Planning Ahead

A friend of mine recently posted on his Facebook page what I believe to be his own eulogy. I’ve known the man for thirty plus years and I know he is fighting cancer for the past ten. Later, another friend told me he is in hospice care.

With that in mind I am preparing for my own demise be it in the next five seconds or five decades, I think I have found the perfect tombstone inscription, except I would plagiarize the words and exchange the name and photo with mine. Let me know if you agree.

I Am Proud To Be An Old Fart

I never really liked the terminology “Old Farts” but this makes me feel better about it.
And if you ain’t one, I bet ya you know one!
I got this from an “Old Fart” friend of mine!
OLD FART PRIDE
I’m passing this on as I did not want to be the only old fart receiving it. Actually, it’s not a bad thing to be called, as you will see. Old Farts are easy to spot at sporting events; during the playing of the National Anthem. Old Farts remove their caps and stand at attention and sing without embarrassment.  They know the words and believe in them.

Old Farts remember World War II, Pearl Harbour ,  Guadalcanal , Normandy  and Hitler. They remember the Atomic Age, the Korean War, The Cold War, the Jet Age and the Moon Landing. They remember the 50 plus Peacekeeping Missions from 1945 to 2005, not to mention  Vietnam .

If you bump into an Old Fart on the sidewalk he will apologize. If you pass an Old Fart on the street, he will nod or tip his cap to a lady. Old Farts trust strangers and are courtly to women.

Old Farts hold the door for the next person and always, when walking, make certain the lady is on the inside for protection.

Old Farts get embarrassed if someone curses in front of women and children and they don’t like any filth or dirty language on TV or in movies.

Old Farts have moral courage and personal integrity. They seldom brag unless it’s about their children or grandchildren.

It’s the Old Farts who know our great country is protected, not by politicians, but by the young men and women in the military serving their country.

This country needs Old Farts with their work ethic, sense of responsibility, pride in their country and decent values.

We need them now more than ever.

Thank God for Old Farts!

Pass this on to all the “Old Farts” you know.

I was taught to respect my elders.
It’s just getting harder to find them.

Trump Economy a Failure

I didn’t watch the democrat debate last night because I didn’t feel like getting sick. I saw enough on the news this morning to cause my gall bladder to kick out some serious bile. This bit featured several candidates proclaiming that the Trump economy is a failure because it only addresses the rich, poor people do not benefit.

Let me see now, as I read this they mean that the lowly people don’t get to make the same as the rich. I kind of remember that in a socialist society like the USSR, Cuba and Venezuela the lowly people all make the same as the rich right? That logic fails me. I keep hearing that the Cubans are all poor, but the rich are still rich, except there may be fewer rich people in Cuba. Why? Because the only rich people are the ones running the country, same in Venezuela. At least in the Trump economy there are more rich people because they are all working their asses off to make it. While all of the lowly poor people now have jobs and they are richer than they were under our former leader’s economy when everyone was on food stamps.

There must be a DNA link in me that keeps my feeble brain thinking that the socialist way is evil for the world. There must also be a DNA link in the socialists that cause them to believe that evil is good. Why else would so many of them preach the same wretched doctrine?

I read an article about the new homeless people in all the major cities of the USA. Many of them don’t want to live the idyllic life we normal people live. They actually want to live homeless because it gives them a degree of freedom and liberty not available to those of us who believe in sleeping in a bed. My mind immediately flashed a picture of settlers living in the old west, and homesteaders living in Alaska’s most remote areas. They love living free. A modern day homeless homesteader likes the urban environment over the natures wild best. It is easier to bum a meal on the streets when you get hungry than it is to go catch a fish, or to shoot a squirrel then have to clean it to eat it.

So here we are living in a society that is split into many factions. The socialist side wants to mind control, care for, and provide equal misery for everybody while the capitalist side wants total freedom to allow people to make money and care for themselves. No matter which faction you belong to there will be a fraction of them who are filthy rich who will lord over all the others.

However, I have never heard a socialist ever admit that the ruling class lives a better life than those whose lives he is making better. They are all kind of like Bernie Sanders who drives a posh car, has several homes, and lives rich while preaching free stuff for everyone.

Lately, I have been reading stories from countries who have adopted democratic socialism that are not sounding so beautiful. Evidently a seventy percent taxation is getting these people down, especially after taking in so many refugees and immigrants.

All I can say is that my kids and grandkids will have to deal with it. My sorry ass isn’t going to be around too much longer and I am tough enough to live through most any kind of political culture we impose upon ourselves. I am glad however, that I chose to live conservatively because that is why I can afford to do the things I do today.

190626-Political Rant

 

I have to get this off my chest. For what ever reason I watched a round table discussion with Democrat Presidential Candidate Julian Castro.

Mr. Castro got my ire up but good. I truly believe he is the son or bastard of one Fidel Castro, and is determined to make this country as communist as Cuba. Julian was hired by Obama to serve as Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. Somehow I don’t remember him for anything outstanding. Now that I’ve listened to his political campaign bullshit I know why. This guy isn’t capable of finding his way out of a paper bag open at the end. He answered each question with an annoying “thank you for your question,” and then proceeded to demean President Trump without ever addressing the question. His biggest mistake was in describing conditions at the border and the handling of children as unacceptable. Well, Julian, President Trump is following the policy laid out by your former boss, and upheld by all your progressive judges..

Any one who is interested in voting for this man as our next leader should do the following: put a gun to your head and pull the trigger. The result will be much better than that of having this clown as our leader.

Crossing the Bridge

Today is one of those days when I feel the need to write something, but don’t have a clue about the topic. So here I am jumping into the fray hoping inspiration will kick in.

I just got off the phone with a buddy from grammar school. We discussed many things and one of them was our paper routes. It turns out that I got his route when he quit. We discussed dead beat customers who never paid on time. Those were the days when a route was a franchise, and I bought the newspapers and delivered them. If I wanted to get paid I had to collect from my customers. There were weeks when all my pay (profit) was tied up   in unpaid subscriptions. Eventually, I hounded the dead beats into paying up. The hipocrisy of these folks was that they were the ones who complained the most. The paper is late, the paper was in the bushes, the paper was wet, I didn’t get the paper, the list went on and on.

I kept the route for two and a half years, starting in the sixth grade and finishing in the eighth. When I started high school it was time to give it up. Another boy from the neighborhood took it over and had it until he finished school.

I crossed over the bridge to high school, and a new chapter of my life began. I was partially liberated from my parents and free to join clubs and sports activities at will. What did I choose? A job.

The priests who taught at my school lived in a monastery and needed someone to answer the phone and take messages for them. I was the one. It gave me a place to do homework while I waited for the phone to ring. The job started at 4:00 p.m and ended at 7:00 p.m. That gave me a little time to wander around the local business area before I started. I caught a streetcar to go home and was usually home by eight.

Kids today, don’t have experiences like that anymore. When school is finished they run to catch the school bus to take them home. If they are in sports or a club they run to catch the special bus which runs later. Too many kids today, have their own cars to use, and don’t even use buses.

I was a senior before my dad allowed me to use the family car to get to and from school. He always allowed me to use the car for weekend activities, but very seldom did he give his ride to me. I didn’t own a car until I finished college and bought one for my self.

 

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