Chamblee54

There is this really neat blog called D***CoolPics. I like to have a no profanity blog. Even though the D word is borderline, I prefer to err on the side of caution.
Back when “Gone with the Wind” was made, there was some hand wringing about the use of the D word. In those days, Hollywood flicks were heavily censored. Cooler heads prevailed, and when Rhett Butler told Scarlett O’Hara what he thought about her future, he said the D word.
When you give a D***, do you gift wrap it?
Back to DCP. I don’t know who the perp is, but this is a remarkable selection of images. As some of you know, images are a bottomless pit. I have several hundred images in the que for inclusion in my blog, and that doesn’t include the tsunami of shots from around the internet.
Today, the subject is funny road signs. I suspect photoshop is the true source of some, but they are still fun.
And, as a bonus, there is the sand hotel. It is in Great Britain, has no ceiling, and will last until the next rainstorm. At $21 a night, it is a bargain. And, there is no flashing neon sign.

PG just can’t make it through the weekend without trouble of some kind.
The man doesn’t like to watch TV, but makes some exceptions. Today there were some projects to work on, and a video in the background would fit right in. He chose “The Best of the Johnny Carson show“, and it was great. Ed Ames threw the tomahawk at the cardboard indian, Dom DeLouise made a spectacle of himself, and Ed McMahon laughed. The problems started when PG had to take his brother to the train station. He put the tape on pause, instead of hitting stop. When he got back the tape was ruined.
On the way back from MARTA, PG stopped at a yard sale. Two dollars and a lot of talk later, PG took home 4 videos ( Williard, Free Jack, Fatal Attraction, and Apollo13), a cd carry case, and a gaudy silver plated icon. The lady said it was her grandfather’s house, and they did not want to pack anything.
When he got home, PG discovered the damage to Johnny, and put in “Midnight Cowboy“. Just when Joe Buck was about to hook up with Sylvia Miles, PG decided to turn up the sound. The box went quiet. After a few minutes of experiments, PG decided the vcr was toast.
By now, it was time to go to the chamblee library. There were five cd’s due back in two days. After an experience at the brookhaven library, PG knew to get a check in receipt for the cd’s.
Two years ago, PG took some cd’s home from the brookhaven library. A couple of weeks after he took them back, he got a call from the library system saying he needed to return “Shake your Booty“. It seems like the clerk checking in the cd’s overlooked that one. Why that embarrassing title was the one at issue is a mystery. At any rate, PG went to the library, found “Shake your Booty“, and all was well.
Today, at the Chamblee library, PG found a novel by Carl Hiassen that he had not read. This is like finding a twenty dollar bill in an old pair of pants. On his way home, he went back to the yard sale, and found a vcr. This old man had appeared, and would not take less than three dollars for the vcr. PG and the old man had a delightful chat about the neighborhood. The old man bought a house near there for $66 a month in 1951, and wondered how he would be able to make the payments.
PG met a friend for dinner at the Piccadilly Cafeteria. While waiting in front, a car with a handicap sticker pulled up, and had to discharge passengers and go park. The three handicap parking places were full.
Returning home, PG plugged in the recently purchased vcr and turned it on. Nothing happened. Again, there was a search for a fuse, it was plugged into a different outlet, a useless old tape was forced into the box. Still, nothing happened. PG was dismayed.
He looked at the vcr that had broken down earlier that day. There was this place to plug in patch cords, to connect the audio portion of the box to a stereo. PG found an old patch cord, plugged the vcr in to the tv, with the audio portion playing to the stereo. He put in a tape of Jimi Hendrix, and had music coming out of the stereo.
Spell check suggestion for this feature:
DeLouise- delouse

Afghanistan stays in the news. A major source of opiates, Afghanistan is one of the wildest places on earth. Guarding the historic trade routes between Europe and India, The Hindu Kush is home to some of the fiercest soldiers on the planet.
In 1979, the Soviet Union decided that it wanted a war with Afghanistan This conflict lasted ten years, and the Mighty Soviets lost. This was during the Cold War,and the United States wanted to do everything it could to hurt the Soviets, whom it considered an enemy. The Afghani forces fighting the Soviets received much aid from the United States, which was very helpful in its ultimate success.
The defeat in Afghanistan was a factor in the dismantling of the Soviet Union that happened soon after. Soon, the rebel factions began to fight each other for the right to rule the country, using the weapons given them by the United States. Eventually the Taliban won, and set up shop.
On September 11, 2001, The United States was attacked. Credit for the attack was given to Al Queda, which was based in Afghanistan To avenge this attack, Afghanistan was invaded by the United States. We are still there.
This feature is not about the wisdom of attacking a fierce people, for the purpose of revenge. It is not about the future of our occupation there, or in neighboring Iraq. It is about the Olympics.
In 1996 Atlanta hosted the Olympics. On the last day of the games, the Men’s Marathon was run.
The Marathon course went out Peachtree from downtown, and turned around near the end of the 23 Oglethorpe busline, in front of the funeral home. It then turned right, and went down Lanier Drive beside Oglethorpe University. It went down the street a couple of blocks, turned around in front of Oglethorpe Presbyterian Church (a former employer of mine), and came back to Peachtree. The runners turned right, and ran to the Olympic Stadium.
Being the slack person that I am, I had not gotten tickets to any Olympic events. The Marathon was a free event, and was walking distance from my residence. This was my last chance.
When I got there, I was amazed at the instant community that had assembled along the course. This remarkable event was almost over, and this was all I was going to see of it! The fact that it is more than many others saw was little comfort.
I walked alongside the course, and crossed Lanier Drive. This is important to the rest of the story.
The runners were a bit of an anticlimax. A pack of men in track uniforms, with the leaders in a bunch at the start. They ran past, went to the end of the course, down Lanier Drive, and hustled down Peachtree to the end of the race.
After the second appearance of the bulk of the runners, I was ready to go. However, there was a glitch. One runner was way behind the rest of the pack, and I could not cross Lanier Drive until he had gone by, and the course was opened for pedestrian traffic.
The last runner was from Afghanistan
After a few minutes, he appeared. He had a large bandage on one leg, which apparently had been injured.
He finished the race.
I could not run 26 miles if I was 100 percent. The Afghan ran the marathon with an injured leg, albeit 20 minutes behind the rest of the pack.

PG was abandoning the periods in his name once and for all. It was just too much trouble, and besides it implied that PG stood for something. After all, the S in Harry S Truman did not stand for anything. Harry S Truman was a fine President who only started one war.
PG knew one thing for sure, he was tired of serious subjects. There is just too much seriousness in the world. Besides, Sears had merged with K Mart, and closed that fabulous outlet store on Buford Hiway.
PG started collecting jokes, and other things that caught his eye. One of them was a blond joke, courtesy of yellowdoggrannie.
A blind man and his guide dog enter a Bar and find their way to a bar stool. After ordering a drink, and sitting there for a while, the blind guy yells to the bartender, “Hey, you wanna hear a blond joke?” The bar immediately becomes absolutely quiet. In a husky, deep voice, the woman next to him says, “Before you tell that joke, you should know something. The bartender is blond, the bouncer is blond and I’m a 6′ tall, 200 lb. blond with a black belt in karate. What’s more, the woman sitting next to me is blond and she’s a weight lifter. The lady to your right is a blond, and she’s a pro wrestler. Think about it seriously, Mister. You still wanna tell that joke?” The blind guy thinks a moment and says, “Nah, not if I’m gonna have to explain it five times.”
The event which put the peroxide in the bottle for this post involved an inactive blog. Now, there are supposedly a hundred million or so blogs in existence. Of those, maybe a hundred are actively posting. The rest go into nogoblogland. One of these inert bandwidth vampires is Jokesandhumoronline. And sure enough, in their farewell post, they had a blond joke.

The Blond Bird Lover
You were the sexy blond woman at the Marina Safeway last night at about 6:30. Well, I guess technically you entered the store at 6:27 and left at 6:48 (I like detective shows). I was the guy in the poultry section who kept lifting the frozen chickens out of the freezer, holding them above my head, screaming ?be free? and then dropping them on the ground. A few weeks ago, I saw a story on Dateline about a boy who had fallen through the ice and been declared dead when his nearly frozen body was pulled from the lake, only to be resuscitated minutes later. You can see where this is going; we know the chickens are frozen, but are they really dead? My role here may seem purely humanitarian, but it?s also practical. Who wants to buy a chicken, take it home and then realize they suddenly have a new pet? Anyway, I could tell by the way you were looking at me that you liked the cut of my jib. If you remember, I asked you your name and you said “I. Carrie Mace.” Cool name. Kind of like the architect, I.M. Pei, I guess. But you left so suddenly, I couldn?t get your number. Coffee?

So Carrie White married a man named Mace. PG hopes they are happy together.
Back when PG was working at Redo Blue, there was a memo from management. It seems that people were writing unhelpful emails on company computers. The thoughtful management issued a list of subjects that were not appropriate for emails from company computers. Along with race, religion, and national origin, employees were not to send emails about hair color.
When PG was a child, his mother told him about a song. The lyrics fascinated PG for years, until he found them online. He also found out that this song sometimes was about Gladys, but usually was about Alice.

Alice, where are you going? “Upstairs to take a bath.”
Alice, with legs like toothpicks and a neck like a gira-a-a-a-afe.
Alice, into the bathtub, pulled out the plug and then.
OH MY Goodness, OH MY SOUL,
there goes Alice down that hole. Alice, where are you going?
Glub, Glub, Glub.
Last but not least, there is this heartwarming tale. This was sent out as an email, and did not mention hair color.
A TRUE SOUTHERN LADY………..A very gentle Southern lady was driving across the Savannah River Bridge in Georgia one day. As she neared the top of the bridge, she noticed a young man fixing to jump. She stopped her car, rolled down the window and said, ‘Please don’t jump, think of your dear mother and father.’ ‘Mom and Dad are both dead; I’m going to jump.’ ‘Well, think of your wife and children.’ ‘I’m not married and I don’t have any kids.’ ‘Well, think of Robert E. Lee.’ ”Who’s Robert E. Lee?” ”Well bless your heart, just go ahead and jump, you dumb ass Yankee..

I read an item at yellowdoggrannie’s place this morning. It was a link to a video about the writing of the Star Spangled Banner. YDG said it made her cry. It set off my BS detector.
I am not a history buff. I do know that the War of 1812 was not the most glorious part of American History.
In 1812, Napoleon was on a rampage, but about to screw it up. He invaded Russia on June 24, just six days after the U.S. Congress gave approval to “Mr. Madison’s War”.
According to St. Wikipedia, the declaration passed by the smallest margin of any war declaration in American History.
The War was caused by several things. The British were “impressing” sailors for duty in their Navy. Among the deserters and British subjects were some Americans.
The British were supporting the Native Americans who were fighting the white man. There was also some talk about Annexing territory in Canada, either to keep or to use as a bargaining chip with the British.
On the East side of the Atlantic, England had a change of government at this time, towards a regime that wanted peace with America. This being the early nineteenth century, word of this development did not make it to America in time to stop the War.
The War went on for a couple of years. It distracted the British from fighting Napoleon, and was a strain on the Young American republic. In the Summer of 1814, negotiations were underway to end the conflict. The British launched a few military campaigns to put pressure on the U.S.A. Washington D.C. was captured and burned. The next move was the capture of Baltimore.
This is where the video begins its tale. Where the video said hundreds of British ships, Wikipedia says 19. An attorney, Francis Scott Key, was negotiating the release of an American POW. He secured his release, but they could not leave until the bombardment of Fort McHenry was complete.
Here is an account of the story:
At Fort McHenry, some 1,000 soldiers under the command of Major George Armistead awaited the British naval bombardment…. The attack began in the evening of September 13, as the British fleet of some nineteen ships began pounding the fort with Congreve rockets (from rocket vessel HMS Erebus) and mortar shells (from bomb vessels HMS Terror, HMS Volcano, HMS Meteor, HMS Devastation, and HMS Aetna). After an initial exchange of fire, the British fleet withdrew to just beyond the range of Fort McHenry’s cannons and continued to bombard the American redoubts for the next 25 hours. Although 1,500 to 1,800 cannonballs were launched at the fort, damage was minimal.
After nightfall, Cochrane ordered a landing to be made by medium boats to the shore just west of the fort, away from the harbor opening on which the fort’s defense was concentrated….Operating in darkness and in foul weather, the diversionary attack failed. On the morning of September 14, the 30 ft (9.1 m) × 42 ft oversized American flag, which had been made a few months before by local flagmaker Mary Pickersgill and her 13 year old daughter, flew over Fort McHenry, and Cochrane and Brooke knew that victory had eluded them
Mr. Key saw the flag the next day. He wrote a poem to the tune of a British drinking song, “To Anacreon in Heaven”. The song was made the National Anthem in 1931, and has been (badly) sung ever since.
On September 24, the Treaty of Ghent ended the conflict. The verdict was “status quo ante bellum”. In other words, nothing was changed by the death of those men.
The word of the treaty did not reach America for a few weeks. The Battle of New Orleans was fought after the end of the War.
The video said the Flag at Fort McHenry was held up through the night by men, many of whom died. This might be true. It is also true that the negotiations were about to yield fruit. It would take a few weeks for word of the Battle of Baltimore to reach Europe, at which point the War was already over. Status Quo Ante Bellum.

A few months ago, I put a post up about George Carlin. I am going to repeat myself in a minutes, but not before I ponder a line in the original story. “At this point, a look at wikipedia is in order. I was wondering if Mr. C was alive, or if I somehow missed something.”
I was only a marginal fan of Mr. Carlin, but I admire a man who succeeds. The fact that he was a success, and could hang on to his integrity, is sweet. With his lifestyle, making 71 is pretty good.
As for wondering if I missed something, I do that all the time. Through a bit of internet curiosity last night, I found the story of the arrest of Larry Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair made his clebrity with the dubious claim of an affair with BHO. He rented a room at the National Press Club to talk about himself, and left in handcuffs. A man with outstanding warrants should not be seeking publicity. Even if nature made his attorney wear a kilt.
George Carlin was a satirist, among other things. I doubt he could make up anything like the Larry Sinclair story.
Here is the original post.

Is George Carlin really that funny?
I saw a link to a routine about euphemisms at AtlMalcontent. I suspect that Malcontent is a euphemism, but who knows.
So, I have too much time, and I click on the link. Mr. C makes a bunch of obvious jokes about the evasion procedures we conduct with the King’s english. There is a link here somewhere, and maybe an embedded screen if I can get that gizmo to work.
One night, Lenny Bruce was performing in Chicago, when the police decided to review the show. Mr. Bruce was taken prisoner by the fuzz. The authorities decided to make the audience members show ID to get out, and one man loudly objected, and was arrested. The man was George Carlin.
Mr. C began to be popular about the time I was about to graduate from High School. I heard the album about the Seven Words you cannot say on television once, which is enough. They all refer to body parts and body functions, and it does say something about our culture that these words are demonized like they are.
At this point, a look at wikipedia is in order. I was wondering if Mr. C was alive, or if I somehow missed something.
He is from New York.
His real name is Carlin.
He was the first guest host on Saturday Night Live.
In 1961, he married Brenda Hosbrook. The couple was together until her death in 1997.

This is a re-post of this story. I wrote this last year. I published this on Mothers Day.

Luther Campbell McKinnon Sr. was born February 22, 1916, on a farm in Rowland, North Carolina. Europe was stuck in a war that would change the world, and not until The United States got involved. This didn’t happen for another year.
Luke was the youngest of four children. After life as a farm boy, he went to Wake Forest University, and then came back when his Daddy died. He ran a family dairy for a few years, and went to live in New Jersey. He lived near a prison, and saw the lights in the neighborhood dim when the electric chair was used.
In the early fifties, he came to Atlanta to live. This was where his beloved sister Sarah stayed with her husband and two daughters. One day he went into the C&S bank on 10th street, and took notice of one of the tellers. A few months later he married her. Jean Dunaway was his devoted wife for the rest of his life.
At some point in this era he started selling shoes. He would go to warehouses, gas stations, and wherever barefoot men needed shoes. He was “The Shoe Man” .
Before long there were two boys, and he bought a house, then another. The second house is the current residence of my brother and myself, and is probably worth 15 times what he paid for it. He had the good fortune to not buy in an area that was “blockbusted” in the sixties, as so many neighborhoods were.
And this was his life. He tended a garden, went to the gym, and was in the Lions Club for many years. When he met Mom, she let him know that going to church with her was part of the deal. They found a church that was good for their needs and made many friends there. The Pastor at Briarcliff Baptist, Glen Waldrop, was his buddy.
Glen had a great story when he spoke at Dad’s funeral. Luke was selling him some shoes, and said they would be so comfortable you would get up an hour early every day to wear them.
A few weeks later, Luke asked Glen how he liked the shoes. ” The shoes are great, but I am about to die from lack of rest”.

When I think of the character of this man, there is one night, which stands out. My brother was away at the time. The day before, Mom had discovered she had a detached retina, and was in the hospital awaiting surgery. Her job had arranged a “leaf tour” by train in North Georgia, and she got one of her friends at work to take me. There was some mechanical trouble on the train, and it did not get back into town until 3am Monday morning. And yet, Daddy stayed at home, did not panic, and had faith that all of us would be back soon, which we were.
Through all the struggles of his life, Dad was cheerful, laughed a lot, and was good company. He left me with a rich repertoire of country sayings, and had many stories to tell. He was surprising mellow about black people, if a bit old fashioned. (In the south when I grew up, this was highly unusual).
Dad was always in good, vigorous health, and I thought he would be with us for a long time. Well, that is not how things work. A cancer developed in his lungs (he did not smoke), and spread to his liver before it was discovered. After a mercifully brief illness, we lost him on February 7, 1992. This was a few months after the Braves made it to the World Series, which greatly surprised many of us.

PG had lived by the Airport for most of his life, but had never attended the “Good Neighbor Day”. The event is an open house and an air show, held every june at the PR challenged Peachtree Dekalb Airport. Guiding his bicycle past the cars lined up to park, PG heard a few stray notes off a PA system. Years of training told him that the song was the national anthem, which means he was just in time.
Chaining the bike to a railing at the main terminal building, PG started to look around. The tent with the food was doing a brisk business. Many of the attendees were in a uniform. After watching the honor guard and the planes taxi in formation, the place to be seemed to be on the other side of the fence.
A nice feature of this event was being able to go on the other side of the runway fence. Many vintage aircraft were on display,as well as a modern era Blackhawk helicopter. The Blackhawk is big and fierce, and could eat a weatherman helicopter for breakfast.
Before long the airshow started. PG found it to be not interesting. While the turns and stunts were fun to watch once or twice, before very long they all looked the same. This was very good flying.
PG has always enjoyed having an airport for a neighbor. The facility can be controversial, and PG appreciates the groups that keep it in line. However, the noise has never been a problem for him. Many of the people who complain about the noise knew they were moving in next to an airport.
A much touted feature of the afternoon was a sports car race on runway two. When it happened, the professional driver was way in front of the two radio announcers. There was little excitement.
PG has now been to Good Neighbor Day at Peachtree Dekalb Airport.

PG arrived to get DD at 8:02 . This was two minutes after he had planned to arrive, which is pretty punctual. Going through L5P and the Krog tunnel, they arrived at the Flap palace at 8:34. Dr. B and the resident were there, waiting for Dr. C. He was taking MARTA, and delayed at the Lindbergh Station. There was a phone call at 9am. Flap went to the Inman Park station to get Dr. C, while PG, DD, and Dr. B proceeded in the black Jetta. The plan was to go down Moreland to I285, and on down to Providence Canyon. The Hiram two would meet them at the park.
The turn onto I185 was missed. PG had a map, and saw a highway that would connect them onto the correct interstate with little time lost. The rest of the trip down was spent playing roadkill bingo and driving funny around trailer parks.
Finally  the players arrived at the park and made an emergency visit to the first available restroom. The Hiram two made the trip from Atlabama in good time , and had been waiting a half hour. The first item on the agenda was the white trail. This was a three mile trail at the top of the canyon, and was different from the seven mile red trail. Nobody had a permit for the red trail, so the white trail was the way to go.
It was a hot early summer day in Middle Georgia, with lots of direct sun and humidity. PG was glistening as he trailed behind the others going up the hill to the other side of the canyon. There was a sign imploring hikers to use good judgment while enjoying the park. The sign made a deep impression on Dr. C.
There was a homestead on the site of Providence Canyon once. Some vehicles were abandoned, and left behind. Dr. C. took a close look at the vehicles, after his experience on MARTA. There did seem to be a problem with taking delivery of the vehicles, not to mention none of them having a motor.
The red trail ended at the parking lot, not far from the initial pitstop. At first the crew was walking back on the road to the cars and food, but cooler heads prevailed. It was noted that, on a previous trip to the canyon, PG had walked on the floor of the canyon. The rim trail was a good workout, and the trees were pretty, but had few knockout views of the canyon.
There was a group of ladies resting on a bench. The hikers discussed the situation with the ladies, and one of whom had a map of the park. A decision was made to go down the hill and walk in the creekbed until the hikers reached the floor of the canyons. The ladies also took a group picture of the hikers.
The floor of the canyons yielded some spectacular sights. The canyon is the result of shaky land management. The land was cleared for farming, and started to erode when it rained. The gullies grew to 150 feet deep, revealing many colors. The site is sometimes called Georgia”s Little Grand Canyon. Indeed, there are more pine trees there than in the Arizona Canyon.
After a few minutes exploring this glorious natural disaster, the hikers went back up the hill, and got water from the cooler. They got in the vehicles, went to the covered picnic table, and had lunch.

PG and his neighbor DA went out to drink beer and shoot pool. The destination was a place called the Watering Hole.
The Watering Hole used to be a veterans of foreign wars. There was a TV repair store next door. When the county legalized bars, the VFW went somewhere else, and the Watering Hole was born. The TV repair store became the game room. You could see on the floor where the counter used to be.
This was a weeknight. One of the few other customers was a gentleman who was already past his limit. The drunk was fussing at the bartender about something when PG and DA walked in.
PG got lucky and hit a good shot on the pool table. He got a bit cocky and said And now for my next trick The drunk staggered into the game room and lay down on an empty pool table. DA replied Is that your next trick?
Before long, it was time to go home. As PG and DA were leaving, the drunk was arguing with the bartender. He wanted to buy a twelve pack to take home with him. He won the argument, and started walking up Clairmont Road with his prize.
PG got a block or so away from the place, when he realized what was going on. He turned around, and saw the drunk sitting in front of a seven eleven store. He was sitting on the curb drinking a beer.
PG drove in front of him and stopped the car. DA got out, walked over to the curb, picked up the eleven pack, and walked over to the car with it. The drunk stood up and yelled obscenities as the car pulled off into the night.