Horse Pucky Advice: Tasteless Christmas Gift

Dear Horse Pucky,

Five years ago, for Christmas, my now-92-year-old-mother gave me the ugliest sweater I've ever seen. I thanked her for it and told her it was not my style or my size and to please return it, get the money back, and go buy something nice for herself. What did she do?! She kept it for five years, thinking I'd forget about it, and then gave it to me again this year as a Christmas gift. You're probably thinking,'At 92, she's a tad dotty,' but she isn't. She's sharp as a tack, loves bargains, and thinks no one will notice how cheap she is. 

I hate to call her bluff, but the sweater is the tackiest thing I've ever seen. What is the best thing to do so as not to hurt her feelings?  I DON'T WANT IT BACK!

~Ugly Sweater  Kid

Dear USK,

This year keep the sweater and make mittens out of it. Trace your hand with a marker on the sweater, cut out hands, then stitch up with yarn. Next cut off the ribbed part of the sleeve on the sweater, then stitch onto base of mitten with yarn to make a ribbed, bottom sleeve to mitten, and voilla...you have a pair of hand-made mittens.

If you don't wear mittens, give them to your mother. She may or may not notice they're made out of the same sweater she gave you twice in five years. In any case, the mittens will keep her warm. She'll love it. If not, she may never talk to you again. But then you won't have to deal with unbecoming  sweaters at Christmas.

~Horse Pucky

No Snow but Lots of Squirrels



Look, no snow!

There is absolutely no snow in Rochester, NY. I just went outside and snapped this picture of my back yard, and the woods, with nary a trace of snow anywhere. Not one single flake. This is highly unusual this time of year around these parts, and I must admit, I 'd like to see some of the white stuff for Christmas.

What I do have are plenty of squirrels, each doing a tap dance on the roof. It got so noisey in my office this afternoon, I had to go outside and yell at the little gray fur balls to "tone it down". They chattered back at me and scampered to the neighbor's rooftop, cursing, all the way, in squirrel language.

 That's what I get for putting shelled walnuts out as a Christmas holiday treat for my woodland friends...a herd of ungrateful squirrels. Or is it a scurry of ungrateful squirrels? Maybe it's a flock? Yipes, who cares. Time to get back to work.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! YOU ARE LOVED.    

Cranberries and Spooky Happenings

cranberries

Cranberries are one of my favorite foods. They not only taste good but they're good for you and can be used in a multitude of recipes.

 I thought cranberries grew in bogs further north than upstate NY, so I was surprised to see a couple of stray cranberry plants in the woods, down by the creek, behind my townhouse. It was late afternoon when I decided to go for a stroll. Before too long the sun started to set, and I thought, 'I need to get back home before it gets dark because I'm alone and it's kinda creepy back here in the woods.'

However, those little red berries intrigued me and I figured if I pilfered at least one plant, I'd plant it in my garden, nurture it, and grow my own berries for the holidays. I waded across the creek in my neoprene rubber boots, bent over to pull up one of the plants, then slipped and fell into the creek.  Apparantly the water was warmer than the air because, when I stood up, I was steaming from neck to toe.

As I was making my way home in the dark I was thinking, "As soon as I get into the house, I'm going to make a cup of hot tea because I'm freezing." The air temp was 36 degrees. By the time I got to the door, there were two firetrucks, and two Irondequoit police cars, one with a K-9 unit.

My neighbor is a volunteer fireman. He looked out his back window and saw a headless form walking out of the woods with steam emaninating from its body and decided to call 911.

I never did get that cranberry plant, but I got a lot of metaphorical horse pucky from the neighbors. As for the fireman and the police, I told them I was happy to see my tax dollars hard at work. I gave the German shepherd a dog bisquit. 

Store Bought Is Better

dill weed

If asked, I'll bet most of you would probably say that anything home-made is better; better tasting, more appealing to the eye, and better for you. In the case of my home-made dill pickles, you'd be dead wrong.

I'm not exactly Suzy Homemaker, but I am a pretty fair cook... except for my attempt at making home-made pickles. They tasted like digits dipped in gasoline-gone-bad. I don't understand how I made such awful tasting cucumbers. Maybe it was the dill I grew in my garden or maybe I followed the recipe wrong or maybe someone left out something in the recipe on purpose, but the pickles were just awful.

Since the pickle escapade, I tried using the dill in a potato salad recipe and it tasted great, so I know it's not the dill. Good friends who share recipes are trustworthy, so I really don't think they'd leave out a key ingredient. Then I double checked the jars I put the pickles in just to see if anything in the jar was suspect. And there it was!

A spider the size of New York State was nestled in and around the dill weed. It was the worst looking thing you ever saw. It was big enough to emit an awful taste, but I don't think the spider was the culprit. It didn't matter.  I threw out all the jars of pickles and decided that store bought is better.

Debts 'R' Us

I am sick and tired listening to people bluster on and on and on, ad nauseum, about the current economic climate being the result of our current administration. Turn off the damn TV and start reading economic history!

The United States has had a public debt of $75,463,476 since its founding in 1791 as a result of the American Revolutionary War. The debt got paid off because there were 14 budget surpluses and 2 deficits. Then there was a sharp debt increase because of the War of 1812. The U.S. paid off 99.97% of that debt due to surpluses.

Here's where it starts really going downhill fast. As a result of the Civil War, the debt was $65 million in 1860, passed $1 billion in 1863 and by the end of the war reached $2.7 billion. During the following 47 years there were 36 surpluses and 11 deficits with 55% of the debt paid off.

Do you see more than one pattern here? There have been, and continue to be, layers and layers of political horse pucky thrown at the American people for the last 225 years. Turn off your TV and read some economic history. Think for yourself. Then vote for The Horse Pucky Queen.

P.S.Many thanks to wikipedia for a quick synposis of the historical data in this blog post. You may want to read, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, by Edward Gibbon. It's scary...we're almost there.

Wilford Resemblance

Paucus

Wilford Brimley

Our family loves animals, all kinds of animals, especially cats. My daughter has three cats; Paucus, Hiram, and Sunny. Paucus loves to pose for the camera, loves to be groomed, and just loves to be loved. He's a real character with "ham" as part of his persona.

The other two cats, Hiram and Sunny, disappear for parts unknown as soon as the camera comes out. There's no froo-froo stuff for them unless you want to become shredded wheat or shredded meat.

Here's the deal: I think Paucus looks like Wilford Brimley. For those of you who are too young to remember Wilford, I'll refresh your memory. WB appeared in movies such as Cocoon, The China Syndrome, and Absence of Malice to name a few. His recent TV commercials include Quaker Oats, and Liberty Mutual. He's a talented actor, so he's bit of a "ham" himself.

Just out of curiosity, do you think Paucus and Wilford resemble one another? I'm taking bets on this.

Horse Pucky Advice: Face Lifts and Beyond

Dear Horse Pucky,

My husband was looking at me kind of funny when I got out of the shower this morning and mentioned that certain parts of my anatomy are looking droopy. He suggested plastic surgery to "perk up" those parts and even offered to pay for the procedures. I'm leery to go under the knife for any reason. What should I  do?

~Droopy


Dear Droopy,

Don't do it!! I'm sure you're beautiful just the way you are. As we age, gravity naturally takes over, and who cares anyway. I mean, what's really important here! If you want to tone up, go to the gym and find a trainer who will help you get into shape gradually.

Have your husband take a good look at what's drooping on him, then offer him a can of spray starch along with a can of putty and a sharp-edged putty knife.

~Horse Pucky

Rustling Reeds

Reeds on Irondequoit Bay

There are instances when I do some really dumb things. I mean really dumb!

See the reeds in the picture, to the right? Not only do I like to photograph them; I like to cut them, dry them, and use them for decoration as I do other natural flora and fauna in November.

The first time I decided to try this, I carefully cut an armful of reeds to the desired length, so the reeds would fit nicely into the decorated milk can I use for floral arrangements. Then I hung the reeds upside down, and outside to dry for a week. After they were properly dried, I brought the dehydrated  reeds into the house and plunked them into the milk can, where I displayed them in the corner of the living room. They looked really pretty and I was complimented on how something as simple as a local "weed" could add such a nice touch to the decor.

About one month went by and I started to hear rustling noises in the living room. Then it went away. Then it came back. This went on for about three days. I finally figured out where the rustling sound was coming from because after 30 days there was major movement coming from the milk can.

There were millions of bugs nesting in the reeds...I mean millions! The warm temperature in the house re-activated the little buggers. Little did I know that I was supposed to expose my dried hanging arrangement to at least a couple of major frosts in order to kill any dormant critters. Shame on me.

Reeds, milk can, and ribbon went out the back door as fast as you can say "Horse Pucky". It all got tossed in the woods, except the milk can, which got scrubbed. The rest of the house got liberally sprayed with Raid and I spent a lot of time in the barn, which is a polite way of saying I was in the doghouse.

Now I use silk flowers in the milk can. I still spend a lot of time at the barn...but not for the same reason.

Day After Thanksgiving

Jon and I

This shot was takent the day after Thanksgiving, which just happened to fall on my grandson, Zane's 17th birthday. Needless to say, we were having a good time, especially me.

 Believe it or not I had nothing alcoholic to drink, but could be suffering from food overload. Thanksgiving was filled with an abundance of fresh food from the harvest and a yummy turkey we all enjoyed. My son-in-law cooked the turkey, my daughter baked pumpkin pies, and the rest of the family brought their signature side dishes.

Day after Thanksgiving: Zane wanted his favorite meal for his birthday; "Grammy 's"  homemade sauce and meatballs. And that's what he got. The sauce was made with fresh tomatoes from the garden, other fresh veggies, and loads of meat (homemade Italian sausage, grilled spare ribs, and my special meatball recipe). 

After all that food, my grandaughter, Ivey, let me borrow her faux fox hat to try on. Jon said, "Cute, just don't go out in the woods with that on your head." He's always looking out for my safety as well as being lovingly supportive of me. Secretly, I think he wonders why he ever got mixed up with The Horse Pucky Queen.

A Thanksgiving Ditty

Squash is squished, pies are baked; cranberries are chillin'.
Sprouts are cooked, turkey's stuffed, but something's really missing.

I know what I forgot.

It's time to take a gratitude break and have some words with God:
"I'm really glad I woke up today, on this side of the sod."

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYBODY!  You are loved.

~The Horse Pucky Queen

Horse Pucky Advice: Nude Beach or Not

Dear Horse Pucky,

We have been invited to go to a resort in the Caribbean that has nude beaches only. My spouse and I aren't exactly in the greatest shape and are embarrassed to expose our never-seen-in-public-parts to the rest of the world. We don't want to be stick-in-the-muds or seem boorish. What should we do?

~Flabby and Conservative

Dear F & C,

Let it all hang out and be sure to bring lots of sunscreen. It's a great incentive to get in shape together.

Teddy Graham Experiment

Friday is the end of the work week for me. That's when I start getting a little squirrely.

During my lunch break, I decided to see how long it would take before a teddy graham would sink to the bottom of a cup of milk. I put four chocolate "teddy bears" into the milk at two second intervals. As you can see, the first one is almost totally submerged. You can still see the complete body of the last bear I plunked on top of the milk.

Purpose of the experiment: To see how long before they sank, and to let you know I think I've finally lost it. Boredom during lunch breaks does strange things to people's minds when they eat alone. 

In case you haven't already figured this out, the main reason I did this was to eat these delectable chocolate graham cracker morsels with an ice cold cup of milk. Believe me, they're delicious on top of the milk as well as after they've sunk to the bottom. It's one of those kinds of treats that are perfect when you're not sure what you want, but want just a little something.

P.S. Thanks to the Sisters of Mercy, I got my very own box of Nabisco chocolate teddy grahams when I went trick or treating at the convent on Halloween.

Dirty Picture

Blue human legs...me. Black human legs...my good friend, Donna. 

Now that I have your attention, I want you to know that my two thoroughbred mares, Silver Lining on the left and Silver City Sadie on the right were shiny, sparkling, silver-clean yesterday. Today they look like a couple of very large mud balls.

Horses and young children are alike. Wet dirt and mud puddles attract both species like a magnet.

It's bad enough the horses have to roll in it, but Silver likes to grind it in. She even had dirt on the inside of her ears. Sadie isn't quite so messy, but filthy dirty nevertheless. They both had fun in their new digs, and they're happy. For those of you who know me, when my horses are happy, I'm happy.

The Pumpkin Patch



My favorite pumpkin patch.

Everyone has a favorite pumpkin patch. The one to the right is my preferred acre of choice. It's owned by a local, third generation, crop farmer and his family.

I used to buy the best hay you'll ever find here, but I no longer have my own farm so I'm not currently in the market for forage. Part of the charm of picking up hay was the chit-chat with farmer Dave about crops, our John Deere tractors, and the weather.

The next best thing to all that "farmerly" charm is now visiting  Dave's pumpkin patch, where I purchase the round beauties from him for pies, decoration, and for an occasional treat for the deer out back.

Pumpkins are really cool because of all the different colors, shapes, textures, and versatility as a food item. Warts, uncommon colors, and bizarre shaped pumpkins are my favorite. I can find them all in this wonderful, homey, someplace-where-you-can-go-back pumpkin patch.

Horse Pucky Advice: Odd Gift

Dear Horse Pucky,

My husband wanted to buy me something different for my birthday. He wanted it to be practical yet sexy. You'll never believe what he got me! A purse-size taser gun! He thought it was sexy because it fit in my purse and that I'd be safe in case of an emergency.

I hate the damn thing. I don't want to hurt his feelings by telling him that I refuse to carry it in my purse and I think it's the dumbest gift he ever bought me. What should I do?

~Mrs. Taser

Dear MT,

Your husband is just looking out for your best interests. HOWEVER, I'd seriously think of using that sexy, yet practical gift on him.

~Horse Pucky

Treats Instead of Tricks at the Convent

This Halloween I decided to do a little trick-or-treating on my own rather than answer the door for the little crumb crunchers in my neighborhood. I figured a safe place to go would be to the local convent a few blocks away from my townhouse.

Around 6:30 p.m. I drove my pick up truck to the nunnery and parked it in their driveway, disguised as myself. I rang the convent bell, holding an empty champagne glass, with a huge grin on my face. The Sisters of Mercy actually let me in. They poured me a glass of champagne, fixed me an elegant meal, and sent me home with a box of chocolate teddy grahams.

It was one of the best Halloween Eve's I've had in a long time; especially after the second glass of champagne accompanied by loads of laughs.

The best part is having a box of chocolate teddy grahams all to myself.

Halloweenie

Key West, Florida puts a whole new meaning into Halloween. This weekend is fantasy fest down there. From what I've been told, most of the locals leave town for the weekend. Those who stay are treated to some mighty interesting spectacles.

My daughter's medical practice is on the parade route, and she just informed me, while looking out her window, that most of the folks in the parade are naked except for some minor covering over their whoohas. That's what they call their private parts in Key West...whoohas. Those in the parade come in all shapes, sizes, genders, and ages. That in itself is a pretty scary thought.

Keeping in mind that Halloween is on Monday the 31st, I guess you can call those dangling, male parts parading around the city of Key West, Halloweenies. I'm not too sure what to call the partially clad females. In the 1950s we used to call them "seat covers".

Happy Halloween y'all!

Holy Guacamole!

I gotta tell ya, there's all kinds of stuff going on out there with my blogger pals. We have speeding BMWs flashing their high beams, sexy elves in trees with big boobs, a 105 year old man who looks like a leprechaun, wall street protesters, illegal immigrants and all sorts of interesting, fun stuff.

Then there are the commentors who are funny as heck. I'm almost certain one them is running around Vancouver trying to find one of those elves. We won't mention any names.

Holy guacamole, it's hard to keep up with it all! Thanks for the laughs, your interesting opinions, and most of all...thanks for being you.

Check my favorite blogs in the column to the right of this post. You'll be glad you did. 

Horse Pucky Advice: Life After Death

Dear Horse Pucky,

We just got back from a funeral for my Uncle Josh. Ater the funeral we all met at my cousin's house for brunch. Some moron started tallking about his religious beliefs or rather disbeliefs and said there is no life after death, no heaven, no nothing. His statement was, "When you're dead, you're dead!" I thought he was out of line and downright rude. What are your thoughts on this?

~I Hate Morons

Dear IHM,

First of all "Hate" is a pretty strong word, but anger is understandable when you're grieving. One of my rules in group situations like this is: Never discuss religion, politics, or sex unless you're ready for World War III.

We live in a country where we are able to practice religious freedom. Whether you believe or don't believe in a life after death is beside the point. The point is to respect others opinions and be especially compassionate during bereavement time. 

My personal opinion is, I think the person who brought this up in the first place is an insensitive dolt and totally out of line at a very sensitive time. Someone needs to send him a bag of horse pucky.

~Horse Pucky

In the Corner

It has been noted by several people that, when given the choice, I always choose a corner seat in a room. Someone asked me, "Why do you do that?" I replied, "It's probably because I spent most of my time in the corner as a kid."

Then I remember doing some pretty...uh...adventuresome things growing up.

Things like:

1. Setting my rag doll on fire and throwing it into my mother's upright baby grand piano.

2. Calling my father an S.O.B. at age 3 and having no clue what it meant. Mom said I must have heard the words S.O.B from one of the construction workers outside.

3. Blowing up a paint can and singeing my eyebrows.

4. Lighting a candle under the covers (I couldn't find a flashlight) so I could read when I was really supposed to be sleeping, which accidently set the sheets on fire.

5. Putting snakes in the bathtub.

6. Sneaking a pair of hamsters into the house which ended up being 30 hamsters. I had them well-hidden for a while.

...and the list goes on. Now you all know why I choose a corner chair. It's the safest place for me to be.

Cow Electricity

Farmers are now using fermented cow manure to generate electricity. It creates an interesting image for me. Everytime I go to turn the lights on, I'll picture myself basking in the romantic glow of cow plops while sitting on the sofa drinking an ice cold glass of milk, eating a bowl of ice cream, or snacking on cheese and crackers.

Cows are udderly amazing critters. They provide us with some of my favorite food groups, and now are able to generate electricity in a Go Green environment.

The next time you see "Bessie" moo cow, be sure to give her a carrot or an apple and thank her for her contributions to the kitchen table as well as her donation to an environmentally correct society.

As for me, I'm currently trying to figure out how to use horse pucky as an alternative to gasoline. When I find out, I'll let you know.

Greeting Card Prices

I don't know about you, but I love to send and receive greeting cards; all kinds of cards. It's just who I am. However, it's getting to be a costly venture, so I've decided to make my own.

The last time I went to the store, it cost me $4.95 for a birthday card for a close friend. I'm not a cheapskate by any stretch of the imagination, but if I continue paying that much for a card times the amount of people whose birthdays I celebrate, I'll be broke in no time. And that's just birthday cards! That's why I decided to make my own cards.

Now I have a line of note cards created out of the Horse Pucky Studios office (which is really the second bedroom in my townhouse). People have enjoyed the individual cards I've sent them, so I thought I'd offer them to others who are as frugal as I am. It's $7.00 for a box of  eight cards plus shipping. I haven't shipped any yet, so I have not idea how much that'll cost.

Thanks Ev, for the inspiration for this post. Check out "Eye of Newt" to the right for a really fun blog to read, under "My Favorite Blogs".

Three Big Pigs

Three Big Pigs: Democrat, Republican, and Tea Party

Once upon a time there were three pigs who got too big for their own epidermis. One was a democrat, affectionately known as an ass; one was a republican, often referred to as the elephant in the room no one wanted to talk about; while the third big pig was really a mad hatter in disguise and the head of the Tea Party movement.

None of the three pigs really cared about the people they served, only their own self-serving. And believe me, there was a lot of self-serving going on. Campaign spending had run amok. Special interest groups courted the three big pigs on a daily basis. Everyone was in bed with everyone else both metaphorically speaking and literally. You get the picture.

Then one day something happened. People decided not to feed the pigs anymore. People also started investigating big business, HMOs, and the education industry. The three big pigs started to lose weight. There was no more campaigning, no more war, no more contributions and the greasing of palms by those with deep pockets. It was just awful for the three big pigs!

However, it was wonderful for the people, of the people, and by the people because they decided to have a lean meat pig roast. I heard certain people even brought their own homemade BBQ sauce and baked beans. 

Horse Pucky Advice: Thank You Notes

Dear Horse Pucky,

What's with people today?! When I was a child, my mother always stressed the importance of writing and sending a thank you note for gifts received on birthdays and special occassions. She said is was good manners and made the gift giver feel appreciated. For those gifts that are mailed it also lets the gift giver know that the post office delivered your gift to the correct address and in one piece.  

It seems the mannerly practice of thank you notes has gone by the wayside. Tsk-tsk. What are your thoughts on this? Am I being too old fashioned?

~Disgruntled Gift Giver

Dear Disgruntled,

I agree with your mother. A simple thank you note is not only good manners; it's the least one can do when receiving a gift from another person.

You're not old fashioned at all. If someone is thoughtful enough to spend time and money to buy a gift, then the receiver of the gift should take five minutes and write a thank you note, whether the gift is mailed or not.

Some people are ignorant, just plain lazy, or worse yet...neanderthalls.

~Horse Pucky

Who Woulda' Thought?!



Lake Ontario, hurricane Irene, and two wacko surfers.

Jon and I decided to take a car ride to the lake on Sunday and view the reported 10 foot waves created by hurricane Irene. Lake Ontario is only five minutes from my townhouse, so I figured if the weather got too bad, we could make a quick getaway, get to my place quick, and hang out in the basement.

Turns out the waves were at least ten feet high with wacko surfers out there in the water doing their thing. In fact one of the sufers had words printed on the back of his jacket that read, "Rochester Surfing Club". Who woulda' thought there was a surfing club in Rochester, NY? We don't have any surf, anywhere, except for this last Sunday, and that was due to hurricane Irene. They must practice in their jacuzzis or go out to Big Sur when they get a chance.

All I can say is those guys are crazier than I am, being out there in 10 foot plus waves. The wind was brutal. I was on the beach with my feet in the water taking pictures. There's no way I'd go any deeper than my ankles; not on a million dollar bet. No siree, Bob.  

My biggest thrill was waving to "lightly", a regular Horse Pucky reader and commentator, who lives across the lake, in Canada. Hey, lightly, I put a message in a bottle for you. Hope you got the note. If not, let me know. 

Hurricane Irene was kind to us in Rochester, NY. There was little rain, only 50 mph winds, and no damage. Viewing Mother Nature, at her most powerful, was awesome, breathtaking, and beautiful. It was a really cool experience.  

Horse Pucky Advice: Dish to Pass

Dear Horse Pucky,

My husband and I are invited to dinner at a couple's house this weekend. When I asked if we could bring a dish to pass, the hostess emphatically said, "No!" I feel really funny showing up empty handed. What should I do?

~Not Too Sure

Dear NTS,

First of all, I wouldn't have asked to bring a dish to pass. I suggest you purchase a nice bottle of their favorite wine to take to the house. If they don't drink, perhaps a lovely bouquet of flowers for the table would be nice. There are plenty of gorgeous summer flower bouquets available at local roadside stands.

Just remember, no means no.

On the other hand, if you were coming to my house for dinner, I'd have asked you to bring the whole dinner...and the wine...and the flowers.

~Horse Pucky

Rumble Seat

Holy moly! I was sitting on my swivel chair, in my office, when the chair started to vibrate. It started out feeling more like a quiver, then turned into a strong vibration.

The next thing I heard was a rattle. When I turned around to look where the noise was coming from, I saw my printer doing the shimmy shake on it's stand. The whole vibrating, rattle thing lasted about 10 seconds. If I wasn't so unnerved, I may have enjoyed the vibrating chair. "What the heck is going on?", I said outloud to the wall.

Across the computer screen was a wide yellow band with large black letters on the band that said, WEATHER ALERT, "There has been an earthquake in Virginia that has reached as far north as NY and D.C."  Now there's a real butt slapper for ya'. An earthquake in this area. Great.

This whole shake, rattle, and roll experience made me realize how important it is not to postpone things you enjoy doing, so I decided to go out and buy a vibrating chair.

Twisted Retoric

Ya gotta love those politicians and their twisted rhetoric. All the horse pucky they spew is enough to make you dizzy.

Unions, corporations, and the education industry are all major contributors to the political machine. Unfortunately, money talks. The chief players who influence public policy are the ones with the deepest pockets and unlimited funds.

Obama received *$24.5 million from individuals within the education industry who have a six figure plus income. We know who they are, and we know who they aren't. It's the superintendents of school districts, presidents of major universities, and their "yes" men. It's definitely not the teachers who are in the trenches all day.

The politicians claim it's a charitable, educational donation to help the students toward a better future through education. All I have to say to that is, "HORSE PUCKY"!!! Take that $24.5 million and put it toward more support staff for at risk students. Then maybe I'll start believing your claims for change; change that is supposed to better serve the people who voted you into office instead of listening to your twisted rhetoric.

* Figures from www.opensecrets.org

Sigma Delta Nu: Sisters of Devilish Nonsense

Class reunions bring out the best and the silliest in us. The beanie cap I'm wearing is something I saved from my high school days. Don't ask me why, 'cause I'm usually a tosser of all things not usable. I guess it's because I thought it would be fun if I showed up at my 50th class reunion with that silly looking cap. And it was; fun I mean.

I forgot what Sigma Delta Nu stood for and was reminded by one of my classmates that the Greek letters were the first letters of the phrase, Sisters of Devilish Nonsense. I should have known. I won't go any further with this, because what was said and done fifty years ago stays with the class of 1961. All I can tell you is, we had a lot of laughs mixed in with some very creative high jinks. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

Swan Lake and Blue Moon

Swans on Irondequoit Bay at night in August.

This was such a gorgeous, balmy evening with a blue moon, white swans, and music playing from one of the local bars across the street from the bay area. Who needs to go on vacation with this kind of scenery a short drive from home! 

I'm getting to be like Randy, whose Daily Photo Project blog is featured to the right under "My Favorite Blogs". He takes his camera everywhere; I now take my camera everywhere.


There've been several instances when I wished I had my camera with me because I've missed a lot of great photo opportunities, which really infuriated me. My camera is now part of my ensemble. Thanks for the inspiration, Randy, and keeping my blood pressure under control.

Hope all of you enjoy the pics of beautiful upstate New York. This is a great time of year to be here.

Class of '61: 50th Class Reunion

Kathy, Bonnie, Pam, & Carol '61

This weekend was our 50th class reunion for the first graduating class of Eastridge High School. Yes, it was for the weekend; Friday and Saturday. Just remember the class of '61 does it for the whole weekend, not just one night.

It was a blast seeing my old high school chums. A few reminded me of all the nonsensical things we did when we were teens, most of which I was originally happy to forget; like the time I blew a whole in the ceiling during chemistry class, in our brand new school, because I mixed the wrong chemicals together. The hallways smelled like rotten eggs for months.

The most notable memory was the Section V Basketball Championship Eastridge won in 1961. There was one minute left in the game and Eastridge was one point behind. We all figured we had lost the game by one stinkin' point. Then out of nowhere, with five seconds remaining in the game and nothing to lose, Kenny Oberg lobbed a long ball from the opposite end of the court that went SWISH; the magical sound that signaled our big win. It was one of those spectacular moments we'll never forget.

Our class was unusual because we had no upper class men/women to follow. Why? Because construction was started on the new high school in 1958. There were only enough classrooms to accommodate a freshman class the first year. Additional classrooms were added each year to make room for the students coming in behind us. That's how our class became upper class men/women and subsequently the first graduating class. I guess you could say we were always seniors. As a result of  this, we were a tight knit class with 270 plus graduating in 1961.

Now the 18 year old senior class of  '61 has turned into 68 year old seniors from the school of hard knocks. The best part of all is we don't act like 68 year old seniors. Most of us don't even look like senior citizens. The rest of us don't give a horse pucky. That's what's nice about getting old; it's a great equailzer.

This is one of those events when we all became weekend teenagers and nobody cared. There were no curfews and no nagging parents. Collectively we turned the clock back and became 18 again, revisiting another era. Remember the Nixon-Kennedy debates and the song Blue Moon? If not, that's okay. Now you can Google the debates or listen to Blue Moon while reading this blog post.

It felt good to get back to my own roots. Roots I have somehow neglected to water and nourish regularly over the years. Moving, marriage, children, grandchildren, divorce, remarriage, death of loved ones, and busy schedules have all compromsied my root system. So, yeah, it was good to go back. It's been 50 years since I've seen most of my old high school friends, but we picked up right where we left off; with a strong support system I know is still there.

I love you, class of '61. Thanks for a fun weekend full of great memories. My roots are now nourished.

Happy 19th Birthday, Ivey



Happy 19th Birthday, Ivey!

When you see Ivey Knight today wish her a happy birthday.

In addition to being the Horse Pucky Queen, I'm also known as "Grammy" to three very beautiful grandchildren, of whom I am very proud. Today is a special day for the oldest grandchild, Ivey. It's her 19th birthday.

Like all grandparents, I can't believe where the time went. Are you really 19, Ivey? You have worked very hard to achieve success in school and in your work environment. It's with the utmost confidence in you that I say, it's time to spread your wings and fly and become the very best you can be. Your family has great faith in you.

Your birthday bash was wonderful last night with great food, enjoyable company, and a chance to connect with all that is profoundly important...family and good friends.

I wish you a day full of joy and beauty as you celebrate the gift of life. Have a super 19th birthday, my dear Ivey. I love you. ~Grammy aka The Horse Pucky Queen 

Horse Pucky Advice: To Ask or Not To Ask

Dear Horse Pucky,

My wife and I were going on a weekend trip around the NY State Finger Lakes region and realized the GPS was lost. We decided to wing-it as far as finding our way to various tourist spots and even some out ot the way places that were suggested to us by friends. Big mistake.

We started out fine, but ended up getting into one argument after another. I swear, the Mrs. has no sense of direction at all. She was my navigator and couldn't tell the difference between north, south, east, or west. So we got lost, I mean really lost. I wanted to stop and ask for directions at the local gas station and she said, "No, this is a real adventure."  

It was an adventure all right. It was a challenging experience to see how long our bladders would hold out and our stomaches could go empty. What would you have done? Asked for directions or not?

~Full Bladder with Empty Stomach

Dear FB,

Why didn't you stop at a gas station, use the rest room, then get a map ? Why did you make "The Mrs." your navigator if she has no sense of direction?

Just to let you know, I get really cranky if I don't eat, so I can identify with you.  On the other hand, I also like a sense of adventure, so I empathize with your wife. In either case, next time do a little planning, stop the arguing, and enjoy the day. Bloom where you are planted.

~Horse Pucky

Ahhh - Tranquility



Irondequoit Bay outlet feeds into Lake Ontario.  Irondequoit is the Seneca Indian word that means where the waters meet.

There's a secret cove where I go when I need some r & r. It's a beautiful place full of peace and tranquility except for an occassional boat or a single jet ski slowly making its way through the outlet out to the lake, but that's about it. Most of the time I'm joined by a family of ducks, a pair of swans, or a committee of seagulls.

Today the ducks joined me, but only for a short while. Mama duck was totally focused on teaching her offspring how to maneuver the series of  billows made by the offshore breeze. I watched, with amusement, the little feathered puff balls bobbing up and down in the water, like small children on a roller coaster ride for the first time.

It felt so good to take a break from all the running around I do, and the sadness of Bear being gone, and just allowing myself time alone with the beauty of nature and all it has to offer. Believe it or not, I haven't even felt like going out to the barn; I didn't feel like dealing with anything or anyone this week. Horse pucky just wasn't in the cards, both metaphorically speaking and literally.

Time to myself made me realize how much I appreciate living in such a beautiful area. Today I really savored it. Thank you, God.

Horse Pucky Advice: Black or Not

Dear Horse Pucky,

I'm going to a wedding next weekend and I have a cute little black dress I want to wear. All my friends are telling me that black is inappropriate to wear at a wedding especially in the summer time. I really don't feel like spending the money on a new dress, and I look great in black. What do you think?

~Sweet Sue from Kalamazoo

Dear Sue,

Wear the black dress and tell your friends to buzz off. Black is perfectly appropriate for weddings and funerals. You're covered no matter where you go; from the beginning to the end. I laud your practicality and good sense.

~Horse Pucky

I Won!

one angle of garden

Newport Highlands, the 200 unit  townhouse community I live in, had a garden contest this year. I won the contest. It's kind of a hollow victory in lieu of my recent loss, but it's a bright spot in my heart where the flowers bloom and the sun shines in memory of Bear.

My feline pal was always right beside me chasing leaves, digging in the dirt, "helping" me plant flowers, and sniffing the horse pucky. He was the best.

Back to the contest. I won for two main reasons; #1: I had about 200 pounds of horse pucky mulched into the soil and I watered twice a day. The plants loved it. #2: It's not that my garden is so great, it's that everyone else's either dried out due to lack of rain in these parts and they gave up, or they didn't have Bear helping them, or both.

Anyway, I won a $100 gift certificate to Wegmans. When I found out I had won, I was going to run out and get Bear more treats. Instead, I plan on fixing a buffet lunch for our wonderfully supportive maintenance and office staff on Monday in memory of Bear. Life is good.

Sweet Dreams Dear Friend

BEAR

This is the most painful blog post I've ever written, but it has to be done. As a trained grief facilitator, I know it's good therapy. And I need hugs from all of you out there. 

Normally, Bear would be helping me with this post by padding across the computer keys ZZZZZZZZZZZVv11!!!!!!, but he isn't here. He had to be euthanized yesterday. It was so sudden, and such a shock, I can't get my head around it.

Bear was sitting on the front porch with me at 5:30 a.m. for our routine early morning coffee, cat treat "chat". Then I let him back in the house where it was cool and went to the barn. When I returned from the barn, he greeted me at the door as always. I picked him up, gave him his customary cat hug, put him down, then let him outside and left the back door open so he could come in when he got too warm.  When he came back in he "chirped" his usual cheery "hello", then went upstairs to lay on the cool tile in the bathroom. Nothing unusual so far.

Within five minutes I heard a painful meow. I went into my office where he was trying to get comfortable and noticed him breathing heavy with severe panting and inability to use his back legs. I immediately called the vet. They said to bring him right in.

When Dr.Brattom checked Bear's hind legs, Bear had no pulse in either of his back legs and no pink color at the base of his toe nails. One of his back toe nails was purposely cut short to see if it would bleed. There was no blood and absolutely no blood supply to Bear's hind end. He was suffering from cardiomyopathy and getting worse with labored breathing, drooling, and obvious pain. Dr. B looked at me and said, "Pam, I know this is emotionallhy traumatic for you, but it's his time. You don't want him to suffer."

There really was no decision at that point. Before the syringe with the pink liquid was administered Bear looked up at me, in obvious pain, as if to say thank you for this last great act of love. I told the little guy I loved him, and kissed the top of his head. He seemed both resigned and relaxed as he cradled his head in my arm while the vet injected the pink serum into his forearm. Bear's heart stopped beating immediately. It was a relief to see him free from pain and not gasping for every breath. That's the good part. The bad part is Bear isn't here anymore.

I'm sobbing my heart out as I write this post. I have a hole in my heart the size of the Grand Canyon. He was/is a very special cat. He slept on my bed every night, woke me up every morning, and had coffee "chat" with me on the front porch every day for 11 years. He was my best pal. I can't imagine life without him.

 It all happened so fast. He looked great, was playful, and perfectly fine, then within two hours, he was gone. That's cardiomyopathy. It's a  silent killer. Everything appears to be perfectly normal then bammo; it's over.

I feel a smidge better now. Writing is good therapy. Thanks for reading.

Remember, life is fragile. Love one another, hug one another, and know that I love all of you. Oh yes, please say a little prayer to remember Bear and say one for me so I can get through this devasting loss.

Sweet dreams my dear little Bear.

Fried Eggs on Asphalt

Before

After

Scorching is the word for the day. It's 95 degrees in the shade. It's so hot in Rochester, NY today, you can fry an egg on the asphalt.

Hey, ya know what? I think I'll go outside and try that fried egg thing and see what happens. I've been hearing "It's-so-hot-you-can-fry-an-egg-on-asphalt" for years now. I'm gonna go outside and see if it really works. Be right back.

Guess what? It doesn't work. I cracked an egg on the hot asphalt, then went to weed and water the garden for 30 minutes. When I came back to look at the egg, all it did is run into the cracks in the driveway with no evidence of frying anywhere, even though the air temp is 96 degrees.

There are a couple of facts here. First of all I won't be getting the Nobel Prize for best science experiment this year. Second don't believe everything your grandmother tells you about hot summers and being able to fry eggs on asphalt. It's a lot of horse pucky.

To make matters worse, I used up my last egg for that numb skull experiment; now I can't make banana bread tonight. Oh yeah, and I had to clean the driveway.

Horse Pucky Advice: What do I say?

Dear Horse Pucky,

I was invited to an acquaintance's house for dinner, for the first time. When the food was served, I didn't care for the entree. Should I have been gracious and eaten it anyway or told the hostess I don't like squid even though I've never tried it before? I ended up feeding it to the family cat, under the dining room table when no one was looking. ~Don't Like Squid

Dear DLS,

I tried squid once and it tasted like rubber bands. It probably wasn't prepared correctly.

In your case, there are a couple of "firsts" here; first time at a new acquaintance's house, and first time for squid. I would have tried a very small portion of the entree. If you've never had it before, and your hostess cooked it properly, it may have been delicious and you would have added a new taste sensation to your repertoire.

If, on the other hand, the squid reminded you of the strings on an old banjo, I'd be honest with your hostess and tell her you just don't care for squid, but the rest of the meal is delicious. You certainly don't want her to fix squid again for you. You don't want to hurt her feelings either.

As for the cat; if the little fur ball likes squid, regardless of the texture, you may be on to a different kind of cat food flavor. Try calling Purina.  ~Horse Pucky

My New Office Manager



Bear, Office Manager

Bear just got promoted to Office Manger. He types (zzzzzzzzzzzzzxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxf), talks to clients (meow), and is an inspiration for those who come to the office.

If you look closely, he just finished reading the local paper. I caught him checking out the want-ads, so I decided to promote him to Office Manager in order to give him more of a challenge.

His benefit package includes more treats, with ample time for a nap. After his nap, he has a chance to work outside catching rodents. Then it's back inside for more schmoozing with clients and padding across the computer. 

I have to tell ya', it's tough keeping good employees if you don't give them the benefits they deserve.  

Limericks

I love *limericks. A friend of mine sent this one to me this morning. I just can't help myself, so I'm gonna' share this with all of you. All I can say is, I wish I wrote it 'cause I think it's really funny. 

There once was a pervert named Weiner,
Who had a perverted demeanor,
Forced from the hill
for acting like Bill,
Now Congress is one Weiner leaner.

HA!

I know what you're all probably thinking; enough of the Weiner jokes already.

*For those of you who are more literary types I've provided an FYI: Limerick is an Irish word that dates back to 1896. The definition of a limerick according to Webster's Collegiate Dictionary: a light or humorous verse form of 5 chiefly anapestic (metrical) verses of which lines 1,2, and 5 are of 3 feet (metrical), and lines 3 and 4 are of 2 feet (metrical) wth a rhyme scheme of aabba.

Suggestion: Try your hand at writing a limerick on any topic. I can't wait to see what you all come up with.

Three Bears and a Blond

Once upon a time there were three bears and a blond. Or was it three blonds and a bear. Maybe it was three bare blonds. I can't remember. Anyway, it's no wonder my generation grew up a bit off center. It's tough keeping all those fairy tales, kiddie stories, and adult novels straight.

Think about what would happen if we mixed it up a bit, incorporating the old with the new.  Hm-m-m, now lets see...

Once upon a time there were three bare blonds who decided to go frolicking through the woods to grandma's house in search of Prince Charming. Lo and behold Prince Charming who divorced Cinderella, Prince Charming who divorced Snow White and Prince Charming who divorced Liz Taylor were all looking for three bare blonds. What a perfect set-up! Or so one would think.

When they all discovered one another, they realized it was lust at first sight. The six of them danced the night away and then went, separately, on their merry way. All three Princes rode off on their horses to play polo, while the three bare blonds proceeded to grandma's place. However, when they got there, there were three wolves waiting for them.

Grandma fixed everyone homemade spaghetti and meatballs and a tossed salad for dinner. The three wolves and the three bare blonds fell in love with each another, and they all lived happily ever after.

Moral of story: Sometimes a wolf who likes spaghetti and meatballs is a better catch than a Prince who likes to horse around.

There you have it; a fractured fairy tale from the Horse Pucky Queen.

Horse Pucky Advice: Cat's Favorite

Dear Horse Pucky,

Our family cat likes my wife better than me. Why is that? ~Cat Lover Too

Dear CL Too,

Maybe it's your after shave, the tone of your voice, or how you treat your wife. Give the cat some cat treats, then take your wife out for a romantic dinner for two. Be sure you don't get the two mixed up.

If you really want to impress the Mrs., plant a rose bush. Dig two feet deep, add some horse pucky, then put in the rose bush, cover with topsoil, and water. She'll love it.

The cat may decide to like you better, 'cause that's how cats are. ~ Horse Pucky

Enjoy the day!  ~The Horse Pucky Queen

Horse Pucky Advice: In-laws and Limburger Cheese

Dear Horse Pucky,

Usually I love summer, but my in-laws are visiting for two months and I'm dreading it. How do I deal with this? ~Disgruntled Daughter-in-law

Dear DD,

You can serve them Limburger cheese with Brussels sprouts for dinner. OR leave town and stay with YOUR family for two months. OR put fresh horse pucky in your garden, which is usually a guarantee your in-laws won't stick around for long. ~Horse Pucky

Have a great day, y'all. ~The Horse Pucky Queen

Popular Request

There have been several requests for a Horse Pucky Advice Column. There's no way I'm gonna pass up that opportunity. Click on the appropriate tab above for some not-so-kosher suggestions on how to live life to the fullest.

Under the picture of Horse Pucky, are tabs marked "Home", "Horse Pucky Tee Shirts" and "Horse Pucky Advice Column". You may click on any of those tabs to find the content that fits the title. Then click on "Home" to come back to the main Horse Pucky page.

For those of you who need more assistance, here's the bottom line; when you click on follwing tabs this is what you'll get:

"Home" = main Horse Pucky page.
"Horse Pucky Tee Shirts" = Order a T-shirt or just browse for the fun of it.
"Horse  Pucky Advice" = Cheap psychotherapy.

FYI: The Horse Pucky tee shirts are the latest rage in Rochester.

For recommendations that are full of horse pucky, be sure to click on the above "Horse Pucky Advice" tab.

Have a great day, y'all.

~The Horse Pucky Queen

Change the Paradigm

It's no great news that our education system is older than dirt. It's time we change the paradigm. We need a model of education that taps into a child's true interests. We need to encourage them to pursue those interests rather than march them through a system that teaches them to regurgitate correct answers to  questions on a standardized test that no one gives a hoot about anyway. It's educational horse pucky.

Let's challenge these students to address the current environment in which they live so they can do something about it. Instead of thinking linearly, we need to encourage them to come up with more than one answer to questions asked. There is always more than one way to do a job, solve a problem, develop an idea, and create a plan. Get going by changing the paradigm. Give children the opportunity to grow into the brilliant stars they are meant to be.

A Real Groaner

Jon told me yesterday that A. Weiner, Representative for NYC's 9th district and the brunt of the latest sexting scandal, got a job at Oscar Mayer. See what I have to deal with!

Sounds like someone is full of horse pucky.

There Must Be Something In The Air

There must be something in the air, in New York State, that makes people do stupid, crazy things.

Without sounding too hokey, Congressman Anthony Weiner is a real wiener who can't keep his weenie where it belongs. He's part of a new trend of politicians who seem to think that exposing themselves on their blackberries to unsuspecting females is cute or funny or a turn-on. What a bunch of numb nuts.

First there was our Democratic Party governor, Eliot Spitzer, who, in March of 2008, was patronizing a prostitution service called Emperors Club VIP. Next came Chris Lee, Republican Party U.S. Representative who texted himself half naked to an unknown female on Craigslist. Now we have A. Weiner (how appropriate), who sent pictures of himself in his underwear to various women.

So far we have two New York Democrats, and one Republican who think they're hot stuff. There are probably lots more who haven't  been caught yet.

I think we, as responsible voters, should take our elected politicians' taxpayer-funded blackberries away. Then we need to clean up whatever pollutants are in the air that are making our elected officials act like teenage boys on a bad testosterone trip.

C'mon guys! You're all thinking with the wrong head.

Chuckens

I think I've lost it. It's been two days since I've had any sleep. Bear cat went to the veterinary emergency clinic over the weekend, and my Mom was admitted into the hospital yesterday. Where am I going with all this...I don't know, except that I just had a thought I'd like to share with you. I was thinking if you crossed a chuck roast with a chicken you'd have chuckens. It's pretty pathetic isn't it? This is how I think with no sleep. 

Bear's doing better. We're waiting to see how Mom does. I think I'll take a cat nap.

Purses vs. Wallets or Venus vs. Mars or Women vs. Men

Jon was commenting on how heavy my purse is. Then he said, "How come men can carry a wallet and have everything they need tucked away in their back pocket, while you women need a huge purse where you can never really find anything anyway, then spend tons of time looking for your wallet to pay for whatever it is you have to pay for?" I very simply said, "I use my purse as a weapon when I'm not fishing out tissue packs for your runny nose, cough drops for your scratchy throat, or my eyeglasses to better see your handsome face."

At this point, the conversation ended quite abruptly as Jon's eyes glazed over. I'm not sure if I got him on the purse-as-a-weapon part of our conversation or the handsome face part. All I can tell you is, my heavy purse has never been mentioned again.

Sexting, Boinking, and Craigslist

What's with all these sport stars, celebrities, and elected officials?! Do they really think they're above the "code of the west", otherwise known as morality, integrity, chivalry, and honesty?

We've got Brett Favre who texted a photo of his penis to Jenn Stenger, the New York Jets game day hostess who never even met the guy. Then there's Arnold Schwarzenegger who boinked the household maid, and Christopher Lee, our own NY State elected official, who sent a topless photo of himself to some girl on craigslist using his own name rather than a fake name. All are married with a family. All are dumber than a box of rocks.

C'mon guys. What in the name of Mother Goose were you thinking?

Hey, Brett, just because you're secretly still a Packer, doesn't mean you have to take your frustration out on the NY Jets game day hostess.

And Arnie, I mean really; the maid?! Maria got you into the governor's mansion and she's beautiful. I guess your new moniker, The Sperminator is certainly accurate.

Chris Lee, I'm not sure if you're stupid or dumber than a brick. You were a Congressman, so I'll go with the brick.

Anyway, horse pucky fans, that's my take on the whole sordid mess. If you guys can't keep your pickle in your pocket, at least keep your feet dry.

A Great Idea!

Hey, I have a great idea! How about doing away with the Federal government altogether. Think of the money we'd save in salaries, retirement benefits, and all the horse pucky that goes along with it. There will be no more exorbitant campaign spending because of lengthy campaigns. We'd do away with the  continued rhetorical circumlocution otherwise known as crap. Decisions about defending our country can be determined by all of the governors in each of our states. 

We'll continue to be legally overseen by our individual state governors and a handful of the brightest state officials, who have to be reviewed by a board of responsible taxpayers before they can even run for office. We can then continue to do away with half of the politicians who run our states. Again, think of all the money and time we'd save. Maybe we can actually get some work done for the good of the people who reside in each state without taxing them to death. 

I'm all for the abolition of the U.S. Federal government. Bye-bye, sayonara, hasta la vista, tschus, and toodle-oo.

I'm giving a thumbs up for a pro-active state government.

More Political Horse Pucky

Charlie Reese, a retired reporter for the Orlando Sentinel, has defined clearly who it is that in the final analysis must assume responsibility for the judgments made that impact each one of us every day. It's a short but good read. Worth the time. Worth remembering!

545 vs. 300,000,000 People
-By Charlie Reese

Politicians are the only people in the world who create problems and then campaign against them.

Have you ever wondered, if both the Democrats and the Republicans are against deficits, WHY do we have deficits?

Have you ever wondered, if all the politicians are against inflation and high taxes, WHY do we have inflation and high taxes?

You and I don't propose a federal budget. The President does.

You and I don't have the Constitutional authority to vote on appropriations. The House of Representatives does.

You and I don't write the tax code, Congress does.

You and I don't set fiscal policy, Congress does.

You and I don't control monetary policy, the Federal Reserve Bank does.

One hundred senators, 435 congressmen, one President, and nine Supreme Court justices equates to 545 human beings out of the 300 million are directly, legally, morally, and individually responsible for the domestic problems that plague this country.

I excluded the members of the Federal Reserve Board because that problem was created by the Congress. In 1913, Congress delegated its Constitutional duty to provide a sound currency to a federally chartered, but private, central bank.

I excluded all the special interests and lobbyists for a sound reason. They have no legal authority. They have no ability to coerce a senator, a congressman, or a President to do one cotton-picking thing. I don't care if they offer a politician $1 million dollars in cash.
The politician has the power to accept or reject it. No matter what the lobbyist promises, it is the legislator's responsibility to determine how he votes.

Those 545 human beings spend much of their energy convincing you that what they did is not their fault. They cooperate in this common con regardless of party.

What separates a politician from a normal human being is an excessive amount of gall. No normal human being would have the gall of a Speaker, who stood up and criticized the President for creating deficits. The President can only propose a budget. He cannot force the Congress to accept it.

The Constitution, which is the supreme law of the land, gives sole responsibility to the House of Representatives for originating and approving appropriations and taxes. Who is the speaker of the House? John Boehner. He is the leader of the majority party. He and fellow House members, not the President, can approve any budget they want. If the President vetoes it, they can pass it over his veto if they agree to.

It seems inconceivable to me that a nation of 300 million cannot replace 545 people who stand convicted -- by present facts -- of incompetence and irresponsibility. I can't think of a single domestic problem that is not traceable directly to those 545 people. When you fully grasp the plain truth that 545 people exercise the power of the federal government, then it must follow that what exists is what they want to exist.

If the tax code is unfair, it's because they want it unfair.

If the budget is in the red, it's because they want it in the red.

If the Army & Marines are in Iraq and Afghanistan it's because they want them in Iraq and Afghanistan ....

If they do not receive social security but are on an elite retirement plan not available to the people, it's because they want it that way.

There are no insoluble government problems.

Do not let these 545 people shift the blame to bureaucrats, whom they hire and whose jobs they can abolish; to lobbyists, whose gifts and advice they can reject; to regulators, to whom they give the power to regulate and from whom they can take this power. Above all, do not let them con you into the belief that there exists disembodied mystical forces like "the economy," "inflation," or "politics" that prevent them from doing what they take an oath to do.

Those 545 people, and they alone, are responsible.

They, and they alone, have the power.

They, and they alone, should be held accountable by the people who are their bosses.

Provided the voters have the gumption to manage their own employees...

We should vote all of them out of office and clean up their mess!

Charlie Reese is a former columnist of the Orlando Sentinel Newspaper.

What you do with this article now that you have read it... is up to you.
This might be funny if it weren't so true.
Be sure to read all the way to the end:

Tax his land,
Tax his bed,
Tax the table,
At which he's fed.

Tax his tractor,
Tax his mule,
Teach him taxes
Are the rule.

Tax his work,
Tax his pay,
He works for
peanuts anyway!

Tax his cow,
Tax his goat,
Tax his pants,
Tax his coat.

Tax his ties,
Tax his shirt,
Tax his work,
Tax his dirt.

Tax his tobacco,
Tax his drink,
Tax him if he
Tries to think.

Tax his cigars,
Tax his beers,
If he cries
Tax his tears.

Tax his car,
Tax his gas,
Find other ways
To tax his ass.

Tax all he has
Then let him know
That you won't be done
Till he has no dough.

When he screams and hollers;
Then tax him some more,
Tax him till
He's good and sore.

Then tax his coffin,
Tax his grave,
Tax the sod in
Which he's laid...

Put these words
Upon his tomb,
'Taxes drove me
to my doom...'

When he's gone,
Do not relax,
Its time to apply
The inheritance tax.

Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
CDL license Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Excise Taxes
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel Permit Tax
Gasoline Tax (currently 44.75 cents per gallon)
Gross Receipts Tax
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Inventory Tax
IRS Interest Charges IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Personal Property Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Service Charge Tax
Social Security Tax
Road Usage Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
Sales Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone Federal Excise Tax
Telephone Federal Universal Service Fee Tax
Telephone Federal, State and Local Surcharge Taxes
Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge Tax
Telephone Recurring and Nonrecurring Charges Tax
Telephone State and Local Tax
Telephone Usage Charge Tax
Utility Taxes
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft Registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax


STILL THINK THIS IS FUNNY?
Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago, & our nation was the most prosperous in the world.
We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest middle class in the world, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.

What in the heck happened? Can you spell 'politicians?'

I hope this goes around THE USA at least 545 times!!! YOU can help it get there!!!

Happy Mothers Day

Durand Eastman Park                  Rochester, NY

Happy Mothers Day to all of you who are always there for others. 

You care for, nuture, support and inspire. You are grandmothers, mothers, daughters, "Mr. Moms", aunts, cousins, and  best friends.

You know who you are. You're the best!

 I LOVE YOU.

~Pam aka The Horse Pucky Queen

End the Cycle of Violence

I can't handle this violence anymore. It's a sad state of affairs when we are triumphant over the death of another human being. What have we all become?

It's time to take responsibility for our own history and our own actions before we point fingers at the rest of the world. There has been way too much collateral damage in the form of innocent civilians being killed.

The U.S. military isn't being used to defend the rights and lives of civilian populations in other countries. It's being used to protect our own ideological and economic agendas in the form of capitalism and oil company investments. 

Here are a few examples of the gee-we're-such-good-guys here in the U.S. 

1890: US troops marched into South Dakota and massacred 300 Lakota Indians at Wounded Knee.

1910: US Navy seized the Phillipines from Spain killing 600,000 Filipinos.

Let's jump ahead.

1998: Four days of intensive air strikes in Iraq after weapons inspectors allege Iraqi obstructions.

2011: NATO coordinates air strikes and missle attacks against Qaddafi government during uprising by rebel army.

All this violence has depleted our economic infrastructure. We've become both intolerant of and insensitive to other people's religions, ethnicity, and even the way they dress.

What was a very chilling revelation to me over the weekend, was a comment a young teenage boy made to me, "I probably wouldn't like your grandson because he dresses different than me and wears his hair long." Where did that come from?! I was so stunned by his remark, I was speechless.

I can't wait until this Saturday; it's Kentucky Derby Day. At least the horses will give us a good reason to believe and hope for our next great hero. We could sure use one. As far as Im concerned, the rest of the world can eat horse pucky. Oh, I almost forgot, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY.

Case of the Disappearing Cat

Bear Tail or Bear Tale

Bear had an appointment with Dr. Bratton at 8:45 this morning. Today was the day for his annual wellness exam and rabies shot.

Normally, my feline pal is ready to bolt out the door long before 8:45, but not this morning. He was nowhere to be found, even when I called to him and shook a bag of treats. It's amazing how cats know when it's time to go to the veterinarian. I swear I never tell him.

When I went into the basement to retrieve his cat carrier, Bear briefly reappeard at the top of the stairs, with a, my-suspicion-was-confirmed, look on his face. It took another five minutes to find the guy. He was trying to hide under the sheets. As intuitive as he is, he's not always that great at hiding. His tail usually gives him away.

Trying to extricate a 15 pound cat from a bedsheet is worse than trying to lead two 1300 pound thoroughbred mares back to the barn, through a thunder and lightening storm. The bedsheet got tangled up and knotted between Bear and me, with black cat fur flying in at least 100 directions. When I finally got a secure hold of him sans the sheet, I attempted to put him in his cat carrier. I'm not kidding when I tell you he became the 15 pound cat from hell, attaching himself to the top of the carrier with his scimitar-like claws. The cat carrier was supposed to be housing him, instead Bear was carrying the carrier. More fur.

Needless to say, we were late to the vet's office. I came in covered with black cat hair. A cute, white Scottie terrier, also there for spring shots, cowered in the corner because he was terrified of this large growling cat carrying its own cat carrier. 

One really good thing, Bear is always good for the vet. Dr. Bratton gave him a clean bill of health with a "See ya next year, Bear."

Bear liked driving back home in the truck, IN his cat carrier, with the seat belt around the carrier. Currently he's napping, the rabies shot knocked him for a loop. I may be taking a 20-minute happy nap later this afternoon, myself.

Flamingo Girl

As I said in a previous blog, I get inspiration from you wild and wooly Horse Pucky readers. In this case, it's a loveable Floridian who claims I'm a "tacky-flamingo girl", which is  based on a comment I made on one of his blog posts.

I hate to admit this, but I LOVE those tacky, pink flamingo statues. "How could you," you ask, as you roll your eyes in disbelief? Because I think they're hilarious. Every time I see one, I laugh. They're especially funny when they come in groups of 50.

Cohorts of mine strategically placed 50 pink flamingo statues in a neighbor's yard to celebrate their friend's 50th wedding anniversary. What a comically clever and whimsically wacky idea!

For those of you who are into these delightful, amusing "birds", you can also purchase a 17" high neon flamingo. Think of all the fun you'll have, especially if the neon "bird" flashes its feathers on and off. 

Now I know what to get my friends and family for their birthdays. By the way, when is everyone's birthday?

Lern How 2 Rite Good

Riting Writing good well creatively effectively (the hell with it) is hard difficult.  Its It's an art form. Peeple People hoo who write rite write understand watt I'm saying. Thare are sum daze when I cant come up with a singel idea, such as this evenings blog poste post.

The moral of this minee lesson: Lern how 2 rite good. U may becum a famus riter sumday Sunday sumday. And that aint no horse pucky.

Potty Mouth and the IRS

One of the worst careers in the world, for me, would be to become an accountant. Just ask Jon. He'll tell ya'. I was working on my income tax on Friday and decided to call him to vent about the IRS. I used  every profanity known to mankind.

The Federal tax forms weren't too bad. It was those @#%* New York State forms that sent me into a mental state of major meltdown. There is no personal exemption this year, no break for senior citizens, and just no way I could get around paying the bastards in Albany.

To add injury to insult, our NYS judges just received a $10,000 stipend added to their six figure incomes. Part of that $10K goes toward the purchase of judicial robes to the tune of $400 each. All I can say is, there must be mighty large, deep pockets sewn into those robes.

Next year, I'm going to have an accountant do my taxes early. Jon insists on it. He was shocked to learn some new swear words he's never heard of before; especially from his "sweet, little, lotus blossom". AND he was in the Army.

 As far as accountants are concerned, I'm going to send each one I know a sympathy card. The cretins in Albany, aka NY politicians, are getting a bag of horse pucky as soon as I get my passport updated.

Thanks for the Inspiration

It's about time I thanked all of you who follow Horse Pucky and especially those of you who take the time to comment on my blog posts. You give me mucho  inspiration, Your comments are funnier than the Horse Pucky posts. They make my day and give me incentive to write more frequently.

Be sure to follow some of my favorite blogs listed in the column, to the right of these posts. There are some very talented people out there, from all walks of life, who have become an online family for me.

I just want to say: YOU'RE APPRECIATED. Consider yourselves hugged and thanks for the inspiration.

A Bear in the Driveway

I hit a bear in our driveway. The next thing I did was call my auto insurance company to file an accident report. A very pleasant young lady answered the phone and asked what type of vehicular accident I had.

"I hit a bear in our driveway", I exclaimed! "Omigosh", she said! "I didn't know there were any bears in your area." It was at this point when I realized, she thought I hit a real bear.  'H-m -m-m,' I mused, 'I can have a lot of fun with this one.'

"Are you okay", she asked? "Yeah, I'm okay, and the bear is still standing, but my brand new pick up truck is in really bad shape." The young lady asked, "Is it safe to send out a claims adjuster. I mean with bears and all in your area?" "Sure," I said. "Just make sure s/he brings along a very large sack, a tranquilizer gun, and a can of tuna." "TUNA?!" "Yeah, it's Friday, and bears eat tuna on Friday, during Lent."

By this time, I had the poor girl, who was only trying to do her job, all flustered and nervous about the possibility of the claims adjuster being mauled by a slightly wounded, disgruntled bear. So, I told her the truth. "I hit a carved bear in our driveway. It came with the house when we purchased it. I got my three month old pick up truck wedged between the stone wall that lines the driveway and the wooden bear. In order to cause the least amount of damage to the truck, I had to gun it forward to dislodge it from between a literal rock and a hard place." "Whew," she said with relief. "I'm glad it wasn't a real bear."

The wooden bear was fine; a carving from a 100 year old maple tree. My pick up truck wasn't. There was $3600 worth of dents, scrapes, and scratches to my recently purchased Chevy Silverado. The damages were totally covered by my insurance company with one stipulation. The claims adjuster said, "You WILL remove that bear from the driveway asap...RIGHT?!" "You bet," I enthusiastically responded!

The truck was restored to brand new. (In fact, I still have it.) We moved the bear to the side yard and called the place Bear Hollow Farm, where Mr. Bear got decorated for all the holidays and eventually went back to the original owners when we sold the farm.

And we all lived happily ever after. Except for the poor girl who is still confused by the bear accident.

There Goes My Eyeball Into My Highball

My left eye lens, along with the cataracts, was sucked into a tube and replaced with a brand spankin-new, slightly rounded clear lens. This week was part 2 of my cataract surgery with part 1 being two weeks ago. I see great, but I'm in a heap of trouble. In the pre-op area, after the initial eye-numbing procedure, I was singing, "Cataracts, I done got cataracts. There goes my eyeball into my highball."  That was before surgery. After surgery it got worse.

The anesthesia they gave me was a non-narcotic that makes you forget what happened. When I went to the doctors ofice the next morning for a post-op check up, everyone in the office was laughing. They asked me if I remembered anything. "Sure", I said. "I actually watched the surgical nurse swab out my left eye with betadine solution." "What else do you remember" they smirked? "Ah...nothing else", I said with trepidation.
That's when I was told that I proposed to the doctor, proposed to the anesthesiologist, made fart noises when the nurse bent over, and kept singing 'there goes my eyeball into my highball' to the tune of "Jeapardy", which was a tune my grandparents listened to frequently when I was a young'un.

To make matters worse, an elderly lady in the curtained cubicle next to me was laughing so hard she got chest pains. The surgical team thought she was having an angina attack and sent her home. She had to reschedule her cataract surgery for a later day.

It's no horse pucky when I tell you, it's the first time the surgical staff (both pre-op and post-op) considered kicking someone out of the surgical center. 

Geezer Words

Do you recollect the word dungarees? If you're a baby boomer, like me, you'll remember. Today dungarees are called jeans. How about church keys? We used those to open pry-off caps on beverage bottles. I don't think they have pry-off caps anymore. The only thing I see at the stores are twist-off caps.

My 18-year-old granddaughter, Ivey, was momentarily baffled when I mentioned how much I like listening to old records on my 1968 stereo record player. "Oh yeah...cool", she said, "Now we've got CDs with CD players." Well, guess what, Miss Ivey, I have one of those too.

Instead of saying I have a pair of gym shoes, now I say, "Look, a new pair of Nikes!" (Or whatever brand you prefer.) I remember having a pair of high topped sneakers I wore to gym class. Now I have a pair of bright plaid high tops that Ivey helped me pick out. Some of those styles do come back.

Last, but not least, is the good old typewriter. Egads! I went through a lot of correcting tape and white out b.c. (before computers). It took me hours to write a paper in high school.

It's always fun having conversations with my grandchildren. We have loads of laughs comparing baby boomer geezer words with Generation Y words. Have a great day. Or is it "See ya"?