I Don't Hate Cats And Other Items of Note

I have received some flack about my recent comments about cats. I don't hate cats. I hate war and torture and insidious diseases. Cats just come from somewhere else on the spectrum of pets. Some like their ambivalence, aloofness, and tension. I prefer the casual unrestrained devotion of dogs. Cats are OK if that's all you have. On a good day they are better than fish, snakes and birds, I guess.

I live with two cats. One is orange and one is dark brown. The orange one likes to be petted roughly, and the brown one likes to smell/lick/rub my toes and smack me when I walk by. They are fun. But I do not hate cats and hope this clarifies things and gets me out of the "dog"house.

Even a comedic novelty song sounds good from the Meat, the World's greatest singer and Sorry and Inexplicable Omission from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Recent finds at the beach: shells, conches and even some crab pincers.

Going to the beach entails hunting for treasures. Every so often it si a great day for sand dollars. Of course it helps when you take your goggles and net.

Just a cool looking bike parked on Central.

The business on the far right is a funeral home. The next business down is my doctor.

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Summer Swim

It's Monday and the start of another work week. Except for me. I have the week off because the parents of my daycare charges are taking the week off, too. This is one of those wordless posts I love on Mondays so I can put my laziness in full view of loyal readers. These pics need no words. Why muddy the waters? They were taken at the pool at Sinkhole Estates aka Death Valley. The nice thing about this pool is it is heated in winter. If one must find positives in one's situation, I suppose that is one. But, please, no more.

Re-opening Was A Hoax

Flashback Friday

Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless. Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001. It was one of those things that can generate crime: two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job. Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things. Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold. But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find. His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead. He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds. He will be paralyzed for life. None of this is pleasant. Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant

Existing In BFE

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