ISSN: 1525-898X Observations by and for the vaguely disenchanted by Kevin G. Barkes
Conceived above a saloon, delivered into this world by a masked man identified by his heavily sedated mother as Captain Video,
raised by a kindly West Virginian woman, a mild-mannered former reporter with modest delusions of grandeur and no tolerance
of idiots and the intellectually dishonest.
In this blooming civilization, with its economic setup, relatively few men can afford tailor-made suits or shoes built according to their own lasts. But, there is not a man who can't tailor the garments of his own soul; to get an excellent fit in principles; wearing his philosophy in comfort and pride. -Milton S. Hershey
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I'm seriously under the weather. I just awoke from a 13 hour long winter's deathlike nap, and I feel like dog drool on a cat's lips. Must have been all those Christmas goodies and home-made foods to which I'm no longer accustomed.
I'm heading back to the couch until I can remember how to boot my comb.
As a general rule of thumb, anything that will keep the cat amused will amuse me as well.
So the grand-slam Christmas present for me this year is the "TimeMachine", a gift that's been around for ages. I've secretly lusted after it for ages, but never could justify purchasing one for myself.
The device is an elaborate clock. Once a minute, a rotating arm picks up a ball bearing and drops it on a track. As the balls accumulate, the tracks tilt and deposit one ball to the next track, with the remainder directed to a reservoir. You tell the time by counting the balls on their respective tracks.
My son-in-law coerced my daughter into getting one for me for Christmas, and the cat and I have spent the past two days watching the clever device. The feline even
awakened me at 12:59 am this morning, in time to see the machine dump all 26 ball bearings.
I think my favorite all-time Christmas gift is the pen my son gave me when he was six years old. It was bright yellow, with "Dad's Pen" emblazoned in huge black letters. I had complained about how my co-workers had a tendency to borrow pens from my desk; "Now they can't, because it has your name on it," Doug explained. He was right; I still have that pen.
The things that will destroy America are prosperity-at-any-price, peace-at-any-price, safety-first instead of duty-first, the love of soft living, and the get-rich-quick theory of life.-Theodore Roosevelt