Hold me tight, Daddy!
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Boycott

Monday, our country is going to be marched on and our businesses boycotted. It's intended to make us realize how much we need people in our country who have the amazing talent to be able to sneak across the border.
My hope is, that when they boycott, they don't forget to boycott the Emergency rooms they clog, instead of going to Dr's office's where they would likely need insurance.
And that they don't forget to boycott:
The Dept of Social Services, and those pesky welfare checks.
The DMV, where they pick up yet another fake I.D.
The grocery stores and the use of those American made food stamps.
They need to continue to boycott using the IRS who makes off with their money for tax purposes.
The schools where the d@*"&# Americans are indoctrinating their children and feeding them with those meals. After all, absolutely anything could be in that food.
They need to put a stop to the way their kids are being taught English.
They need to continue to boycott society. For heavens sake, don't blend in.
They want to bring this country to it's knees. I know it's worked on me.

As a lad,when I played a game with a bunch of kids, and somebody cheated and refused to play by the rules, their Dad would grab them by the arm, jerk them around, and say "HEY, either play by the rules , or we're going home!!"
We need to elect some Dads, to represent us.

Two Views From the Porch. What a Difference a Month Makes!

March 20th, 2006
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April 20th, 2006
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Dan and the girls. Allison Marie is the new one.
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This is my son Dan with the women in his life. He talks about his love for these two, often.The picture was taken last Christmas. As of the 5 o'clock hour this morning, the picture is outdated. He has another woman to add to the group. He learned one important lesson from his Dad. Life is better if you marry well. He did.
Congratutlations!!
After Grandma and Grandpa get to Lincoln tomorrow, we will have an updated photo.
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Faith

Farming takes Faith. And insanity.
We are mechanically 'hiding' huge dollar amounts of seed corn and soybeans, in the ground and then covering it with even bigger dollar amounts of fertilizer and chemical. The corn and beans come up every year. They will again. Won't they?? After watching and participating in this process for more than 50 years it is easy to think of this as faith. I can get all teary eyed just thinking about it. So can my banker.
I'm sitting here looking out the window and watching the sun, light the earth. There is now enough of it to light the field. So I will go plant.
There is an old farmer joke. One farmer says, "if it doesn't rain, I'm going to have to rob a bank." The other farmer replies, "If it doesn't rain, I already have robbed a bank." I'm off to see the wizard.

Two Things

Thanks all, for your jelly bean preferences. I think I might be in the minority but just for the record: If I'm ever elected King of the world, you will only be able to buy red jelly beans. I will tax the other flavors out of existence. The black one might just carry the death penalty. I'm serious about this. Kind of.

The Kansas City Royals, our closest professional baseball team, have lost so many games and attendance is so poor, that if you call for tickets and ask what time the game starts, they will ask "Well, what time could you be here?"

Lunch break is over and it's back to the planter.

I prefer RED jelly beans. You?
And why do they make white ones?
Only at this blog will you find hard hitting, current events, like this.

I always get a little nostalgic when Easter comes around. I think back on the spring weather that comes with Easter, and the warmth, the snow melting and our old muddy lane. We would pile everyone into the Jeep to drive to the end of the lane where our car was parked. We would take it to church. We went every Sunday but Easter was special and we had on our best. It was our way of doing our part. God had given his all, so we gave ours. Our effort wasn't much in comparison, but it was an effort none the less.
Thinking back on those times, my parents believed the same thing as their parents before them, and so on. Everyone we knew back then had the same views. Views on abortion, marriage, freedoms, and rights. I also believe the same things my parents did and add the generations before them. Nothing has changed. Pretty middle of the road stuff. Right?
No, wrong. Now those same beliefs aren't middle of the road. Those beliefs are now intolerant, extreme, right wing, religious zealots. Why the nerve of us.
Truth be told, those titles are handed out, because of our beliefs. We refused to move, or be moved down the easier path. The one where if it feels good, you should be able to do it. The path where no one is responsible for themselves or their family. The path where the government is supposed to protect, and entitle, and make everyone equal and on the same low, easy to reach plane. Where it's okay to be any religion as long as it isn't Christian. The path where it's wrong to use the death penalty on a mass murderer, yet it's okay to take a full term baby and suck it's brains into a sink. That path took off to the left, went down thru the ditch, and into the field so far from the center of the road, that they can't be seen anymore. From over there in the field where they are, I'll bet it does seem that we are so far to their right, that we can't be tolerated anymore. They're not going to put up with us anymore. We are "soooo" intolerant. Uh, WE are??
All of this because we wanted to stick to our beliefs. You know, not be dummied down by society. The center won't be moved, and that folks, is the problem. Those on the left are standing knee deep in a muddy field, thinking it's the middle of the road. They're waving to us to come on out in the field.
I like it here on the road. I don't have a Jeep to ride thru the mud in, anymore.
Have a Blessed Easter.

Farm Monopoly!

This story would be better without this preface, but lest someone gets the wrong idea about farming, let me explain. I paid myself a very modest wage from my farm corporation last year. I guarantee that it was less than you or your spouse make. Even if you're retired.
I just looked, and last year I put $358,000 into my farm bank account. I paid out $356,000 in bills. It's been this way since I started farming. It's almost like we're using 'play' money. You take a piece of paper to the bank (a check) and get a piece of paper from the bank. (a paid off note ) There are no GET OUT OF JAIL FREE cards in this game. You never see any money. I now, after 35 years of hard work, am the sole owner of Baltic Avenue. With no hotels, I might add. It will cost you about $10 to land on me, but don't worry, I quit collecting rent, years ago.
This 'real' game of Monopoly requires a good banker and you must trust each other. He must know that you will do exactly as you say you will. Having said all of that....
The Story:
A couple of days ago, Marilyn and I headed to town. We stopped at the mailbox to get the mail, and then sped toward town. She opened a letter. With an excitement in her voice that would rival the Pilgrims when they spotted land, she said , "you have a corn check from Cargill." " Wow, THIRTY FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!" She looked at me, "Do we have to share this with the bank?" I smiled as big as I could and said "NO". 'We don't have to share that with the bank, they get it all."
I rolled a 5. Hmmmm... Mediterranean Avenue, man, if I only had $60.

Grandaughter Gone Bad

This is a mug shot of my 20 month old Grandaughter. She has started to spend a couple of days a week at a daycare. My son called me the other day. He was able to get away from the shop a little early and went to pick her up. The call went like this.
"Dad, I thought I'd better call you before you heard it from some other source."
"Heard what?"
"I just picked up Madilyn Rose from daycare.... they gave me an incident report on her."
"What's an incident report?"
"Well, if a child is guilty of doing something.."
"Uh Dan, she's a baby." "By the way, what'd she do?"
"She threatened a little boy."
"She's a baby, how'd she do that?"
"She had a Jack in the Box in her hand."
"Well, I guess I used to be scared of them myself."
"Says here on the report that the child was removed from the area and talked to about playing nicely with her friends."
"Dan, she's a baby."
"I know Dad."
"Dan, what are you going to do now."
"About what?"
"The report."
"Oh that, frame it I guess."

As an addendum to this: Incident reports have always been around. Those of us who grew up on country school playgrounds with K-8th graders all on the same recess break, used to get them when someone about 6 years older than you, pinned you on the ground and explained the 'rules' of play.
This girls Father (my son) got one from the Elementary Principal back when he was in school.
The Principal said: "Cliff, did Dan tell you that He and I had a visit last week".
Me:"No, what happened."
Mr C:"Well, I picked him up by the shirt collar and pinned him against the wall, and we had a face to face visit about how when he caused trouble on the school bus, it caused me trouble." "And then I told him I didn't like trouble."
Me: "Do I need to talk to him?"
Mr C: "No, we got it handled, I wouldn't do that with just anyone's kid, but I knew you wouldn't mind?"
Me: " You were right."

When the above little girl gets to the age where she crosses from needing guidance to discipline, her Mom and Dad will handle that. Her Dad, at least, has had some experience in that field. Keeping children on the straight and narrow shouldn't involve someone building a future court case with 'incident reports'. It's all about adults acting like the adults around kids.

We had a gentleman Attorney in our town, while I was growing up. He and his family were, and still are highly thought of. I want to throw in here that I went to school with his daughters, both were older than I. One of those girls is the mother of Summer Sanders of Olympic Gold Medal fame. Our little town needs to latch onto the few claims to fame that we have.
Her Grandpa Keith, the attorney, was a busy attorney, performed a lot business tax services, played golf, and he played at life. He was a friendly sort. He was kind of a man's man, if you know what I mean. He had a quick smile and was friendly to everyone in town no matter their background.
He could be seen after work walking across the street to the local pub. He would be there for a short time, to test the waters. Catch up on the gossip, buy a round, and hear the latest and best stories, and then leave.
One evening, he entered the bar where a conversation was already in progress. As he came thru the door someone says, "Hey Keith, I've decided I worry too much and I want to hire someone to do my worrying for me.... you interested in the job?"
Keith said with that sly smile, "You're always talking about how you don't have any money, how are you gonna pay me?" There was a bit of silence and the man said, "well, that can be your first worry."

Just a hint to y'all, my son Dan is working on baby names with the aid of word verification. Tell him which one you like. Okay, as you were.

Just Wondering!

I dialed a long distance number today. It was within my area code, but long distance. I forgot to dial a 1, before dialing the number. The loud, well spoken lady on the recording said, "I'm sorry, you must dial a 1 before dialing this number".
My question is, if you can build a machine to recognize that someone forgot to dial the 1, why not have it say, "Good news, you forgot to dial a 1, so I did it for you!"

Let's Kick Cliff Around!

Friday night we had some VIP's visit for supper. My Daughter and her beau, and my youngest son and his fiance'. Also two grandkids. We had a fish fry and I wanted to serve potatoes but I didn't want to fry them. This is the great idea I had. I would put those already diced up, frozen 'hashbrowns' on a large cookie sheet, and spray with non stick cooking spray, and bake them. Turned out okay but the process 1/2 browned them and 1/2 dehydrated them. They were a little crunchy.
Saturday morning, I cooked a big breakfast which included the rest of the hashbrowns. I fried them in a little oil but it didn't soften them up as I had planned. It made them even harder. I turned them dark brown. Well kind of blackish brown. Well, mostly brown, but okay, a lot of black.
Everyone was polite. Up until they tasted a mouthful. Did I mention they were crispy. They made a loud crunching sound when you chewed them that was truly amazing. My bride of nearly 35 years, the one I count on to help set a good example around our children. The one who helps me illustrate, how to treat one another verbally and physically in a long term marriage, looks at me and says, "I think you're onto something here Cliff". Waiting for the obvious upcoming compliment, I say, "how's that?" She continues, "These are exactly what I'm looking for to mulch the flower bed around the house".
They made fun of me in grade school too.

REASON # 3 TO VOTE FOR RALPH C.

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REASON # 2, TO VOTE FOR RALPH C.

Reason # 2: Ralph is adventurous. Here (on right) he is seen emerging from the jungles of darkest Africa. (yes they have lights in the jungle. DUH) He is emitting an aire of confidence here, even though just 2 minutes earlier, he had faced down an adult male lion. Well actually, Char, his wife, made him put it back on the shelf.
He is forcing a little smile even though he is in a pithy mood. Thus the helmet. You too, can vote for Ralph, a real man's man, by going to Best of Blogger and voting for Ralph C, for Sexiest Male Blogger.
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VOTE FOR ME! RALPH C!

I am doing the Public Realations work for Ralph. He has been nominated for Sexiest Male Blogger. My job is oh so easy, largely due to his travels, job, friends, and hobbies. Over the next few days, I will be taking you on a virtual tour of Ralph, the man. There is an undeniable ground swell of support building to elect this man Sexiest Male Blogger.
We will begin the tour today with a picture for the ladies. This is Ralph at the gym. Remember, Vote for Me! Ralph C. Third box down, on the right side at this site. Vote everyday, once a day.