Greetings from the High Plains

Well, good afternoon there Sports Fans and Music Lovers.

Welcome to the latest in the malevolent rantings of the Old Curmudgeon.  We'll be sharing the occasional never to be convicted of humble opinions with those interested and intrepid enough to tolerate them and aggravating the hell out of the rest.  Your comments are cordially invited with the proviso that they may be mocked, their spelling and grammar critiqued, and just generally be dismissed as idiocy if they are of the caliber of those of the average TV talking head.

Speaking of TV talking heads you should note that since I tossed the tube in 1976 (true Spirit of '76) my exposure to the brain burn is severely limited; mostly to YouTube re-runs and propaganda web sites like MSNBC and Young Turks.  Radio listening is limited to XM as we are far enough from any commercial transmitters to be treated to anything more than static and cattle futures.  Frankly I'd be surprised if there are more than a dozen other people in the county who would recognize a Bach concerto or wouldn't bitch about "that bloody row" as does my wife.  Most listening time is spent on talk radio and complaining to each other about the egregious ignorance of Constitutional principles exhibited by what purport to be the servants of the people.  Make that SELF-servants of the people.

By way of brief background for those fortunate enough to have lived without me.  I am retired from Local Union 102 of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (www.ibewlocal102.org) where I was privileged to receive four years of paid training in an interesting trade and a decent living for myself and family for some thirty-eight  years.  During that time I managed to break off for a two year sabatical with the US Army (1966-68) culminating in a five month tour with the 187th Assault Helicopter Company out of Tay Ninh, RVN.  (Hence the signature block).  Growing up in metro North Jersey and having the opportunity to ramble around the planet a bit at government and corporate expense I came to recognize that there was certainly a better way to live than in home waters, so to speak, so when retirement reared its gorgeous head shortly after the turn of the century (21st wiseass; I'm not that old) my blushing bride of some 31 years took to the internet to find a place to plant in in the great southwestern states.  Northeastern New Mexico fit the bill nicely and in December of 2002 we closed on our little slice of Heaven here on the high plains.

I like to say that I have waited a damn long time for my geriatric senility, and I intend to take every advantage of it.  Drop by from time to time and I'll treat you to running commentary and well reasoned opinion on what's wrong with the world and how to fix it before our grandkids are old enough to hold it against us (or hopefully, our memory).

Cheerio and keep smiling.  (It makes people wonder what the hell you're up to.)