Month: November 2021

I have a saying, “What do you expect, it’s Georgia?”, to reflect upon the hundreds of years of racial injustice in that redneck southern state.

Today, something remarkable happened which begins to restore my faith in humanity: a Georgia jury, composed almost entirely of White people, found three White bullies guilty of the unprovoked murder of a Black man who was jogging down a street.

Will wonders never cease!

Absent video evidence of the crime, the three racist goons (one of whom is an ex-law enforcement officer, and another his son) would have surely “walked”, in my opinion. The three perps would have undoubtedly used the Kyle Rittenhouse excuse (“self defense” while creating a confrontation and shooting someone who was unarmed). Who could prove it didn’t happen that way?

In the Rittenhouse matter, the Wisconsin jury winked at the ruse and exonerated the killings, intent on sending a political message. In Georgia, twelve citizens of the Bible Belt did “what Jesus would have done”…honestly called a spade a spade.

Thank goodness for those upstanding folks, whose Georgian ancestors probably discriminated against Black people and silently approved lynchings. Let’s be real: today’s verdict would never have happened 50 years ago, 25 years ago, or maybe even 10 years ago.

As Bob Dylan said, “The times, they are a changin’”.

Change is not swift, but it is inevitable, particularly since there are video cameras in everyone’s pocket, surveillance cameras in stores and on city streets, and the younger generation is more color blind than previous ones. Stupid people commit crimes and it is now easier to determine “who done it”.

I wonder how those Wisconsin jury members feel today, knowing that they have been shamed by their Georgian peers…that they didn’t have the balls to do the right thing. I wonder how they will feel when Rittenhouse, or a wannabe, kills someone else, expecting a free pass for their homicidal urges.

“What do you expect, it’s Wisconsin?”

It’s been an interesting Thanksgiving week thus far.

Our bout with what I call “Covid-21” took some interesting turns this week.

We had an appliance tech come out yesterday to address problems we’ve been having with our 3-year-old Whirlpool washer and dryer combo. After inspection, the tech told us that both suffered from fine dog hair clogging up the washer drain and the dryer vent. We had no idea. It appears that we will need to service them once a year to keep this problem at bay.

Who knew?

This prompted me to think about our HVAC filters, the nasty “allergic rhinitis” issue that we’ve been dealing with since we came back to Mesquite in October. I realized that I hadn’t changed those filters in a long time…shame on me! So, I got my ladder out and checked out the filters…which were filthy, to say the least. All of that crap in the atmosphere from the fires and blowing desert winds. I replaced them with the most expensive filters that Walmart sells, the $25 ones that can screen out allergens.

Probably overkill but, dammit, we’re tired of coughing and hacking up gobs of green goo.

Later in the day, I went to our doctor to discuss the hacking and wheezing that we’ve suffered from for six weeks. The first thing the nursing aide asked me was, “Have you checked your HVAC filters?” What a dope I am!!!

Anyway, our malady has now progressed into bronchitis, according to the physician’s assistant. She put us on a 10-day regime of antibiotics to stop this thing from evolving into something worse. Thank you, Jesus, maybe I can now get some sleep!

Speaking of medical issues, yesterday was also the day that the pooches needed to see the vet for their periodic anal gland expressions. Lo and behold, BonBon once again was loaded with a thick goop, the kind that progressed into impacted hard stones in September when we were in So Calif. That time, the gland had to be lanced and it was a shitty mess, to say the least.

So it seems that we are either going to have to repeat this expression exercise each month ($20) or have those pesky glands removed surgically.

Speaking of dog things, when I was sitting in the vet’s waiting room, I met a gal (actually a neighbor that I didn’t know) who works for an animal rescue agency here in Mesquite. She happened to mention that the rescue group is taking in a 1-year-old French Bulldog this week. I said, “Wow, they’re almost as cool as Boston Terriers!” Anyway we got to talking about the dog and I said that I was intrigued, that maybe Charlie and would be interested. So, the lady hooked up with the rescue coordinator over the phone, handed it to me, and we talked. It turned out to be that the dog is actually a brown and white Boston Terrier, not a Frenchie. “Ooooooh”, I said.

Not that we need more dogs in our home, but we do love our Bostons. So, I came home and talked to Charlie about it. She is apprehensive, as I am, because our two dogs are a perfect match, get along so well together, and are trained to travel in the RV and stay alone for up to 5 hours by themselves if we have to run extended errands. The potential addition would have to be a good fit in our “pack”: no aggression; no barking; no chewing on our stuff; no digging; no running off; and, no bullying of the other two.

The dog, named “Vinnie”, is an unneutered male. We have two females. So, we would not even foster him until he was fixed, which is supposed to occur in the next few weeks before the agency finds him a home.

Anyway, call us idiots, but we are going to interview Vinnie on Friday and make cursory assessment. We might introduce him to our girls and see if any fireworks fly. It’s probably a 90/10 probability that we’ll pass on him. However, you never know with dogs: sometimes they have your heart at “Hello”. If we were to take a chance on him, it would be in a “fostering” mode for a while, like a new employee on probation: “You crap your pants, there’s the door!”

We took a chance on another dog many years ago. He was a 3-year-old Boston named “JayJay”. He’d had a shitty life up to that point. We agreed with Boston Buddies to baby sit him for a weekend. He almost immediately bonded with our 1-year-old Boston “Booger”, and there was no way that we weren’t going to keep him. He turned out to be an outstanding dog, a real charmer, and Booger’s BFF for ten years. Maybe we’ll get lucky with Vinnie?

Speaking of good fortune, my sister Claudia met her squeeze Ted Brenner many years ago when she was purchasing a home in Temecula and, as luck would have it, was introduced to the homeowners’ son (Ted). They hit it off immediately and have been together ever since. What lucky people: they seem to be a perfect match, like to do the same quirky things, and are enjoying everything that life has to offer while holding hands and laughing. I am so happy for the both of them.

They visited us this week and we caught up on things. Claudia and Ted have developed a passion for going to estate sales and finding bargains and treasures. Claudia typically looks for home design items and Ted is on the lookout for mechanical stuff. They’ve flipped one house already and have remodeled their current home into a showplace. What fun they’re having!

Charlie and I are planning some fun of our own in the next month or so. We will be RV’ing down to Yuma to visit our friends, Peggy and Dan Quinn, at Christmastime. Then, in January, we will fly down to the Yucatan Penninsula in Mexico to visit our good friend Lloyd Chartrand and see his new home in Progreso. That is…if we don’t expire from “Covid-21”.

UPDATE: On the day after Thanksgiving, we all met “Vinnie”. Slam dunk, we’re taking him!! Charlie liked him at “Hello”, and our two mutts played with him like they’d known each other for years.

He’s about BonBon’s size, he’s friendly, and he’s playful. He also has some acorn-sized testicles which will be removed before we take possession of him in a few weeks.

Three young Boston Terriers raising havoc in our home: Katie, bar the door!

Last week’s vindication of Kyle Rittenhouse’s reckless and murderous behavior by a Wisconsin jury is no surprise, given the downward spiral of American morality.

Rittenhouse is the teenager who, during the Black Lives Matter protests vis a vis Jacob Blake’s 2019 murder by police, armed himself with an assault rifle, crossed state lines, wandered into the street protests brandishing his weapon, got accosted by unarmed protesters, felt threatened, and decided to shoot several. Two died and one survived.

The jury decided that Rittenhouse was innocent of all charges, based upon the assertion that he felt that his life was in mortal danger, thus justifying his actions.

Of course, Rittenhouse was not in mortal danger at his home. He drove across state lines to put himself in danger and brought an military-grade weapon with him. He waded into the protest/riot evidently looking for confrontation. The fellows that he shot down were not armed. After the shootings, he was allowed by police to leave the crime scene, with the murder weapon in his hands, not facing charges or even a grilling down at police headquarters.

If this isn’t a crime, what is???

Let’s be honest, my fellow Americans: Had this been a Klu Klux Klan rally, and a Black man had done the same thing as Rittenhouse, the perpetrator would have either: (1) been summarily executed by police; or, (2) would have been charged, convicted, and been sent to death row. No question: we all know it to be true.

Let’s also be honest about what actually happened here: the jury was sending a message, loud and clear, about Black Lives Matter protests and about anyone who has the courage to stand up to “The Man”, the law and order establishment, and pointy-headed liberal do-gooders.

Unfortunately, this jury verdict will have the effect of empowering the gun-happy imbeciles and militia goons who are itching to mete out street justice to anyone who annoys them for political, religious, or racial reasons.

More and more jurisdictions are allowing such folks to conceal or openly carry guns for “personal protection”. Given that there will now be more Rittenhouses wandering the streets, looking for trouble, and escalating minor beefs into life-threatening situations simply because one guy is packing a gun, this latest development is a recipe for societal disaster. Katie, bar the door!

America has vastly more privately-held guns than any other country in the world, and we have vastly more gun-related deaths per capita than any other country. And this was before the Rittenhouse murder/manslaughter acquittals.

The law enforcement officers who we pay to protect our communities from crime are governed by policies regarding appropriate tactics when encountering trouble, “use of lethal force”, “discharge of a deadly weapon”, and such. They are not allowed (legally) to go looking for trouble and spraying troublemakers with lead without justification.

At those Kenosha protests/riots, the police in attendance didn’t feel adequately threatened to use deadly force. The untrained, adventure-seeking Rittenhouse, who waded into the same chaos with a personal agenda, reacted impulsively and violently. He could have simply turned around and left the chaotic scene if he felt in danger. He chose, instead, to kill people.

As far as I know, not one state in our Nation has laws that convey the death penalty for free speech, demonstrations, or even throwing a brick at a government building. Even overturning a police car and burning it is not a capital crime, subject to execution. However, in Rittenhouse’s world, and perhaps in the jury’s warped understanding of “law and order”, anti-establishment types are suitable subjects for extermination by private citizens without benefit of trial (like the one Rittenhouse received).

If the rules are to be changed like this, to afford right-wing idiots the right to thin the herd at their whim, it won’t be long before left-wing fanatics begin to replace their bullhorns and placards with guns, grenades, bombs, and worse to match their opponents’ firepower.

A second Civil War could be just down the road a bit.

It boggles the mind.

I am getting tired of being sick!

For about one month now, I have been suffering from a dry cough. Charlie has it, too. We haven’t had a good night’s sleep in many weeks, despite cough and cold remedies.

It’s not Covid-19, according to the doctors (I’m triple-innoculated and I’ve been tested, as well), but rather, they say, some sort of allergic malady of unknown origin. Since my wife has it as well, then I’m speculating that it is due to some environmental cause that hasn’t been here (in Mesquite) for the past three years…because we’ve never experienced anything like it. Our neighbor Sherri Carnicelli has been suffering from this mysterious malady for several months, as well.

I have a theory that might account for all of this.

Recall that there were fierce forest fires in Northern California and Southern Oregon during the Summer which created enormous clouds of smoke that drifted eastward as far as Kentucky. We were vacationing in Southern Oregon during those months when the fires were out of control and we had to drive for two days, in thick smoke, to return to Mesquite, Nevada.

Way back when I was 12 years old, our family lived in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California. The dense redwood forest that we lived in was thick with poison oak, and occasionally some doofus would gather up a pile of the stuff and burn it, dispersing the poisonous oil in the wind, and it would create a health problem for neighbors.

I’m wondering if all of that recent forest fire smoke, which we drove through and which was blotting out the sun in Nevada when we returned home, carried with it some allergens that settled out in our area and which gets whipped up into the air whenever we get strong breezes?

Our neighbor Sherri and husband Galen also vacationed in Oregon (with us) and drove through that smoke on their way home…about a month before we returned.

Sherri has had the same allergic rhinitis that we have for a month longer than us.

Coincidence?

I have been a very healthy guy for the past 73 years, so being tormented by this plague is a new experience for me. Being sick SUCKS.

Let’s hope it’s not Covid-21.

Charlie and I have become addicted to a “reality” show called Homestead Rescue, of which there are about eight seasons worth of shows on Discovery Channel streaming.

Like a lot of cable shows featuring plain folks going about their lives and dealing with life’s problems, this endeavor appears to be “real” but is actually staged for effect. Nonetheless, the stars of the show (the Raney family members)…i.e. the rescuers…are an interesting group and are very ingenious and big-hearted.

Every episode features a husband and wife, and sometimes their children, who are trying to live off the grid (e.g. no utilities, self-sustaining) in the boondocks…and are failing. Some are in dire straits and some just need some Raney know-how to solve critical issues.

Most of the rescues involve homesteaders who have made poor choices in purchasing their property. It is hard to believe that anyone would put their life savings into the purchase of land that has no water, no access, and is prone to natural disasters like floods and tornadoes and subject to predation by coyotes, mountain lions, and/or bears. It is also difficult to comprehend anyone without basic construction, agronomy, and hunting skills attempting to “live off the land”. And yet there are apparently thousands of these clueless knuckleheads attempting to scrape out an existence in the remote forests and parched badlands of America.

After watching a couple of dozen episodes, it is apparent that succeeding off-grid in the boondocks is a fruitless exercise unless one has access to donated heavy equipment and construction materials. In virtually every episode, the desperate and hapless property owners are miraculously rescued when the Raney clan magically secures the use of a quarter-million-dollar excavator or thousands of dollars of windows, 2×4’s, Conex shipping containers or other essential items needed to essentially “turn water into wine” just happen to materialize in the property’s junk pile.

Charlie likes the characters (the rescuers and the rescues) while I like the creative problem-solving that the Raneys bring to the failing homestead. Regardless of where and how the materials are sourced, the ingenious way that the Raneys solve homestead dilemmas harkens me back to lessons learned in math and earth science classes. I am certainly not mechanically-inclined or creative but, after watching the series for a while, I can envision myself McGuyvering solutions to water and power inadequacies, building cabins, hunting to provide fresh meat, and farming to put veggies on the table.

One thing that I don’t understand is WHY people would choose to live like this.

Sure, it is pretty out in the mountains (note: I’ve done it) and it is possible, with money and a lot of skills (and Raney help) to survive off grid, but it is just an existence, at best. Civilization is not advanced by living in this manner, even if “successful”. Basically, these folks are just turning the clock back a couple hundred years and, in some cases, encouraging their children to do the same.

At the end of every episode, the rescued homesteaders are elated by electricity, water, sewer, shelter, road, and security improvements engineered by the Raney rescue team.

Of course, they had all of those amenities before they chose to move to the wilderness, because mankind strived for thousands of years to create “the grid”.

What is accomplished by tossing that progress into a dumpster?

Our youngest son Jonathan (51-years-old) left here today to fly back to his home in Kentucky. We will miss him.

Jon and his wife Misty came to see us a couple of weeks ago. Misty stayed two days before flying home to get back to work. Our son, who is Charlie’s business partner, remained in Mesquite to help with some fix-it chores, talk to his mother about business, and do some golfing with me. We had a great time.

We couldn’t be prouder of what Jonathan has become: a smart, hard-working man of many talents who is a good husband, parent, and doting grandparent. He was once a cabinetmaker who had his own business in Murrieta, California before the Great Recession wiped out ninety percent of the woodworking firms in our area of Southern California. Luckily for him, Charlie’s bookkeeping and tax service company was thriving and she needed help, so Jonathan pitched in, learned the ropes, and became a godsend for his mother. As the years have gone by, our son has become very skilled in this trade and is now doing most of the day-to-day work of Charlie Manning Bookkeeping. The Southern California billing rate is twice what he could earn in Kentucky, so Jonathan is making the most out of the remote working site in Lexington.

Jonathan is a tough guy; I guess that, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”.

He was the youngest of four sons and, accordingly, was taken advantage of by his brothers, bullied, and put down at every opportunity.

This is not uncommon with younger siblings, as I can confirm: my older brother Terry treated me like his footstool until my teens. As a result of Jonathan’s ordeal as a youngster, he had very low self-esteem as a high schooler and young adult. He also had poor judgment, as he let a very young girlfriend goad him into marriage (and three children) before he reached drinking age.

Divorce, drug abuse, and depression characterized his life before his biological father, Alex Heim, invited him to come up to Montana and learn the cabinetmaking business. It saved his life, because he learned a valuable skill, his self-confidence soared, and he met his future wife Misty…who may be the hardest-working person I’ve ever known (including Jonathan, who is no slouch).

Our son will admit that he wasn’t much of a father the first time around, when he was too young, lacked self-confidence, and had an explosive temper. He’s done a lot better with Misty and their child, Autumn, and has become a doting grandparent to Autumn’s son Killian. The whole family (Jon, Misty, Autumn, Killian, Autumn’s boyfriend, his 11-year-old son Dustin, and Misty’s mother) all live in one large house in Lexington, Kentucky and seem to be doing fine. Jonathan has definitely mellowed in the past decade or so.

Jonathan is a smart guy, a very quick learner, and adept with the newest digital technology. This is invaluable, because his mother and business partner, Charlie, is fading mentally (at 76 years old!) and her attention span isn’t what it used to be. So, our son is the perfect guy at the right time in our lives, kind of like the knight in shining armor coming to the rescue of the damsel in distress. His intelligence and patience with his Mom are invaluable.

Jon is also an excellent golfer (single-digit handicap) and bowler (210 average). I taught him how to golf and he taught me how to bowl. He can now whip my 74-year-old ass at both. Youth will be served.

We played two rounds of golf during his visit, one at Oasis Canyons G.C. and the other, yesterday, at Conestoga G.C., both Mesquite courses. Jonathan wiped me out by at least 10 strokes yesterday, but we had fun. We finished the day, his last here in town, with a nice teppanyaki meal at Samurai 21, one of the only decent restaurants in Mesquite.

Jonathan plans to return to Mesquite in the early Summer, while we are off RV’ing, with some Kentucky golf buddies who’ve never experienced the Southwest and its many visually-interesting desert courses. He can also show off our outdoor TV room, which we have renamed “Jon’s Man Cave”, where he made a habit of watching movies, sports, and playing fetch with the dogs.

We’re looking forward to his next visit: it can’t come soon enough for the pups, who miss him already.