The Shadow Of The Tandy Hills Thin Man Brewing Trouble With An Abrasive Ex-Wife

In 4 days, December 21, to be precise, the Winter Solstice arrives. On that day my shadow on the Tandy Hills will start to get  shorter.

Today's shadow on the Tandy Hills is so long it creates the illusion that I was wearing long pants to do my hill hiking, when I was not wearing long pants.

Changing the subject from not wearing long pants to something else.

I have been being a bit oblivious, it seems. I did not realize til this morning that Elsie Hotpepper has gone missing again. I have not heard from Ms. Hotpepper since Saturday.

When Elsie Hotpepper goes missing it usually means trouble is brewing.

Speaking of brewing trouble. This morning, on Facebook, I saw one of my Facebook Friends had written something about my ex-wife regarding my ex-wife saying something untoward about my Facebook Friend. My Facebook Friend's posting about my ex-wife prompted someone to comment with the following amusing few words....

When someone hurts you over and over, think of them like sandpaper. They scratch and hurt you, yes. But in the end you are polished. And they are useless.

I actually know several people who have been rendered useless due to being abrasive sandpaper.

Biking Gateway Park Experiencing Boardwalk Perplexations

In the picture that is my bike at the top of the stairs, under what looks like a big branch of a hangman's tree.

Those stairs and that branch of a hangman's tree are in Gateway Park in the town of Fort Worth in the state of Texas.

It has been many years since I've been able to walk down these particular stairs in Gateway Park, prevented from doing so due to the stairs being blocked by a big board with a sign that said "Close to Public."

Several "Close to Public" signs, with "Close" missing a "d" still remain in Gateway Park. And the other access points to this particular Gateway Park Boardwalk remain boarded up with "Close  to Public" signs.

I don't know why the Fort Worth Parks people don't either fix the two Gateway Park boarded up Boardwalks, or douse them with gasoline and have a big bonfire.

A big Gateway Park Boardwalk Bonfire could be a big event on the Trinity River, something that has not been done before, like the now popular Trinity River Vision Boondoggle Happy Hour Inner Tube Floats on the formerly polluted Trinity River.

Due to there being no barrier preventing me access to the formerly "Close to Public" Boardwalk, I was able to walk almost all the way to the Trinity River.

As you can see, in the picture above, this particular Gateway Park Boardwalk is in bad shape, really bad shape. The other Gateway Park Boardwalk, further downstream, is in better shape.

When the Gateway Park Boardwalks were built did no one remember that the Trinity River floods every once in awhile, with a tremendous amount of water flowing in what most of the time is a very sedate  river?

Did no one suggest that spending money on the Boardwalks was a waste because a flood would come along and seriously damage the Boardwalks?

After inevitable floods did do damage to the Boardwalks why was no attempt made to clean up the mess and repair the damage?

I see these Boardwalks as some sort of metaphor for the Trinity River Vision Boondoggle.

On a happier note, Gateway Park sure is seeming popular these days.

Is Gateway Park the most visited park in Fort Worth? I suspect it may be. Yesterday I saw thousands of motorbikes in Gateway Park. Today it appeared there was some sort of Disc Golfer Convention. Balls were flying in soccer games. I saw dozens of people on bikes, others walking and dozens of dogs in Fort Woof.

Changing the subject to my favorite one. The weather.

It is currently 72 at my location, according to my computer based temperature monitoring device. I have my windows open. There are some things I like about Global Warming. Windows open in December is one.

I tried to go swimming this morning. That did not go too well. I rather quickly ended up in the hot tub, and then back in the pool, and then back in the hot tub again.

I am not a fan of hot tubs.

I Am In A Concrete Limbo Annoyed About The American Gulag Archipelago Of Concentration Camps

This morning I read an article in this week's Fort Worth Weekly that totally disturbed me. The article is titled Concrete Limbo.

Even though what you read in this article is disturbing, I think you should read it.

Not that it will do any good that you read it, or that any good will come from FW Weekly telling this story.

I remember a time long ago when I was young and naive and thought the world was fixable, that all one had to do was make the case that something was wrong and good-hearted, right-minded people would fix it.

And then I grew up.

I am currently reading "The Prosecution of George W. Bush For Murder" by Vincent Bugliosi, he being the famous California prosecutor.

Richard Nixon had to cease being president due to way too much outrage over various things that were all wrapped together in this thing called the Watergate Scandal.

The Watergate Scandal.

Such innocents were we to turn such a thing into such a scandal. No one died due to the scandals that brought down Richard Nixon.

However, thousands of American kids are dead, due to Bush's War in Iraq. Thousands upon thousands of Iraqis are dead due to Bush's War in Iraq. Saddam Hussein could have been neutralized, was neutralized, without a war, had a wiser head been at the head of the American nation.

And yet, where were the Congressional Hearings into the Iraqgate Scandal? I am only part way into this Bugliosi indictment of that man who should never have been president and it's got me totally aggravated.

I get the idea that Vincent Bugliosi totally despises George W. Bush, and so far he is making a really good case for feeling that way.

Back to the article in FW Weekly. It is about the detention centers where those suspected of being illegally in this country are kept til their fate can be decided by a judge. These are called detention centers, but what they actually are is Concentration Camps.

To me it is just a bit shameful to have anything that smacks of a Concentration Camp in America.

Long ago I read Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's Gulag Archipelago and was appalled that such inhumanity on such a scale existed in the Soviet Union, and got worse after World War II. The Soviet citizens did not have that free speech thing us Americans have. Nor did they have mass communication available to help right a wrong.

Yet, even with America's free speech and mass communication, a lot of evil, government sanctioned, festers unfettered.

An entity called Detention Watch Network compiled a list of the 10 Worst Illegal Immigrant Concentration Camps in America. Two are in Texas.

How many of these Concentration Camps are there in America, if there are enough to have a Top Ten?

Way back in 1996, as part of a long roadtrip that started with houseboating on Lake Powell, and continued on to Taos, then Alamogordo, then Douglas, Arizona, with Douglas, Arizona being the reason I am bringing up this particular roadtrip.

Douglas is a bordertown. Across the border, in Mexico, is the much bigger town of Agua Prieta. By the time I got to Douglas, on that day's drive, I was tired and needed a motel. A 6 Motel filled that need. It was a very busy 6 Motel.

After checking in and finding my room I wandered around and saw there was a former motel next door, completely surrounded by high fence topped with concertina wire. It looked rather dire. I saw what looked like guard towers.

I went to the 6 Motel office to ask what that was next door. I was told it was a Detention Center where suspected illegals were held, and that a lot of the people staying in the 6 Motel were relatives trying to free their incarcerated relatives.

I found this all very disturbing.

But, not nearly as disturbing as the Concrete Limbo article in FW Weekly.

Other than the horrific conditions in which these people in the American Concentration Camps are kept, the thing that bothers me most is the fact that these American Concentration Camps are operated by giant, for profit, private businesses.

Even Hitler did not do anything so galling as to contract out to private business his Concentration Camps. Nor did Stalin.

Those incarcerated in the American Concentration Camps are kept there while they await a hearing in front of a judge, regarding their status. A shortage of judges causes the long incarcerations, supposedly.

Would it not make more sense to hire a lot more people to do the judging, than pay to warehouse thousands of potential innocents in American Concentration Camps?

Of course, that method would not be profitable for the private businesses running the American Concentration Camps.

I'm not going to get into how much it annoys me how much our Mexican neighbors are demonized, by some, for crossing the border into the the land that used to be Mexico, before America used a 19th Century version of an American Anschluss to gain more Lebensraum. Methinks we could be, should be, a bit more accommodating of our Mexican neighbors, even when they visit their old home without an invite.

And we certainly should not throw our totally welcome, albeit, un-invited guests, into American Concentration Camps. That is just un-American, un-friendly and un-neighborly.

And very very very stupid.

A Tandy Hills Walk Over A New Bridge While Being Detoured In Town Talk By A Fun Run

New Bridge Over Tandy River

Today I was back on the Tandy Hills for the first time since Thursday. During those couple days, between then and now, the recent freezing has delivered a death blow to the majority of the leaves on the trees.

Colorful Fall foliage is no more. Not to return until some point in time in 2013.

On Thursday on the Tandy Hills I came upon a Fort Worth Water Department crew digging up the culvert pipe that was not big enough to handle the Tandy River when it goes into flood mode.

Or when a sewer or water pipe breaks.

Today the new bridge appeared to be totally installed, which you can see above. The new culvert pipe is multiple times bigger than the old culvert pipe, which, inexplicably lies to the side of the Tandy Highway, between the orange posts that you see in the picture, and crime scene tape.

The temperature was near perfect, today, for a perfect Tandy Hills hike. I saw only one other human out enjoying this perfection. Currently, after 3 in the afternoon, this 3rd Saturday of December, it is 71 degrees. The temperature has been above 50 for a couple days. I think I may try to see if swimming works, later today.

Whilst hiking today, when I came to the location on the View Street Trail, aka, I think, the Jackrabbit Trail, that overlooks I-30, I saw two pickups parked precariously at the side of the freeway. Within the hour I figured out why the pickups were parked precariously.

Today is Fun Run Day in North Texas, that being the day, each year, when thousands of motorcycles and their drivers drive east, to Dallas (or is it Arlington?) on I-30, delivering Christmas toys to those in need of such things.

On my way to Town Talk, driving Oakland Boulevard over I-30, I saw dozens of vehicles parked on the side of the freeway, waiting for the Fun Run. This seems sort of unsafe to me, but, what do I know about what's safe?

Driving by the north entry to Gateway Park, almost to Town Talk, I saw what looked like thousands of motorbikes, assembling in Gateway Park.

Fun Run From Town Talk Parking Lot

When I have witnessed the Fun Run in years previous I saw the motorbikes coming in from the west. I remember being on the Beach Street overpass, watching the incoming motorbikes coming from the west. Was this huge throng in Gateway Park joining those already on the freeway? I have no idea.

Whilst pushing my cart amongst the Town Talk throngs I began hearing the roar of motorbikes. I walked outside to see Fort Worth police blocking traffic from Beach Street, so the phalanx of motorbikes could make it to the freeway, unimpeded by pesky motorists.

The blocked road  meant I needed to take the scenic route back to my abode, through a very interesting industrial zone of Haltom City, where I saw a herd of tiny horses, dozens of kids on dirtbikes and a lot of other vehicles forced to take this detour over a very bumpy road.

The Sweetwater Rattlesnakes Will Have Their Day

The largest rattlesnake roundup in the world takes place every year on the second weekend of March, in the Texas town of Sweetwater, out near the eastern fringes of West Texas.

I have only been to the Sweetwater Rattlesnake Roundup once. I was both amazed and appalled at the spectacle.

It  is sort of both amazing and appalling that there are so many rattlesnakes out in West Texas that every year thousands can be rounded up and murdered, with a fresh supply ready to be rounded up for a repeat the next year. And the year after. And the one after that.

The Sweetwater Rattlesnake Roundup takes place every year on the second weekend of March. The roundup begins on Thursday and ends on Sunday, so it is what is known as a long weekend.

There are those who strongly object to the Sweetwater rattlesnakes being rounded up and murdered. People like Robert Piller, from whom I got the email you see above.

Robert insists that "The snakes will have their day."

And that "If there's anyone out there that opposes this butchery and has information that might assist, then please get in touch. We intend to go global."

Robert ends his email message with...

Robert Piller
Campaign Against the Trade in Endangered Species...

Are rattlesnakes an Endangered Species? They seem sort of prolific to be endangered, but what do I know?

The Lingering Creepy Weirdness Of Fubbo The Hut

On the left you are looking at a recent photo of Fubbo the Hut.

A long time ago Fubbo the Hut was a distant acquaintance of mine.

I suffer from a syndrome known as having a Hypersensitive Empathy Complex. Years ago, due to that confounding complex, I found myself being too nice to Fubbo the Hut, due to feeling sorry for her, due to all the damage she'd done to herself, both via ingesting way too many calories and via also ingesting too much money that was not hers to ingest.

My Empathy Complex had never kicked in before for someone who was a convicted felon who had done jail time. This was new territory for me.

When it became clear to me that Fubbo the Hut's damage was all self-inflicted I found myself feeling less empathetic. That and I was more than a little offput to learn that my problem with being just too charming and amusing for my own good  resulted in Fubbo the Hut telling people I was her best friend and second husband.

Needless to say, I was mortified. Second husband to Fubbo the Hut? Like I said, mortifying.

Anyway, after over 4 years of trying to be totally rid of Fubbo the Hut, I've given up. I've decided Fubbo the Hut is like a chronic virus, or an incurable cancer, that one just puts up with as best one can.

I get emails from Fubbo the Hut, keeping me informed about her burgeoning flea market career. I must admit Fubbo's flea market career is quite astounding. Apparently Fubbo has now grown very wealthy due to having a flea market that is open once a month for a few hours. I'm guessing business schools across the world are likely studying this business model to figure out how to replicate the success.

Fubbo the Hut also continues to make the mistake of making comments on my blog, with the latest comment only recently discovered, by me, due to the comment being correctly identified, by Google, as annoying spam.

This Fubbo the Hut comment was to a blogging about Pathological Liars. I had used a classic Fubbo the Hut lie as an example of the genre, for blogging fodder. When Fubbo read this blogging, rather than own the lie, Fubbo the Hut chose to instead make the following comment, which, ironically, was full of more pathetic, pathological lies...

"I lie? Your entire life is a lie. I recently attended a reunion where I learned you are still blogging hateful things about me. Really? Is that all you've got? You are a pitiful, ugly, little man. Just so you know, people who you knew in high school know what a zero you have been in life. I am embarrassed I was ever your friend."

I really don't know where to start. But, I will try.

It totally hurts my feelings for someone who is an expert at being as ugly as Fubbo the Hut, and as pitiful, to paint me with that brush. I own a mirror, I am fully aware of how totally ugly I am. And how pitiful I am. And how little I am. I really don't need a really ugly, really fat, really pitiful woman reminding me of my ugly, little man pitifulness.

Fubbo is embarrassed she was ever my friend? Shouldn't she be more embarrassed she thought I was her best friend? And second husband?

What really impresses me is, according to Fubbo, she goes to an imaginary reunion where she has imaginary conversations with imaginary people who somehow read my blog, know the blog author is me, and know obtuse bloggings are references to Fubbo the Hut. This is a rather astoundingly ridiculous stereotypical lie from a pathological liar. I am also really impressed that Fubbo talks to imaginary people who have so accurately tracked my life that they know what a zero I have been at it. It is rather impressive for a zero at life, like myself, to have imaginary people talking about me.

Anyone, with even a passing understanding of psychology, can figure out that it is Fubbo the Hut who worries that others know she's been a big fat zero at life. A zero with a criminal record. It is obvious Fubbo mentioned attending a reunion, where I was the topic, to make me think she was referencing her class reunion, which took place last summer. What Fubbo did not know was I knew she did not attend that reunion. Did not attend, likely out of fear of someone mentioning her criminal record, or the fact that she was now a dead ringer for Jabba the Hut.

In addition to comments on my blog, Fubbo has been caught making comments on other blogs, caught by the magic of IP address tracking. The most amusing instance of this had Fubbo caught commenting her vileness anonymously, then when caught, via the IP address tracking, and made fun of, returning within an hour, to make denial comments, as Fubbo, denying ever commenting anonymously, while being so stupid she did not realize the same IP address tracking info was nailing her. At that point the pathological liar made up the lie that someone else was using her computer, making those anonymous comments.

Have I mentioned that Fubbo the Hut is stupid? Very stupid. Uneducated. Barely made it out of high school. Zero higher education. I would not say such things about someone, except, Fubbo the Hut gives herself unfiltered permission to say such things, and worse, about people, including me.

Over the years since I finally had to terminate allowing Fubbo the Hut to have direct contact with me, I have heard from many people, emailing me with questions. I think they ask me questions due to believing that I am Fubbo's best friend myth, and thus have answers, which I don't, not to all the questions, but I do to some.

For instance...

What does the Fubbo part of Fubbo the Hut stand for?

Fubbo is an acronym that stands for Fat Ugly Beast with Bad Body Odor. Yes, I realize that should make it Fubbbo the Hut, but the extra 'b' really seemed redundant. The nickname also comes from the fact that she bears a remarkable resemblance to Star Wars' Jabba the Hut. At some point in time, when Fubbo neared the quarter ton mark, her neck disappeared, consumed by the fat of her back and shoulders, which pushed her head forward, creating the Jabba the Hut look. Fubbo can not turn her head to look left or right, due to no longer having a functioning neck. I don't know how she keeps a driver's license.

On her blog Fubbo said that when she used to be thin she was into fashion. Was she actually ever thin?

I have never known Fubbo to be what anyone would consider thin. But, I have gone years, at times, without seeing Fubbo. So, she could have been thin at some point in time. I doubt it though. As for being into fashion, all I can think is how would she know what is fashionable? Let alone be into it? I've only known her to be slovenly. With really bad taste. Thus the flea market, junk dealer career, where she surrounds herself with fellow Mr. Haneys, who compliment her on her non-existent exquisite taste, while peddling re-purposed garbage.

Yes, I realize you who are reading this may be thinking what I am writing seems rather hateful. But, please refer to Fubbo's comment above where she said imaginary people had told her I was still writing imaginary hateful things about her. I really don't want to make Fubbo a bigger liar than she naturally is, and so I am trying to be a bit hateful here and thus make one of Fubbo's statements at least somewhat true.

Do you know what Fubbo did to John Bob that caused them to dump her?

The above question perplexed me. Who is John Bob I sat and wondered? I asked one of my Tacoma informants who this is. I got an answer. John Bob Cool Junk. I've met them. These are the guys who took Fubbo on her imaginary free flight to Phoenix for a free lunch, the tale of which generated the annoying comment above from Fubbo. I have no idea what Fubbo did to alienate John Bob. If history is any predictor, it likely involved Fubbo being caught in a BIG lie, or stealing something. Or both.

Do you know if Fubbo is a suspect in the mysterious death of Frank?

What? Who is Frank I wondered when I read the above question. Fubbo is now a murder suspect? I again queried my Tacoma informant. Turns out I've also met Frank. I had a few encounters with Frank and liked him. Frank despised Fubbo the Hut, accused her of stealing from him. And then ended up dead. I have no idea if this is an active homicide case, or what. Frank was a small guy. Did Fubbo sit on him?

On her blog I read that Fubbo has a group of young women lawyers, who get her, and leap to her defense when Fubbo needs defending. This was about something that happened at her show that had people taking sides for and against her. Do you know what she did?

I got an email telling me I should check Fubbo's blog to read the post referenced in the above question, with that email telling me Fubbo had gone totally into nuts mode. I just checked to refresh my memory to see Fubbo has deleted this particularly demented post. This post was far weirder than just the reference to an imaginary group of lawyers who get the incredibly difficult to get entity known as Fubbo the Hut. In the post, Fubbo had one of the imaginary lawyers sending in a Private Investigator to find out who said what about her at her flea market.  I am not making this up. Then Fubbo went off on a tangent about an uncle who molested her, giving her an STD when she was 7, after which her parents accepted  money from the uncle to keep quiet about the crime. Somehow the imaginary doctor also is convinced to keep quiet about the child with the imaginary STD.

To answer the "Do you know what she did?" question. I do not know what had people taking sides for or against her. But, as I've already said, with Fubbo the Hut, it usually involves Fubbo getting caught in a BIG lie. Or stealing. Or both.

Why is your sister involved with Fubbo and chickens?

I have absolutely no idea what my sister is doing with chickens and Fubbo. I know Fubbo has long had a chicken fixation. I remember an incident where Fubbo's chickens were left in her mother-in-law's care with the chickens all ending up dead.

Did your sisters go to Hawaii on vacation with Fubbo?

Not that I know of. I've been told about Fubbo trying get my sisters to go to Hawaii. If I remember right I blogged about this because I found it so amusing.

Fubbo is totally clueless regarding how transparent her embarrassing machinations are. She is no Machiavellian. She is more a clueless fat boob with really weird delusions. And really bad taste in all things that matter. Like knowing when to shut up. And knowing when to say she is sorry for her really bad behavior.

Have you heard anything about Fubbo getting in a fight with a homeless man in a Goodwill dumpster?

No, I have heard nothing about this. Sounds ridiculous. I  don't think Fubbo could get into a dumpster without some sort of mechanical assist, like a forklift or crane.

Fubbo told me you are homeless, living in your car. How do you get internet service in your car?

I think I have already mentioned that Fubbo the Hut is a pathological liar. I have heard from others that Fubbo tells people variations of my alleged homelessness. And that she he has gotten imaginary phone calls from imaginary people in Texas, asking Fubbo if she has the resources to help me in my imaginary dire straits, when the fact of the matter is, no one I know in Texas knows the real identity of Fubbo the Hut, let alone that lying idiot's phone number.

____________________________________

Well, that ends this amusing blogging about Fubbo the Hut. I'll be sure and share any incoming Fubbo the Hut lunacy should it occur.....

Finding Endorphins On The Tandy Hills While Thinking About Munchausen Syndrome

In the picture you are on the freeway overlook, at the far north end of the View Street trail, on the Tandy Hills, looking west at the Interstate 30 freeway, towards the stunning skyline of beautiful downtown Fort Worth.

As you can see, it is yet one more clear blue sky late Fall day in Texas, with nary any snow remaining that may have fallen on Monday.

Today I was desperately in need of some endorphin inducing aerobic stimulation, due to the fact that the Arctic Blast has kept me from swimming or hiking.

The hiking I could have done, if sufficiently insulated against the cold, but I chose not to.

Today it was warmed up enough that I was able to have myself a very long hike whilst wearing only short pants and t-shirt, what with the temperature being an almost balmy almost 60.

Changing the subject from the pleasant to the less so.

I can go weeks, maybe months, without any input or output regarding Gar the Texan. For reasons not fathomable to me, this week I've been seeing a virtual flood of Gar the Texan incoming content.

For instance,  I had no idea Gar the Texan had so many medical maladies, which require so many different specialists.

The number of Gar the Texan's medical maladies seems to be approaching the level of the entity I call Debbi, because, well, that's her name. Miss Debbi's level of nonstop medical maladies was so over the top it led me to suggest that perhaps she might be suffering from Munchausen Syndrome.

I think Gar the Texan might have Munchausen Syndrome, in addition to his other maladies..

Til this week the only Gar the Texan medical maladies that I was aware of were diabetes and Asperger Syndrome.

But, in addition to those two medical woes, Gar the Texan also goes to a hand surgeon due to something called Dupuytren's Contracture, a Peridontist due to his teeth falling out, an Endocrinologist due to the aforementioned diabetes and a Urologist who prescribed Tadalafil to help Gar the Texan's flagging flagger fly higher than half mast.

I had no idea Gar the Texan was such a mess. Had I known I may have been more sympathetic about his excessive use of cliches whilst obsessively talking about himself...

A Happy Birthday Call To My Dad While Dodging Pecans, Villy Valentin & Gar The Texan's Social Awkwardness

In the picture you are looking at the currently leafless renowned giant pecan tree that has some sort of state of Texas heritage status. This particular pecan tree is in Quanah Parker Park, a very short distance from my abode.

I took the picture of the Quanah Parker Park pecan tree and then called my dad to do the Happy Birthday thing.

On my phone, mom and dad's land line's I.D. is AZMAPA.

I expected PA to answer when I called AZMAPA, but MA answered, apparently screening my dad's Happy Birthday calls.

So, I had to relay my Happy Birthday wishes, to my dad, through my mom.

I got gas this morning, up in Hurst, so, since my mom answered, I felt obligated to tell my mom I got gas and how much it cost. $2.86. That is the cheapest gas has been in awhile in my zone.

Three of my mom and dad's grandchildren, David, Theo and Ruby, left Arizona a couple days before their grandpa's birthday. I asked how the visit with the grandkids went. I think my mom said it went fine. I'm not really remembering exactly what was said. I think I may have been dodging a falling pecan.

Changing the subject to something totally different.

Who is Villy Valentin? And why am I getting email telling me Villy has added me to a circle and has invited me to join Google+. What is a circle? What is Google+? I suppose I could Google Google+ and find out.

Changing the subject from one circle to another circle.

Long suffering Gar the Texan is stuck in a vicious circle of self-recrimination, the likes of which I feel totally inadequate to respond to, when it comes to saying anything even remotely helpful.

Apparently Gar the Texan's latest Gal Pal jumped all over his case due to getting fed up with his almost non-stop judgementalizing and over use of cliches while constantly talking about himself.

The Gal Pal getting on his case set off a bad case of Gar the Texan having one of his socially awkward episodes. I do not know the details, but I suspect he likely said things that were totally inappropriate whilst trying, desperately, to say something appropriate, and the effort just spun out of control.

On the plus side, Gar the Texan's latest Gal Pal speaks English, so the moments that spin out of control are not as frequent, or as scary, as it was with any of the Germanic Gal Pals that preceded  this current English speaking GP.

I've actually only witnessed, personally, maybe a dozen instances of Gar the Texan being socially awkward, with the worst example taking place in a Chili's bar. And then there was the bizarre argument about a river running through Shreveport.

I just remembered another incident, the memory of a painfully awkward, socially inept episode flooding back.

Gar the Texan smoking cigarettes in the now defunct Gators, trying to get a Southern Belle to say "Sugar Honey" over and over again, laughing hysterically every time she said the magic phrase. I was very uncomfortable and left soon thereafter....

A 12/12/12 Pappy Happy Birthday Greeting From Texas To Arizona

Today, December 12, 2012, 12/12/12, is my dad's Happy Birthday.

Happy Birthday, Pa.

The last time I saw my dad was March 25 of this year. An hour or so before heading to the airport I helped my Pa plant something called an Easter Egg Bush, or something like that.

I never remember to ask if the Easter Egg Bush every bloomed any Easter Eggs.

In the picture you are looking at my sister, on the left, and my dad on the right. Hidden behind my dad is my mom, making it look like my dad needs a haircut.

If I remember right the name of the town whose restaurant we were sitting in, was Surprise. I may be wrong about that. It's been over 9 months, which is a long time for me to accurately remember anything.

I do  remember I had a cheeseburger. And that the cheeseburger was not as good as the one I would have in Tempe, at an In N Out Burger, the next day. I think it was the next day.

A couple months ago if you had asked me where I would be today I would have said I would likely be in Arizona, going to my dad's Happy Birthday Party, today.

However, my annoying awareness of some relatively annoying duplicitousness had me not in the mood to book a flight to Arizona at this point in time.

I must remember to call Arizona today. My mom will be insisting my dad answer all incoming calls, with those calls likely to be Happy Birthday calls.

I hope my mom also insists my dad has his hearing aid turned on.

A Three Dog Night At 22 Degrees With CatsPaw Suggesting I Go To Hell With My Damn Character Verification & Gar The Texan's Cliches

Global Cooling deniers can't deny that it is cold in Texas this morning, well, cold, at my location in Texas. I don't know if the entire state is cold. It's a really big state.

22 degrees. Temperature prognosticators are prognosticating that today will be the coldest day of the year. According to my calculations there are still 19 days to go in this current 2012 year, so I don't know how those temperature prognosticators can be so confidently prognosticating that we won't be having an even colder day before 2013 arrives.

Al I know for sure was last night was a Three Dog Night in my bed, and with having zero dogs I had to use 4 thick blankets to keep warm.  I don't like running the furnace or A/C at night, but by about 4 in the morning I gave in and turned on the artificial heat.

Speaking of artificial heat, I got an amusing comment from the always amusing CatsPaw, to a blogging from yesterday, in which CatsPaw sort of told me to go to hell...

CatsPaw has left a new comment on your post "This Afternoon Myrtle Had Me Wondering Where The Hell Matt 2012 Is":

I noticed that Matt visited Detroit on his travels. Given the name of his site, I hope he had time to travel an hour or so west to Hell, Michigan. 

Or maybe that's a trip for Durango. You can go to Hell – get pizza and a beer at the Dam Site Inn and stop in at Hell in a Handbasket country store. Be sure to check the weather report so you don't disappoint Gar.

And hey, that damn character verification IS going to have me telling you to go to ... you know. 

CatsPaw, I turned off that damn character verification this morning. So, far, 3 hours later, no return of the evil Russian spam comments. The last time I turned the damn character verification off the evil Russian spam comments returned pretty much instantly.

In her comment CatsPaw mentioned Gar the Texan and his reliance on my ubiquitous weather  reports,  which brings up the Gar the Texan subject, which is almost always difficult.

Yesterday, or maybe it was the day before, in a blogging titled A Frigid Walk With The Village Creek Indian Ghosts Pondering The Problems Of The Troll Known As Gar The Texan I made mention of the fact that I thought the reason Gar the Texan's bloggings might be less than well received by those who receive such things was the fact that almost 100% of his verbiage is a cliche.

I feared mentioning this to Gar the Texan might cause him to go into verbal gridlock, like the time I casually mentioned that I could not help but notice that he almost exclusively talked about himself when engaged in what purported to be a conversation. I believe this resulted in weeks of Gar the Texan not speaking while he tried to figure out what to say that was not talking about himself.

I probably should have also  mentioned to Gar the Texan that I well understood why he talked so much about himself, due to the fact that he is just so darn interesting, which is the reason I don't talk about myself, that being because I am just so darn un-interesting, and am totally aware of this fact.