CHICKENS CAN'T FLY

  Don't spend significant time with minor people. If there are people in your life who continually disappoint you, break promises, stomp on your dreams, are too judgmental, have different values, and don't understand you, support you, and affirm you during difficult times...they are not friends.

  Sometimes in life, as you grow, your friends will either also grow -- or go. Surround yourself in intimate relationships with people who reflect your values, goals, interests, and lifestyle.

  When I think of my successes, I am most thankful to my family and friends who enrich my life. Those are my valuable treasures, my interests. My goal is to seek out such people. My lifestyle revolves around this goal.

  Over the years, the names in my address book have changed because I changed -- and, I hope, for the better. 

 When you think you are alone, new people will show up in your life who make your life so much sweeter and easier to endure when the hard times come.

  So remember what your parents used to say, "Birds of a feather flock together."

  If you're an eagle, don't hang around chickens: Chickens Can't Fly and Eagles Soar!

 

 

 

                                    

                                          DDIY

Having recently retired, I had a lot of time, so I decided to remodel my spare bathroom. It had not been touched in over twenty-five years. I pride myself on being pretty handy, so I didn’t think it would be a problem.

The bathroom was just ugly. It had been wallpapered with the most obnoxious paper, large pink flowers with green ivy entwined around them. The toilet was pink and meant for a midget, and it took a while to fill. The vanity was homemade from what looked like scrap wood stained in an olive green with a pink sink inserted. Thankfully, the floor was a neutral grey ceramic tile and wouldn’t need replacing.

I decided to start by removing the wallpaper. After researching, I found that the best way to accomplish this was to steam it off. I got into my truck, headed to Taylor Rental, and rented a steamer. After an hour of steaming, I had only removed a two-square-foot area. I’m pretty sure it had been installed with super glue. Undaunted, I retrieved a wide chisel from my shop and vigorously scraped it off. It took me four hours, and I was left with walls that had numerous gouges. I went to the hardware store and purchased some plaster putty. Returning to my project, I repaired the gouges and sanded them smoothly…first job done.

The toilet was next. With a wrench, I turned the water off and removed the coupling. An element of water started to leak out. I thought it was just excess water coming out of the toilet. Then, out of the blue, the pipe popped off. The water pressure caused this, and suddenly, I had a six-foot fountain of water going all over my bathroom. Panic set in quickly, and the floor soon turned into a swimming pool. I got my finger in the pipe to stop it, which caused my fountain to get even higher and soak me.

I eventually managed to stop the water, and everything was soaked. I had an inch of water on the floor. It wasn’t amusing then, but when I think about it now, I laughed a lot about my panic and the fact that I looked like a drowned rat. I decided to quit for the day.

The following day, I got into my truck and drove to Home Depot, where I spent an hour picking out a new highboy, low-flush toilet. I remembered I would need a new wax seal, so I purchased one,

Returning home, I removed the old toilet and unpacked the new one. I replaced the wax seal, placed it over the opening, and screwed it down. I dragged the new toilet over and put it over the opening. Nothing lined up. The mounting bolts were not even close. No matter how hard I tried, it just wouldn’t fit. Frustrated, I left it and turned my attention to the vanity.

I disconnected the water source to the sink, ensuring it didn’t leak. I couldn’t remove the sink as the clamps holding it had rusted. At this point, I had lost all patience. Rather than fiddle with the clamps, I took a hammer and smashed the ceramic sink into pieces, cleaning up the mess and adding it to the pile of trash I had created outside. The vanity was easy to remove because it was not secured but free-standing. I dragged it from the bathroom into the garage and measured its length, width, and depth. Remembering the adage, “measure twice.” I confirmed my measurement, hopped into the truck, and returned to Home Depot. I found a right-sized vanity with an installed sink and returned home.

I unpacked the vanity and slid it into place. I proceeded to hook up the plumbing, but the connector to the water source was of a different diameter. So, another trip to the hardware store for a step-down fitting! I finished installing the sink and vanity and stood back admiring my work. Unfortunately, the vanity was higher than the previous one, having not measured the height of the old one,  and it covered up half the electrical outlet. Could anything else go wrong? There was no chance I would get involved with electrical work.

I was at a standstill, so I called a plumber and an electrician, ignoring my reluctance. The plumber could not make it for several weeks, and the electrician succumbed to my pleading and said he would come in a few days.

I decided I might as well paint the bathroom walls. This didn’t take long using a roller.

“I take my painting very seriously. So, before painting the bathroom door, I took off the door handle rather than taping around it. But when I closed the door and heard the lock click, I realized I had left the latch in the door. ‘No need to panic,’ I thought to myself.
 

“I’ll fit the handle back into the door – but the latch wouldn’t catch. I tried to pull back the latch manually, but it wouldn’t budge. Then I used my nail punch and hammer to remove the hinges – a sure bet – but the door was so tight in the frame I couldn’t budge it. There I was, trapped in my bathroom.

“Escaping through the window wasn’t an option because it did not exist. Mild panic fuelled a couple of karate kicks that split that hollow-core door into splinters. I think I’ll paint the new door before I hang it.”

Ultimately, the plumber and electrician did their job, to the tune of $340.00 total, and the bathroom was finished.

All in all, it was DDIY job. Don’t Do It Yourself.

 

                          Why Do You Want To Kill Me?

Killing wildlife for trophy or sport is wrong.

 The argument is often made by defenders of the status quo that, without hunting, wildlife populations would grow unchecked and run amok, but this is not supported by science. Leaving aside the question of what happened millions of years before modern humans appeared, there is ample evidence that carnivores, such as wolves, mountain lions, bears, and coyotes, regulate their numbers. They do this by defending territories, limiting reproduction to alpha individuals within a group, investing in lengthy parental care, and infanticide. Hunting is unnecessary to keep populations of top predators in check; indeed, it has the opposite effect because it disrupts the social interactions through which self-regulation is achieved.

It is sometimes said that hunting is conservation. The idea is expressed in various ways—hunters pay for conservation, hunters are the true conservationists, and hunting is needed to manage wildlife—but they all suggest that hunters and hunting are indispensable to the continued survival of wildlife in America. This myth is not necessarily true, except that some wildlife populations need to be controlled, but very few need to be. So, who are these hunters who hunt for sport and trophies?

As published in Psychology Today, it has been shown that trophy hunters possess the personality characteristics of narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy.

Narcissists have an inflated sense of self and crave positive attention. To maintain this inflated level of self-esteem, they must engage in strategies to maintain and develop their self-image, like posing with a bear or coyote they’ve just killed. Like the carefully managed social media images, Machiavellians often manipulate social situations for their ends. At the same time, psychopaths are usually callous and lack empathy – they do not experience the same level of emotion about the suffering of others, whether human or animal. So, animals can be used as props to maintain their self-image of superiority without guilt or conscience.

Researchers found that animal cruelty is an indicator of violent antisocial behavior. They also found that less positive attitudes towards animals were associated with higher levels of all three of the traits and that higher levels of psychopathy were associated with actual behavior, for example, “having intentionally killed a stray or wild animal for no good reason.”

Psychology may be the key to understanding trophy hunting, why it still flourishes, and, ultimately, what can be done about it. After all, human beings can self-reflect and develop insight into their actions; sometimes, that may be enough to promote some degree of change. But this all depends on these other factors that we need to identify, analyze, and deconstruct that hold the behavior in place in the first place. This process of identification and, it must be said, analysis at multiple levels has only just begun.

 

                                                                 

                                           

                           Driving Me Crazy

I have reached that Golden Age, whatever that means, and there are things that drive me crazy in my life. I guess I am a cranky old man.

 Movies today can cost up to 450 million dollars depending on the cast, location and setting, extras, administration, and distribution costs. How do they control their costs? They do it by filming in the dark. There is no need for props; the actors are often dubbed in. The problem for the viewer is that one cannot see anything, even when watching in a completely darkened room. You can hear the action but can’t see anything.

 On a multi-lane highway, the left lane is called the passing lane. It is not the lane to drive under the speed limit while talking on the phone. On the contrary, tailgating someone who rightfully is passing someone is dangerous and more than discourteous. In Vermont, it’s not unusual in a state with primarily single-lane roads, many dirt, to have someone passing you over a double line or driving well below the speed limit, causing you to think that it would be nice to bump into them and run them off the road.

 I know some brilliant people who are absolute morons. They may have a high IQ, but that doesn’t prevent them from making stupid decisions. The same is true for people with low IQs. For example, the MAGA followers, their supreme commander Donald J. Trump, and many GOP members are prime examples.

 

Have you ever received an email addressed to many people only to have them “reply all,” jamming up your inbox with unwanted inane wittering? Have you ever unsubscribed from a site only to not have it work? Have you ever received an email from someone that tells you that they have collected money from you for a service when you have never heard of them and there is no way for them to do that? Have you ever emailed someone who never replies or only answers one question when you have asked two? Have you ever received an email that ended up in your Spam folder for no reason?

  Door handles in public toilets that you have to pull when exiting. I’ve just washed and dried my hands, and now I have to touch the grimy door that everyone who didn’t wash their hands touched.

When people recite a phone number on a message too fast, I have to replay it six times to write it down. Slow down!

Wait staff who put the cutlery directly onto the table that you know was wiped with a skanky, dirty cloth 5 minutes ago. Germs! Please put it on a napkin or a plate!

Why do manufacturers pack items in that sealed hard plastic that is impossible to open? You need a hunting knife to pierce that stuff and take your life into your hands to cut it away. Scissors, ironically, are always packed like this.

Over-sharers on Facebook. Do you have to check yourself in ten times daily so everyone knows you’re at the gym, at lunch, making baked beans for dinner, watching Netflix? NO ONE CARES.

 Do I need to know Kim Kardashian ate a salad and used pine nuts instead of walnuts? Why is this news?

 Autocorrect insists that I would like to follow “Michelle” with “Obama” every time I type it.

 Leaving the dish scrubber in the sink with the dirty dishes. I don’t want to reach into the mucky water to find the thing. And if it’s gross, I have to clean it off so I can use it to scrub the dishes. Come on!”

  People making a phone call while simultaneously making a transaction with a live human being in front of them. “

 The weatherman predicts, “A sunny day coming up…a good day to go to the beach.” You pack up and head to the beach only to have it begin raining. It’s one of the few occupations where you can be wrong and not get fired.

 Restaurants that have TVs going plus songs piped in. If I want to watch TV or listen to music, I’ll eat at home or turn the radio on in my car. Massive noise and salads do not mix.

 Calling companies and getting messages saying: “Your call is important to us.” If it’s that important, perhaps you should answer the phone.

 

Potholes, ruts, and other bumps can take a chunk out of car owners’ wallets.

 

When I spill/break/drop stuff. Besides the mess factor, spilling/breaking/dropping stuff makes me feel klutzy and old.

 People who invade your personal space while waiting. I could never understand the need for someone to stand right next to, behind, or even beside you while waiting.

People who purposely leave letters out of words they are texting or using anachronisms that require me to Google to find the meaning. NSFW, IMHO, B4N, etc.

 Tonail Fungus Commercials. Please, stop the insanity. I have to turn my head during this awful display of toenail dysfunctions. Yuck!

Pop-up screens. I have found a way to avoid them. So when I am exposed to them, it makes me think ugly thoughts about the product it advertises.

 And so on and so on.

 These aggravations of life are not going away, so what do we do with them? Get them off our chests! I just did. Thanks for letting me vent. Just call me a cranky old man.