Your Weekly Whoomp

Well, April Fool’s day was last week. I hope you were stoopid for that one day. Please, next April first, if you’re told there’s an elephant in the back yard, go look. There may be one.
That was a minor mistake (I probably made more, bigger ones) I made while raising my own. They played their own little childlike pranks - and I never fell for them. Hey, one day a year of pretending to be stupid can only add to you child’s fond memories when they grow up.
Today’s Easter. I remember, when Russ was small, we hid 12 Easter eggs around the living room. Russ went looking for them and found 11.
I said, “Russ, turn on the light, please.” He turned the switch on the lamp, and continued to look for the missing egg.
I said, “Russ, why didn’t you turn on the light?”
He said, “I did!”
I asked, “Gee, I wonder what’s wrong with it! Why don’t you take out the bulb, and we’ll change it.”
He looked under the lampshade and found the 12th egg where the bulb should have been.
Every year after that, the lamp was the first place he looked, even if the light was on! Mea culpa! Maybe I should have played into him and put one there - at least once! Anyway, after that one time, he never found another one there.
Well, HAPPY EASTER!

Sorry about that.

Small moratorium in the advent of Linda Johnson’s death. You don’t know her, and I’ve never mentioned her before. She was a nice lady that I’ve known for years. Once the moratorium was over, I had trouble getting into the swing of whoomps.

Susan accepted a ring (diamond, of course) (from me, of course). We’re still trying to ascertain the significance if it.

I case you’re curious, damages from the accident (August 1, 2005) included a totaled car, 14 rib fractures a spot of blood on the brain and, (what do you expect when you have 14 bone fragments floating inside your rib cage) a punctured lung.

The blood spot and the lung healed overnight.but. yunno, you only have 13 ribs on each side, countem! If I had 14 rib fractures on one side, that means at least one was fractured twice! That means an extra long time to heal. Took 6 months. I’ve had muscle sprains take much longer, 11 months, for example.

This is the first day of a new year! 2007, in case you hadn’t heard! I hope your new year will be at least as good as mine is gonna be!.

I’ve been thinking. I do that once in a while.

At this point in our history, Bush may be exactly what we need. For 200 years, we’ve been saying, “The SYSTEM isn’t perfect, but it’s the best one in the world!. Well, Bush is working hard to uncover all the imperfections that need our attention. He may be the fly in the ointment that goads us into tweaking the system to make sure all kinds of things don’t happen again. Please note, when I say Bush, I point my finger in the general direction of Washington, because I don’t think Bush himself is smart enough to do all the things he’s getting credit/ blame for. By the way, according to my mental credit/blame scorecard, he’s got more blame than credit.

Now , about the latest development. Civil Servants are keeping track of their own time, and the supervisor signs off.

THIS IS A TRAP!

1. It’s bad accounting practice for the person responsible for an asset to keep records for that asset. It encourages misuse of that asset. In this case, the asset is the civil service employee’s time. And I do believe that someone in the upper echelons knows that it’s a bad practice.

THIS IS A TRAP!

2. A short time ago, civil service employees were offered early retirement, at the normal reduced rate, with no incentive to take it. The civil servants I know laughed! Virtually noone was willing to give up his job to cut the government payroll without some kind of financial incentive.

THIS IS A TRAP!

Given these two points, what I think is coming is a no cost cutting of the government payroll, along with charges of fraud, and wholesale firing of anyone caught abusing the “privilege” of keeping his own time card. When enough people are abusing it, there’ll be newspaper articles vilifying civil servants for the rampant undocumented time off, a lot of people fired, and the time keeping done the old way.

Did I say, “This is a trap?”

Got a note from Russ, my oldest, who, rightfully, pointed out that the inside of a can of red paint was white, or possibly, silver, depending on the manufacturer.
I read that and said, “??”, and looked back at the whoomp.
I had, in fact, asked, “What color is the inside of a can of red paint, before you open the can?” And then, I proceeded to talk about the color of the paint. He picked up on what my unintentional question really was and described the inside of the container, after it was opened, of course. He didn’t concede that without light, the inside of the can was probably black–or maybe he decided that it was unnecessary.
Also, I made a statement I’m not sure I completely understand, last week.
I was talking about my temporary reassignment, and pointed out that it wasn’t rocket science.
Thinking about that statement, I got to thinking, “What’s complicated about rocket science?” If you fill a balloon with air and let it go, you understand the basic premise of rocketry, but then you have to consider stabilizing it, directing it, computing a viable payload, and continuously building better and better fuels-and don’t forget safety concerns.
????
Guess I answered my own question, huh?
Well, lookee here! A truly short whoomp!

I found out recently that I’m about to become a grandfather again! My fourth grandchild, second grandson, is due around Thanksgiving! Maybe I’d better tell my sons what’s causing it, quick!
Yunno, this past week, a reporter wrote an article about the “Blackfeet Indians”! I read the article, but the content of the article was lost in the number of times he used the term throughout the article. Those of us who didn’t drop out of grade school know that there are no Blackfeet Indians. There is one Blackfoot Indian and there are many Blackfoot Indians. Blackfoot is the name of the tribe.
Except for the special detail I was on this last week, there’s not really not too much to whoomp about! It seems like every day, I learned some way to do my temporary job better or to make someone else’s job easier. The job had nothing to do with rocket science. I won’t bore you with the details, but we had to get vehicles of all kinds ready for shipment to Kuwait!
Anyway, let’s get on to the subject line!
Do you know what color a can of red paint is, before you open the can? The proper (according to some authorities) answer is, “Black, because there is no light to reflect.”
But someone else may say, “Don’t be ridiculous! Someone put red pigment into the paint, the can says ‘red’, and when you open the can, you don’t have to wait for even a short period of time to wait for the paint to turn red! Of course it’s red inside the can!”
But as I said in the subject line, this is not about the can of paint.
I cite the paint to show that this is a point about which you can argue. That is to say that the point is arguable. One might even say, “Arguably, the paint inside an unopened can of red paint is black!
Pet peeve!
People make statements like, “Arguably, the sun lights our days!” There’s nothing arguable about it! They should say, “inarguably” in its place!
Well, I got that off my chest! Time to put the soapbox away!

Someone asked me about the 1/2 CPR. I guess it would be kinda cruel to let any new readers wait a week for the next whoomp.
The 1/2 CPR was on my youngest son, Keith, and I consider it 1/2 because, I, frankly didn’t know what I was doing, and was probably as scared as I’ve ever been.
My ex and I stopped at a small restaurant near the Mass/Rhode Island border one night, on the way home from visiting my parents.
We were talking casually over our meals when Karen said, “Dan, look at Keith!”
I looked at him and he was blue, obviously not breathing. At the point in my life, if someone had mentioned CPR, I would have said, “Who? You’re not talking about LBJ, RMN etc.” I have to admit I had taking a mouth to mouth resuscitation course in Boy Scouts, but that training evaporated. This was my SON!
I, frankly, didn’t know what do, but this was no time to be thinking about taking any kind of life saving course, or wishing I knew what to do! I had to do something fast, even if it was wrong!
I pulled him out of his high chair, laid him on his stomach in my left hand, and hit his back as hard as I dared with the little tyke. This was no time for half measures or gentle patting. I hit him hard, ready to do it again, if I had to. If something didn’t work soon, he was gonna die! I imagined holding him by his feet, upside down, and shaking him, either until he started breathing or someone with some authority stopped me.!
Nothing farther was necessary! A piece of hot dog (I think) flew out of his mouth and onto the floor, and I could feel him breathing. I put him back in his high chair to finish his meal, and he started crying, one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard! I think he thought he did something wrong!
I call it my 1/2 case of CPR because it didn’t involve much of what is taught in CPR class, and I didn’t have any knowledge of heart massage, if it was necessary.
Well, there you have it. Write soon, huh?

Sorry about the silence. There’s really been nothing to whoomp about.
Yeah, I lead a boring life. The last exciting thing that happened to me was getting hit by a Ford EXP. Might hafta do that again so I’ll have something exciting to whoomp about. …Just kidding.
The accident DID effect, noticeably, the way I drive, also reflected in my new motto. Ready to hear my new motto? Here it is…STOPPING ON RED IS MANDATORY. GOING ON GREEN IS OPTIONAL, NO MATTER WHAT THE JERK DRIVING THE CAR BEHIND YOU THINKS.
Yeah, I sit at the intersection until I know that all crossing traffic is going to stop. i.e. “Take nothing for granite!”
Anyway, Susan and I are enrolled in another CPR course. Believe it or not, the last one was 2 two years ago. I consider it mandatory training, and I think she feels the same way. I have trouble imagining the helpless feeling some people have felt, watching someone die, and not knowing what to do, wishing they had the training, hoping someone trained will come along in time.
Yeah, there’s more to it. Once I have the training, I feel it’s mandatory to use it if I am in a position to. CPR training tells you that you have a choice, that whether you use the training is completely up to you. I have to “dis” that part of the instruction. I feel that knowing what to do in an emergency situation requires me to use it. Argue with me if you want. It’s a feeling, maybe not logical.
But there’s more to it than that! CPR is emotionally exhausting. I don’t know if I can express the feeling, but, when you’re performing CPR, you are trying to save someone’s life, constantly aware that success or failure is completely in your hands, and that your success or failure may determine the patient’s future, or lack of one.
And, as you already know, I’ve had to use it 2 1/2 times.
Anyway, the class is the 23rd of this month (That’s a Friday.)
Lately, I’ve been thinking about pain, and my attitude toward it. I don’t like it and avoid it at all cost, but it’s my best friend, as in, if it hurts, don’t do it.
Russ, my oldest son, learned that early.
He was about 2 years old, standing on a stool, watching Dad make pancakes. I kept backing him away from the stove, with the admonition, “Get away from the frying pan, you’ll burn your nose!” Suddenly, the pancakes needed turning over, right away, and I backed Russ away from the frying pan one more time and turned around to get a spatula. As soon as my back was turned, Russ screamed! In a matter of minutes he had a blister on the tip of his nose! That was the first and only time I ever saw a cute blister. Yeah, it extended the length of his nose about 1/4 of an inch! Healed quickly, though, but, to this day, he has never gotten his nose that close to a frying pan again, hot or cold, unless, of course, his wife has gotten a frying pan that close to his nose. Lesson learned.
That’s about it for this time. Write soon, huh?

Not really too much to whoomp about this time, so, I guess I’ll just share a couple thoughts about my cane.
My boss asked me if I’d beat anybody with my cane yet, and, having thought the conditions under which I’d use it, I said, “Yunno, being mad isn’t a good enough reason to hit someone with my cane… I’d hafta be scared!”
Someone once asked me why I don’t use it at work. After much thought, the answer is really very simple, and didn’t warrant as much thought as I put into it. I don’t want my coworkers to think I can’t handle my part of the load, and I don’t want coworkers to think I want them to think I can’t handle my part of the load. So my cane gets hung up at work.
Now, this next story really does have something to do with the cane, so bear with me.
A pirate walked into a bar in pretty bad shape. He had a wooden leg, a hook for his left hand, and a patch on his eye.
The bartender said, “Hey, Pete, I haven’t seen you in a long time! What happened to your leg?”
The pirate answered, “Got it blown off by a cannonball!”
The bartender continued, “That’s too bad! What happened to your hand?
“Got it cut off in a sword fight.”
“You’re ALL messed up! What happened to your eye?”
“A seagull, flying overhead, pooped in it!”
“Seagull poop? That wouldn’t cause you to lose your eye!”
“Well, it was the day after I got this new hook….
Now, if you didn’t get it, imagine you would do immediately upon something getting in your eye.
Now, here’s the part where my cane comes in. Remember when I said that I had put a spike on it? Well getting into the car at the same time as the cane, I sat on the spike. I was wondering if I drew blood, but, so far, nobody’s mentioned it.
So, why am I using a cane at all. You might well ask. Ever since I watched, “The Avengers”, an adventure series of yore, starring a pair of Brits, I’ve thought a cane was cool, but I never had a reason to justify the cost.
My excuse was handed to me on August first, via a Ford EXP, which gave me those 14 rib fractures, and, soon afterward, I wanted a signal to tell drivers, as a pedestrian, “I know I’m not moving very fast, but there’s probly a reason.”
It worked.
My ribs have healed, I’ve taken cane Hapkido classes, so, now, the cane is a means of self defense, and an external “cool” thing. but, occasionally, like today, I wonder if the having a cane isn’t just too much of a pain in the ass.
This is the part where I usually say, “Please write” or something like that, but after this letter of confession, I’m not sure I want you to! Maybe you will anyway!