tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9742297299766423142012-01-26T17:49:52.946-06:00Local Man Writes Own Blogdbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.comBlogger13861100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-86335581778532970242012-01-26T15:09:00.001-06:002012-01-26T17:49:52.957-06:00

It's been a nice day today -- mid 40s with very few signs of winter. So I spent some time outside, lying on my back, chewing a weed, looking up at the sky. My picture is of an actual cloud passing by. That's not a cloud from Google Images, but a cloud I personally saw and photographed! If you happened to see that very cloud, please let me know, because it'd be cool to have that in common with

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-48329827324775342502012-01-18T15:48:00.002-06:002012-01-18T15:48:57.360-06:00

My iPod's always looking for a wireless connection. Here's one it came up with today. I was right in Drew's neighborhood but I didn't know which house was his!

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-91105876333625827332012-01-16T16:09:00.003-06:002012-01-16T16:09:46.164-06:00

A few of you wrote in after my post yesterday on "My Upcoming Life of Crime" expressing concern about my plans. You had basically two objections: 1) The "bad example" I was setting for young people.2) Concerns for my reputation. Of course, I'm thankful for your concerns, and I understand what you're getting at. But with my new-found burgeoning criminal mindset, I must say, "Mind your own

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-64154802994122940882012-01-15T14:29:00.000-06:002012-01-15T14:29:43.078-06:00

I wanted to give everyone a heads-up on something, a fairly serious issue involving me so no one gets the wrong impression. I've always tried to keep my reputation pristine, on the blog and in real life. I've never been known to admit to any wrongdoing. If there's ever anything that ever happens, it's always someone else's fault. But that might change -- mostly concerning my reputation -- if

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-72073125178461977402012-01-13T13:59:00.001-06:002012-01-13T13:59:49.768-06:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about crime. I'm not myself a criminal, knowingly or actively. If I were, I wouldn't be writing about it, because I firmly believe the first rule of being a good criminal is to keep your mouth shut. But I do tend to think like a criminal, or how I imagine a criminal would think, since I used to think that if the Soviet Union ever took over the United States I

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-46259142165794596422012-01-09T12:32:00.000-06:002012-01-09T15:40:11.982-06:00

Today's post is dedicated to the memory of John Joseph Houghtaling, inventor in 1958 of the "Magic Fingers Vibrating Bed." A quarter brought 15 minutes of "tingling relaxation and ease." We remember with great fondness the vibrating bed. But unfortunately, most of them have been junked by now. Mostly because the original repairmen, long ago, threw away the schematics in a shortsighted,

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-42924153424787101462012-01-07T19:17:00.000-06:002012-01-08T13:52:11.634-06:00

I was out having ice cream. After a while, quite a few other customers were there. Suddenly, I noticed they were all women. I was the only guy. It made me think of what might happen if all the restrictions and mores of civilization were suddenly removed, like if we were all stranded hopelessly on a desert island. In that case, they'd probably notice me sitting there, instead of being oblivious

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-62958683098185829292012-01-06T10:23:00.000-06:002012-01-06T13:49:46.106-06:00

I was driving through town today and was interested to see that a particular church had moved out of their spot. I have a friend who works in the same building, and he's told me a thing or two about the church, in short, that they're noisy neighbors. But since there's no limits to religious liberty, more or less, no one's been able to quiet them. It reminds me of one time I visited a

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-31905670825117003752012-01-05T13:39:00.002-06:002012-01-06T05:45:47.422-06:00

Here's an idea I've been kicking around for quite a while, to found the Institute for Young Bloggers, and in this way influence the whole blogging scene, present and future. Now, with the New Year more or less upon us, although it's already Jan. 5 and slipping away, seems like a good time for it. It has been clear to me for some time that I am something of a patriarch in the world of blogging.

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-44608988917998230732012-01-02T15:33:00.000-06:002012-01-02T16:03:30.797-06:00

I've been saying for quite a while that "Tabasco sauce is nature's most perfect food." Most recently, just this morning, I said it again while out for breakfast. I love it on eggs. I love it on several things, tacos and pork chops being the biggies that come to mind. I've never drunk it straight from the bottle, which we were talking about at breakfast. But I have put it on my finger or palm

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-18654071180800837982012-01-01T10:19:00.001-06:002012-01-01T12:09:43.761-06:00

And so it ends ... not with a whimper but a bang ... Dale nails Delilah on my kitchen table and has the hammer come down on him as well ... And now they're both out! Meaning, as far as this blog's Board of Editors goes, I'm all alone once again. What a series of betrayals! First, Frank. Then Mark. Then Trade. And now these two, the ones I trusted the most. Dale, he was the silly one; I

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-37879018152549968292011-12-31T15:49:00.001-06:002011-12-31T15:49:47.538-06:00

Well, folks, Happy New Year! The big day is here, New Year's Eve, and for most of us, it's going to be a really big night! I would like to urge you, in case you haven't heard it yet, to be safe tonight! Don't drink and drive. Make sure you have a designated driver. And don't do anything I wouldn't, which includes just about everything. I really have only one extracurricular rendezvous tonight

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-46918831251983878912011-12-30T17:00:00.002-06:002011-12-30T19:41:10.473-06:00

As a public service, I thought I would offer a review of this stuff, Gaia Male Libido. It's not exactly medicine, I guess, but herbs. The label says it "Optimizes health performance*," even though it says in the small print by the asterisk that, "This statement has not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-18849232420123656722011-12-25T06:15:00.000-06:002011-12-25T10:01:18.176-06:00

1 The War on Christmas recently opened up a new front, The Battle of the Ho Ho Hos. I might be a latecomer to this battle, focusing as I have on saying Merry Christmas and not Happy Holidays. But having pretty much secured the victory on that front -- although the greeter at Walmart the other day told me Happy Holidays, leading me to waste a couple hours returning all my gifts -- I've moved

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-84077151899232012942011-12-24T07:04:00.003-06:002011-12-24T07:04:57.458-06:00

Well, it's officially Christmas Eve, and my guy is still officially away for the holidays. His dear mother lives out of state, there's siblings, etc., so he's with them for an old-fashioned family Christmas. And that's great. It's been OK, really. I'm not one to begrudge. That'd be selfish. Except it feels like every other Christmas song is "(Christmas) Baby Please Come Home" or the similarly

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-74821302344117192262011-12-20T16:55:00.000-06:002011-12-20T19:57:54.495-06:00

I awoke yesterday morning very early. It was pitch-black out. All I could see were the streetlights, an occasional car passing, and the twinkle from a few of the neighbors' bathroom windows. It had been a cloudy night, and still, you could've cut the fog with a knife. Tremendously thick. It hit me hard. The thing about it, why it hit me hard, was that my prayer before bed was that I might

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-2287538490133462092011-12-18T18:14:00.000-06:002011-12-18T20:51:38.969-06:00

You haven't seen much of me here in the last couple days. It's been a tough stretch. But I'm starting to catch my breath, after being confronted so harshly by Trade Smith, up till now the only remaining member of my blog's Board of Editors on the 2nd tier. It was no doubt a mistake to put two siblings together on the 2nd tier, since when one decided to be treacherous (Mark) it would be only a

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-76880238946940235272011-12-15T08:24:00.002-06:002011-12-15T18:49:27.835-06:00

The Board of Editors and I had the opportunity to attend Jimmy's 18th birthday celebration yesterday at the public library. You'll remember Jimmy from when he was 17-years-old and was restricted to the Children's Room. His parents took advantage of one of the library's actual rules, and we're not making this up: A parent or guardian must accompany a child under 18 to approve their child's

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-81799512689612483952011-12-12T08:05:00.004-06:002011-12-12T10:35:34.781-06:00

I've been doing my part to be self sufficient when it comes to getting the weather. Like the pioneers. They didn't get weather from TV or the internet. They did it themselves. Anyway, with the internet, everyone's always wanting to "save bandwidth," so I hate to waste it; why not look outside occasionally and see what it's doing for myself? The obvious problem is that you can only see the

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-6411359075166529482011-12-11T14:52:00.001-06:002011-12-12T05:53:17.702-06:00

"Hey, who's stinking birthday is it, anyway? I'm sick you guys overlooking me! It rolls around like clockwork every December 25, you've gotta be used to it by now! So get it straight, OK? It's my birthday and I don't want you messing it up, wasting your time with a bunch of other stuff!" I saw this revelation on a church sign, the Word become angry words on the curb, trying to shake some

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-10461135378505144162011-12-09T14:48:00.001-06:002011-12-09T14:51:36.714-06:00

SUMMARY: The King of Group Dynamics guest-teaches a home economics class, the members who then have the opportunity to win a date with him. A couple days ago I got a call from one of the teachers at the college, who discovered we lived in the same town. Of course she'd seen my name in a textbook, since I'm quoted in several of them in the field of Group Dynamics. Some years ago, as part

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-76116898583360028802011-12-08T14:58:00.001-06:002011-12-09T05:38:19.017-06:00

SUMMARY: Looking at the phrase, "Beggars can't be choosers." I'm sitting here contemplating the implications of this, and it's blowing my mind. In my thoughts I'm taking it all the way from the simple choices we all make to metaphysical questions of free will period. Did I make the choice to write this post? Or is some higher power, with too much time on its hands, compelling me? If times,

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-3590156255537271102011-12-07T12:45:00.001-06:002011-12-07T13:16:45.162-06:00

Anyway, the last serious thing I shouted at Mark was, "Your ass is seriously fired, and don't come back -- you or your beard -- if it's the last thing you do!" He stormed out of the garage, thankful he wasn't soaking wet, and seriously slammed the door behind him. I shot a look at his brother Trade, still sitting there like he meant to continue as a team player, but I knew he'd be torn in his

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-56565876735185875702011-12-06T11:50:00.001-06:002011-12-06T11:59:46.488-06:00

You've probably noticed this, you've never seen a bearded man when it's raining. It took me a while to realize it, but I've never personally had a beard so I haven't been privy to this information. But the more I looked around, the more suspicious I became. And I can think back, like to college. Anytime there was the slightest chance of rain, guess who'd be absent? The one or two guys with

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-20661033015086137782011-12-04T15:21:00.001-06:002011-12-04T16:42:02.046-06:00

I've been a collector of local characters, like forever. Of course I don't bring them home; they're not butterflies to pin to the curtain. I only make note of them and observe them as much as is polite. And since they never seem to notice observation, you could stare all day and still be polite. They're always out and about, the basic thing of the local character being the need for a public.

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-33636425781049928672011-12-03T12:50:00.001-06:002011-12-03T13:11:56.515-06:00

Three cheers for Herman Cain! He finally had the sense and grace to leave the presidential race, his reputation in tatters and his zipper worn out. The good news is he finally got what was coming to him. The bad news, now he's got more free time on his hands. Women of the world, watch out!

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-90336642089581657622011-12-02T11:36:00.001-06:002011-12-02T11:39:12.049-06:00

Re - lease the hounds of hell, What the heck do we care? What the heck do we care? Re - lease the hounds of hell, What the heck do we care now? Then, after a fairly decisive victory, the hounds of hell having been released, the enemy having been chewed beyond recognition, blood and gore, and sorrow, sufficiently spread, mankind being somewhat worse for the wear but determined to turn over a

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-15631203591020743352011-12-02T09:56:00.001-06:002011-12-02T14:00:41.301-06:00

SUMMARY: A guy deals with the knowledge that one's stomach is as big as one's fist. He refers to his stomach by showing his fist, getting him in trouble. If we wrote this as people took it, we might say, "He threw himself into the melee with reckless abandon, stomachs a'flying, and was able to clear the floor. Only later did he calm down and become increasingly aware of a terrible pain.

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-78955587681423329522011-12-01T19:14:00.001-06:002011-12-01T20:09:09.755-06:00

It seems like we ought to be solving some of these cases. I thought forensics could do wonders. Apparently they're not as good as I thought! Sure, these are cold cases, and fairly trivial, but you answer me, If you can't solve the trivial stuff, what kind of confidence should I have that you can crack the tough stuff? Qualitatively, there's no difference in gathering clues and coming to

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-33408229390636127982011-11-30T18:05:00.001-06:002011-11-30T18:18:39.143-06:00

A local TV channel's weatherman committed suicide. True story. I hadn't personally ever heard of him, since I don't watch that channel, but of course I feel sad that something, whatever it might have been led him to do that. I heard about it on one of the competitor channels, and they gave a nice presentation on him. Apparently he was something of a cut-up on air, since they had him flapping

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-77974995480828042512011-11-28T07:29:00.001-06:002011-11-28T11:00:45.930-06:00

My board of editors and I left the garage where most of my blogging is done and went out on a story, to interview Jimmy. Of course Jimmy needs no introduction, if you read my post on the 17-year-old boy whose parents restrict him to the Children's Room at the public library. This is one of the library's actual rules: A parent or guardian must accompany a child under 18 to approve their

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-2983079261415137002011-11-27T13:32:00.001-06:002011-11-27T14:07:03.273-06:00

I still haven't given up on the theme of the sex lives our soldiers and sailors in World War II. You might remember, I asked, "Did World War II Soldiers Have Sex?" Then I followed that with, "Should World War II Soldiers Have Had Sex?" Later, "I Forgive World War II Soldiers For Having Sex." But just because I forgave them doesn't mean I shouldn't explore the issue a little further. I get a

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-55605568176828325352011-11-25T12:39:00.001-06:002011-11-26T07:14:06.959-06:00

Well, just like that, the brand new editorial board for my blog has been whittled down to five, including myself. I wasn't expecting it to happen, but it did. Frank turned out to be a bad seed, couldn't be trusted, so now he's out. It's only been a little over a week since I named the board. And, frankly (no pun intended), I had high hopes for Frank, since he was, as I said in introducing the

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-25661444819003477852011-11-24T18:28:00.001-06:002011-11-25T12:44:12.290-06:00

November 2011: MR. ANDERSON -- How would you like a $700 gun safe for Christmas, dear? MRS. ANDERSON [sarcastically] -- Yeah, heh heh, that'd be great. November 2016, Eyewitness Action News 9: JOVIAL MALE NEWSCASTER -- Mrs. Anderson of the city has a real story to tell! FEMALE CO-ANCHOR -- That's right, she doesn't own a gun but has repeatedly been the victim of gun thieves. MALE --

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-869041717239365882011-11-24T08:32:00.001-06:002011-11-24T08:55:05.592-06:00

One of the reasons Thanksgiving is so great is it's one of the few holidays that brings the entire world together in a common celebration. Most of the other holidays, while being great, are so much more provincial, Christmas, New Year's, the Super Bowl, and even Arbor Day. But for at least one day a year -- this day -- we can all be Pilgrims and Indians, recalling the old days. That's what

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-2734443843418067592011-11-23T12:52:00.001-06:002011-11-23T13:58:21.418-06:00

I'm a little reluctant to put this out there, because it's killer information. The actual secrets of our species are contained herein. And putting it out there as I am, it could have consequences I'm not prepared to deal with. Such as a terrible backlash, for obvious reasons: The average family doesn't want their sons and daughters hearing this. But I'll just hope I'm not too badly dragged

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-81730496994969980912011-11-23T10:11:00.001-06:002011-11-23T16:17:54.115-06:00

I pity the poor guy at The Miami Daily News-Record (Miami, Ohio), in 1948, who had to write a headline for every local church's news. Instead of just having a listing, each church's news was a separate article. But how many different ways can you say the preacher will be preaching a message? And the church will meet as usual? Let's look at the variations, from the paper on Sept. 26: The

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-5560552847072489692011-11-22T15:06:00.001-06:002011-11-23T12:48:38.007-06:00

Everyday on Twitter, a handful of people unfollow me. And likewise several follow me. I follow almost everyone who follows me and unfollow everyone who unfollows me. It's been a while since I initiated a follow, but the ones I have whom I follow but don't follow me reflects some of those folks. (I'm following 3913 as of this minute, with 3833 followers.) I say it reflects some of them because

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-85681815277638929892011-11-21T08:23:00.001-06:002011-11-21T14:38:26.872-06:00

So the Imaginary Stud was beaten to a pulp and his two front teeth knocked out, and of course he was upset. But I used some of my great people skills to calm him down and send him home to find a comfy chair and settle in with a good book. I told him I'd come check on him. When I got there earlier this morning, he was stretched out on the floor. The blanket was half on him and stretched to the

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-73254712562626216652011-11-20T14:05:00.001-06:002011-11-20T14:42:40.767-06:00

You remember the Imaginary Stud. He's just a guy, respectable in every way, simply out obeying life's prime directive to reproduce as far and wide as he can. There shouldn't be any problem with that. There shouldn't be a problem, but of course it's right when you think you're home free that your real troubles begin. Others, in jealousy or obeying some social injunction, step in to hassle you.

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-15430050535050866252011-11-19T18:06:00.001-06:002011-11-19T18:26:14.173-06:00

The Wizard of Oz famously said, "Every pusillanimous creature that crawls on the earth or slinks through slimy seas has a brain!" To which I say, "Hallelujah! Someone finally gets it!" Because I've been saying a version of that for years. And not only about brains but lots of other body parts, too. This realization came to me early on, which, frankly, might not be something a kid would think

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-48891967197385404102011-11-18T16:17:00.001-06:002011-11-18T16:46:46.503-06:00

I want to thank everyone for their applications to join the Grandma Slump blog in an official capacity. When I first had the idea, some weeks ago, I was apprehensive, thinking maybe no one would apply. Or just a few internet scoundrels and ruffians trying to cause trouble. But I was very gratified, and frankly overwhelmed, when the applications started pouring in. I didn't count them all, but it

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-63082680409184946632011-11-17T15:37:00.001-06:002011-11-17T16:16:26.390-06:00

There is this guy -- The Imaginary Stud -- I'm focusing on for a while. Because he's so extraordinary. He feels, at least he says, that he's responsible every time a pregnant woman walks by or a woman with a baby. "Hide me!" is his constant plea. Maybe he is responsible for a few of them. Like I said, maybe he's gotten lucky a few times after a wild drunk. But could he be the father of every

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-22062231376838636292011-11-17T15:32:00.001-06:002011-11-17T18:59:01.050-06:00

I was at the library and overheard some kids talking about this. One of their friends, 17 years old, is restricted on the books, CDs, etc., that he can check out from the library. Yes, it seems that's one of the rules in place, thanks to the library and his idiot parents. I didn't hear much -- I'm not an eavesdropper by nature, I really have to work at it. But according to them, and I think

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-33502782045381423212011-11-16T17:19:00.001-06:002011-11-16T17:39:35.815-06:00

I'm going to entertain you with a few impressions I've been working on. I'll be including the immortal voices of some of our favorites, Foghorn Leghorn, Jimmy Durante, James Cagney, and The Beatles. That's quite a variety, I know, everything from cartoons to '40 radio to movie classics to the swinging '60s! What I -- or maybe I should say they -- will be singing is the old church classic, "

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-89225553712352959402011-11-16T10:45:00.001-06:002011-11-16T15:46:35.385-06:00

Dr. Momus of the Museum of Art likes to vary his habits. One habit involves going out for breakfast, which he usually does unless there's something else afoot to prevent him, such as an important meeting or another responsibility. Like schmoozing a rich museum patron who's already eaten. His habit, as I said, is going out for breakfast, but I also said he likes to vary it, which is just a

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-15272206442721246632011-11-16T10:26:00.001-06:002011-11-17T13:47:28.728-06:00

The imaginary stud is a guy whose eyes perk up when he sees a woman walking by with a baby. "Hide me," he says, because he doesn't want the mother of the child to see him. Except you keep going down the road and eventually see a woman pushing a stroller built for two. "Hide me," he says, quickly averting his face, because two kids, that's so much worse. If she sees him, knowing he hasn't paid

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-29584628857575286112011-11-16T10:07:00.001-06:002011-11-16T10:24:52.961-06:00

I like to think I'm a reasonably smart guy. All depends on what you mean by reasonably. It's definitely a qualifier, in my opinion meaning, "By ordinary standards, nothing fancy, such as putting me up against Einstein or Hawking, I'm smart enough to get by in typical human settings without sticking out like a sore thumb for being stupid." It's all relative. Although I suppose you could make

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-13464109144279835442011-11-13T22:06:00.001-06:002011-11-13T22:18:43.216-06:00

It might be slim pickins' here for a while, because suddenly, it turns out I'm on a reading jag. I'm actually reading, isn't that something? Actual full length books, from start to finish, cover to cover. Huh? Huh? What do you think of that? I'm on a reading jag, so I can't be sitting here making up stuff of my own. I happened to be walking through the library, saw an interesting looking

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-46226260224137584142011-11-11T00:03:00.000-06:002011-11-11T05:37:47.267-06:00

From The Syracuse Herald, Syracuse, NY, Nov. 11, 1911, page 6. From Hutchinson News, Hutchinson, KS, Nov. 6, 1911, p. 10.

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-4815423887652306342011-11-10T11:42:00.001-06:002011-11-10T17:20:30.746-06:00

One of the more influential people in my life has to be my preacher, Pastor Wadd. He's right up there in the top 50 overall, for sure, and the top 5 of those having to do with understanding the underlying nature of life. You probably remember, Pastor Wadd's special area of expertise is sexual addictions. He counsels guys on that topic day after day, plus a few ladies. I've never actually been

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-8896815365454477272011-11-10T10:36:00.000-06:002011-11-10T10:36:41.999-06:00

Look at the global reach of my blog this week. (For the graphic, I dropped off all the countries after Germany who aren't keeping up. But they were United Kingdom (7), Malaysia (5), Romania (4), Sweden (3), United Arab Emirates (2), and Canada (2). What's precisely wrong with Canada, I don't know. Don't they have the internet up there? 2, that's barely one per province. They have provinces up

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-18259639747641607122011-11-08T13:29:00.000-06:002011-11-08T19:00:10.429-06:00

Unto us a son is born, a child is given. The child given, the son born, is your opportunity to adopt my blog posts. Where you can pick up the little tykes, so to speak, that I have written, and care for them and really make them your own. Are you up for that? This is part of a personal goal I have to make my readers feel more involved and invested. It would be more fulfilling for them, and as

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-89632138637418362742011-11-06T15:01:00.000-06:002011-11-07T10:50:43.168-06:00

The burning issue of the day, and I'm finding myself to be pretty liberal on the subject, is whether animals should be allowed to join the Human Union. Those who take the conservative position say, "It is called the Human Union," which is a great point. And they are 100 percent correct that since the inception, all these years, only humans have had admittance. But whether that's the way it

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-90135754950137755732011-11-04T11:55:00.000-05:002011-11-04T11:57:03.346-05:00

That's a really fantastic graphic, isn't it? I told the guy I wanted explosions, planets, beams of ethereal light, shafts of light, or shards, streaking across the newborn virgin sky. Which is a lot to expect for 20 bucks. You might get a small planet and a couple shards for that, but he really went all out. He blew my mind with this one! So, instead of getting right into it today, I want to

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-36934560395912005222011-11-03T11:00:00.000-05:002011-11-03T21:17:43.329-05:00

Things at the Roadhog Roadhouse have been going as usual. Guys show up, guys drink, guys get in fights. It can be so bad, I hate to think of it, what ruffians do. I just hear of it, since I don't go out there much, and I shake my head and inwardly wonder: Why is the heart of man so against his fellow man, especially when he's got a belly full of beer? But I have to smile, since I know I have

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-54881999243680823972011-11-03T10:17:00.000-05:002011-11-03T10:17:13.669-05:00

I've got the great Elvis Presley song "Please Don't Drag That String Around" in mind. I'm pretty good at singing it, at least according to the way I hear things. Probably if I heard it played back with no accompaniment and my bare, crummy singing voice, it'd sound like crap. But thanks to the inner voice and the great acoustics in the shower, it's all good. It's a great song, though, and I'd

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-5324038996288702342011-11-02T16:32:00.000-05:002011-11-02T16:34:11.047-05:00

Each of us has a finite number of months to live. And another one has passed. I've had a wistful day, maybe it's the clouds and drizzle. I've been thinking back to October and wishing I'd done so much more with the time. I always have the best of intentions, but then there's this and that and the other thing that seems to hog up all the time. And before I know it, the month has passed and I

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-38652750715219670872011-11-01T21:18:00.000-05:002011-11-01T21:25:42.440-05:00

Among the many inspiring stories from Sri Masturbananda's ashram, perhaps none tells of a greater transformation than the story of Gregor, the guy they called "The Little Drip." I think of his story often, anytime I need a boost in my devotions. I only knew him afterward, but those who knew him before say he was pathetic. He'd be at his devotions, trying to follow the Master's teachings, but

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-39782201937098070212011-10-29T21:34:00.000-05:002011-10-30T09:17:38.186-05:00

One of my favorite patriotic songs is the old chestnut, virtually a standard by now, "America The Beautiful." I love it so much I'm actually standing as I write this. It's the one that tells of "spacious skies," "amber waves of grain," "purple mountain majesties," and "the fruited plain." It gives me a real urge to go outside more, and I would if it weren't for mosquitoes. You might remember

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-53802972354756391012011-10-28T10:38:00.000-05:002011-10-28T10:38:50.457-05:00

You've got seed and you've got need. The need is a personal, discernible need, often with personal motives. But the need is also part and parcel of nature's drive, there of course being no clear division between the two needs except what we see as true because of our sense of a personal consciousness. Where the seed comes from and the compulsion behind it, these things obviously arise from

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-55879647745023317652011-10-28T09:48:00.000-05:002011-10-30T09:19:34.837-05:00

The main trouble with cartoons is they're not realistic. So I haven't got much time for them. People with four fingers, etc. It hasn't always been that way, what I thought. When I was a kid, like most kids, even the stupid ones of today, I wanted to watch cartoons. Turn on the cartoons, I want to see them! But back then, cartoons were something special. They were on for a half hour in the

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-8720522965668112062011-10-27T11:17:00.001-05:002011-10-30T09:20:17.273-05:00

If you have a website or blog, maybe you wonder, like I do, what will happen to it after your death. I'd like to think that somehow, some way, everything would be nicely preserved for thousands of years. But that's not likely without real dedication on someone's part. How often just within the last 15 years, since the internet really got jumping, have sites come and gone, like Geocities? They

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-11870378951059025642011-10-27T10:57:00.000-05:002011-10-30T09:20:30.399-05:00

The question came up from one of my more faithful readers, "Is your teaching the same for everyone, or do you make distinctions for the---" That was his question word for word. As you can see, he broke it off without finishing, perhaps because he didn't know exactly how to word it. Or maybe he thought it was a stupid question and decided to cut his losses. (I don't think it's a stupid question

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-89207124961641785702011-10-26T19:13:00.000-05:002011-10-26T19:13:34.743-05:00

Probably all of you remember Johnny Cash being "The Man In Black." He wore black, he talked about his clothes, he wrote a book called that, and he had a hit song of the same name. Now that he's gone, you don't hear much about it anymore. Which is why I want to reopen the subject for a new generation. Because now, thanks to the world's progress, there's no more reason to wear black. And if

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-70025704133516254572011-10-24T11:13:00.004-05:002011-10-24T11:43:52.923-05:00

[Artwork COPYRIGHT 2011 dbkundalini, All Rights Reserved, please don't steal it. Note: Getty Images, please feel free to contact me for usage rights. Limited rights offered to Pork Producers, International.] I was with a guy at the local barbecued pork restaurant recently. I think it was last Thursday, possibly Tuesday or Wednesday, definitely not Monday, and they're not open on Sunday. And I

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-45766006178599812722011-10-24T10:25:00.000-05:002011-10-30T09:21:01.035-05:00

"It's over there! The cadaver!" he might say. "You're looking for a dead body, I've scented one!" would be another direct alternative. Or even, "I smell something in yonder box, you might want to check it out," would probably be enough, although he's not explicitly mentioning cadavers or dead bodies. All those would be useful explanations, but, alas, dogs can't talk. They can only motion (the

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-67175924691861120982011-10-24T10:22:00.000-05:002011-10-24T10:22:25.736-05:00

Take all you care to eat, but care to eat all you care to take. Take all you will eat, then eat all you take. Take your fill, but fill yourself with all you take. Take what you want, but want what you take. Take all you choose to eat, but choose to eat all you take. Take all you think you will want, but if you think you do not want what you have taken, think again what it was you first

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-84499565369878790862011-10-23T17:28:00.000-05:002011-10-30T09:21:20.033-05:00

We're almost to Halloween once again, which always reminds me of the same thing, the kids of this one town getting their costumes and candy. Because they had a real champion in Edgar D. Scuzworth, of blessed memory. But of course it would've never happened had his family treated him right. I feel like calling them a bunch of dirty names, and maybe you can guess what they'd be, but since

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-87782061952015117652011-10-22T17:21:00.004-05:002011-10-22T21:08:20.130-05:00

I love the story in the paper about Gadhafi (spellings vary, but out of laziness I'm arbitrarily choosing this one.) They caught him, tracked him down, sniffed him out, and got him. A gathering of concerned citizens immediately killed and dismembered him, one individual even taking his shoes. Authorities then moved in and broke up the reverie, then gathered up all the pieces of his body and

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-9486437221849329052011-10-22T16:43:00.000-05:002011-10-24T10:23:15.021-05:00

An FBI cadaver dog registered a "hit" at one of the local funeral homes today, according to FBI spokesman, Ed Hoogar Javer. The deceased had apparently disappeared from the mortuary recently, leading police on a thorough search of the premises, inside and out. His family was beside themselves, for a time being suspects in the disappearance, their motive ... money, there having been a family

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-47066577224918179242011-10-22T07:30:00.000-05:002011-10-22T07:31:04.987-05:00

I'm not a big fan of the comics page, but I turn the pages and see it. My eye notices this comic, MUTTS by Patrick McDonnell. And it seems like pretty often it's "Earl's Diary," where there's normally a character sitting there, then the rest of the comic is just a written entry to his diary. Today, though, we don't even get Earl! It seems like a real lazy way of doing a comic strip. I've

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-9474252793258293172011-10-21T11:08:00.001-05:002011-10-22T21:13:54.067-05:00

I'd said before that I think I have olfactory hallucinations. The tricky thing about it is I've never been officially diagnosed, so it's all anecdotal, what I tell myself and suspect. The thing about senses is that you have nowhere objective to stand from which to judge them. I suppose if you had instrumentation and science you could come to better conclusions. But if I was going to do that,

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-57103942032262748252011-10-21T10:38:00.000-05:002011-10-21T10:38:37.766-05:00

Progress, ho ho ho, the word of my life, the arrow pointing out ahead being the direction. I've been thinking about progress since I was a kid, and it doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon. Onward and upward! You can tell I'm in a fantastic mood this morning. Of course, sure, there are things that could get me down were I to dwell on them. Like anyone, the future is always

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-92211805461399774062011-10-20T17:18:00.000-05:002011-10-20T21:14:49.680-05:00

His father was the lightning, His mother was the weeds, This horse is made of fire, The fieriest of steeds. He came across the prairie In the greatest cloud of smoke, Fire like this in horses Is nothing you can stoke. WILDFIRE! Keep on blazing! WILDFIRE -- He's really one hot horse. He started out a little flame, But then the years passed by, And what was only little once Had now flamed up

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-46783306548114356842011-10-18T16:48:00.002-05:002011-10-18T16:48:37.995-05:00

I was down at the meal site today, as I am most days. Because of my disability (game toe), I qualify for free meals. Lately, I've been thinking of those more unfortunate than myself, and, somehow, I don't know how, four meal tickets mysteriously, miraculously, exited their perch on the cash register when the guy's back was turned and ended up in my pocket! Seriously, I looked every direction

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-83034078056145257932011-10-18T14:11:00.001-05:002011-10-18T14:44:15.908-05:00

I can't keep anything under wraps for long. The guys at Wikileaks, always revealing my secret plans for the blog, leaked it a few days ago. And now I can announce it officially as true. I have a brand new address: grandmaslump.com. Yes, I've joined the big boys, with my very own "dot com," hopefully not just in time for the bubble to burst! I've had my grandmaslump.blogspot.com address for

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-69579439552720019162011-10-17T10:36:00.000-05:002011-10-17T10:36:03.591-05:00

Smoking isn't cool. It's not cool to me. And I say that as a former smoker. It was a different world back then. But the same stupidity. I was looking at a lady smoking the other day -- and I have maybe four or five photos of her, but I'm not posting them, as it turns out, as a matter of avoiding lawsuits from the people I dress down. If she reads this, maybe she'll know I'm talking about her,

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-77339505014967963772011-10-17T10:16:00.000-05:002011-10-17T10:17:05.721-05:00

Here I go, across the great lawn, with a tray of sweetmeats for the stranger. "How are you?" I say, tempering my smile while keeping it genuine. "How about a cinnamon roll?" It's important to keep body and soul together, it's good for the marrow. He looks at my arm for the Red Cross emblem, but seeing none, realizes I'm just a kind person given to instant solidarity, at least admiration from

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-71575755011024449702011-10-16T19:23:00.000-05:002011-10-17T10:38:10.194-05:00

This is the story of The Dog Gutterer, sort of like The Dog Whisperer, except this guy has to get in there down and dirty with psychological tricks to trick the dog back into complacency. I heard this story, I think its first roots are in the dog show circuit, where any nasty thing can happen. They may look like innocent friends, but the animus is raw ... because of what they've seen and had

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-71052656779824200822011-10-13T16:57:00.000-05:002011-10-15T07:06:19.073-05:00

It could've happened to anyone. The horse just dropped dead. He knew all the tricks and liked to keep the audience happy. But being a horse, he probably didn't know they'd be happy if he just showed up and gave an average performance. No one's expecting a Las Vegas revue out in the sticks. Looking at the audience, personally I wouldn't try very hard at all. If there was ever a gathering

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-88421068911632847042011-10-13T15:04:00.000-05:002011-10-13T19:55:19.550-05:00

I'm taking personal inventory, thinking of my many good qualities. I'm not what you'd call famous, by any stretch. I tend to be able to walk the streets or go to restaurants without people coming up to me for favors. That's good. But still, the more people who know and respect you, the better. Even though I'm not famous, I am basically known for two things: 1) Writing this blog; and, 2) Being

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-84599242656328596542011-10-11T20:09:00.000-05:002011-10-11T20:09:28.277-05:00

I've got kind of a heartwarming story today, of a true incident, something that actually happened and that I personally witnessed. This is true, I can't believe my good luck in just happening to be there when it all went down. But, who knows, maybe it was divine intervention, with me being right where God wanted me to be so I could witness this... Well, I've thrown out enough clues, so you've

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-9122829913844889432011-10-10T19:28:00.003-05:002011-10-10T20:16:33.549-05:00

I'm seeing this farmer dude looking at this tree like he's thinking of cutting it down. And I'm like, "No, that's not happening!" And that's it. End of story. I won't give in. I won't let it happen. "Thus far and no farther," I say, "I will protect this tree, because trees are our future, and you're not cutting down our future!" I'm sorry, that's the way I am. I simply lashed out because I

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-62143530684056381812011-10-09T07:15:00.004-05:002011-10-09T15:10:32.537-05:00

I got one of these little umbrellas yesterday when I bought a sugary, fruity drink (cherry shaved ice). Of course I love it. I don't know anyone who doesn't love them. If you had a political party whose symbol was the little umbrella on drinks, they'd get 100% of the vote. The way they served the shaved ice at this place was different from anything I've seen before. They had a styrofoam glass

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-80392504074822012362011-10-06T22:41:00.000-05:002011-10-06T22:45:44.663-05:00

The minute I walked in the room, she could tell I was a man of distinction. I was dressed like usual, including your usual brimmed cap. Leading the solitary woman at the bar to ask me if I'd been fishing. Oh, baby, with a come on like that, I love it! "No," I said, "I haven't been fishing for years. Why, do I smell bad?" "Maybe you do but I can't tell from here," she was direct, "it's just

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-18246422340345009962011-10-05T18:41:00.001-05:002011-10-05T18:41:36.901-05:00

If I asked for a show of hands, probably most of you would raise your hand if I asked if you've ever seen a "How's My Driving?" bumper sticker. Am I right? Most of you have to have seen one of these stickers, right? I mean, really, surely you have. Come on. OK, let's have a show of hands. Yes, that's most of you. As for a few of you who didn't raise your hand, you've got to be lying, don't you

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-63657815452602105542011-10-04T21:00:00.002-05:002011-10-05T12:56:09.065-05:00

On this day of days, if you're into radio, since it's 10-4, I want to turn to the interesting story of Roger, your typical fourth grade schoolboy, whose experiences, as it turned out, were anything but typical. His troubles began at recess one day when a swing in motion lurched back and knocked out his front tooth. There was no way to reattach the missing mouth appendage, so the dentist had to

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-28836592794305875242011-10-03T12:02:00.002-05:002011-10-03T12:03:45.218-05:00

I enjoyed a recent visit to the Museum of Dungeons and being able to see some of the enhanced interrogation methods (torture) of the past. It was like going back in a time machine, all the way back to the Middle Ages, or, more recently, to the Bush Administration. We forget, or I forgot how bad it was. Although I don't think I ever knew. This was certainly a new one to me, proving that the

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-48813902051734168312011-10-03T10:54:00.001-05:002011-10-03T10:54:32.349-05:00

One of our local bars advertises that they have the "BEST BURGERS ANYWHERE." A fact like that gives me a lot of pride, knowing that right here where I am, without having to leave town, I can eat the best burgers in existence. I've actually had one of them, so I can attest, it was passable. I'm a generous critic. I recognized it right away as a burger, with the distinctive shape of the bun, a

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-83602063991183755292011-09-30T11:25:00.000-05:002011-09-30T11:47:24.362-05:00

We've all watched comedians on TV telling the audience that they've been fantastic. That's good, because a comedian wants a fantastic audience, folks who are going to appreciate them and laugh. We might say, What's the difference, if they're being paid? You could hire a comedian, send them out to a bunch of stiffs, he could go through his routine, and end it, and it'd be just as good. Just

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-72401309606030636422011-09-30T11:13:00.000-05:002011-09-30T11:37:33.463-05:00

I'm closing out September with a few trifles. 30 days hath September, and today's the day it hath them! I spent most of September on other projects -- note to self -- hence my lack of posts here. It was actually one project, involving photography, and it's amazing how consuming it was for me. But it had a definite lifespan. I can't say I didn't see it coming, because I felt it coming as sure

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-28667549761679581422011-09-30T10:57:00.002-05:002011-09-30T10:57:13.322-05:00

He sits alone in his artistic citadel. (Hallelujah, that's a great sentence!) You might call him an alone kind of guy. Something of a social clod. Perplexed by the madding crowds, the jostle and bustle of too many foreign bodies. (Wow, I'm really fleshing this bastard out!) (Sorry for the parentheses, I know everyone hates them. I'll try to keep my own delight down to a minimum. On the other

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-74458919449194096612011-09-29T19:53:00.001-05:002011-09-29T19:53:29.596-05:00

"This is the Randy Track Show, and I'm your host, Randy Track, and today we're welcoming Larry Stine to our studio, from the group Fahoup Fahep Fitzguh. They're in town, and they've got a really big show tonight at The Unmentionable. What time is it?" "Uh, I think it's 9 o'clock. We'll be rehearsing before that, no doubt. And a couple of our 'roadies' will be setting up the speakers and all

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-25806310761263802272011-09-29T11:49:00.002-05:002011-09-29T14:31:38.417-05:00

I'm old enough now to be able to give good, serious advice to younger people. Whatever it is, I've been there, done that. In general, I know what works and what doesn't. I know what regrets are all about and what you need to do to have fewer of them. When you're young, it's not always obvious to you what all possibilities you have. Mom and Dad are there trying to make things safe for you. They

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-67467029541670445072011-09-29T11:26:00.004-05:002011-09-30T12:01:01.265-05:00

I need to get it out of my system, my intentions to write about buttocks. I've had it in my notebook for a few days. I don't feel that I have much to say about it at this present moment, but I'm not going to let that stop the attempt. I was driving today and saw a young woman walk by with just the barest hint of her "cheeks" showing, which was noted by my passenger. I had to say I also noticed

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-20503564152744579462011-09-25T17:17:00.002-05:002011-09-25T20:51:15.710-05:00

I woke up today to a pleasant surprise, four more rabid followers for my blog. These four join the other six, making them now the Terrific Ten! (Following this blog has certain benefits besides the editorial red meat I throw out on a regular basis. One benefit, in fact, was just yesterday, before I gained the four Kats, last night, when we had the wiener roast and hayrack ride. And, two,

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-29079554422619562512011-09-23T15:46:00.001-05:002011-09-23T16:42:39.723-05:00

I just wrote about a fish I saved. I didn't waste any time getting it back in the water. But later I was thinking about it, that I seemed to remember some mythology, or some fairy tale, about a fish that asks favors or grants favors. Let's say the fish does a little of each, asks and grants. This might be like a transcendental story, the fish wants to become more than it is, so it seeks a favor

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-7501478032465608202011-09-23T15:16:00.002-05:002011-09-23T15:47:22.467-05:00

It's forever ago that I've had to kill anything (excluding the occasional mosquito or ants). I don't like killing at all. I'm like the old reflective gunslinger who's simply had enough of bloodshed. But lately there's been a mouse at my place, terrorizing me, ripping into bags of Oreos and corn chips and who knows what all. One night I was sitting there and heard a noise but just figured it

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-974229729976642314.post-76367317488820328932011-09-22T10:28:00.002-05:002011-09-22T10:28:56.229-05:00

Excuse me, ma'am, I can't help noticing you have a very shapely figure. You must work out, or maybe you just watch your diet. However you do it, it's very attractive. Very attractive, I like it. I also can't help noticing you're not wearing a ring. I hope you don't mind me saying so, I just notice little details like that. And your fingers are very nice, slender and cute, like they're made for

dbkundalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00745289731446482475noreply@blogger.com0