a tad flexible with the ethics when it comes to getting what he wants.

Occupy Wall Street, funded by Billionaire, Holocaust Profiteer George, Hedge-fund owner and Wall Street Insider, Soros.  WTF is this all about?  The guy bank rolling the protesters is one of the biggest inside traders of the last 50 Years.  What could be his motive?  Well if history is any indicator then the past might give us a clue to the present.  Is there a past?  The Brits call it, Black Wednesday.  The long and short of it is that during a little financial crisis, George Soros, with some fast and furious Forex trading, broke the Bank of England, and made about a Billion pounds sterling.  Remember the Asian Financial Crisis?  George Soros does, not sure how much he made on that one.  He thought it too little and lamented that they got out of the trades too early.  Apparently every seven to ten years or George needs to make a quick buck and he's not having any luck getting the Nazi's back together.

Occupy Wall Street seems to be a bit of theater, dressed up as social crisis to facilitate some Forex trades.  I'm just guessing here but I think George has shorted the dollar.  So George has set up his own little empire of concerned citizens  dumb ass pawns that do his bidding.  I guess we've got George's motive, whats theirs?

cosmetologist (ˌkɒzmɪˈtɒlədʒɪst)

—n

a person skilled or trained in the use of cosmetics and beauty treatments.

In my defense I thought the chick was a guy. I guess we all know why shes out of work, evil capitalist pigs.