Steal this blog post! I did.

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Ok, so I only kind of stole it.  I mean, it’s HALF mine.

Since I started doing this blogging thing, I have scoured I have no friggin’ idea how many blogs looking to others for ideas and techniques and tips and really, a whole hell of a lot of entertainment.  I have read posts that caused me to laugh until I cried and I’ve read others that just damn near made me cry.  There is SO much good material out there that I’m a bit overwhelmed as to how I’ll ever manage to make my tiny little glimmer of light shine enough to even think about standing out in this crowd of incredibly intelligent, incredibly funny and incredibly touching people. Read the rest . . .

You can take your “politically correct” and shove it up your ass

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Top 20 Tuesday can suck it this week.  I got something on my mind . . . Let me be straight with you folks (there’s a joke in there, you’ll see in a minute), I am about as into politics as a teenager is into homework.  I could really give a shit less.  Politicians care only about themselves, they all lie and not a single one of them trusts even each other.  Every single time, no exceptions, period. You want to know when I’m going to trust a politician?  When he walks up to the podium in cargo shorts, a T-shirt and flip-flops, flips up the devil horns and exclaims “Duuuuuuuuuudes!  I would like to announce my candidacy for President of the YEEEEWWWnited States!   . . . and I’m am SOOO fucked up right now – HAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” That, I’m votin’ for.  Because at least he’s honest.  Sure, he also has no idea what he’s doing but that obviously was not a prerequisite for his predecessors. So, what is my non-political ass doing writing about politics then?  Mostly just because I’m annoyed.  You know, I try to sit down and read the paper in the morning with my breakfast.  There’s nothing like an advice columnist with her head up her ass or the heartwarming story of the guy in Wilkes County that shot and killed a guy that broke into his house with a machete at 4 in the morning, but I’m not getting that. Read the rest . . .

Dysfunction is relative, and probably one of my relatives: Part III, Expense reporting a postage stamp

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(If you’re just coming by for the first time, please be sure to check out Part I and Part II!  Ya know what, screw that!  Check out the whole damn blog!)

If you ever want to know where to get the cheapest possible deal on pretty much anything, let me set you up with my father.  If you can find it cheap on eBay, he can find it cheaper some-freakin-where.  You will notice that I said cheapest possible deal, not best possible deal.  For all the engineering type brains he did get, he is tremendously short-sighted when it comes to purchasing things.  Basically what that means is that rather than pay $100 for something that will last him a year, he’ll instead pay $10 for a cheaper version that will only last a month.  He sees $10 vs $100 rather than $100 per year vs $120 per year.  That is only the beginning. Read the rest . . .

Dysfunction is relative, and probably one of my relatives: Part II Engineering Stupid

  

Do the clicky thing here if you missed Part I yesterday . . .

I mentioned in yesterday’s post that my father is an electrical engineer.  This makes him very, very smart.  When it comes to electrical engineering.  He is retired from IBM and did all kinds of really important electrical engineering stuff while he was there.  He can make electronical stuff work as long as it is a power supply because that is what he built.  He made good money doing power supply electrical engineering electronical stuff.

It ends there. Read the rest . . .

Dysfunction is relative, and probably one of my relatives: Part I

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I spent some time with my father this afternoon.  I have not intentionally killed anyone since.  (Note the word “intentionally”)  Given that I carry the genetic code that he gave me 42 years ago, it is these times that I sit and think about my interaction with other people and hope, for all that is good and Holy, that I have improved on the code.  I’m hoping for the best with the whole “Nature vs Nurture” thing since I was born and raised in the good old US of A, because my father was born in Nuremberg, Germany (also spelled Nürnberg) in 1940.  If any of you history buffs out there are paying attention, you already figured out that this was probably not the ideal child rearing environment what with all those Nazi’s moving in and lowering the property value. Read the rest . . .