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This Damn Phone

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The alert sounded on my phone for the third time this afternoon: “Heavy thunderstorms.” I got that alert after a spam blast of six straight calls from people who evidently want to give me hundreds of thousands of dollars in loans. I also get about 10 spam emails a day as well. Yet, the phone can also spook me from time to time. Sam left the house wearing the one pair of shoes that I own that aren’t my work boots. I was holding the phone in my head as I had a conversation about how I guess I needed to buy new shoes. I was immediately blessed with ads for shoes! I’m not kidding. It was picking up my private discussions. Sometimes it works out though because I looked up information about the new Stones record - yeah, in their mid-80’s they’re releasing an album of new material - and after looking around… …I got a bunch of Stones interviews. There is no doubt that my phone is aware that I’m a pasta-eating, fan of rock and roll who likes golf and the New York Yankees. And they try and sell ...
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A Dumb Decision?

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My son was all fired up about having a day off. “We’re golfing at Diamond Hawk at 3:45. We have a spot open.” “I’d love to play,” I said. “I can probably be ready by then.” “You’re in!” Sam yelled. “But there aren’t any carts, you know.” Yet I went around the sites as the skies threatened rain. I thought about walking 18 holes, and knew the course would be wet. Decided to back out. I was working on reports when Sam texted: “You’re backing out? There’s no rain. They have push carts.” How could I disappoint him? “No, I’ll be ready,” I said. I only played Diamond Hawk once, and it kicked my ass. The big problem was the walking. I haven’t walked a course since I was 18 years old! Around hole 7 I thought: “This isn’t so bad.” By hole 13, I changed that opinion. My back was barking. But we had some laughs, and the course to ourselves. I was sweating. Had hit some good shots. Definitely parred a few holes, but I abandoned keeping score as the conditions weren’t great… …and by 15, I wanted to ...
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“I Thought I Was A Doctor”

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I don’t want to even think about the giant, orange pedophile, but here I am. Woke this morning and was immediately greeted by a photo of him, as Jesus, with his hand on the forehead of a dying man who looked like Epstein. There are all sorts of religious lights and figures around him. He looks as if he’s shooting flames out of his hands. It’s similar to the photo that he put out with him dressed as the pope. There was another showing him walking on water. What’s funny is that in the fake photos he’s as fit as Rocky Balboa. Well, this time, he pissed off all the people who believed that he was a true Christian, who lives a life of piety and respect and dignity.  A real beacon of love. This time, they didn’t like that he pictured himself as white Jesus. So, they asked him about it, and he blamed: All together now! THE FAKE MEDIA “I posted it because I thought I was a doctor.” The president of the United States ladies and gentlemen. Let’s recap what fake Jesus did this past week: 1). ...
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Big Garbage Day

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Weather was all right this weekend which allows us to get a jump start on clearing debris and figuring out where all the garbage that accumulated in the garage came from. I cleared some of the leaves that were stuck along the fence, and opened the garage to see that the garage was used as a place for my boys to drop off the garbage they no longer need. It was now my task to drag it to the curb because it was big garbage day, which is an exciting time for all. Big garbage day is an exciting time for an elderly guy who scours the neighborhood for gems. The guy has a pickup truck that looks a little like the vehicle that Lamont Sanford had in Sanford & Son. He takes anything and everything that has any value at all. One year, I decided to clear out the bikes, as the boys were done with them. I lugged all 6 bikes to the curb and put a huge ‘Free’ sign on them. Ten minutes later, I heard his truck. I watched him load a bike. Then another. He was going for a third one when I headed out. ...
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A Bucket of Balls

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The sun was shining. Yeah, it was only 44 degrees, but I felt all right this morning. “I’m gonna’ hit a bucket,” was my first thought. I made the short drive to the range, and noticed that there weren’t any other cars in the lot. Saw the owner walking by. “Can I hit a bucket?” “Yeah. The mats aren’t set up, but you can hit from the dirt in front.” Which was fine with me. I’d rather hit off the ground than a mat any time. “But it’s a little muddy,” he said. Which turned out to be the understatement of the year. I struggled mightily with the tee as I hit a dozen balls with my seven iron. Then I moved forward a little more and hit about 25 balls with the cheat club that is my 7 wood. Finally, pulled the driver out and swung until I was tired. I could count the number of balls I hit well on one hand, but I was winded. Felt good. A little more waiting, but getting there. I cleaned each club, and put the right club in the right slot in my bag. They’re talking sunny and fifty tomorrow. I’m he...
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My Hoodie

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I have a hoodie that was given to me by a contractor. It’s very comfortable, and unfortunately, I WEAR IT EVERY DAMN DAY! Other contractors, seeing the company name on the hoodie I wear have given me gear from their company. They don’t feel the same. I love my hoodie, but I’m not kidding when I say that I’ve worn it every day (with the exception of being in Florida for 5 days) SINCE SEPTEMBER! SEVEN MONTHS! And of course, I wash it. That’s the first question I get when I mention how long I’ve worn it. I’m tired of it. I want to golf. I feel like a single round will get my mind right. But the weather simply won’t cooperate. It’s cold and clear, or warm and raining. The guys I usually play with are allergic to even a single rain drop so we won’t be roughing it. If Doppler shows even the hint of a misting we don’t go. (I’m just busting on them…I have nothing else to say). With all the bullshit…and the Yankees suddenly not hitting…I need somewhere to hang my hat… …or my hoodie… …if I ever ...
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Down Goes Frazier!

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It happens to every construction guy at least once a year. There are elevation changes. There is debris. Cords and hoses. Sooner or later, you’re gonna hit the deck. I can attest that as an older man, hitting the deck is not good. Was a bright sunny day today. I visited a job that had a scaffold about thirty-five feet in the air. I didn’t have to access the scaffold, I just had to simply walk around it and make sure the setup was good. I’d like to say that I tripped because I was looking up as I walked, and I didn’t see the 2’ crane mat near the scaffold. That’s not what happened. I saw the crane mat, and I had a thought that standing on the mat would allow for a better photo. I was looking at my feet. I knew I had to step up. I just didn’t pull it off, and man, I went down hard, dropping my iPad. My phone fell out of my shirt pocket. My hardhat fell off. And I had an instant panic because my knee hit hard and sent waves of pain to my brain. The thought I had was: “Bounce right back up...
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