Two Things Can Be Right

    I hesitated to write this, because I know some people will be shocked.

    Early voting in Virginia opened on September 20^th.  I voted on the 24^th.  The reason I voted early is because I will working at the polls on Election Day.  Since I won’t be in my assigned precinct, I won’t be able to leave during the day.

    I would have gone early in any event, because God knows the circus sideshow it will be come November 5^th.   Weather, equipment “malfunctions,” or any number of shenanigans from either side…yeah, I won’t want any part of that.

    For those of you saying. “Well, golly, Ken, if you’re there ON Election Day, won’t you be impacted by the very things you’re worried about?”  To you I say, not really, because I’ll be safe inside.  Although, I can’t discount the almost certainty that we’ll have to deal with some crazies inside.

Okay, this is Black Friday.

"Friday of Color."

Well, it'll be close, is what I'm saying.

    Since I’ll be helping curbside voters, bad weather could be a factor, I suppose.  However, since I won’t have to be driving in it (with the exception of getting there at 4:45 am), I’m not worried.  Yes, the internet could go out or pipes could “mysteriously” burst, but that would be a game day problem.

    I thought that going early would shield me from a long line and, thus, long wait.  I’m here to tell you, though, that nothing could be farther from the truth.  Even as early as I went, I had to wait close to an hour.

    I can only imagine how the wait will be in November.

    Even so, I was a little uneasy.  As is common practice throughout the nation, partisans of this political party or that are stationed at least 40 feet away to hand out campaign literature and, frankly, harangue those of us in line.

    Not for nothin’, if you haven’t made up your mind by the time you get there, you have real problems.

    Can you imagine?  “You know, I was going to vote ‘X.’ But, boy howdy, you’ve convinced me!  I’m voting ‘Y’!”

    One particular individual (neither Republican nor Democrat) was especially vocal in his denunciation of those presently in charge.  And, by “vocal,” I mean “obnoxious.”  He also was wearing a handgun on his hip.

Apparently, it's legal. 
But, just because you can do something, does not mean you should do something.   
FULL DISCLOSURE:  I own a couple weapons myself and have a Concealed Carry Permit.

    Anyway, he caught the ire of a lady handing out her own party’s literature and being equally “vocal” to innocent voters (I don’t know which party she represented and it doesn’t matter).  They began chirping at each other and I thought blows were fixing to be exchanged.  They really got into each other’s faces as I nervously inched closer to the “Forty Foot Demarcation Line.”

    A man several people behind me scolded them, saying, “You know, it’s people like you who’ve brought this country into the sorry state it is.”

    I don’t know which party he belonged to, either, and it really doesn’t matter.  Unless he’s a member of the “Grownup Party.”  Because he was absolutely right.

    At that point, I knew that my experience on the actual Election Day would be a real zoo.

"I love the zoo, no joke! 
Maybe afterwards, Dr. Jill can take me for some ice cream!"

    Okay, how did I vote, the two of you reading this may be wondering?  To be honest, I’ve gone round and round on this issue for months.  To possibly tick off some of you, there was no way on this planet I would ever support Kamala Harris.  How a woman who didn’t earn a single primary vote accuse her opponent of being a “threat to democracy” is mind-blowing.

    I wish people would stop kidding themselves by thinking she would have weathered a primary process.

    Plus, she’s an imbecile.

"From the middle class, m'kay?"

   No sense trying to convince me otherwise.

    So, that left me with Donald Trump.  I debated with myself whether I should go “Team Orange” as the lesser of two evils.  It was the toughest thing I’ve had to struggle with since I started voting (for Gerald Ford) in 1976.  When all was said and done, though, I still would be voting for evil.

"Fire and brimstone are that way.  Believe me, it's the most excellent
damnation you'll find anywhere."

    Still, I’m a Conservative (not a Republican) and felt that he should be “my guy.”  Then, he’d sell a pair sneakers or post “I hate Taylor Swift” on Truth Social.

Dear Lord, to say nothing of this.

    And I’d go all wobbly again.

    I get what the other side represents, though, and it horrifies me.  That said, I can appreciate the dilemma of those who see Kamala as the alternative to (who they perceive as) the Anti-Christ.  Their “lesser of two evils” could very well be the Cackler.  I understand and respect their position.

    On the other hand, there are those who have always voted Democrat and will always vote Democrat, because the media tells them so.  Even if their “guy” was Satan.  The same goes for lockstep Republicans. 

    Those people are knuckleheads.

    So, I decided that, while I hope Republicans win, Donald Trump will have to do it without my vote.  I can’t ever imagine a scenario where he loses by one or the contest is tied.  In which case, the whole shebang will go the House of Representatives.

    If that happens, I’ll feel very badly.  But, there’s a better chance of the New York Giants winning the Super Bowl.

    So, what did I do?  I wrote in “Ron De Santis.”

"So you're telling me there's a chance?"

    

    Yes, I realize that it was a wasted voted.  Okay, sue me.  But, I wanted to be true to myself and not cast my support to a man who sells his own trading cards.  It's my vote and I'll vote how I want to.

    Please resist the urge to tell me how I was wrong or why I should have voted for him or her.  That doesn’t matter, either, because, as Julius Caesar said when he crossed the Rubicon, “The die is cast!,” or “Let the dice fly!”

Or he may have said, "Hey, did you check out the jugs on that Gaul?"
Sources are unclear

    My point is, the deed is done.

    Because…

    Kamala Harris and Donald Trump.

    In my opinion…are both massively unfit to be our president.

    Two things can be right, ya know.

 

Winter Is Coming

But not before the leaves

At 8:44 AM (EDT), we welcome the return of Autumn, also known as “Fall” (as in “Fall of Leaves.”  You’re welcome).

 NOTE:  The fact that the timing of Fall centers around Eastern Daylight Time is a bit East Coast-centric, don’tcha think?  What’s more, the fact we call it “Fall” is Northern Hemisphere-centric, don’tcha think?

 Atmospheric Fall (or Atmospheric Spring, for those south of the equator.  G’day, Mates) occurs when the sun is directly above an equatorial point 461nm South-Southwest of Monrovia, Liberia.

 

"Liberia is a small country, okay?  In a big continent called 'Africa,' okay?
  I don't know whether they have a middle class, but I'm sure they do. 
Which is how I grew up, okay?"

ANOTHER NOTE:  Why 461 miles southwest of Liberia?  I don’t know.  I mean it would make more sense if that equated to Zero degrees Longitude, or Greenwich Mean Time, but, it doesn’t.  It’s all just random to me.  If one of the two of you reading this knows the answer, please let me know.  To be honest, though, I don’t much care.

NOTE FOLLOWING THE NOTE:  We take this moment for those who are products of the American public school system:  Monrovia, Liberia, is the capital city of the African nation of Liberia.  Now the topic of Liberia is a post for another time.  Suffice to say it was the region of Africa to which American slaves were shipped during the presidency of…James Monroe.

 

"Pretty frikkin' clever, huh?"

To those technical in nature (i.e., nerds), today also marks the first day of the “Autumnal Equinox.”  This is a Latin phrase (thank you, Romans!):  “Autumnal” for “Autumn” (duh) and “Equinox” for “Equal Night.”

"Hey, any time!"

 Basically, what this means is that today we will have an equal number of daylight and nighttime hours.  This, actually, is a gross oversimplification of reality.  For instance, among other things, it doesn’t take into account the concept of twilight.

Wrong twilight

There’s a whole bunch of other scientific mumbo-jumbo about why daylight and nighttime aren’t really equal, but I didn’t feel like reading it with my eyes glazed over.  

Plus, football’s nearly on.

Or whatever the Giants call it.

Suffice it to say, there will be fewer and fewer hours of daylight as we lurch toward December and the Winter Solstice (a day which the Romans celebrated as the feast of Sol Invictus, or “Unconquered Sun.”  Again with the Romans).  

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Unconquered Sun.  Whatever.  Little busy here."

Then, winter will really be here and the hours of daylight will increase.

"Told you."

 

Of course, we may be over a month into our civil war by then, so it probably won’t matter much.

 

At which time, we should all start drinking heavily

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go give my trees the stink-eye.

Everywhere a Sign

Blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind.

As my head hurts with local, national, and international news, I'm reluctant to jump in with a serious post.  So, I try to think about many other things.

No.  Not that.

That's more like it.

My thoughts drift to the song from the Five Man Electrical Band, called, uh, "Signs."  I realize that there are signs everywhere.  Some are kind of brutal and mean (e.g., "Let's Go Brandon"), but a lot of signs are just downright funny.  What's even funnier are those which don't mean to be funny.

I looked at my collection of signs, both recent and from years past.  So, before the election season shifts into high gear (don't worry-if you are-I won't be able to help myself as we get closer to Election Day and civil war.

"So, let's get to it."

Whenever I see this sign, I often wonder,
is this a natural result of speed dating?

 

Frankly, the thought terrifies me.
Even in this age of DEI.

It was only natural that this would be just down the street, though.

Glad to know that fruit trees are here. 
Although, they didn't need to be so insulting.

Cocaine is in Aisle 8. 
Thank you for visiting your Shop n Bag.

That's why it's a dangerous intersection.  Ohhhhhh....

Next to the Thingamajig display

That should do it.

I wonder...is the word "fun" even necessary?

Well, that just seems mean.

My next what?

I'm not sure, but I'll bet the Norwegians are pretty hacked off. 
Those dirty Norwegians.

If you've forgotten your hooker, one will be provided at the door.

Has anyone told Al Sharpton?

This just doesn't seem fair. 
Unless the motorcycle sucks.

That has to be some watch.

Okay, maybe Fords.

And, finally, one of my favorite accidental bits of humor...

Insert tasteless political joke for the campaign trail here.

Who Let the Dogs Out?

 Now, I'm not saying Trump mentioning people eating cats and dogs was not a stupid, stupid thing to say.

It was.

However, like reports of Joe Biden crapping his drawers while in Normandy, the PERCEPTION of Joe Biden crapping his britches while in Normandy is there (whether it's true or not).  And a point of mockery for those inclined to mock.

Which I am.

At any rate, the PERCEPTION of Haitians eating peoples' pets in Ohio is out there (whether it's true or not).

So, let the mocking commence.

Related...
I don't believe the stories about Michelle, but...
PERCEPTION

 

The Next Day

September 12, 2001
Naval Air Station
Keflavik, Iceland

 

Another Day Which Will Live In Infamy

 What you are about to read is a repeat of a post I wrote nearly 23 years ago.  I keep reposting it for as long as I can because I will never forget.  

            It was just before one o’clock in the afternoon on September 11th (a sad commentary: we don’t even need to identify the year anymore.  Even sadder?  All I needed to do was type "September 11" in Duck, Duck, Go) when my maintenance supervisor stuck his head into my room to wake me.

            “Sir, someone just flew a plane into the World Trade Center.”

            Minutes later, I watched, horrified, as a second plane struck the South tower.  And then, as both of the monstrously huge structures tumbled to the ground as if kicked by a petulant child.

            My unit and I were participating in a multi-nation exercise at the Naval Air Station in Keflavik, Iceland (this explains why it was the afternoon).  A round-the-clock operation, the Keflavik Tactical Exchange gave us a unique chance to evaluate each other’s capabilities should we ever need to flex our respective militaries.  Little did we know that we were preparing for a type of war which belonged to the past.

            Because the 21st Century came roaring into each of our lives on that late summer day.

            Naturally, the exercise was immediately cancelled.  Foreign aircrews (funny that I call them “foreign’” since we were actually foreigners, too) beat hasty returns to their home bases.  We were told that American airspace was closed indefinitely.

            Station security forces went into their highest readiness posture.  Watch teams at the main gate beefed up, rings of barbed wire cordoned off perceived sensitive areas, and armed patrols roamed the perimeter.

            My watch teams and I, on the other hand, remained at our billeting.  Only in Iceland for the exercise, we were considered non-essential personnel who’d only get in the way.

            And so we spent the next few days.

            I received a worried phone call from my wife during this time.  She fretted over my safety.  I assured her that I was fine but omitted the fact that I was more concerned for her and the kids.

            You see, my family lived only a couple hours from New York and only a few from Washington.

            The ensuing few days was a frantic search for whatever updates we could glean from the news and how in the world we’d get ourselves and thousands of pounds of equipment back home.

            Most importantly, we desperately wanted to know how we could get into the fight.  Whatever the fight was.

            Four days later, U.S. airspace was opened to military traffic.  As I glanced through the window of the Navy patrol plane which took us home, I was struck at how empty the sky was-with the exception of the one plane which approached us as we crossed into the United States.  It came no closer than a few miles before it disappeared.

            I think it was a fighter aircraft.

            What’s more, the radio circuits, normally full of the cacophony of countless air traffic controllers, were eerily silent.  The only ones “on the air” were the handful which guided us home.  All else were hushed into silence.

            Our route of flight took us just south of Manhattan, well out of sight of land.  At that distance, even at the altitude at which we were flying, it was impossible to see any of the city skyline.

            But, we did see a huge pall of gray-brown smoke lingering in the air like the death shroud that it was.

            As we touched ground at the Willow Grove naval air station, there was nobody to greet us.  There really wasn't much of anything by way of an acknowledgment that we were back.  Somehow, it seemed fitting.

            After all, we all had something much more important to do.

            Go home to our families.

 

In memory of:

Commander Bill Donovan, USN

AW2 (NAC/AW) Joseph Pycior, USN

and the thousands whose only crime was going to work that day. 

 

More Fun With Joey From Scranton

     To be honest, I will try to keep most of these posts silly (nonsense), but as we lurch toward Election Day and civil war, I won't be able to control myself.  So, expect more "stuff."  

    After all, my mocking bone is strong and hard.

    So...enjoy?

"Look, here's the deal.  On this Labor Day weekend, I must urge you all to honor every birthing person as they undergo the rigors associated with childbirth.  Frankly, I thought only women, whatever they are, could give birth, but Barack has told me that men can do it, too.  Sounds like malarkey to me, but who am I?  No, seriously, who am I?  Anyway, I'd also like to remind you that I am still president.  I can seriously cock things up the next few months.  No joke."