Americans Walking On Eggshells In Everything They Say Or Do

I saw this today and thought it looked like a pretty good representation of today’s world, at least in the USA.

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You can’t say what you really feel today without threat of cancel culture, and the media shames you if you don’t cowtow to the issue du jour of the social justice warriors, regardless of the idiocy of the demand. Take Henry Winkler, for example. People lost their freaking minds when he posted this a few days ago.

Somehow, in this twisted, brainwashed land where tolerance is demanded but yet everything is offensive, Winkler’s statement was perceived by some idiots as horrifying. Nature is horrifying? Fishing is horrifying? Some vilified him for “traumatizing the fish.” Do these same people vilify fishermen? Is it okay to fish if you’re not a professional fisherman? What are the rules these days? Where do people think FOOD comes from? What about Native Americans? Let’s cancel them. I’m pretty sure they spent all day hunting and fishing. God, what if your grandpa fished? Think about it. What if he didn’t catch and release like Fonzi? Then what? What if he ACTUALLY KILLED IT AND ATE IT? Murderer!

Guess what? You must pay for the sins of your fathers! Take your burnt offering to the wood nymphs and offer reparations for their deeds. Just think, your very lineage, your great-great grandparents who could have simply gone to the General Store and purchased couscous and tofu burgers, chose instead to learn a skill and go fish in nature, where humans have dominion over beasts.

We have a nation of snowflakes, poised to find offense at every turn, and he who screams and cries the loudest with the biggest toddler fit is rewarded by every media outlet in the system. America has lost its might, its reasoning skills, its spine, its balls. For God’s sake, let the man fish. It’s not like he smoked Parmesan cheese or sniffed children.

Oh, Henry, you warm, loving human being. God bless you for enjoying nature and sharing your enthusiasm. Bless you for not looting and rioting and burning cities down like so many others right now. God bless you for not sitting on your ass, collecting unemployment checks while restaurants fold because of lack of servers. God bless you for your smile and your kindness. Let the harsh words of the misinformed fools roll of your back. Fish, Henry. Fish your bippy off.

Basting Belle Of The Blast

Texas Highways

It’s April 1983, and Terri Garlitz is basting lamb during San Angelo’s annual Lamblast, while “Buffalo Hunters” look on. The event takes place at the Goodfellow Air Force Base on Lake Nasworthy, with its can’t-miss infamous leg of lamb contest, as well as games and beauty contests. The Cole Younger Band is coming down from Abilene to start the cookoff with a bang, so everyone, head out to the San Angelo Coliseum for both country and western dancing. Bring your aviators, fringed jackets, and cowboy hats. Yee-haw!

P.S. The Cole Younger Band currently has 14 monthly listeners on Spotify, so they’re evidently still kind of a big deal…

Ayds Keeps You Trim

Mona, that’s all well and good, but before you get to the weight loss secret, please explain why your child appears to be both barefoot and topless in a nationwide ad-VERR-tiz-mint. Surely a Hollywood A-lister such as yourself could spring for a blouse and sandals, unless you spent all your money on Ayds.

1954

Now, see here, we’d usually end this post at this point. But I fear you’ll go Googling Ms. Freeman, and you might wind up at WikiFeet by accident, as I did, a site for freaks who enjoy celebrity feet. So to spare you such heathenism, I’ll share this shot of Mona and Tony Curtis learning sign language on the set of the movie “Flesh and Fury,” wherein Curtis played a deaf-mute prizefighter.

Bend Bulletin

And here she is with Roy and Dale, wearing a belted gingham dress that shows off her Ayds waist.

In this shot, she and Jane Russell talk smack about the peons at Paramount.

And finally, a shot of her with leading man, William Holden, while filming “The Streets of Laredo,” incidentally also the name of a New Zealand folk band.

Oh, to be young and lithe!

Behr Releases Hottest New Color For Front Doors

Ever thought about painting your front door to add a little pop, a little pizzazz? Those folks at HGTV make it seem so easy, and red is often the color of choice. But could you handle something in fire engine red? One of our neighbors can. And did.

Testing new fire engines at Elmira, 1933, Finlay Photos by Clifton Adams

Maybe it’s not adding pizzazz as much as a desire for pizzas. After spending my college years in food service, I am well aware that red makes folks hungry. These signs can attest to that.

I’m already salivating! But why would you want to make your guests hungry? That just means you have to serve them. Does the color even have to mean anything? Evidently, it does.

The folks at Home Decor Bliss suggest that red has a welcoming energy, bringing luck, proclaiming protection, and even announcing that you’ve paid your last mortgage payment. Who knew that was a thing? Well, www.apartmenttherapy.com explains that while you may have heard that our friends in Scotland paint doors red to symbolize when they’re “out of the red,” it’s largely a myth. At that point, there’s no money left for a bucket of paint.

Not a fan of red doors? Well, you’re not alone. As the Rolling Stones once sang, “I see a red door, and I want it painted black.” Sounds controlling to me.

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1-2-3, 4-5-6, 7-8-9, 10-11-12 Ladybugs At The Ladybug Picnic

That’s a song I learned in the 70s as a child, watching Sesame Street. All the counting songs are forever imbedded in my brain, often hitting the needle at 3am as I awaken, and playing in my head as I do what middle-aged folks do at least twice each early morning.

Everybody likes ladybugs, no? They don’t sting. Their shape and color are pleasing, and they can eat thousands of insects in their lifetimes, so more power to them. Plus, they are polka dotted like a jaunty spring umbrella! This one seemed to enjoy our oak tree just fine. Sadly, the ice storm in February killed many of our trees, and this one was felled by a chainsaw last week, ne’er more to be walked upon by ladybug legs.