Jeez.
And I thought I was weird for storing my dirt bikes in the dining room, back in the early '80's...
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Get off my LAWN! "Grumpy Old Farts"
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And I thought I was weird for storing my dirt bikes in the dining room, back in the early '80's...
The Great Baithouse Lima Bean Debacle
It was a while back. Bearbait (my daughter) and Gatorbait (my son) were about 10 and 4 years old respectively. It was sometime on the weekend and we were sitting down to a nice dinner of ham , mashed potatoes and lima beans. For the record , Bearbait HATES lima beans and knowing this we weren't forcing her to eat any. Hey , I didn't particularly like them as a kid so we were pretty understanding of her situation. Somewhere during the dinner I got some kind of a signal from Gatorbait to distract Bearbait for a second. Just after I engaged her in conversation , I noticed the boy shoved about three lima beans into her potatoes. I started to question myself if I was a bad parent for letting him get away with this. As I was pondering the depth of the situation , Bearbait took a mouthfull of potatoes and discovered one or two of the beans. The screaming and gagging continued for about thirty seconds until she finally realized how the beans must have gotten in there. Attack mode was immediately instituted and she went after her brother.
Our house is set up somewhat uniquely as there is a hallway from the dining room to the kitchen and another hallway from the kitchen to the front door and living room. Basically a big rectangle where you can run around in circles if you so desire.
The boy escaped her initial grasp and lit out toward the kitchen rounding the curve at the bathroom to the other hallway. I think it took four or five trips around the house till she finally caught up with him. She had him by the belt and scruff of the neck shaking him and screaming at him about how much she hated lima beans. This is the point where good parents would intervene But Seahag and I were laughing too hard to really do anything.
The situation finally calmed itself down and we all ended up back at the table to finish the meal. Then the unthinkable happened. Somewhere along the line , Bearbait dropped her fork. As she bent over to retrieve it , the boy shoved another three of four lima beans in her potatoes. The circus repeated itself and once again the wife and I were too overcome with hysterics to intervene. Gee , maybe we really are bad parents.........Naaaaaaaaaaaa.
Somehow the boy survived the night , the girl didn't get the heaves from the three or four lima beans she ingested , the wife and my aching jaws from laughter healed , and life in the Baithouse got back to normal.
I have noticed that after that , whenever we had lima beans , for some strange reason , Bearbait won't sit next to her brother anymore.
It was a while back. Bearbait (my daughter) and Gatorbait (my son) were about 10 and 4 years old respectively. It was sometime on the weekend and we were sitting down to a nice dinner of ham , mashed potatoes and lima beans. For the record , Bearbait HATES lima beans and knowing this we weren't forcing her to eat any. Hey , I didn't particularly like them as a kid so we were pretty understanding of her situation. Somewhere during the dinner I got some kind of a signal from Gatorbait to distract Bearbait for a second. Just after I engaged her in conversation , I noticed the boy shoved about three lima beans into her potatoes. I started to question myself if I was a bad parent for letting him get away with this. As I was pondering the depth of the situation , Bearbait took a mouthfull of potatoes and discovered one or two of the beans. The screaming and gagging continued for about thirty seconds until she finally realized how the beans must have gotten in there. Attack mode was immediately instituted and she went after her brother.
Our house is set up somewhat uniquely as there is a hallway from the dining room to the kitchen and another hallway from the kitchen to the front door and living room. Basically a big rectangle where you can run around in circles if you so desire.
The boy escaped her initial grasp and lit out toward the kitchen rounding the curve at the bathroom to the other hallway. I think it took four or five trips around the house till she finally caught up with him. She had him by the belt and scruff of the neck shaking him and screaming at him about how much she hated lima beans. This is the point where good parents would intervene But Seahag and I were laughing too hard to really do anything.
The situation finally calmed itself down and we all ended up back at the table to finish the meal. Then the unthinkable happened. Somewhere along the line , Bearbait dropped her fork. As she bent over to retrieve it , the boy shoved another three of four lima beans in her potatoes. The circus repeated itself and once again the wife and I were too overcome with hysterics to intervene. Gee , maybe we really are bad parents.........Naaaaaaaaaaaa.
Somehow the boy survived the night , the girl didn't get the heaves from the three or four lima beans she ingested , the wife and my aching jaws from laughter healed , and life in the Baithouse got back to normal.
I have noticed that after that , whenever we had lima beans , for some strange reason , Bearbait won't sit next to her brother anymore.
The good old days.
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Very cool - thanks for sharing!
Let this sink in for a minute.....Hundreds and hundreds of small boats pulled by countless pickups and SUVs from across the South are headed for Florida.
Almost all of them driven by men. They're using their own property, sacrificing their own time, spending their own money, and risking their own lives for one reason: to help total strangers in desperate need.
Most of them are by themselves. Most are dressed like the redneck duck hunters and bass fisherman they are. Many are veterans. Most are wearing well-used gimme-hats, t-shirts, and jeans; and there's a preponderance of camo.
No right , no left. Just passion.
These are The Quiet Ones. They don't wear masks and tear down statues. They don't, as a rule, march and demonstrate. And most have probably never been in a Whole Foods.
But they'll spend the next several days wading in cold, dirty water; dodging gators and water moccasins and fire ants; eating whatever meager rations are available; and sleeping wherever they can in dirty, damp clothes. Their reward is the tears and the hugs and the smiles from the terrified people they help. They'll deliver one boatload, and then go back for more.
When disaster strikes, it's what men do. Real men. Heroic men. American men. And then they'll knock back a few shots, or a few beers with like-minded men they've never met before, and talk about fish or ten-point bucks.
And the next time they hear someone talk about "the patriarchy", or "male privilege", they'll snort, turn off the TV and go to bed.
In the meantime, they'll likely be up again before dawn. To do it again. Until the helpless are rescued. And the work's done.
They're unlikely to be reimbursed. There won't be medals. They won't care. They're heroes. And it's what they do.
God Bless.
DISCLAIMER: I found this and the text from FB. It seemed a good thing to share.
Almost all of them driven by men. They're using their own property, sacrificing their own time, spending their own money, and risking their own lives for one reason: to help total strangers in desperate need.
Most of them are by themselves. Most are dressed like the redneck duck hunters and bass fisherman they are. Many are veterans. Most are wearing well-used gimme-hats, t-shirts, and jeans; and there's a preponderance of camo.
No right , no left. Just passion.
These are The Quiet Ones. They don't wear masks and tear down statues. They don't, as a rule, march and demonstrate. And most have probably never been in a Whole Foods.
But they'll spend the next several days wading in cold, dirty water; dodging gators and water moccasins and fire ants; eating whatever meager rations are available; and sleeping wherever they can in dirty, damp clothes. Their reward is the tears and the hugs and the smiles from the terrified people they help. They'll deliver one boatload, and then go back for more.
When disaster strikes, it's what men do. Real men. Heroic men. American men. And then they'll knock back a few shots, or a few beers with like-minded men they've never met before, and talk about fish or ten-point bucks.
And the next time they hear someone talk about "the patriarchy", or "male privilege", they'll snort, turn off the TV and go to bed.
In the meantime, they'll likely be up again before dawn. To do it again. Until the helpless are rescued. And the work's done.
They're unlikely to be reimbursed. There won't be medals. They won't care. They're heroes. And it's what they do.
God Bless.
DISCLAIMER: I found this and the text from FB. It seemed a good thing to share.
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Yup! And there's the airboat boys from FL and LA that'll help the folks in the Carolinas.
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- Oct 22, 2015
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Seems that there are dangerous things floating in the water. Those trying to help are putting themselves at risk in flooded areas. Typhoid, tetanus, and e-coli contamination are also a possibility.
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- Oct 22, 2015
- 21,165
- 256,835
- Disclosures
- I am an affiliate for Ari Cap.
^ it's also The New York Post.
Common currency holds New York Post readers are not as sophisticated as Chicago Sun-Times readers.
Common currency holds New York Post readers are not as sophisticated as Chicago Sun-Times readers.
- Oct 22, 2015
- 21,165
- 256,835
- Disclosures
- I am an affiliate for Ari Cap.
And as a participant in the field, and once-a-collector of fine examples of journalism, can offer
News stories prior to roughly the American Civil War were first person accounts where the writer was a participant in the story. Very clear to see in the "live" accounts of the Storming of the Bastille.
The first news stories we might recognize as "modern" were early attempts to report "just the facts, ma'am".
My personal experience is a good reporter can and should be paid better than a good editor. Here in ModernVille, I can't really say if this happens any more, and noted my experience is limited to print journalism.
My pet theory, feel free to take it with a very large grain of salt. Think of it as akin to the Monty Python sketch where the guest on the show asserts a brontosaurus is very skinny on one end, very large in the middle and very skinny on the other end.
There is a time in history when journalism was an ̶h̶o̶n̶e̶s̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶i̶m̶e̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶n̶e̶s̶t̶ ̶ more or less honest for the time well let's just say journalism was a blue collar calling (for very, very white collar owners <ahem> ). Watch "His Girl Friday" and you got the picture. Whatever is required to get the story. And (they don't tell you this part) get it on the street on time.
It is (GOF) the time of Watergate that newspapers changed. Suddenly kids who should have gone on to med school or dental school or god forbid even law school suddenly want to go to journalism school. To be, you know, like Robert Redford. By the late 70s old newsrooms where city editors keep baseball bats at their side and there is always a bit of the rye in some editor's drawer (for emergencies) are now seeing the influx of
of kids who know absolutely beans about anything. And always true of every generation but this is a very different generation who sees journalism as glam.
There are other changes brewing in these newsrooms and all I will say here is it goes all the way to the top.
For an enjoyable glance at journalism done properly, can recommend
https://www.amazon.com/Done-Day-Years-Writing-Chicago/dp/0804007551#
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It's amazing how much chat and pages this thread goes through nowadays.... 
Maybe blame the internet. People are used to saying whatever they want. Now it’s institutionalized.
Unfortunately, papers are bought to push agendas. A long way from All The Truth That’s Fit To Print.
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Friday On My Mind
You know you’ve made it when....
You know you’ve made it when....
Or, as IIRC, "MAD" would say:"All the truth that fits"
I remember liking this a lot when it came out. It very well could have been my introduction to mojo and unseen forces.
- Oct 22, 2015
- 21,165
- 256,835
- Disclosures
- I am an affiliate for Ari Cap.
Hearst was my first employer and never met any Hearst family member. Very clear to me even from my office how Hearst manages and it didn't differ in any way from the way Forbes aw let's do this instead
I knew a Hearst. But, with him it was all about photography; well, cameras, anyway.
The family business hires a lot of photographers. He must have a good eye for the art.
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