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****BREAKING NEWS***

Trump Saves Bag Full of Kittens From Drowning in the Potomac River

Joining us to live today is Rachel Madcow who is reporting live from Washington DC.. What can you tell us Rachel?

Well Bob, as you can see, the President is behind me being toweled off by the secret service and served some hot cocoa.  What we have been told is that Trump and his motorcade were driving past this point in the Potomac river when the President noticed something strange bobbing in the river. He leapt from the backseat of the Beast, clamped his hand like a vice on the clavicle of the driver and ordered his driver to pull over. He exited the car and heard meowing sounds. Without hesitation he jumped into the river."

What I really need to ask is why? Why would he do that? For all we know those kittens could be carrying some disease that will now likely spread throughout the animal shelter they were taken too. 

Once again, this appears to be a story of Trump trying to stay in the spotlight. The man has an ego the size of Russia. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Putin ordered him to jump into the river. 

It also highlights the fact that he appears to care more about kittens than the average American. Will anyone save the elderly from his cutting Medicare and Social Security benefits? Will anyone save all those Federal workers who are now unemployed because of DOGE? After all, Federal workers are part of the backbone of this country like your neighborhood mechanic, plumber, auto plant worker, and small business owner.

Back to you Bob.

 Sharing in another spot...

Warmth and Light Bid Thee Adieu

Beyond tomorrow and the moments that make up the now,

sunlight slips away into the grasps of lengthening shadows

No clawing nails, harrowing up parallel paths in the dirt,

soldiers of winter step in cadences fit for funerals

trails of crumbled canopy crowns once green, now brittle

lead the way, fertilizer for the future.

Crunching crystalized dew snaps the attention

of gatherers, harvesters, and panicked daydreamers alike

Sleep away. Sleep away. Sleep away sorrows and disappointing yields

from fields now barren, a sterile and impotent womb as wide as the horizon

nothing preserved, nothing to persevere.

The solstice of summer, a waning memory.

-LHayes

I've paid for a rock concert just once in my life. It was a Styx concert. There have been many bands I've wanted to see, but the timing, place, and life circumstances made a Styx concert possible. However, I was so disappointed that Dennis DeYoung was not part of that concert. It was part of their Brave New World tour (sometime around 1999). Dennis DeYoung is my main reason for liking Styx. I have not cared for any of their post-Dennis DeYoung music.

A Tribute

I recently had the opportunity to take my family back to Paradox. It had been too long since our last visit. My two youngest had never been there. While we were there, a very memorable event happened.

This year my dad will turn 77. You make ask what is so significant about that? A lot of people live to be 77 in this day and age. But not every one lives that long before they finally lose the crown they have been wearing for over 50 years. What crown am I referring to? The crown that belongs to the King of Hayes Horseshoes. My father had never lost a game of horseshoes to any of his posterity until last week. That my friends is a long time to reign.

I once recall hearing a story of a latter-day prophet who was well into his 70's before any of his children (or grand-children) could outdo him when it came to working in the fields.

So my reason for sharing this story is not to brag about beating my father, but to commend him for ruling the roost for so long.

Thank you for helping teach me perseverance. And thank you for being a good enough sport to not ban me from Paradox.

  

Venturing into the Absurd

And so we enter another chapter where the minds of my children are being subjected to the absurd… in Cub Scout Day Camp of all places. This isn’t the first time and it’s sure to not be the last either. This week has been the week-long annual Cub Scout Day Camp and I had the opportunity to attend the first two days with my third oldest boy. On Monday, one of the instructors as giving her spiel about flag ceremonies and asked the question, what do you do if you are having a flag ceremony and you don’t have a flag to salute or even the flag patch on a uniform to salute. . She responded, “You can salute the moon because there was a flag planted on the moon”. I’m sorry, but I’m not about to salute the moon. Guess what? If ever I am in the situation where someone is expecting a flag ceremony and we don’t have a flag… or a flag patch on a uniform to salute, I’m not saluting the moon.


Then on Tuesday, the boys were learning about the solar system when the instructor asked what the name was for the third planet from the sun. Earth! was the unanimous response by the boys. Whereupon we learned that “Earth” is incorrect. The name “Earth” just means dirt and can apply to any planet in the universe that has dirt. The real name is “Tera” and we aren’t Earthlings. We are Terans.


And because it was 2-for-Tuesday, she asked what do we call the “moon” that orbits our planet? Luna! she replied.

 
In departing from the reality tour, I will continue the apology tour by once again saying “I’m sorry”. I refuse to refer to the Earth as Tera. I will continue to use the word Earthlings and I will not call the moon Luna.

Conversation Killer

After three non-university-backed studies and nearly twenty interviews, linguists from the farthest reaches of Nevada, North Dakota and  Mississippi  have come to the conclusion that I ought to be officially categorized into the online/social media "conversation killer" group. I seem to have a knack for posting comments on blogs and Facebook that have a habit of becoming the last comment. Dead last, hence the term conversation killer. What remains a mystery, is why? It's not like I'm always making comments about death, illness, hygiene, taxes, meatloaf, or Justin Bieber.  For anyone interested in proving me wrong, feel free to review any of the post you have made and see how many times other people have posted after me. It's quite impressive, from a pessimistic point of view.

February 28, 2013

Apparently Big Bird is the latest victim of the recession. Proving that the economy is no respecter of persons. Big Bird was seen patiently waiting for his number to be called at the local unemployment office in downtown New York City. Our news team caught up with Big Bird as he was leaving the building.

 
So Big Bird, any luck in finding a new job?


No Bob. It seems like I am unemployable. My case worker asked what work experience I had. I told him I had spent the last 37 years talking to an imaginary shaggy elephant and some grouchy hand puppet that lives in a garbage can. I showed her that I could count to 12, rattled off my ABCs... the works. I also mentioned that I like to nap. Apparently that didn’t equate into any real life skills.


Have you looked into becoming a mascot for a professional athletic team?


Of course, but folks don’t seem to think of a giant sized yellow bird as intimidating enough. They said I would need an extreme makeover, like dying my features red or shaving my head, or getting a pedi to turn these chicken feet into “talons”. How could I ever look at myself in the mirror and like what I see when I’m pretending to be something I am not?



What about running for some political office?



Bob, that’s not a bad idea. You could to be my campaign manager!



Could you introduce me to Mr. Snuffleupagus?



Of course. He’s standing right next to you.