On Videos and Word Press


I used to post videos on this blog with regularity but now WordPress has disabled that feature. Heck, they’ve even made it harder to post photos. It used to be if I wanted to post a video I’d just grab a link off YouTube, paste it in, and we were set. Now I need to pay an extra $60 to get the capability to do it, plus there’s a ridiculous amount of rigmarole to go through once a blog has that feature. It’s like Montgomery Scott once said, “The more they overthink the plumbing, the easier it is to stop up the drain.”

So no videos for now. But the cat pictures will always be here. There’s always room for cat pictures.

Talk to the Hand

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New Rule

Freddie MercuryThe other day my wife was a run of talent show videos and I heard some screeching Whitney/Maria wanabe doing her histrionic best to ruin a Queen song. For the love of Freddie, why do these shows think they have to cover Queen? Dancing with the Stars has their professional singers butcher at least a couple Queen classics every season. This has to stop. There needs to be federal, nay international, jurisdiction on this matter.

From now on any pop singer shall not try to delve back into the classic rock vault, especially on rock singers that are impossible to cover like Mercury. Or Plant, or Chrissie Hynde (yes, this legislation includes “Brass in Pocket”). These songs do not work with the vocal gymnastics and runs favored by pop divas. Hell, few songs do. So please, a moratorium on this

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In Which I Update You on Mundane Things

I Don't Always AimMy foot is feeling fairly good these days. I walk with a very noticeable limp, I cannot drive or walk for any distance without the boot, and my ankle has some weird swelling going on. I have a MD appointment at the end of this month so we’ll see where I’m at but I feel I’ve turned the corner. It’ll be a long road before I can walk properly, let alone exercise by walking, but I feel like progress is being made.

I am now determined to be more careful in my diet. I know I’ve gained weight since breaking my ankle and it is high time to arrest that. I was a dumpling before this, albeit with a decent stamina on the treadmill. My dumpling days are over. So I’m going to watch what I eat now with a goal of being done by next May. That’s ten months with the idea that at some point I’ll be back to regular exercise. Ten months and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to stand nekid in front of the mirror and see something somewhat respectable.

I am starting to make inroads on writing book two of the trilogy. It’s going as well as can be expected. I will be sending out more queries to more agents this week and next. I’m crossing fingers, holding my thumbs, offering many Shubs and Zulls to be roasted in the depths of the Sloar. Whatever works.

Today, for the first time since the big break, I’m back to playing the guitar. This means everything I did before is pretty much lost, including my calluses. Maybe by late fall I’ll be up to playing a three chord song.

The dog has no immediate plans. The cats have promised me their agenda is to sleep, eat, hunt, and vomit at about the same rate they do now. I expect nothing less.

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Taking a Respite on Caturday


Another weird weather day here western North Dakota. The wind is blowing hard and it’s going to be moderate temps most of the day. It’s mid-July and we should be baking like pizza oven. Instead I’m wearing sweat pants.

Daniel is taking a break from his usual outdoor mayhem and malevolence. He spent most of the night and morning outside. I suppose that there are carcasses outside on the lawn that I’ll have to clean up. When I mowed a few days ago I churned up more than a few bloated birds. That really enhanced the mowing experience. But for now Daniel rests and dreams of murder. The birds and mice can rest as well.

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Bye Bye Johnny


Johnny Winter passed away yesterday at the age of 70. He lived life hard, with a host of bad habits, much like the elder bluesmen he loved and emulated but none of that matters. He was a powerful singer and a mofo of a guitarist. Johnny could play blustering clusters of notes, sweet tender passages, and mighty riffs. He was a monster of rock and blues, an individual voice who could even cover a Dylan song and eclipse the master. RIP you great glorious player.

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Won’t You Come Around to My Point of View


Office Space

I have wasted far too much time the last couple days trying to make our printer work. It’s this massive piece of dog stool from Brother, MFC-J5910DW. It keeps giving us this media error message and refuses to do anything. Twice I contacted the company via support chat and both times they were clueless as to how to reset this thing or remove that message. The company promised to call me but of course they didn’t. On the second chat they even lied about calling me and finding no one home on a day when we were home the entire day.

So I’m done with this fiasco. I’m throwing this thing into the garage and I’ll have to find some way to get the garbage men to take it, even if it means breaking it into pieces ala Office Space. Come to think of it, that might be the most satisfactory end. Where did I put that sledgehammer…

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I’m Trying Oh Great Gaiman, I’m Trying

You should be writing

Today I finished some changes to book one and made the official move back to book two. There were a lot of niggling details I was concerned with and I think I have all of them covered now. Book two is sitting at about 25,000 words or almost a fifth done. The second book of a trilogy is always a strange beast, the connective tissue between the opening fray and the thundering climax. I have a very good idea of where this book is going and what declines and advances each principal character faces. It’s a delicate balance but I think I pulled it off with the first round so there’s no reason it shouldn’t work for the second. So as the Joker said: Here.We.Go.

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