Unwinding

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Perhaps the copy has nothing to do with the video, but then maybe it does. Since I found out that my oldest son is destined for Iraq, I've been giving a little thought about what it means to be an American. Well, regardless, it's still the greatest country on earth. But, you know, sometimes I think that he folks in and around the wedding cake building have lost touch with reality. Look at some of the current goings on. Businesses are now being rewarded for being bad businesses. Billions of dollars are earmarked for failing banking institutions and those banks use the money to buy more banks. Let's not forget the infamous junkets of the top executives. I'm amazed at the lengths people will go to achieve sub-human status. And auto execs flying to Washington for a hand-out in their multi-million-dollar executive jets. I tell you, the folks working at McDonald's and Joe's Tire Shop are getting ticked off about this. This country was built by men with dirt under their fingernails and women that sweat. The average wage-earner is being crapped on by the government. How about those auto workers making $73 per hour. Now Detroit is trying to hide behind the fact that federal regulation is causing them to be less profitable. Not so! They pay their help too much. For those of you that remember, the auto industry used to say that cheap labor from overseas made the Japanese cars more popular. That was partly true, BUT the big reason was that the imports were better made. Better quality. The American auto business would never have lost their competitive edge if they had offered the buying public less expensive quality product. I don't think that the American auto industry is dead. It's probably not that easy to fix, but if they cut out half the management and cut wages by 50%, that would be a start to a recovery. Let bad businesses fail!. If people buy something they can't afford to pay for, let them lose it. The economy can fix it's self. The government is not the organization to repair business. It's still the greatest place in the world to live.

Sometimes you gotta rant!

TW3

That was, the week, that was. I used this title for this post. Actually, it was the title of a television show of many years ago. A show of political satire I believe. It was cancelled. Political satirist don't seem to last very long on commercial television. It was an interesting week.

1. I caught a sever cold
2. my big screen TV crashed
3. a volunteer project became a nightmare
4. my oldest son has military orders to Iraq
5. my ex-wife wants to be my friend on facebook!

Nuff said.

TW3

The Oil Change

Let me tell you how all this happened.
Well, you see, my wife come in and said that she had just had the oil changed on her Toyota for only $21. Said she paid $20 for the oil change and $1 for a cup of coffee. 'Course I could tell that I had not changed her oil on her schedule by the way she said it. She prob'ly went by the owner's manual, so she done it herself.

I said, " I change my own oil so I'll know it's done right!" and I added, "I think I'll change mine now." Knowing all the time the old F-100 had about 16000 miles since the last oil change.

I left the house and me and Duke, he's my dog, went down to Auto Zone to get a case of oil. I stopped by Joe's Party Shop on the way back to get a case of beer. It was a hot July day and I didn't want to get dehydrated.

We got back to the house about a quarter to ten and I pulled the tab on my first beer and started to work. Duke started on a nap and before long I could tell he was dreaming 'bout chasin' rabbits. I found WCKY on the radio and Tanya Tucker was singing "When I die I may not go to heaven..." and I got the truck positioned over the ditch where I usually change the oil. Finally, I found that old dishpan I used to catch the oil in. For the looks of it she had been using it to carry dirt to plant flowers. I pulled another tab and started to work. for some reason I couldn't find the right wrench to pull out the oil pan plug and wound up using an adjustable. I hate to use 'em. Well the wrench slipped of the nut and I skinned a knuckle and uttered a few choice words that I didn't learn in Sunday school. Naturally the plug fell in the pan and splashed hot oil on me. I uttered a few more choice words, climbed out from under the car, and grabbed a tee shirt from outa the truck to wipe off the hot oil. Then I noticed that it was my Rusty Wallace Blue Duece tee shirt. It was the one autographed by Rusty hisself at the last Southern 500 me and Mudcat Larson went to. I figured that a cold beer was just what I needed to cool off a bit, so I pulled a tab. When I started to pour the oil in I realized that I hadn't changed the oil filter. I looked all over that carport for that oil filter wrench and finally used the old tried and true method:drove a screwdriver through it and twisted it off. Got the new one on okay. Had another beer. As I was pouring in the first quart of oil I noticed a sound like a liquid being poured into a bucket or something. Then I realized that I hadn't replaced the drain plug in the oil pan. I banged my head on the hood and scrambled to pull the pan out from under the car. I got the plug out of the pan and managed to get it installed again by using the adjustable wrench. I had really worked up a sweat by now and needed a cold beer r

eally bad. So I grabbed me one and pulled the tab top but I had so much oil on by hands that the can slipped right through my hand and spilled on the ground. Now I'm not a tender hearted guy, but when I see a perfectly good cold beer spilled out on the ground. It almost brought tears to my eyes. I opened another one, sucked it down and finished the oil change. After closing the hood I thought I'd just finish off the last beer before going down to Auto Zone to get another quart of oil to replace the one that I had lost by not having the oil pan drain plug in. I threw all the empty beer cans in the back of the truck 'cause Darlene would give me what for for litterin' up the front yard of the double-wide. So I cranked up the old F-100 and Duke jumped in beside me for the ride to Auto Zone. The old truck sounded real good with those duel exhausts and they was playing Skynard on the radio. Life was getting better!

Jus' when I was pulling out into 176 the blue light flashed and the siren howled. I muttered something not very nice to myself and drove the truck over to the side of the road, Duke was still nappin'. And who should appear in my rear view mirror but Dickie Johnson. Dickie is the local law around here. Dickie never cared too much for me since I bloodied his nose on the playground in the fourth grade. And then, ole Duke became the proud poppa of his dawg Lucy's litter of pups. He sauntered up beside the truck swinging his billy club in his hand.
"Well, well, what we got here? I believe it's Bubba Thrailkill!" he said through his grin. There's a name for the kind of grin he had but I ain't gonna use it here. Mama might read dis.
"Hey, Dickie." I says, "Long time, no see."
"Been doin' a little drankin' have you?"
"Not me! Nosiree!"
"Well, sir, I just believe you have. Look at all them beer cans in that truck bed." he said, still a grinnin'.
" I think you better take a little ride with me, Mister Bubba Thrailkill . And I believe we got us a DUI!"
So Duke and me was put in the back seat of the police car.
I says, "Dickie, they ain't got no door handles back here in this car!"
"They don't want you jumpin' out."
"But what if there's and accident."
"I'm a safe driver, don' concern yo'self"
"I think you violatin' my rights!"
Dickie started to get kinda mean and ugly when I said that and I remembered somthin' my daddy told me onct. He said that man with the star was always right even when he was wrong.

Well ole Dickie hauled me and ole duke down to the cop house. He put me in a cell while I was complaning about leaving my truck by the side of the road. He said he'd take care of and that kinda bothered me. But I decided that I would be good 'cause I was at what you might call a disadvantage. I noticed that there was a new toilet in the cell and Dickie tolt me that I could go home if I just paid a fine but I would still have to go to court in a coupla weeks. I said, "Okay, I'll use my one phone call to call Darlene"

"Sweetheart, you ain't gonna believe what happened!" I says on the phone. And then I tolt her.
"I'll come get you out, but I'm not gonna use my money. Where's your check book at?", there was a hint of irritation in her voice. I wished I coulda seen her. She looked real good when she got her dander up like that!
She came and got me out and pretty soon we were on the way to get the truck out of the impound yard. Yeah, that costed me too. Just one last stop and then we could go home. I had to get Duke. Down at the humane society I found ole Duke. These women were takin' care of him. I really don't understand those women at animal shelters. They say it's not right to pull out a tomcat's claws so he can't tear up your furniture, but think it's a good thing to have him castrated. I wonder what the ole tomcat would think about that?

Well I finally got home and went into the kitchen, got me a glass of cold iced tea and sat down at the kitchen table. Darlen comes in and leaning on the doorway asks, "How much did that oil change cost you? Mine was only $21 and that included a cup of coffee."

I looked at my check book and started to figure. She took it out of my hand saying that she wanted an accurate figure and said it costed something like this:

• $25.00 oil and filter
• $2500.00 DUI fine
• $100.00 impound fee-truck
• $75.00 impound fee-Duke

Total $2700.oo

I know it costed a lot to change my oil but at least I KNOW IT WAS DONE RIGHT!

Veterans Day

There was the thunder of drums as the color guard moved
forward. We were at the Lightsey Chapel at Charleston Southern University. It
was a Veterans Day musical celebration. Images of that symbol of America, the
eagle, were flashed on the overhead as the band played The Star Spangled
Banner. It brought a tear to the eye of true Americans. Throughout the
performances of patriotic music I thought of those men honored on this day. Oh,
sure, there were the generals and admirals honored for great accomplishments,
but what about the rest of us? Not career soldiers but regular guys who heard
the call to go to the aid of their country? Men that were mechanics,
carpenters, farmers, and laborers. The measure of the true backbone of our
defenses, indeed the measure of American manhood. And some, some would make the
supreme sacrifice. I have always been proud of my own military heritage. My
ancestors have never been admirals or generals, but soldiers and sailors. They served during the American
Revolution, Civil War, WWI, WWII, Korean War and Viet Nam. I have a son who
continues to serve in the US Navy. All returned but one. The video is homage to
Uncle John.