Permission Denied

I found out that I lacked the proper credentials to view my own blogsite last night. I kept getting error code 403 telling me to contact the website administrator to gain access. I walked over to the mirror and gave myself permission; I even sent myself an email giving me permission, still no access. I sent off a request for help to Blogger and got back an email explaining that some blogsite were down for maintenance and to be patient.

They must have sent me the right credentials, maybe they’re being installed on my hard drive as I write because I now have access to T. F. Stern’s Rantings. I can feel my head swelling from the ego trip; I have proper credentials, do you?

Lucy and I are in the middle of getting ready for painting two rooms, the dinning room and the office. Part of getting ready is getting all the books off the book cases, all five book cases are solid oak. Three are side by side in the office, formerly known as the living room, and take up the entire wall. This is where I have my computer set up. The two book cases from the dinning room have been emptied and placed in the garage which means my little green Z is parked in the driveway until this project is over.

As soon as the paint has been applied we are ripping out the carpet in both rooms and having hardwood floors put in. The fellow who moved in across the street installs hardwood floors for a living, how’s that for timing? When we bought this house we were concerned about having light colored carpets. I told Lucy that as soon as they got to looking ugly we would put down oak floors. Well, we did that in the den several years ago and they look fabulous; now it’s time to get rid of the rest of the down stairs carpet.

This is the closest thing to moving I can think of, boxing up books, trophies, glass vases for cut flowers and putting it all somewhere else; that sounds like moving to me. I may rent a U-Haul and park it out front just for show. We did that one time when one of the kids, I think it was Jennifer, was on the way up to Salt Lake City or Denver; can’t remember for sure. We have all the time in the world to get this done so we pack away a couple of boxes and then relax before going after a couple more boxes the next day. I figure by the time we get it all done Lucy and I will be moving into the assisted retirement community; at least all our stuff will be boxed and ready to go. When we get to the receptionist and she will take one look at all those boxes of junk and tell us, “Permission Denied”.

Parenthood for Seniors

I keep in touch with my folks; nice to have that opportunity as they are both older than dirt now. The other day mom was calming down after what she called a terrible time. That could mean anything from dad trying to fix something to dad fixed something.

Mom was watching the morning news and they were going on about the floods in Hawaii, more specifically the story about the dam that burst. The headline being reported, One body found, six missing as mud, debris released on Kauai. Kauai is the island where my sister lives. ( link via title bar )

Mom dialed my sister’s phone number and got the typical answering machine message; not very comforting to a distraught mother worried about her daughter being swept down to the ocean never to be seen again. It might have been five in the morning Florida time; that would make it the middle of the night in Hawaii. Several attempts to contact my sister, leaving messages on the damn answering machine, were taking a toll on my folks.

My sister must have heard the phone ringing off the hook in her sleep and got up to hear some of the frantic messages as she called mom and dad to let them know she was okay. Had she known about the flood waters and the dam break, she might have gotten on her surf board and ridden it to the beach just to see if she could.

Minutes spent worrying about one of your children, those eternities of doubt, are not properly explained in the parenthood owner’s manual. Maybe those pages were intentionally removed by the Author as Adam and Eve left the garden. In case you haven’t figured it out; the moment you become a parent you enter into a never ending position of having to love, care for and yes, worry.

Eat Red Meat Day

Kateland over at The Last Amazon wrote a piece, Eatapeta Day, a stab at those folks at PETA who have made it a point to grill everyone who eats meat by comparing this to the Holocaust. Other than being a bunch of hypocrites, the folks at PETA have marginalized their position by grossly misrepresenting life on the planet Earth.

I won’t watch any movies with reference to the Holocaust, Shindler’s List, The Rose Garden, Life is Beautiful or any of the reminders of human suffering. The Jews weren’t the only victims; millions of other innocents were destroyed. I see no link between blind hatred of one human directed toward another human and the use of food obtained to maintain life. I believe all that was put in the earth, on the earth and above the earth was placed there for our use and our benefit. I’m going have a Pastrami on Rye for lunch and be grateful that my needs and desires to have food are supplied so efficiently here in the United States of America. Tomorrow I may have peanut butter and jelly or roast beef, the choice is mine.

Photo courtesy of Katz’s Sandwich found using Yahoo. (link via title bar)

Here's the link to The Last Amazon since the tools to hide URL links is giving me fits again.

http://thelastamazon.blogspot.com/2006/03/eatapeta-day.html

Serious Stuff

Harry Potter had us all on the edge of our seats waiting for Serious Black to sneak up behind and cancel his ticket; sorry, today’s ramblings aren’t that dark.

First on the list of serious stuff would have to be a phone call I had with my dad yesterday. He was telling me how one of his balls developed a huge crack in it. Dad’s a little odd; he has one 16 pound ball and the other is only 9 pounds; no braggin’, just facts. He used to keep them in the trunk of his car until he decided that it would be easier for him to have a locker at the bowling alley. He had the 9 pound ball made for when he had surgery, something that would permit him to enjoy his favorite sport without over doing it. The plastic split, a giant fissure formed and ruined the custom ball. I think he should keep on using it just to hear it thump thump thumps down the lane, maybe throw off shrapnel as it strikes the pins and clogs up the works.

“Bowl a hundred, Dad!”

I got a neat letter from my chiropractor this past week; a special discount on all their available treatments to celebrate being in business for 21 years, all for just $ 21. I needed an adjustment; been putting it off too long as it was, as I drove over to take advantage of the special offer. I didn’t need to have my back x-rayed, that was done before I ever had my first treatment, all the same I had to ask if I could have one x-ray done.

I’d seen a picture box that a friend of mine had made, an x-ray of his police pistol. I explained all this to the receptionist at the chiropractor’s desk. There was an interesting look on her face; not quite sure how to answer my request and at the same time wondering, “Are you signed out of the mental hospital or did you recently escape?” There was a short committee meeting of doctors and technicians in the back room. Dr. Durrett came back and looked at the billing codes on the computer, going down the standard list.

“Your kidding, they have a billing code for pistol x-rays?” I laughed as she pointed to the closest simple charge that would justify adding 21 dollars to my bill. “Do you do shotguns too?”

I got my back adjusted by Dr. Upchurch which opened up my sinus cavities. She then did some hocus pocus chiropractor stuff as I lay there on my back.

“Am I officially a Catholic now?”, I asked as she finished the interesting gestures; touching my forehead and moving down to the center of my chest. Dr. Upchurch breathed out slowly and blinked as her eyes rolled noisily, not sure what to make of my question.

She continued to work on a particularly painful area just below the neck. I told her the joke about the piece of rope, the one that had gone into the bar asking for a beer. The bar tender explained that he didn’t serve rope and tossed him out the door.

Not to be denied, the rope climbed back up on the stool and asked for a beer. The bartender got a bit angry, picked him up and twisted him into a knot before hurling him out into the street where he was subsequently run over by several vehicles.

A few minutes later, having recovered from the abuse, he goes back into the bar and asks for a beer.

“Hey, aren’t you that rope I just tossed out?” The bartender gritted out as he walked closer.

“I’m a frayed knot!”

Hey, it’s the only joke I know that matched up with the huge knot Dr. Upchurch was working on in between my shoulder blades.

The x-ray technician had me lay the pistol on top of the film box as she adjusted the settings for Smith & Wesson, again, not on the list of normal procedures. I chided that most of her clients might not be loaded; but that this one was. She took the x-ray and shook her head. It’s not as interesting to look at as my friends; but I’ll bet they didn’t crack his neck as part of the deal. 

Happy St Patrick's Day

Happy St Patrick's Day and a tip of the Irish cap to my friend Patti for sharing this one. I can always remember my brother’s birthday because all the Irish celebrate it; Happy Birthday Dan.

Two men were sitting next to each other at a bar. After a while, one guy looks at the other and says, "I can't help but think, from listening to you, that you're from Ireland "

The other guy responds proudly, "Yes...that I am!"

The first guy says, "So am I! And where about from Ireland might you be?"

The other guy answers, "I'm from Dublin , I am."

The first guy responds, "Sure and begora, and so am I! And what street did you live on in Dublin ?"

The other guy says, "A lovely little area it was, I lived on McCleary Street in the old central part of town."

The first guy says, "Faith & it's a small world, so did I! So did I!! And to what school would you have been going?"

The other guy answers, "Well now, I went to St.Mary's of course."

The first guy gets really excited and says, "And so did I. Tell me, what year did you graduate?"

The other guy answers, "Well, now, let's see, I graduated in 1964."

The first guy exclaims, "The Good Lord must be smiling down upon us! I can hardly believe our good luck at winding up in the same bar tonight. Can you believe it, I graduated from St. Mary's in 1964 my own self."

About this time, a woman walks into the bar, sits down, and orders a beer.

The bartender, walks over to her, shaking his head & mutters, "It's going to be a long night tonight!"

She asks, "Why do you say that?"

He replies, "The Murphy twins are drunk again."

Photograph credit goes to Celtic Accents where you can purchase sun catchers and ornate boxes. (linked via title bar) 

Another Bush Fiasco

One of the headline stories in the Houston Chronicle reads, Ex-Bush aide is charged in fraudulent store refunds (linked via title bar)

“WASHINGTON — President Bush today said he was shocked and saddened to learn that former domestic policy adviser Claude Allen was charged with theft for allegedly receiving phony refunds at department stores.”

{…}

“Allen, 45, was arrested Thursday by police in Montgomery County, Md., for allegedly claiming refunds for more than $5,000 worth of merchandise he did not buy, according to county and federal authorities. He had been under investigation since at least January for alleged thefts on 25 occasions at Target and Hecht's stores.”

None of this would have happened if President Bush had not directed Allen to start his life of crime in order to pay for the Iraq War. President Bush lied to Allen, telling him that he would never get caught, never become involved with the Abu Grabe prison scandal. Allen was transported from his detention cell in an SUV that only gets 9.7 miles per gallon, further eroding the fragile relations with our allies who signed the Kyoto Protocol agreement. This is the same SUV that Dick Cheney purportedly used in his attempted assassination and subsequent cover up on a ranch owned by Bush supporters.

It is rumored that President Bush has attempted to quash telephoto digital photographs taken by uniformed high ranking Army officers of Allen in an orange jump suit playing with himself while he was waiting to board a secret CIA jet bound for an undisclosed prison camp in eastern Europe where he will be humiliated and tortured along with hundreds of other political prisoners.

Isn’t that the story the biased news media would have preferred to have printed? I should send in my resume to the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times or the New York Times and include this as a sample of the hateful one sided news article I am capable of generating, regardless of the facts or the damage done.

The Safe Job

Dan Kaufman, from the Committees of Correspondence, commented on my article about some thief who'd broken the window of his car; never having bothered to check the door, which was left unlocked. I’d written about stupid thieves who destroy much more than they ever get away with. (linked via title bar)

I suppose I should add to the list of destructive jerks; those wonderful folks who help raise our insurance premiums with each breath they take outside the cell block walls. I could go on quite a while; what’s that line from Alice’s Restaurant, the one Arlo Guthrie adds after having sung the first ten minutes or so and you’re not sure how much longer he’ll keep singing, “I could go on all night, … I’m not proud…or tired”, as he waits for the chorus line to come around again; hoping that this time the audience will join in with a little more volume, “You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant; excepting Alice, You can get anything you want… at Alice’s Restaurant. Walk right in it’s around the back, just a half a mile from the rail road tracks, you can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant, …Da da da da da da da dum…at Alice’s Restaurant…”

As a point of interest, I think it’s mildly amusing that a retired cop would enjoy Alice’s Restaurant with all the sarcasm directed toward, “Officer Obie”, who put him in jail for littering and the rest of the police in attendance. Here’s the link to the lyrics for the entire song.

http://www.arlo.net/lyrics/alices.shtml

I made a burglary of a residence at the home of a retired individual many years ago. His hobby was learning the art of cutting gem stones. He’d stored all his practice gems in a rather large old time safe in one of his bedrooms, the door to the safe was always left unlocked so he didn’t have to fumble with the combination. My thought was, “Why not leave them on the table if you’re not going to lock the safe?”, but this was his stuff and not mine.

He came home to find the house had been broken into as he followed the trail of concrete dust that had been tracked on the carpet. This old safe had walls that were filled with concrete as a means of insulation against fire. The thieves had pried open the top with sledge hammers and crow bars. They tore the top layer of steel off and broke the concrete into “Gorgan Dust”. ( Line stolen from The Last Star Fighter). Then came the next layer of steel and finally into the compartments that had the gem stones all in those fancy velvet protective flaps. There were pieces of safe scattered everywhere and the dust from the concrete had drifted into every room of the house. The thieves got away with a bunch of junk stones, the owner showing me that the really good stuff was in the next compartment and had never been touched. The door to the safe had never been tried as it swung open easily, the owner showing me as he pushed down on the lever arm.

Moving right along on the list of worthless thieves are the ones who break into convenience stores during the wee hours to steal a couple of six packs of beer. They have a couple of methods to accomplish the break in; tossing a huge piece of concrete through the front window is the most popular, followed closely by driving a bumper into the front of the store so that it takes out several of those windows along with the supports for those windows. They then grab a couple of cold ones and disappear into the night. I used to arrive after having been dispatched to one of these “Smash and grabs”; take notice of the damage, what I figured had been stolen and fill in most of the blanks on the official incident report before the owner showed up. I could then get his/her name to finish off the report and turn the building over at that time. The store front glass cost about $ 400 for each piece broken; the beer was about $ 20.

Last on my list, at least for today, is the young man who broke into one of his neighbors apartments here in Houston this past week. He saw an electronic gadget that he just had to have so he took it. On the way out he came up with the idea of covering his tracks, getting rid of his finger prints on all the other stuff he’d rummaged through. He set the apartment on fire and ran out the door with his prize. A few minutes later 8 apartment units had burned to the ground, their occupants escaping serious injury and death by only moments as the smoke filled each attached apartment. Some of the neighbors had seen him leave the apartment, the one that he set on fire, and it was only a matter of putting the cuffs on him as they led him off to jail. Did I mention that most of the families who lost everything in the fire were also temporary residents, evacuees from Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans? When asked about it, the suspect could only say he was sorry.

Was he sorry about the damage, the possibility that he could have killed folks because of his stupidity or was he sorry that he got caught? At least he got caught.

Payback is Hell

Last week my daughter Jennifer posted a picture of me, one that I had protested as being uncomplimentary. I’d flown up to visit them after the birth of my first grandchild and was exhausted from the trip. Sometime during my slumbers Jennifer borrowed my camera and snapped a few pictures. I thought about deleting them as soon as I found them on the memory disc; but Jennifer protested, saying that she really like them. I knew I should have deleted them,

During Jennifer’s Senior Prom and all the festivities that went along with graduation from High School, the parents were asked to supply a picture of their child to post on a huge bulletin board. All the other students were to guess who their classmate was by observing the childhood photograph. I suppose Jennifer had that in mind when she posted my picture; payback is hell! (linked in title bar)

The photo was taken right after church. Jennifer was all dressed up and slipped out the back door and into a muddy bird bath before her mother was even aware. I snapped the picture and kept it tucked away in the stack of albums for when she was grown. I would tease her, telling her that I’d show it to the young men who would come to pick her up on dates. She never thought I’d post it on the bulletin board for everyone to see, for that matter, post it on the internet. At least she had all her clothes on for this one.

HPD Watering Hole

During a move back in the early 80’s to have police officers walking beats downtown, something which was a pure public relations gesture, my partner and I did our best to be seen. Some of our efforts reminded the local business owners that they only had a business on the street that went past; not ownership rights to that street. We did take it upon ourselves to do a complete traffic study of the six blocks assigned to us, indicate changes to parking zones and general traffic movement we thought would benefit everyone. Many of our suggestions were acted upon and my partner and I received a Chief’s Commendation for our efforts; this was just before they tried to fire us for these same efforts, another story that I might share one day.

I used to cut the shoulder patch off of my worn out police shirts, the ones that I was supposed to turn back in to be destroyed to keep the bad guys from pretending to be cops, I would glue those patches to trophy plaques. I would then engrave the award, "HPD Watering Hole", and give them to businesses that were pro-police; those who let us use their facilities, lunch rooms, and the like. We even gave a plaque to the Blood Center, a place we would visit every so many months to donate our blood.

I’m giving a tip of the hat to Ted at Musings of an Old Man for his post, “Top Cop”. (linked via title bar) His photo of a police shoulder patch reminded me of those times. 

The Ignorant Thief or I Have No Clue Let’s Just Break It!

I’ve been making far too many service calls on newer vehicles, the kind that won’t start without a properly programmed transponder key. These vehicles have been butchered with hammers, screw drivers, wrenches as in days of old. A thief with limited abilities used to be able to beat the crap ( technical locksmith term) out of a steering column and access the gears to steal almost anything. Now these same idiots can destroy quite a bit of very expensive gadgets and never once start the engine.

I’m thinking of starting a newsletter; one directed toward amateur car thieves. Maybe I can enlist the help of the local police department’s Auto Theft Division to get me a mailing list for the newsletter, or just leave them a stack for the detectives to hand out to the next generation of auto thieves. I can call it, The Ignorant Thief or I Have No Clue – Let’s Just Break It!. I could print a list of all the cars and trucks that are easy to steal, another with the ones that are not. I could get Bail Bonds companies to advertise and Attorney’s who specialize in defending stupid criminals would want a piece of the action too. The problem, at least as I see it, most of these folks are too stupid and can’t read.

Today’s genius, rather, last night’s genius destroyed the door handle to get in; punching the lock smooth into the door cavity. He then took a sledge hammer to the dash board of the brand new 2006 Dodge Charger. I have no idea how much time this bozo invested before walking away empty handed. I do know that it will take at least a thousand dollars in repairs just to fix the cosmetic damages, never mind the electronic packages that will have to be replaced.

On the other hand, as much money as this has been generating for me, maybe I should start selling hammers, screw drivers and large wrenches when the sun goes down, hand out some of my business cards and wait for the phone to ring. The UPS man just delivered another box of replacement ignition switches, gotta’ go now.

Mulch Warning!!!

A tip of the hat goes out to Richard Sutton for passing along this important warning. I know, you folks up in the northern climes still have your snow shovels in hand and the idea of putting down mulch won’t hit for another month or so; but here in Texas, Spring has sprung.

If you use mulch around your house be very careful about buying mulch this year. After the Hurricane in New Orleans many trees were blown over. These trees were then turned into mulch and the state is trying to get rid of tons and tons of this mulch to any state or company who will come and haul it away. So it will be showing up in Home Depot and Lowes at dirt cheap prices with one huge problem; Formosan Termites will be the bonus in many of those bags. New Orleans is one of the few areas in the country were the Formosan Termites has gotten a strong hold and most of the trees blown down were already badly infested with those termites.

Now we may have the worst case of transporting a problem to all parts of the country that we have ever had. These termites can eat a house in no time at all and we have no good control against them, so tell your friends that own homes to avoid cheap mulch and know were it came from. I’ve included a link in the title bar for more information.

Envy and Greed Will Bring Us Down

Brendan Miniter has written an interesting article worth reading as he points out some specifics in a war we are all going to lose because we are being blind sided. My friend Ross posted this, follow the link in the title bar, to Rossputin.com to read the entire article. Here are a few of the highlights.

“The war on Wal-Mart is really about expanding government.”

{. . .}

“Two weeks ago Mr. Hubbard was at it again, this time introducing a new bill to mandate that companies with at least 1,000 employees spend 4.5% of their payroll on health care or pay the state the difference. Once this piece is in place, Mr. Hubbard told me, the next step will be to create a similar mandate--perhaps 2% or 3%--for companies with fewer than 1,000 employees.”

It's fairly simple, divide the citizens through class envy to tax the greedy rich and then follow that with a smaller tax on the greedy poor; just to make it seem fair, proportionally. The sad thing is that the strategy works, time and time again it has proven to work. This time it’s Wal-Mart, last time it was Microsoft. Those no good rotten rich people have no regard for us little guys; let’s tax them till their noses bleed, that will teach them to be successful. It’s all Wal-Mart’s fault; all they had to do was to unionize, pay for employee’s medical insurance and this could have been avoided. This is nothing more than refusal to take responsibility for individual action in reverse.

The problem with envy and greed is that they serve an eternal purpose, one that takes the human spirit down a road that leads to oblivion. Mr. Hubbard appears to have chosen to work for the Master of Lies; hell, he’s bragging about how it. Wake Up Folks, this isn’t a practice session!

In Memory of Don Knotts

I was sorry to hear of the passing of Don Knotts. He was a great side kick actor, making his most memorable character as Barney Fife, Mayberry’s deputy who carried his lone bullet in his pocket. He played many other roles; Mr. Limpet, The Ghost and Mr. Chicken and possibly his shortest role in No Time For Sergeants.

I watched No Time For Sergeants tonight; looking forward to the administration of the coordination test scene. “But he did it all wrong.”, his high pitched voice reacting to the newly bent and destroyed testing materials, that familiar bungler that matched him up with Andy Griffith for the rest of his career.

An Interesting Call for Service

Yesterday afternoon I had a woman call me asking for prices; nothing strange about that, happens all the time. I generally like to know who I’m talking to, a social courtesy and just plain good business to start things off on the right foot.

“The car belongs to my sister; why do you need to know my name?” I use one of those old fashioned cell phones that doesn’t have a built in camera so she couldn’t see me shake my head and start to grin as I looked with my eyes rolled upwards.

“Okay, can you tell me what I’ll be making a key to?”

“It’s a 1998 Ford Ranger that belonged to her son.” There was a lengthy explanation as to the probability that the keys were in some relatives pocket because the woman was too old to be driving and they might have intentionally withheld the keys. “How much will it cost to make a key?”

I went on to explain that I would quote her two prices because on that particular year model some had a plain mechanical key that I could replace for $ 50 and that on others that had the transponder key systems I would have to charge an additional $ 100; two PATS keys at $ 25 each plus $ 50 to initialize the PATS system by hooking my computer up to the computer on board the truck.

“I’ll take the $ 50 key; we’re trying to save money”. I explained that I couldn’t say for sure which price would be in effect until I had a chance to examine the vehicle, turn the key in the ignition and see if it was equipped with the transponder system. When she hung up I wasn’t sure that she had any idea what I’d tried to explain about the newer key systems and why there was a price difference.

This morning she called back, still reluctant to tell me her name. “Remember me, I called about my sister’s Ford Ranger? You can come make that $ 50 dollar key now; she’s expecting you.” I went over the price, explaining the same thing as before.

“She can’t afford the other key so just make the $ 50 dollar key”. It was no use; just do it.

“Can I get an address and a phone number?” I took down the information and was familiar with the location that wasn’t far from the job I was almost finished with. “I can be there within the hour. It would be nice to have her name in case I have to call.” The woman then gave me all the requested information along with her own phone number, just in case I had to call back.

“Thank you, I’ll be there shortly.” I drove the short distance and upon pulling up in front of the house I called the number to let her know I was one of the “good guys”. I had dialed the back up phone number by accident and recognized the voice immediately as she answered the phone. “Just letting you know I arrived.”

I then walked up to the front door, the storm door permitted a view of the living room. A very old and feeble woman was charting a course for the front door; one labored and calculated step at a time as she made sure to catch a piece of an arm chair, a corner of a table and then the next chair until arriving at the front door. I quietly prayed for her safety as it was painfully clear that she should be using a walker; at the very least a cane.

“You’ll forgive my slowness, I just got out of the hospital with a broken hip.” I winced at the idea of her walking around at all.

“I have a cane in my truck, please, let me get it for you.” My back will pinch on me while working and so I keep the cane behind the front seat just in case. I’ve only had to use it a couple of times; even so, it’s worth having.

“No thank you, they gave me one of those walker things; can’t stand it, gets in the way all the time.” I could see her trying to figure out how to turn around; a hesitation and a look of exasperation on her face as she called out to her house keeper. “Did you unlock the garage?” I heard the garage door opening and let her know that I could take care of what ever needed to be done and to PLEASE sit and make herself comfortable.

I made the key in short order; but the battery on the truck was so weak that I had to jump it off. I keep a set of jumper cables handy for such occasions. The truck started right up with the simple key; they must be living under a special star. I backed my truck out of the garage and while I was putting up my tools I noticed that the woman had come out into the garage with a few bills folded up in her hand to pay me with.

“I’ll be right there, just making you a spare key; no charge, on the house.” I looked over and my stomach began to tighten; she was sprawled out on the floor, how she fell I have no idea. She hadn’t cried out in pain, in fact she had a silly grin on her face, still holding the rolled up bills up as if to pay me.

“Please, somebody going past will think I’m robbing you.” I forced a laugh as I went to help her up; all the while praying that she hadn’t broken her hip again, an ankle or something else.

“I’m fine, just tripped over that piece of wood; really, I’m okay.” I walked her back inside the house and accepted her payment. She wanted me to stay around; charge the battery, move the truck out of the garage and some other things.

“Sorry, I have another customer waiting on me; I have to go now.” Thinking to myself, “Please, God, let her live until I’m out of the driveway.”, knowing that her house keeper was there to tend to things.

Edited May 5, 2006: This article was published in the locksmith's national trade magazine, ALOA's Keynotes, April edition.

Spoiled American Locksmith

I bought a new file last week to replace one that I thought had been used to the point of being worn out. I don’t like to waste money on a tool I already own; so, buying one I think might be useful for another year or so runs contrary to my personality; blame it on my Scottish and German ancestry.

The file I replaced isn’t going to be found just anywhere; not at Sears or the local hardware store since it has very limited use, locksmiths or possibly someone who sharpens chain saws might use such a file except this particular file wouldn’t last long working with anything other than brass. It’s called a, “GROBET 6" #4 CUT ROUND SWISS FILE” (linked via title bar), and is used to make an impression key. It feels like velvet to the touch because its design is cut so finely. I can whittle a key blank to fit the shape of the original key by studying the way the metal reflects off the surface of a properly prepared key. The better the file, the better the surface to work from and the quicker I can finish and get paid.

I got to use my new file this afternoon and I was pleasantly reminded of how nice a new file can get the job done. I retired the old file to my back up tool box; several years as my favorite file, maybe I should have it framed and hang it on the wall. A lady at church asked me how I might describe what I do. I told her I was into Metal Sculpture and smiled a big grin back at her. My artwork pays very nicely and folks don’t have to travel to a museum to enjoy it.

Sometimes I just comment

Houston Chief Wants To Install Cameras In Your Home was the title of an article posted at a site called “1492”. The article was all about the right to privacy and a statement made, "if you are not doing anything wrong, why should you worry about it?" and the associated mentality which springs from such an attitude.

http://1492columbus.blogspot.com/2006/02/houston-chief-wants-to-install-cameras.html

I had to comment:

I read the article in the Houston Chronicle by the Chief and he wanted to post 6 cameras in the downtown area. These cameras will be monitored by officers and the intent was to save tax dollars by increasing the viewable area while not having to use more officers. I don't recall anything being mentioned about placing cameras in homes, that sounds like fabrication on the fly.

The city of Houston is installing some 50 or so cameras at busy intersections to catch and ticket folks who run red lights, another issue since these will not be monitored by a police officer prior to sending out a ticket. I have written extensively on this subject, in fact it is one of the reasons I started my blog. My satire op-ed published by the Chronicle was so badly edited as to indicate that I was for camera enforcement when I am not.

There are cameras placed in locations around the freeway systems to monitor traffic flow; which information is passed along directly to the public via the internet, to help identify tie ups, wrecks and alternate routes.

In summary, cameras can be used to assist the everyday goings on in some instances. Their use as a traffic enforcement tool, however, violates basic rights by putting a machine in place of a human as a witness, be it a criminal proceeding or civil. I don't buy into the "right to privacy" arguement when these cameras are placed in public places, no different than having a police officer standing on a corner since the information is monitored by officers as a means of determining if immediate action is necessary and also to document activity that may have evidence that will aid in catching criminals. Store cameras installed behind the register help catch bad guys all the time.

Lastly, neither the city of Houston, nor its police chief are not in favor of installing these types of cameras in homes. (should have read “are in favor”)

Public Servants Indeed was the title of a piece written by DL over at TMH Bacon Bits about unions and the use of strikes by public employees to shut down cities and break the backs of those who pay their salaries. I think this article pointed out the same concerns that most folks have toward unionized workers forgetting who is in charge.

http://www.tmhbaconbits.net/2006/02/21/public-servants-indeed/#comments

Here’s the comment I left:

I have some direct input regarding civil servants, unions and the threat to strike in order to obtain leverage. Back when I was an officer with the City of Houston we had two major groups, The Houston Police Officer’s Association and The Houston Police Officer’s Union. I was not a member of the Union. One time these brave union officers wanted to call for a sick out strike. Interestingly the sick out was scheduled to fall on the same night as their “honcho’s” regular night off so he could look like he was in full support of the sick out strike. I was called a “scab” by this fellow officer, something which he learned to regret within seconds of the words escaping his lips. I pointed out the fact that if he could step outside and discuss the point or apologize in front of his union members, which he did.

Civil servants sign up knowing that they have limited powers of appeal to those who pay their salary. The problem is that they forget after awhile, believing that they can rule those who hired them. My point of view is that if the situation becomes so bad that employment is no longer worth it; leave and find employment somewhere else. At that time you can gripe, grumble and stand on the soap box as long as you like to explain about how rotten things were. Unless you are willing to take that step, then bite your tongue and do the job you are being paid to do.

Why I love The Houston Livestock Show And Rodeo was posted by Greg at Rhymes With Right. Until you have experienced Go Texan week in Houston, well, it’s hard to explain in so many words. I have to enjoy a non-political blog once in a while.

http://rhymeswithright.mu.nu/archives/158862.php

I left this comment:

My daughter told me a funny story last year about a fellow visiting Houston over by the Post Oak Business park. He looked out the window on the Friday before the big Live Stock Show Parade and noticed all the traffic tied up because of the cowboys headed toward Memorial Park. Then the folks who worked there led him to believe it’s like that every afternoon.

(Not left in the comment section: Traffic around the Post Oak Business area is always a mess, "We don't need no stinking horses" to screw it up.

Yehaw!

Clean Hands

To all my friends and those who read my articles I pass along this wise council. It is not my intention to point a finger accusingly, only to consider the paths which lie before us and to choose with great care knowing that all paths have a destination.

I heard one my local church leaders, Dennis Larsen of the Stake Presidency, explain how important it was to have clean hands. He used the example of an old television show, “What’s My Line”. Some of you may not be old enough to remember the black and white television game show.

“There was a regular panel of “star celebrities” who would each get to ask 10 questions of the person, one who had some unusual form of making a living while attempting to discern, “What’s My Line?”. One of them, Kitty Carlyle ( hope I got that right ), would always ask to have a good look at the person’s hands as one of her questions.” . (paraphrased)

I immediately gave my hands a quick perusal; being a locksmith, I have to work particularly hard to clean away oily dirt that gets embedded in the small cracks or fissures in my hands and under my fingernails. Yes, my hands were cracked and rough from being exposed to the elements; but they were clean.

“What would your hands say about your habits, your lifestyle; are they clean? In Psalms 23:3-4, David says, “Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? Or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart…”

President Larsen was talking about a different kind of “clean hands” as he directed most of his comments toward the youth attending the meeting. I’m still younger than my father so I must be one of the youth he was addressing.

“You young men are not only going to have to account to your fathers and Church leaders here but most importantly one day to Heavenly Father. None of us knows how long we are going to live. In the Book of Mormon, Alma asked the question, “Can ye look up to God at that day with a pure heart and clean hands?” (Alma 5:19)”

President Larsen then quoted from an address given to the Priesthood Session of General Conference in October 2000. Elder Jeffery R. Holland, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, gave the young men and even their fathers some wonderful counsel on keeping clean today and standing in holy places. I would like to share this with you:

“Now, we live in an age when that cleanliness is more and more difficult to preserve. With modern technology even your youngest brothers and sisters can be carried virtually around the world before they are old enough to ride a tricycle safely across the street. What were in my generation carefree moments of movie going, TV watching, and magazine reading have now, with the additional availability of VCRs, the Internet, and personal computers, become amusements fraught with genuine moral danger. I put the word amusements in italics. Did you know that the original Latin meaning of the word amusement is “a diversion of the mind intended to deceive”? Unfortunately that is largely what “amusements” in our day have again become in the hands of the arch deceiver."

"Recently I read an author who said: “Our leisure, even our play, is a matter of serious concern. [That is because] there is no neutral ground in the universe: every square inch, every split second, is claimed by God and counterclaimed by Satan.” I believe that to be absolutely true, and no such claiming and counterclaiming anywhere is more crucial and conspicuous than that being waged for the minds and morals, the personal purity of the young.”

Consider the information available in plain sight as you go about your daily information travels through the internet. I generally start with my local newspaper’s web site, then CNN and Fox to get an idea of what happened during the past several hours. How many of you would enjoy a field trip to visit the red light district in Amsterdam? At CNN they’re having an open house this week for curious tourists, complete with video of those brothels. All you have to do is click on the link provided, no parental controls because it’s a news story, right? If you’re looking for the link here; sorry, you’ll have to go over to CNN.

Listening to the Spirit

It’s Sunday, a day for contemplating my eternal soul. My friend Jack Mixa summed up quite a bit in one sentence today, forgive me if I misquote a bit, “A person who looks up into the heavens gains more understanding of them in five minutes than he could by reading from a book on astronomy all his life.” Jack went on to explain that you can learn quite a bit about the temporal and spiritual health of a family by entering their home and observing with all five of your senses, much more so than had you relied on a report.

We are about the work of our Father in Heaven as we take care of our neighbors, our brothers and sisters. It may not seem like much, dropping by to visit, saying a kind word while passing at the grocery store, sending a birthday card or any number of simple pleasantries as we go about life.

I noticed an act of kindness this morning at church; something that opened my eyes as to how the Spirit works. The talks had been given, the closing prayer offered and the chapel was clearing out as one of the sisters, an older woman who lives alone, approached the podium. She wanted a copy of the notes used by the speaker because the talk had meant so much to her. “No, problem, I have it on my computer”, handing over the printed version without a thought. I immediately saw a huge smile break over the older woman’s face, having been given a priceless gift, one that she could take home and read over and over again. I mentioned my observations to the speaker, catching up with her to let her know how important a gift she had given and how it had made the other sister’s day complete.

When I read my scriptures, I have to remind myself that the Prophets who wrote down the information were men, not so different than ourselves. They breathed air, swallowed water, ate meals and stubbed their toes while walking just as any other man. They did however, realize the eternal nature of man, the relationship with Father in Heaven and by doing so elevated the purpose of being mortal.

In the Book of Mormon, Ammon explained:

“. . . I am a man, and man in the beginning was created after the image of God, and I am called by his Holy Spirit to teach these things unto this people, that they may be brought to a knowledge of that which is just and true;

And a portion of that Spirit dwelleth in me, which giveth me knowledge, and also power according to my faith and desires which are in God.”
http://scriptures.lds.org/alma/18 (verse 34,35)

Jack Mixa was correct when he explained that looking into the heavens offers a glimpse of that eternal nature which we are a part of. Within each of us, being children of our Father in Heaven, is a portion of that Spirit, which giveth knowledge and power according to that faith and desire which are in God. The scriptures become more than words on a piece of paper, more than words spoken from a pulpit; they become a link with all that has been, all that is and all that will become. We gain a greater respect for life; more especially, we gain self respect. Our vision of the eternities need only start with a look in the mirror.

Oh My! Lindsey Jacobellis’ Lesson

Photo courtesy of Sports Illustrated’s Bob Martin as published on the CNN website.

Most everyone following the Winter Olympics has seen multiple reruns of Lindsey Lacobellis’ celebration for winning, correction, for almost winning the women's snowboardcross, the one she had in her back pocket just prior to the actual finish line. “Would of, should of and could of” are a poor substitute for a Gold medal that someone else got to take home. This is the kind of film footage that will haunt her the rest of her natural life as it will be shown at every Olympic competition as a lesson on how not to count your chickens before they hatch.

I’d go a step farther and explain that there is a difference between spontaneous jubilation for having won and poor sportsmanship. It happens in football games; the cocky in your face theatrics of rubbing the opponents noses in it for having scored a touchdown. In baseball it shows its ugly head when the star slugger smirks at the pitcher and stands at home plate watching the majestic arch as the baseball clears the upper deck railing in right center field prior to sauntering around the diamond.

What ever happened to winning graciously, acknowledging and respecting the competition? The spot light is on each of us as we shine or, in this case, tarnish the metal which we are made of. 

Water Skiing, Snorkeling and Scuba Diving and the ACLU

Several weeks ago I attended a Sunday School lesson taught by a friend of mine, an excellent teacher. He used the analogy of someone water skiing to start a discussion of how some folks read their scriptures. They know that by reading the scriptures on a daily basis that their lives will be blessed, in some small degree, by virtue of the fact that they are being obedient to that council given. Then there are those who are compared to folks who go snorkeling, they get into their scriptures a little deeper and by doing so are able to see things that are below the surface. Finally my friend brought up the scuba divers, those who delve deeply into the meanings of each and every word, sentence and structure presented so that at the end of their reading session they come away enlightened and edified, having gleaned much more than their counter parts.

We spent the better part of an hour, we could have spent the whole afternoon, scuba diving one chapter in the Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi 8, which is an accounting of the vision of the Tree of Life. ( http://scriptures.lds.org/en/1_ne/8 ) We pondered what various words meant, how they referred to other scripture, the importance of the images presented until the chapter’s contents had been gleaned.

This morning I was reading in Ogre’s Politics and Views, an article which he called, ACLU Hates Good. (linked via title bar) Ogre went on to explain how we are up against an organization which has as part of its on going agenda, declared war on everything which makes America great.

“Our heritage is slowly being stripped away. Scouting is an embedded institution in this nation. It contributes to society by keeping good boys good and allows them to develop into good men. Why would anyone want to destroy that? Because they don't like our way of life.”

While you still have your scuba gear on, can you figure out why I thought that these two stories fit so well together? Has the mist overtaken our view of the straight and narrow path which leads to the Tree of Life, our ability to hold to the rod which runs so dangerously close to that river of filth?