Horse Pucky Award of the Week #5

The Horse Pucky Award of the week goes to anyone in power who uses people as ways of extricating money from them...such as the U.S. government.

Anyone else would go to jail, but our elected officials seem to have no problem collecting money, in the form of taxes, to pad their own pockets. Call it taxes, call it what you want, I call it extortion. Actually, I'm really tired of the whole thing.

It's very disillusioning to see people who once had good jobs, a home, and food on the table, standing in line at soup kitchens. What went wrong? What's even scarier is...where is it all going?

I need to get off this doom and gloom kick. If I'm going to be homeless, it'll have to be in Tahiti. Upstate New York winters will be tough on my tepee.

Kissing is Fun

My cousin, Patty, sent this picture to me this morning. I love it!

Kids are great. They have no hang ups whatsoever.

The message here: Kiss a lot...no matter what!

Have a super day!

Burma Shave Nostalgia

Remeber those Burma Shave signs? I do. They originated in 1925 and went out of vogue in 1963. Now they're an American icon, with some in the Smithsonian Institute.

The familiar white on red signs, grouped by four, fives and sixes, were as much a part of a family trip as irritating your kid brother in the back seat of the family Studebaker.

At the height of their popularity there were 7,000 signs along America's highways. First you'd read one sign, then another, anticpating the punch line on number five and the familiar Burma-Shave on the sixth.

Those Burma-Shave signs allowed my brother to reach puberty. He used to drive me nuts on trips; poking and punching when my parents weren't looking. Then tattled when I punched back. Of course, I never did anything to him. All I wanted to do was read the Burma-Shave signs.

I used to love reading them along the highway. It was a great way to advertise shaving cream and lotion...and keep me from deep-sixing my brother. Now that I think about it, that's probably why I like advertising so much...and copywriting...and now my brother.

Here's another series of Burma-Shave signs on I-90. I think it was I-90. My long term memory is full of horse pucky fumes.

His cheek

Was rough

His chick vamoosed

And now she won't

Come home to roost

Burma-Shave

For more Burma-Shave slogans, go to www.fiftiesweb.com/burma.htm

Horse Pucky Award of the Week #4

Bernie Madoff won the Horse Pucky Award of the week. There were others considered such as AIG, but Bernie is, by far, the worst offender of humanity that ever came down the pike. Why? He scammed Elie Wiesel. How can anyone scam Elie Wiesel?!!!!!

Elie Wiesel was fifteen years old when he and his family were deported by the Nazis to Auschwitz. His jaw dropping book Night, is a depiction of his survival and the horrors of Auschwitz and Buchenwald where he watched his mother and younger sister die a horrible death. His two older sisters survived. Elie and his father were later transported to Buchenwald, where his father died shortly before the camp was liberated in April 1945.

Elie Wiesel won the Nobel Prize for Peace soon after he and his wife, Marion, established The Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity. Enter Bernie Madoff.

The Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity had $15.2 million under management with Bernard Madoff Investment Securities. This represented substantially all of the Foundation's assets. Now it's gone; probably in some off shore account for the rest of Bernie's family to enjoy.

The goal of the Foundation's programs is to provide immigrants with desperately needed academic tutoring, pre-vocational training, and social and emotional support. I could go on about the importance of the Foundation, but I'll let you check out the website instead. http://www.eliewieselfoundation.org/

Mr. Madoff, you really screwed up big time. May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits, and the accumulation of a years worth of horse pucky find their way into your sorry life.

Spring Nostalgia

I'm feeling nostalgic. It's a gorgeous first day of spring in Rochester, NY. Bright sunshine warms the ground even though Mother Earth was dusted with snow early this morning. It's the day my spring rituals begin...covering the gray, and painting my toenails red, but only after cleaning the horse pucky out of Silver's and Sadie's stalls this morning.

It's also the time I think about my childhood years and remember tunes my grandparents used to listen to; tunes that were brought back in my generation, which I still enjoy. You know, happy memory time tunes.

I started to reminisce about a fave group called The Ink Spots, and one of my all time favorite songs they recorded, I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire. I discovered it on YouTube and want to share it with you.

It made my first day of spring all mellow and cool.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9P86RwFijGY

It's Out!

It's out! I'm waiting anxiously for my signed copy to come in the mail.

Cranelegs Pond, the blook, is available through Amazon. Better yet, you can get to Amazon from Cranelegs Pond. Visit the pond first to read some of Bob's posts. You'll get an idea how enjoyable the book...oops, I mean blook really is. It's well worth the price. In fact, I think it's underpriced.

After reading the blook it made me forget all about the AIG bailout fiasco for a while along with the rest of the horse pucky I had to deal with today.

I visit the Pond every day to gain some sort of link to both sanity and humanity. It's a delightful place to be.

Go dip your toes in the Pond, then dive into the blook. You'll be glad you did.

I'm Not Paying Taxes

This week will be the easiest decision I've ever made in choosing the Horse Pucky Award recipient of the week. In fact, I'm so angry I'm having a tough time using decent language in today's post.

I find it incredulous that AIG has the gall to award themselves $165 million dollars for employee bonuses, and in the unit primarily responsible for the company's financial troubles! And THAT my friends, comes out of taxpayer dollars! If that isn't the biggest pile of horse pucky I've ever seen, I don't know what is.

I'm not paying my taxes this year. I'm not kidding. I refuse to support the corrupt, corporate, colorectal cobras who are supported by a government that looks the other way while congressional palms are being greased with corporate funds, further bolstered with taxpayer dollars.

On second thought, I'll give 10% of what I own to the government. Since I own two horses, ten percent of two horses comes out their back end, which equals 43 pounds of horse pucky per horse per day. You figured right; that's 86 pounds of horse pucky each day until April 15th when taxes are due.

Guess what the New York State Capitol and the Capitol in Washington D.C. will be finding on their doorsteps on April 15th?! The same thing we find on ours; almost a ton of horse pucky in 29 days.

Horse Pucky Award of the Week #3

There isn't enough horse pucky in the world for this week's recipient. The Horse Pucky Award of the Week goes to...George W. Bush. It was a toss up between Putin and Bush, but after giving serious thought, George W. ended up winning hands down.

Russia is thinking of establishing strategic aircraft in Cuba. That's just lovely! My daughter lives in Key West, which is 90 miles away.

George irked Russia by sending patrol ships into the Black Sea. Russia got even by invading U.S, ally, the Republic of Georgia. Probably because the name reminded them of George. Hopefully Russia, doesn't come over here and invade the U.S. state of Georgia. At least we don't have any states named "Barrack".

Then George W. got his underwear in a bunch and positioned missles in Poland and the Czech Republic further angering Russia. Last heard, Russia's heading for Cuba. I'd like to think it's for spring break, but I don't think so.

If Bush and Putin had both gone to Cuba to learn how to play together, nice, in the sand, we wouldn't be in this pile of horse pucky in the first place.

Seeing Things

It's March and it's snowing! Cabin fever has set in. I wanted to work in my garden, but the ground is frozen. Instead, I sat out on my front stoop this morning, cleaning the horse pucky off my riding boots. Lo and behold a chipmunk skateboarded right past me going in an easterly direction.

At first I thought I was seeing things, so I ran in the house for a cup of coffee I had just brewed. When I went back outside Mr./Ms. Chippy whizzed right past me heading west. I went back inside and grabbed my Kodak digital camera because I knew no one would believe me. You probably still don't believe me, but pictures don't fib. He's a cute little guy or girl. Can't tell what the gender is 'cause s/he was going too fast. My day is complete. I didn't garden, but I witnessed a skateboarding chipmunk of unknown gender.

Yes, I've lost my mind due to cabin fever and lack of sun. Hopefully, Ill find it again by May...my mind that is...maybe even the sun.

Horses Are My Bag

I've been around horses since I was eight years old. For those who don't get it, I'll tell you ...it's an addiction.

People who have known me for years understand it when I pull a tissue out of my pocket and hay falls out. For those who have just met me, I have to fill them in on my preoccupation with equines. They still don't get it, but that's okay.

Just to give you an example of what being a horseperson really means I'll site some examples:

• I am totally grossed out when I find a human hair in my food or in the bathtub, but not bothered at all by horse hair on my clothes, in my hair, or on my dinner plate.
• The back of my pickup truck looks like a rolling tack room complete with riding helmet, horse blankets, and hay cubes.
• I say "whoa" when I apply the brakes to my pickup truck and pat the dashboard saying, "good girl".
• I love pickup trucks.
• The only time I go to the grocery store is when I run out of carrots and apples.
• I have to dump shavings out of my shoes before going to marketing meetings.

You get the picture.

At least I own stock. The only problem is, my stock has eight legs. Horses are definitely my bag.

It's Wendy's Birthday!

This is a special day. It's my daughter, Wendy's 44th birthday. Wendy's a great person, not just because she's my daughter, but because she's a caring, loving, supportive woman.

She's also more fun than a barrel full of monkeys. She bakes kitty litter cakes, sends humorous cards for no reason, and is full of good cheer when the rest of the world is falling apart at the seems.

Family and friends are looking forward to a birthday bash this evening to celebrate 44 years of love, fun, and creative pranks.

Happy Birthday, Wendy. We all love you.

Horse Pucky Award of the Week #2

A-n-d...the horse pucky award of the week goes to ultatraditionalist bishop Richard Williamson who has said the Holocaust was exaggerated and that no Jews died in the Nazi gas chambers. What planet has he been on?! Even Vatican officials are among his many critics.

No wonder people are leaving the Catholic church in droves. Too bad, because there are many sensitive, caring clergy who have hearts rather than mortar at their core.

All you Roman potentates need to a get good dose of reality before we have nothing left of what the Church was originally intended to provide...spiritual direction.

Badunkadunk or Junk In the Trunk

Teenagers have a language all their own. Occasionally I have an opportunity to work with them either individually or in small groups. Most of them feel compelled to tell me about their day and some of the “cool” things they do. I find most teens to be charming, open, honest, and downright humorous without trying to be.

There are times, however, when it's very difficult to understand the meaning of what they're trying to communicate. Being around teens and their slang transports me into another dimension. I’m learning some of their lingo, but after hearing the following conversation I thought I was on another planet.

Conversation:
“When I was checkin’ out I saw some badunkadunk jivin’ down the road. Turns out she was a sparkler, so we started chillaxin.”

Translation:
When I was on my way home, I saw a pretty female (sparkler) with a big rear end that looked good (badunkadunk, sometimes called junk in the trunk) walking down the road. She was an old friend, so we hung out and relaxed (chillaxin).

Because I love words, I’ll definitely have to add badunkadunk to my vocabulary list. Knowing its double meaning makes me laugh. Chillaxin is a word combo that speaks for itself.

As you can see, sometimes it's necessary to ask for a t. t. (teen translator) who can help decode their jargon so that communication is in the present dimension rather than the twilight zone.

Is Your Participle Dangling?

I had a dream about dangling participles last night; probably because I had a bowl of chocolate-chip, fudge brownie, chocolate ice cream followed by half a jar of green olives before I went to bed. Instead of sugarplums dancing in my head, there were dangling participles hovering over the bedpost. Sounds kinda' kinky doesn’t it?

What is a participle? It's a word ending in “ing” and sometimes “ed”. It looks like a verb but acts as an adjective. A participle is used to describe other words in a sentence.

Dangling participles are writing faux pas. They are often humorous without intending to be, but can be both confusing and annoying when trying to convey a message. In order to avoid dangling participles in your writing, be specific. Avoid generalizations.

Two examples of generalizations are “there is”, and “it”. Make sure a noun or verb is in the sentence for the participle to clearly modify. A modifier is a word or group of words that describe other words in a sentence.

Whew! Let’s see now, dangling participles, verbs, adjectives, modifiers, there’s a lot to think about. Let’s have fun with dangling participles and their sometimes humorous, but confusing messages.

Incorrect: Writing carefully, dangling participles must be avoided. (Is the dangling participle writing carefully?)
Correct: While you are carefully writing, avoid dangling participles.

Incorrect: Flitting from flower to flower, the baseball player watched the bee. (I don’t think the baseball player is flitting from flower to flower, but you never know.)
Correct: The baseball player watched the bee flitting from flower to flower.

Incorrect: After being cracked open, the cook boiled the egg. (Oh, oh violence in the kitchen! I hope the cook wasn’t cracked open before the egg was boiled.)
Correct: The cook boiled the egg after it was cracked open.

Incorrect: Leaping off the cliff, I saw the mountain goat land safely 20 feet below me. (Look out below; the goat and I are on our way down!)
Correct: Leaping off the cliff, the mountain goat landed safely 20 feet below me.

So, folks, a dangling participle is not some kinky physical problem. It is a grammar problem. When writing, make your communication clear.

Always remember never to eat chocolate-chip, fudge brownie, chocolate ice cream and green olives before going to bed. I not only have a problem with dangling participles, I have a stomachache.