ssǝɹddns ɹou ɹɐǝɟ ɹǝɥʇıǝu plnoʍ ʎʇǝıɔos ǝǝɹɟ ʎlnɹʇ ɐ ʇɐɥʇ ƃuıʇnɔolɯnɔɹıɔ suıɐʇuoɔ ǝʇıs sıɥʇ

Thursday, April 17, 2014


Welcome to termite season.

I’ve been working six-day weeks since the beginning of March, with absolutely no end in sight to the overtime parade. Besides, since blogging is rapidly going the way of opposite-sex unions, it’s not like anyone would miss my usual circumlocutions.

In addition, since the heavily-listing US of O is completely bereft of capable leadership, it’s not like activism is going to help pull us back from the rapidly-approaching abyss. At this point, activism brings to mind some song lyrics: “Despite all my rage, I’m still just a rat in a cage.”

Eat, drink too much, be merry and embrace the coming end. Like Kevin Dillon said in Platoon: “Besides, if you die you won’t know about it anyway.”

A profundity, perhaps?

At this point, I might be the only person in Wilkes-Barre that hasn’t been served with a subpoena.

Doesn’t much matter anymore. The US of O is broke. The State of Pennsylunions is broke. Wilkes-Barre is broke. As in, there’s no relief in sight. There ain’t no cavalry charge coming. Start filling those potholes out front with soil. Oh, and pick up all of those thousands of errant recyclables.

If everyone currently working at City Hall gets rounded up and shipped off to some insidious Soviet gulag, you’ll still be filling your own potholes and sweeping up the recyclables.

Hillary in 2016?

Yeah! As the former secretary of state, I’d love to hear her explain why war and chaos is damn close to breaking out all over the globe.

Put a fork in that windbag.

Wifey and I have spent the past couple of days recounting her senior prom.

Yeah, I know. I remember when a local radio talk show host accused local bloggers of being bitter-for-life after not being invited to proms and the like, but she knows about as much as your typical salamander knows.

We started dating at the end of her freshman year at G.A.R. Memorial high school, formerly and accurately known as Garbage, Ashes & Rubbish. During her senior year, I walked over to her house and told her I didn’t want to see her anymore, because her father was fast pushing me to the point of committing a long overdue aggravated assault. She exploded in tears and ran back into her house.

Saddened and disgusted, I got into my car and drove down Coal street only to see an unmanned, rampaging bulldozer cross the street in front of me, crush a car and slam into a home. Stunned, I turned left onto Grant street. All these years later, I work with a guy who was in that house when it hit.

After we broke up, I started seeing another G.A.R. girl who just kind of presented herself as being very interested. She was cool. We dated for a few months. I liked her. She seemed smart, had her entire life planned out, she was fun to hang with and cute as all get-out.

I was in my first year of culinary and she persistently harangued me about going with her to her senior prom. Every time she pressed me on it, she got an immediate and unequivocal NO! You see, playing dress-up and eating fruit cocktail will never be classified as having fun by this knucklehead.

But, she eventually pulled the crying bit at the McDonald’s in Wyoming after a bit of miniature golf just next door, so I reluctantly agreed. Yes, I said, I would attend her senior prom with her on my arm.

Chicks, man!

What I didn’t know was that Wifey would also be attending the prom with a date of her own. I knew the guy. Let’s just say, prior to that night, I always tolerated the guy. No sense beating on the geek.

Anyway, it wasn’t long before my date got lost, drunk and high and was draped over a toilet bowl by her equally lost, drunk and high gal pals. And after quite the boring while, I figured Why Not?, marched on over to her table and asked Wifey to dance.

We’ve been married almost 35 years now.

Together for 38.

I’ve been blogging since December of 2000, and never once used her name and never once posted a picture of her. That was a promise I made to her when I first created the local blog scene.

Know what?

That’s blown all to hell.



Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Houston AIG fire

This is as cool a customer as you will ever run across.

Way cool.


Thursday, March 20, 2014

Is Estonia next?

Vladimir Putin has invaded Chechnya.

Vladimir Putin has invaded Georgia.

Vladimir Putin has invaded Ukraine.

Vladimir Putin has annexed Crimea.

Meanwhile, back at the Amerikan decline...



Got myself a stay-cation this week.

And I got the entire crew in town.


Tuesday, March 18, 2014

WBPD: Purple


Looks all bitch-slap cool.

Purple or otherwise, the last line of defense.

Send these folks a pizza or two.


Sunday, March 16, 2014

Parade day '14

Another parade day in the books.

Kind of cold, too windy and way too many trailer park escapees begging and pleading for candy. Other than that, I got nothing.

Many thanks to the grandrodents: Gage, Taylor & Zach. Oh, and to the impromptu parade marshals: Peace and Ebon.

Now, real quick like, some city business type stuff.

I'm told that the W-B credit union flap which brought the FBI to City Hall involves a "slush fund."

Got me by the ball bearings. I'm a private sector boy. So I'm not near as proficient at greed, prevaricating, graft and unionized theft like you public sector boys.


Wednesday, March 12, 2014


Barry And Zach...

Between Two Ferns


Meanwhile...back at the Ukraine...



So, no more phone and no more cable?


Nah. He's no Jimmy Carter II.


Sunday, March 9, 2014

From water...

The illustrious Kayak Dude paid us a visit today, all the way from down where those Philly-type folks typically stomp all about.

KD managed to befriend me via these electronic pages some 13 years ago in spite of myself being me.

I used to blame my anti-social behavior and my previously diagnosed auto-hostility issues on my troubled, stranger than fiction upbringing. Then, after I reconnected with my father for a fleeting fortnight just over a year ago, I figured I was what I was (damaged) because of heredity, being that dear old AWOL dad has some serious paranoia going on there.

Paranoia coupled with fading anger, that's the ticket. Or, as the more current common parlance has it---not my fault. But my life is what I've made of it. Excuses and cop-outs aside, I am the architect of this cracked and frayed facade. I could spin through the entire panoply of reasons and excuses and justifications, but just know that while I'm admittedly damaged goods, I'm all good with where I'm at and what eventually led me here. It's one thing to crash during the race, but the end-all goal is to end up at the finish line.

And as I approach that aforementioned finish line, the way I figure it, I can't be all that bad if someone such as KD would bother to drop on by the Parsons adobe with some Wyalusing, PA-brewed River Barge Brew in tow.

If you're into good lager, if you're into full-bodied lager being brewed as I type within spitting distance of the endangered Susquehanna river, then perhaps you ought to consider a road trip up north a ways.

As I recently pointed out, from water comes beer. And if the quality of our water is under assault due to hydro-fracturing, then our life force---beer---is likewise under assault.

So, I put it to you NEPA, are you willing to idly stand by and have the upstanding quality of your local beer compromised? Will you do nothing as your lands and water aquifers are plundered and sullied in the name of exported natural gases? Or will you stand and fight (provided that the pencil neck geek-in-chief, the IRS, the FBI,  the ATF, the TSA and LCB don't get wind of your annoying insolence)?

From water comes beer.

And so does life itself.

KD, I will gladly join you at that upstate Chief Muckamucka paddling event. Or, whatever it was.


Monday, March 3, 2014

What else people live...

Real life...

Sandy Beach drive-in...

I figure we're going to have to go all red line "Syria" on the Russians.

Uh, never you mind about that. Forget I mentioned that.

New food labeling, folks.