A Quitter in action

Many of you know that I used to work construction. Masonry construction, specifically, brick, block, mortar, you know. I wasn't very good at the job. Now I work in distribution and I'm not very good at that either. For a brief time I tried light manufacturing and I wasn't good at that. I'm not really sure what I should do with the rest of my life, good thing I am almost old enough to retire, soon I will run out of options.... That isn't what I wanted to talk about today.

Today I want to talk about a specific incident of my construction career. Bricklayers are notorious for a belief in their rugged individualism. Almost a John Wayne, Charlton Heston aura. At least many I worked with. They carried rifles in their pickups, and owned horses, spit wads of tobacco, and screamed like angry savages.

One of the men I worked for was kind of cheap. He had an old forklift, heavy, tall, and prone to failure. And an old flatbed truck that used to be a Coca-Cola delivery vehicle. He had the back ripped off and a wooden bed installed. It made the bed a little higher than a standard flatbed, but it was a lot cheaper, and a lot older than most and a lot more likely to suffer from things like brake failure.  I hated that truck.

Another thing he did to save money was load his old, tall, heavy forklift right on the bed of his truck. This saved him from having to buy a trailer. But, it made for a terrifying ride, with all that height and weight every pothole, turn and bump seemed destined to topple the truck and kill the passengers. I hated that truck even more when the forklift was on it.

One day we were getting ready to start building a fast food place in a town about 50 miles away. We loaded all of the things we could in the pickup. Drove the forklift down to the rail yard, up onto the platform and onto the back of the truck. It was really the only practical place to do it, and it was unused, had been for years, and only about a mile from the shop.

We got back, loaded everything else precariously around the forklift, chained it all down securely, and started drinking some beer. And then some more beer.

About 7:00 that evening we were all pretty happy, and the beer was almost gone. As we were ready to call it a day, go home and get ready for a new job site one of the tires on the back of the truck just gave up. It exploded, it sounded like a bomb had gone off. There were two tires on each side, and the other one on the same side popped in what had to be a show of solidarity.

With all that weight, height, and sudden motion the truck, forklift, mixer, shovels and equipment all toppled over. It was a terrible sound of screaming, twisting iron and cracking, splintering wood, and made a thunderous crash when it hit. The ground shook with the anger of the weight.

We stood there looking, not knowing what to do next. My boss walked calmly over to his pickup, got his rifle and put the forklift and the truck out their misery, one clean shot to each. We shared a cigarette in solemn remembrance, and then I told him I quit. I didn't want to have to clean that mess up.

Intelligent Life, Maybe, They Know how to Rock.

Recently several members of the Life Explained Department of Theoretical Exploration were attempting to calculate the odds against intelligent life existing elsewhere in the universe.  Of course, this led to the inevitable debate regarding the lack of intelligent life on Earth.  Which, naturally led to some good natured teasing, a few foolish, harmless slurs, a couple of hurtful, intentionally cruel barbs, a slap, then an uppercut, a knife brandished menacingly, several shots fired wildly, and the custodian bursting into the room and threatening to "bust open a few heads unless all you all stop acting like a bunch of idiots."  At that point everyone stopped, went back to their lunches and acted as though they had some sense.

Dr. Dawg, and I decided to answer the question once and for all.  We configured the Time Machine for deep space travel, and took off for the hippest, happening places in the far reaches of the universe.  We came across a few places that looked promising, but after listening to the radio stations playing nothing but top 40 pop, over and over again, we decided to keep looking.

Flying through the Woodstock Nebula we came across a station playing Before You Accuse Me, the blues influenced rock and roll classic from Credence Clearwater Revival.  By the time they hit the bridge, we were dancing and singing, and making fools of ourselves, in the tiny, cramped cockpit of our recently converted spaceship.  We decided to stop, and have a frosty one with the crazy cats on the planets surface.

And they were great.  The music was being blasted from a small tavern on the outskirts of a huge settlement, called One, it was the first city founded on the planet, and the inhabitants thought that was a good way to keep track of things.

The natives in the bar looked almost human, but not quite, they were a little shorter, kind of pale and seemed to be a little nervous, but who could blame them?  They were hosting a space traveling dog, and his freakishly handsome sidekick (me).

So, we came home, and we can answer, there is beer. I am not sure about intelligent life, but, we probably wouldn't recognize it if it borrowed our car.

I have a cold beer with me.

It was such a nice day yesterday we decided to stop for a few drinks at the local beer garden. A festive, free flowing party that wraps around the side and front of the Eager Eagle bar. At the corner where the front meets the side is a small stage, and a band was playing ragtime music. People were tapping their feet, drinking frosty mugs of delicious beer, and everybody was smiling.

It was bright, and cheerful, and the whole world seemed a happier place. Bowls of hot, buttery, salted popcorn sat by pots of unshelled peanuts making the beer taste even better. It was a Monday to remember. But, nothing lasts forever.

I decided to use the restroom, Walking in, the dark was almost complete after the blazing, warmth of the cleansing sunlight. There was something a little sinister, a little spooky about the gloom.

A little spooky until I saw someone standing there in the darkness. A still form from some dark pit, not moving, a dark figure, from a dark place. Then it got really scary.

This guy was just standing in the darkness, not moving, and it was almost certain he was staring at me.

A few quick mental calculations. He seemed to be about 7 to 9 feet away, roughly my size, and his posture, and stillness convinced me he was going to try something.

"Fine," I thought, "I'll let him throw the first punch, It would probably be from my left. To my right was a metal waste basket. Dodging his punch, I would grab the waste basket, hammer him over the head, which would force him to my left, his right, where I could grab the stall door, and smash it into his falling form. When he tried to to stand upright I would turn on the forced air hand dryer, and the noise would confuse his rattled mental condition. Giving me time to squirt some hand sanitizer (I tell everybody about the dangers of hand sanitizers but they don't listen) on the floor causing him to slip and fall in a sobbing pile of regret. I would be free to use the restroom wash my hands and be on my way.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw it was a mirror, and I was staring at myself. I felt a little foolish. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else." I said, joking with myself.

"You're lucky," My reflection said in a threatening tone, and threw the reflection of the metal waste basket at me.

"I have to stop planning everything so carefully." I thought to myself, throwing a decorative hand
towel holder at myself as I ducked the waste basket. The sudden, violent movement caused me to hit my forehead on the door.

"Dang, that hurt," my reflection said, as the towel holder hit him right above the eye. He dropped to his knees, cursing softly.

"Hey, how about I buy you a drink, And we call a truce." I said to myself.

I agreed and we went and had a couple of beers together. People looked at us a little strange, it may have been the bump on my forehead, or the cut above my eye.

The next day at work we got twice as much done. I am really something.

Life Explained, Insures America

We, here at Life Explained, Ohio have decided to branch out a little. We have some free time waiting for the election cycle to end and the new president to decide the most reasonable way to peace is the ostentatious ability to destroy your enemies, friends, neighbors and anybody else foolish enough to commit the unthinkable, whatever that is, nobody really wants to think about it too much. Sooner or later they all come to the same place, we need more firepower, lots of it. And a way to get that power to the place that it will do the most peaceful destruction, that is when they come to us.

But, for now, nobody wants to stock up on destruction. So we are opening a little side business. We are going to sell Life Explained Insurance. Insurance for those inexplicable things in life. Things that should never happen. Life Explained Calamity Coverage.

If you are at the baseball game and the foul fly ball lands in your nachos, ruining your polo shirt, plaid shorts and foam finger indicating the numerical significance of your team, and spilling the beer that costs more than your first two cars don't worry. You're covered. There will be an agent in the ball park to buy you a new tray of cheesy, delicious molten lava with jalapeno rings, and corn chips. A new finger, shirt and shorts, and a beer. Just think of how nice you will look, parading around like a real dude in all those new duds.

You're hungry, so you stop for a big bag of burritos. In your zeal to get home and start wolfing them down you drive off leaving the whole bag on the top of your car, only to watch in horror as they fall off and are ground into paste as the tractor trailer carrying a huge piece of earth moving equipment rumbles over them. That is not a problem. We will have ATM like machines in every fast food chain in the country. Just input a picture of your destroyed treasure, and scan your receipt and the machine will print out a voucher for the total replacement cost of your once beloved food.

Let's face it, grilling is impossible, throw in a few beers and you might as well serve the charcoal. And steak is expensive, just text us a photo of your latest destruction, and we will send over someone who can tame the wild flames. They will have replacement steaks, and valium to calm your frayed, smoke covered nerves.

We all know life is filled with moments not covered under most major medical plans, term or whole life insurance policies, home owners, renters, or automotive insurance, or charity organizations. Life Explained is here to fill the gap, for a price. Money is not important though, the precious minutes of life, and food, those are the things that count.

Email us today for a quote, you won't regret it, probably, not very much anyway.

Life Explained, the Christmas Party.

We, here at Life Explained, Ohio Office (LEOhiO) are very excited. It is almost time for our Christmas Party Extraordinaire. Every year it is huge. And we always seem to come up with some great stories.

Six years ago, for example, we used frozen rocks from the surface of Mars for our drinks. Martian Rocks from the surface of Mars for drinks! It was great. Unfortunately all of that talk about Life on Mars turned out to be true. And it turned out to be lying dormant on the surface of the rocks. When exposed to good bourbon it was reinvigorated, grew to human sized proportions, and went on a drunken binge. It destroyed the kitchen, the lunch room, the copier, the microwave and the executive restroom before we managed containment.

We managed it to sell it to the Pentagon for a tidy profit, even after we replaced the bourbon. Last we heard the Martian life form had been promoted to Colonel, and was running a supply base in the Caribbean somewhere. He still sends us Christmas cards.

Then last year Bob, from Acquisitions had too much Pinot Noir, and started to walk around pretending he was a drunk from the past. He put a lamp shade on his head, and paraded around singing what we thought was White Christmas.

But, he forgot to take the lamp out from underneath the lamp shade. The lamp, and base, and lampshade made Bob about 9 foot tall. Our doors are 8 foot high, so when he hit the part of the wall over the door, the glass base exploded, slicing into the electric cord. Sparks were flying everywhere. It set Bob's sweater on fire, and we poured a pitcher of Sangria over the top of him to extinguish the flames. Since he wrapped up in the cord (we are adamant about teaching "stop, drop and roll" before every party) the liquid shorted out the electrical system for the whole building.

When this bought down NORAD, and grounded all of the AWAC planes all over the Northern Hemisphere (don't ask, we are not allowed to tell you) we got a pretty angry call from the Chairman of The Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"Next time you morons have a party and don't tell me you can expect a few party crashers from Seal Team Six." he said. That would be awful, those guys don't know how to mix a drink to save their lives. And forget about having any Nachos, Seals are voracious around cheese covered chips.

Anyway, the party is next week, and we are sending Bob, from HR back in time to get some French wine, and German beer. It will be great.

The Secret History Of Labor Day, at least it was a secret.

With the approach of the three day weekend we, here at Life Explained, would like to wish you a happy Labor Day. It was not that long ago that we, here at Life Explained, invented Labor Day.

It had been a long, hot summer, and we had been killing ourselves to catch up. We had a pocketful of change, a powerful thirst, and a strong desire for grilled food. But, things were so busy, and we were so far behind.

Then it hit us, why not initiate a three day weekend. No matter how far behind you are, how busy things have gotten, no matter how overwhelmed, nobody expects anybody to work on a three day weekend. It's in the constitution somewhere. Right between bearing arms and equality. Look it up.

So, we started calling and emailing everybody we knew, "hey, what do you have planned for Labor Day?" People will never admit ignorance, and soon all of the people we had emailed and called were calling and emailing, texting and facebook messaging everybody they knew.

"Hey, what do you have planned for Labor Day?"

And nobody would say, "nothing, I've never heard of that."


Our government will never admit ignorance either. So they backdated a bunch of official documents, and memorandum giving credit to some long past official, who knows who.


Now, thanks to our culture of delusion everybody "remembers" ancient Labor Days with their families from years ago. But, really it only started in 1998, because we wanted beer and bratwurst, thank goodness we only use our power for good.   You can thank us later.

Life Explained, Helping Make the Best Of Your Day.

A "no-win" situation arises when any course of action will result in an untenable situation. It is a situation that is so distasteful that the best that can be hoped for is not being the worst loser. In general a person should avoid any encounter that ends with a "no-win" resolution.

A "win-win" situation on the other hand is a problem where everybody wins. Which is much nicer, unless you happen to be what is called a "sore winner" who not only enjoys "the thrill of victory" but relishes watching somebody else suffer through "the agony of defeat." In that case a "win-win" is really just a "no-win" in disguise. Really, there are no hard and fast rules about winning in life, and in most situations there is something lost and something gained.

Fortunately, there are times, and occurrences that make for a much wider margin of unsatisfactory victory.

Working from home is a good way to strike a blow for freedom, or at least a short, unsatisfactory furlough. While it may not have all of the comforts of home... wait, I guess it does. It may not be perfect, but it does have advantages over working from work.

• The commute is much shorter. Some people can get from their bedroom to the television in a few seconds.
• There is a much more casual dress code when working from home. Pajamas are acceptable at home but not always appropriate for the office. Be careful about video conferencing before the first attempt at personal hygiene. Uncombed hair, and a Batman robe will not help your next evaluation. 
• It is a great time to catch up on household chores. The last three seasons of whatever show you are trying to watch, for example. Or finally getting a chance to play a video game without those punk kids around to stomp you into a hopeless sense of despair.
• Naps are much more successful at home.
• You can save your sick days and do something fun.
• None of those pesky "have you been drinking?" questions to interrupt your groove.*

Life is filled with opportunities to lose in satisfactory, appealing ways. Take advantage of each, but when you need that lift that only a small, meaningless victory to make it through another day come to us, here at "Life Explained, Life Coaching for the Average Man."

* You might want to quit answering the phone and responding to emails after your 4th beer.

Your Government, a Work in Progress, well maybe progress, and work, are not the right words.

Ben Affleck mentioned Batman while appearing before the Senate Appropriations Subcommittee.  People seemed surprised that he would, with such ease, drop the caped crusaders name while testifying before congress.  Perhaps, they were worried he would dilute the Dark Knight’s brand by discussing the franchise in such a hostile, divisive, unproductive place.

No one seems too surprised that Ben Affleck, an actor, was testifying before the Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on State, Foreign Operations and Related Programs.  Or, that he mentioned Batman to Vermont senator Patrick Leahy, who is such a big fan of the movie series he has managed to land a few bit parts in several of the films, and, will be appearing with Affleck in “Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice.”

No one seemed surprised the Patrick Leahy was using his influence as a congressperson to land a bit part in an action film.  At least, being an elected official would leave plenty of time to pursue an acting career.  Imagine the thrill when the first member of congress receives an Oscar, it will probably not be for any sort of "best supporting" role.

Turns out Affleck founded the “Eastern Congo Initiative” and advocacy group focused on helping communities in Eastern Congo.  There is no formal explanation of the nature of his testimony.  One can only assume he was attempting to marshal support for his cause.

Maybe, though, he was there to familiarize himself with the “workings” of congress, for a future role.  Maybe, that role is elected federal official. 

And, just maybe, that is not a role.  Maybe, noticing the success Senator Leahy has had glad handing his way into Mr. Affleck’s world of fictional characters performing impossible feats of unbelievable daring, and bravado, the Academy Award winning actor feels it is a street that runs both directions. 

Patrick Leahy as the new Robin, and Ben Affleck as the new Chairman of the Ways and Means Committee.  

“Holy Crap, Batman, H. R. 4457 will provide much-needed certainty for beer distributors and their small brewer partners, as well as incentivizing investment, and job growth, we need to act fast.”

Super heroes for congress, somebody should have thought of this a long time ago.  You can thank us later.

Attracting Fans, Difficulties and Rewards

NFL Stadiums are looking for unique, entertaining diversions to attract fans.  Pleasantries to bring people out of the comforts of their homes in to huge arenas filled with strangers.  It is perplexing, attracting people to these giant monstrosities, parking miles away, standing in long lines to enter, exit, and waiting for hours in your car to drive home.  If only there were a competition, some sort of game being played in the center of the arena.  What?  There is, you say?  Oh, then what is the problem?

It seems the average ticket price into an NFL game is $84.83 which is kind of pricey.  So, that could be part of the problem.  If you have a family of four and you are fortunate to earn middle class wages that is a huge part of your budget.  Well, at least it only costs $10.00 for parking.

But, once you are inside you can immerse your little family in the total experience.  It will only cost you $5.00 for a soft drink, or popcorn, and $8.00 for a beer, or a hot dog.  But, the service is so extraordinary that the budget busting prices won't seem extravagant.  Just kidding, you will probably stand in line long enough to watch your clothes go out of style.

Your seats are liable to be uncomfortable, with enough leg room for a child, and in the center of a long row, so every time you need to get out everybody will be inconvenienced and worried about spilling a hundred dollars of food and drinks.  And, it will be the same when you return.

Of course, there is the game, which might be so far away that you might not be able to tell which team is which, (think Tecmo Bowl, who has the ball, or what everybody is cheering about.  And, even if you can see well enough to enjoy the game your legs will cramp from being folded into such an awkward way, and your fingers will cramp from trying to hold a drink, a snack, and all of the prohibitively expensive souvenirs you bought,(possibly a mortgage payments worth) and live in terror of losing of destroying.

What can they do to attract more fans?  It is a puzzle, wrapped inside a riddle, tied up with a question, and tossed into a trunk of troubling doubt.  What do you think they should do.  The best suggestion will get an honorable tweet, with the #bestsuggestion.  I know, it is such an honor.

Football, so good we need two.

Mike Raven, curator of The Blog of Thog. and I are going to try to sway public opinion, convincing everybody in the whole world, or at least the very wise portion that read blogs, particularly the geniuses who read our blogs that one brand of football is better than the other.  I am speaking for the American Brand of Football, and +Mike Raven will be representing the rest of the world.

American Football is so advanced because the entire country is filled with experts.  Every Saturday and Sunday, in millions of homes across this huge country, and in select military bases and bastions of civilization, around the world people are screaming instructions, and helpful advice at television sets.

We all know, deep inside, the officials, who have been hand picked from the ranks of the lower levels of competition, have trained for years and continue training and education year around, and are trying to make snap decisions regarding barely visible potential infractions are so biased they should end the charade and wear the other teams colors.  It is amazing our team can ever win a game the way the refs stack the odds against them.

Off we go, beer and pizza, and back to the game.  And it is obvious this coach that our university, city or state has mortgaged its soul to lure to our team is an idiot.  Sure, he can diagram plays that look like hieroglyphics, understands complex systems and schemes, and can speak at length about defenses and the best way to attack them.  Yes, he has won at every level, and brought home numerous championships.  But, now he seems to be slipping into dementia.  What an idiot.

Back to the kitchen for chicken wings, a few beers, maybe some nachos.  You know what mystifies the average American Football fan?  The way these athletes, who have trained, and conditioned since they were little children, and have managed to become the greatest football players in the world can be so incompetent.  The average fans grandmother could throw a better pass than that, and she is in a wheelchair, and has never even thrown a football.

So, as you can see, Mr. Raven, American Football is superior because the entire country is filled with experts. More honest than the refs, smarter than the coaches and more talented than the players.  With all of that ability in one country what else would you expect?

Thank you,

America

Wearable Tech, and the Future.

Working, as we have with, so many diverse technologies, we here, at Life Explained, are in a perfect position to evaluate the potential benefits of the new wearable technology.  We have even launched a line of Life Explained, headgear.  It will be true a multitasking, multimedia mega useful hat.

We introduce, with great pride, the Life Explained, Propeller Beanie, Urban Assault Hat. The ultimate wearable tech available today.

Hooking up to a 5 horsepower, two cycle engine carried in an insulated, sound muffling, asbestos lined back pack, this baby will whip you through the air at an altitude of 150 feet, at a speed of 45 miles an hour.

Equipped with two AGM-65 Maverick Missiles you will be more than prepared to handle pushy, aggressive jay walkers . Pesky door to door salesman a problem?  Neighbors will applaud as you blast their car into pieces too small to sweep up and carry away.

If that were not incentive enough, the twin GAU-8 Avenger 30 MM canister fed machine guns that will help clear the air at the next company picnic.  You won't be waiting in line for the bratwurst, or beer ever again.

Future upgrades will include a radar dish, radio, and a beverage cart.

Buy one for yourself, give one as a gift, heck give one to every member of your family.  You will be a hero, a well armed, lethal, hero, whizzing through the air, dispensing justice, fairness, and, in the near future, a small cup of ginger ale, or cranberry juice.

Independence,and Living in the Promised Land.

Tomorrow is the 4th of July, the day we celebrate casting off the yoke of British tyranny.  Basically, we said, "Hey Britain, you can have your yoke of tyranny, because we are casting it off!"  Britain said "well, bloody hell, at least we still have India."   We were so delighted with our independence we fired up the barbecue grills, popped open some frosty beers and blew up some fireworks.

Of course, that was a long time ago, now we are good friends with Great Britain.  Such good friends, in fact,  we are even thinking about allowing the import of haggis, which is a sausage like casing filled with... well, you probably don't want to know what it is filled with, and after a few moments of research I know way more than I ever wanted to know about haggis.  Anyway, if we are considering allowing the UK to sell us that you know we have a very good relationship.  There is still plenty to celebrate, though.

Freedom begs for feasting, beer, and fireworks, and we are free.  No longer do we answer to a distant government with little regard for our well being, completely indifferent to the struggles we face daily, focused only on their own continued control, wretched, foreign and hostile to the lives of the citizens of this great nation.  Ok, so maybe not that much has changed, we still seem to have very little real representation. But, at least we are being ignored by our own, and that is a start, or maybe the end, and the problems in the nations capitol seem to grow in a geometric progression.  Who are we to let that ruin our fun?

It is not just a celebration of freedom, it is the day we honor the birth of our nation.  And while there are many things we could and should improve, and things may be getting worse, by the minute, and often it seems like nobody is even paying attention, certainly nobody is in any hurry to reconcile the vast differences dividing so much of the population, as long as it is such an easily exploitable resource, that is no reason to mope.  Sure, things may look hopeless, in fact we may have moved past the point of no return, in so many ways, and everybody who could help is too busy scheming, plotting and planning for the next election cycle.  We still love a good party.

So, America, pop open a cold one, fire up the charcoal, and throw some burgers, hotdogs, steaks, and ribs on the grill, even though those items have reached a price that most of us can no longer afford.  For one day we can all be proud of our country.  It is so easy to forget our problems on the 4th of July.  After all, the houses of congress are not in session.
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Wow, how did you do that?

Anybody who takes the time to look around, pay attention, understand, and acknowledge the mysteries and vagaries of life knows there is something not quite right.  Something a little bit unusual, something just a little strange, not completely bad, but not really good either.  There are obviously larger forces at work, surrounding us, manipulating things, making sure there is always something just a bit odd, almost everyday. After a while we learn to ignore the bizarre things, and pretend they are OK.

Our main purpose in starting this blog, and Explaining Life was to shine a light in the dark corners, unravel the great puzzle, reveal the hidden, explain the inexplicable.  So far we have not done very well.  Some of this stuff is pretty danged complicated, you know.  And everywhere we look there are spiders, and invasive species of fish, and snails, and snakes, and we need to caution people about those problems, too.

But, it seems we have strayed, and last night, at the Share Holders meeting, we heard, at great length, about our failures.  We were told about our need to offer reassurance, in dark, troubled times to the frightened masses, hiding underneath their desks, coffee cup, and flashlight in hand.  People who are afraid to step into the light, because it might signal an approaching space ship, filled with angry aliens, desperate for a new home (Earth) with a tasty, abundant food supply (us).   People who are worried that there might be a "face sized spider" (not for the squeamish, or anybody with a face) under the desk, right behind that awful drawer, that always caught on their pants, and was hard to open, and really served no purpose except for tearing fabric, and the concealment of large, predatory spiders!  Probably better to climb out and face the rapidly approaching, ravenous aliens.  Not that we would know anything about that.

Anyway, to help Explain Life we have begun work on a time travel machine.  It was not as difficult as you might think.  We found a place where the space time continuum was stretched a little thinner than normal, The Pukwana Triangle, in central South Dakota (home to the PukU bar and grill, if you are passing by stop in, have a beer, and say hello).  Then took some riding lawn mowers, removed the blades, and beefed up the engines.  When the atmospheric conditions were just right we sent them zipping around in a circle until they reached escape velocity, and bam they were gone.  Here is the video.

We are going to file a full report, as soon as we find out where they went, and what they are doing.  We think they ended up in the future, around 2035, somewhere around Sao Paulo.  As long as they are there we hope they do a little research the effects climate change has on the Brazilian Wandering Spider, (without bringing one back, of course) they are awful things.  Though, they could be anywhere, "anytime."  Hey time travel is tricky stuff, but we think you are worth the effort, and so are the shareholders, and the board of directors, and the person who signs our paychecks, especially them.

Technology, a mixed blessing.

Since we, here at Life Explained, are sick of this awful winter, and the increasingly invasive, and oppressive Polar Vortex we are going to bring you news from the Southern Hemisphere, where gorgeous, beautiful summer warmth is the flavor of the day.

Using technology in unique ways to save lives, and avoid disfiguring injury is always a noble pursuit.  But, the government researchers in Western Australia have come up with a very unique idea to blend new ideas with the threat from ancient creatures.

Fitting more than 300 sharks with transmitters that will send "tweets" when they approach a beach.  This message will contain information needed to assess the threat including the shark's size, breed, and approximate location.  Technology is an amazing thing, and when information can be used to add safety to everyday living that can only be considered a plus.

Unfortunately, technology can be a double edged sword, and soon the sharks had hacked into their transmitters and were using them to tweet to each other.  "@HammerheadSue, #GreatBuffet off New South Wales, Bring ur appetite."  And, the swimmers were disappearing by the dozens.

But, humans know a little about technology, and began subscribing to the twitter feeds of these noble creatures.  There would be drove of spectators standing on the beach watching the sharks swim around the empty waters, looking longingly at all of the tasty morsels waiting patiently on the shore.

It did not take long before the sharks understood the true utility of this equipment.  Most notably, luring innocent, unsuspecting beach goers in to the water.  "#FreeFosters (Australian for beer) 25 meters from shore," or, "#machoguy help, beautiful woman drowning, come quick."  People are powerless to resist these sorts of gambits, and were being eaten as fast as they could look at their smart phones.

Soon, sharks were starting to pack on the pounds, and several of them had to start taking medicine to reduce their cholesterol and blood pressure.  Sometimes, the benefits of technology can be a boon, sometimes it is a curse.

But, you don't become an apex predator by being stupid.  Sharks started using the transmitters to order green leafy salads and vegetable trays, with a light vinaigrette, some of them are have opened Amazon
accounts and are receiving work out videos, and diet cookbooks.

This has caused an unexpected explosion in the Australian economy, and countries all over the world are rushing internet capable devices to top level predators, hoping for a similar surge.  You might want to remember this next time you are camping and get a text message asking you to bring a bottle of water into the bushes for "#wearytraveler."

Tune in tomorrow when we will discuss the hazards using venomous snakes to process your tax returns, sure they work cheap, but is the angry disposition, and ill temper worth the savings.  It is if you are lucky enough to be audited.

Combat Shopping

This was a big weekend, my wife agreed to let me go grocery shopping with her, something she won't often do.  Grocery shopping is an adventure, an action packed thrill ride with just enough danger to keep it interesting.  But, very few people suffer serious injury.

In our neighborhood three large grocery chains have stores within two blocks of each other, if it weren't for all of the other buildings in between you could actually see one from the other two, that is how close they are.  So, when the sales are right, and they coupons plentiful my wife will shop at all three.

We had just entered the last store, things had been pretty quiet, not much going on, a little disappointing, really.  Right away this store had potential, though, just looking at the shoppers offered some hope.

Entering right ahead of us was a man dressed for competition.  He was wearing expensive cross training shoes, with branded, ankle high socks, Tommie Compression sleeves on his knees, Adidas ClimaLite running shorts (designed specifically to wick away moisture, keeping an athlete cool, dry and performing at his best) and a matching shirt, all topped off by a "protective skull wrap with tie."  It was easy to tell he meant business by the way his sunglasses were perched, right above his brow, ready to drop, at a moments notice, when he stepped from the shaded arena of shopping into the sunlight of adoring fans.  He was a shopping machine, who stopped to bag some fresh mangoes as we passed.

Strawberries were on sale, my wife and I stopped.  While she picked the appropriate plastic container full, a tornado of Lycra Spandex pushing a shopping cart went whizzing past.  This was no ordinary woman, this was a serious athlete, and shopper, a woman who blurred the lines between exercising and getting groceries.  She took her training, competing and shopping seriously.  She wore clothes that were fashionable, fitted and aerodynamically sound.  There would be no excess drag as she tore through the grocery store grabbing high protein, low calorie food guaranteed to improve performance.  Her list must have started with kale, because she was looking through the bin, trying to find the healthiest kale in the display.

Across from the produce in this store is the organic food section, and as we were heading past the organic, healthy food toward the snack crackers, and potato chip aisle, my wife said "dangit, I forgot my coupons, wait here while I go to the car and grab them."

Sure, easy enough, it seemed safe.  I stood by the cart and started checking things out.

I noticed the "signage" indicating the good "saleage" in the surrounding area, one sign read "Super Stupendous, All Natural, Organic Wonder Juice only $1.49."  I couldn't help notice there was only 1 bottle left, and that both the Lycra clad wonder woman shopper and the performance minded competition shopper were both heading toward the last bottle.  Soon, they noticed this as well.

The race was on.  Whizzing past the melons, and tearing by the radishes, they arrived at the same time, the woman actually grabbed the bottle first, and the man punched her in the nose.  She went reeling as her eyes welled with tears.  But, she kept her wits long enough to drop low, turn and sweep kick both legs from her competitor.  Who landed flat on his back with a thud that could be heard all of the way over to the greeting cards, on sale 25% off, with a $25.00 purchase.

Not to be outdone, and sensing that this bottle of wonderful, delightful ambrosia was hanging in the balance the man jumped up and started circling to his left, deftly sidestepping the display of organic, gluten free, salt less crackers, now only $3.49, limit one per customer.

A voice came over the PA, saying "valued Supersaver Supermart customers, don't forget to stock up on chips for Labor Day weekend, most major brands on sale for $3.49 a bag in aisle 12, and head over to organic foods to see the fist fight."

Soon, people were crowding around, watching these two serious shoppers battle it out for the last bottle of Wonder Juice.  A vendor was selling hot dogs, falafel and store brand soda pop.

Sensing a crowd was gathering the man decided to put on a display of power, and moved in close and delivered a couple of savage blows to the mid section of the woman, who wisely grabbed the man and forced the deli counter person to come out, remove his apron and break the clinch.  But, that was all the time she needed to regroup.

After the break the man, thinking their was some weakness, and hoping he could finish the fight if he forced the action from moved in.  Maybe a little rashly and dropped his guard long enough for the woman to deliver a devastating roundhouse kick to the mans head.  He staggered backward.

As a last resort, he grabbed a bottle of all natural, sugar free, free range apple sauce (only $4.99 with a shoppers club card) and hurled it at the woman's head.  She managed to slip sideways so it was only a glancing blow, but it was enough to stagger her slightly, and she was not about to lose the last bottle of Wonder Juice to a cheap maneuver like that.  Thinking quickly, she scooped up a handful of All Natural, Gluten Free, Salt Free, reduced calorie Corn Tortilla Chips from a display bowl next to a small sample dish of Organic, All Natural Black Bean, Corn, Pineapple Salsa, (Buy One Get One Free, while supplies last) crushing them with her hand into a powder she tossed this fine, salt free substance into her opponents eyes.

He stumbled, temporarily blinded, and fell right into the woman's legs knocking her into a Bologna and Processed cheese display that had been left behind by a careless employee who had to hurry off for a quick cigarette break.

The bottle of juice flew high in the air and fell to the floor shattering with a sound that sounded to all those watching like a breaking heart.

Our noble competitors helped each other up, dusted each other off and went into the deli to celebrate with a pizza and a beer.

My wife came back, saw an employee mopping up the spilled juice and asked what I had done.  I tried to tell her what happened, and she sighed, rolled her eyes, looking to the Heavens for strength, and said "I can't take you anywhere."

I promised her I would behave, and said, "hey, maybe we should buy some beer."  She said OK, and off we went.  I can't wait for next week, a three day weekend always brings out the best in competitors.

A Monday to remember, remember the weekend that is.

Weekends are for celebration, and Monday is the time to either regret, remember fondly, or justify.  I am not sure what this will be, maybe we can decide together.  This weekend we went with our friend, and numbers guru, Susan to a celebration/fundraiser at a local Catholic Church.  It was an amazing scene, something from science fiction, almost.  From blocks away the raucous, joyful congregation could be heard, and after clearing the tree cover the light was unmistakable, and looked almost alien, and eerie, in the middle of such a well manicured neighborhood.  But, there it was, calling our name.  My wife and I love a noisy, garish, neon filled, crowded walkway.  It is an overpowering, irresistible temptation.  So we jumped right in.


There were people everywhere, and the noise was fantastic.  We were in our element, and we were having fun.  A huge, rubber duck kept eye over the whole scene and was almost too good to be true, Then, like a sirens song, sweet, tempting and magnetic, we saw the sign.  A casino, The Lord does work in mysterious ways.  We walked in, cold beer in hand, bought some chips, and the next thing you know Charlie Daniel's was singing "Trudy" as my own private soundtrack.  "Had a powerful thirst and six months pay... poured down a bottle and a half of redeye, dropped thirty five dollars in the slot machine, the boys in the back was a dealin' seven card, sat down and won me a hundred and ten."  This was back when he used to sing about drinking and gambling, and fun stuff, before he started singing about faith and duty, and obligation, and other stuff, not so fun.  Charlie, and I had come this far, it was time to gamble.

Susan sat down at the Black Jack table.  Black Jack is a brutal game of statistic probability, with well defined guidelines and procedures, almost like a computer routine, "If this... then that."  A game perfectly suited to a person with a keen grasp of numbers, a memory of frightening accuracy, and the discipline and ability to think logically, and reasonably.  Someone like Susan.  Me, I am an instinct gambler, playing to gut feelings, living by my wits, using the primal, ancient, sense of the universe that kept our ancestors alive in times of great peril, before they even knew what math was.  But, I grabbed twenty dollars worth of chips and took the open seat to Susan's left.

Soon, it was obvious Susan might be on to something.  Again, to paraphrase the inestimable Charlie Daniels, "Susan was raking in chips like Grant took Richmond."  While my pile was getting smaller and more pitiable.  But, Susan was there with a kind voice, and friendly advice.

I had 17 and the dealer was showing a 6.  She said, gently and politely, that it would be the smart move to stay, and not take a card.  But, my spidey senses were tingling, the ancient sense of self preservation was telling me the next card was a 4, generations of survival of the fittest was sure the next card was a 4.  Should I listen to Susan or thousands of years of hard won intuition, science or survival?  The answer was obvious.  Hit me, I almost screamed.  I was going to take a stand, and show the whole table how to use your senses, and free yourself from the chains of mathematics, I would not be reducing myself to a tick in a box on a questionnaire, this was going to be a victory for the individual., that society, and math teachers are so busy trying to suffocate.

Come on Mr. Dealer Man, show the world my 4, add my cards up to 21 and shower me with riches.  He turned the card over, tossing it on my pile  SIX, aaaargh, dammit, how did this happen???  I went over and the dealer drew a 4 for twenty, Susan had 21 so he took my chips and moved them to her pile.  And she said, kindly, "see, if you would not have taken that card the dealer would had 22 and you would have won."

And, briefly, I saw myself, confronting the dealer, as the next line from "Trudy" says so eloquently, "I accused him of cheatin' he reached for a pistol, I grabbed a chair and went upside of his head.  Then I took off runnin' like a motorcycle, heard the bullets whine and the sirens wail."  But, he seemed like such a nice, little old man, and he actually gave me a chip when I was down on my luck, before my wife rescued me with another twenties worth. And it was not his fault I lost, it was years of evolution, and the complacency of modern conveniences had dulled my senses, or maybe my ancestors were all having a good laugh at my expense.  I will have to research this a bit further before I know who to blame.

After a few more hands, she won, I don't remember how I did, we cashed out and went to check out the "Instagram" sensation but were too late.  Which is a little sad, it is not often you get to see an Instagram sensation in person.  And it would have been kind of cool, because I don't even know how a person might achieve such lofty status.

Later, one of our party of partiers bought some carnival ride tickets and went on a harrowing, terrifying, death defying ride, that will be covered in another post, as soon as the trauma subsides.

 It made a perfect teaching opportunity when we got home, when my sons asked how I did, my wife told them she thought I had lost, a little, and said, "that is why they call it gambling, unless it is your dad, then they call it donating."

We had a blast, I think this should go in the fond memories file, what do you think?

Jungle Jim's a grocery destination.

Recently we were lucky enough to find ourselves in Cincinnati, a wonderful city, built in the hills right beside the Ohio river in southwestern Ohio.  It is a bustling, beautiful place with many great attractions, including the Reds and the Bengals, right across the river is the Newport Aquarium, a wonderful zoological park, and not to be missed.   But, when you are in Cincinnati you have to visit Jungle Jim's Food Supermarket.

In a world of mass marketeers, warehouse clubs, and huge
homogeneous chains of identical buildings filled with shelves that were all pulled from the same marketing formulas, (reducing shoppers to an integer in an equation with a predictable outcome) Jungle Jim's market is breath of fresh, wild, untamed, well stocked air.  Complete with a State Liquor Store, ah what could be better?




This is clearly a place with some serious grocery MOJO.  It has a pair of gorillas holding a sign that says it all "FOODIE ENTRANCE."  And inside there is a dizzying variety of ethnic foods.  You can buy 50 pound bags of rice, and gallon jugs of Tabasco sauce, rubs, marinades cooking supplies, and enough soft drinks and not so soft drinks wash it all down, whatever your taste.




You get an idea that the shopping experience is going to be a little unusual when you first walk in (if you are at the "new" location, if you end up at the original you need to walk a little) and see the restroom.  They have the appearance of a Porta-Potty.  No matter how you potty, that is kind of cool.  And, if you don't believe that check out the sign (one of two) detailing where the bathrooms have been discussed on TV.  They have actually won "America's Best Restroom," and most people didn't even know that anybody rated those things.  Having been to Wall Drug, another famous store, let me tell you, these bathrooms are better.

Of course, the coolness does not end when you exit the restroom.  There is a travel camper on a platform above a display of snack crackers.  Which, in itself is kind of cool, but, that is only the beginning, the camper is adorned with flowery 60's style artwork, and looking out the windows on one side are pictures of Bob Dylan, and, Joan Baez, looking out the lonely window on the other side is the image of John Lennon.




 Looking out the back window are Richard and Pat Nixon.  Sadly, I did not get a picture of that, probably to placate my deceased, beloved Mother, who watched the Watergate Hearings with the fierce intensity of the truly, politically agitated.  This one's (more accurately, the lack of this one is) for you Mom!

Of course, there is a fire truck at the entrance to the Hot Sauce department, which is huge, and well stocked.  And a boat at the entrance to the seafood department.  Which is large and smells a lot like fish.  So, we got out of there pretty quickly.

A pretend tomb of somebody
who had something to do with
wine.  And, it talked!

And there is a variety of beer and wine, so large it would be almost impossible to choose`.  As we were looking at a display of something, the product escapes me, several burly, rough looking young men walked past, they were wearing shirts with football and baseball related insignia, and were talking, in loud, unabashed voices, cursing, and acting very macho, as young men might.  They seemed naturals for the liquor store, or beer display but they headed right for the imported wines and began speaking in hushed tones about the differences between French, German, and Italian wines.  It was so tempting to wait and see if they decided on the Pinot Noir from the Rhein Valley, the Chablis from Bourgogne or the Cabernet Sauvingon from Bardolino.  But, when they started into what fruit and cheese would go best with each I knew they were in for a long, trying debate, and I am too old for something so heated.

But, our trip was over and we had to return home, with some beer, a few pastries, a can of tomato's (my wife has an addiction) and some fond memories.  Thank you, Jungle Jim's, it was a gas, and we will be back.

Almost the last "I quit smoking post" I promise.

Quitting smoking has so many benefits.  It is so expensive to smoke, the savings are enormous, even if you stay "healthy."  Most people who never smoke, and people who still smoke probably don't understand the amount of time and effort it takes to smoke.  It is more than just the act of "smokin' a butt," there is a whole set of logistical challenges facing smokers.  For one thing you need cigarettes, (hardly a smoker without some of those) and something to light them with, (non smokers who only need to remember keys, wallet, watch, and a cell phone are rookies) and a decent place to enjoy the comfort of a serene smoke, which is becoming more of a challenge all the time.  So, the benefits are manifold, one unexpected bonus was the friends I made.

There are a couple who deserve special recognition.  Gale, and Susan, we were members of an online support community to help us in our efforts to quit, and we have just become friends.

In fact Susan, and Gale were my first Facebook friends, I had joined Facebook several months prior because I wanted to join this particular fan group, for my beloved KIN 2M phone, but it was filled with superior, smug people and I quickly ignored them (actually, I am still trying to decide whether Facebook is a huge waste of time or the most under utilized form of entertainment, keep an eye on Life Explained for more in the near future) so it was nice to have a friend, and all of the sudden I had two friends, of course now I am in the thirties, but, I still remember when it was only two.

Susan (who is from Columbus) has actually had beers with my wife and I on more than one occasion, and we are considering her for the exalted position of "drinking buddy," on a probationary basis of course.  Even though she is genius, MENSA member, who can do amazing things with Microsoft Excel she still enjoys a good pirate joke.  Hey, Susan, what does a pirate do on the weekend?  Yarrrrrdwork.  I don't really know if she likes pirate jokes or not, but she has a wonderful sense of humor, and  has been to a Grateful Dead concert and that is cool.

Gale (who is from North Carolina, Scotland, Germany) is a fearless on the ground reporter for this very blog, and was willing to take on the Evil Barbie Empire to get the truth to you, and save the world, too.  She tackles plastic women bent on world domination with the same gusto as German noun declension.  An enthusiastic world traveler, Gale has over 300 cities dotted on her world travel map, (a lot of them are in foreign places, filled with foreigners) and a lot of that was done through air travel, which we all know is crazy.  And she has a tattoo, which she recently had upgraded, another act of bravery.

Anyway, thank you, both.  In the words of Jerry Garcia, "what a long, strange trip it's been."  But, thanks to you it has never been dull.

There would be pictures here, but they still need to sign the consent form, and have it notarized, and air parceled to our secret location.  Not really, I am going to email them and ask for permission.

The Awning of a New Day.

Today we are going to attempt to predict the future, the near future, this summer, in general, our vacation plans this summer, in particular. We are going to visit Pukwana South Dakota (and points west, and some points east, and maybe even a point south). The home of the Puk U Bar and Grille and Lawn Mower Race Arena. It is a delightful place, owned by my cousin Marcie, a hard working entrepreneur who has managed to carve out a successful business in the windswept, indifferent plains of Central South Dakota.

Here is the Puk U, the awning is new, at least this is the first time I've seen it.

Those who know me, understand my long, comfortable relationship with cold beer and Kentucky bourbon, (and Tennessee sour mash, and rye from a small distillery in Iowa) and the Puk U has both in generous supply. Though, finding a Puk U t-shirt in the appropriate size is difficult, they are a very hot commodity, still, I have not given up. There is also a wonderful menu, featuring many local favorites, all prepared to order (if the grill is on) and served with cold beer.

But, the real draw is the lawn mower races. People take small, riding lawn mowers and modify them using mechanical prowess, Midwest ingenuity,  and the burning desire to take something designed to be a functional and only slightly dangerous, and turn it into something fast, fun and much more dangerous. It is human nature.  These modified mowers travel at... they go...  reach speeds of... well I don't know how fast they go, but they really go, rocketing around an oval track at speeds approaching way faster than a person should be driving a lawn mower. Which makes for a wonderful spectator sport.

Of course, no true spectator sport is complete without a little action on the side.   Lawn mower races provide this through the process of auctioning racers.  You bid on the drivers, and if they win you get a portion of the prize money, which comes from the auction itself, almost a zen koan, the gambler waging on his \ her own ability to pick the right racer on which to wager.  You see, this is culturally enlightening as well as exciting.

An actual, professional auctioneer is employed to expedite this process. There is something hypnotic, mesmerizing in the cadence of an auctioneer's call. After sitting through the first several racers the siren's song won, it was addictive, and I was powerless to resist,  and had to bid, finally managing to win. Naturally, since I had won the right to root for the racer and would get a part of his winnings, the poor guy never stood a chance. His lawn mower, recognizing the curse that I routinely bestow on various sports teams, actually gave up and stopped without finishing a whole lap. Curses can be funny things, who knew they understood the workings of the internal combustion engine.

But, never quit, that's my motto, (unlike certain lawn mowers) and I am going back this summer. I have been working on my ability to exude a winning demeanor to machinery (mostly by talking to cars in parking lots) and plan on watching my racer cross the finish line, that would be a victory, at least for me.

If you happen to be driving across South Dakota on I90 and see the sign for Pukwana, stop in, find  the Puk U, it is not difficult to locate, it is right next to the race track, and very near to the Fire Station, I think, have a beer, and a shot of bourbon, a good meal (if the grill is on) and leave a very generous tip.  We are talking about family here.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Things that are important, would we lie?

Time for a brief update.

Gale is now a happy resident of the great country of Germany.  She is studiously learning the rules of German grammar, and trying desperately to acquire a taste for Bratwurst and Beer.  Just kidding, everybody likes Bratwurst and Beer.  It is UnAmerican to dislike those things, they are like Apple Pie and Mom.  So if you see her, say hello, or possibly Hallo.  And buy her a brat, and a beer.

One more to go, and I am finished!

Susan would like everybody to know that lists are very cool.  And lists that include numbers are like manna from Heaven.  Susan is an organizational wizard, a MENSA member with a flair for, and a several degrees in, accounting.  Fortunately, Susan is also blessed with patience and a sense of humor, I have tested both over the course of our friendship.


John is still working on his first tweet.  When it was reported that John was a man of few words it seems that may have been an understatement.  His a man of no words, at least no words for Twitter.  In an effort to assist him on the road to Twitter happiness, we have set up an email account for just this occasion.  So, please, email TweetTweetJohn@yahoo.com, pleading for his first tweet.  We will make sure he gets them all.

Bil would like it known that not only did he participate in Chess Boxing he actually won the match.  We are working quickly and fervently to have Chess Boxing added to the next Olympics.  It is a young man's sport though, so we are also working on having Checkers Beer Pong added, just in case it takes too long.  Ah, Beer Pong, a real thinking mans game, so much strategy.  And, here is proof.

Re-enactment, not Really Mike's feet

My cousin Mike, who gets younger and more attractive almost every day has developed a condition that makes him walk around wearing one sock.  A tragic affliction, and we will be taking a collection to combat this curse in a future post, but we need to come up with a name sufficiently terrifying so people will rush to send in a check.  Right now we are just having a little fun, at Mike's expense, with the old nursery rhyme;



Diddle diddle dumling, my cousin John's son Mike
is walking around, one sock off one sock on,
diddle diddle dumpling  Mike, son of John.

It still needs a little work, but research continues, tirelessly.

Life continues, (bumpy, rough, and frightening) and as long as it does we will be here to keep an eye on things.