Blatheration

Remembrances of things passed

Miss Crabgrass unearthed an old video last night. I created it about 14 years ago while we were in the midst of refurbing an old 3 story house in Iowa. It was a walkaround of our then new neighborhood and nearby Palmer college, the "Mother Ship" to D.C.'s everywhere. We made copies of the thing and sent them out to relatives in lieu of Chrismas presents. Being poor students, we thought they would be satisfied.

What struck me was how fast time ha gone by, how little the offpring were, how crappy that house was when we started, how I would NEVER jump into such a thing today. Miss Crabgrass, (the tornado with the ponytail) then 4 years old never stood still and primarily ran everywhere she went in addition to the ongoing sound effects. Nice contrast to the surly and sluggish creature who now is unable to carry a load of laundry up a flight of stairs. #1 hasn't changed much. He's still his usual charming self, but probably doesn't trip over his shoelaces as much.

Still more striking is that Mrs. Doclee looked so young, but somehow looks better now than she ever did. I told her this, and after calling me a liar admitted that it was indeed true, but was probably a result of a new hairstyle. I never knew she had a hairstyle. Just hair. Hmm.

I only appeared briefly via mirror shots and a family shot at the end. I remain youthful and handsome.

Where did all that time go, geesh.

The Greening of the Mount of Olives

It occurs to me that the yucky color now displayed on the exterior of the family castle is appropriate, as we occupy the highest point on Mount Olive st. Olives are green so....Well, except for those black ones. Mmmmm. In fact, I often make appearances on the balcony to address the gathered throngs. This usually takes the form of having Dolly bark at people walking on "her" sidewalk while I blow smoke (real smoke, not that wimpy metaphorical stuff) in their direction.

The job is almost done, with only the unattractive South side remaining. Also a little patch above a window, but I had already cleaned my brush and i was threatening rain, so I gave it up. You win this time, rain cloud. Just you wait. After that a new roof, and a new porch, and a new kitchen, and...Damn, I'm tired already.

Back soon.

4 days since alien uprising.

My Hero

Okay, Besides Floyd and Dolly the Wonder Dog, there aren't any particular entities who have molded my outlook or guide the decision making process ( unless you count the imaginary friends and the voices in my head). But looking back, a major influence (aside from his persistent drug use) was this gent:

A distant relative of Roger That? Nope, it's Roger Ramjet, Hero of our Nation, who with his young sidekicks Yank, Doodle, Dan and Dee saved America from the Forces of Bad every Saturday morning with jinjoistic glee for oh too brief a time.

Though the repeated use of chemical aid has always bothered me, it seems that the Proton Energy Pill (which gives Roger the strength of 10,000 men for 10 seconds) was always for the greater good. Also the pharma companies.

He joins the Pantheon of Cartoons Doclee Likes along with Rocky, Bullwinkle, Tom Slick, Super Chicken (especially) Dudley Doright and Underdog. We need more like them.

Alien Update: Miss Peanut has been released from solitary confinement on the agreement to limit her excretory functions to the out of doors. The sofa is especially off limits as it has deletory effects on Mrs. Doclee's mental state. She (Peanut, not the Mrs.) is currently standing guard under the reception desk, protecting me from harm. Solicitors beware!

The main building on the compound is nearly completed in it's new coat of light green paint, and I have to admit that it does look nice. I wish now I had taken the previous owners up on thier offer to have it covered with vinyl siding though. Next project is new roof with a nice pair of dormers (anyone know how to build those?), a new front porch, and a re-do of the kitchen. Should be a nce place by retirement time.

Politics: Whenever I hear someone running for office use the phrase "...for the children" I immediately take thier name out of the hat. These people are not serious, are opportunists and not to be trusted. Likewise "I support the troops but not the mission" Look, if you do not support the mission, you can't support the folks doing it. It's dishonest. You're out of the hat. "Progress..." = out of the hat. If they use any word I feel like I have to look up...gone. Obfuscation=dishonesty.

Now that I have winnowed the field to a manageable number, I am left with....Well, how 'bout that. The only one left is Roger. That'll do. Except for the office of president. For that we need Super Chicken. Obviously.

A lovely painting by Giambattista somebody

Woman with exposed breast mandolin. Nice taterbug, huh?

Back soon.

Brother Floyd

Mr. Floyd DuVall, Davenport Iowa

Sometimes you meet a character who changes inspires you and reminds you of the good that life can hold. This is Mr. Floyd DuVall who died at the tender age of 92. He was a machinist, a nationally ranked aficianado of the M-1 rifle, and one of the coolest guys you could ever meet.

The first time I saw him, he was stealing apples from a tree he didn't own on the grounds that stolen apples taste better. That they do. Floyd's wife Elizabeth once threatened to leave him for spending $500 on an old car. It happened to be a Duesenberg and he eventually traded it for nearly a million dollars worth of vintage iron, including a stunning 851 Auburn boattail speedster
, a 1930 Ruxton roadster
and a 1913 Huppmobile
The Ruxton was yellow and still had the original paint and upholstery. The Auburn was purchased new by the Wrigley Family.

You would think that this sort of stuff would be kept in a climate controlled facility with video security and armed guards, but not Floyd. They lived in a garage behind his house just like any other car. "Well, they're just cars, you know."

Floydisms included "drizzle flippers" (windshield wipers) and sara pox (a pair of sox).
He was also the inventor of the "Squirlijig" which was a rotating device for feeding tree rats, but only after they earned it. As soon as Mr. Squirrel grabbed the ear of corn, it would rotate, causing him to hang on for dear life or forego his snack. I remember a big fat black squirrel who seemed to have figured it out.

He will be missed.

Quickie

Now onn E-bay a 1926 Gibson F5 Fern. Only $35,000. Bid now!

Update

To forestall any of those "what is..." typa questions, I present preemptive answers relative to the previous post:
1. It's called tablature, for those of us too lazy to learn standard musical notation. Despite years of exposure to it, I still am unable to comprehend why Every Good Boy Does Fine, or why his FACE is of relevance. I have music to play, dammit.

2. Pat-a-cake is where you smear handfuls of joint compound over the victim surface (preferably limiting yourself to walls and floors) and pat it with your palms. Bonus tip: joint compound will adhere to plaster walls, but plaster will not stick to gypsum wallboard. Go ahead, ask me how I know that.

3. Super Chicken's true identity is...Henry Cabot Henhouse III...I think.

4. It's grayish brown, not browninsh gray. I stand corrected. Sheesh.

Today after a productive weekend with extra special BONUS DAY, I present a special treat. Not a mere mandolin, but an entire song. Just for you. So you know I care.

Fisher's Hornpipe - print w/Courier

kick-off
-----------------|
-----0---2---4---|
-----------------|
-----------------|
| | |

D G D G D G E A
-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|
-5-0-------2-0---|-----------2-0---|-----------2-0---|-------------0-4-|
-----4-0-5-----5-|-4-0-2-4-5-----5-|-4-0-2-4-5-----5-|-4-2-0-4-2-------|
-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|
|_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| | |_|

________________
D G D G D G |1.A D
-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|
-5-0-------2-0---|-----------2-0---|-----0-2-4-0-2-4-|-5-2-0-------0-4-|
-----4-0-5-----5-|-4-0-2-4-5-----5-|-4-5-------------|-------4-0-------|
-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|
|_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| | |_|

_________________
2. A D A D A
---2-0-----------|-0-------0-3-2-0-|-2-------2-5-3-2-|-0-------0-2-3-2-|
-5-----4-5---4-5-|---4-0-4---------|---5-0-5---------|---4-0-4---------|
-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|
-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|
|_|_|_| | |_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_|

E A G D G A
-0---------------|-----------------|-----------------|-------0-2---0---|
---5-4-2-0---5-4-|-2-------2-5-4-2-|-0-------0-5-4-5-|-2-4-5-----5---4-|
-----------------|---5-0-5---------|---4-0-4---------|-----------------|
-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|
|_|_|_| | |_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_| |_|_|_|

________________ _________________
1. D 2. D
-----------------|-----------------|
-5-2-0-------4-5-|-5-2-0-----------|
-------4-0-------|-------4-0-------|
-----------------|-----------------|
|_|_|_| | |_| |_|_|_| |

If you are unfamiliar with this one, its the one that goes, "Da dada Da dadda Da dadda Da dadda dum...

Note the strong presence of the "D" chord, which is played on the spoons, and the vocals which in my case are provided by Dolly, the world's smartest dog. "G" and "A" also appear along with a cameo by the sad and lonely "E".

The primary method is to play slowly while sharping or flatting notes at random at 5:30 a.m. As you progress, feel free to repeat only faster and louder. An alternate method is to pluck strings randomly while family members attempt to speak to one another. That's a lot of entertainment for around a hundred bucks.

Which leads to the next item on the agenda: Getting Doclee a new mandolin. Doclee has a new mandolin, but it is slightly difficult to play a clean note on the first fret. Normally this could be fixed by a simple and relatively inexpensive adjustment, but here at the institute, we never do the simple or the normal thing. My skills are too advanced to play a simply repaired mandolin. This mandolin needs a bigsby tailpiece and a tremolo bar, scruggs tuners and a pair of double humbuckers. Also it needs to be painted black and have cool pinstripes applied. Maybe even a portrait of the best super hero of them all: Super Chicken. Stay "tuned" (heh, get it? tuned?).

Well anyway, I did manage to scrape most of the paint off the front of the main house (which Mrs. Doclee is at this moment replacing with "Nauseous green" from the Martha Stewart prison collection).

Also managed replace the 1/2 ceiling in the office bathroom that mysteriously vanished during a freak rainstorm last year. (Memo to self: Next time someone comments on how much they loooove old houses or that they have so much charm, show them this shoddy repair caused by 100 year old roof leak...then throat punch them.)
Furthermore, the entire bathroom is testured in a groovy "pat-a-cake" pattern and painted with a mixture of some sort of brownish gray paint mixed with 25 pounds of joint compound. Why? I don't remember now, but at the time it seemed like a heck of an idea.
Next projects on the list include moving into the Fort while destroying the kitchen upstairs and replacing it with something of equal utility, only different. Actually, it's to be more of an "unmodeling" than a remodel, because the floor, subfloor, and ceiling are going into the dumpster (1971 ford F-100) and replaced with...nothing. Hillbilly chic.

I will attempt to document the carnage and lay the evidence before you.

Back soon.

Go to this website

This is new, go check it out. Mrs. Doclee commands you. This site was designed by #1 son who celebrates his 27th (gasp!) birthday tomorrow. Happy birthday Scotty Wotty! (tm)

Mrs. Doclee and the other dumb broad have been busy little bees.

Former alien Miss Peanut is still unclear on what the word "no" means so is therefore again in exile. Caged like an animal. Shameful.

Holiday weekend plans are shaping up. Mrs. Doclee has determined that the painting project will be completed by Tuesday or heads will roll, figuratively, that is, but we can rest assured that if it is not completed, there will be unhappiness. Double plus unhappiness. Very un good.

This house survived about 75 years of being painted white, then it was "Hamilton blue", which is the color you see on 80's folk art and for the past 10 years it has been some sort of bluish gray, courtesy of our resident Artist in Chief. Now it is about 65% green. Cottage green I believe it is. With darker green and red trim. I have been assured that this color is in now way related to any color currently in use by the US Army. Of course, I do not believe this, so I will post pistures of the completed project and let you, my loyal reader decide.

Todays musical instrument of interest is:

An electric mandolin? Crazy man, crazy. How do they sound? Terrible if you don't plug them in.

Summer blahs continue

At the risk of being chastised for inadequate bloggage, I hereby tender this post. When you live in this part of the world, life isn't always as exciting as one might wish. It has been rather quiet around here of late so posting has been diminished. At least that's my story. Former alien "Peanut" has resolutely refused her intense potty training and therefore spends an inordinate amount of time in solitary confinement. This of course, limits her access to dirty socks and underwear, so she must content herself with the rag bone provided by her warden, Mrs. Doclee.

Happy phone call last night from old friend Doc Fitz, who is now happily house trained (I think) and retired from babysitting Marines in California. He has managed repeat visits to the litterbox and I was overjoyed to hear that he was safe.

Last time I visited Doc Fitz was about 7 years ago when I drank all his beer and then got myself lost in LA traffic in a borrowed V12 Jaguar. My half hour trip became 3 and a half hours, but I had a buzz and the top was down, so it was a fine trip. Also the car's owner, Uncle Kelly J. was out of town and didn't even miss it. I later found out that the car had previousy belonged to Mr. Travolta and sure enough, there was a picture of him driving it at the Peterson museum the very next day. My brush with greatness continues.

Here's a nice change of pace:

I found one of these cheap yesterday and am currently obsessing over it. This is especially pathetic, since I don't even know how to play a geetar. I do, however possess mad mandolin skillz, as you well know.

A very Happy 50th birthday wish to commenter Ms. Nastyface. So sorry we couldn't make it to the festivities. Timing.

Back soon.

Museum finds

As Curator of Western Northwest Arkansas' largest outdoor automobile museum, it is my duty to occasionally acquire new articles for display. Two new display pieces were generously donated by local philanthropist Jim Bob Pike, who assures us that they were running when he parked them "a while back".

On the left is a once stately 1955 Hudson Hornet Super four door sedan complete with Twin-H 308 flathead six, "flash-o-matic (ford) automatic transmission and factory air conditioning. Note the cleverly missing headlight bezel. Those were cast aluminum, in case you didn't know.

On the right, a formerly pristine 1953 Hudson Super Jet with twin H powered 202 cubic inch flathead six. This one has been replicated even to the extent of having the back light smashed out in reference to tree branch damage from the big ice storm of '07.

Notice the fine patina.

They are both on display at the regional annex, behind Jim Bob's tool shed in a lavishly appointed scene which strives to replicate these beasts natural habitat. They are available for viewing on a per-call basis. Admission is one six-pack or two 40's. Malt liquor is preferred.

Recently relocated to the main building is this treasure which I myself have donated due to my generous nature and the need for a quick tax write off:

A 1957 or so International Harvester Metro delivery vehicle with 220 cubic inch Black Diamond power and a 3 speed

This is before the distinctive patinated finish was secured at no small expense.

This vehicle may be seen at the main museum on the grounds of the Rusty Nuts Car club about a half mile North of the Baptist church on Dawn Hill Road back behind the chicken house. Admission is free, but you might want to bring some rubber boots, due to the presence of a high population of local fauna.

Also on display are a number of nicely aged Chevrolet pickups from the 50's up through the 90's an assortment of elderly Oldsmobiles, and a corvette which is resolutely refusing to submit to our patented surface rust procedure.
Hours are anytime you see Rocky the Rotweiler outside the fence.

Check this site periodically for updates.