Day of heroes

My family has a proud tradition of serving this country. We love our country, and we love the people who serve Her. Defending freedom is a job that should not be taken lightly. It is a shit job sometimes, and it takes a special breed of person to do it. To all of the men and women, past and present, who have gone in harm’s way to protect what this nation stands for, THANK YOU!

Roll call:

James Otis ‘Rip’ Mears: WW1, United States Army

Eugene Arnold Kenley: WW2, United States Navy

Dessie Mears Redwine: WW2, parachute packer, United States Army Air Corps

Dale Badgley: Vietnam, United States Army (KIA)

Bill Collett: Vietnam, United States Marine Corps

Joe Newman: United States Marine Corps

Paul Campbell: Korea, United States Navy

Kurt Newman: United States Army

JC Newman: United States Army

Danny Lisenbee: Iraq and Afghanistan, United States Army

John McCarthy: Khobar Towers, Desert Storm, Allied Force (Kosovo), United States Air Force

Keith Jones: Iraq and Afghanistan, United States Air Force

When you go to sleep tonight, say a prayer for our soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines.

GOD BLESS AMERICA!

Pastel wipeout

As everyone who has read this blog for any appreciable amount of time knows, the Blonde and I are huge football fans. Her team is the Packers, mine is the Cowboys. If you follow football at all, you know that the Packers lost to the lowly Bucs (wearing their old school uniforms) this last weekend. Good Lord I forgot how horrendous those pastel orange son of a bitches were. So, the Blonde has been pissy since Sunday about the loss, and I, being the prick bastard that I am, take every opportunity to rub it in. We are watching the tube last night and the Blonde is wrapped up in her Packers blanket on the couch. I pull it down and look all around then go back to watching TV. A little later I pull it down and look around then go back to watching our show. She is used to me fucking with her, so she didn’t say anything. I wait a bit, then pull her blanket down again, look around, run my hand over the blanket as if to remove some debris. She finally bites, “what the hell are  you doing?” I reply, “oh, just trying to get the creamsicle stains off of your blanket.”  I laughed so hard I thought I was going to piss myself. It wouldn’t surprise me if she kills me in my sleep one of these nights.

Friday Saturday Chuckle: 11-7-09

More road rage!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Question, is there one motherfucker that drives in Oregon other than me that understands what this sign means? It means MERGE. I unfortunately have to drive a stretch of I-5 during my daily commute to work. I swear it seems like every time I am trying to get on the freeway, some jackass in the slow lane, who has every opportunity to move over to the fast lane to allow for the seamless merging of traffic, continues to toodle along in the slow lane, oblivious of everything but their cellphone, or lip synching some stupid ass song that they probably don’t even know the words to. Hey assholes, if you don’t have anyone coming up on your left side, MOVE THE FUCK OVER!!!

Speaking of on-ramps and merging and shit, there is a weird phenomena in Oregon. It is a rare sight indeed when you will find one of these morons that will try to do their best to get up to freeway speed while still on on-ramp. Invariably I will get stuck behind some fuckhead who thinks that 50 mph is an acceptable speed until they actually get to the freeway. Shitbirds look, don’t you realize that crap interrupts the smooth flow of traffic on the freeway, that is assuming you can get the aforementioned asshole who rides the slow lane, to pull over? GET UP TO SPEED! Don’t be a douche! Don’t wait until you get there to do it! Your dumbass should be at freeway speed when you finally get to it!  AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGG!!!!! SHIT! FUCK! PISS!!!!!

It is a damned good thing I don’t have a concealed handgun permit, or own a LAW, or bazooka or something, cause there would be a bunch of dead son-of-a-bitches on I-5 between Hwy 20 and Hwy 34 in Oregon.

Intentional grounding

My love affair with football is very, VERY old. I started watching it as far back as I can remember. I played the game (Pop Warner) as a kid, and in junior high and high school. I love the game! I consider myself more knowledgable than your average beer drinking, chips and salsa eating couch potato. I could probably even coach at the high school level. However, there are certain aspects of the game that have always befuddled me. Befuddled? Nah, I just don’t fucking get! One of those is intentional grounding. Follow along with me, and see if I miss anything. Quarterback drops back in the pocket (inside the tackles). Goes through his progression. No one is open. He can’t just throw the ball out of bounds, UNLESS: he moves outside of the tackles AND ,when thrown, the ball makes it past the line of scrimmage. Now lets say said QB stays inside the tackles and throws the ball and hits an offensive lineman. Can’t do that, it is called illegal touching. I get that; linemen are not eligible receivers unless it is a ‘tackle eligible’ play. Ok, now lets say said QB stays inside the tackles and throws the ball and doesn’t connect with anyone, and there is no receiver, eligible or not in the area of the pass. Intentional grounding is the call. I get THAT. So someone please explain to me how in the hell a QB can legally manage the game clock by spiking the ball to stop the clock (it’s called clocking the ball….go figure). How the fuck is that legal? QB drops usually two steps and throws the ball at the turf immediately behind the center to stop the clock. Here is what is wrong with that: A. There is no eligible receiver in the area. B. The ball did not make it back to the line of scrimmage. and C. The quarterback is inside the tackles. Now if that shit right there isn’t intentional grounding, what the fuck is?