Thank goodness for Governor Snotball, who over the weekend explained to all us ignorant NYers (using his most patient “trying to explain complex concepts to stupid people” voice – the same one he uses when explaining why millionaires should keep getting tax cuts so they can keep creating the jobs that they haven’t actually been creating) how when there’s wet, heavy snow and the leaves are on the trees, the trees fall down. Thank goodness he explained all that. I think he mentioned he saw trees once when he was a kid, when his dad took him on a safari north of Westchester into the mountains and he saw a wild cow. Very scary.

All this snow so early in the season is, of course, proof that Al Gore is a fat, lying bastard. I know, ‘cuz I saw it in the comments on the snow reports. If it’s Global Warming, how come it snowed, Al? Huh? Answer me that one.

No snow up here in the Miami of the Northeast, of course, but I did spend the weekend trying to prepare for winter, on the odd chance that we might get a cold snap for, oh, I don’t know, six months or so. All the storm windows are in, which, in theory, shouldn’t be a big deal because they’re just the kind that pop into place where the screens go. As is often the case with theories (like Evolution, Global Warming, and Gravity), however, what “should” be easy turned out to be a big annoying pain in the ass. Especially when I can upon the one set of windows that – unlike all the other ones that look to be the same size – have 43½” high slots. Try as I might to shove, pry, and beat 44″ high storm windows into them, I could not. I’m pleased to report that I didn’t actually break them, though, and once I decided to actually measure them and find the right storms, my job was complete. Well, except for the fact that I ran out of rope caulk to shove in the gaps. A job for next weekend, I guess.

I also got the plow out and on the tractor, and am pleased to report that the tractor fits in the garage with both the back blade and the plow on. I also got the tire chains on, which was a bit of a project because last year took its toll on them, and they’re cobbled together with quick links. But, with a new set of straps and links, they look good to go. Hopefully the tractor will now sit idle until it’s time to put the mower back on. Not much chance of that, but I can dream.

One minor tragedy from the weekend, though, as my air grease gun no longer appears to dispense grease. Fortunately, it waited until I put a fresh tube in. My last one as it turns out, and, like the horse and the barn, it’s pretty hard to get the grease back out. My other grease gun was (of course) empty, but Sunday is my day to head into Pixley to pick up a week’s worth of vittles, so I’m now reloaded and ready to lube.

I’ve gotten used to the laser hair removal commercials on the early lo-cal news program (featuring a chick who looks wasted and entirely too enthusiastic about thrusting her pelvis into the face of a hair removal technician in order to tidy up her bikini line). Apparently they figure early morning news viewers are a hairy bunch. But now they’re targeting males with a “buy one body part, get another body part free” offer. If I was going to buy a body part, it wouldn’t be one you’d find on a hairy dude (not that there’s anything wrong with that), but this does make me wonder if guys are worried about unsightly body hair these days.

Other than a unibrow (which seems to have dissipated in my old age), excessive hair has never been one of my problems, so I never really gave it much thought (there was a guy on my floor in college who looked like a gorilla, though; ironically, his nickname was “Fish” but that was ‘cuz his name was Fishbein or something), and I’m not sure I’d spend much time (let alone money) worrying about it, even if I had a horse mane down my back. In fact, it might be kinda nice when the weather gets cold.

It’s bad enough they make you women crazy with this shit, do they have to start with men, too? Let’s face it, we’re supposed to be hairy and sweaty and pudgy and childish. It’s what makes us so damn charming and lovable.

Speaking of charming and lovable, how ’bout that Herman Cain? Or “Hermain” as I seem to want to type his name. I guess Pizza isn’t the only thing ol’ Herm delivers with his motivational speeches.

During Herman Cain’s tenure as the head of the National Restaurant Association in the 1990s, at least two female employees complained to colleagues and senior association officials about inappropriate behavior by Cain, ultimately leaving their jobs at the trade group, multiple sources confirm to POLITICO.

The women complained of sexually suggestive behavior by Cain that made them angry and uncomfortable, the sources said, and they signed agreements with the restaurant group that gave them financial payouts to leave the association.

Normally I’d take any report from Politico with a grain of salt, but Cain always had a hint of Clarence Thomas about him. I bet he wears his excess hair as a badge of honor – like a real man.

Fortunately, these reports have thrust (so to speak) Hermain into the lead in Iowa. This is huge, because it’s up to the 237 voters in Iowa and the 186 in New Hampshire to determine who the next president should be. Cain/Bachmann 2012. Now there’s a winning combination (and a pretty darn cute couple, I must say).

As if President Cain wasn’t a scary enough prospect for you, it’s Halloween, and the streets will be filled with little bastards ghosts, ghouls, and goblins tonight. And zombies, I guess. They’re big this year, from what I understand.

I don’t know if anybody will wander up our driveway or not, but I don’t plan on doing anything to encourage them, and they’re SOL if they show up, ‘cuz about the best I can do for them is a handful of almonds and maybe some salad.

Speaking of which, time to get my lunch ready so I can get out there and face another work week.

In case you missed it, St. Louis won the World Series, officially ending the 9-month baseball season. It’s starting to look like there’ll be no NBA this year (are these people really that stupid? Seems like everybody’s leaving an awful lot of money on the table), though I’m only slightly more interested in pro basketball than I am in baseball. Too many games that don’t eliminate enough teams from the playoffs, so any individual game is all but meaningless. Plus the players look bored most of the time. But I suppose if we still had an NBA team here, I’d feel a lot different.

As I have no life and am up at stupid hours in the morning (up at 3:45 this morning – on a damn Saturday, ferchrissakes), I watch a lot of DIY and HGTV (which are actually infomercial channels way early, which I don’t watch – ‘cuz when I do, I wind up buying something like the Kreg Pocket Hole jig or the Rockwell Jawhorse). So, anyhow, I’m watching ‘Disaster DIY’ (which is a show where a contractor dude goes and helps clueless people finish projects; being clueless myself, I enjoy this). Anyhow, so I’m watching one this morning, and the wife is trying to get her husband to finish his project – in particular, to get the bathroom finished – and she says, “as a woman, I need a bathroom.” Now, granted, dudes have more options available but still, as a man, I, too, need a bathroom. Especially at this time of year.

Speaking of this time of year, I reckon it’s time to get the tire chains on the tractor. Hopefully that’ll stave off the snow for a while.

I knew it was supposed to snow yesterday, but I wasn’t anticipating the near white-out conditions on part of my drive home last night, let any actual accumulation. Not that we got 11″ or anything, but damned if we didn’t get enough out my way to cover the grass. I even had to clear the dish off – and I don’t remember doing that at all last year, though, now that I think about it, I didn’t get the dish until spring, so I guess that’s why. Looks like I’ll be needing a broom with a longer handle. It’s cold this morning, too – like, 20 something. Things aren’t looking promising for that mild winter I was hoping for (though, as I mentioned previously, the woolly bears are predicting a rough start and end, with a nice long, mild middle). Still, I’m really not mentally prepared for this.

I did, however, survive my Annual Health Assessment yesterday, with the nurse apparently feeling it necessary to remind me that I’m over 50 – as if I wasn’t already painfully (literally) aware of that. This means, she said, that I should get both a prostate exam and a colonoscopy. Seems that when you hit 50, Western Medicine becomes fixated with shoving things up your ass. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Not only is today the final Friday in October, but it also would have been my parents’ 65^th wedding anniversary. My dad was 26 – fresh back from ‘The War,’ and my mom was only 22. That sure seems awfully young.

Hell, I have underwear older than that – though the elastic isn’t as snappy as it used to be.

Then again, neither am I.

Today is AHA day. Yes, a squadron of nurses (like, 2, but don’t let that fool you; more than one nurse in the same place is always dangerous. In fact, just one can be trouble) will descend upon my work location, admonishing people about their high blood pressures and tsk-tsking at those who refuse flu shots. Last I saw, the flu shot was rated as having a 60% efficacy rate across all age groups. The older you get, the less likely it is to do anything for you. I suspect that even that 60% number is inflated, and I’d love to see studies testing the efficacy of smudging your home sage and/or taking oil of oregano at the first signs of illness. Oh well, never try to get between people and their religion.

I just read a “news” story that said “pour over” brewing is now the latest scam trend in gourmet coffee. You know, like back when you were in college and you couldn’t afford a Mr. Coffee, so you put a filter in a funnel and poured boiling water over it and into your cup? Yep, that’s “hip” now. I guess that helps to justify paying out the nose for a cup of shitty coffee.

Tonight, they’re unveiling our latest sports team – the Silver Nights of the Major Indoor Soccer League. Good luck with that. If they thought the AHL hockey team had a hard time competing with SU basketball, wait ’til they see how badly an indoor soccer team is ignored around here.

“Hey, it’s cold and snowy tonight. Let’s go see some soccer.”

Somehow, I just don’t think that’s gonna catch on.

It’s rare that the lo-cal news morons make me laugh (except for the weather guy – he’s just so goofy, likable, and corny, I can’t help myself), but today they showed video of Chaz Bono being booted off ‘Dancing with the Stars,’ and the anchor dude said Chaz “took it like a man.” :rofl2:

Sorry. I just thought that was pretty funny.

Not so funny, though, is the hint of snow in the air. Not a lot of snow, but it’s in the forecast for tomorrow. It’s sad to see, because you just plain never know how it’s gonna go around here, and I hate to see it start.

There are years when it gets cold early and stays that way and seems to snow every day. They even had the obligatory story on the DPW, which says they have 7 plows ready to go year-round, and four more that can be good to go in four hours. Not sure how long it takes to get the rest of the fleet changed over. And they say the “salt barns” are loaded and ready to go.

I guess I better think about getting the snow tires on.

I used to think Les Paul invented the electric guitar, but then I heard a story on NPR, which I think is this one here. Electric guitar-wise, Les Paul was more of an innovator than an inventor – and he certainly invented and innovated all kinds of stuff. As I recall, he didn’t want to amplify a hollow body guitar, but wanted to make a solid body one (and made one by putting strings and pickups on a 2×4 – affectionately known as “the log”). Apparently he nearly electrocuted himself while experimenting. Eventually he perfected it, and, displaying great prescience, the folks at Gibson said, “nah, that’ll never catch on.”

So a fellow by the name of Leo Fender beat him to market with the first solid body electric guitar, thus sparking a great debate which continues to this day:

What’s better, a Gibson Les Paul, or a Fender Stratocaster?

I report, you decide.

I don’t get much of an opportunity to watch the NFL these days, and I knew the Colts were having an “off” year (to put it politely), but, damn, I see the Saints dropped 62 points on them yesterday. Cool. And the Lord Almighty led Denver to a victory over The Fish, using Timmy Tebow as His instrument. Seems God was wearing His orange and blue this weekend. Let’s hope He keeps it from now right through ’til March Madness (which ends in what, April these days?).

But, alas, the weekend is over and it’s time to go back to work again. No more long weekends planned for me until Thanksgiving. That sucks.

Billboards aside, the Internets say George Beauchamp (though multiple people were working on it), and he appears to hold the patent – #2,089,171. I think Oklahoma needs to quit buying their textbooks from Texas.

Early day – time to go.

After being up for 23 or so hours, then getting less than 3 hours sleep and staying up for another 15, you’d think I’d have been able to stay in bed for a while this morning. Sadly, I was awake before 4:00. I’d heard this not sleeping thing happens when you get old, and while I never really thought it would happen to me, it appears this is just how my life will be from now on – which is probably OK, since I’m not that far from the ‘eternal sleep.’ Not that I’m looking to check out anytime soon, of course.

I spent a pretty fair amount of time in the tractor seat yesterday, for the first time in a while. On the orders of the wife, I’m in the process of removing what was once a decorative pond, but is now mostly a stink hole. The first order of business was to try and get the liner pulled up (or at least sufficiently shredded to pieces to allow it to drain) without rolling the tractor into it and drowning. I’d hate to die on a Saturday with a ton of sick leave and vacation time on the books.

Unfortunately, I feel quite horrible about all the frogs. Here I come in and destroy the only world they’ve ever known, and they just hop away – terrified – looking for a place to hide under the ever decreasing water with their little eyes blinking up and me, wondering why. It was bad enough pulling them from the swimming pool skimmer, but to actively seek out and destroy them, well, as I said, I felt awful. I only hope they’ve managed to relocate – though there isn’t actually any water nearby (which begs the question, “where the hell do they come from?” I mean, I dunno about where you live, but here, if you get a little rain in the spring, you wind up with a puddle full of pollywogs).

Anyhow, I shredded and tore and filled what I could, and hopefully the water will have diminished by some time today. Problem is, everything is clay around here – that shit is like cement and doesn’t exactly drain rapidly. It also doesn’t come off your boots, pants, tire treads (you do not wanna get your tires buried in this stuff), or anything else that comes in contact with it.

Yesterday was a cold(ish), cloudy, windy, damp (muddy) day, so, between that and the exhaustion (not only from lack of sleep, but also from spending Friday night more or less hollering as loud as I could manage), I’m sure I’m ripe for pneumonia or a sinus infection (or at least a cold). So I guess I better start pounding the Oil of Oregano.

There’s no time in the budget for being sick – or sleeping.

I’m pretty tired right now, having stayed up way, way, WAY past my bedtime last night. I didn’t even get home until about 1AM, and then I felt compelled to watch a certain football game that I’d recorded while I was out. I only made it ’til halftime (guess I’ll have to watch the rest this morning – which ought to bore Granny to tears), but I still didn’t get to bed until about 3:00, and then I was up at six. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. It was nice to see Floyd Little at halftime (I don’t think I’ve seen him “in person” since I was about 5 years old), and the game wasn’t half bad either. It will be at least a few days before my voice comes back.

Good thing I had yesterday off and got some stuff done, ‘cuz I’m thinking I won’t be good for much today. Especially since I managed to drop the mower deck on my foot (my “bad” foot, too – though, if it wasn’t the bad one before, it sure as hell is now). Fortunately, I took my typical safety precautions and was wearing a pair of sneakers instead of, like, work boots.

As if that wasn’t enough, I managed to somehow hurt the ankle on the other leg. This getting old shit blows.

So I think maybe today I’ll just have to hang out and not play my new guitar. Yes, I bought an electric one as kind of a birthday present for myself (and, no, it isn’t actually my birthday, so no need to send presents – unless you’re bound and determined to, in which case, I’ll post a link to my Amazon Wish List). In fact, I bought a very cheap Fender knockoff “kit,” complete with a practice amp, picks, strap, and a “gig bag” that will be nice when I go on tour. The most important thing, of course, is that it has a whammy bar. I’ve removed the label that proudly identified it as be “handcrafted in China” (made from the finest melamine, no doubt). So now I guess I need to buy a wah-wah pedal, envelope filter (so I can sound like Jerry Garcia), and maybe a fuzzbox. And a bigger amp.

If I could actually play, I would be totally awesome.

But for now, I think I need more coffee (and then go add a wah-wah pedal, fuzzbox, envelope filter, and bigass amp to my Amazon Wish List).

I think I speak for every American who types for a living and/or as a hobby, when I say how happy I am that the former leader of Libya is now officially out of office. There are just too goddamn many ways to spell his name, and I’ve always tried to avoid it, though I mostly liked to think of him as Colonel Gadaffy Duck. As I’ve mentioned before, we’ve had a special relationship with Col. Duck here in Syracuse, what with him ordering the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 and all. Ironic that the guy they put in prison for that seems to have outlived the Duckman, isn’t it? I say “seems to” because I’m certain that we’ll be hearing the conspiracy theories soon that Gadaffy is actually alive and living on an island off the coast of Argentina with Hitler, Osama, Saddam, Elvis, Jim Morrison, and JFK. Yes, yesterday was certainly an exciting day, as exemplified by Sec State Hillary Clinton (who is letting her hair go long – I like it; she should let it go gray and get that whole crazy cat lady thing going), who, upon hearing the news, said, “wow.”

Speaking of exciting, it was another exciting finish in game two of the world series last night (yes, I realize that “exciting baseball” is kind of an oxymoron), as one team I wouldn’t give a crap about even if I gave a crap about baseball beat another team I wouldn’t care about either, except I’d rather have the latter win the series just because the former will always be associated with Dubya. Though Rick Perry could probably use the bump that would be associated with a “winner.” But who can possibly care about baseball when it’s football season?

Not only is it football season, but tonight is the big game between SU and West Virginia – which will be highlighted by a rare appearance at the Dome by yours truly (depending on what time The Rapture Part 2 kicks in, of course).

At halftime, they’ll be remembering Ernie Davis, who became the first black guy to win the Heisman Trophy 50 years ago this year. No doubt, Floyd Little will be on hand to say a few words.

I will, of course, be wearing my Ernie Davis #44 replica jersey (the orange one, not the white one), which I only trot out on game occasions (I bought it as a birthday present for myself back when I turned 44 years old – which was longer ago than I’d care to think about).

The winner of the game gets to keep the Ben Schwartzwalder Trophy (named, ironically enough, for WV native Ben Schwartzwalder, who played center for West Virginia back in olde tyme leather helmet days and coached a football team here in Central New York).

We’ve played WV more times than anybody else with the exception of Colgate, and it’s always a big game for us, though apparently WV doesn’t actually give a shit – at least according to WV AD and former QB Oliver Luck.

“In fact, I would trade Air Force or Navy for Syracuse every day of the week in terms of the quality of the football program.”

Well, fuck you, too, Ollie. No doubt you’re bitter because you were 0-4 against SU when you were playing.

What with SU heading to the ACC and WV trying to wangle its way to the SEC or Big 12, whoever wins tonight may get to keep the trophy for a long, long time.

Sadly, seeing as WV is playing very well and ranked #11 in the country and Syracuse is, um, not so much, it’s liable to be a very long night for yours truly (and not just because the game doesn’t even start until the time that I’m usually snuggled up in bed with my Kindle). My hope is that it won’t be totally embarrassing.

Anyhow, if you get bored tonight, tune in to ESPN and look for me. I’ll be the guy wearing an orange #44 jersey (should only be a couple thousand of them). Don’t expect to hear from me in the morning (not that anybody cares, I realize), because not only will I probably be out until well past midnight (in fact, what with the game being on TV, I’m not likely to get home much earlier than I normally get out of bed in the morning), but odds are I’ll be terribly pissed-off and depressed.

And then Vernon (and Oliver Luck) will be able to gloat.