Another Crappy Cell-Phone Pic

Saw these while shopping earlier today...

I looked for a Wheel of Life tee shirt but no joy.  They must have been sold out.

Apropos o' everything... I cannot, for the life of me, get a good photo out of the mePhone.  It all comes down to holding that damned lil thing STEADY and that defeats me.  Every time.

And now... BEER me!

A Passing

From the Usual USAF Source:

Last Crew Member of the B-29 Enola Gay Has Died

Enola Gay crewmembers (l-r) Maj. Theodore Van Kirk, Col. Paul Tibbets Jr., and Maj. Thomas Ferebee. File photo.

​The last surviving crew member of the Enola Gay, the B-29 Superfortress that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan, to accelerate the end of World War II, has died. Theodore Van Kirk died July 28 at a nursing home in Stone Mountain, Ga. He was 93. Van Kirk, known as "Dutch," was the navigator in the Enola Gay crew, led by Col. Paul Tibbets, who commanded the 509th Composite Bomb Group, which was formed to conduct the atomic bomb missions. Flying from an airfield on the captured Japanese Island of Tinian, the crew dropped the 9,000-pound weapon, called "Little Boy," over Hiroshima early on Aug. 6, 1945. Three days later, another B-29 from the 509th dropped a second atomic bomb on Nagasaki. Japan surrendered Aug. 15. The Enola Gay was snarled in controversy in 1994 when the Smithsonian Institution planned to use it in a display that would have depicted the Japanese as victims. A campaign led by Air Force Magazine forced the Smithsonian to cancel that exhibit, and the bomber became a popular attraction at Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum. Van Kirk always supported the atomic bombings for avoiding an invasion of Japan that could have killed hundreds of thousands of allied troops and Japanese. (See also Atomic Mission from the October 2010 issue of Air Force Magazine.)

RIP, Mr. Van Kirk.   

That photo makes me nostalgic for a time I didn't live in, mainly for the simplicity and great good looks the uniform had in days gone by.  Note the fact these officers had something like 14 ribbons between the three of them and this photo was prolly taken during the last days of WW II, meaning all three gentlemen had LOTS of hours in combat.  Any given USAF major today has at least 14 decorations on his/her chest.  Think I'm exaggerating?  Check out the major's rack on my sidebar.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Van, with one of the VERY few tunes o' his available on these inter-tubes....

Van Morrison - Moondance from Kostas Kofinas on Vimeo.

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight
I can't wait 'til the morning has come
And I know that the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run

The lyrics above bring to mind a woman I knew in the wayback, a woman who had a penchant for "eye-openers" (meaning the early morning), which was her favorite time to... ummm... get together.  And I mean the early, early morning, like when her eyes first popped open.  This was one of the very few areas of incompatibility in our relationship, as my libido was (and still is) at rock bottom upon awakening.  Still and even, we endeavored to persevere and did our duty when called upon, more often than not.

We DO miss that woman.  Greatly.

Coincidence? I Think Not!

Even the Occasional Gentle Reader knows I steal stuff from Shoebox... prolly a lot more than I should.  So then we see this on the Shoebox blog today...

Ahem.  Haven't we been here before?

Friday, July 25, 2014

More Idiots Among Us

It's easy to spot the grade-school dropouts in life.  They're the ones who can't... or won't... color within the lines.

And... 

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Idiots Among Us

Taken 20 minutes ago at Wally-World, wherein this person required TWO handicapped parking spaces.  I didn't realize you could get a disabled tag for being mentally handicapped.

Just sayin'.

Reefer Madness, Revisited

From The Usual Source of the political 'toons ya see here from time to time...

Everything old is new again, eh?  Today's Varvel 'toon looks a lot like this:

Graphic from an op-ed in the NYT, where the editorial page advocated ending marijuana prohibition this past Sunday.

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.  I suppose it's asking way too much for us to learn from our mistakes, even if the current War On (Some) Drugs... dating back to Nixon's time and before... has failed to either reduce demand or stop anyone from using pot if they have a mind to do so.  The cat's out of the bag, at least in Colorado and Washington, with more states to follow.  I never thought I'd be able to say this, but I believe (now) that I'll see legal marijuana nationwide before I die.  The air of inevitability surrounding legal pot is unmistakable.

Late. Again.

We just finished answering last night's comments and started working on the overnight mail, shortly after we poured our first cup.  Yes, it's yet another late start.  Still and even, it was a great good day to sleep in.  I had NO ideer what our WX was like until I opened the blinds this morning.  Imagine my surprise:

From the study window

You can see it's been raining for a good while as the 17th Street Canal and Intra-City waterway is in its navigable state.  This is the best of all possible rains, as well, seein' as how it's a slow soaker without any of the Sturm und Drang we usually get here on The High Plains o' New Mexico.  It looks like it's gonna rain for a while longer:

That storm is drifting ever-so-slowly in a northeasterly direction.  I'm REALLY looking forward to Happy Hour today!

Back in a bit if there's anything worth sharing.

Late Start

We had a not-so-good night last evening.  I went to bed at a decent sort o' hour (for me), which is to say shortly before midnight, but then we were up and down nearly every hour until 0500.  I'm having the strangest difficulty with sinus congestion of late and it's not been fun at all.  The congestion has been irritating, but not irritating enough for me to make an appointment with my doctor, of course.  We've just been endeavoring to persevere, mostly.

So: late start.  I just poured my second cup and am working my way through the overnight mail.  Here's a lil plane pr0n from the Usual USAF Source that serves as a placeholder until such time as I get my excrement consolidated.

Republic of Singapore air force crew chief assigned to the 428th Fighter Squadron at Mountain Home AFB, Idaho, waits for the arrival of an F-15SG aircraft prior to the start Red Flag 14-3, July 11, 2014 at Nellis AFB, Nev. Air Force photo by A1C Thomas Spangler.

I LOVE the color scheme on this bird!

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

The Police, with an '80s chestnut:

Roxanne
You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right

Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light
Roxanne
You don't have to put on the red light

I had a Roxanne in my life in the way-wayback.  My Roxanne was my girlfriend during my senior year in high school and for a brief time after that.  Roxy was, quite literally, a Teen-Age Beauty Queen.  By that I mean the girl was a veteran beauty pageant contestant by the time she... we... were in high school.  That was prolly the most interesting thing about the girl, and she had the looks to prove it.  The least-interesting thing about her was her mother, who was the stereotypical stage mother... a woman who had an entire room in her house dedicated to Roxy's trophies, framed 8x10 glossies, dried flowers, tiaras, gowns, and every-frickin'-thing one can imagine about beauty pageants, dating back to Roxy's first competition when she couldn't have been more than a few months out of diapers.  The room was like a shrine and left me rather awe-struck the first time I saw it.  But back to the mother... 

Roxy's mom was a German war-bride, a fading beauty with that signature guttural German accent (that makes EVERYthing seem ominous and/or evil) who'd gone to seed quite a few years before I met her.  The woman also hated me with an unexplained passion; she made this quite plain and took no steps to conceal her contempt for me; insults were frequent and not at all that subtle.  As a matter of fact, Roxy's mom could have been modeled on Ilsa, whose image is at right; just add 30 pounds around the waistline and that's HER.  The woman was enough of a (w)itch that visits to the family home were painful and therefore quite rare.  Roxy and I spent most of our time together at my house or "out."  But we persevered, she and I, Mom be damned.

Well, we persevered until about two months after I left to join the Air Force.  I received my very first "Dear John" letter from Roxy the month I arrived at Keesler Airplane Patch after basic training.  I'm pretty sure Roxy went on to become a successful call girl; I'm just glad she ran into Sting.  Things could have ended badly, otherwise.

Whatsit?

The post title is in reference to the photo above.  The answer?  This:

“Look at the wall,” David Mellor, the Boston Red Sox groundskeeper, said to sports photographer CJ Gunther. “Ok,” shrugged back Gunther. “No. Really look at it.” It was then that Gunther realized he was staring at hundreds of baseball marks scattered along Fenway’s famous Green Monster wall. “You need to come shoot pictures of these,” said Mellor.” And with Mellor’s declaration in 2009, CJ Gunther began his body of work, chronicling the detailed scars scattered across baseball’s arguably most famous wall. “My first reaction was awe. I’ve been coming here forever and never seen this,” recalls Gunther.

Go here to see the photos and read how they're made.

Saturday: Not Sold In Stores

Why have I not seen most of these on MY teevee?  I suppose I should be thankful I haven't.

For the record: slim video pickin's this week, what with The Usual Source of this stuff bein' on hiatus or otherwise indisposed.

Warmish

We're just in from the verandah after consuming the first beer o' the day but we won't be taking a second brew outdoors.  Why?  Coz it's just a tad warmish at the moment.  Witness:

In the interest of full disclosure... This station has been known to be three or four degrees above other local stations when it comes to temperature reading(s).  Still and even, it could be 99 or 100 or 101 at the moment and I really don't care; once you break into triple digits it's HOT.  We shall now burn some incense and thank The Deity At Hand for central air conditioning.

More Idiots Among Us

It's easy to spot the grade-school dropouts in life.  They're the ones who can't... or won't... color within the lines.

Meh

What am I missing here?



Something?  Anything?

Yet another movie I won't be seeing.  One wonders how Hollywood manages to make any money these days.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

More hippie music...



We heard this on the RTB* leg o' Monday's mini-road trip.  We broke into the biggest o' big-ass grins when the tune came on, recalling as it did road trips o' days past, which is to say during Former Happy Days.  And we sang along, too, seein' as how we know all the words.

About my last, this:  We used to be fond o' sayin' all the best music eventually makes it into the car and stays there.  That statement referred to CDs and I said it a lot before I got XM/Sirius.  These days?  Not so much... not at all, even.  I don't have a single CD in The Tart, not one.  It's all XM, all the time.  That's not a BAD thing, Gentle Reader.

Second observation:  I find that I know all the words to a very large number of songs quite amazing and somewhat disturbing.  How is it that I can recall the lyrics to some obscure song from the 1970s and NOT remember important things, like my grand-children's birthdays?  That's very troubling.

* RTB: return to base 

Олово-фольги Шляпы*

You should read this if you're not aware of the Rooshian media's MH 17 coverage.  Yeah, I know it's TNR, but like Mom said: "even a stopped clock is right twice a day."

* Tin-foil hats

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack...

... makes an early appearance today, mainly coz we CAN.  The Stones:

I'm the man who walks the hillside
In the sweet summer sun
I'm the man that brings you roses
When you ain't got none

Well and I can run and jump
And fish, but I won't fight
You if you want to push
And pull with me all night

That lyric brings to mind this lil episode...

Apropos o' not much... the lady's immediate reaction was "No one has ever bought me roses before!"  Which, I suppose, might could be a comment about the class o' men she hung with before she met YrHmblScrb.  That said, we never did get around to that "push and pull with me all night" thing, even though we tried our BEST.  Insert big-ass sigh here.

Fascinating

A short film on watchmaking:



The micro-scale of the milling machines used to fabricate the gear wheels and such fascinates me, as does the deft touch required to assemble the watch.  It also makes me wonder how Seiko assembles their products.

Apropos o' not much, I quit wearing my greatly-beloved Seiko Lassale watch shortly after I moved in to El Casa Inmóvil De Pennington these three years ago.  The watch is sitting on my nightstand, patiently waiting for me to replace its battery, which may or may not ever happen.

Isn't she a beauty?

I can't bear to get rid of it, though.  We've been through a lot together.

Weird Al's "Mission Statement"

Anyone who's ever had to deal with dumb-ass mission statements will appreciate this:


 
I think Al hit ALL the buzzwords.  Apropos o' not much, on one unfortunate occasion I was tapped to participate in writing a mission statement after yet another in a series of endless corporate reorganizations.  That episode was painful beyond belief, aside from being a flaming waste of time.

No, that wasn't in the Air Force.  But there's this about that:

In Full Unapologetic Ranting Cranky Old Man Mode

So, I read over at The Officers Club (ed: a defunct blog) that the USAF has a new mission statement, to wit:

The Air Force changed its mission statement yesterday. The old MS reads:

The mission of the U.S. Air Force is to is to defend the United States through control and exploitation of air and space.

The new mission reads:

The mission of the United States Air Force is to deliver sovereign options for the defense of the United States of America and its global interests -- to fly and fight in Air, Space, and Cyberspace.

I'll begin with the only good thing about the new mission statement: at least The Management incorporated the old, unofficial mission statement: "To Fly and To Fight." So much for the good stuff.

Let's begin the rant.

Just what the HELL is a "sovereign option?" A military option that's exercised by the United States as a sovereign nation? Meaning we don't have to run it by the UN or France first? There's a good idea! Or options that are above all others, e.g., "superior" or "leading," as opposed to "ill-considered" or "secondary." I certainly HOPE we'd offer the country the best air and space defense options we have, to do less is dereliction of duty. Let's not quibble about words, however, let's just come right out and say it: It's STUPID and obfuscatory. Substituting "...deliver sovereign options for the defense of..." for the previous statement's "defend" makes the USAF sound like the freaking Chicago Board of Trade.

Let's pick a nit: how does one fly in "cyberspace?" Or, for that matter, how exactly do we fight in cyberspace? Networked video games? You can say we engage in space flight, but cyberspace-flight? Who are we trying to kid with this word? Including "cyberspace" in the mission statement isn't cutting edge, guys, it looks like what it is: a failed attempt at being cool. I can just hear it in the E-ring: "Air power is just SO passe on its own, we need something more au courant, something that sings! Let's work 21st century technology into the statement somewhere, OK? Get back to me." And so they did, by using a buzz word from the '90s. Shame on you.

And then there's this: Economy of Expression. Whenever you add 12 words to a sentence to express the same idea, you've taken a GIANT step backward. I personally think the old statement's 23 words was too verbose. 35 freaking words is beyond verbose, it's language-crime.

My last point. Anyone want to hazard a guess how many colonels and generals were tasked with writing the new statement? How much time was spent "staffing" the language and briefing it to the boss? I've played in some of these exercises, albeit at a much lower level, and I can tell you with some certainty the answer is: A LOT.

I could think of lots of better ways to burn cycles. Most of 'em have to do with winning the freaking war. Another good use of time would be convincing the doubters (senior DoD guys, congress) we absolutely need the F/A-22, in the numbers we've asked for. I use "we" because it's still MY Air Force, too.

/rant

And then there's this:

How did I miss this?  Specifically, "New Mexico Department of Workforce Solutions," mentioned in the post immediately below.  "DWS" prolly has sumthin' to do with employment statistics, job opportunities, and the like but one cannot rightly tell from the pompous title.  I was thinkin' any organization with a title like "Workforce Solutions" just had to be ate up with the dumb-ass.  And I was right.  Witness:

The New Mexico Department of Workforce Solutions is a World-Class, market-driven workforce delivery system that prepares New Mexico job seekers to meet current and emerging needs of New Mexico businesses; and ensures that every New Mexico citizen who needs a job will have one; and every business who needs an employee will find one with the necessary skills and work readiness to allow New Mexico businesses to compete in a global economy.

That's their "vision statement," and they also have a mission statement, of course:

Enhance productivity and competitiveness of New Mexico business and industry by improving the quality and availability of the New Mexico workforce. We will accomplish this through a system that offers universal access to lifelong learning based on relevant local and regional labor market needs, via integrated, customer-focused accountable service partnerships. 

We ALL know any gub'mint org and most Fortune 500 companies need vision and mission statements chock-a-bloc with the latest and greatest in biz-school buzz words.  It's just too damned bad those things don't SAY or MEAN any-gotdamned-thing.  I can recall MANY painful hours working in ad hoc task forces chartered to develop such "statements" from my days with Ross Perot's Excellent Data Company... AFTER Mr. Perot left, of course.

"Mission Statements" might just be one o' my biggest hot buttons. 

Is It Ever TOO Late?

To post, that is.  We spent the better part o' our day off the grid, beginning like this:

That would be a sunrise, Gentle Reader, sumthin' we rarely see these days.  We took the pic from inside The Tart, shortly after oh-dark-thirty.  We were gone for about 12 hours and this is what we looked like at the end o' our day:

We killed us some bugs today (click to embigify).  I'm thinkin' it would look a lot worse than this had we not hit that half-hour rain storm on our way back to base.  Bad enough, though... I see a beauty shop appointment in The Tart's immediate future.

And now it's back out to the verandah for our second beer.

Nice Ride!

Does this look familiar?

That would be SN2 and DIL Alisa, standing next to their new-to-them 1990 Corvette.  SN2 called me Friday evening to let me know their latest baby was home and filled me in on all the details.  Which, to wit: a 1990 Vette convertible, 40K miles on the clock, six-speed manual, and the UCR small-block V-8 in its 245 HP iteration.  This is the Vette I SHOULD have bought in the way-back, which is to say a convertible and a six-speed.  The Second Mrs. Pennington wouldn't be denied, however, and we got an automatic, hardtop Vette.  As for the familiarity bits?  This:

TSMP and HER 'Vette, the weekend after we bought her.  On M-25, just south of Harbor Beach, MI.

Nice color!

Forty-Five Years Ago Today

A couple of friends and I watched the landing on a teeny-tiny black and white teevee in a little after-hours bar in Wakkanai, Japan.  In Japanese, since the coverage was on NHK.  Where were you?

Saturday: A Couple o' Things

First, an amateur used car ad from Down Under...




From the "About" section at the Tube O' You:

I'm trying to sell my awesome little car. It's a 1999 Holden Barina. Its not in great condition, but its still a fun little car.

Tweet me an offer using the hashtag #buymybarina. I've also set up a little site for it http://buymybarina.com

(Added later)

This little clip has done so well that we've decided to try and do some good with it.

The Barina will be auctioned for the charity Cancer Council Australia. 

Pretty cool, eh?

And then there's this:



Occasional Readers know I'm not much of a bezbol fan.  But I AM a fan of those who achieve legendary status in their sport, whatever that sport may be, and Mr. Jeter has attained that rank.  Mr. Jordan's bid'niz did a great job with this tribute; well done, Sir.  Very well done.

One Minor Complaint and One Good Thing

We're back to this again.

Just in from yet another trip out to Cannon Airplane Patch to do the usual, customary, and reasonable things: restock the larder and the likker locker.  I need to get a handle on this "eating" thing; it's getting to the point where I spend waaaay more on food than I do on booze and beer.  That said, my monthly food bill is about half of my aggregate spend on booze, beer, and cigars... so mebbe I'm OK, after all.

While we're on about booze... there's still no 18-year old Glenlivet in stock at the Class VI store, which makes a lil over two weeks they've been out of stock.  Add in the fact the Class VI "can't get" Johnnie Walker Green any longer and the fact that Bulleit Rye has gone missing as well all adds up to a significant measure of discontent with the organization.  I suppose I COULD find both of these treats out there on the inter-tubes but the prices, Gentle Reader... the prices.  OTOH, the Class VI's price advantage goes right out the window if my favorite tipples aren't on the shelves.

It's always sumthin'.

In other news... on our way out to Cannon we were struck by how GREEN it is here on THPoNM right now, which is to say greener than I've ever seen it.  We've had well over six and a half inches of rain so far this year, which also makes this year the wettest year in my feeble ol' memory (which would include all 12 of the years I've lived here).  To put that in perspective, our average annual precipitation is only 16.81 inches per year and 8.7 inches of that is snow.  I really should have made a Cheesy Video to show you, Gentle Reader.  Then again, those of you who don't live in arid climes would be much less than impressed.  So there's that.

This Just In...

I was doin' a mid-afternoon check o' our incoming mail and was shocked to see Johnny Winter died yesterday at age 70.  Rolling Stone has a good written tribute to Mr. Winter, these being the first and final grafs:

Legendary blues musician Johnny Winter died in his hotel room in Zurich, Switzerland, on July 16th at 70 years old. There are plenty of reasons why that's notable — Winter was one of the first blues rock guitar virtuosos, releasing a string of popular and fiery albums in the late Sixties and early Seventies, becoming an arena-level concert draw in the process — but it's the barest facts that remain the most inspiring. Johnny Winter, from little Beaumont, Texas, afflicted with albinism and 20/400 eyesight in one eye and 20/600 in the other, made an iconic life for himself by playing the blues.
...

Towards the end of Raisin' Cain, Winter is asked how he'd liked to be remembered. He answered, simply, "As a good blues player."

Johnny Winter was much more than that.

Oh, Hell yes.  His guitar playing was incendiary and he stayed true to the blues throughout his whole career.  He WILL be missed.

 

So... my very favorite Johnny Winter tune:

 

 

It don't get much better than that, if at all.

Well, THIS Is Different

And by "this" I mean this:

The light drizzle is more like a fine mist, but it's the temp we're on about.  I may have to put on a sweatshirt for Happy Hour today, mainly coz we just don't have a very high personal R-value.  I do have to admit these temps feel nice... VERY nice... for mid- to late-July. 

Pretty Cool

Occasional Reader Rob sent this along yesterday...



Computer animation has reached the point where it's pretty danged hard to tell if something's real or if it's Memorex.  That said, one wonders why there aren't any frogs in this vid.

Back on Facebook

Well, sorta.  Today we replaced our old five-dollar Wally-World shower curtain...

With a spiffy new social media shower curtain...

We could have put ourselves in the picture but opted NOT to provide too much information.  Rumor has it this might could be the Obamas' shower curtain, i.e., "lives in Washington D.C.," but I'm quite sure it isn't.

I bought this at Amazon, btw.  Like this.

I didn't buy a cute pink shower cap, though.

It's (Almost) Another Shoebox Day

... but not quite.  The bits by Mia, first:

Which made me think of my dearly departed puppehs, which, in turn, made me think of this post:

Puppies

Apropos of nothing…except for the fact that there’s waaay too many frickin’ cat pictures on these here inter-tubes…here are a few pics of my late, lamented puppies. Late is an understatement: the last of these old ladies left this life back in 1996, well over ten years ago. I’ve been dog-less ever since, mostly because having a dog is semi-incompatible with my lifestyle. Yes, people who live in RVs own dogs. I’m more than aware of the fact. But a dog is a big commitment, and I tend to be commitment-averse these days. Let’s leave it at that… and get on with the biographies. 

First…FiFi La Bonne, otherwise known as The World’s Ugliest Dog. She was a mixed-breed terrier and was so damned ugly she was cute. She was also a hunter extraordinaire, and was one of the few dogs I’ve ever seen who could run down a squirrel and kill it. Which she did about two or three times a year when I lived in Michigan, always making sure to bring The Second Mrs. Pennington and I some sort of trophy from the kill. We really appreciated that, ya know. She was also quite adept at assassinating gophers and moles. The gopher-hunting wasn’t nearly as popular with me, as she tended to dig huge holes in my yard in pursuit of her underground quarries. When I say “huge,” I mean bomb-shelter huge. Large enough for me to drive my riding lawn mower into one of the holes and flip the mower over on its side. That huge.

I wish the above photo of FiFi in the snow was better… she had the strangest habit of burrowing in deep snow, and it was a hoot to watch. She’s pictured after coming up from one such snow-burrowing exercise. FiFi came to live with TSMP and I while we were in Oklahoma (around 1984, or so) and lived with us until 1996, when TSMP put her down due to complications associated with old age.

And then there’s Bōgus Dōgus, who was a Lab/Border Collie cross. TSMP and I got Dogus shortly after we arrived in England in 1980, and she was with us for 16 years. She was my favorite, even though she was TSMP’s dog first and foremost. That dog was crazy… in that she had this “thing” for food. The “thing” being she’d eat anything that wouldn’t eat her first. Anything. Everything. Including, on at least two occasions, an entire loaf of bread… snatched off the table once and out of a bag of groceries another time, and consumed within 45 seconds. The first time she wolfed down a loaf of bread I thought she was gonna explode from the resulting bloat and gas. I had to put her outside until the gas went away, for what should be obvious reasons. But not until such time as she laid at my feet… moaning, farting, and generally making life uncomfortable for everyone within ten feet of her.

This is also the dog who tried to commit suicide by leaping off a bridge in Wales. If we hadn’t had her on a leash she would have died in the fall to the river and it was a near-run thing, anyway. Have you ever tried to pull a strangling dog over a bridge railing? It’s not easy, Gentle Reader. As to why she jumped… I have NO earthly idea. I said she was crazy.

Lastly we have Fritzi Ritz, a German Shepard cross. Crossed with what breed is unknown, but a cross she was…and she was small for a Shepard. Fritzi had all the good traits of a Shepard… intelligence, loyalty, and beauty. She also suffered from hip dysplasia, which eventually got so bad we had to put her down. Fritzi was the alpha female, as might be imagined, and kept the other two dogs in line. The first pic was taken in Oklahoma, the second in Ferndale, MI.

Each dog was a mutt; I’ve never owned a pure-bred dog. Further, two of the three were “rescued” dogs. TSMP was active in a dog rescue organization when we lived in Oklahoma; FiFi and Fritzi arrived in our household via that organization. All three dogs slept in the bed with TSMP and me, and they each had their places…never varying position from night to night. You might think things would get a bit crowded, but it really wasn’t. They were very discreet Old Ladies, too, always being considerate enough to give us our space when it was time for TSMP and me to play. It's a great good thing dogs don't talk. Coz those dogs could have told some stories, Gentle Reader.

This is the fourth time I've posted this old chestnut, having put it up in 2008, 2009, and 2010.  I think we've exceeded the useful life of this post now.  But I STILL miss my puppehs!

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Fleetwood Mac...

You are here and warm,
But I could look away and you'd be gone.
'Cause we live in a time,
When meaning falls in splinters from our minds.
And that's why I've travelled far,
'Cause I come so together where you are.

And all of the things that I said that I wanted
Come rushing by in my head when I'm with you
Fourteen joys and a will to be married
All of the things that you say are very...

Sentimental gentle wind, blowin' through my life again,
Sentimental lady, gentle one.

Ah, Former Happy Days... in more than one than one respect.  This tune is from the Mac's second incarnation, which is my favorite version of the band.  The Mac went through more personnel changes than most other bands but stayed relevant... successful, even... than bands facing the same trials and tribulations.  This is yet another opportunity for me to bemoan my lost vinyl, given all of my Mac albums were on vinyl (and I have them ALL).  It would cost me a small fortune to replace these albums on CD, if that could even be done.  I strongly suspect a lot of these albums are out of print.

Matchbox

Like most guys "of a certain age," I had a rather large collection of these toys as a child.  Here are a couple of vids from Pathé News describing how Matchbox cars were made once upon a time.





I was surprised to find out Matchbox cars are still being made and marketed, albeit not in Britain.  Lesney, the original manufacturers of Matchbox cars, went bankrupt in 1982; Mattel owns the brand now after it changed hands a few times.  The Wiki has everything you could possibly want to know about Matchbox cars and a few things you prolly don't.

H/t:  Hemmings Daily.

Sometimes It's Not Easy

From the Langley-Eustis Joint Base web site:

In loving memory of Senior Airman Prine

Roxanne Prine, mother of the late U.S. Air Force Senior Airman James Prine, accepts the Air Force Achievement Medal from Maj. Ivan Pennington, 1st Aircraft Maintenance Squadron commander, during a memorial service at Langley Air Force Base, Va., July 3, 2014. Senior Airman Prine, a 1st AMXS crew chief, died at the age of 23 in an accidental drowning and is survived by his mother, father, sister and other relatives. (U.S. Air Force photo by Senior Airman Aubrey White/Released)

SN1 and I talked a bit about this last week.  This terrible event happened during Buck's first full week in command and profoundly affected him.  As the post title indicates... sometimes it's not easy.

RIP, SrA Prine.

Ooops

Occasional Commenter Virgil just now admonished us in comments to a post below, thusly:

WHAT!!!??? No Bastille Day celebration? And for a guy who has lived in France?

Shame on you, Buck! (or was your experience in France the reason you're skipping this day? :) ) 

Mea culpa.  This is doubly embarrassing coz I'd thought about this day several days ago, thinkin' "Well, we gotta put sumthin' up about Bastille Day."  And then we woke up this morning with... ahem... a clean slate.

So... better late than never.

There ya go, les enfants de la patrie, go ahead and raise l'étendard sanglant.