My Life in a Quasi Fanatical Paramilitary Organization.

Most boys join some organization as they grow up. Perhaps I could join the cub scouts, boy scouts, campfire girls, The civil air patrol, or some other paramilitary organization. I could learn how to march and get to wear a spiffy uniform.

My mom, the problem solver, had a solution. An Altar boy.

I guess it was a Mommy thing. Before I knew it I was learning Latin, wearing this black thing covered by a white thing. a later learn it is called a Cassock and Surplice. My mom wanted me to be a priest.

Her philosophy was: If Junior cannot be a priest, well, dammit, We will dress him up like one or if he is near one maybe he will change his mind and want to be one. So instead of learning how to march I was learning how to genuflect. To this day I am a great genuflector. I can do it with either knee. I am ambipodal. (Did I just make a new word?)

The deal is: Once a boy becomes an Altar boy he doesn't mind it so much. You get to drink all the wine you want, you get to smell incense a lot, the little white wafers are a nice little snack and you are in a para-military organization, more or less.

like most para-military organization you have to learn the special language. In the army it is marching song and the leader who says things you cannot really understand like "hev hazeeeeeeee". I think that is left face. The Altar boy leader who we will call "The Priest" say things like " et spiritui sancto".

There are also regimens and tradition that you have to follow such as when to kneel, stand up, lie down, when to sit, how much wine you could drink before the priest knew you were to drunk to serve on the altar.

The Latin Thing: You have to learn some Latin so you could respond to what the priest was saying. In the old days it would be the altar boys who would respond in Latin. Now it is the congregation that response in English. We would mess with the priest by responding in gibberish. It made a dreary job more interesting. When we were expected to show up for Novenas, Stations of the Cross during lent I started looking for an escape hatch. I joined another para-military. The boy scouts. My parents made me give it up. The meetings were held in the basement of an unused Methodist Church. My mother thought that would somehow corrupt my Catholic upbringing. So that quickly became history. Perhaps they had a different agenda.

Problem solving

Simple Solutions: One of my internet friends sent  solutions for some of our current problems.

We seem to be having a few problems in this country lately: illegal immigration, hurricane recovery, alligators attacking people in Florida...

Not me, I concentrate on solutions for the problems. It's a win-win situation

•  Dig a moat the length of the mexican border.
  
• Send the dirt to New Orleans to raise the level of the levies.
• Put the Florida alligators in moat along the Mexican border.

Do You have another problem? How about :

• Cows
• The Constitution
• The Ten Commandments

Cows: is it just me, or does any else find it amazing that during the mad cow epedemic our government could track a single cow, born in Canada almost 3 years ago, right to the stall where she slept in the state of Washington?  And they tracked her calves to their stalls. But they were unable to locate 11 million illegal aliens wandering around the country that could speak very little or no English. Perhaps we should give every one of them a cow.

Constitution: They keep talking about drafting a constitution for Iraq.  Why don't we just give them ours?  It was written by a lot of real smart people.  It worked for over 200 years, and we are not using it any more.

The 10 Commandments: The reason we cannot have the 10 commandments posted in the courthouse is this: You cannot post "thou shall not steal, thou shall not lie, thou shall not commit adultery" in a building full of lawyers, judges, and politicians.  It creates a hostile work environment for them.

My personal thoughts: Sometimes the solutions seem so simplistic.

People are getting laid off left and right as the infrastructure of this country crumbles.

fixit!!: hire the laid off people to fix the infrastructure. I am sure there are a few people who could use the work and are very highly skilled.

The banks are in deep trouble because they made stupid mortgages.

fixit!!!: You don't have to a financial genius to figure out that all these foreclosures are not good for the banks or the homeowners. Why don't the financial institutions and the home owners make a deal with the aid of the government.  How about a make loans to people who are qualified and not with those reverse legalese trimester balloon type upside down transbiforated convoluted mortgage note from the National Bank of Confusion.

fixit!!!: Wall Street ripoff artist. They shouldn't be in Jail. They should be under the jail. (Thank you Dr. Phil).  All their possession should be confiscated and sold. That is a good start.

 Just a thought: How about this. Their first year in prison they could live in a cardboard box and eat dog food and have Rush Limbaugh tapes playing over the radio 24/7.

Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, listening to Rush 24/7 is cruel and unusual punishment.  

How about if I throw in Bill Reilly on weekends?

Language is important

Off and on? You have heard the expression "the alarm went off"?  It never occurred to me that this expression could cause a problem.  My little french wife made this expression a problem.  it all started when the check engine light went " on".  

To be "on"  meaning lit, meaning a possible problem. 

After a couple of days the check went "off".

I told the little French lady that the light went "off" in her car. She says, "Does this mean that the engine light is "on"? 

Huh????

After a confusing and convoluted conversation we got to the source of the problem. Apparently the little French lady did not grasp the concept of an alarm clock,  for example, going "off"  means that the alarm is "on". why the logic of this concept would confuse someone is beyond my meager comprehension.

She says," French has rules, English does not have rules. What kind of language says just the opposite of what it means?"

"What you talking about , Willis?" I asked.

"Well we don't park on the parkway, we drive.  We don't  drive in the driveway. We park."

She had me there.

Adjusting to the weather

It was cool last night. We had to bring a couple of our plants into the house.

I saw  snowflakes. They were little itty bitty things but it was snow. At least a dozen flakes. I am now officially depressed.  My wife thinks I am overreacting.  I don't think so.

This morning I called a travel agent. I told him that I am pondering a move to Equador.

How can a place with the name Equador actually be cold?  It can't. 

There are other factors.  I have family in Equador.  A cousin. Jay.

The last time I saw him was 1958, I believe.  I haven't heard from him in a while but I am sure he would be glad to see me. Jay will be so happy to see my wife and me. Is his name Ray or Jay? Oh, It might be Jimmie. or is that his brother?

Hmmm! The fact that I have not heard from him bothers me a little. perhaps he was kidnapped by left wing guerillas or some left handed gorillas. I am told that they have some of those in South America. In either case I would have to bring a suitcase full of bananas or a suitcase full of money. This is a good reason not to go to Equador.

Perhaps Costa Rica.

I have no relatives there.

Get off my lawn

Tips on how to make your neighbors nervous: 

Lately the urge to be Clint Eastwood has again overwhelmed me.  

I have been thinking of calling the local radio station and asking to "Play Misty for Me".   I suspect they will not be doing it any time soon since they are a rap station.

I have been controlling these urges as best as I can without medication.  I do not want to alarm my wife but I now feel I must be my genuine self or as I like to be  referred to at the supermarket "Clint"  or simply "Mr.  Eastwood".

This morning I realized things may be getting out of hand and my neighbors may need counseling.  I stepped outside to get the paper and  Scott, who was getting his own paper, smiled and said "Hi".  I growled, " get off my lawn".  He mumbled something about being neighborly and went into his residence.  I don't know what came over me.

The thing is, I don't have a lawn.  Scott does not have a lawn.  No one in our Condo complex has a lawn.

There has been a few other telltale signs that I am becoming more Eastwoodish daily.

I have tossing out an occasional "make my day", a few "Do you feel lucky, punk, Well, do you?" and I say this to total strangers at Walmart or Denny's or  other high end establishments.  I told my wife that she could call me "Dirty Harry" or  "The Man with no name".   She calls me "The Man with no life".  

For this error in judgement I will have to exact some fiendish revenge much in the style of  The assassin that Clint played in "Eiger 'Sanction".  

My plan is to pull my pants up so the waist of my pants is right at the nipple line.  I will add some red suspenders and a bow tie and I will pretend I am Clint Eastwood doing an imitation of Larry King.  I will say things like, "In the next hour on the Clint Eastwood Show I will pistol whip the pope". 

I will do this while checking out at Walmart.

Wow, This even scares me a little.

My internet caregivers....NOT

I am just checking my email. I am so glad that people care about me and are actually watching out for me.  I have been offered millions of dollars if I will send Barrister Michael in Nigeria a sum of $23,000  so he can pay the financial charges so millions can be released.  He will split it with me.  Where do I sign up for this, Mikey?  I will receive this money just in time to accept that email offer to get my colon cleaned. 

I will not be accepting the offer to have my breast enlarged since I am a man. I don't care much for man boobs. The offer for dates with black women is also out.  I discussed it with my wife and she said no.

Bogus Bank and Trust Company wanted me to verify my bank account this morning. All they needed was my social security number and my bank account number to verify my account.  I will be getting back to them this afternoon.

My next email is from my friend.  It is the form of a prayer. She tells me I have send her email to a hundred and twenty  four of my closest friends. If I don't It will mean I will get a boil on my ass for every person short of one twenty four and I will also burn in hell.  

So far I am up to ninety one people.

My next email: well, I just took thirty nine minutes opening forwards of forwards and the end is not in sight. I think I will give up on this one. I hope it wasn't important.

The email heading made me kinda nervous.  Something about "a matter of life and death".

The Philosophy

My Sweetie and I have struggled to adopt a philosophy of life.  We need something or someone who will give our life direction. 

After much discussion and soul searching we have made our choice.   We have decided to call it the "Wholly Trinity".  That would not be the father, son, and holy ghost of the Catholic religion,  in which my wife and I were both raised.  The other one. Yes, Dr. Phil Judge Marilyn Millian of People's Court and Cesar Milan, "The Dog Whisperer". 

We truly believe this will lead us down the path of righteousness.  We will not be swept up in a tidal wave of cults.