Social blundering and other government doubletalk

Squirrelly: relating to or resembling a squirrel. restless, nervous, or unpredictable. eccentric or insane. That's me!

Hmm! Perhaps It was not a good idea to let the woman from the state humane society read my blog.She said my blog was demeaning to squirrels. What about me? Is there no end to political correctness? Answer: NO! political correctness and government double talk is here to stay.
When I was growing up my school team was called "The Red Flame"...as opposed to blue flames or whatever. Today that team name would have to change it's name. It would be demeaning to the fire department. (another quasi-governmental agency). I know of a team called the Crusaders that was forced to change the name of their school team because it offended the sensibilities of the Muslim in the county. (both of them). Another team had to change the name from the "Redskins" to the Red Chickens or something. The name "Redskins" could be a little dicey. I personally thought it in terms of being warriors, but the three Indians in town were offended by "Redskins". So after 65 years of politically incorrectness,The name was changed. In view of this I suggest that all schools should be named after inanimate objects or fantasy creatures. I suggest dinosaurs, Rock Fiddlers, Griffins, or Porkchoppers. These seem fairly neutral.
It doesn't end there. The government has been confusing me for many years. Last summer I thought I would take up the sport of "waterboarding". I found out it wasn't a sport, it was a CIA torture technique.Some of the words are very confusing. My neighbor, the bureaucrat, said to me one day, "I believe my spouse has incurred collateral damage through negligent friendly fire and now I am up the proverbial estuary with insufficient means of propulsion." What???.....??"I just shot my wife and now I am up a creek without a paddle."He is currently incarcerated at the penitentiary. The big house. Up the River.I have collected a few examples of government speak.

1. Evidence Base - research shows
2. Functionality - use
3. Funding Streams - money
4. Iteration - version
5. Procure - buy
6. Rationalisation - cut
7. Robust - tough
8. Slippage - delay
9. Social Exclusion - poverty
10. Worklessness - unemployed

It appears everyone wants to get in on the action. Here are a few more goodies.

A criminal is now someone who is behaviorally challenged.

Failure is now deferred success.

Garbage man is now a Sanitation Engineer

Girl friend/Wife is an unpaid sex worker.

Illegal alien is an undocumented immigrant.

Psycho is now pathologically high spirited.

White trash is losers of European descent.

Intelligent Design means Darwin is full of....bodily waste.

Transfer tubes are body bags.

Pre-owned vehicle for a used car.

More Doublespeak

Affirmative Action / Racial Discrimination - Both mean "preferential treatment for a particular race". However, the first is mandated by law and the second in illegal.

Educated / Brainwashed - US children are "Educated" about the evils of drugs, pollution, and race relations ... Soviet children were "Brainwashed" in Soviet doctrine.

Realistic / Stereotypical - If a person believes that it is a bad idea to walk though the ghetto at night, they are simply being realistic. However, if they take the next step and say that the reason it's such a bad idea is because of the people that live in that neighborhood, they are accused of stereotyping.

Shell Shock / Combat Fatigue / Operational Exhaustion / Post-traumatic stress disorder - The comedian George Carlin once pointed out how the way we describe this condition has changed over the years. He pointed out how the wording has changed to completely remove any connection with the horrors of war from the name of the condition, even though it is the horrors of war which is the direct cause of the condition.

Self-confident / Arrogant - Liberals are self-confident... because they are dedicated to their beliefs. But, conservatives are arrogant because they are dedicated to their beliefs.

On the TV

My wife and I often watch People's Court and Judge Judy. Very often the defendants try doubletalk to minimize what they have done. Incarcerated seems to be a very popular word. They will try convolution to confuse the judge. It doesn't work. I used to hate to watch Judge Judy. I thought she was very coarse and nasty. Well, she is, but she usually gets to the truth pretty fast. I now enjoy watching the people squirm when they try to doubletalk mystify, baffle, and confuse Judge Judy. It usually backfires when the try to varnish, rearrange or embellish what actually happened. They usually end up confuzzled. (my wife's favorite word.)

So....I will now go to the rest room, powder room, rest area, toilet, bathroom, head, peepee parlor, can, comfort station, loo, john, potty, downloading (for computer geeks) visit the throne room where I will commence to.....ummm...oops!..never mind....too late!!!!

Baby boomer's memory handbook (1950's Ed.)

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Really????

1950 -1960:Actually things were almost idyllic. The worst of times? Hardly.

Life before television was almost barbaric. We had to find ways to amuse ourselves. Things were different. There are things that a baby boomer will remember. There are events you try forget.

This was the era of Polio, the iron lung, McCarthyism, the cold war, the threat of nuclear war. A great thing was happening at the end of WWII (1945). President Truman proposed a health care plan for all Americans. As of this year (2010) things seem to be moving along quite nicely.

McCarthyism: Joe had a good idea. Who liked commies in the 50's?Nobody. Let's expose them. OK!!! I like this plan. Hey, Joe is doing a great job.

A month later I see my name published in the paper. I have been reported to be a communist. HUH???!!!

You go before McCarthy committee two weeks later and state, "I am not a communist."

Joe: Did you or did you not have the "The Daily Laborer", a commie front newspaper in your house?

Me:No. Joe: I have a signed affidavit by your garbage man that you had a copy of this paper in your garbage. I have the paper here. It smells communistic.

Me: Sir, I think that is the smell of cat urine. My dad gets these papers at work. I line my litterbox with it."

Joe: "Hah!! So he works for a communist front organization. Who does he work for?"

Me: "He works for you, sir."

That is how it was. A good idea goes bad.

Forgotten cars of the 50's: I saw a Hudson Terraplane once. My uncle had a 1955 Hudson Hornet. It was a good car. He may still be driving it. He is in his 90's now.

A strange looking car. It right up there with the Henry J. I had an uncle who owned a Henry J. He was still driving it in the early 80's. It was a bit quirky at that point. The Edsel? That seemed like a nifty car to me. We are speaking of a time when Ford made a hardtop convertible (it disappeared into the trunk) and Chrysler had push button shifting on the steering wheel. The spare tire was real. You could recognize a car type from a half mile away. This is the era of the legendary 1957 Chevy. You can go to a place that sells model cars and you will find the 57 Chevy on the shelf. I don't think you will find a 1992 Toyota or 1998 Ford Taurus.

Fashion of the 50's: I began my adolescence at a strange fashion time.

Shoes: White bucks and penny loafers were my fashion choices. It was white bucks if you were going for the Pat Boone look. It was boots if you were going for the James Dean look. The James Dean look was Levi's, white T-shirt with a pack of Camels rolled up in the sleeve. I often dreamed that Pat Boone and James Dean would meet up on some street and start fighting. Pat would be getting pounded badly. Bloody nose, black eye, sore ribs. James would grab onto Pat's shirt and rip it. That is when Pat would go ballistic and start beating the crap of James. Pat would be pounding James' head on the pavement.....and Elvis Presley would rush in from somewhere and save James Dean from imminent death at the hands of Pat Boone. Elvis would snarl at Pat, " Look at the blood from his head on the sidewalk." Pat would answer, "That is Wildroot Cream Oil Hair Tonic, You Cretin." A befuddled Elvis would answer, " Don't ever step on my Blue Suede shoes."

Maybe this happen. Did I dream this? Well, anyway.....clothing was important.

Dressing for a date: My first two dates were disasters. I did not dress correctly for my first date. I had an identity crisis which is very common among teenagers then and today. My Mother made me wear heavy galoshes over my shoes, blue corduroy pants,

A white t-shirt with a box of candy cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve, (I wasn't allowed to smoke.) a headful of Wildroot cream oil, a coonskin cap, (Davey Crocket was very popular at the time, hence, I thought, fashionable.) and of course an umbrella.

The girl was dressed weird. She had layers of petticoats under hooped poodle skirt. I am sure she was wearing a diaper under all this. There is NO WAY she could get all that stuff off in time to poop. I know, I tried to penetrate the fortress to no avail. another thing that doomed the date. I could not penetrate the hair spray on her head with my hand. She was impenetrable everywhere. she wasn't too keen about my hair either.

she told me not to put my head on anything. she also asked me if I wanted to wrap my head in a towel. I guess we were not made for each other.

My second date did not go any better. My friends set me up with a blind date. She wasn't blind. She was in an iron lung. I did not know that until I arrived at her house.

I couldn't figure how I was going to get it in the car. My dad was waiting out in the car. He was going to drive us to the movies. I suppose I could have gotten my uncle Pete's truck and taken her to the drive in theater but that didn't seem practical since I couldn't drive. So I just stayed at her house and we played records. I asked her once if she wanted to dance. She rolled her eyes, but then smiled. She laughed at my faux pas.

It wasn't such a bad date. She recovered enough in time so she would not be in an iron lung all her life. She actually had a fairly normal life.

To give you an idea how carefree and happy we were in those days, we had a little song we sang.

"Hit the dirt, Join the crowd,

Mama, look at mushroom cloud.

looka you daddy, He Know!

Mushroom cloud made him ugly so."

This was a Calypso song. It could have been sung by Harry Belafonte.

The end is near, People!

It isn't even December 2012

It finally happen. I have spent to much time on my computer. A sign came up on my computer. It said: Congratulations, You have reached the end of the internet. There is nothing left to google. WOW! This day came sooner than I expected. I have no idea what to do now. My wife has become jealous of my Macbook.

I spend more time with Macbook and google than I do with her. I leave my Macbook by my bed. Last night in bed my wife asked me, " What time is it?" I got up and googled it. I didn't have to google it. The time is up in the right corner next to spotlight. We also have 2 clocks in the bedroom. I was sleepy.

This morning I got up and told my wife what had happen. " I went to the end of the internet. My life is over. I have lived a good life. There is nothing...nothing left. I am not young anymore. put me in a home. It's over." My wife just said, "Okay." a little too quickly and happily to that suggestion.

As the day went on my wife soften her stance on putting me into a "home". She thought I needed some psychological help. She recommended I write to "Doctor Phil".

"Write?" I queried.

"Yeah!, You know, It's like e-mail but you use paper. You put the paper in an envelope, put a stamp and an address on it and walk it down to the mailbox."

"What good is it to put a blank piece of paper in an envelope?" I ask her.

"You're suppose to write your problem on the paper, you moron."

"Oh!...Oh!....Hey, This isn't my first rodeo, you Know. Did you know that a pancake has two sides? Three if you count the edge."....as I barraged her with Dr. philisms.

I threw in "No dog ever peed on a moving car."

It was clear that I had her mystified, dazzled, and confused. Hah! finally.

This afternoon I started thinking. It is a practice I try to do daily but I have fallen behind and I am down to doing it once a week. After all, I am a problem solver.

I figured there is a back button for the internet. I believe it is that button that looks like a triangle lying on its side and pointing left. I have never used it. But first I googled, What to do when you get to the end of the internet.

It gave me numerous solutions.

• Life is over as you know it. Have your wife send you to a home. (I Knew it!!!!)
• Have you learned everything you read on the internet. (Of course!!!)
• Learn how to verbally communicate with others using verbal skills rather than using a chat room, email or instant messaging. You might want to start by picking up the phone, dialing a wrong number and saying "I'm sorry!" Try short, choppy sentences at first then work you way up to big complex sentences. (I did that today.)

• Get up off your chair and try walking, take short steps at first then gradually increase the distance until you can no longer see your computer. For Heavens sake, give your hemorrhoids a break! If you have a problem leaving your computer for any length of time, seek the services of a trained professional for counseling. (I could bring a picture of my computer.)
• Read a book: Do you remember books? They still publish them. They have words in them. You could start with Donald Duck Comics. I don't like Donald Duck, Porky Pig, Daffy Duck, and Elmer Fudd in TV cartoons. They each have one thing in common. A speech impediment. I like them in comic books. It is a good place to start, people. (I could do this.)
• Get reaquainted with your significant other if you can find her. He/she may have left some time ago and you haven't noticed. You may have to hire a private investigator to find him/her. (duh!)
• Perhaps this will give me the time to discover one of the great mysteries of life. Yes, why are so many people totally incapable of pronouncing a three letter word. The word is "Ask." I hear that word pronounced "aks." What is that all about? It is not about education, race, or culture. It transcends all these. What is it? If I can figure this out I will move onto the meaning of life. Just Ask.

Surviving public school

THE SCHOOL

The Town and the school were built on the side of a mountain.
This is a picture of the "company" office. If you keep going down the stairs it will bring you right to the "memorial hall". The building had a gym, cafeteria, bowling alley in the basement, auditorium, music rooms, movie theatre, and a wicked scary fire escape, a couple of minarets, and various nooks and crannies.

The grade school is the building beside the "memorial" hall. A bunch of classrooms, teacher's room, Home Ec. in the basement and Wood and Metal shop classrooms. a couple of disgusting bathrooms. The High school was old, but well maintained. To get to the gym, you had to go into the basement of the building, after you got to the basement, the gym was another level down but a separate wing separated by stairs.

the basement was an ugly place. It was just a long corridor with... nothing except toilets, furnace room, locker rooms, and big air vents to the classrooms above.

The mines were behind the school. The landscaping was gray dirt from the mines. The schools sat on a plateau. You had your outside gym classes on a pile of dirt. If you lost a ball over the bank it was high adventure to retrieve it. some softballs were lost forever. It was a lot different than most schools. Its uniqueness had its charm. Pictures: The office, grade school and memorial hall, the high school.

THE EDUCATION

I received my education from at a small rural mining town school in upstate New York. In my town there were three public high schools, and two Catholic schools that went as far as 8th grade. The town's total population was about 7,500 people. The schools were actually very good schools. We could take courses that very few schools offer now. Four years of Latin, four years of French, Advance Math courses, Advance Science courses, Industrial arts (Woodworking, Advance Woodworking, metalworking).

My favorite classes were Physical Education and study hall. The education was good but the athletics were unbelievable. There were numerous great athletes in our town. One guy from my school became a major league pitcher and a World Series MVP. Another guy played for the Harlem Globetrotters. These two guys stick out in my mind, but there were numerous others who were great at sports in our town.

My school wasn't pretty. It was downright ugly. If you looked at it from the front it wasn't too bad. The back part was hideous. The school was built on a mesa of gray dirt (tailings) from the mines. below the mesa was the mines. The sounds coming from down the mesa to our classroom was the sound of ore cars being filled. The sound of

ore hoists coming out of the mines filled with ore, the sound of dynamite explosions at

2:20 pm every day. The miner's were getting more ore prepared for the next shift. It wasn't a quiet environment for education.

The teacher in our high school were a rough bunch. They would teach you or they would beat the crap out of you. Which ever you preferred. They would have beastly nicknames of vicious animals. Some names like Badger, Pegleg, Bull, Crazy Frank, Frizzy, and "Bloody" Blair, to name a few.

"Bloody" was a pilot in Army Air Force during WWII. He spent a lot of time in Australia. He married a cute Aussie girl and came back to teach school. He couldn't get Australia out of his system. It was bloody this, bloody that, and he couldn't pronounce the word perhaps any more. It was "pr'aps the bloody war affected me more than I thought." I think he ended up going back to Australia.

"Crazy Frank" was the hot tempered football coach and teacher. He was brutal at football practice. He would coin wonderful expressions like, " Wojahowski!!! Are you going to get your finger out of your ass and start blocking?" He would often accuse some poor polish kid of having their finger in some body orifice when they should have been blocking or tackling. But he would give tremendous pregame and half time speeches. The team would come out at half time ready to kill. Nasty football.

A little true story: After a big pile up after a play, one player we will call Ralph (which is good..because it's his real name) went back to the huddle and was smiling. Bob (which is his real name)asked Ralph why he was smiling. Ralph said, " I just bit some guy in the leg in that pile." Bob answered, " That was me you bit, You SOB!!!" really happened!!

"Bull" was a great teacher. He was also the most intimidating. I never saw him smile in my life. He was a really big guy. If you wanted to physically challenge him, he would take you up on it. There are legendary stories of him wrestling a student in the school stairwell in his younger days. You didn't mess with "Bull".

"Mobby" was the English and Latin teacher. I believe that Latin was her first language.

She would often say Latin phrases in English class, like it kinda slipped out. She was intimidating also. Her brilliance was sometimes overwhelming. I think she taught Julius Caesar. I know she spent time in Europe and was educated at the "Sorbonne" in Paris.

Hmmm! She must have known a tad of French also.

We had a teacher with the nickname "Fossil", he was obviously a science teacher.

"Twitch" was one of my teacher, "Pegleg" I just missed by one year.

I believe that some of my female elementary school teachers were actually guards at some Nazi prison camp during WWII. These women had Irish names but I would sometimes hear a little Teutonic tinge in their stentorian command.

Maybe it was just me.

Those were the days when a teacher was not allowed to kill you but everything else was ok. I had been manhandled and paddled by numerous teacher at the school. I did not run home and tell Mama and dada. Their theory was: You must have done something wrong, so you're going to get it again. No one got killed. I only heard one person beg for mercy before being paddled. He had a boil on his ass. No mercy was given. He got it anyway.

If the faculty and student did today what we did back then, a bunch of people would have been "incarcerated in the penitentiary" , as they say on the street now days. I couldn't even spell those words when I was in school.

It was an educational experience. It was also fun. I enjoyed school.

Colt Brandisher, Detective....problem solver!

Chapter 1

DRAFT #1:

Colt heard the cacophonous sounds of tree frogs croaking their maudlin symphony as the leaden projectile zoomed towards his head. Ironic, he thought. he would be croaking very shortly also. The high functioning brain that currently had the appearance of freshly cooked cauliflower would soon resemble half cooked turnip, perhaps mash potatoes, but certainly not cauliflower.

Colt thought of frogs. He liked frog legs. He would not have a chance to eat them again.

In fact, they would probably be feasting on his legs very soon.

"What!!!!...why am I thinking about food? I am milliseconds from death."

They say your life passes in front of you when death is imminent. Colt's life did pass in front of him. It was a boring life. He had some time left so he started thinking about food.

Wife: "How is your great American detective, Colt Brandisher doing?"

Me: Ummmmm!...Hmmmm!....Oh, oh!

Wife:"What?"

Me:" This is not good. I think I have killed him in the opening paragraph."

Wife: "He must have been a crappy detective. God rest his soul."

Me:" No, No!!!! He was great. A wonderful man. A great detective."

Wife: "Well, You wrote it, you can change it."

Me: (horrified) "I will not compromise my artistic integrity. What you suggest is just not possible."

Wife: "Alrighty then!!!!!"

(Mumbling going on...mixed in with a few curse words..more mumbling)

Wife: "Let me have a look at what you have written. Perhaps all is not lost."

Wife: "Bzzzz..mumble..bzzzz..mumble...HAH! all is not lost. This prose could be entered into a worst writing contest. Perhaps the Bulwer Lytton fiction contest for the worst opening line. You may actually get published."

Me: "HOW DARE YOU DEMEAN MY LITERARY TALENT....HOW DARE YOU?"

I ran to my room and threw myself on the bed and started weeping shamelessly into my goose down pillow.

I must come up with a solution. (sniff!...sniff!)

perhaps Colt will have to die....but I could work his life backwards from that spot.

a review of his life....or he could have an "oddjob" hat, like the villain in "Goldfinger".

He had a metal band in hat brim. a bullet could ricochet off the hat......or Colt could have a metal plate in his head from a previous incident. another ricochet solution.

Yes, I am a problem solver!!!!

Perhaps someone could suggest a solution.

My blog year in review

The HEMLOCKIAN Philosophy

Last year was my first year as a blogger. I enjoyed it very much. I have tried to write amusing little blogs. Occasionally I would start with an idea and by the end of it I would be standing on my soap box. I really don't have a political agenda. I just like common sense and occasionally some people make me crazy because they are just sowing fear.

The blogs I enjoyed the most had nothing to do with politics. I will recap some of my favorites and put in the link.

My Philosophy: Who I model my life after. (short and sweet)

My Internet Caregivers: Everybody has this problem.

Get off my lawn: The urge to be Clint Eastwood!

Adjusting to the weather: Moving even further south

Life is not fair:Adventures in personal grooming.

Living healthy through diet and exercise: A creative solution for healthy living?

Squirrelly is not a bad thing: In praise of squirrels.

Yahoo answers, really?: All questions..any subject...answered...!!!....???

The day I saw Jesus: I was just trying to get his autograph.

Jeopardy Meme: A meme in Jeopardy form or is it Jeopardy in meme form.

My two cents: Yeah! People get me cranky.

Problem Solving: Tidy solutions for an untidy world.

Some of my favorite subjects are about growing up in the 50's and 60's,writing a mystery series, crazy politics and logic, and just universal strangeness and crankiness on my part.

So basically my life in the past year has been solving problems: chasing Jesus, re-entering 5th grade, thinking I was Clint Eastwood, thinking of creative solutions for my personal grooming, health, writing detective novels and writing books on poop.

I am a problem solver.

For a transcript of my blog:

Option 1: send a SASE to:Jonathan Hemlock, Mail Boxes for less, Box43, Smithtown, Barbados (enclose $1500 for S & H)

Option 2: Copy and Paste.

I suggest the first option.

An Idea whose time has come.

I have always enjoyed blogging and writing. At this point in my life I have decided to take a break from my "Colt Brandisher" series, which I have referred to on previous blogs. My next installment on that series will actually be my first installment. It is a work in progress.

I have decided to put my energy into an endeavor that is much more essential.

An endeavor my father seemed to be obsessed with in the last few years of his life.

This idea has the potential for a vast market in the non-fiction field of literature. The interest may be high enough to push the bible out of first place in book sales. I have done my market research and it is a subject everybody seems to talk about, especially senior citizens.

While younger people talk about it indiscreet hush tones while older people talk about it openly, brazenly and constantly.

Since the "Baby Boomers" of the late 40's and early 50's are now becoming the senior citizen the market is fraught and inundated with potential buyers of this book.

No, I am not talking about a healthcare plan. I am talking about something more urgent and immediate.

Yes, I am talking about #2: taking a dump, Kaka, poop, to defecate. In fact, in the slang dictionary it has 127 entries.

There are thousands of books on cooking and recipes, which are will refer to uploading but there are very few on downloading.

I am running a few ideas through my head. I will need a catchy title. Something that will not offend peoples sensibilities. I leaning toward, "Drop a Deuce Diaries" or "The Scoop on Poop." but any good suggestions will be welcomed.

I have started doing my research. My main source is on the Internet. Any additional information or topics that may be covered:

• Two ply versus four ply
• On the roll (inside or out)

Any help in my literary adventure will be appreciated.

Your name will be mentioned prominently at the Pulitzer Prize ceremony. I am not sure if I will be allowed to mention you at the Nobel Prize for literature. I will keep you posted. I am not sure about the Academy Awards. I suppose it depends on their adaptation of my book.

This is really an idea whose time has come.