Sunday, February 28, 2010

Month of February Closes

Here it is, the last day of February. February is a strange and wonderful month of transition. The name "February" comes from the latin term "Februum" and it means "Purification."

It is said that the Romans peformed purification rituals on or about the 15th day of February. That being said, the Romans did not originally have February in their calender (or January for that matter) because it fell in the winter, and they considered winter to be a monthless period, whatever that means.

It is also interesting to note that February is the month chosen to have only twenty eight days. Of course, we all know this is because, when the gregorian calendar was invented, the math didn't work out so they just took a few days off of February to make it work.

It's funny that February has twenty nine days every leap-year. Here's another interesting, if not completely useless tidbit of information: Leap years fall on all years divisible by four (except 100 and 400).

Some notable days in February:

2 February - Groundhog day
14 February - Valentine's day

20 February - My anniversary of marriage, which, by the way, I missed this year because I got confused and thought we were only going to celebrate our other anniversary in May. Stupid me, I should have known that we always celebrate all of our anniversary days. Why two anniversaries? It's a long story and, by my first post, you must know that I don't like to write much. LOL

Third Monday - President's day

Here's one that most folks are not familiar with:

26 February - Kuwait Liberation Day. That's Ok folks, the Kuwaiti's don't seem to remember it either.

And, of course, The month of February is dedicated as Black History Month.
Hey, don't knock it folks, without Black History Month we would never know that the traffic light and the adjustable wrench were invented by Black Men. So for all you folks out there that think that Black folks are somehow lower on the evolutionary food chain than others, why didn't a White person, or Asian, Hispanic, or Native American invent the adjustable wrench? Think about that!

Some famous people born in February:

Bob Marley
Charles Lindberg
Dan Quayle - Oddly enough, Potato's are normally planted in this month.
George Harrison - you know, the Beatles?
Drew Barrymore
James Joyce
Charles Darwin - credited for the theory of evolution but, oddly, he didn't believe in evolution as we think of it now.
Michael Bloomberg - that rich guy who owns a network and is mayor of New York City.

Oh yeah. Paris Hilton was also born in February, but she's not even really there if she stands sideways, so I didn't include her in the list above.

And now, this will be my last post for the Month of February. Come to think of it, Shouldn't I have done this post for the Month of March?

P.S. Why yes. Paris does have her hand in her bikini bottoms.
My guess? It's probably a little itchy down there.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

The Ongoing Ballad of Daleville Dan

I've got a cat problem. Somehow, through some strange power unknown to me, I've managed to attract every neighborhood stray to the hood of my truck. They pee on my tires and the bushes in front of my house, taunt my dog as he barks, helplessly from inside the living room window, and on more than one occasion, I swear at least one of them has flashed me an evil smile as it walked slowly out of my yard in the middle of the night.

Fed up with the infestation, I borrowed an animal trap from a friend and caught me a cat. I caught the cat because I was told there is no service for picking up strays in my town. I called every humane society branch within three counties only to be told that they are not currently accepting cats but they would be happy to put me on a waiting list. In desperation, I called the dispatcher for the local police department to ask if they could do anything. The dispatcher answered my question short and rude, obviously suffering from a lack of morning coffee and some prior social education, and preceded to say "We ain't got no ordinance for stray cats." She went on to tell me that, if I found an animal dead on the road, they could send someone to come pick it up. Hmm, I thought, But I knew I couldn't follow through on such a despicable plan.

Well I've been catching cats for a week now-one a day. Let's just say that I'm trying to provide them with a good home in the country. Hey, don't judge me. I did everything I could short of providing a pillow and a scratching post for the flea-bitten varmints! Besides, were talking property damage here. These cats have scratched the paint and rubber on all of our vehicles. Back in the old days one could rid themselves of cats by simply starting their vehicle first-thing in the morning. This is no longer an option with electric fans and tight engine compartments.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a mean person. I love cats, they taste like chicken! Just kidding, although one never knows. I've eaten food in enough third-world countries that I have learned to refrain from asking if something doesn't taste quite right.

Anyway in keeping true to myself, I just couldn't let it go. Since I could find no help in the local community, I wrote a very long poem/ballad about it. If anyone asks me, I'll claim the characters and events are purely fictional.

I've tried to conform, if only barely, to the standard ballad format. That is, four-lines (quatrain) with the first and third line; second and fourth line emphasis.

The Ongoing Ballad of Daleville Dan

Daleville Dan was a simple man
New to life in the city
He was country as vast farmland
Taking no handouts or pity

His truck was his greatest source of pride
A 4X4 with big fat tires and shiny paint
He'd often say as he cleaned his ride
"A workin' truck, it ain't"

Now one cold morning, he went outside
To give his baby a start
A big black cat sat on his ride
A sinking, he felt in his heart

He stood firm, took a deep breath and yelled with all his might
"Get off my damn truck, you mangy flea-bitten feline"
You'd think the cat'd hiss, run away but no, he stayed for the fight
Dan yelled again, feigned a jump, the cat left in a hurried beeline

With the cat gone now, Dan went to his truck
And eyed his ride with great care
In his throat, a lump became stuck
When he saw some scratches there

Dan thought hard, scratching his head
He came up with a plan and broke out the old phone book
The shelter refused saying "can you call the cops instead?"
So, he called the dispatcher with a "please, come take a look?"

He pleaded and whined about his truck with the brand new scratch
The dispatcher gave him a hush saying "We don't care of your woes"
"Don't you see, we've got no ordinance for cats"
"find your own plan, round here, that's just how it goes"

No one to call, his heart in free-fall, he didn't know what to do
His truck was a mess, and if asked to confess
His yard was becoming a zoo
But Dan, a smart man, soon had a plan to get him out of his mess

That evening he looked in his shed and found an old metal trap
Made for critters, great and small
He thought of the cat "I'll learn him from giving me crap"
As he baited, set and placed the trap right next to an outside wall

The very next morning there in the trap sat a scouring mad feline
Ole' Dan was quite proud; as he picked up the trap with gloved hand
Threw the cat, in his truck, and headed for the county line
Over the bridge, across highway 231, he traveled through the land

A distance now away from his home, he stopped and let the cat go
The cat took off like, well, a scorned cat, and into the woods he ran
Satisfied, Dan got back in his truck and headed back home
No remorse, city cat, country cat, he thought, just a part of the plan

The next morning, Dan left his house, intending to go off to work
There lay the cat he'd dropped off before, waiting on top of his ride
The cat slowly rolled, flexed it's claws, looking at him with a smirk
Then, just as slow, the cat jumped away, as Dan stomped back inside

The scene replayed till two weeks were done
And Dan could take no more
HIs patience at end, he found his gun
And ran like a madman, out his door

In the yard stood the beastly, hairy, evil, flea-bitten feline
Rage in his mind, hate in his blood, Dan raised the pistol square
He started to squeeze the trigger, but he heard the siren's whine
Dan was distracted but shot at last; the bullet flew up in the air

The Po'Po' ran in, pistols raised and yelling with scream and shout
They cuffed him and beat ole' Dan down, pushing air from his lungs
To the station and in the jail, they told him he'd never get out
Saying "Son, what you trying to pull? We got an ordinance for guns"

So, now Daleville Dan, in the city jail, off the city streets
The cops threw him right down the hatch
And that dastardly, devilish, hairy beast
still uses his truck as a cat scratch


Opening Post

Welcome to all that may venture upon my little blog. Here you will find musings and essays on life in general. You can follow my assimilation into small-town Southern America and read fictionalized stories of yore (my youth) as well as comments and fictionalized accounts of current events. I try not to get into politics but ... oh what the hell, I might as confess ... everything is politics, and I like to yell from a soapbox just like the next guy!

Some of these items I may have posted elsewhere, but here you'll get the backstory. That is, you'll learn the secrets of what brought about some particular piece of work.

If you are a family member, you might find some of this work enjoyable and insightful. If you are a friend or passerby, you might find the work insightful, truthful, comical, or just plain stupid.

I will also post excerpts of current writing projects here. You may comment if you wish. Please be advised that some material posted here may not be suitable for children as I make no attempt to categorize or censor my work.

Thank you for visiting, and welcome.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Blog opening test

This is a test post to determine work capabilities of site.