August 21, 2021

Yesteryear
One year ago today: August 21, 2020, Democrats oppose poll monitors.
Five years ago today: August 21, 2016, the same portions.
Nine years ago today: August 21, 2012, embodied energy quotient.
Random years ago today: August 21, 2007, 212 years old.

           Home alone. Me and the pets, that is. The Reb is in Dallas, another fundraiser. She left on the 7:10 last evening, me and the doggies walked around the library grounds. No nothing about the heralded audit results that was supposed to shift the planets out of orbit. So me and the doggies piled in the van and drove out to Pegram Station. Ever heard of it? You have now. Here's your mystery picture behind the station. Doggies were in a frenzy, figuring they are rabbit hutches, but nope. These are made of metal. Have you guessed already?

           It was a relatively cool morning, so after a trip back to Trader Joe's in Green Hills for some souveniers, I turned the GPS to "no highways" and kept driving west. After a bit, I saw a country store and pulled over. Across the way I saw Pegram Station, thinking it was a museum. It's more of a clubhouse, so that's where the doggies got the tour. This is an area to the immediate west of Nashville that I don't know very well. I have the impression it is heavily wooded hill country. There's a few cattle farms but no visible sign of an economy I could detect. We were only 15-20 miles from the city, but made a three hour drive of it, stopping for a V-8 juice and some scenery.

           We found a fishing tackle store next to what appeared to be a local musicians gathering spot. Just not on Saturday mornings. Also a music academy of blues and bluegrass, with an impressive roster of authentic players who now teach. Alas, nothing was scheduled for the days I'll be here this trip but I think it could be worth a look-see. I'm not a great fan of bluegrass because of the gospel leanings, but my background in classic country bass makes for a deadly combination. My traditional incentives are long gone with this music. Back in the day, you could count on meeting a lot of farmer's daughters. These days, you meet the farmer's wives and mothers.
           So let me get this straight. Instead of the announced release of the Arizona audit results scheduled for y'day, we get yet another "statement" from that Rogers lady to prepare to get ready to prime ourselves to gird our loins in anticipation of a draft of a preliminary outline of a dispatch bulletin of a brief to be scrutinized, reviewed, combed, investigated, probed, and handed over to the Spanish Inquisition before a single fact or figure reaches the public at some unspecified point in the distant future. But that point will be after another several dozen deadlines and announcements, and after the 2022 campaigning is well underway, no doubt.

Picture of the day.
Painter’s helper.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           That brings up a kindred topic about meeting women. Ha, I almost said consanquineous topic, stopping myself just in time. Yes, I still get approached regularly by women I have no interest in of any nature. Is there anybody out there who continues to think I'm bragging about this? Well, you have the wrong blog. Only men who have trouble, you-know, always think I'm lying. It happens mostly in a setting I'll describe. I walk in for a cold one, notice there are no hot young together babes in the place, so I'll find a non-traffic spot and take out my notebook.

           Most pubs I would frequent (I dislike pseudo-rap tribal music) have a contingent of older women through no fault of my own. And invariably, they have been hit on in every imaginable way--well, except one. You see, such women so often appear (I said appear) phased by men who have two qualities. One, men who are doing something constructive with their leisure time, and two, men who are not hitting on them. I fully understand why women get around to that mode of thinking and I swear some women I meet have never seen a man like that. Like, ever.

           It usually takes around an hour before one of them works up the lather to come over and ask me what I'm writing. There are a dozen wrong ways to fail at this, I'll list you the top four:

                      1) my husband wants to know what you are writing.
                      2) you must be a work-a-holic.
                      3) put away that pencil and have a good time.
                      4) you better not be writing anything about me.

           I'm sticking my neck out here because historians love to pick apart such material. These have all happened multiple occassions. I've never had a good approach used on me, since women tend to be so oblique sometimes you really cannot fathom their intentions and it could be dangerous to try guessing. So mostly they get the chicken coop story these days. While on this vein, are there any pickup lines that have worked on me all these years? Yes, two, but they were so well-worded yet direct I won't give them away. So rather than a transcript, ladies, you'll have to settle for a formula.
           Okay. The first thing to realize is that if I was there after any age-appropriate dating, it means I'm using the wrong approach. Figure what that means on your own. It amounts to me ignoring all women except the one serving me Buds. Yes, I'm aware that by now other men have noticed if any women are watching me. Oddly, very few women think me for old-fashioned for using a scribbler. Because by now, several men have hauled out their smart phones to lamely emulate matters. Instead, it creates the impression they cannot write, ha. That's a different topic. The substance here is how important it is to take stock of the situation in advance. Getting back to the approach, ladies, do not walk over and plunk down on the chair next to me, signalling that you intend to park no matter how things develop. If I choose to ignore you, I will and the whole bar will see this. I find many women are just as touchy about this as they know men are.

           Do not pretend you are interested in what I'm writing. Since you've already glanced at the page, I've safely concluded you know little about navigation, physics, accounting, robotics, and such because if you were, you'd instantly recognize the format and not have to ask. At this point nothing helps more than being the prettiest gal in the place. (We are talking pubs here, you rarely want the prettiest gal in the library.) Regardless of your outlook on gender roles, this is still a saloon which is the pre-1991 version of speed-dating. Do not try to interest me in anything you are at this point. One exception, Taylor, where I am automatically interested because she has such a sharp mind.
           You know, come to think of it, there is no answer to what comes next. I have to decide it is me that wants to talk and that decision can take time. I know by now half the bar is watching. So you know what? I'm going downtown for a couple right now. It is raining and the doggies will not walk. That's why they got out for four hours this morning.

ADDENDUM
           One thing that's growing old is all these disclaimers that people write about how they do not advocate violence, or how they are strictly on the side of peace or never condoln this or that. Bullshit, we all know you are saying that avoid consequences. So either shut up about it and be a chickenshit elsewhere, or speak your piece. You are all telling the world you got a big mouth, but would side with the domestic terrorists if they ever show up at your door. That's the definition of useless. What? Oh, I know I say such things myself at times, but I'm talking about these shitheads that predicate every damn thing they say with it. If you don't know the difference, go fly a kite.
           The left is already prepping for defeat, it just isn't front page news. The signs are there, from mass deletion of files, conveniently forgotten passwords, and the presentation of news from the White House. When they want to place blame, it was "the Trump administration", when they wanted to take credit, it was "the Biden administration". Now, for the record books, everything has suddenly become, "the Government's position". I know that does not fool anybody here, but this country is full of mush-brains.

           There's another millennialism that gets my goat. It's websites with titles claiming the latest and greatest, but in fact, these have not been updated in some cases since never. You know who you are, 9News. It's hard to filter these bastards out, since it is their internal sort that often goes by a click counter. It's representative of their degenerative thinking patterns, you know. Say a piece was popular in 2019 and got to the top of their list. This causes new users to land on the article, causing it to perpetually stay at the top of the list. And two years later, Tyler & Brandon think they've got a shot at going viral. Meanwhile, the potential new subscribers move on, cutting off business. You can't make this shit up.

           Answer to mystery picture. They are ovens, plainly meant for some massive barbeque. And yes, that is a photo of the dog marking a post. From the blog that dares.

Last Laugh