Labor Day Musings

Don't ya' love that "musing" thing?
I wouldn't want to begin to count the number of blockhead blogs that purport to be someone's "musings".
Anyway, labor day always bums me out.
I mean, seriously; I bought the white pants, several pair - and the white shoes, the white belt... the godammed dinner jacket (shit)!
But now, now I'm not supposed to wear them again until Memorial Day? Whenever that is.
Thanks, Obama.
Hands off my sock drawer!
Okay, I'm going to ramble a bit.
I have no clue who said it but it goes through my head at least once a day:
"The past is another country."
Intro:
A case in point. You don't have to watch the whole thing. It's long and not much happens. It's just worth noticing the "Jimmie Olson" lookalike on guitar, one "James Page".

Okay, in aid of that;
The Beloit College Mindset List.
It's kind of silly but has it's interesting bits.
A fave of mine; the first few lines from their earliest list, 1998, I think:

1. "The people starting college this fall across the nation were born in 1980.
2. They have no meaningful recollection of the Reagan era, and did not know he had ever been shot.
3. They were prepubescent when the Persian Gulf War was waged.
4. Black Monday 1987 is as significant to them as the Great Depression.
5. There has only been one Pope. They can only remember one other president."


That speaks to the heart of my problem with all these libertarian, feed-store ninjas.
To wit:
SHUT UP! THE GROWNUPS ARE TALKING!
These idiots wouldn't have known that doddering, charming old fool, Reagan if he'd come up and bit them in the ass.
Anyway, Levi Johnston.
Oh. My. God.
Upcoming actor/model - and published (in a national magazine - sorry, Larry) writer.
We'll hear from him - and I don't mean a postcard!
That boy's a comer.
Wait, that may have been the original problem.
Anyway, his random potshots at the departing almost-Mom-in-law - damn! that was close - reminded me of an anecdote, told me by a long ago co-worker (See! Labor day, Yo).

Bill and I were contemporaries in high school. I just never knew him then.
Anyway, ten years later, we were working at the same place and he told me this story from back in the day - and it came with a moral.

Some guy, an adult, had purchased an engine from Bill.
Bill was a gear-head, a common affliction.
Anyway, the big fellah in question took possession of the engine, put it in his rig, and just blew off ever paying Bill for it.
After all, he was just a kid.
Anyway, bright and early one morning, the industrious young Bill arrived at the house outside of which "his" engine resided.
He ran out an extension cord, (this is the part I love) plugged it into the guy's outlet, plugged a drill into the other end, crawled underneath and drilled a 1/4" hole through "his" engine block.
He said it was high enough to be out of most of the oil and that he didn't fuck-up the piston.
It would just leak oil, always - and that cylinder would always be weak.
And his new engine would go to shit quickly.
Bill's moral:
"Never piss-off a teenager. They have no sense of proportion."
So, Sarah.
Tough darts, old girl.
I don't know what they taught you down there in Boise but I'm sure it will allow you to, how did you put it?
Follow the road... "North... to the future".
That's where we want to see you, sweetie.
In the future.