IT ALL GOES BACK TO THE HOKEY POKEY.

I started this blog asking the question, ‘Is the hokey pokey really what it is all about?’

The one thing I have discovered in my seventy-plus years is, as expressed in the Life of Brian, the meaning of life is - there is no meaning of life.

Many physicists have defined the human race as an accidental anomaly occurring on a small planet rotating around an unimpressive star in a galaxy of billions of stars, in a universe of billions of galaxies.

And then there is my 4 a.m. thinking from a physics background:

Our solar system looks amazingly similar to our conception of an atom; in which case we would be occupying an electron that we call earth rotating around a nucleus we call the sun.

  

Now our atom (solar system) is one of billions of atoms rotating a nucleus (black hole) forming a molecule we call the galaxy. 

That molecule is one of billions of molecules that make up a pustule on the ass of a half drunk female in leathers sitting on a bar stool in a biker bar in another dimension, comparing her tats with the bartender.

We, the human race of Earth, might call her God.

Now she in turn is sitting on an electron making up an atom that is part of a molecule …

And it’s turtles all the way down. 

 

These thoughts keep me awake early in the morning. 

the Ol'Buzzard

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

One week ago I published a blog post complaining that throughout the month of January we had so little snow here in Maine that I wasn't able to bank the house.  

One week later and three major snow storms, the Goddess whose job it is to keep men humble has bestowed her satirical blessing.

We now have about thirty inches of standing snow and drifts that are deeper.   I normally wouldn't complain; but Her benevolence didn't stop there.

This morning I got up at daybreak to clear the driveway of the ten inches that had fallen over night.   The temperature was four below.   I pulled the snow blower out of the shed and tried to start it, but the engine would barely turn over.   I was not overly concerned, as the little nine horse has an electric starter.   I ran an extension cord from the back porch to the shed, pumped the primer, set full choke and hit the start button.    The starter motor spun, the engine caught immediately, but then a loud bang…   I shifted into gear, held down the auger handle and drove into a snow bank: the drive worked fine but the snow blower wouldn't blow snow.  

Back in the shed, at four below zero, I disassemble the fan belt cover and the bottom plate exposing the pulleys.    Sure enough, the auger belt had broken. 
 

By this time it’s after eight, so I call Sears to see if they have the belt in stock: no, but they can order one – which will take a week to ten days to deliver.  That would be no problem in July, but another snow storm is predicted for Thursday. 

I have to find a belt.  

In order to get the car out of the driveway I have to shovel a path to the road.    I make the seven mile ride on slushy, icy road to the auto parts store with the broken belt.   The young man at the store measures the belt with a tape measure and sells me a belt guaranteed to fit – except when I get home it doesn't; so, back to the auto parts store for a larger belt.

It is approaching noon by the time I get home, and I have skipped breakfast, so I decide it is time for a break.  My wife makes me cereal, toast and tea.  


An hour later I am back outside trying to mount the belt.   This time it fits.

 

I remount all the panels and everything seems to be working.  I still have the driveway to clear, and by the time I put the snow blower away it is four-o-clock and I am beat.   

As I stamp back to the house I think I hear faint laughter – a woman’s voice; but it has to be just the wind blowing through the trees. 



the Ol'Buzzard  

A BUZZARD EGG OMELET #28

In this cycle of Islamic terrorism all the progressive pundits on radio and TV are declaring that the problem is not the religion, but a few religious extremist who must be blamed. 

   

But, of course, it is the religion.   Not just ‘their’ religion but all religions.

  

The tenant of all religions are ludicrous when separated and viewed outside the context of religion.

Just the idea of an all knowing and infallible super designer that created the perfect earth and universe just to house his special creatures – created in his likeness…    Really?

As an engineer this Guy sucks.    I wouldn't let him build a shed.    His design of the female system is example enough.   The parts all look good but as far as reliability they break down and spend more time in the shop than a Chrysler minivan. 

  

I have heard it said that God is female; but why would She inflect childbirth, periods, PMS, menopause, urinary tract infections, vaginal problems, ovarian cancer, breast cancer and all the other maladies that plague the female system onto her sisterhood? 

 

And why is it men want sex all the time and women would rather paint their toe nails?  

 

Next to sex the greatest pleasure is food.   I love eggs, maybe more than bacon.   Why is it that all the good foods are poisonous to our system and bean curds and broccoli are good for you?   What kind of sick shit is that?  Who designed this?

Then there are all the ruled – each religion has their own list and interpretation.     Also, the quandary of who is going to heaven with you and who is not; who you are supposed to like and who are you supposed to disdain - the religious inspired bigotry and violence that encompasses every nation at the insistence of religions.

  

All this on the promise of some insubstantial glorious life after death in some otherworldly utopia.

  

Without this vague promise of life after death there would be no religions. 

Marx called religion the opiate of the people; but, it would be better described as the curse of the human race.

the Ol’Buzzard

AN ATHEIST SEES THE LIGHT

I gave up religion soon after graduating from high school.   It always bugs me when I am called an atheist, because I don’t believe I need a name to define me by what I don’t believe.  

I don’t believe in big foot, zombies, vampires, fairies or gnomes and I don’t need a special title to proclaim me a sensible person.   Likewise, I don’t need a title to identify that I don’t believe in a magical man living in some fantasy realm that controls everything that happens here on earth. 

But lately I have changed my mind…I believe that there may be a deity: a GODDESS, and that all the women on earth are witches and have a special hidden connection with the GREAT MOTHER. 

The goal of the GODDESS is obviously to make all men appear foolish and thereby, in our own minds, covertly subservient to the female of the species.   SHE is able to accomplish this because HER witches, that inhabit our lives, have special imps and mini-demons they can set upon us when we become to arrogant. 

   

To begin with, HER females have bodies that can enchant us with an illusion of sexual gratification that instantly turns us males into drooling automatons, and they are able to finesse this power in a way that always keeps us distracted when ever we are in their presence.  

SHE has given HER witches, for their pleasure and entertainment, imps and mini-demons they can use to bedevil us males.

I was recently doing carpentry work, and measure a board for cutting – then measuring it twice for accuracy.    When I cut the board and laid it in place I found to my astonishment that it was ½ inch too short.  I slammed down the board and let out a string of cuss words.  Now, I hadn’t seen my wife all morning but when I looked up she was watching me from the window.   She shook her head and said, ‘You should measure twice before you cut.   Then she  disappeared…  ZAP!

There was the time we were in my truck and I hear an unusual rattling noise.  I ask my wife if she heard it.  She looks at me incredulously and said she couldn’t hear anything.’   Eventually the rattle drove me nuts and I took the truck to my mechanic.   The mechanic drove the truck and there is no rattle.   I drove out of the shop and the rattle was instantly back.  I turned around and went back to the shop but again the mechanic couldn’t hear the noise.   

When I got home my wife looks at me with attentive eyes while her cat weaves between her feet, and she asked what the mechanic found.   I told her they couldn’t find the noise.  She shook her head and walked away leaving the cat staring at me with big blue eyes before following her – and I swear the cat was shaking her head…SHAZAM!

These and a thousand other instances that have left me standing in her presence with egg on my face have me almost convinced.   It has happened too often to be just my stupidity.   It happens too often to other males to be our collective stupidity.  There has to be some divine intervention, some GODDESS that can leave us males groveling for our self respect in front of our women (witches.)

the Ol’Buzzard