Now that I’ve had a chance to calm down and think….

Okay… I’ve taken time to calm down.    Now that the emotions have subsided (or fear if you must know), I can look at my neighbor Bill and make a more levelheaded assessment of the situation.    Last night I made two lists.    The first list contains items that I know to be true and factual.    The second list is based more on assumption, conjecture and fear.    Together they present my situation as best as I can tell it.

List 1 (known facts):
1.  A dog and cat have both disappeared in the neighborhood.
2.  Bill has become obsessed with restoring the woodwork in his house.
3.  I’ve personally seen Bill working on the trim at all hours of the night.
4.  I saw a large garbage bag, weighted at the bottom by a large, irregular lump, inside Bill’s privacy fence.
5.  Bill said that his own dog King ran off.
6.  Bill lied about there not being a garbage bag in his backyard.
7.  Bill made a beefy door comprised of 2x8s for the old coal room in his basement and keeps it pad-locked.
8.   Last time I went over to his house, Bill made it very clear he didn’t want me poking around in his basement.
9.  Bill looks to be suffering from malnutrition and fatigue – as evidenced by the shallow hollowness of his cheeks and the dark bags under his eyes.

List 2 (fears and conjecture):
1.  I think Bill killed the neighbor’s dog and cat.
2.  I think there’s something about the woodwork in Bill’s house that has taken control of him.
3.  I think King was in the garbage bag that I saw through the fence around Bill’s backyard.
4.  Based on the recent swelling along the side of her face, I think Bill has been beating his wife Rena.
5.  I think the missing dogs and cat have something to do with the woodwork he’s restoring.
6.  I think the answer to everything can be found in the coal room he keeps locked in his basement.
7.  I think Bill is capable of killing more than just dogs and cats….

That’s it – everything I could think of.   Please let me know immediately if you read my previous posts and find something that I’ve overlooked.    I think I’m going to keep an eye on their house… and if Bill leaves – I’m going over there and I’m not coming back until I find something.    I keep picturing the padlock on the door he made for the old coal room.   I’ve got to get in there and have done with all this before my imagination gets the better of me.

Until next time, take a lesson that has taught me well.     A stiff shot of whiskey can make a brave man out of the most timid among us.   J/W

Idiot Sighting… #2

Here's a few more goodies from an unknown author on the information superhighway:

Idiot Sighting In Food Service:

My daughter went to a local Taco Bell and ordered a taco.  She asked the
person behind the counter for "minimal lettuce".  He said he was sorry,
but they only had iceberg lettuce.
From Kansas City , MO

Idiot Sighting:

I was at the airport, checking in at the gate when an airport employee
asked, "Has anyone put anything in your baggage without your knowledge?"
To which I replied, "If it was without my knowledge, how would I know?"
 He smiled knowingly and nodded, "That's why we ask".
Happened in Birmingham , AL

Idiot Sighting:

The stoplight on the corner buzzes when it is safe to cross the street.
I was crossing with an intellectually challenged coworker of mine.  She
asked if I knew what the buzzer was for and I explained that it signals
blind people when the light is red.
Appalled, she responded, "Why on earth are blind people doing driving?"
She was a probation officer in Wichita , KS

Until next time, speak slowly and loudly!   J/W

Song fun… Meatloaf ‘Paradise By the Dashboard Light’

Okay… here it is.    I know you want to read about it so don’t even pretend that you’re not interested.   I mean deep down everyone’s a little dirty.    And you’re no different than anyone else.   We all want to know.    After all, we all have a story to tell about our first time… this is mine.

I was barely seventeen.    She was the most popular girl in my class.    We’d gone to a few movies, done the pizza deal and been pretty liberal with our nightly kiss at her front door, but hadn’t gone past first base.    That changed on a relatively cool summer night.   One that I’ll never forget – no matter how badly I want to.

We were parked in my ’74 Barracuda along the water’s edge of Lake Jacomo just outside Lee’s Summit, Missouri, listening to the end of a Royals baseball game when things finally started to heat up.    We started kissing under the glow of the dashboard light and before I knew it – an insatiable desire came over me.    I wanted to go all the way that night.   We may have only been seventeen, but that night was the night.   

I faintly heard the announcer on the radio call out that is was the bottom of the ninth in a scoreless game with two down and nobody on as George Brett stepped to the plate.    My heart picked up as I sucked on her lip and unbuttoned the front of her blouse.    Brett hit a line shot up the middle as I undid my belt.    I went in for a taste of her tongue as Brett rounded first.    The center fielder bobbled the ball and as Brett slid face-first into second, I slid my hand inside her blouse and under her bra.    I started to swell at the touch of her skin as the ump called Brett save at second.    I couldn’t control myself much longer.    I had to have her.

The next batter stepped up to the plate as I looked into her eyes and slid my hand between her thighs.    “I’ve got to have you,” I whispered on a breath so hot that it steamed up the window.    There’s the pitch… and Brett took off to steal third.     She reached down and slid her hand over the back of mine.     Brett’s safe!   

I started to unsnap her shorts and she stopped me as the pitcher glanced over at Brett’s lead off third.    I leaned in and kissed her lips.   “I’ve got to have you…   we’re going to go all the way… tonight’s the night.”    The pitcher winds up and throws.   It’s a bunt down the third base line – a suicide squeeze.     “It’s going to be close…”   

I went to undue her shorts again and she grabbed my hand.   “Stop right there!    I gotta know right now.    Before we go any further… do you love me?    Will you love me forever?     Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?     Will you take me away and make me your wife?”

I panted as I stared at the sweat glistening on her thigh under the glow of the dashboard light.   I swallowed as I looked up into her eyes.   “I don’t know… let me sleep on it.”

“I gotta know right now.    Will you make me your wife?  Will you love me forever?”

I was about to explode.   I couldn’t take it any longer.    I ripped open my jeans and cried out, “If that’s what it takes I’ll make you my wife!”

“Swear it,” she said as she slid off her shorts.

“On my mother’s grave.    I swear that I’ll love you till the end of time.”

That was the night.    And it’s never been that good again.   Now I’m stuck, praying for the end of time.   See when passion leaves, the only paradise left is that which you can find with a fork and a dried out Meatloaf, eating alone under the glow of the dashboard light.

Click on the image below to order the CD ‘Bat Out of Hell’ by Meat Loaf, which includes the great ‘Paradise By the Dashboard Light’ from Amazon.com

Until next time, remember this… emotions and excitement are great until they turn around and bite you in the ass.   If you like this, check out my other 'Song Fun' posts.   J/W

Idiot Sighting… #1

I found these in a "pass-along" email and thought that you might enjoy... 

 Idiot Sighting:

We had to have the garage door repaired.  The Sears technician told us
that one of our problems was that we did not have a "large" enough motor
on the opener.
I thought for a minute, and said that we had the largest one Sears made
at that time, a 1/2 horsepower.
He shook his head and said, "Lady, you need a 1/4 horsepower".  I
responded that 1/2 was larger than 1/4.  He said, "NO, it's not.  Four
is larger than two."
We have not used Sears repair since.

Idiot Sighting:
My daughter and I went through the McDonald's take-out window and I gave
the clerk a $5 bill.  Our total was $4.25, so I also handed her a
quarter.  She said, "You gave me too much money".  I said, "Yes I know,
but this way you can just give me a dollar bill back.  She sighed and
went to get the manager who asked me to repeat my request.  I did, and
he handed me back the quarter, and said, "We're sorry but they could not
do that kind of thing".  The clerk then proceeded to give me back $1 and
75 cents in change. 

Do not confuse the clerks at McD's.

Idiot Sighting:

I live in a semi rural area.  We recently had a new neighbor call the
local township administrative office to request the removal of the DEER
CROSSING sign on our road. 

The reason: "Too many deer are being hit by cars out here!  I don't
think this is a good place for them to be crossing anymore". 
From Kingman , KS

Until next time, remember we all experience brain-farts every once in a while.   J/W

The last of my pet peeves….

Most of you probably feel that I’ve just about worn out this topic.    With that said, here’s the fifth and last of my top five pet peeves.

It seems that every morning I experience at least one car driving with its brights on.    Now I know that there have been advances in headlight technology, and I know that sometimes you’ll see a car with a “wandering eye” where one headlight has been knocked off kilter and is aimed directly at on-coming traffic.    Other times people may forget that they have their brights on.    But still there remain clear cases where some idiots simply don’t care that they’re blinding on-coming cars, and if you flash them (just in case they forgot that their brights were on) they not only leave their brights on, but also hit their driving lights as well.    This “beef” is focused directly on them.

I’m going to take the high road here and assume these “people” aren’t malevolent or overly self-involved.   I’m going to assume that they’re just stupid.    I’m going to assume that if I can teach my dog not to eat his own shit, that these idiots can eventually learn that people who flash their brights at them, are doing so to indicate that the on-coming glare of a high-beam aimed directly at their face is making it hard for them to see the road.    Hopefully over time, these “people” will evolve into intelligent human beings who can comprehend the intent of such non-verbal communication.    Hopefully over time, they’ll learn to respond by dimming down to their low beams.   Or if by chance they’re already on low beams, my hope is that they’ll understand that they may have their headlights aimed too high and get them adjusted at a local shop.

And for god’s sake, if you’re stopped in front of a house on a dark street to pick someone up, you should only have your parking lights on, or worst case - your low beams.    Rest assured that if you have your high beams on, any on-coming traffic won’t be able to see you open the door to get out or see your friend run across the street to get in.

It’s not just a matter of courtesy; it’s a matter of safety.    Until next time, don’t go toward the light.  J/W

Pet-peeve number 4….

Drum roll please.   It’s time to unveil number 4 on my top five list of pet peeves.    Okay, so if you’ve been following my blog there’s no real excitement here – you already know what I’m going to talk about.    Or do you?    To keep things interesting I’m going to disclose number 4 in an ingenious code of my own design.    See if you can figure out what I’m talking about before you get to the end.   Of course if you want to cheat – you can always jump back to my post dated 2/6/08 and see who’s number 4 on my list.   But then where’s the fun in that.

1. It’s got to be the number one reason why corporate America isn’t very productive.

2. It’s proof positive that presentation is the only thing rewarded on the job – substance can be thrown out the window.

3. Everyone except those who love to hear their own voice hate these.

4. It’s the greatest source of self-censorship with regards to thinking outside the box.

5. It can be either a mandated venue to reinforce the reality that only one person’s opinion counts, or it can be an excuse for no one to make a decision (you take your pick and yes, they are mutually exclusive).

6. It’s the perfect opportunity for a little daydreaming.

7. It’s a formal custom that has long-since outlived its usefulness.

8. It’s the only thing that management can claim as a reason to keep their job.

I’m sure you could add volumes yourself, but then we wouldn’t be much better than what we despise.    Of course I’m talking about meetings.    Ever notice how the most unproductive person you’ve ever worked with seems to schedule meetings all day long?    Me – I don’t need a meeting to diddle around and waste time.    That’s why I have my blog.

Until next time, somebody please… board up the Board Room.   J/W

He knows….

I think I’m beginning to understand what it must be like to drown in quicksand.    Remember I told you that I was going to snoop around Bill’s over the weekend – well let me tell you that I can feel it grabbing me around the knees and yanking me down fast.   I never should have gotten involved.    Now that I am, I don’t see a way out.    I can’t call the police.    I don’t have any evidence.    And if Bill found out that I called them… well that’s not a chance I’m willing to take.    I could use a little help here.    What should I do!

I knocked on Bill and Rena’s door about 3:00 Saturday.     I don’t consider myself a coward, but when Rena answered the door my voice broke like that of an adolescent child.   The entire left side of her face was puffed out.     I’m sure her cheek was black and blue, but to be honest I’m not sure.    It was like I couldn’t pull my focus from the blood-red spider web of broken arteries in her left eye.    Neither of us said a word for a good half minute.     We simply stood there shivering, with the storm door open between us.    Then she dropped her head and I walked inside.     I know I should have said something.      I should have asked her if Bill did that to her.      Even now, I don’t know why I didn’t.

I followed Rena to the basement stairs.    She knocked once and then without raising her head, she softly said that Bill would be right up.     Before I could say anything, she turned and walked away.     As I watched her round the corner into the kitchen, my mouth dried up to the point that I had to clear my throat to swallow.    Right then and there I knew it was a mistake to be in that house.     I wanted to leave, but every time the thought started to take hold I saw the bruise and swelling on Rena’s face.    I couldn’t just leave. 

Thirty seconds went by before I tried the handle.    It jiggled but that was it.  The basement door was locked from the inside.    My attempt though was enough to get Bill’s attention.    Before I even let go of the knob, I heard a sudden commotion echo up from the dirt and brick floor of the basement.     I heard wood crash to the floor and cans tip over.     But what brought my shoulders up to my ears was Bill’s cursing.      It wasn’t so much the words as the vehement hatred in his voice.     By the time I heard the weight of his foot hit the bottom step and I wanted to run.     I was up to my armpits.     Every pronounced creak of the stringers under the wooden steps announced Bill’s closing.    Then the knob suddenly shot out of my hand as Bill yanked the door open and yelled, “What god damn-it!”

As I said, I don’t consider myself a coward, but I have to tell you that somehow my back ended up against the wall on the other side of the hallway.    Bill stared at me for a second and for a brief instant I could see it in his eyes.    He wanted to hit me the way he had hit Rena.     I might have raised my hand in a defensive position – I’m not sure.     But in any case, after a few seconds, his chest stopped heaving and he dropped his shoulders.     As he did, so too did I.    Now if you remember, I told you that Bill wasn’t looking too good.    He was bone-showing thin and if you used the dark rings under his eyes as any indicator of sleep – then Bill hadn’t been to sleep in over a week.

After I managed to swallow, words kind of poured from my mouth without any control from me.    I blurted out that I hadn’t seen King (their dog) lately.     Bill pulled the basement door shut behind him and stepped up nose-to-nose with me.     He locked eyes on me and said that King ran off a couple of weeks ago.     I waited for him to go on about how they looked for him.     But Bill didn’t say another word.    He simply stared at me.     Again my mouth fired without any sense of aim.     I blurted out that I was going to make a run to the dump and that if he had any trash that needed….    He stopped me before I could finish with a cold, frank statement of fact that he didn’t have any trash.    I babbled that I thought I saw some in his back yard.    He drew to within inches of my face and said that I was mistaken.

Have you ever been so scared that your brain turns off and you do something that is so incredibly stupid that you doubt your sanity while you’re doing it?     Well that’s exactly what happened next.    I stepped around Bill and grabbed the knob to the basement door as I spit out, “What are you working on?”

Bill grabbed my wrist and yanked my hand off the knob with the ferocity of a man half his age.    Before he had a chance to lock eyes on me again – I made for the front door.    I gasped over my shoulder as I hurried away that I had to get to the dump before they closed.    I didn’t look back.

I was shaking so bad when I got home that it took 3 shots of whiskey to take the edge off.    I paced around the kitchen for a good ten minutes after that.     Was I wrong in not calling the cops?     What in the hell was Bill working on in the basement.     When I finally stopped pacing, I found myself staring out the back window.     I’m in to my neck.    Bill knows that I don’t believe him – that was the sole thought showing in the cement features of his face.

Until next time – keep me in your thoughts.   J/W

I’ve got to tell somebody….

As you can probably guess – I haven’t seen my neighbors since my wife and I took Rena out to dinner in late January.     I’m not even sure if Bill has been going in to work.    And since their lights have been on way past midnight every night, I’d have to guess that Bill’s obsession with the woodwork in their house has only gotten worse.    But that’s neither here nor there – what I wanted to tell you about today was something I found.    Actually want has nothing to do with it – I need to tell you.    I need to tell somebody.

Remember I told you about the cat that went missing right after New Years.    Several of us looked around for it but never found it.     Well last night the same thing happened to a boy’s dog from down the street.     The dog’s name is Chester and he’s a 7-year-old black Lab.    A dog that big is kind of hard to miss so once my wife and I joined in the search I thought we’d find him in no time.   

Let me pause here and think about this before I type it down.    I don’t want any of you to think I’m crazy.    But I can’t shake this feeling that I know what happened to Chester.    Okay… maybe my imagination is running wild and I’m fearing the worst about my neighbor Bill, but when I started searching the alley behind our house – I saw something.    Or at least I think I saw something.     I was searching the alley behind Bill’s place when I caught a glimpse of something through the slats of their privacy fence.     I pushed through the waist-high weeds next to the fence and tried to look over, but couldn’t get high enough even by standing on my toes.     So I was limited to the small gap between the boards that couldn’t have wider than a quarter of an inch.     I pressed my face up against the old, rough treated wood and saw one of those big lawn trash bags sitting behind some brush in Bill’s backyard.      It was no more than 10 or 11 feet from me.      Now I’m sure of one thing – that bag wasn’t full of leaves or trash.    You could tell by the way the weight had settled in it.    You could also tell by the sharp bulges from where something was pushing against the bag from the inside.      I put my nose to the air but couldn’t smell anything.     But I was sure that I knew what was inside that bag.    Sure enough that it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand as I stepped away from the fence.      Then I got to thinking about Bill’s German Sheppard.    Our dogs normally run up and down the fence between our backyards and bark at each other – but I haven’t heard King in probably a week or better.   

The neighborhood search ended last night without any sign of Chester.    My plan was to go over to Bill’s tonight and ask him about it.    But then this morning after I backed out of the garage into the alley, I got out and walked back over to the fence.    The bag was gone.

I don’t want to think that my neighbor had anything to do with Chester (or the cat for that matter), but the feeling continues to gnaw away at me.    It’s probably just me being paranoid.    I can’t believe I’m going to say this…. but I’ll find out this weekend.     I’m going to go over to Bill’s and snoop around.   

Until next time… I don’t know…. I can’t really put my thoughts together.    I have nothing clever to say today.  J/W

Pet Peeve #3…..

I meant to post this a few days back, but then I saw a couple of good movies and had to write reviews on them.    Then yesterday I got to thinking about my childhood and how I could fabricate it into the song ‘The Night Chicago Died’.    I hope you understand why I’m a little late in carrying through on my promise….

Wake up people!    Why would you let me off that easy?    Okay, I understand that my posts aren’t life changing.    In fact a lot of you probably don’t care what I write about.    So I guess I can understand your empathy of my position.     After all my tardiness hasn’t actually hurt anyone or cost anyone any money.

As a nation, we have a history of being very forgiving of those who have wronged us.    Another nation goes to war with us – we spend our blood to defeat them and then our money to rebuild them.      A man robs 2 banks (no violence extended) and then uses the defense that it was the only way to put food on his table – so we let him off with a slap on the wrist and 3 years probation (this is factual).  

We’re also a nation that’s big on taking the high road when it comes to helping those who refuse to help themselves.     A hurricane devastates a coastal region and our government writes blank checks to those in “need”.     Instead of turning to family, savings or sweat to help themselves – checks are cashed and government sponsored “temporary” lodging abused.     But still we feel that our efforts are not good enough – so we complain that the government didn’t act fast enough.     It saddens me to think about what some people expect out of the government when those same people don’t want to pay taxes to support the government.    Wasn’t there some old saying about there’s no free ride….

See my complaint here is our growing national acceptance for people who refuse to take responsibility for their own life.     We should help those in need.     But at the same time, those in need should help themselves.      I saw a show the other night about a church leader who wanted to provide a home for his family (wife and 4 or 5 children).     His income rested with the contributions of church patronage, while his wife brought home a meager paycheck from teaching school part time.     They wanted to move out of this rattrap house they were renting and into a 4-5 bedroom, 2-½ bath brand spanking new house.     Only problem was their credit rating wouldn’t qualify them.     When they heard the news their expression was one of shock and denial.    How could that be!     They wanted a real home even though they had absolutely zilch for a down payment.     (Personally I had to wonder why they had so many kids if they couldn’t afford them – but I know some people feel that it’s their God given right to pump out as many pups as they can)      So do they wait and save money for a down payment?     Of course not – that wouldn’t be the American way.     Instead they turn to the church patronage and get them to fork over enough cash for the down payment.    To be honest – I don’t know how they could look at themselves in the mirror.

But as I said, we’re a nation hell-bent on helping the greedy needy – especially those who won’t help themselves.    Until next time, if you find yourself in need, first look to what you can do to right the situation yourself before you stick your hand out.   J/W

A night I’ll never forget….

I was going to talk about my next pet peeve today - about how people no longer feel the need to take responsibility for their lives – but as I started to put my thoughts in order my mind wondered back to my childhood.    My dad had a huge impact on my life.    He’s the primary reason that I feel people should be held accountable.   You see my dad was a cop.

Of all the times I waited up with my mom for him to come home, one time stands out above all the rest.    It was my first taste of fear – fear shared by my mother that my dad wouldn’t come home that night.

I grew up in Chicago during the time that mobs and gangs still had a stranglehold on the city.    I remember sitting at the kitchen table with my mom one hot summer night and watching the clock on the wall.    Neither of us spoke, we simply sat in a somber silence as we listened to the news coverage on the radio.    My dad and a bunch of other cops had been called out to the old east side where the battle had been raging for over three hours.    That’s when I heard it.    A report came over the airwaves that about a hundred cops were dead!     I was too young to really understand what that meant to my mom and me, but when she started to cry – I couldn’t help but cry myself.

Unbelievable reports continued to come across the radio.   Witnesses gave first hand accounts that kept my mother crying until the last of the hoodlum gang had surrendered up or died.    But the worst part of it all was the wait.     Not knowing if my dad was dead or alive.

That night was also one of the happiest memories of my childhood.     You see just as we started to lose hope, my daddy stepped inside.    He kissed my mothers face and brushed her tears away.    He grabbed me in his arms and threw me up in the air.

That’s what taking responsibility is all about.    Willing to make the sacrifice in order to do the right thing.    And by the way, they talk about it still, the night that the town of Chicago died.

Click on the image below to order the CD ‘And Other Bits of Material’ by Paper Lace, which includes the great ‘The Night Chicago Died’ from Amazon.com

Until next time, remember that excuses and putting yourself before others is the easy way out – I have faith that you’re stronger than that.   J/W