originally 5/12/01
Wednesday morning went to the doctor cuz of the pain recurrences. She basically told me to take more pills and see if it helps. She was happy with my blood pressure though, 129/80, guess that's ok. The next cholesterol check isn't until July.

I'm trying to do better about that. Thursday I had the Jones for sourdough at lunch. Yes, really. So I got a Western burger at Hardees. I removed the bacon. Didn't want to. But I removed the bacon. Didn't eat it after removing it, I'm not a lawyer. No, the bacon was actually trashed. Still didn't eat it, cuz I'm not Bill Clinton. At this time it is either in the landfill, or the janitor.

Thought I'd be better Friday and have a salad. But when I called Panera to order one, it listed their soups automatically. The last one was corn chowder with green chili's. Couldn't resist, so I ordered the Pick Two and got half a salad and the chowder. It's not easy being weak, but I am well-fed. Only one problem, they gave me a fork, but no spoon. The chowder was thick, but not that thick. Had to walk back to the conference room to get a spoon, proving that no matter how inconsequential, you will get at least one bitch per e-mail, guaranteed.

And nobody else, nobody else, will guarantee that. Admittedly, some may do better than that. But the guarantee has a certain je nais se quos, whatever that is.

Thursday we had a terrific storm, funnel clouds and golfball size hail. At least a dozen dents per vehicle. I would have slept through it but Trainboy was so scared he sat by me and screamed and screamed and screamed. Between sleep deprivation and all the pain pills I was in La La land, wherever that is. I don't remember cuz I was asleep. Had the hail pierced the roof and hit me, it would not have hurt. Such are the marvels of modern medicine.

But having come out of my near-coma, I sized up the situation immediately. He needed comforting and strength, so immediately I slipped into a John Wayne impersonation. I patted the little feller on the head and said, "Don' chu worry lil' pardner, momma will be home soon." And lapsed back into my coma. Comforted and inspired, he girded his loins (as well as a 3 year-old can), poured himself a tropical juice, kicked back, and turned on Cartoon Network.

Actually, I carried him around the house and showed him there was nothing to be afraid of. But sometimes the truth takes a hit when there's a better story to be told.

I know. You're saying, "Cut the crap Dale. What are you getting The Wife for Mother's day?" I was hoping to avoid the point. And you ask it so bluntly it hurts even more. For I took my wife at her word. She has said, "Don't buy me anything, I want services." So today I mowed the lawn. You laugh in derision, you sneer in contempt (for how else does one sneer?)

But I ask for a little understanding. After all the rains we've had it was not a mowing so much as a first cutting. Everything had to be mowed twice to get it even, a job more worthy of a combine than a mower. The backyard now looks completely green-mulched. It looks like the next step is baling it. I would much rather have bought her some opal earrings, and left the mowing for her to do. But I did not. So you see, the way of love is not easy. Because if she wants it raked she can do it herself.

If you're here, you read the whole thing, and need to find something better to do with your time.

originally 9/24/00
Usually I try to have some laughs when doing this. Not in the mood yet. In
the paper it said some yo-yo (my term, not the papers) went on a rampage in
Virginia. He went to a gay bar and dispensed his justice with a gun. The
only time that ever appears to be a good idea is when you're judge, jury and
executioner. And though there are times you can sympathize with vigilante
justice, capital punishment should be reserved for capital crimes.

Shooting up bar because it caters to gays makes no more sense than a Cyclone
fan shooting up a Hawkeye bar. Nobody was getting hurt until the
self-righteous yo-yo walked in the door. There may have been people in the
bar who deserved to die but the shooter couldn't have known who, or why.

It would not make me happy if the shooter claims to be a fundamentalist
Christian and doing the work of God. Guys like this give God a bad name.
There are a number of reasons he couldn't have been doing God's work. I know,
you already agree with me, but I'm not going to stop till I'm done.

First, God does not send individuals to be judge, jury, and executioner. I'm
not aware of one instance in the Bible where he does that.

Second, Jesus said "Judge not, lest ye be judged." In one famous incident he
saved an adultress from being stoned. She was guilty, certainly was guilty.
But he refused to allow a personal morality crime to cause a punishment with
death. It makes sense, you can't repent and be saved if you're dead. And God
looks at the big picture.

Third, in the Bible it clearly says ,"All have sinned and fallen short of the
glory of God." In Christianity 101 you're taught we all deserve to die, but
Christ paid the penalty so we might live. So, if he wanted to be
theologically sound, he should have just walked down the street and shot
everyone he saw, men, women, and children, and saved the last round for
himself.

The last part always gets me. How many times do you hear of some flake
killing his family, fully intending to kill himself last. They almost always
lose their nerve when it comes to themselves. Killing the wife and kids was
easy. But looking down the barrel and pulling the trigger is just too
personal. To get rid of him is going to take 20 years of appeals while he's
on death row.

And there you have it. A good case for capital punishment. And you'd have to
agree, if killing a family warrants death, so does killing somebody who just
went out to have a beer.

You may be thinking I'm taking the death of a gay kind of personally. Well, I
am. Because before I married The Wife, or even dated her, I was frustrated
and decided to attend a singles' dance in Rock Island. I don't know Rock
Island very well at all. And as I was walking down a block trying to find the
dance a car full of guys drove by and started yelling at me.

They yelled in mass quantities, most of which I couldn't understand, but
"faggot," and "queer" were pretty recognizable. There wasn't anybody else
around I could have been associating with. Looking back, I'm glad it wasn't
dark, and that they didn't have bats or guns. Because there was no doubt in
my mind they were quite hostile towards me.

I have never been offended by a gay. Straights have hurt me mucho, but I
don't hold it against them. I have never heard of carloads of gays cruising
to beatup straights. Or gay-supremacists holing up in Idaho. Or gay-cultists
drinking poison kool-aid.

While we're at it, may I say I disagree with prisons? Because I do. In the
Bible God's people do not have prisons. If you're guilty you pay restitution,
or in a capital crime you die. A much simpler way to do things, and it ends
punishment creating a harder, more vicious, and knowledgeable criminal. Saves
the State mucho bucks also.

So the gay-killer in Virginia should be shot, since it's impossible to pay
restitution to a dead man, and prison time isn't going to help him. On the
other hand, prison time may give him a new perspective on the gay life-style.
He may completely change his attitude the first time he's called
"girlfriend."

Well it's late, got to end this. Will e-mail you again later. That's a
promise, not a threat. Actually, that depends on your attitude. Even so it's
not a jailable offense. So sue me.

Originally 09/12/00
It's true. I'm back, grayer, but just as foolish.

May I start with a few humble thank you's.

To Bill, who befriended me when I feared there would never be another. Thank
you. Swift, strong, deadly. Your aim is true, your foot is large.

To Ron, who took the trouble to find me, and reminded me it's important to
laugh everyday. Who expanded my horizons by taking me on bike rides with his
writings. And told me I say "alot" alot, and alot isn't even a word. I'll try
to keep ahold of that truth. Thank you, alot.

To Randy, my artistic brother, who inspires many with his work. And has
helpful hints, like, "if a fingernail splits seal it with super glue." Don't
laugh, it works. But I liked the resulting gloss so much it made me uneasy.
Thank you.

To Mavis. For Saturdays filled with coffee and laughter. My weekly oasis of
sanity. Thank you.

By the way, Mavis had a helpful hint of her own I'd like to share. My glasses
were turning my temples green, and my watch was turning my wrist green also.
Were I younger I would have been content to sit on fashions cutting edge. But
I am not, so I was not. Besides, a razor is no place to park your butt. There
are probably Public Service Announcements about it, or there should be.
Anyway, Mavis told me to get some clear nail polish and coat the offending
articles. It worked.

Some of the more cynical and snide of you are speculating I was tempted to do
my fingernails at the same time, or at least my toenails. Not really, because
I tend to go overboard when I do things. First the nails, then I'd be looking
through the Wife's closet. Be realistic, I'm a foot taller and a 100 pounds
heavier, nothing of hers is going to fit. With her clothes and this beard I'd
look like a hooker from Jersey.

That was in terribly poor taste. Wish I could say for sure it won't happen
again. But I can't, so I won't. Sorry. Let's move on.

But not too far. More about me. Sunday morning, on the way to church, I
noticed the car was wet, and there were tree branches laying in the street.
Immediately, my clever brain recognized the significance so I asked the wife,
"Was there a storm last night honey?"

Her reply was somewhat exasperated. She informed me there had not been a
storm that went through, but two storms. Neither she nor the kids could sleep
for the pounding hail, and the cannon-like thunder from the lightning that was
so close she almost felt like a lottery winner thank you very much. As you
can surmise from this story, I slept through it all. My talents tend to be
worthless to society, but they work for me.

The only other gift I have is world-class snoring. It's not really useful either,
not even to me. But my neighbor alledges he has seen it make bats flee the
attic. We need another witness to make that legal. My snoring is so vigorous it aparently causes my ribs
to bruise. The Wife has complained my snoring makes it hard for her to sleep.
Personally, I think it has more to do with her carpal tunnel syndrome, and
sore elbows. Who can say, I'm not a doctor and it's pure speculation. But
I'm sure she loves me. On the other hand, she gets kind of cranky when she's
tired. But enough about me. Let's move on again.

In the news lately, have been some animal right activists from Canada. This
one kind of hurts, because you always knew, "When this country goes to hell
I'm heading for Canada." We are apparently losing that option. The walls are
closing in and I'm finding it very hard to breath, just because of those
activists.

To explain, in case you haven't heard. A bunch of hosehead activists freed
14, count 'em, 14,000 minks from an Iowa mink farm. An Iowa farm, so how
does that usually go? Put a piece of grass in your teeth and your thumbs in
your bibs and say: It rained last night,near-catastrophe, but it was good for the minks.
Or, Yeah, it's hot, but it's good for the minks. Get your minks in yet? ...

How do you farm minks? I don'tknow. Here's an idea, send me your best
mink farm joke and I'll giggle andpass them on. They've got to be better than mine.
And doesn't that make you feel just a little better about yourself?

Minks. Back to the minks. So they released 14k minks. About half have been
recaptured, like fugitive felons. The other half were hit by cars. Which is
kind of crazy, because it's a rural area. There couldn't have been that many
cars. Were the drivers trying to score full-length coats? Were the minks so
disoriented or grief-stricken they were throwing themselves in front of cars?
Is it possible they were actually lemmings, counterfeit minks, and they just
naturally laid down in the road en masse? I don't know, and the media aren't
telling. I smell coverup. It could make a terrific state slogan though,
"Iowa, Better Road Kill Than Beverly Hills." But I digress.

Upon being told of the massive loss of mink life, the head of the organization
that did it (Great White PETA?) said the minks were going to die anyway. Cold
comfort to the surviving minks. I think the guy and his followers should be
hunted down and shot. It wouldn't be a great loss, they're going to die
anyway.

That was a long trip around a small barn.

In the news today it was said the same gallant band of idiots freed a ...
bunch of pigeons. Mucho of them died. (are you happy Ron?) The owners are
trying to catch the rest before they too die. Because there aren't enough
statues in the area for them to survive. The Gallant Band of Idiots may
profess to love mother nature, but they do not know her ways.
(Everyone nod soberly)

I could have sworn I was going to cover more ground than that. But it's too
late, and the bats are getting rowdy. Sometimes a man has to do what a man
has to do, and the wife doesn't get any sleep.

You clean your mind up right now.

Good night all.