The Principal #311 6/14/2016

“Livin’ on the road, my friend was gonna keep you free and clean but now you wear your skin like iron and your breath’s as hard as kerosene.” Willy Nelson “Poncho and Lefty”

Welcome everyone to Drivel Over Coffee, the blog; musings, memories and whatnot infused with the earthy aroma of French Roast Coffee with a dose of rant mixed in on occasion. My look upon life as seen through dog-licked glasses.1512460_918830181501320_4047952152312654375_n

Friends and relatives of Sven & Jen converged on Principal Stadium in Des Moines this past Sunday. HOT! What more can you ask for – bright sunny day, I-Cubs triple A baseball, and Gazillion degrees of heat. Great to be in Iowa. Anyhow, we met at the stadium to witness history. History for the Schaub’s and Bailey’s at least. Jenny, the elder, had the honor of hurling out the first pitch. She did a great job. She showed her softball form, she pitched a heater (fastball) on a string with a one hop to the catcher. It was right down the middle. No arc, no woosey fling, a true strike almost. With that said, she was very happy to have it over with the heat and all. Proud of the lady, great job. Appropriate video and photos were taken by several, some have filtered onto the internet already.

– My blog initially started as a Tuesday offering as a rant about our solid waste agency, the sanitary sewer folks, and city government in general. After a year or so, I felt I had taken them to task enough so I changed directions. I think, however, it is time to once again look at our city government. First let me give a shout out to our beloved police department. I related the events of a robbery across the street on Hysteria Lane. A 911 call was made while the robbery was in progress. Had the lawmen should up timely, they could have caught the perp in action. It was evidently not given a priority over eating donuts because a squad car didn’t show up until 20 minutes AFTER the robber had left. He was doing his thing for a half hour or so. Did I say “blue lives matter?”

On to the Streets Department. Since the flood of 2008, our city fathers have allowed all of the city streets erode and decay into almost gravel. Our streets are soooo bad. A couple of years ago my “fathers” passed a 1 cent tax increase so they could get enough money to repair the streets. There have been several cases where streets have been enhanced that didn’t need repair while other continue to decline. Now daughter Debby, the younger elder, receives notice that her street will be fixed. This is great because it is a disaster. The down side is that not only will the street be widened for a not needed bike lane, a sidewalk will also be put in place. Now her house is not that far from the street now like everyone else on this street. All she has to do is sign off on the project, accept the paltry sum they have offered. What impact on property values has not been determined? Seems to me to be a crock (excuse my culinary reference). Revolt, I say!!!

Memories – Cob came by one day to have coffee with my dad. Cob was the nickname for dad’s best friend. This wasn’t an unusual event but this day was memorable. You see they always swapped one lie for a bigger one. Always teasing each other and telling stories. Typical farmer talk you know. So Cob tells the story of his old stud rooster. The story went like this as I recall. Cob went out one day and bought a brand new stud rooster for his chicken coop to replace an old rooster who was pretty much in retirement. The new rooster struts over to the old rooster and says, “OK old fart, time for you to retire for good. You should have been in retirement a long time ago.” The old rooster replies, “Come on, surely you cannot handle all of these chickens. Yes, I know rooster don’t talk, but this was Cob’s story.

Look what it has done to me. Can’t you just let me have the two old hens and three or four young hens? This will save you from having to enter retirement before your time. The young rooster says, “Beat it: You are washed up and I am taking over. Full retirement will do you good.” The old rooster says, “I tell you what, young stud. I will race you around the farmhouse. Whoever wins gets the exclusive domain over the entire chicken coop.”

The young rooster laughs. “You know you don’t stand a chance, old man. So, just to be fair, I will give you a head start.” The old rooster takes off running. About 15 seconds later the young rooster takes off running after him. They round the front porch of the farmhouse and the young rooster has closed the gap. He is only about 5 feet behind the old rooster and gaining fast. Cob, meanwhile, is sitting in his usual spot on the front porch when he sees the roosters running by. The Old Rooster is squawking and running as hard as he can. Cob grabs his shotgun and — BOOM! Cob blows the young rooster to bits and pieces — the ultimate retirement for him — long before his time. Cob sadly shakes his head and says to dad, “Dammit — third gay rooster I bought this month.”

The moral of this story is straightforward! Don’t mess with the older, retired individuals of this world. Age, skill, wisdom, and a little treachery always overcome youth and arrogance!

You know all married couples have rough spots in their marriage. Toss in things like PTSD and those spots can be rougher than usual. Well, we are no different. We were in our late 50s or early 60s and were dining at an expensive restaurant when a stunningly beautiful young woman in her late 20s came over, gave me a big kiss, and told me that she would meet with me later. Now my current wife glared at me and demanded to know, “Who is that?” “What’s the big deal?” I replied. “That’s my mistress.” “Your mistress!” snapped Sue. “I want a divorce and I want it now!” “No problem,” I said. “Just keep in mind that I have arranged that everything that I own is protected in an international corporate trust. You can sue me in divorce court but you will get very little — if anything at all.”

“What this means,” I continued, “is that there will be no more shopping trips to IKEA for you, no more wintering in the Florida, no Audi for you to drive, and no more I-Club membership and season Iowa football, men & women’s basketball tickets, women’s softball tickets for you. The decision is up to you.”

Just then Sue noticed one of our neighbors from the down the road on Hysteria Lane where we lived. “Who’s that young woman with Bill?” asked my current wife. “That’s Bill’s mistress,” I answered. “Ours is much prettier,” declared my current wife proudly.

Whatnots– Be careful when you follow the masses… sometimes the “M” is silent! Have you ever listened to someone for a while and wondered…. “Who ties your shoelaces for you?”

Do you suppose that when you’re dead, you don’t know you’re dead? It’s only difficult for others. I think it’s the same way when you’re stupid.
Being retired, working people frequently ask me what I do to make my days interesting. Well, for example, the other day I went downtown and into a shop. I was only there for about 5 minutes. When I came out there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. I said to him, “Come on, man, how about giving a retired person a break?” He ignored me and continued writing the ticket. I called him a “Nazi.” He glared at me and wrote another ticket for having worn tires. I must admit that I lost my cool. The PTSD thing kicked in, so I called him a “doughnut-eating Gestapo.” He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first. Then he wrote a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more I abused him the more tickets he wrote. Personally, I didn’t care. I came downtown on the bus, and the car that he was putting the tickets on had a bumper sticker that said “Guliani in ’08.” I try to have a little fun each day now that I’m retired. It’s important to my health.

Out of CoffeeRemember your Vietnam Veterans – All gave some, some gave all!! If I can make at least one-person smile, or laugh till they leak, then my day was not wasted. Until we meet again -TA!