How old is Grandma??? Stay with this — the answer is at the end. It will blow you away.

One evening a grandson was talking to his grandmother about current events. The grandson asked his grandmother what she thought about the shootings at schools, the computer age, and just things in general.

The Grandma replied, "Well, let me think a minute, I was born before:
television, penicillin, polio shots, frozen foods, Xerox, contact lenses, Frisbees and the pill

There was no: radar, credit cards, laser beams or ball-point pens.

Man had not invented: pantyhose, air conditioners, dishwashers, clothes dryers! ... and the clothes were hung out to dry in the fresh air and man hadn't yet walked on the moon.

Your Grandfather and I got married first, and then lived together. Every family had a father and a mother.

Until I was 25, I called every man older than me, "Sir". And after I turned 25, I still called policemen and every man with a title, "Sir."

We were before gay-rights, computer- dating, dual careers, daycare centers, and group therapy.

Our lives were governed by the Ten Commandments, good judgment, and common sense. We were taught to know the difference between right and wrong and to stand up and take responsibility for our actions.

Serving your country was a privilege; living in this country was a bigger privilege.

We thought fast food was what people ate during Lent.

Having a meaningful relationship meant getting along with your cousins.

Draft dodgers were people who closed their front doors when the evening breeze started.

Time-sharing meant time the family spent together in the evenings and weekends-not purchasing condominiums.

We never heard of FM radios, tape decks, CDs, electric typewriters, yogurt, or guys wearing earrings.

We listened to the Big Bands, Jack Benny, and the President's speeches on our radios. And I don't ever remember any kid blowing his brains out listening to Tommy Dorsey.

If you saw anything with 'Made in Japan ' on it, it was junk.

The term 'making out' referred to how you did on your school exam.

Pizza Hut, McDonald's, and instant coffee were unheard of.

We had 5 &10-cent stores where you could actually buy things for 5 and 10 cents.

Ice-cream cones, phone calls, rides on a streetcar, and a Pepsi were all a nickel. And if you didn't want to splurge, you could spend your nickel on enough stamps to mail 1 letter and 2 postcards.

You could buy a new Chevy Coupe for $600, . . . but who could afford one? Too bad, because gas was 11 cents a gallon.

In my day: "grass" was mowed, "coke" was a cold drink, "pot" was something your mother cooked in and "rock music" was your grandmother's lullaby. "Aids" were helpers in the Principal's office, " chip" meant a piece of wood, "hardware" was found in a hardware store and "software" wasn't even a word.

And we were the last generation to actually believe that a lady needed a husband to have a baby. No wonder people call us "old and confused" and say there is a generation gap.. and how old do you think I am?

I bet you have this old lady in mind...you are in for a shock! Read on to see — pretty scary if you think about it and pretty sad at the same time.

This woman would be only 58 years old!

It's a trap! Don't touch the beer!

It's official - I am ever so slightly, but officially, closer to sixty than I am to fifty now. It's not that big a deal to me though. I generally round my age up to the year I am working on rather than the one I left behind anyway - unless maybe when a pretty girl asks my age (yeah, like that happens to me all the time). Then I tend to fumble my words and regress to something resembling a four year old going on five and proudly say something like "I'm fifty five and a half, maam". Just kidding if you're reading this, mom....


I could have it worse at my age though(okay for sure, it could be a lot better too), but still, when pressed to choose a gift for me on those gift themed days of the year, mom and the kids are still buying me bike shorts and bicycle accessories or I am getting Bike Barn gift cards in the mail in my birthday cards. This year, I spent it all on clip in pedals and shoes of the same brand as my fishing reel - Shimano.
After treating myself to new pedals and shoes that basically clamp your feet to the bicycle, I put it all up on the trainer and learned to break out of the pedals. Better there than in a busy intersection, huh? After I "mastered" that I put her on the local park trail. I made two laps and promptly stopped and forgot my feet were locked to the pedals and fell straight over sideways, like I had planned it that way. I didn't look around to see who was watching as I remounted and rode away. Foolish and comic strip goofy as my stop/fall must have looked, I rode off grinning ear to ear. I can't believe the difference those pedals make in my bike riding(no, I'm not talking about the negative score on the first dismount).
I suppose I should really be thankful I am still on two wheels, especially in the fore and aft configuration, and not side by side with a chair in between them!

Like I said though, age really isn't something I dwell on, at least so far. Maybe once a few more things start to hurt after I've been outside playing, I'll start to change my tune.

On the other hand, I did notice that while replacing my kitchen faucet this weekend, that the old torso doesn't quite fit under the sink/dishwasher like it used to. The downside to that, is that there isn't quite as much room among the hoses and pipes to maneuver under there as there once was. The upside, on the other hand is actually similar in nature. When I popped a hose off the faucet and flooded my face, there wasn't enough wiggle room to flinch and hit my head on the p-trap or the disposal. Consequently, while not really getting hurt (unless you count the neck and back pains afterward), I was forced to lie there, flailing my legs and everyone within earshot was treated to a taste of what I once was taught in the way of crewboat/tugboat/dredgeboat engine room language.

Okay, the question was do you view the glass as half empty or half full?

When I got to the office this morning and someone asked "how ya feelin'". My response was "like a million bucks". Coulda been the coffee talking though, because there's mornings where when I say "like a million bucks", and I really mean I feel green, wrinkled, well handled and like everyone wants a piece of me......

A mechanic was carefully removing a cylinder head from the motor of a Harley when a well-known cardiac surgeon came into his shop.
The surgeon waited politely for the mechanic to finish what he was doing before asking him to look at his own bike, when the mechanic lifts his head up and sees him, and calls him over: "Hey, doc, look at this here engine. I open its heart, take valves out, fix 'em, put 'em back in, and when I finish, it works just like new. So how come I get such a small salary and you get the really big bucks, when you and I are doing basically the same work?"


The surgeon smiled: "Try doing it with the engine running."

This 80 year old woman was arrested for shop lifting.
When she went before the judge in Cincinnati he asked her,
"What did you steal?" She replied, "A can of peaches."

The judge then asked her why she had stolen the can of peaches
and she replied that she was hungry. The judge then asked her
how many peaches were in the can. She replied 6.

The judge then said, "I will then give you 6 days in jail."

Before the judge could actually pronounce the punishment, the
woman's husband spoke up and asked the judge if he could say
something. The judge said, "What is it?"

The husband said, "She also stole a can of peas."

My friend and blogging colleague, opted out on this one, I'm sure, because of how it has been sensationalized and shoved down our throats for so long. i can see his point, but........

I'll say something - speaking as a father.

As tragic as the death of that child was, and for as much as it has been tabloid fodder for ten years, hopefully it will serve to point out that children are children, not objects to be paraded around in dancehall outfits in front of perverts posing as teachers, softball coaches, and pageant photographers. Children are to be lovingly raised and taught to be kids first, THEN adults. Kids are not for display or for vain parents to live vicariously through as a second chance for wannabe major leaguers or has been beauty queens.

JonBenet Ramsey should have been sixteen this year.

The old "Friday Night Lights" can in the coke cup trick.

.......But then if you grew up in Tyler (Smith County) or as a Llano Baptist preacher, you already knew this one.

Tyler is a good example of the type of example our government sets for the younger generation. It sits square in the middle of Smith County - a DRY county. I spent a few months working up there a couple of years back. First thing I noticed, after finding out that I had to drive twenty miles for a bottle of Chardonnay, was that there were "clubs" of all types, around town. I asked one of the locals, what's up with that, thought this is a dry spot? he explained the concept of "private clubs", plenty of them I might add. When I asked what you had to pay or do to join, I was told "show 'em yer I.D.

That said, I'm not the club or beer joint type, and as much as I hated driving out every week to work out of town till the weekend, and as much as I missed tucking in the kids every night, I read more books in that short spell than I've read in the last twenty years.

At any rate, I'm certainly glad to know the difference in a how a dry Bible Belt county works to keep out the drinking crowd, as opposed to a "wide open place" like say, Victoria, where all you have to do is.... show 'em yer fake I.D.......

Which brings up the question, if it's illegal to drink and drive, why do beer joints have parking lots?

Don't look now, but we have company circling our sun. What, you didn't see them? That might be because they are nothing more than ice balls about the size of the ones that form when a 747 empties it's crapper at 37,000 ft. I hope this little discovery wasn't financed with gov't funds, you know, the kind that could have been spent on a $275.00 screwdriver or a $1200.00 toilet seat or to pay Halliburton.

If they want to spend my money on outer space, I want to see stuff like this:


Otherwise, they can go stare at the

Has anyone else noticed that an inordinate number of "miracles" seem to occur in San Antonio? I suppose it could just be a proportionate thing, relative to the number of parishoners requiring a "sign" in order to keep the tithing at an acceptable level.

The miracle du jour happens to be a Red Oak, supposedly with a flow of pure water, some say even containing
"healing" properties. The owner of the property, according to news reports claims the necessary test to determine if the water is from a natural source, would be too expensive. I say a cheap pool testing kit for chlorine content should do the trick, although a chain saw or a sharpshooter shovel would be much quicker.

While the chainsaw might cut significantly into the amount of shade provided from the tree, I think putting a faucet on the stump and bottling the water would more than finance the amount needed for a nice red, green and white palapa with celing fans to keep to keep the lines of the faithful comfortable.

Who knows, if the cut was made at the proper angle, maybe an image of you know who, or his mom, or even Henry Cisneros might appear in the rings of the fallen oak! eBay here we come.....

Sorta reminds me of the line from the Guy Clark Taco Cabana spot- "y'all got a fajita bush out back?" Now show me a tree with a steady flow of Jose Cuervo, and we'll really be able to compete with those cigarette bushes out in Virginia, Slim.....

My boss called this A.M. from the airport in Cleveland(better him than me - I did Pittsburgh), to check on his subjects. Jokingly, I queried him as to whether they had confiscated his Ozarka bottle filled with Grey Goose. He laughed and took it as intended, coming from me, and said that it really wasn't that much of a disruption, except for dealing with having them confiscate his lip gloss and Lola wig.

Just kidding boss.

Truth is, I have wondered since 9/11, why some Muslim fanatics haven't boarded a 747 with a spring water bottle of Everclear and filled the head(that's the restroom for you landlubbers) full of alcohol soaked *** gaskets, toilet paper, hand towels and a crumpled up Wall Street Journal. Maybe there's something in the mujahadeen handbook that requires that martyrdom be instantaneous.........as opposed to a slow burning thing that allows time for a flaming religious conversion and a run back up the aisle trying to remember the Arabic translation for "stop drop and roll".

The saddest and most pathetic part of all of this is that had just a fraction of the expense of our not so mildly retarded leader's personal vendetta on a dictator that his dad couldn't conquer, has cost so far, been spent on homeland security instead, by a leader with just a shred of common sense and a mild grip on technology (vocabulary would be helpful as well), we would be in a far better finiancial position as a nation, and certainly not as reviled in the eyes of most of the rest of the world.

I'm sure that there are plenty of parents, widows and fatherless children, who given the choice of feeble flag waving and limp dick patriotic attempts at justifying the loss of a loved one to this farce, would much rather have dad at their side at the dinner table or in the bleachers at a ball game or graduation or a wedding.

It's simple really. It's not our fight. The Bush boys have tried to make it seem so, but it was going on centuries before anything but naked natives roamed where the WHITE house now stands. It's not our fight!

I realize this election year is a mid term thing, but hang in, and make your votes count next time.

Maybe Kinky will be on the ballot by then. Wouldn't that be a subtle message to the radical Muslim faction.........

Change My Name?

Just a thought here. I have been trying to keep up with this little storyboard/sound-off soapbox/commentary spot for a while now, the better part of a year. I have decided to abandon the anonymity thing - writing as Captain Boots' Pilot. I came up with that monniker as a tribute to Captain Boots Cupps. He was a mentor and a friend as well as a father figure to me. He taught me so much, so fast, about big boats and navigating - using a sextant, way before G.P.S. devices were but an idea. On a clear day, he showed me how to navigate in a fog, using a compass and a stopwatch. He taught me to make a towboat up to a barge and how to move the behemoth thing from point A to point B, without destroying so much as a cane pole marking my route. I have lived three lives and been near death a time or two since I knew Boots, but he made enough of an impression on me, that when pressed to pick a pen name as opposed to hanging my true identity out for God knows who to have a field day with, I opted to honor him by picking his name as a cover.

I am a city boy by choice and a Pirate/bay rat from Seadrift and Calhoun County with an all too brief, ten year stint studying life, in Austin, prior to moving to this city. I decided that it's time to hang it out for all to see, and drop the CBP from my blog, and let those who know me for who I am and who I was, have a go at me - to stir the pot, so to speak. It's not like I have killed anyone, have any outstanding warrants, or serious skeletons in my closet, but by virtue of being a teen and young man in the village where I was raised, and at the period in time I was there, and kicking up my heels in Vic, there is bound to be a person or two who will read who's back in town and will start looking for his shotgun, (metaphorically speaking, I hope).

That's it. Who knows, maybe I'll even pause long enough to let someone snap a pic to replace the nine year old photo with one showing the greying beard, long thinning mane, and just a bit more girth. Or not..........

A preface here, to replace my first title - Kelli, you may have kids one day. If you do and they are in Big D, you may have to re-evaluate the sport born in Cooperstown. Tolerance, please -it beats doing drugs or........soccer.

Our home team looked good(actually sounded good), tonight, as I was pounding keys and taking in just the audio. Backe's back, the wild card slot is still within reach, and there's still a couple of months to go.

Top that off with Katy National Little League knocking on my door for the upcoming fall league, and the fact that this old Mickey, Yogi, and Ozzie & Stan the Man fan, is feeling young again.

Probably all it will take to bring me back to earth now, is to endure the balance of the Astro's season, or to get my butt dragged over the coals by yet another gaggle of bloodthirsty Little League parents who are all certain that I will be the sole reason their son is not an all star pitcher - all eleven year old, 4'-2", sixty five pounds of him.

My baaaaaad. I really do love baseball - and the kids. When the smoke clears and the trophies are passed out sometime after Halloween, I'll likely not be dealing with the parents anymore. On the other hand, if I run into Tyler or Brittney or Austin or Caleb in Randall's or at the mall, and they light up when they see me, and I get a "hi coach Mike" and a sweet ear to ear grin, I'll be back in the front of the line at registration next spring, with my volunteer form and background check form.............

Well looks like the jury is still out on the latest little bogey on the radar screen in the ongoing saga of record oil company earnings/rising gasoline, plastics & heating oil prices. When the busted pipe first came to light, it was met with speculation of an impending price rise at the pumps, along with a fuel shortage or heating oil price hike in the upcoming winter.

What amazes me is the knee jerk reactions by the stock market and retailers, to just about anything that can be remotely construed as possibly having an impact on gas prices. Strip my gears and call me shiftless, but what happened to kicking back and waiting for the impact to actually manifest itself as a problem before sending Mustafa out to the Sinclair sign with a new set of bigger numbers? Seems like they are a hell of a lot slower to pull down the .99s than to put them up when there is a rare month of calm in the oil patch.

I actually heard today that there has yet to be a price spike in reaction to the little pipeline problem up on the slope. I think the other shoe is yet to fall on this one. Likely they are just looking for a place to drop it where it will have the most positive impact on their bottom line. I'll not rag solely on one oil company on this one, but in the wake of this latest problem, and the recent revelation of record profits by the oil companies, don't you think that in addition to upgrading their refining capabilities(and keeping my kids in lunch money and school supplies and go-kart brake shoes), that they might want to invest just a bit in preventative maintenance on their infrastructure, and maybe try to protect the environment and keep Greenpeace at arm's length?

Okay, now at the risk of biting the hand that feeds me, I'll take a little swipe at the proprietor of the plant at Green Lake, formerly known as Vistron. After a couple of fireworks shows, which claimed a few lives in their plants, talk in the cubicles in the biz was that their initials stood for "Bang Petroleum" or "Boom Plant". I guess now, we can add "busted pipes" to the list, huh? Oh, and let's not forget "Ballooning Profits".......

Maybe one day in the future, when we learn to conserve and optimize the green energy sources provided for us, their acronym will stand for budget plastics(hey, plastic fibers are cooler'n real fur), and you can't extract it from the sun or the wind. Besides, there isn't enough acreage left to grow trees for real wood to support the needs of the current inhabitants without depleting the forests we need for photosynthesis and oxygen generation to sustain life here on the surface. Plus, the re-alignment should benefit the industry, at least for honest producers, and excluding middlemen and skimmers, assuring continued jobs in that field, but more importantly, getting a bit more mileage and a better quality of life from this planet we inhabit.

Now, how's that for straddling the fence kids?

Or maybe we can just throw caution to the wind and suck this green orb flat as a dodge ball in a rose hedge. Who'll know after we're gone?

Any thoughts on Coach Mike's rambling commentary?

A public service tip here for my friend Abe. Okay, not so much for you, but for the ones who want to to add some flair to opening their "pop" (yeah right, how many twist off metal coke caps are there these days) - let's face it - cerveza bottles. Take your Coors Light, wipe off the condensation from the cap, and push the cap up firmly against the underside of your forearm(the hairless side for those of us who left the apes way behind). Giv'er a twist(lefty loosey or c-c for the tech-nerds) and viola! the top will grip the skin(of those who find time to shower at least bi-weekly) and pop right off, (sticking to the skin, to be plucked off as an exclamation point to your little exhibition)leaving the pearly whites intact to chew that jerky, sinewy brisket and overcooked fried shrimp. I have met ladies who could do this as well(including one or two with an interesting variation on this technique). Bottom line........today's surgical implants (dental - forget the ladies inference here) can do wonders to correct a lifetime of bad drunken habits and neglecting one's dental hygiene. Tomorrow, it would be nice to have that money in your bank account for a lift ticket in Jackson Hole, at A-Basin or Squaw Valley, or to dump into your son or daughter's account up in College Station or Austin, or down at UHVC.

Story caught my eye about a little old lady in Ohio. Seems 74 year old Pat Niple and her late husband, for years, had owned a business, Northwood Tree Farm and that she had reflected her business name in her personalized license tags. Problem is, her last attempt to register by mail was rejected and her check returned. She was tripped up by an acronym.........

I'm guessing some young IMer in the Ohio license bureau is responsible for this one. Poor lady had to have a licensing clerk explain to her that to some, her tag might stand for Now what the F....

My guess is that after being informed that the plate was history, someone also tipped her off not to bother re-applying with her last name on the tag,
or with NIP, NIPL, or any variation thereof. Tax dollars still hard at work.

I sit here at work, quitting time drawing near. I reach in my shirt pocket to have a look at one of my personal journals. Actually, it's a wad of bits of paper and cards about an inch thick, all full of notes to myself, ideas, brain children, phone numbers and such.

First one I pull out of the pile has three things on it:

1. owe Louie $85

2. Call girls

3. 3-Way.........
At first glance, one would think that after Louie is paid, I'm in for a rowdy time, eh?
The term "call girls" will likely be lost on the younger generation, but us older folk recognize it as ladies of the evening. Hmmm. Obviously I associate with owe a guy named Louie, and owe him eighty five bucks. I think the "three way", taken in the wrong context, speaks volumes, don't you?

Guess it's a good thing I didn't drop this scrap of paper on the floor of my cubicle and have my boss find it.......although his name is Louie, and he's from N.Y and I've known him for years. He'd probably have spent an hour trying to remember how long I've owed him eighty five bucks.

Now for the explanation. Louis is a friend - a high school age expatriate Canuck, an all star hockey player, and who as a good friend of the family, I entrusted with the care and well being of my boys while mom and I paid the bills this summer - $85 - day care.

Call girls - a reminder to call my boys'same age girl cousins to invite them for a week in the city and a change of scenery from Six Mile summer days. (they all had a blast, and ran mom and I ragged - 2+2 does not equal 4 when adding tweenagers, try TEN)

Three way - simply put.....50, 100, 150 watt bulb for my desk lamp. Not nearly as much a strain on the old heart as what some of you may have suspected......

An innocent piece of scrap paper to me, but it might have raised an eyebrow or two if the wrong person had found it.

At least this list was fresh enough in my mind to be decipherable by myself. Actually, most are, but occasionally, I find that note to myself, that either looks like Greek to me or puts me in a panic when I realize I'm a month past due on something important. Maybe it's time to follow Cleric's lead and do the digital voice recorder or PDA thing - or at least take a clue from Kelli, and pick up a Moleskine journal so I'll have something new in my backpack.....