Others' Opinions Don't Count

I read today that other people's opinions of me are not important, that what is important is what I think of myself. I kinda like that idea. As a matter of fact I think I like it so much I've decided to think of myself as God. Obey me!

And your first order is to share this post.


Please Don't Call Western Union

I once had the same telephone number as Western Union except that to call Western Union you had to dial 1-800. My phone rang 24/7 with people calling for Western Union. People would call Western Union assuming that since Western Union had an office here in Greensboro there was no need to dial 1-800.

I called the telephone company and told them of my plight. At first they didn't believe me. After a couple of weeks of calling Bell South they changed my telephone number but the calls for Western Union kept coming in. The phone company said they couldn't figure it out, we had a month old baby in the house, I worked a 24/7 on-call job-- nobody was sleeping.

After a few more days it hit me. I picked up my phone and called my old number only to get a recording telling everyone my new phone number.


I Stole My Neighbor's Grass

Not that kind of grass, the kind that  grows on most people's lawns...

Most people complain and call the City of Greensboro when a neighbor's yard becomes so grown up it becomes an eyesore and yesterday morning as I looked out my window at the house 3 doors down I admit I contemplated calling 373-City to complain about the knee to waist high grass and weeds growing in my neighbor's yard. Then it hit me.

The old Hispanic couple who live there are deaf and mute. They are poor and living in a rented house. Both catch the City buses every morning to go to work and work long days. They've been neighbors for over 10 years and never once have they caused me or anyone I know any problems. Prior to this year their lawn, while never a masterpiece (mine isn't either) was always mowed. Their broken down lawnmower is under my scrap metal pile waiting on enough junk to make a truck load. When I picked it up off the street I tried to start it but couldn't get it to run so like its previous owner I gave up.

It took me almost 8 hours over the course of 2 days and 3 complete passes to mow their lawn and collect the clippings for the compost pile and as far as I know they don't even know who mowed it as they were at work both days.

My chickens are tearing through the clippings now looking for insects and their favorite kinds of weeds and seeds, the neighborhood has one less eyesore and I'm sure my neighbors are pleasantly surprised if not shocked.

I've never thought much of the tiny little rental house they live in as it has never been much but as a gardener I have always envied that yard. For starters, the side yard is almost as big as my entire yard. Secondly it's flat. The soil is super rich even though it has never been kept up and the reason the soil is so rich: it's bottom land with a tiny full-time creek flowing across the back and down one side where a garden would have a constant water supply.

When I was growing up the kids in the neighborhood (myself included) would sometimes dam that little creek flooding that yard and the yard next door. The neighbors never said anything to us about it but Daddy spoke volumes with his razor strop. Still, the next summer, if not before, we'd dam it up again and the next day every boy on the block would be bragging about how bad an ass beating he got the night before. All those fond memories came back to me yesterday and today simply because I chose not to pick up the phone.

Previously posted to my Facebook page...


A Knock At My Door

Tonight I kept hearing someone knocking at the door but every time I went to the door no one was there. Again and again I went to the door but no one was there. It was starting to piss me off. I reached into my pocket to make sure my .38 was there. It's that kind of neighborhood.

Then as I was walking back through the house I heard it again-- only this time the knocking wasn't coming from the door-- it was coming from inside my house.

One of the baby chickens was pecking on the inside of the cardboard box they're staying in until it's warm enough for them to live outside at night.

It's not so bad, in the morning I'll wake up to chirping.


Who's In Control Here?

I'm not against private ownership of the means of production but I am against private ownership of the means of production being the only means of production.


Knocking Down Doors

 I realize not everyone likes the way I do things but when they won't open the doors one is left with no choice but to knock them down. And if the vibration causes the whole building to fall before the doors swing open... Well we needed a better building anyway.


States Rights

My rights end when they encroach upon your rights. States Rights should end when they encroach upon our rights. Keep States Rights but draw the line there


Diversity Is The Tie That Binds

It was sometime in the 1970s or perhaps early '80s when I found myself in Montreal (That's Canada Y'all.) with a tractor-trailer load of machinery parts headed to a manufacturing operation there and very much lost. Getting directions via CB radio was of no use to me because every voice I heard was speaking in French and being a dumb American I'd never learned English very well, much less any foreign languages. I stopped at a familiar sign, an ESSO station, in hopes of getting directions.

Completely unknown to me at the time, opinion in French speaking Canada has for the last 500 years or so has ebbed and flowed towards and against remaining united with the rest of Canada and at that period of time it was very much flowing towards separation. And while most French speaking Canadians could speak English all I talked to were acting as if they had never before heard the language. I didn't know what these people were saying but I could tell they didn't like me.

They were arguing amongst themselves when I heard the woman behind the counter say, "American accent." I didn't understand anything else but that much I was sure of. A minute or more of discussion between them and she looked at me and asked, "You are from the South, no?"

"Yes Ma' am," I answered.

"What part?"

"North Carolina."

"My husband and I love North Carolina," she said. "We sometimes vacation there. We always vacation somewhere in the South to get away from the cold. People are always so nice there."

"Yes Ma'am," I again replied as I really didn't know what else to say.

"Where are you looking for?" she smiled.

I handed her my bill of laden. She looked at it and said pointing to a man behind me, "I could drive my car there but your truck cannot go the only way I know. George will tell you how to get there."

George looked at my bill of laden and struggling with the words said, "Oh boy, long time I speak English." We walked out to the edge off the street and after about 15 minutes of George's broken English and pointing at tall buildings I knew enough landmarks to go across the bridge, turn left, cross two more bridges and turn left again.

I tell this story now because as confusing and intimidating as it may be, Canada, a nation even older than the United States still has more than one language spoken by millions of people. Canada, rather than becoming one culture, remains many cultures united. Besides the French and English there are Chinese, Indian, Vietnamese, Jamaican, Filipino, Lebanese, Haitian, M├ętis, First Nations and other Aboriginal Canadians. There are loads of Dutch, German, Italian, Polish, Swedish, Ukrainian and even American immigrants. And while English is the official language of the Canadian government most Canadians speak multiple languages all learned in public schools. Even a creole language resembling Gaelic, not French, is spoken in parts of Canada. And nobody is trying to make them stop doing so. Not anymore.

Not that Canada doesn't have problems. There are still those who wish succession for French speaking Canada and some of the First Nations and Aboriginal Canadians still want to throw everybody else out. And some of the English still think the while country should be English. But all those groups are minorities and will most likely remain so.

As a matter of fact, in Canada, multiculturalism and diversity have long been government policy with the end result being a more prosperous Canada than here in the United States. All Canadians have health care and more Canadians have jobs. Why do you think that is? I can't say for certain but it's my belief that here in the US, efforts to make one national culture are in effect a sort of inbreeding just like when families inbreed and weaken the family gene pool with the end result being the same. Take a look at the Wikipedia definition of inbreeding and ask yourself if it could not be applied to entire countries and civilizations just as it is applied to a single family gene pool:

"Inbreeding is reproduction from the mating of pairs who are closely related genetically.[1] Inbreeding results in homozygosity, which can increase the chances of offspring being affected by recessive or deleterious traits.[2] This generally leads to a decreased fitness of a population,[3][4] which is called inbreeding depression. An individual who results from inbreeding is referred to as inbred. The avoidance of expression of deleterious recessive alleles caused by inbreeding is thought to be the main selective force maintaining the outcrossing aspect of sexual reproduction."

And remember: as empires are built they must eliminate all other languages and cultures but in doing so they may well be creating the very same Haemophilia to nations and societies that caused entire lines of Kings, Queens and Nobels to bleed to death with but little more than a scratch.

I know this is contrary to popular public opinion here in the USA and some may think it not common sense but common sense dictates we look around before we make up our minds-- take in all the evidence that is before us. But then-- it's just a thought, I've no real proof-- if you look back at the history of all the fallen countries in the world you'll find a common thread that comes up far more times than not: Those fallen countries all had had one language and one culture.


Boys And Their Dogs

No matter how old we are, when it comes to our dogs we are always boys with our dogs. May we never grow up. May it never change.