Miscellanea

Ah, troubled youth.


I met her on 4chan, but alas, it was not meant to be.


Now you know.




I don't have an iPhone, so this amuses me. In fact, my cell phone is almost 4 years old and I won't upgrade because it does almost everything I want, i.e. makes and receives calls and holds a battery charge. The only option I could do without is the one where it takes multiple pictures of the inside of my pocket. I have dozens of those. I should post my favorites here, you'd like that, eh?


Kinda sums this all up, don't it?

No Sniveling

Well, maybe a little. I spent a long morning in the chair at the oral surgeon, and am now waiting for the next blessed wave of Vicodin to kick in.

Good Advice

A DEA officer stops at a ranch in Texas, and talks with an old rancher. He tells the rancher, "I need to inspect your ranch for illegally grown drugs." The rancher says, "Okay , but don't go in that field over there," as he points out the location.

The DEA officer verbally explodes saying, " Mister, I have the authority of the Federal Government with me." Reaching into his rear pants pocket, he removes his badge and proudly displays it to the rancher. "See this badge? This badge means I am allowed to go wherever I wish.... On any land. No questions asked or answers given. Have I made myself clear? Do you understand? "

The rancher nods politely, apologizes, and goes about his chores.

A short time later, the old rancher hears loud screams and sees the DEA officer running for his life chased by the rancher's big Santa Gertrudis bull.

With every step the bull is gaining ground on the officer, and it seems likely that he'll get gored before he reaches safety. The officer is clearly terrified. The rancher throws down his tools, runs to the fence and yells at the top of his lungs.....

" Your badge. Show him your BADGE !"

Holiday Fun for the Young'uns

Stuff That Made Me Smile

I laughed long and loud at this one. Oh yes I did.


I really don't care if you don't eat meat. But how many times have you run across some self-righteous vegetarian liberal who proceeds to bash religious people for being self-righteous and delusional?


Celebrity rehab has been a Hollywood problem far longer than most people realize.


WWJD = Who Would Jesus Deny.


Barbie works hard to stay on top of the Doll heap.


Movie Monster in Bondage. Somehow, it seems so right for Rocket Jones

Ubiquitous

What's Been Happening

Heaps, mon! Heaps o' heaps!

At work, I finished up my annual and perennially chaotic end-of-fiscal-year project and immediately got slammed with an even bigger and shorter-deadlined project.

Wife Liz has had a couple of surgeries lately. Pure success, but some lingering complications from the last one are being watched closely by all concerned.

Son TJ is still employed and living in the area. These days, you count your blessings.

Granddaughter Lorelei turned two. I taught her to eskimo kiss.

Daughter Robyn is a great mom and a helluva cook. She frequently uses the old Rocket Jones recipe archive.

Son-in-law Henry got his new orders (Navy guy). They'll be staying in the Virginia Beach area as he transfers to an F-18 squadron attached to the aircraft carrier George H.W. Bush.

Daughter Rachael has been promoted again at WalMart. Six months ago she started as a part-timer, now she's over all the department managers for clothing, jewelry, shoes and accessories.

There, now you're all caught up.

Boo

If someone complains about the (very) little artistic nudity in the following, tell them to go look at the national debt numbers to see something really scary.

A Visual Response to LeeAnn

To her frightening laundromat story. File under either "It could be worse" or "Dark Fantasy".

Yeah, There's an App for That

"App" meaning "appliance", 'natch.

Well, *un*-naturally may be more correct. For all the delicate flowers who are reading this, please stop now. I don't need any more complaints about how Rocket Jones corrupted your mind. You should be thanking me.

Follow this link to see eleven dildos (dildoes? How does one pluralize that? If any of you ladies know, please email me privately, I want to hear all about it.) Um, back on point... yeah, eleven artificial appendages from critters you may fantasize about, ranging from the mundane - as if that word even applies - to the mythical. Wolf? Check. Dolphin? Gotcha covered. Dragon? Twice (huh? A dragon tongue is the other one.)

All that, plus more, are available from Bad Dragon.

You're welcome.

Happy Dance Time

On the rare occasions where I talk about baseball here on Rocket Jones, it's almost always about the Potomac Nationals, our local minor league team (and this year's Carolina League champs, yay!)

But right now, I'm grinning like an idiot and I admit I squealed like a little girl when the San Francisco Giants won their game tonight to take the NL pennant.

World Series: Texas Rangers vs. San Fransisco Giants. Woot!

Summation

No Point to This, But I Make Up for it By Randomly Capitalizing the Title

So two days ago we got big rain, which moved on through and then turned into the Nor'easter which is currently kicking ass up New England way.

Today is windy as hell, from being on the tail end side of the Nor'easter. Beautiful and sunny, but windy.

Today was also "bulk pickup day", which happens in the Spring and Fall. Pretty much anything you can drag to the curb gets picked up and hauled off, saving trips to the dump. I took the opportunity to get rid of a lot of crap in the backyard and basement, including unbelievable numbers of flower pots that had accumulated over the years.

My yard looks much better and uncluttered.

Since I was doing the cleanup this morning, I couldn't go hiking. I'll go tomorrow.

Just for fun I took my backpack out back with me. After hauling the last of the rubbish to the curb, I set up my hiker kitchen and started a pot of water to boil. While that was heating up I finished raking the leaves.

When it was ready I made oatmeal and a big cup of tea, and enjoyed them out in my newly clean backyard. Very relaxing, and I've pretty much done everything I *need* to do today, before noon.

Sure is windy.

The Lunatic is On the Grass

Not Even Remotely Related to Each Other, but I Do Mention Breakfast, So I Guess It Ties Into What I Said in the Last Post

Factoid heard on the radio this morning: This year, October has 5 Fridays, 5 Saturdays and 5 Sundays. That won't happen again for 863 years.

I've discovered Nutella. Nice change from peanut butter once in a while. I ate some on a piece of whole grain bread for breakfast.

I know, right?

Laid Low By Grevious Designs

I'm recovering from a nasty case of food poisoning. Self-administered. Two things kept this completely localized to just myself - first, I was alone in the house this weekend, and second, even if I weren't, nobody else here likes French Onion Soup.

Oh yes, the homemade soup is definitely the culprit. More specifically, the beef base I used to make the stock. I have been thoroughly mocked and ridiculed for my stupidity, which in Obama-speak, was mock-worthy and ridicule-ready.

Still, it was a magnificently tasty batch of soup. I hated to throw the rest of it out when I realized what I had done to myself. A few ideas did cross my mind, but I don't know if anyone on my "short list" likes onion soup. I shall make enquiries. For future reference.

Hi Sheri!

This pretty much sums up my feelings towards the internet lately.


Yep.


If for some unholy reason I had to get a Hello Kitty tattoo, this would be it.


More Hello Kitty...


Hello Kitty with fingernails!


Rocket Jones has become a mere shadow of its former self. At this point, I keep it on life support only to annoy those corporate assclowns who stole my name several years ago (and no link for them).

Reveling in my Continuity

Shark to shark, nails to nails. Sounds like a passage from a Goth Bible.

Satan's Own Simian

Which has nothing to do with this picture. Like I ever worried about continuity.

Speaking of which, I do know that the baboon is not technically a simian. Because while I couldn't care less about continuity, I do like to be accurate. But "Satan's Own Baboon" or "Lucifer's Own Old-World Monkey" just didn't make the cut.

Nobody Will Play With Me

Not Overheard At The Office Today

It wasn't overheard because I was the frustrated soul speaking.

Working here is like being in charge of a day care center, without the satisfaction of handing out spankings.

Best co-worker response:

I thought you would've reached this point two hours ago.

My First Contact With A Visitor To The Meth Clinic

I now work in downtown DC. My parking garage is about four blocks from the building where I work, and I drive in early enough that I normally don't see but one or two people on the sidewalks in the morning.

Turns out that wasn't what I should've been watching for. This morning, just as I stepped off the curb to cross the street - with the light - a brand new Lincoln Town Car screeches to a nose-dropping stop halfway into the crosswalk I was in. Not ten feet in front of me.

The driver was an elderly black man, grey goatee, porkpie hat, dark suit, dark shirt, light colored tie. Pimp.

I glared at him. He glared at me.

I walked around his car and continued on my way. Behind me, the light changed and he turned onto the street I was on, already flying as he passed me.

Two blocks later, he's parked on the street and stepping out of his car, greeting his addict friends as they all waited for the Meth Clinic to open. After doing their thing, they all wander over to the building I work in and mingle with the homeless in the open-to-the-public cafeteria. This happens every. Freakin. Morning.

I'm a live and let live kind of guy, and as long as Pimp Nitwit doesn't try to run me over again I'll have no problem with them. I'm glad they're getting help. On my dime. And I don't ever use the cafeteria in our building.

Congrats P-Nats!!!

The Potomac Nationals (single A) won the Carolina League Championship for the second time in three years this evening.

Crime Wave

Lawn Forking.

Police in North Londonderry Township say they are investigating a Tuesday night incident where someone toilet papered a vehicle and some bushes in the 100 block of Bradley Road. The unknown perpetrators also stuck 50 plastic forks and knives in the yard.

Those fiends.

In Kind Of A Weird Mood...

...so it's picturebook story time! Yay!

Once upon a time, people realized that almost everyone else was a complete jerk.


And even when you thought it might be true love, it usually hurt like a mother.


Finding that special someone seemed impossible because of incompatibility issues.


Some retreated to their faithful toys, some into childhood fantasies. Some both.


Finding a friend who shared your interests could be frustrating, sometimes joining a club helped. Sometimes.


And if you found your special someone and shouted it from the rooftops, the rest of the world looked at you like you were crazy.


The End.

Self-explanatory.

Remembrance

This will be a little different from most 9/11 posts and articles you'll see today. This one goes a little more towards who we are, as Americans, and how we approach life in general. This is not full of great insight or analysis, it's just one of my little stories.

When I got my orders to Germany, I had to go alone because my family was not allowed to join me until I had secured housing on the German economy. This was standard procedure for almost everyone who went overseas. It wasn't a quick and easy process, both because acceptable housing was limited off base and you had to house hunt while in-processing and getting up to speed on your new job.

And I found a house. The village was named Reuschbach and was about 5 miles from the air base. I moved in to the bottom floor of a two story house (the landlords lived upstairs) and Liz began the process of getting our household goods shipped over and scheduling the trip for herself and our two very young kids.

In the meantime, Reuschbach was having a party. Maybe it was their 750th birthday* or something, I don't remember. But the important thing was that there would be a weeklong party out at the village park, in the woods outside of town. My landlord made sure to invite me and made sure I went.

The first night was fun. I straightened out the beer vendor, who insisted that all Americans drank beer ice cold. German beer sucks when it's ice cold, it's meant to be cool. Like I said, that happened once, and I was even more accepted after that. I ate sausages and saurkraut** and staggered home in the early morning hours.

The next night we did it again. I drank beer and became best friends with several people who spoke as little English as I spoke German. And there was one very pretty young lady there.

I started to talk to her and found she spoke much better English than most of my new friends. She was 20 years old, and it wasn't until we both got up to get more beer that I discovered that she limped badly from a physical deformity.

As the night went on, I found out that she really wanted to be a teacher, but the Government wouldn't let her because "a cripple cannot take proper care of children." I was outraged, and spent much of the next two nights encouraging her to fight back and not accept their stupid rules.

At one point, she told me, "You Americans are always like this. You never give up and you think you can have anything you want, just because you want it." She said this with wonder in her voice, as if she was discovering that all she'd heard about us crazy Americans was true.

I pressed her on it, telling her that if she was willing to work hard for it, there was no reason that she couldn't fulfill her dream of teaching. To hell with the authorities who decided she was better suited to clerical work in an office, just because of her bodily imperfection.

Eventually her Mother got involved, reminding me that I was a guest and shouldn't be putting crazy ideas into her daughter's head. We exchanged a few letters after that, and at one point we were going to meet in a nearby city so that my wife could meet her too, but plans for that fell through and were never followed up.

I often wonder whatever happened to her. I sometimes wonder if a little bit of the crazy American attitude rubbed off on her. Lord knows I tried.

* If that sounds implausible, a good friend of mine lived in Biersborn, not too far away. They celebrated their 1500th birthday while we were there. Biersborn appeared on ancient Roman maps as a trade route waypoint.

** I had saurkraut that night within weeks of arriving in Germany, and never again even saw it on a menu in a restaurant for the rest of my three-year tour.

Since It Went Over So Well Last Time

Bondage Chick.


Creative. Cool. I suspect though, that it only really works a couple of hours a day.


You had the acronym first? Fine, here's your fucking pandas.


Redundant caption goes here.


I admit it. I smiled.

A Musical Interlude

In somewhat related news, my daughter noticed that I had bought the first two seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Her reaction? She said I was "such a teenaged girl."

Simplify

If IKEA Hired Designers Like Kubrick, Carpenter and Romero

Behold. Furniture to scare guests away.

Flyover Country

During the luncheon after the funeral, I got into some great conversations with my relatives. These folks are all from Iowa, Nebraska and Minnesota.

The most common question I got was, "do you ever see politicians?"

This was always followed up with a statement of dissatisfaction about the current administration and congress. In fact, the nicest reaction was a simple eye roll. Most of them were really and truly pissed off about what's been going on in Washington.

It wasn't limited to agricultural issues either. Iowa has an illegal immigrant problem (see "Egg Recall" for a glaring example), and they're none too happy about it. Unsurprisingly (to me), it's not about race, it's about following the rules and doing the right thing. It's about coming to America and *becoming* an American, not living on the fringes and staying on the outside of society by choice.

It was like looking into a mirror. It was like listening to myself. I guess sturdy midwestern stock breeds true.

Back

Round trip drive to Iowa is about 2500 miles, and we've done it three times since April.

You may recall that Dad spent six weeks with us earlier this year, so we were blessed by having that time with him before he died. Near the end, I'd talked to him once or twice a day, so we had already said our goodbyes. My main reason for going to Iowa this time was to reconnect with family that I've drifted away from over the years. That happened in a big way.

I have a ton of thank you cards and emails to catch up on. Look for canned nonsense for the immediate future. In other words, back to normal.

During my temporary hiatus, I'd remind everyone about my other blog: Quiet Tales. Think of it as me expressing my creative side when I haven't forgotten my meds.