Sarcasm At Its Finest

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Harley Davidson Closing Plant Due to Declining Sales

INSIGHTFUL (AND FREE) ANALYSIS:

Apparently the Baby-Boomers all have motorcycles.  Generation X is only buying a few, and the next generation isn’t buying any at all.  A recent study was done to find out why.  

Here are the reasons why Millennials​ don’t ride motorcycles:

  1. Pants won’t pull up far enough for them to straddle the seat.
  2. Can’t get their phone to their ear with a helmet on.
  3. Can’t use 2 hands to eat while driving.
  4. They don’t get a trophy and a recognition plaque just for buying one.
  5. Don’t have enough muscle to hold the bike up when stopped.
  6. Might have a bug hit them in the face and then they would need emergency care.
  7. Motorcycles don’t have air conditioning.
  8. They can’t afford one because they spent 12 years in college trying to get educated.
  9. They are allergic to fresh air.
  10. Their pajamas get caught on the exhaust pipes.
  11. They might get their hands dirty checking the oil.
  12. The handle bars have buttons and levers and can not be controlled by touch-screen.
  13. You have to shift manually and use something called a clutch.
  14. It’s too hard to take selfies while riding.
  15. They don’t come with training wheels like their bicycles did.
  16. Motorcycles don’t have power steering or power brakes.
  17. Their nose ring interferes with the face shield.
  18. They would have to use leg muscle to back up.
  19. When they stop, a light breeze might blow exhaust in their face.
  20. It could rain on them and expose them to non-soft water.
  21. It might scare their therapy dog, and then the dog would need therapy.

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Writing for the Sake of Writing

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The wine buzz tonight is taking my head into a tail spin. I guess three glasses of wine is too much for my feeble brain to handle. I just read a chapter of my book to Peg, and for once she didn’t fall asleep. Either the story was good, or she was awake. Earlier we went to a local place called Ryan’s Pub for a wine, and some fish. Being it is Friday during lent it is a meat less day. Ryan’s is a mile and a half from our house, and we have driven past it for ten years without ever going in to check it out. Well my virginity is gone, we walked through the portals for the Friday night fish fry. Lo and behold I spy my friend Al sitting at the bar when we walk in. This is better than I imagined. I ordered a Cab for my self, and a lemonade for Peg, and two Walleye dinners to go. We kibitzed with Al while we waited. I’m telling Al and Peg that the last time I was in this place was thirty years ago for a going away party for an engineer from work. Don’t ask me who was leaving I don’t remember, but I do remember the place. It hasn’t changed much in thirty years. Then I proceeded to talk about my old friend Pat from work who owned the place with his daily presence. He lives right around the corner a block away. A few minutes later a short thin guy with bowed legs, white beard, cowboy boots, and cowboy hat walks in. I ask the barkeeper Heather if that is Pat. She says “it sure is.”

I walk over to him fortified by four ounces of Cab, and greet him with “Hey you old bowlegged sum-na-bitch how are ya doin?” He looks at me with a long dumb look. “You remember me don’t ya?”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember your name.”

“It is me , Joe from Panduit.”

“Oh yes I remember now.”

First impressions hit hard sometimes, and when I looked into Pat’s face I saw an old man, a very old man, a lot older than I ever remembered him to look. Pat was a vigorous young tool-maker who grew up in suburban Harvey, Illinois and moved to live in Tucson, Arizona for a several years. He loved it there, and never got away from the cowboy look. He returned to Chicago to work at the Panduit plant in Tinley Park for his old school chum Roy Moody. Before Pat moved to Arizona he was a motorcycle racer. He loved speed on two wheels, and loved the adrenaline rush he got from speeding shoulder to shoulder around a clay track at ninety miles per hour. Of course his knees are shot, and he has lots of broken bones to his credit. When the weather was right he rode a motorcycle, when the weather wasn’t right he drove a pick up truck. He and his wife raised two kids on a mini-ranch in Frankfort, IL. He still lives there.

One of the most spectacular wakes I ever went to was for Pat’s first wife Bev. She and he were riding home on his Harley one Sunday night about ten p.m. with the Bike Club when a rider in front of him lost control,and began swinging in broad “esses” across the road in front of him. Pat T-boned him going sixty mph. The two bikes went in different directions. Pat’s wife who sat behind him like a proud Harley Girl went flying over his head and landed on her neck, crunch! She was dead with a broken neck.

Pat was President of his Bike Club and his wife was first lady. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid my eyes on, and now she was dead at age thirty-five. The wake was in Frankfort at Gerardi’s Funeral home. Back then Frankfort didn’t have more than twenty-five hundred people and Gerardi’s was a small place. Because Pat and I worked together my wife Barb and I attended the wake. At the time we lived in Alsip twenty miles north of Frankfort. We approached Frankfort on US Route 30 from the east. I noticed many Harley riders going the opposite way. We knew when we arrived at Gerardi’s because there were motorcycles parked two inches apart wrapped around the entire building. I remember saying that if I kicked the first bike they would all fall over like dominos. The line of people attending the wake wrapped around the building too. We assumed our place in line and patiently waited. A number of big brawny Harley guys carried Pat out into the parking lot on a chair for him to get some air. His wife was dead, and he looked like he rolled over the road for a mile or two before he finally came to rest. Lots of black and blue with red raw abrasions on his arms and swollen head. He didn’t look too healthy, but he was alive. The big guys set him down in the center of the lot. The line of people walked past him to the parlor. He sat there swilling a beer accepting condolences like a man who has lost his partner in a bike accident.

Inside the Parlor, we finally got to pass Bev’s coffin. She wore her best Harley attire. Her black leather Jacket with the club emblem was hanging on the kneeler in front of the casket on display. She looked as beautiful as ever.

Funny what memories a little Cab, and a chance meeting of an old friend will induce.

I Am the Democratic, Republican, Liberal-Progressive’s Worst Nightmare.

Harley-Davidson 1000 cc HT 1916

Harley-Davidson 1000 cc HT 1916 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A friend sent this to me today, and I want to meet the man who wrote it and to shake his hand. I want to  say thank you for expressing the views shared by the majority of Americans.

I Am the Democratic, Republican Liberal-Progressive’s Worst Nightmare.

I am a White, Conservative, Tax-Paying, American Veteran, Gun Owning Biker. That’s me!

I am a Master Mason. I work hard and long hours with my hands to earn a living.

I believe in God and the freedom of religion, but I don’t push it on others.

I ride Harley Davidson Motorcycles, and drive American-made cars, and

I believe in American products and buy them whenever I can.

 I believe the money I make belongs to me and not some liberal Governmental functionary,

Democratic or Republican, that wants to share it with others who don’t work!

 I’m in touch with my feelings and I like it that way!

 I think owning a gun doesn’t make you a killer; it makes you a smart American.

 I think being a minority does not make you noble or victimized, and

Does not entitle you to anything. Get over it!

 I believe that if you are selling me a Big Mac or any other item, you should do it in English.

 I believe there should be no other language option.

 I believe everyone has a right to pray to his or her God when and where they want to.

 My heroes are Malcolm Forbes, Bill Gates, John Wayne, Babe Ruth,

Roy Rogers, and Willie G. Davidson, who makes the awesome Harley Davidson Motorcycles.

 I don’t hate the rich. I don’t pity the poor.

I know wrestling is fake and I don’t waste my time watching or arguing about it.

 I’ve never owned a slave, nor was I a slave. I haven’t burned any

Witches or been persecuted by the Turks, and neither have you!

 I believe if you don’t like the way things are here, go back to where

You came from and change your own country!

 This is AMERICA …We like it the way it is and more so the way it was…

so stop trying to change it to look like Russia or China , or some other socialist country!

If you were born here and don’t like it… You are free to move to any

Socialist country that will have you. I believe it is time to really clean house,

Starting with the White House, the seat of our biggest problems.

 I want to know which church is it, exactly, where the Reverend

Jesse Jackson preaches, where he gets his money, and why he

Is always part of the problem and not the solution?

 Can I get an AMEN on that one?

 I also think the cops have the right to pull you over if you’re

Breaking the law, regardless of what color you are, but not

Just because you happen to ride a bike.

 And, no, I don’t mind having my face shown on my driver’s license.

I think it’s good…. and I’m proud that ‘God’ is written on my money..

 I think if you are too stupid to know how a ballot works, I

Don’t want you deciding who should be running the most

Powerful nation in the world for the next four years.

 I dislike those people standing in the intersections trying to sell

Me stuff or trying to guilt me into making ‘donations’ to their cause….

Get a job and do your part to support yourself and your family!

 I believe that it doesn’t take a village to raise a child, it takes two parents….

 I believe ‘illegal’ is illegal no matter what the lawyers think!

 I believe the American flag should be the only one allowed in AMERICA !

 If this makes me a BAD American, then yes, I’m a BAD American.

 If you are a BAD American too, please forward this to everyone you know…

 We want our country back!

 My Country….. I hope this offends all illegal aliens.

 My great, great, great, great grandfather watched and bled as his

friends died in the Revolution & the War of 1812.

 My great, great, great grandfather watched as his friends died in the Mexican American War.

 My great, great grandfather watched as his friends & brothers died in the Civil War.

 My great grandfather watched as his friends died in the Spanish-American War.

 My grandfather watched as his friends died in WWI.

My father watched as his friends died in WWII.

 I watched as my friends died in Vietnam, Panama & Desert Storm.

 My son watched & bled as his friends died in Afghanistan and Iraq.

 None of them died for the Mexican Flag.

 Everyone died for the American flag!!!

 Texas high school students raised a Mexican flag on a school flag pole,

other students took it down. Guess who was expelled…the students

who took it down.

 California high school students were sent home on Cinco de Mayo,

because they wore T-shirts with the American flag printed on them.

 Enough is enough

 This message needs to be viewed by

every American; and every American

needs to stand up for America!!!

 We’ve bent over to appease the America-haters long enough.

I’m taking a stand.

 I’m standing up because the hundreds of thousands who died fighting

in wars for this country, and for the American flag.

 If you agree, stand up with me. 

And shame on anyone who tries to make this a racist message.

 AMERICANS, stop giving away Your RIGHTS !

 Let me make this clear! THIS IS MY COUNTRY!!!

 This statement DOES NOT mean I’m against immigration!

 YOU ARE WELCOME HERE, IN MY COUNTRY, welcome tocome legally:

 

1. Get a sponsor

 2. Learn the LANGUAGE, as immigrants have in the past!

 3. Live by OUR rules!

 4. Get a job!

 5. Pay YOUR Taxes!

 6. No Social Security until you have earned it and Paid for it!

 7. NOW find a place to lay your head!

 

If you don’t want to forward this for fear of offending someone,

then YOU’RE PART OF THE PROBLEM !

 We’ve gone so far the other way . . . bent over backwards not to offend anyone.

 Only AMERICANS seem to care when American Citizens are being offended!

 

WAKE UP America! ! !

 Made in the U S A & PROUD OF IT!!!!!

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