A Forest Without Trees.com

"Can't see the forest through the trees" is one of those phases that applies so eloquently to the implications of preponderances that happenstance allows.  Let that soak in a little bit and then consider that particular forest you've been in lately.  I call it the "big picture".  We've all seen it.  We get so involved with a particular problem that we "can't see the forest through the trees."   I consider life such a forest.  And I've had a few "trees" obscure my sight.  Even my work with endangered elephants in Illinois has suffered due to the overwhelming sensation of fighting the government on acquiring certain permits.  But I digress ... The whole problem with problems is how much of a problem they are at times.  We suffer minute problems such as finding our car keys (this is not something I suffer from because I'm pretty anal when it comes to remembering where they are) to finding our car in a large parking lot.  We all suffer problems.  The problems seem overwhelming at times but it is a matter of perspective, isn't it?  Most problems do not enter into the "life or death" category and many can be fixed in short order.  But it's the bump that we suffer that jars our brains and we just want a break from it all.  Lately, upon certain viewing of certain websites, I've noticed a troubling trend of the English language - it's changing dramatically.  I believe the old English we can read in such classics as Shakespeare and The King's James Bible is slightly different than the English we currently hold as the norm in our present day.  What I'm talking about is a (and excuse my French here) bastardization of our beloved language found in spelling and punctuation evident in such notable communications such as twitter and Facebook and texting, (oh my).  Have you ever spent five minutes re-reading a comment or a post on someone's account and still scratched your head because you honestly couldn't read it?   This isn't "life or death" unless you consider yourself the English language. And if you could ask the English language how if feels it's doing I believe you would find it, in some cases, lying on its death bed asking "Oh, Hast Thou suffered such travesty over thine inequity via facebook?".  But we can't really ask a language how it's doing but we see a reflection of it in our daily lives, don't we?  It's the lazy approach we've taken with all the abbreviations and shortened terms we have integrated to make our communications "faster?".  Yes, I speaketh of thou L.O.L's and ye fine LMAO's.  We've created a new language from the old English, which, by the way, I suffered to learn back in school.  Someone's tax dollars paid for a school and school teachers to teach young Rueuhy to speak and write in an acceptable manner to allow others to understand verbal and written communications from Rueuhy.  So, in the forest of communication, the trees are being chopped down mercilessly and I am having a tough time tripping over the clippings.  What used to be a few misspellings and some lack of correct punctuation has become a cornucopia of mistakes and alterations that only a handful of teenagers truly understand.  I find myself mouthing out the possibilities and then I throw my phone in disgust and yell, "Oh, they cursed wretch with such vile cruelty and malice."  Or I yell, "Crap!  What are they saying!!!???"  I just received a text, literally within the past minute, that reads "ltr wat we do in tx".  How do you defend your honor with such an insult?  Or was it a compliment?  Or is the author involved in some kind of secret mission that only allows 5 second texts compared to 10 second texts?  I just hope there isn't any torture involved on her end because I really do think my sister has lost the ability to write full words.  And now I'm gonna take a moment of silence and ponder how a language we spend years learning through 12 years of public education has suffered a slow and embarrassing death @twitter.facebook/edu.  My name is Rueuhyth and I approve this bloggeth.(!!!)

Have You Driven A Fjord Lately?

Legend tells us of a mighty beast from the mountains of Norway,  As big as a horse because, well, it's a horse.  This creature has adapted to farming and relaxes in mountains of straw.  The breed is called Fjord horse.  Interesting, no?  If you think I'm lying (and statistically 10% always think I'm lying) go ahead and google fjord horse.  You'll see links to different fjord breeders and youtube videos of fjord horses for sale.  But I digress ... What I really want to talk about is our little addiction problem.  Notice I used the term "our". Oh, I can see you squirming a little bit in that nervous way you get when someone's called you out on some simple little vice like candy bars or Vicodin.  "Rueuhy, I'm not addicted to the internet and who are you to judge me?"  That's what you're thinking isn't it? Some blogger who lives in an isolated ward in some psychiatric hospital just called you addicted to the internet and you can't stand it. In fact, I bet you already forgot to google fjord horses already, haven't you?  Because society labels addiction as a "weakness" - the inability to overcome a practice which overrides common sense for the victim in it's hold on the addicted.  "But I can quit anytime!" you yell at me in that weak voice that feels the imminent twinge of defeat coming on rapidly.  You're addicted and it's only becoming worse, isn't it?  You used to look up for longer periods of time and converse with your family. But now, if your phone has any battery left, you're on facebook or twitter or playing that game that you just played twenty minutes ago.  In fact, you will use more time and energy to find your charger if your phone is almost dead than you would to do that cleaning you "just didn't have time for this year".  So what's the solution?  How do we break the chains of servitude we suffer under in the name of technology.  Well, it's simple.  Hit the off button for starters.  (Please finish reading this first or you won't know what to do next.) Close that laptop.  Turn your phone off.  Find that list you wrote down several years ago of the things you should have accomplished already.  Go buy some cheap whiskey and go visit that friend that just got out on parole.  Do something.  Because all it takes is something like a video about cats and you'll be on here for another half hour.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sP4NMoJcFd4  I tried to warn you but you know you're gonna click that link.  Oh well. My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Elementary, My Dear Watson, Is Just The Beginnng

First of all, I would like to apologize at the beginning of this post because it may appear dry.  I tried adding water and everything but all that did was ruin the laptop.  The reason I say dry is the topic for today - education.  Go ahead, moan a little.  Get it out of your system.  Speaking of systems, something has to be done with the education system in this country.  "What?!!!", you might say.  Yes, it's been proven that our education system is broken and needs to be fixed.  "Show us your proof, Mr. Rueuhy!!" is the collective scream arising from teacher's unions.  Well, the proof is pretty evident.  Look at how many children start kindergarten and how many graduate.  "Well, there's always going to be fallout in any war, Mr. Rueuhy, and the war is one that we've fought since the Boston Latin School opened in 1635.  Some kids just can't be taught."  "Whoa!  Wait a minute, are you going to actually argue with the Rueuhy and state your case is based on the principle that some kids just can't learn so there will be a substantial amount who will fail?" said me (Mr. Rueuhy) in that uppity voice I get right after my second cup of coffee.  "Yes, Mr. Uppity, there are kids that just can't learn and don't even try.  We continually try to teach them but it's obvious that they can't be taught."  So, the argument boils down to the children.  Children, some at least, are too stupid to learn?  That's really what our education system says.  So, I ask, "What about the children?"  For the past few months, maybe even years, I've always had this nagging sensation in the left rear quadrant of my brain - it just keeps bugging me.  If our money can't buy an education system that works, why not spend it on feeding the poor creatures that can't be taught rather than trying to use a failing model that clearly doesn't work?  Yes, that's right.  I propose the solution is to feed and house them rather than bother with an education.  On the first day of school the parents can sign a waiver to all future entitlements such as food stamps and welfare for the new student if the new student doesn't care enough to graduate with a high school diploma.  This way, there is an incentive for the child to learn.  Imagine that first day the young adult shows up at the state agency to enroll themselves in the welfare system and Betty Thomas says, "I'm sorry. You're not even eligible 'cause your parents signed a paper twelve years ago."   Obviously this is a stupid idea and one that would quickly die before it was even brought up for discussion in the House of Representationatives.  No, the solution is even more radical and daring.  Why not figure out how each child learns and tailor an education system around them rather than force feed an education on a child in a way that they can't learn.  (You might have to read that last sentence twice to get what I'm saying.)  Each child is born as an individual.  We do not actually have a testing procedure in place that actually figures out how a child learns, we just force feed the information to each child and then fail them accordingly.  Imagine this, in the first few years of a child's life we figure out how they learn and fine tune each education program to the individual rather than force every child to try to learn in a way that he or she can't learn.  There would be some major revisions to our present public school system but maybe there would be a 95% success rate rather than 50% or whatever the current rate is considered.  If a child learns through visual application such as videos than use videos.  If a child learns through an audio format than teach them that way.  If a child needs a mixture than use a 75% visual and 25% audio.  If a child can only learn through physical application than teach them that way.  The old format of a teacher standing in front of a class room and droning on for an hour is just not cutting it.  If a program is set up for each child, based on testing that child on how he/she processes information rather than just force feeding the same rigid techniques, perhaps every child would feel like they could succeed rather than school being a failing proposition after 1st grade.  Some children overcome the hindrances the present system throws at them and do succeed with the status quot.  Many fall through the cracks and become statistics.  I've met a few high school failures who are intelligent and can learn but found out they were worthless because they failed at performing successfully in the public education system.  Am I the only one that sees a problem with the "how" and the amount of money that gets pumped into a failing system?  Should we start questioning a program of rigid, and often times inflexible procedure, and say "It's just not working and we need a different approach?" or do we keep throwing more money at a system that doesn't work for a majority of students.  I see it as putting gas in a car with a seized up engine.  It just doesn't make sense.  We can continue to test the children to see how well they are failing or we could test them to see how they actually learn and create an atmosphere of success rather than failure.  My name is Uppity Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Remember When Yelling Shotgun Was For The Front Seat?

So, as is my usual custom, I visited the local paper in print this morning.  Some interesting stuff and some boring stuff.  But then I get to the back page.  Left hand column, top - In a Page One story Wednesday about the shootings at the Washington Navy Yard, the Journal Courier erroneously reported that the gunman, Aaron Alexis, carried an AR-15.  That information was based on federal law enforcement officials who were relying on initial descriptions from the scene and was included in official internal FBI reports summarizing the shooting.  However, additional investigation by law enforcement concluded that Alexis carried a shotgun, took at least one handgun from an officer at the scene, did not have or use an AR-15.  Now, the question arises on the difference between an automatic rifle and a shotgun, right?  They must be pretty similar if someone confuses a shotgun for an AR-15.  I have never personally seen an AR-15 but I'm pretty sure most people have seen automatic rifles in movies and on tv, correct? And most, I believe, have seen a shotgun or two in those formats as well.  So, just to clarify - a shotgun looks like this:

And an AR-15 looks like this:

Now, to the untrained eye, a gun could look like a gun.  They each have a barrel and a shoulder rest.  They each have a trigger.  And there are other similarities.  Now, in another area of all that is, I would like to reflect on horses and dogs.  Now a horse is a horse, of course, of course, and a dog is a dog.  Both consume food and travel on four legs.  They can run, jump, and mate with other animals of the same species. I won't post pictures because I believe most of you know the difference. Is it possible that a small horse could be confused with a dog?  Possible.  Could a large dog be confused with a horse?  Another possibility. I guess the point I'm trying to make is this - can humans, under pressure and under duress, make a mistake between the two different types of firearms?  Has the media made such a point of the gun debate, that flares up with each new tragedy involving firearms, that people now confuse every firearm with a long barrel as an assault rifle?  That's the question.  And it seems pretty specific to me.  So, either there really was an assault rifle involved and the story is being retold as a cover-up (which I doubt) or someone convinced themselves they saw an assault rifle instead of a shotgun.  At a military installation.  It just doesn't seem like that easy of a mistake to make, even with a crisis situation such as that which took place there.  I have never been involved in a shooting so I cannot, I repeat, cannot place myself as an authority on what a person would, or should experience.  But it does seem like a huge mistake to record, doesn't it?  Senator Dianne Feinstein of California was quick to bring up the debate on assault rifles within a day or two of this tragedy.  So begins the national debate on shotguns.  I guess.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Why Can't We Get A Cat Into Space?

It was all over my blinkfeed.  Persian cat to be shot into space by Iran.  The concept seems simple enough.  Build a rocket.  Fill it with a toilet (for water) and several large bulk bags of Meow Mix. The scientists will have to cut the bags open and then there's the matter of who's gonna clean the litter boxes when the cat splashes down.  Now, for some of you, you're thinking - "Oh, another fantasy story by Rueuhy."  But this one is true.  Iran hopes to send their best nominee for space exploration (sources do not know the name of the actual cat) and chose the feline after extensive testing.  PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) was furious.  "Iran's archaic experiment... is a throwback to the primitive techniques of the 1950s," the animal rights group's spokesman Ben Williamson said.  Not everyone felt the same.  Ben Nelson, the spokesman for Bob Barker at the DJ&T Foundation, had this to say - "If pet owners can't take the time or money to have their pets spayed or neutered, we see this a step in the right direction. Pet populations have to be held to a minimum and we see this as a reliable alternative."  There was a mixed reaction from other foundations and countries as well.  Janice Fellhower, the assistant to the press secretary for Tony Abbott, the newly appointed Prime Minister of Australia, had this to say - "Australia remains a proud and industrious country.  Efforts are underway to launch our own cat into space and we will send an Abyssinian of the finest line of felines as a symbol of the greatness of Australia."  The wife of Kim Jong-un, Ri Sol-ju, at a press conference in Pyongyong, speaking to a reporter, had this to say.  "This move by Iran can be seen for its immaturity and evasiveness on the world scene.  Everyone knows Persian cats hate to travel.  We see this as another declaration of war on North Korea and they just made the list."  Others, in a more friendly and enlightened mood by Iran, found the news to be cute and adorable.  Jim Bob Cyrus, the cousin of Billy Ray Cyrus, overheard Miley Ray Cyrus tell her hairdresser and choreographer the following - "I love kittens.  They're even cuter than I am.  But they can't dance.  They really can't dance at all.  But Persians are really no better than other breeds.  They're just so ... strange."  And finally, at the White House, at the latest press conference on the subject of the White House's lack of press conferences, Jay Carney had this to say -  "The Iranian's ability to launch Persian cats at long range is seen as a threat and we are looking into all aspects of the repercussions such a launch would mean for relations between the United States and Iran.  If they choose to launch Persian cats the United States will reply with a retaliatory launch or our own.  We have notified the United Nations of our position on this threat and we are commencing drone surveillance on all animal shelters within the Iranian borders.  We will not be found asleep at our post on this one.  We will do whatever is required to combat this latest threat from within this region.  We have cats of our own."  No replies were made in connection to the press conference from Iranian officials.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Death Comes Unexpectedly

Funerals.  We don't like to think about them, do we?  Death and all that.  But we have to.  At some point you really have to sit down and ponder your end.  If you're like me you like having a say in the affairs of your life so it only makes sense to try to figure out that last party, don't you think?  Most just casually leave it to their loved ones to figure out, with a referral from us, as to the mode of departure.  "I want to be buried in a casket." says Johnny.  "I want cremation." says Judy.  But what about the rest of it.  Don't you have a song or some poem?  Is it really your funeral if someone else makes all those decisions?  How many times have we seen the final goodbye marked with questions?  "I guess Martha was wrong when she said she wouldn't be caught dead wearing those colors."  We choose the house we live in, the car we drive, even the city we live in but yet we don't want to think about death so many of us make no arrangements beforehand.  "I'm sure my wife will want to make all those decisions for me when she wants nothing more to do than crawl into a ball and lay in bed."  It really doesn't have to be complicated.  A simple checklist made out beforehand and given to a trusted relative would probably suffice.  Do you have a favorite song that everyone hated but meant the world to you?  Make them suffer through it one last time.  Do you want your favorite band to perform?  Is there a color scheme you'd prefer?  Or even a favorite flower you would like your urn to be surrounded by?  Is a cheap casket good enough or do you prefer stainless steel?  I've thought off and on about this for a few years and someday I will sit down and devise a list of what I'd prefer because it just seems odd to leave those details up to strangers in your life.  Now, for me personally, my wife would be the one to make those decisions.  But what of the man or woman who has no spouse or children?  Does the brother or sister make those choices?  Who really, emotionally, should have that responsibility thrust upon them at the worst possible time?  They're grieving and now they have to choose a funeral home and who will say some last words?  For most of us we have no idea when that moment will come.  We have no forewarning.  "Death comes unexpectedly."  (Said the reverend Paul Ford, a.k.a. Karl Malden from the Disney classic Pollyanna)  Some of us, in the most saddest of ways, do know when that time will arrive.  And they probably do have arrangements made beforehand.  But for a lot of us we deny the certainty and convince ourselves we have many years left.  But we don't know - really.  We give out hints in some discarded discussion but we don't really write it out for the future.  Because then it becomes a certainty.  So our demise gets an extension in our mind's probability.  But the truth is, you just don't really know.  So, take a moment, grab a pen and get started on your end.  You could die by the time you finish.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Blatantly Honest

The funniest moments I have seem to be when I'm alone.  Which is really okay but I don't get to share them as they're happening.  For instance, and I'm just being blatantly honest with you, I'm alone at the house right now.  I've actually been sick the past few days and my head felt like it would explode but it didn't, did it?  So, I'm sitting in the bathroom looking at this funny app on my phone.  (Admit it, a high percentage of people look at their phones on the toilet but feel no need to mention that when they return a text or return an email.)  So, after awhile, I remembered where I was and decided it was time to leave my porcelain refuge and I noticed my butt had fallen asleep.  I just wandered if this has happened to anyone else?  It reminded me of that woman who spent years trapped in the bathroom and her boyfriend didn't know what to do so he kept bringing her food and flushing for her.  She was big.  The medics had to remove her with the seat stuck to her bum. That's kinda sad but it makes me wonder if she just had a really good app on her phone and she just lost track of time and just got stuck.  I mean, who's responsible?  Is she?  Is the maker of the phone?  Is the app designer responsible?  Who gets the medical bills?  Are the taxpayers gonna foot the bill?  So, that part of the post is really kinda sad.  But what I thought was funny a few minutes ago was the thought of the different ways to realize someone has left.  We get used to people and the way they leave their mark on our lives and then one day they're gone.  Like, remembering what it feels like to see the chrome in your tub drain because there's no hair covering it up.  Or seeing the good stuff in the fridge because no one has eaten it when they got home from school.  Or finding the seat left up on the toilet just the way you intended to leave it for next time.  It's funny the things people do that you just don't even think about.  But you love them and you'll miss those things.  The marks people leave on your life are some of the greatest gifts we have.  And when you do think of something funny, and you find it so funny you actually snort out loud, you want someone to share it with.  And that's life in a nutshell.  We know we're alive if we need to share those things. Even those who find it their lot in life to be confined in some prison or cage still need to hear someone answer back when they ask "Hello, is anyone out there?".  It's our most basic need.  To know someone will answer.  And we don't need constant companionship all the time but we need to know they'll be back.  The greatest feeling after an argument with someone is to know they'll return.  You might still be angry and you might wish they would never come back but deep down inside you'll always want to hear the car pull in or the phone ring.  Something.  Because that's who we are.  We can go hungry.  We can go thirsty to a point.  We can suffer pain and cruelty.  But we do need to know someone will answer our call in the darkness.  Because the dark is never really as bad when there are two of you.  So, it all boils down to this - it may upset you when you notice certain things that may seem to make life tougher for you at home or at work. They might drive you crazy.  But it'll never be as bad as not having them.  For most of us we might have that occasional thought that life would be better if "they" weren't here.  If we didn't have to fight about certain things or have to ignore those things that others do that get on our nerves so bad.  But, if you can, imagine they are no more.  Imagine that sweetheart not there.  Or that child gone.  And no one to answer "yes" when you yell out "hello?".  Maybe it's not as bad as you think.  Maybe it's the best part of life.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Hiatus

We are experiencing some work-related difficulties in production of the next post of rueuhy.com.  I guess everyone has a bad hare day every once in awhile.  We should see the next post produced in a short time.  We apologize for any inconvenience or stress this may cause you.  If you feel nervous and feel short of breath this is merely withdrawal symptoms and should disappear after production resumes.  Thank you.

The War On Error

What if?  What if the President, Congress, Governors, State Legislators, and anyone else suddenly declared a war on error?  What if, in a joint session of all those who "lead" us, gathered together and made a new declaration? The declaration would go something like this - "My fellow residents, legal and otherwise, as the leader of the executive branch of the federal government, it pains me to come before you with this testament of failure.  I'm human just like you are which may go against any god-like status bequeathed to me by our country's media branches.  I make mistakes and I make errors just like you. I will try harder to be better and I have been authorized to give you, citizen and non-citizens, this promise from all other leaders in this country - We will do better to serve you, our employer.  We understand, after many missteps and errors, countless waste of revenue and effort, that you're tired of us just spending and demanding more constrictions on your freedoms and lack of direction, in a logical and fundamentally constitutional right, to live your lives as You see fit.  We get it.  You don't trust us and why should you?  We've been doing a really crappy job and you deserve better.  For the past 237 years we've gone down a path that has seen greatness and evil go hand in hand. You should be able to trust us but we have abused that trust and power bestowed upon us by the constitution ratified so long ago.  So, we, in an effort to regain your trust and respect offer to you the following restitution deserving of a republic such as ours.  First, we offer a sincere and deep apology to every man, woman, and child living in this country in the present and in the future.  We have burdened you with a price tag on our ineptness and greed.  When we saw the opportunity to extort and pillage from the coffers of the U.S. Treasury we did.  When we passed laws to merely draw loyalism from groups pandering with overpaid lobbyists, we did you wrong.  When we entertained governments extorting money from you, the taxpayers and revenue contributors of our country, in an effort to realize a greater extent to our own power and needs in the eyes of the world, we were derelict in our duties that we should have held dear but laid refuse similar to body waste of our own making upon those duties.  We were wrong and we are sorry.  We have taken a privilege such as the democratic method of voting and created an industry infused with the most corrupt lawyers and celebrity political activists and created a circus mentality that even circus employees would find shameful and unprofessional.  We have filled the coffers of election campaigns with hard earned money from contributors who couldn't really afford it and from ultra-wealthy stakeholders alike who could, with little regard to the shameful lust and greed displayed for the world to see.  We have shamed this country and the people we represent in our quest for more power and prestige.  We are sorry and ask your forgiveness.  On this day, September 12th, we ask this forgiveness and declare a new war on error.  An error in ideology and political correctness.  A war on ourselves when we show lack of fortitude in our convictions and hold the trust of the American people for ransom while kidnapping the future success of the children of the children who live now.  We promise to do better.  We are, with judgement upon us, only human.  And we declare a new era of rationality and frugality not seen in our country for a lengthy period.  We will do better.  Let's hope that this war will see us to a better day bound in the promise of liberty and justice for all."  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

The Gold Bar With I.O.S. 7 And KMART Christmas Layaway

They did it again.  They changed everything.  Again.  That's what I thought watching CNET's video on the new Apple Touch i.d. technology on the Home button on the new iPhone 5S.  I have gradually pulled away at my fondness for Apple products over the years but that doesn't mean I can't be impressed by their innovation. red The idea that simply touching your finger to the home button to unlock your phone with your individual thumbprint/fingerprint is innovative.  And I really am impressed. red  I say this sincerely and un-apologetically.  I had heard rumors but when I watched the video that Apple put out for their conference I was ... excited.  I won't buy a iPhone 5S for myself but I can see this new feature on the hardware side to be a selling point for anyone who likes the idea of locking their phone but hates entering a password or allowing a face scan to unlock their phone. red  The initial reviews by other companies is a little short-sided.  "They're not being very innovative."  or "It looks just like the iPhone 5 - really Apple?"  But I compare these salvos to the promotional interviews you hear between two contestants before a prize fight.  Because if I'm right, and I have a history in that area, Apple will have a huge winner with the iPhone 5S. red  Now, their cheaper version, the iPhone 5C will see some sales but why would someone who's gonna pay $99 for a new phone not pay another $100 for the better one?  With Touch i.d.?  Because, their friends are going to. red  And their grandparents are going to.  And their friend's friends are going to.  And there's the new "gold bar" iPhone which is probably going to be the new bling standard in music videos. red  I may be wrong (I have a history of that as well) but I have a feeling.  Marketing will be strong and the consumers will feel pushed and frantic to upgrade.  "I can't believe I'm using this two year old technology!! I NEED i.o.s.7!! red  I need the A7 processor chip.  I NEEDDDDD!!!!"  Kids will literally set Christmas trees on fire if they see a cheap $500 android peace of crap in that phone box when what they really wanted was "the gold bar". red   In this day and age it really does boil down to marketing.  red  Did we really think Apple would lie down and play dead when Samsung presented the new and totally innovative Samsung Note III?  Millions will be spent on advertising and product placement with outlets in electronic sales such as BestBuy. red  Ever notice when you click on a website or do a search and suddenly THE IPHONE screams at you?  If I was to guess, and I do that for my own entertainment, the average person will see the new GOLD BAR at least 5 times every day if they leave their house or turn on their computer or look at their mobile internet on their phones. red  Why would a clearly superior phone (and that's my opinion - not scientific fact) such as the HTC One get beaten in sales by the Samsung Galaxy IV? red  Some do prefer Samsung and their presentation of Android on their phones.  But to those who had no prior prejudice towards Samsung or HTC, many chose the Samsung flagship phone.  And it boils down to marketing, product placement, and advertising. red   If you look at AT&T's website and look at the smartphones for sale, you'll notice Samsung and Apple head the list and after doing a long search you'll see the HTC ONE.  (I present this evidence from the perspective of looking at upgrades on my account and a regular shopping search may prove different but I doubt it.) red  Or if you go to Best Buy's website you'll notice on their home page Samsung and Apple as the two most blatant choices for you. red  I don't know if these companies actually pay or give a little kickback for these placements for their products but it sure seems obvious to me.  If you could isolate twenty people from all advertising and just let them choose between the three phones I'm sure there would be interesting results. red  Can you imagine if you could test this theory on a 100,000 potential phone buyers? red  To actually give them no prior marketing or advertising and let them choose based upon choice alone?  Now consider KMART and Christmas layaway in summer.  Yes, that's right. red  They've already started.  And word on the streets is Walmart will start pushing for Christmas crowds soon. red  The only thing I can say is "STOP IT!!!"  I used to enjoy Christmas.  I don't believe in passing frivolous laws but this may be one area that I make exception. red  It just gives one the feeling that they're behind when they're actually ahead. red   So, in summary - you will buy an iPhone Gold Bar.  And you will start your Christmas shopping while you sweat from the summer heat.  And for some reason you're thinking of red.  Aren't you?  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

The Executive Magic Trick

A light slowly brightens on the stage below.  Many of you are in the audience.  Many of you didn't even realize there was a show on.  The magician has been performing for awhile now.  He's talented for sure. His career is on the line and his approval ratings are low.  So many scandals and no where to hide.  His advisers have come up with the ultimate trick.  One that will amaze and confound the most vocal critic.  The curtain remains closed as the MC steps on stage.  He could be any broadcaster from any major news source.  In fact, they're all in on it without even having a clue.  But somewhere and everywhere the trick begins.  A simple red line has been crossed.  For weeks the audience has grown weary from scandal after scandal.  Words such as IRS audits and Benghazi.  Eric Snowden. The Associated Press phone records being searched. United States Attorney General Eric Holder possibly perjuring himself while testifying before Congress.  The ATF Fast and Furious program responsible for weapons being sold to terrorists and used in killing a US Border Patrol agent.  The scandal involving Kathleen Sebelius soliciting donations from companies her agency - Health and Human Services, is responsible for regulating.  The scandal involving the General Services Administration holding a $800,000 training conference in Las Vegas featuring clowns and mind readers.  The really bad bet on Solyndra  for Obama's green energy initiative that cost taxpayers a measly $500 million in federal loans.  The head of the EPA, Lisa Jackson, going by the name of Richard Windsor in email correspondence to government officials, to evade scrutiny in performance of her duties.  Simple little scandals.  Actually huge monstrosities that continue to add up to one of the most corrupt periods in the United States.  There are other examples but the headaches have been mounting for our Performer-In-Chief.  So what's the magic trick you ask.  Well, slight of hand has been used by magicians since magic was first conceived.  The audience has its focus on one area and the magician will use slight of hand and bring something new or move something around and the audience's brains can't comprehend what was done.  It's magic.  How does a man distance himself so far from so many crisis'?  How can a man take the focus from all of those problems and place it elsewhere?  What could cause the American people to forget how bad things are going within this administration?  What could possibly take their eyes away from what's so clearly visible right in front of them?  The threat of another attack from our country upon Syria?  The threat of another Iraq or Afghanistan?  And now it would seem the crisis will be adverted due to an off-handed remark by the ever vigilant Secretary of State?  We'll just take your chemical weapons and you just forget we even mentioned military strikes against your country?  And Russia and Syria took the ball and ran with it?  Doesn't it seem a little too perfect?  Like it was almost planned?  Am I being a little too conspiratorial?  Probably.  But if I'm right, and this was a orchestrated move between Putin, Assad, and Obama, with all of them winning politically, well that makes for a pretty evil magic trick on all of us.  I enjoy a card trick every once in awhile.  But I don't like it when I don't even know there was supposed to be a show.  And for us, in the United States, the scandals seem to have been forgotten for a little bit.  That's magic.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Comments And Fastidiousnesses

One of my favorite activities is reading.  I don't read large novels or even books for that matter.  But I love articles.  I love to read the local paper.  Usually I throw it away in disgust but I do feel the need to read it.  I also have a fondness for reading articles on the internet.  A side note - I always enjoy the use of "on the internet" when it follows "facebook" or "that twitter thing" or "email".  When people write "on the internet" it displays a level of warmth and kindness in directing the reader to the access point of the origins of websites such as facebook or twitter or email.  But I digress ... I do enjoy reading all types of small articles on news sites and my blinkfeed on my phone.  (I have the HTC One and it's an exciting portal into any area of interest you choose. Blinkfeed - I use it as often as my weather app.)  One area I especially enjoy is reading the new comments written on my posts for this blog.  I must say, with gratitude, you are an interesting species.  If I was an alien, which I can't really confirm I'm not, without DNA testing, and who's got the money for that(?), I would remark on the hospitable positivity (positivity is a new word I just made up) you have shown me in the comments I've received and how that reflects with a level of positivity on your race as a whole.  Now, there has been some speculation of the planet of my origin but I assure you, I'm just as human as anyone else.  But, if somehow I was, I'm sure your government would find a way to tax me and burden me with bureaucracy so I would fit in with the rest of you and your kind.  But, I repeat, but, I am not an alien and I'm not really sure how such rumors get started.  First of all, if I was, and I deny such allegations with a fervor beyond fervors, would I unmask myself within my cloud of obscurity, by writing a public blog using some inconsequential name such as Rueuhy?  Why would anyone even come to this conclusion?  It sounds pretty petty and conspiratorial.   Actually I'm really shocked a guy like me could even be considered to be some other race or species such as some intergalactic visitor who just wanted a vacation in this quadrant of the galaxy.  How dare you?  I'm not accusing anyone specifically but really??  That's the level of respect you all have?  Does it make you feel like you're better than me?  For the 99.9999% who would never, ever, label me in such a way for your entertainment, I apologize for this post.  But for that 0.00001% who feels the need to label me, well, let me just say I'm sick of being treated this way and I may just leave your little planet and go back. But that's what you want, isn't it?  I take the time to learn a language you can understand, work hard, try to give back a little to society, and this is how you want to treat me?  But I digress ... I really just wanted to say thank you for the kind comments.  And for those of you who post them on "My New Website" post, can you please make a referral to other posts you were reading when you posted to "My New Website"?  I would greatly appreciate it.  And to you, Mr. Anonymous, who just can't let the whole "he must be an alien" thing go, I assure you my blood's as red as yours, sir.  It's as red as yours.  My name is Mr. Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Exponentially divided

The world is a dangerous place.  That's the last thing my mother would tell me before her and dad left me at the airport and flew away.  I still remember her looking back and then looking at dad and then asking the flight attendant how long before takeoff.  I guess that's why I really don't like airports.  Or flight attendants.  And it's not their fault.  How could they know that a couple of parents would abandon their child on Christmas Eve?  I sure as heck didn't know what was going on until the police officer asked me where my parents were.  For the next twenty six years I went to the same terminal and gate, on Christmas Eve, in the hopes that somehow, against all odds, my parents would show back up and tell me a wrenching tale of being kidnapped and their twenty six year journey getting back home.  I will never give up because I believe in hope.  But I also play the lotto every week.  I didn't say I was a genius.  Just hopeful.  My name is Penny Watkins.  I'm a survivor.  I'm also a professional comedian.  For the past two years I've performed in front of more audiences than I care to remember.  I've been heckled so much on stage that a normal person would have gotten issues from it.  In the back of my mind I do care.  I guess I just figure it's human nature to be buttheads.  And I guess way down deep inside I know the truth behind being abandoned at the airport that night.  But I don't let it define me.  In fact, it's because of that pain that I do the one thing for others that I find so hard to do for myself.  I try to make 'em laugh.  They say laughter is the best medicine.  I know a couple of vets that would disagree with that but they're pretty messed up from the war so I give them a pass on that rule.  I do love to see people laugh though.  Especially when I'm on stage.  Especially the ones in the audience who try so hard to not let anyone see how much they hurt inside.  But I can see.  They say the best doctors are the ones who have been sick just like you.  They know how far down you have to go before the healing really begins.  And in some sad way, I can see just how funny I need to be for the ones who need to laugh.  Because deep down inside I want to laugh.  It's the worse feeling not knowing how.  I can fake it.  I can show others how but it just stays buried down deep inside for me.  I remember my adoptive brother always giving me a hard time because he couldn't understand how I could be so funny but never smile.  I also remember how surprised he got when I pulled the gun on him and shot him in the forehead.  I'm just kidding of course.  It was loaded with blanks but he sure did drop a load that day.  Our head mistress yelled "What's going on?" and Johnny was just yelling "I'm hit. I'm hit."  The rest of the orphanage laughed about it but I spent some time in the basement by myself.  I also lost the gun that day as well.  As the story goes,  I was minding my own business and performing on stage in the Hotel Carlton in downtown Buffalo when I noticed the couple sitting in the back of the room.  They looked so familiar yet so unreal.  Could it be them?  Could two of the most uncaring jerks a child could call parents be sitting in the back of the room while I was performing?  I was in the middle of my act when I first noticed them.  I kept my eyes on them and in one terrible and frightening moment I was sure of it.  But they must have felt some safety sitting in the dark in the audience.  A large part of me wanted to run to them and hug them.  Another part of me wanted to find the nearest pair of scissors I could find and watch the horror in their faces as I plunged those shears deep in their aortas.  But that's not who I am.  I'm a comedian.  The only thing I could do was tell my story.  The story of an eight year old girl just wanting to be loved.  The story of being abandoned by two people I trusted most in the world without a clue to what I had done to be left alone.  There was not laughter that night.  Only silence.  As I finished my story I could hear a few nervous giggles but there was a deeper silence from the back of the room.  And the chairs were vacant.  A part of me wants to know why but another part of me never wants to know.  So I will continue to try my best to see others laugh.  And some day I too will laugh.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

True Stories I Want To Tell You

Many years ago, approximately 375 yards from the exact spot where I'm sitting at, a man yelled at his wife in a crowded restaurant.  What he yelled would be remembered by me and mine to this very day.  Apparently this man had some issues.  Let me tell you the story as I remember it.  (It's at this point that a cloud of rolling smoke pours in and covers the floor.  The room gets very quiet as you, the reader, lean in a little closer for a tale that can only be told in dim light.  If you need me to I can wait a couple of minutes for you to turn your lights off ....)  Anyway, my family was sitting in a booth in a local restaurant when another family proceeded to sit in a booth very near to our own.  I had just ordered the sunshine special, (It was a Saturday, around 10 in the morning, I wanted brunch.  I didn't really want lunch yet and it seemed too late for breakfast so brunch seemed like the clear choice to me.) and I can't really remember what anybody else ordered but I do remember drinking a cup of coffee as well.  I usually finish half a cup by the time my food gets to the table which seems odd that no matter how much food I order, a half cup of coffee is usually what I can finish by the time the food gets there.  But I digress ... Anyway, the family was sitting there and joking around.  That's when we heard the father from the other booth raise his voice.  To this day I'll never really understand his issues or what was going on with them before they came in the restaurant.  I'll never know if the man and his wife were fighting for the past week or if this was just normal behavior.  But you have to remember this - my family was just sitting there goofing around and talking and we hear this other family, mostly the father, start yelling.  What he yelled was pretty memorable.  If you asked the four of us to recall exactly what he said you would probably get four different answers. If you asked the four of us what time of day it was you would probably get four different answers.   And if you asked each of us what we ordered we probably couldn't remember exactly what we ordered.  But we all remember him shouting.  And we remember how scared the kid got.  And I would imagine there might have been some embarrassment from the wife or the children because of what the father yelled.  But to this day, if the line he said was repeated to any of the four of us sitting so close to their table you would hear us snicker about it.  Because sometimes it's in the moment that makes a moment so special and memorable.  I just remember how freakin' funny it was to us.  And the peace that we felt that day, as we did something so ordinary as sit and share a meal at a family restaurant, seemed so stark in difference to what the booth close to us was experiencing.  You may not find what he said to be that funny.  It's one of those times when "You just had to be there".  So, your curiosity is peaked, isn't it?  You want to know what a man could yell in a restaurant that would be remembered years later.  It's a phrase I repeat every so often just to get a smile from someone in my family because it seemed so special at the time.  Like I said, you may not find any humor in it but just remember that the man, the father of that family, yelled it in a quiet restaurant.  Also, I believe it had to do with his son's glass of tea.  What he yelled was this - "Don't give him any sugar!!  It'll make him hyper!!"  So ends the tale of a non-hyper son who almost got a lethal dose of a teaspoon of sugar and the father who would do anything to prevent it.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

Helpful Hints For Using Power Tools

Recently, this past week, the week we're still in, I ordered a new hitch for my service van.  I received the item and decided I needed to install it as soon as possible.  I have not bought a new trailer yet, but when I do, I will need the hitch to haul it.  So I was pretty excited.  Never installed one before but there was instructions.  Now, you can purchase all kinds of things on ebay or even craigslist so the days of waiting weeks for that item you've been wanting for months but took years to decide to buy it are over.  Now, through the modern marvels of digital acquisitions, you can search for an item and within a few minutes and possession of a debit/credit card, you're wildest fantasies can be realized.  My wildest fantasy this week was a class 3 trailer hitch for my service van.  It's an older vehicle - 2002 year, but it only has 220,000 miles on it.  But it probably has a couple hundred thousand more miles left in it so the new hitch will be to my advantage.  Plus you just never know when someone's gonna ask "Hey mister, can you tow this for me?"  Sometimes, as the group Toto sang for us a few years back, you have to "Tow the line".  Actually it was "Hold the line" but I like to sing songs the way I choose.  But I digress ....  So, after waiting a full two days I received my new hitch and I was ready to install it.  Now, technically, I've only been hitched three times (as my wives will tell you - one in a pleasant voice and another in a not so pleasant voice) so getting "hitched" sometimes requires drilling.  If I had purchased a class two rated hitch I would not have been doing any drilling according to the latest descriptions to be read on ebay.  But a class three does require two new holes on each side on the frame.  It's not a complicated thing once you get a bolt in place in the existing holes on each side.  Once the hitch is up you can mark the four locations so you can drill the holes.  So simple if you happen to have access to a car lift.  I don't by the way - have access to a car lift.  So the old car jack and jack stand is required.  To make a short story long, I left my good jack in the garage at home and I had a simple bottle jack at the shop.  You have to remember, I was so excited so why would I drive all the way across town just to get my good jack.  Well, short story long, I had just enough room to get my 1/2" power drill and 1/2" bit under the frame with a few inches to spare.  So I was drilling the holes while laying on my side.  It's not the first time I've done hard work while laying on my side.  In fact, in another short story, I was laying on my side and tightening 2" black pipe in a crawl space one time and I felt something tear in my stomach.  I literally felt the tear occur.  Hernias - who needs 'em.  And another time I was trying to get the drain bolt off of a transmission one time and I had my shoulder pop out of place a little bit.  These things happen if you work enough. But yesterday, while drilling, without really having a good grip on the drill, the bit got caught in the metal and the drill decided to keep turning.  If you've never experienced a drill wanting to turn while the bit has stopped it's an experience.  Fortunately I was wearing safety glasses and the handle of the drill only hit the glasses.  But my wrist on my right hand stayed with the drill.  Now, a day later, my right hand looks pretty puffy and I can't really even grab a full coffee cup without using both hands.  I think I really messed it up but at least I'm able to type.  I still have to work today (which should be a LOT of fun) because my boss is a jerk and won't let me stay home and rest it.  I do work for myself but sometimes I can be very hard on myself when it comes to injuries.  Unless I'm laying on the floor unconscious why should a little problem like a dislocated wrist or whatever I did stop me from working.  It is Friday and I can rest when I'm dead.  Anyway, I wanted you all to know how much pain I'm in just to write this post.  Because I know how important my thoughts and creativeness are to you all.  (Sniffles can be heard in the background as our hero trudges on.) In fact, I'm not even going to check my writing today. If it's misspelled or out of context or there are any other writing problems please excuse me.  I am wounded.  My name is Rueuhyruehyheyuyyd and I approve this blog.  By the way, I did get my hitch installed but there are two bolts securing it on each side instead of the required three.  But, I will finish one day.  And on that day I swear by all that is good and pleasant I will tow something.  Anything.  But I will tow.  And Toto can hold the line.  I miss them.  They had catchy tunes.

The Elimination Of Jerrod Peak

Her coffee was getting cold but it didn't matter to her.  Cathy was more interested in the complex pattern printed on the side of the cup. It was a delicate mixture of flowing lines and flowers with a touch of eternal measure.  The designer would never be known and it was a simple set of china dinnerware she had purchased the previous year.  She had just never paid attention to the pattern.  And, in the mixture of colors and metallic shadowing, there was a calmness to it.  She could almost feel the peace settling in on her.  The brief escape was short lived as her son interrupted her travels.  "Should I wear the tie father gave me?"  Jerrod was displaying it in his hands with a gentleness reserved for items much more fragile.  He would be thirteen today.  At exactly 2:03 pm, thirteen years ago, the doctor had shown him to her and her life would become one of servitude and love for him.  He was beautiful at birth.  The glow from him was indistinguishable from the imagination one could have of the angels themselves.  And the nurses almost paid as much attention to him in the nursery as his own mother did.  She had always felt a sense of pride and wonder in her child as the years had passed.  He was almost destined for this moment.  She would never be ready for it.  It was in the first few hours the gentlemen from the Hungerford Institute had first made contact.  Her husband and her had no money.  The offer seemed too good to be true and they assured her that many others had already undergone such testing.  There would be no harm of any kind that would find its way into Jerrod's life.  They would only be required to make an hour journey to the institute on a monthly basis for adjustments to the equipment and a download of data from the memory drives contained in the miniature video device.  Her husband gave the initial approval for the testing to see if Jerrod was even compatible with the device.  She was not so sure of using her son for such a program.  But after the accident at her husband's work and with no money coming in, Jerrod's future would consist of tenant housing and very little food.  She wanted more for him.  And her husband was being logical about the proposal given by the doctors from Hungerford.  It would only be years later, after Jerrod's father realized the full extent of what the procedure meant, that the implications drove him away.  He never even told her goodbye.  She had left for the market with Jerrod and Jim had made a final exit from their lives.  He did find it in his heart to leave her with a small reserve of cash in the checking account after withdrawing a large portion of the funds.  In the end he was the jerk her mother had always warned her of.  In the thirteen years since the implant first started recording, many changes had occurred within the country.  The implementation of the Patriot Act, and the four revisions the Congress had approved, gave way to an industrious take over by the scientific community for lobbying using the act as a basis for more controlled monitoring of the public.  In test trials, over a course of limited years, the results of monitoring the public had become common place and was found to be a necessity for the safety of the common man.  Within the past three years lobbying within the scientific community had brought even tighter controls of enforcement of monitoring and had lead the way for technological breakthroughs in the areas of predictive behavior profiling which allowed for tighter monitoring of subjects found to be of higher risk for terrorism involvement.  What Cathy and Jim did not realize was the implications the future would hold and the judgement Jerrod would come under upon his thirteenth year.  What would normally be a time of celebration had become a moment of parental terror for Cathy.  Jerrod, as limited in years as he was, understood too well the judgement meant for him.  He would be the first subject that had fully been involved in the program for the full extent of the thirteen years required for full execution of the newest laws in terrorism prevention.  On this day, instead of cake and presents, he would find himself standing in front of a military tribunal and if found to be an imminent future threat, the law would find him guilty without ever pulling a trigger or assigning allegiance to any foreign entity.  He would be labeled a terrorist and found guilty of future possible acts of terrorism against the United States.  Somehow, in the madness of the moment, Jerrod found a connection to his mother through that tie he presented to her.  And in those final moments before they made the trip to Southhurst Air Base for convening of the tribunal, Cathy found a strength from the love she felt from her son.  She had no words of comfort but only arms to reach for him.  Today would be the first of many for the children involved in project Freedom.   My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.

The Chill Pill And Other Ideas

What if .... That's a question I ask a lot.  What if there was a pill that could control a person's natural cooling ability with their sweat glands that would allow for natural cooling without the over-production of sweat?  Would the need for most air conditioning stop?  Air conditioning isn't the only area my thoughts dwell.  Awhile back I thought "What if you could touch the front of your refrigerator and the glass in the doors would go from dark to clear so you could see what was inside without ever having to open the door.  That was ten years ago.  I even contacted a invention oriented company about the idea.  I didn't have $400 at that time so it never was initiated.  A few months ago I read that a company in Japan was working on such an idea.  Not only would you be able to see inside, the glass would be a display with a screen that would show you the temperature and menu options for what you had in the refrigerator.  The "what if's" in life always come back to bite me when I realize how much potential money I could have had if I got off the couch and got in the garage and started tinkering.  The ideas just come to me and I'll tell people about them. "Oh neat" they'll tell me. "You should really do that." they'll tell me.  But time is the enemy.  And who really needs to see inside their refrigerator anyway.  It'll probably cost $5000 or more and only be available at Best Buy or Sears.  But life is filled with the backward looks at the "what if's".  What if I wouldn't have stolen that car and gone for the joyride Tommy asks himself as he sits incarcerated while his friends are finishing college.  Or what if I would have just told Tommy "no" that night and I wouldn't have been raising Jimmy on my own while his no good for nothin' father sits in prison for auto theft Susie asks herself.  Yes, we all linger on the what if's too long at times.  The truth is you are exactly who you should be.  When you think about it you would probably make the same mistakes again.  Because you are not who are now when you had to make those choices.  You did what you did and now the what if's are just you're way of trying to feel better about yourself.  There's a famous song you'll hear in the future that I'm about to write soon.  I'm gonna be pretty rich and famous and a part of me is going to regret not putting that song up somewhere so that I couldn't find it.  But for now I still feel that I should but I just hope I'm not right about regretting the fame and fortune in a few years. But I'll deal with it then. For now I still have to finish writing it.  But it is really going to be good. So good, in fact, most people will remember me for that one single song than anything else I ever do in the future.  But I just can't seem to stop myself. And when I'm 64 I'll probably do the what if and ask myself what if I never wrote that song, got famous, my wife never left me, and my kids still liked me.  That's kinda how the what if works.  My name is R (the artist formerly known as Rueuhy) and I approve this blog.

Independent Teenager

It's so cute.  They're all grown up in their minds.  The world merely needs to conform to their view.  It should only be so simple shouldn't it?  Sometimes those pesky responsibilities, we, those half-witted parents, have been trying to explain for a few years, seem so real and surprising to them.  And those mean landlords who "demand" payment every month.  What kind of sick individuals would go to a bank, finance a loan, put their credibility on the line, establish credit over a decade or two, clean it up, put money into restoring it into a livable domicile, put an ad in the classifieds for "house/apartment for rent", and then "demand" their money every month?  What kind of world is that?  What kind of world do we live in?  Or the grocery store and other businesses?  What kind of corporation or small business people would rent/lease a building, hire employees, establish a chain of goods/services to come into the building, jump through government bureaucracy to open and run a business, pay taxes on the property and other fees and penalties for running a business, pay insurance, pay advertising, eat any loss that comes with theft and no payment, and then expect us to pay a set price up front or over an agreed contracted time?  And what kind of individuals would expect me to show up everyday, at a set time, for a set wage, with a set amount of required work/responsibilities, with the government dictating what they can and must pay us, and then expect us to "jump through hoops" and "do as we're told" and not pay us raises for doing the same level of work day after day and no extra money coming into the business to compensate for those raises?  Who are these people?  And why are these people, dressed in the uniforms, driving patrol cars, wearing guns and badges, expecting me to respect their authority?  Why does society not understand my need to paint graffiti, as an expression of my art form on private and public property, paid for by tax payers and sole proprietors and neighbors and those pesky "responsible" adults?  Or why do people stare at me because I choose to shave my head or put tattoos all over my body, or pierce every visible and non-visible part of my body, or place big loops in my ears or my lips?  What's their problem?  Why can't I drive however I want if I'm not killing anybody?  Why doesn't the world just try to understand me?  Sometimes, we, as their parents, just need to lock them away in a safe room until they're thirty. It really takes that long for most to understand why the world is the way it is and why we have to adapt to it for society not to decline into total chaos.  Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe I'm too hard hearted to the free spirit of free expression and "new" ideas that emanate from the wisdom of hormones duelling it out within those young heads.  I just know I'm past thirty and it just seems common sense now.  But I do remember some leather pants I use to wear when Michael Jackson was moon walking.  And I do remember a few misunderstandings with a few bosses I had years ago.  But if only teenagers could get past what I had to learn and just get to the place I'm in now perhaps the world could better conform to my "ideal" world.  But there is a place deep inside where I dream and the throttle on my motorcycle gets opened to the max.  And I just quit work.  And the bills just stay in the mailbox.  It's still there way down deep inside.  But it's experience that stops me.  And it's experience that'll stop them.  Poor things.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.  

I Can't Believe It's Not Better or The Margarine Presidency

The phone call came suddenly and without warning.  George had just laid down for his afternoon nap when Laura handed him his cellphone.  "Who is it, L?" His wife was visibly upset and her answer was short and bitter.  "It's him again.  Tell him he wanted the job and I'm sick of the calls.  I would tell him myself but I don't want to use certain words I know will come out if I really tell him what I think!"  George hated seeing his wife upset but he felt he was partially to blame and sometimes a man just has to take these calls every once in a while.  As he looked at his Samsung Hennessy he smiled to himself.  Very few people in the world actually had a working version of the new flip phone but it felt nostalgic in his hands.  The trip was only momentary as reality sank in.  George asked the question but knew the answer already.  "Chicago, what can I do you fer?"  George could feel the anxiety flowing in from the other end. "Thanks for taking my call sir.  I just have a few questions and I don't want you to feel obligated to answer but if you would that would mean a lot to me.  This whole Syria thing.  It's a real mess."  George smiled to himself as the memories from all those years, which had felt so unbearable but had found a departure from his life when his term ended, came flooding in.  "I totally understand Chicago.  Syria's not going to end well no matter what you do. Have you checked with the Houses yet?  Have you got a feel for what they're thinking?"  There was a brief silence as George could here papers shuffling from the other end.  "Well, I know how my party feels but they haven't felt the necessity of  such action within the senate or the house.  But we do have some early poll results..."  George drew a deep breath feeling the futility rise like the sun dawning on another day.  "You can't always rely on the early polling. If I know anything, or I'm sure of anything, the people only know what they want on a given day.  If I had to guess those numbers will have flipped by Monday.  Has the networks even mentioned congressional approval yet?"  More shuffling paper noise from the other end.  "Well, sir, I know there has been some referrals to your time in office, and there has been some mention of it, but it hasn't made the title into any of their entro's yet.  We've just been waiting."  George could have almost written the phone conversation beforehand.   "Well, Chicago, they'll bury you and your numbers on Syria and anything else will go down the crapper if you don't get a handle on the press.  I've been watching your numbers and they go down if you talk too much.  Get Kerry in the spotlight.  Mr. 'Nam might rethink his whole policy if he remembers this is only a three year gig."  The silence was a usual thing as George waited for the words to be digested.  "So I should proceed with the congress approval but stick to my guns on action?"  George wanted to get back to his nap but he knew how the man on the other line felt.  "Listen Chicago, sometimes you can't worry about the polls or "your people" or anybody else.  You gotta use common sense.  You gotta let your gut do the talking and never, I repeat never, let Couric or Lauer ask about it before you've already done the talkin'.  You get what I'm sayin' to you?"  More paper shuffling from the other end.  "Yes I do sir.  My apologies to you and Laura and I hope I haven't interrupted your day to much.  Thank you George and all my best to you and yours."  George smiled to himself grateful he was out of that office.  "Well, I just hope you can get this all straightened out before Thanksgiving.  Americans don't like sitting with their turkey's on the table and tryin' to digest war at the same time.  If you're gonna punt better get a better kicker in there than 'Nam.  That whole Swift Boat thing will come back to haunt him one last time. Give my best to Michelle and the girls.  Those two 'l be makin' headlines soon as well."  As George hung up the phone he took a long sip from his iced tea and slowly closed his eyes.  At least he wasn't the only one to know how much the world could weigh when it was on your shoulders.  "I hope Laura makes a pie with supper." he mumbled as he dozed off.  My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.