One Man's Minutiae is another Man's Manure...  

All My Originals (2017)

Tonite

Midlife Crisis Song

Bang them things

Obsession

Countryin’ Me to Death

I need a Drink

Call me Lonesome

I only wanna be with you

Stand up!

I keep Hangin’ on

Rain

Put ‘er there

Drunk again

Whatever happened to Suzy Q?

Millennium

Hurt me Again

Harley Man

Young Enough

Lullabye

I wanna build my house on Lover’s Lane

My Baby’s Gone

Left her In Lavalle

Could be Scary

Blues

Drivin’ to Vegas

Working ON:

Ipso Facto Recoil

It would have been Better with me

Little Debby / Red Rocket

Having the time of my life

Shut the f up

3^rd Day of My Sobriety

It Wasn’t the Fault of the Gun

Naked Celebrities

A window into a (possible) future of evil:

 

I work in a school district, so I get to often interact with all kinds of school-age kids… though I am more maintenance than teacher.  (I work as a “systems analyst” which is short for computer-fixer-guy).  Most of the interactions I have with the kids are pleasant or utilitarian.  Like an adult swimming in the kids’ pool, I’m mostly ignored…  and that is as it should be. 

Yet, there have been a few times over the years, where little warning bells went off in my head, as a possible dangerous situation.  As I get older, I’ve learned to listen very carefully to this warning…given that today everyone seems to possess a Glock or at least an AR15 assault rifle.

 

The other night, those warning bells went off loud and clear as I looked into the pleading eyes of a kid no more than 11 years old. 

I had been feeling not so well over the past few days, and I’ve found that working out really does help both my mind and body relax.  Now, my workouts are not big crunches or 2-hour sweat-fests… generally, some weights (a couple of reps), a five-minute pull on the rower, and a three-mile (or less) fast walk (on a slight incline) on the treadmill. 

As I get closer to a 5K I hope to do in April, I will be running on the treadmill too. 

I currently belong to the Baraboo Fitness club.  I’m thinking about moving to a more upscale club (a bit more $) soon, even before this incident.  But, BFC is cheap, and well-kept, even if the machines are old and sometimes out of order.  The place has a glass front, and next door is the neighborhood laundromat.  

The owners are friendly and helpful.  The front has the cardio machines, and in the back are the weights and lifting machines. 

Most of the attendees are, well…if not friendly, at least not threatening.  And most of the muscle-lunks are in the back, and rarely do any cardio work. 

I have my favorite “iron horse” (I call it) treadmill that I mostly use.  It faces out of the window, so I can watch the scenery outside.  I always said that I must be part-dog because I love staring out a window…and enjoy having the window open when I drive…  (arf!)

This particular evening (Saturday) was not late… around 6:30pm and I was the only soul at the center.  I was about halfway through my work out on the old Iron Horse, when I heard a knock at the door.  I turned my head to the left, and saw a small boy, no more than eleven years old, if even that, with an oversize coat wave at me.  I waved back, and continued walking on. 

The knocking persisted, and I looked again and the boy had a troubled look on his face and motioned for me to come to the door.   Thinking there may have been an accident, or perhaps something was wrong, I shut down the machine and headed to the door.

The door is security locked with a card key for entrance after general business hours, so I stood inside the door and shrugged my shoulders at the kid.  He knocked again and asked me to open the door.  

I did open it a crack, and asked, “Yes? Can I help you with something?”

A tiny, clear voice said, “Yeah.  Can I come in?” 

“I’m afraid they do not allow any one in here after hours, unless you have a card.  Do you have a key card?”

“No, but I just want to come in.” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t.  They are pretty big about that here… the rules, you know?  Sorry. Is something wrong?” 

He says, “Well my mom runs this place and she said it’s okay for me to come in.” 

Well, I knew at this point, that was a lie.  I had been a regular here for years and had never seen this kid before. 

And then I noticed something else.  He stuck his foot between the door and the jamb.  

Maybe it’s my suspicious nature, maybe it’s just a reflex, but that’s an old hoodlum trick I once learned from…. Well, let’s just call him an acquaintance… that showed me how to do door-to-door sales.  A way to keep the “mark” talking while trying to convince him to let you inside, where “the real magic happens.” 

I told him, “Well, I’m sure if you bring your mom, she would let you in then.  I’m sorry I can’t.” 

He pointed to a jar sitting on the counter, and said, “Well… can I have a piece of candy then?” 

I looked over at the jar and noticed he now had his body part way in the door as well, as I was holding the door against him. 

I told him, “Well.  No, I’m sorry.  That’s not my candy.  I can’t give it to you.  It’s not my candy to give you.  Sorry.”

Then, he pleaded with me and said, “Come on, man!  Can’t I just have some of that candy?” 

Something bizarre happened at this point.  I looked down into those wide, open, pleading cow-pie eyes… and I thought I could see into this boys’ future.  I saw him, older, maybe 16… and drawing a gun on someone that dared tell him “No, you cannot come in” or “No, you cannot have something that is not yours.” 

It was the most strangest of moments. 

I told him.  “No, I’m sorry.  I cannot let you in or have any candy.” 

His look completely changed then.  He spit out the words in a screaming voice:  “FUCK YOU!”  and then just disappeared. 

The monster within. 

Emboldened, but still foolish… I opened the door after him and yelled:  “Nice!  Thank you very much.  I hope your vocabulary improves with age….”  

I got back to the treadmill to start the machine, and realized my hands were trembling. 

Man… an eleven year old kid made me scared. 

You know, back in the day…I knew a few bad dudes.  I mean, bad bad guys….  Fellas that they write books about….And I’ve witnessed some pretty nasty, weird and wicked stuff.  Let’s just say, I really do know where the bodies are buried.  But, that was a long time ago… In a different life. Now, I’m just a fat, old guy on a treadmill.  And a little kid made me tremble.

I’ve often heard it said that the world has changed. 

Maybe I’ve gotten old and jaded, but I do not think it’s changed for the better.

Dale’s Big Night Out. 

So, in an effort to try and re-establish contact with fellow humans, I decided to go out on the town, so to speak last night. (Saturday Night)

After I made dinner at home, I stuffed the buggy with gas and drove to Lake Delton to see the movie, “The Great Wall.”  Not to be mistaken by that other wall… or the one in music lore (will maybe someday happen in reality… yeah, sure). 

I wasn’t sure, but I noticed my ticket for the 3-d version was cheaper than I thought it would be.  I looked at my ticket stub, and I think the young lad handing out the tickets gave me the senior discount.  

Under many circumstances, I would have found that to be an insult.  In this case, I was more than happy to save a few dollars off what turned out to be a mediocre movie.  (You can read my review of the movie on my movie reviews blog).

 

One pleasant surprise was that I ran into my boss from work at the movie theater.  I knew that he had said he was working there part time.  I don’t really he does it because he needs the money, probably more for having something (anything) to do NOT with computers, and getting out in the real world.  (Anyone that works at school knows there is a difference between the real world and….um… school world). 

He was sweeping the floor of trash, and I quipped it was good to finally see him work for a change.  He laughed a little at that…  I might have to pay for that remark, he’ll probably make me clean his office or wash his car of something…   We exchanged pleasantries and I told him I was going to see “the Great Wall.”  He asked that I give him my impression of the movie we he saw me next time. 

Short review: Meh.  Nearly every movie I’ve seen the last couple of years seems like “MEH,” with a few exceptions.  I was glad I did the 3-D version of it… as this was a movie made for the 3-D.  Otherwise, I would have really felt cheated out of money when I left.

I saw my boss again on the way out and he asked me how it was, and I said pretty much that… Meh.  He said he heard that same thing from others.  I told him I was headed out to see a friend’s band…and he remarked he was surprised the I would be out so late.  Carpe diem – seize the day!  I told him as I headed for the exit.

I was still debating to stop out and see the band as I pulled in the parking space just a block up from the Gem City Saloon in Baraboo.  The Blacker Brothers were playing and I have wanted to check them out for some time.  I opened the door to the busy and noisy Gem City. 

For those of you never been, Gem City is a nicer-than-average type tavern / eatery which has that cool, industrial, gritty feel to it that is so popular with modern joints.  I haven’t been there in a while, and the last time we had great pizza there.  Highly recommended!  My only problem is, because of the brick walls, metal ceiling and tile floors, it’s nearly impossible to have a normal conversation, especially when there’s music and crowds.  Such was the case Saturday night. 

I wedged myself to the corner of the bar and it took me a while to get the attention of the lady behind the bar.  I don’t think the bar lady was overly snobbish… more like really in a hurry.  I also noted that she had that boobs spilling over the top thing going on… which... I guess... is supposed to entice men into tipping her more.  I’m sorry, I did not.

I wanted to act like a big shot and order a gin and tonic… but, since the waitress really seemed annoyed at me... , I just asked for a beer.  Domestic beer was only 3 dollars… good price for… well, nearly anywhere.  I tipped her a buck… and not because of her boobs (though to be rather honest, they were… impressive, even if it was the bra that did the...um...heft of the work... and especially for a man that has wandered through the desert for so long… )

Ummm…   so, the band.  The Blacker Brothers have that great R&B groove that just seems lacking in so many Wisconsin-based white-boy bands.  I was delighted at their musicianship and groove.  There was Cory, guitarist extraordinaire sitting in the corner, peeling of chords of 7^th, 9ths and sustained minors like they were candy falling from trees..   the bass player really hung on the groove, and the drummer… though not flashy, had a great sound (with an UN-MIKED set) and was constant and funky. 

About the only thing I had an issue with was I couldn’t hear the lead singer too well.  What I did hear sounded amazing and soulful, just not as loud as is should be.  The lights were nothing more than the same par 56 LED “pancake” lights that I just got in the mail...on one tree (3 of them), and the sound system was rudimentary, but perfectly functional for the house.

Review: If you ever get the chance, go see The Blacker Brothers. 

One of petty things that annoy me is something new I’ve noticed about “THE CROWD,” and I think this is a new thing.  I’ve noticed that the hardcore fans have this habit of moving the furniture around so that they sit right in front of the lead singer…  in this case, they moved 2 large round tables just a foot in front of the singer.  I know that they are the fans, but its hard for the rest of humanity to see around their fat carcasses and large-block heads. 

Yeah, we get it… you’re friends of the band!  Good for you.  Here’s a trophy.  Now, sit back and let the rest of us see.  

It’s not so much a complaint, more of an observation.  Though, I know it sounds like a complaint.  

I only stayed for 2 beers and a few songs.  As I had to wedge myself between the lady doing nothing but looking at her Cell phone (I wanted to lean over to her and say:  Hey, since you’re not in reality here… do you think you could let the old man lean against the pillar there….and you go play someplace else) and a table of college kids.  I finally thought I would leave when got pushed even more to the side by a pair of young women also pushed into the small space. 

I found myself nearly nose-to-nose with a couple that were talking about her sister…which she was annoyed with because she hasn’t even told her husband that she was pregnant.  I felt like I should have said something at that point… 

I left just as the band was doing a pretty cool version of I can’t feel my face (The Weeknd)..  If I hadn’t felt like a dinosaur walking among the Millennials, I might have stayed longer.  Like I said, it’s been a long time since I was out.  Next week, I might even chance Poor Richards.  (going backwards in time there… ) 

I went home and finished watching the movie Money Monster (Meh!) and noshing on carrots and dip. 

Yeah me!  Mr. Party all night.  

It was a start… but I was glad I got out.  I saw a bad movie, and saw a good band.  Well, at least... it was something. Now, I just need a partner in crime...  

So, I had something horrible happen to me today.  In my usual Monday…  February… blank sort of day at work.  I was feeling pretty good.  I did manage to get some actual work done.  I’m still flying high over the gig I did on Friday night… I left work, and was doing my usual boring drive from Wisconsin Dells down the strip and along to highway A (A is for Autobahn)…   Minding my own business and singing along to some great blues music on the radio…

I glanced in my rear-view and I noticed some lady in a white Toyota was just inches from my back bumper.  WOAH!!!!  (How could I tell she was a woman?  I could see her face…. She was so close, I could almost see the color of her eyes). 

As I turned off from Broadway and onto highway A, she stuck to me like glue.  I thought for sure she was going to pass me as soon as she got the chance, yet… she kept on my bumper.  The speed limit for that little stretch is 45, so I got myself up to speed as soon as I could… yet, she continued just inches from me. 

When I got to the passing zone, I slowed way-way down…  25 mph to allow her to pass.  She did not.  She did back off at that point and I thought… okay, well maybe she just forgot about the speed zone here.  Okay, no harm, no fowl.  But, once I resumed normal speed, she was once again on my bumper.  At this point, I started to get worried.  What the hell is going on?

Not to be a jerk, but I’ve seen this behavior before from some of the people that live in the condo’s section of bunker hill and Hillman roads…  for some reason, some of the folks that live there seem to be in an awful hurry…  safety be damned.  So, I figured she would turn off on Bunker Hill road. 

She did not.. she kept following me, even closer.  I mean, she was nearly touching my back bumper. 

When I got to the top of the hill, just as the speed limit reached 55, I did something I shouldn’t have done…  I gunned the little car.  Got that sucker going at a very high rate of speed… left her in the dust for about 10 seconds. 

She took off after me.  After a mile, a backed down to a reasonable speed.. and there she was on my back bumper again.  I looked in my rear view mirror and saw her take out her cell phone and was taking pictures of my car. 

At this point, I turned on my right blinker and braked hard to the right to get out of her way. 

She passed me, going at least 80 mph! 

Wholly gosh!  I realize the world is angry right now…  But, does it really have to be like this?  Just because you’re a woman, does not give you a right to be an asshole, any more than a man does. 

Nope. 

I’m sorry.  You’ve got it all wrong.  I do not have to respect the 45^th President, nor am I required to watch the inauguration.  Nor is it requisite for me for the “good of the country” to capitulate ethical standards which I believe in my heart to be true.  The greatest thing about this nation, is I do not have to respect the flag, nor stand for the national anthem.  I do not have to respect authority when it is wrong or even hold reverence to our veterans. 

I do those things only because I desire to, only because I believe those things to be true.  I respect veterans because my father fought in WWII, and I am in awe of people that are willing to put themselves in harm’s way to protect the rest of us.  I respect the police, because I have worked with these good men who really do protect and serve.  I love the flag for the freedom it represents. I stand for the national anthem, because I love the song.

Not because you say I must. 

So go ahead, build those walls.  I will be one of those that will help tear it down.  Make a law against burning the flag.  Sadly, I be one of the first ones to do so.  Try and mass-deport those “undesirables,” I will be standing in your way.  

So, here’s the thing about politics.  You don’t go around making any changes in people by calling them “dicks”… because… well, chances are they are dicks.  They’ve been dicks a long time, and much better at it than you will ever be.  You’re not a dick and they are.  And just calling them that isn’t going to change anything.

 

You have to befriend them…  cavort with them.  Make them your allies… get close to them.  Gain their trust.  Go underground, and learn their ways.  Without selling yourself out, agree with points that you can agree on.  On things you do not, don’t say anything. 

The old idiom is true: If you have nothing good to say, don’t say anything.

Then… stab them in the heart, with a pick-axe or shank…