Friday, June 22, 2018

"CDC: U.S. Suicide Rates Have Climbed Dramatically"

"Real Engine in a Barbie Car!"

Four for Fridays!

Good morning everyone how are you dealing with this roller coaster of weather and the rain. The Root River is very high again and on the news they said to watch out for it to flood. This weather is not helping my back out at all. Here are your questions.

1) Have you ever had a flood were ever you have lived?

2) When it was raining have you ever had to pull over because you could not see?

3) Have you ever been out and got struck by lighting?

4) When you were younger did you go out in the rain playing?

I hope we have a nice dry weekend. I hope you have a great weekend.

Open Blog - Friday

Hooray for Friday!

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Dear Madame Zoltar

Hello, my dears and fears!  How are you?  Did you survive the big spring heatwave of 2018?  Doesn't it feel good now?  Well, tomorrow is the official first day of summer, so I assume we'll have plenty of heat ahead.  I like a little heat.  I don't like it hot.  I don't like my underwear soaked in sweat.  I don't like my makeup falling off in chunks.  And I don't like 5 inches of rain in 5 minutes, or whatever we had.  For the first time in decades, the basement is flooded.  Not a big, deep flood, but still some water in the center of rooms.  I'm not even checking my root cellar.  I'm going to assume that all on board drowned in the flood.  I'm going to give it time to empty.

The boys can't get much yard work done with weather like this.  It's too wet.  Not too long ago, it was too dry.  Thus are the vagaries of landscape maintenance.  And even if we have a perfect summer, someone else won't.  The weather isn't fair or even necessarily sane.  Ma Nature is AWOL, and all hell is breaking loose.  I foresee a shift in the polar extremes.  A complete reversal of everything.  It's going to get mighty weird.

How weird is the forced separation of children from their parents at the border?  We now have over 2,300 children in custody.  What a mess.  This will definitely affect legal crossings in the future.  It's back to the coyotes.

Mayor McMason announced a study to study studies in Racine county.  It is hoped to gain some insight into the behavior and proliferation of studies.  I think the studies are getting together and making little baby studies that grow into adults.  Tsk-tsk!  Such behavior must stop.  Who ends up paying to support these children?  We do, of course.  Study that, McMason!

My, it's so much quieter with the exit of Mr. Ex-Mayor Lying John.  It's no less corrupt, just quieter.  The right palms still have to be greased if you want to succeed in Racine.  Knowing the mayor is a plus.  Kissing his rather large butt is a plus plus.

A bakery has opened in downtown.  There goes my diet!  I love fresh baked foods.  Add fresh coffee or milk or CocaCola for the perfect "continental breakfast."  It's the real thing!  Things go better with Coke.  "Things" and Coke apparently have a strong relationship.  Coke is always telling things how to act.

Finally, here's a video on sleeping.  It was requested by a reader:

I love you all and thank you for reading my blog.  It's always wonderful to have company.

Watch out for kids on the streets.  It's summer and the time is right for playing in the streets.
Please donate: 
If you don't like PayPal, send me a note at and I'll send you my street address so you can send a check or money order.  Thank you.

Open Blog - Wednesday

Have a good one.

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Google Is Threatening Me With Account Termination

For violations of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA).  If I lose the account, I'm not fighting it.  I need a break, permanent or otherwise.  (What is the sign above attached to?)

"Let's Have One More"

From The Shepherd Express:
I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh manischewitz what a world, ain’a? And because it’s that time of year, again I’m reminded that the only thing people want to read are the directions on a can of bug spray, and they do so with the attention span of a United States president who lost a popular vote by a boatload. So I’m declaring my independence from delivering a full-blown essay this week, what the fock.
Besides, you’re probably too busy keeping up with the World Cup soccer to bother with anything I’ve got to say. Me? No way, José. Now, if they could use more balls than just one, like maybe four or five; then maybe they’d have a focking score you could write home about and I might warm up to the game.
I’ve always maintained that if they want the American viewer to watch the TV soccer, they ought to add a little mystery and danger, say, before every match they plant a landmine somewheres on the field. Now maybe somebody’d step on it, and maybe not. But they’d sure have my attention, yes sir.
And gosh darn and damn it, just last week as I was handing out kudos to a couple, three readers for sending my way encouraging words, I plum forgot a nice note from reader David S. who enjoyed a quote I used by way of the great Groucho Marx—a quote the reader had once used in a song he had written, I kid you not.
So David, here’s a pair of Groucho quotes perhaps for future songs you got percolating:
“I’m not crazy about reality, but it’s still the only place to get a decent meal.” Ba-ding!
And here’s one where Groucho, who left us in 1977, whips out his crystal ball and assays the 2016 presidential election result: “He may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot, but don’t let that fool you. He really is an idiot.”
Oh Julius, how I miss you.
OK, one more: “I intend to live forever, or die trying.” Yes sir, that’s the spirit. Ba-ding-ding-ding.
And about this immigration brouhaha hullabaloo here in the Amber Waves of Grain, it surely appears to me that God must be clean out of grace for the shedding on thee, what the fock. Allow me to quote an old proverb from sunny Spain: “A man who prides himself on his ancestry is like the potato plant, the best part of which is under ground.”
And this: Who better to quote than my favorite ancient Greek philosopher, Anonymous? “More important than where you are from is where you are going”—which, for the politically fanaticized ass-hat kingpin white-collar criminals in this presidential “administration” I pray would be straight to hell and not soon enough, you betcha.
Hey, and speaking of Greece, don’t forget about Greek Fest out at State Fair Park this weekend. Geia sou! Yeah yeah, the Greeks have been having a hard time of it lately, but I’ll tell you one thing: When it comes to trend setting, those ancient Greeks from the fossil age had it down stone cold. Every single one of their top celebrities were known by one name only, as some of ours are today in the modern times—take Euripides for example, one of their hot-shot playwrighter guys from the theater, sort of the David Mamet-type of his day but without all the dirty focking language.
But why I think of him as we round that middle-corner of June with this year’s Father’s Day recently past, is that ol’ ’Rip once wrote something I can’t get out of my head:
The gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children.
Yeah, focking swell. Hey, there’s a sentiment bound to make a guy or gal rush right out on any given Father’s Day to go buy a goddamn necktie or gift-wrapped box of pipe cleaners for the old gent who wears the pants in the family, ain’a? And to think Eurip’ wrote that before the trouser was even discovered. What a world.
Although it is true what they say—that you can pick your friends but not your family (which by the way, blows big-time)—I truly hope that what Euripides wrote more than 2,400 years back ain’t necessarily so. Let us not forget that a lot of the science findings those methuselah Greeks invented were later to be proved as nothing but a steaming pile of so much bull-shish kebab.
But if the old Greek’s words are true, then you got to do your best to think that maybe it’s not your old man’s fault you are as unwittingly screwed up as he is—so blame it instead on the gods for the world going to hell in a handbasket but good, generation after generation after generation. After all, chances are pretty damn good pop’s a heck of a wreck through good intentions only, what the fock.
Anything’s possible, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.


Open Blog - Tuesday

That's blinding.