OK I’m a Bastard!


I hate being a bastard.

I really do, and yet I’m all too often exactly that. I seem to be really good at it.

I try not to be.

The latest incident was when I was no longer able to ignore that the other person in this household is a freakin packrat.

I found myself in the garage wondering why I couldn’t get to my workout bench anymore. Then I was wondering why I couldn’t get to my Bike anymore.


Then I was wondeing why the garage floor was so filthy only to realize the the overriding answer to all these questions was that there were piles of useless crap all over the garage.

Then I started investigating the Piles O’ Shit.

I know better than this. I know that if I poke through my happy gossamer illusion that I’ll come face to face with the truth…

Which in this case is that the other half is and has been stacking shit up in the garage, the basement, the guestroom closet and in, of course my workout area.

I go off.

I mean I really shouldn’t have to move shit to get to or use other shit. I feel if I’m having to move shit to get to other shit, we have too much shit!

That’s when I notice that e-waste that should have been tossed 4.5 years ago is actually stuffed in a box on the far side of the garage where I really hadn’t noticed it.

My failure to notice it is in part due to my happy gossamer illusion and in part because of the other car that’s usually parked blocking the view of the stack of boxes.

OH HELL!!!! WTF???


Why is this stuff still sitting here after 5 years?” I demand to know.

Uhh I was going to take it to the rummage sale

There have been 5 rummage sales since we… You & I… decided that this stuff needed to go.


What’s in that box over there?“, I walk to another box and flip it open.

OHHHH Look, it’s cassette tapes that got all wet when the house burned, and OH by the way, YOU DO Realize that we don’t have a cassette player… AT ALL.”

I walk over to flip open another box, at this point I think my German, Viking genes kicked in. I don’t know if I was more Viking or just Nazi in my interrogation.

How nice… Video Tapes! Which we also no longer have the capacity to play. Were you planning on buying a VCR? I doubt that Walmart would agree to transfer this porn collection to DVD for you. And they don’t have to! We’ve replaced the best of this collection WITH BLU-RAY.

The other half is now speechless, making unintelligible gurgling sounds.

I don’t stop… I can’t.

Why is there a parallel printer sitting over there? You realize that we don’t own a single computer that could even drive that machine don’t you?

The Other half responds, “Well… well, it’s our printer it was at the religious place I work, when we moved offices I brought it home.”


I accept this explanation.

What computer was it connected to where you work?

I know the answer to this question now I’m just being a bastard… With a capital “B”

Uh, well, uh it was connected to my my old 286 when I was using that at the religious edifice.

I see, so this printer has been sitting disused with it’s ink cartridges dried in place for 10 years? And NOW you decide we need to have it sitting in our garage?

Yes, I’m a real evil bastard when I have my illusion shattered.

Well I thought you’d want it back.

Why? The only computer equipment that I owned which could have driven this machine was destroyed in the fire.

When was the last time you saw anything like that connector? A Better question is where is the cable? An even better question is where is that 286 computer?

Why on earth would you bring this home, it’s unusable because the ink has obviously leaked all over the inside of the device and without a cable to connect it or a computer to drive it you’ve essentially brought home a filthy, sticky, paperweight!


You see I’m a Bastard but I tend to get really nasty when someone throws common sense out the window.

I notice glass bottles destined for the California redemption facility. These bottles have been sitting there covered with a moving pad for over a year.

[When I was a kid it was simple, you took the empty bottle to the 7-11 and they gave you 5 cents. Done deal! I don’t know why it’s so complex now days.]

Why are these still here? Should I grind them into sand and recast them into windows or perhaps learn glass blowing? How about we simply wait for them to decay to sand in situ.

It was unkind, I admit that.

In my defense,  the most annoying part of all this is that I’d happily take this stuff to the redemption place or the disposal place.

But if it’s hidden from me I don’t even know that I should. I thought the moving pad was covering a cart used to move instruments and never thought to look under it.

Instead the other half would prefer to be a martyr, a victim, a slave, eternally put upon and sad because I’m being mean.

Oh but we’re not done yet…

You see the primary reason we’re down here is because the other half disconnected without telling me, my Bike from the battery tender. The other half instead connected their Bike rather than buying another battery tender (AS I had directed).

This in and of itself isn’t a big deal except that in the process they made 2 additional and critical mistakes.

1) They shorted the connection on my Bike in all likely-hood dropping my Bikes battery to 1/2 charge or less, and shortening my battery’s lifespan.

2) They didn’t switch the connection back to my Bike when the other Bike had reached full charge.

This resulted in my battery being dead… I mean replacement time dead. So now that it’s a nice time of year to ride in the mountains, after I’ve moved the Pile O’ Shit to get to my Bike I can’t start it.

The upshot is that NOW I have to have a trailer come to get my Bike and take it somewhere to get a new battery, replace the charred connector, and OH what the hell might as well have an oil change while It’s there anyway.

BUT We’re not done… Oh Noooooo!


Since I’ve now uncovered the source of the garage problems…. I feel the need to fix them.

I’m mostly German what do you expect?

First, I once again say, “I’ll happily take the e-waste and recyclables to the appropriate disposal site. All you have to do is make sure that your e-waste is in a designated spot… HERE!”

I designate the spot. I reinforce the designation by moving the obvious e-waste to the spot.

No, I’ll take it. I drive right by there all the time.

Clearly the other half isn’t anticipating how that statement is going to go over with me. 

If you drive by there all the time… Why is this stuff still sitting in the garage?

The other half stomps off.

What did I say?

In the pleasant silence, punctuated by slamming doors and stomping up stairs. I begin contemplating phase two of the garage beautification plan.


Temporarily around here is approximately a five year time interval. The progression is however non-linear. Two “Temporarily” units do not equal 10 years.

It’s more like 15 years. Adding a third “temporarily” is something on the order of a glacial epoch. 

Originally, I had planned to put shelves up in the basement and also in the garage. My cleverly laid and throughly explained, plan was thwarted by the other half filling those spaces… “Temporarily” with crap, the large majority of which I think should have been heaved unceremoniously in the closest dumpster.


However, I have an opportunity right now, in that I can get to the walls of the garage.

A slamming door followed by tromping footsteps herald the arrival of the other half for “Round Two”. Ding Ding!

I want to put up shelves to help clean the clutter up in the garage. I was thinking of perhaps 7 foot lengths and two or three shelves along this wall.“, I indicate the wall. 

Grunt“, is the response.

I was thinking that we could hang the bicycles from the ceiling, here. This would allow the motorcycles to be parked there, and my workout bench to be relocated over here. This arrangement would make the area under the stairs available for infrequently used items such as the mailbu light supplies.”

Grunt“, is the response.

“I take it that you are not opposed to this?”

“Well, do you really want to put 7 foot long shelves up there, why not the full length of the wall? How wide would these shelves be? How many shelves?”

Ahhh, the wonder of engagement!

Well I was thinking about breaking the shelves so that the bicycles could fit nicely in the middle with their tires against the wall. Then the snowblower could be parked neatly under them.”

But where would you get the shelves, and do you know that they’re available in that length? are you going to the local hardware store or to the one in Phelan? Or will you be going to the Lowes or Home Depot? Do they cut shelving material? Are you planning to use plywood or maybe some nicer hardwood? Will they be painted?

(This is how the game is always played. “Where do you want to go to dinner?” Invariably results in a discussion that is longer than the damn dinner itself. The same is true of any issue that comes up where there might be a difference of opinion.

The statement “I’d like to move out of California….” Results in comments like “What would we do with the house? Where? I have a job here! What would you hope to accomplish in another state? Why do you want to leave so bad? State X is not a state I’m politically comfortable in.” [in other words a predominantly pro business Republican state. But it’s perfectly OK that I have to suffer an essentially anti business predominantly Democratic state. Hell I’d be really happy in a state that was about 1/2 & 1/2]

I’ve come to understand this is a tactic that is really about shutting down the conversation, without saying something as direct and honest as “NO… I don’t want to go out to dinner.” Or “NO… I don’t want to move out of California and here’s why.

And the beat goes on…)

Now is when I become an absolute double, dirty dog BASTARD!

They can be any way you like them. I’m not married to the style, only that we have the shelves.

At which point more grumbling and the need to make phone calls and search the internet arises, but I don’t have to do it. I can settle back and relax while the other half contributes the comparison shopping and even the pick-up.

In the end, this little project is going to cost about $250 The brackets cost more than the shelving material.

The shelving will be precut 6 foot lengths about 12 inches wide. The material will be a nice white plastic finish over 5/8″ plywood. 

The items that need to be up off the floor, will be off the floor, providing us with more room to actually move around the cars while they’re in the garage.

More importantly, the crap that’s been sitting in the garage waiting to be tossed out, will be.

A load was put in the other halfs car tonight.

I’ll get my shelves. The order should be ready for pickup tomorrow.

But the absolute best part of all of this is



I hope that your day is as rewarding.

You Know… I’m too easily distracted.

But then I get pissy because my distractibility leads me to doing stuff that isn’t actually forwarding my goals.

My God Son indirectly pointed this out to me. 

He asked how the book was going and was genuinely interested.

The book is moving forward. It’s just that it’s moving too slowly for my expectations. BUT THAT’S Nobodys fault but mine.

I have to learn to be more even tempered… at my ancient age you’d think I’d have this stuff down pat but I don’t 

I’m stressing internally about a lot of things. I want to finish the book, I need to find a new job and if I find a new job out of state… I’ll be forced to make a decision between a long relationship and being able to support not only myself but others as well.

However, that too is something that isn’t reason enough to get pissy.

Again, the people that care about me and love me shouldn’t have to put up with me being an asshole.

What reason do they have to love me at all if all they ever get from me is snottiness because I’m all wrapped up in my shit?

I really have to get my shit right and remember that the people who love me must always have a special place in my head and my heart that is free of external B.S. They should always know that I care very much about them, and the only way I can make sure of that is to make sure is to show them.

Did it again… I’m in the doghouse – Updated

Ok I’m a bastard.

I’m working on some stuff and I get this call…

“My computer isn’t working. it was plugged in, it was connected to a network cable the sky is blue I stumbled, the computer fell, it landed on my shoes so that doesn’t really count as it falling, water is blue, the wind is blowing, I have on shoes. On and on and on and on….”


I finally interrupt because NONE of the above is telling me anything important and the randomness is annoying as hell.


Yeah I’m harsh… I really had my mind completely someplace else and just listening to that insanity has completely destroyed my train of thought.

I should be more patient…

Most people do freak out a bit when they’ve dropped their machines… I’d freak out but I’d be PISSED as hell at myself for doing something soooo stupid.

99% of the time I need the basic facts and nothing more, let me ask the questions and just answer the question I asked, no extras no other oration.

This conversation would have gone so much better if it went something like

“Hey, I dropped my computer and now it will come on briefly then shutdown again. Do you have any ideas or should I just bring it to you?”

Unfortunately, that’s not the way it went. In fact, that’s NEVER the way it goes.

So today… I’ve been mean and heartless. My train of thought has completely been derailed.

Why is it that people can’t OR won’t organize their thoughts before they call technical support?

Sigh… I guess I should be prepared to make nice for the next few hours…

————— UPDATE ——————–

Hey, when you drop your computer while it’s running… (Even on your feet) ya got a better than even chance of damaging your hard drive.

So far, I’ve told the drive to map out the damaged sectors, Installed a new operating system and now a 13 hour restore of the last known good backup. I hope that backup has been allowed to run as I originally set it up… or else this is not going to go well.

————— UPDATE —-UPDATE—————

Whoo Hooo! OS Updated, Restore complete, Software and files are apparently all where they’re supposed to be. Now it’s just a matter of stumbling over the bits & pieces that need to have their license numbers re-entered. My work is done!

I can move on with the SHIT that I want to do… Thank you gods of the computer!


This is an Ooops… Not an international incident

I saw this on Joe my gods, blog. The outraged leftist comments on Joes blog prompted me to write this..

Marines have been videoed apparently urinating on dead Taliban 

I’ve got a couple of things to say about this.

Yeah, it was wrong.

Devil Dogs, I totally love you. Please, y’all need to remember that every moron has a camera up their ass these days. Be more careful in the future. What ain’t seen on TV… didn’t happen…

This doesn’t diminish that it’s kinda bad to disrespect the dead, if for no other reason than as Americans we’re supposed to have higher standards of behavior. Remember guys, Lead By Example.

On the other hand… I totally get it.

2 minutes before…. those Taliban fucks were spraying and praying. They were aiming AK-47s and whatever else they could at you and tying to kill you.

You guys put the fuckers down and did your job. You took it a little personal that those Taliban guys wanted your heads on their walls and you responded personally by pissing on ’em.

Here’s where I’m going to get into trouble with my liberal politically correct friends.


I’m so sick and tired of the liberal assholes in our country acting like our military is some kind of evil super criminal.

Lest we forget… 

(I’m not even going to mention the terrorist acts committed worldwide by
Taliban and Al Qaeda operatives. I’m not going to mention that the Taliban and Al Qaeda would happily rape a girl or young woman then Stone her to death for having been raped. Or that torture and slavery are completely fine with the Taliban and Al Qaeda… As long as they’re not on the receiving end… Nope won’t mention it at all.)

I will remind you all that these Taliban and Al Qaeda fucks have desecrated our dead repeatedly and in far more gruesome ways than pissing on the bodies. 

Our soldiers bodies have been dragged naked through the streets of (Insert name of Middle Eastern Shithole here.) decapitated and the separate body parts rigged to explode.  If the Taliban and Al Qaeda kill off American recovery teams by blowing up the bodies of fallen Americans it’s the joyous will of Allah. 

Good men and women have been defiled in any number of ways before and after, being killed by devout “peace loving” Taliban and Al Qaeda “Soldiers of God” 

Don’t forget the young man who Had His Head Sawed off… not chopped, SAWED off LIVE for the benefit of Al Jezeera video. “Slow Decapitation of a live American sent to help rebuild Iraq… Be sure to tune in at 6 and make sure the children are watching. Allah be praised.” (I know I won’t forget. After that, I had and will never have mercy for anyone in the Middle East.)  

How about a good solid reporter also beheaded because he wanted to make sure that the American Public had a first hand account of what our troops were doing at our behest. 

What about our soldiers burned and hanging from bridges in Baghdad 

FUCK the Taliban and Al Qaeda! Fuck those motherfuckers, anyone who supports them, and the camels they rode in on.

Those sons of bitches, should be thanking Allah every day that we haven’t given them nuclear power… Pointy end first that is.

My question is this…

Why does it seem that American Media invariable spins stories against our military?

I am a major prick — Again!

The Other Half comes home last night.

It’s very late. It was after midnight in fact.

The OH was all spun up over some musical conference thing they’d been involved with over the past week.

Mind you I don’t know shit about ancient music, exotic instruments, or ethnic music beyond a bit of Afro-Celt Sound System and perhaps some experimental albums I’ve heard.

What I was doing was watching an interview featuring Charlize Theron that was very interesting. I had in fact stayed up very late to watch this interview. I was also blogging at the same time.

Of course the OH had no idea about this having been gone all day. Or that I was irritated over the ispq silliness.

Or that the satellite box had 10 minutes before the interview show started, changed channels to some Top Model reality rerun and then refused all commands from the remote or front panel. (Had to pull the plug 3 times and the smart card once to get the stupid thing working properly)

I missed the first few minutes of the show but had happily settled in to watch what remained and was trying to follow the twitter feed live too.

My multitasking was at it’s limit when the OH blustered in and started expounding how wonderful the concert with <static> was and how beautiful the <static> was and what wonderful time they had in their jam session playing the <static> and <static><static><static><static><static><static> more <static>

In fairness to me, I did point out that I had no idea what we were talking about several times. I don’t have the lexicon to speak about music at that level and since I had no context I was clueless.

The OH wasn’t listening and wasn’t paying attention.  I realized I wasn’t going to be able to keep up with what I was doing and at the same time be a courteous listener.

So I closed the lid on my laptop and gave the OH my full attention.

What I FAILED to do was slide the mask over my features that disguised my annoyance.

Of course the laptop closing also closed the conversation. Now I’ve hurt the OHs feelings.

I felt terrible, and tired, and just gave up then went to bed in the spare room.

No redemption I was a prick.

I guess I’m better at reading body language. My employment is technical and complicated, on the rare occasion that I discuss my work, if I see someone glazing over I stop and try to move the conversation back to common ground.

The OH has never developed that observation or conversational ability.

But I should be kinder, gentler and mindful that the joy in ones work is important and sharing it with someone you care about is part of having a good relationship.

I’ll do better…

And yet again … I’m a Prick!

Well I had my semi annual blow up about the piles of shit stacking up around here.

I don’t say anything and it gets worse.

I do say something and there are hurt feelings… and it gets worse.

I blow a gasket and then there are really hurt feelings. I say shit that I probably mean but really shouldn’t say out loud and the hurt feelings get worse.

Then I start cleaning up the piles O’ shit. And suddenly the creator of the piles is far more interested in dealing with them.

From my perspective I shouldn’t have to blow the gasket in the first place. It’s WELL FUCKING known that I detest the piles of crap everywhere. However that doesn’t stop their creation.

Even now, I see piles “that need to be sorted through” sitting on the counter. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that If I said nothing. SIX FUCKING MONTHS later those “important” papers will be covered in dust still unsorted.

I know I’ll keep pushing. It’s my nature I can’t stop. At least until the counter is clean for a couple of days. It becomes a test of will and in this situation It’s like my will is fueled by the non-compliance.

I’m thinking about it and I’m trying to not keep pushing.

I just don’t know what the hell the best solution is. I can’t be silent and yet I don’t want to deal with the sulking or hurt feelings either.