Saturday, February 28, 2009


Multi-tasking at its finest:

KETTERING, Ohio — Police in Ohio say a woman has been charged with child endangering after another motorist reported she was both breast-feeding a youngster and talking on a phone while driving.

Police in the Dayton suburb of Kettering say the caller told them he saw the woman Thursday.
Officer Michael Burke says authorities used a license plate number to track down 39-year-old Genine Compton.

He said the woman told officers she was breast-feeding and wouldn't let her child go hungry.
Burke said the legal concern is that Compton had a child in her lap while driving, not that she was breast-feeding in public.

He said the child was under 2 years old.

Police say the woman faces up to 180 days in jail and a $1,800 fine if convicted of the misdemeanor.

Thursday, February 26, 2009


Son Max doctored a picture I sent him of the sailboat we're considering to buy. You can see that he's made something out of Impatient. Max's idea would save a little money on lettering and be cause for snickering on the water from other sailors.

Snick. Snick. Or would that be SOL (snicker out loud)?

This kid is as warped as his father.

We're driving to Lake Tahoe tomorrow to see the Impatient Impotent (Now that has a ring to it).

Sunday we'll see a second boat in Sacramento. Both are close to new Catalina 250's with a wing keel.

The weather tomorrow in Tahoe should be like this, sunny and somewhat warm after a month long string of clouds and rain.

We'll give the boat a thorough check and then head back to Cowtown.
Catalina 250's are study boats, nearly impossible to sink or swamp and sail fairly decently.
Some 250's have wheel steering as you see here with the Impatient Impotent sailing on Lake Tahoe. I'd prefer tiller steering (rudder on a stick, if you will) but would consider this boat if it's in near perfect condition.

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Tuesday, February 24, 2009


George Harrison would have been 66 today.


Ford has a better idea. Back in the day that was Ford's battle cry. For quite a while Ford has lacked a better idea and has landed in a stinky kettle of fish. GM and Chrysler have not done any better.

American cars used to be the dream of every man, woman and child around the world. Today everyone dreams about anything but having an American car in their life. WTF happened?

We all have our theories on the failure of each of the auto makers. But really what it boils down to is that the issues in Ford, GM and Chrysler is all leadership, piss poor leadership, money grubbing greed from the CEO on down in each of these corporations and the failure to compete in a world economy. Simply put, we've had our asses kicked in the car world by Korea, Germany and Japan.

In the sixties American cars were hot. Chrome. Metal Fins. Big engines. The stuff wet dreams are made of.
Today's Mustang still looks a lot like the car it was back in the 60's. Evolution goes slow and steady in Detroit. When we should have been mirroring what foreign auto makers were building Ford, GM and Chrysler sat on their thumbs.
The revamped 2009 Camero in a time when everyone should be buying fuel efficient or hybrid vehicles is certain to be a loser. The new Camero has gas guzzler plastered all over it.

It seems that the attitude of a lot of fellow countrymen is to let the Big Three fail and either cash in their chips, close the doors and fire all the help or file for bankruptcy. All of those solutions will cause ripples along the foundation of America which I believe will further devastate our economy.

Wifey and I hold a lot of stock in Ford and GM. We'd lose the sum total of our investment should Ford and GM go bankrupt or if they completely closed down. In the big picture that's a small price to pay compared to the thousands of workers who would lose their jobs. That's a small price to pay in terms of the losses of the other companies that Ford and GM owe money. And this is not even scratching the surface. Think about the impact on the economies of cities and businesses with in each of those cities when an automotive plant closes.

I don't think anyone has an easy solution to the problems America faces today. We only have rants about all of the bailouts and the corporate crooks who made off with all the money.

All this said, together we've made our bed. Now we have to lie in it.

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Monday, February 23, 2009


Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

Or is it Glory Hole? That's it. Whatever you call it, in Cowtown they call a hole in the ground that's used to empty a lake of excess water a Glory Hole. In other places this term has a very different meaning. Very.

Here we are on Saturday at Lake Cowtown. The Glory Hole is way above the level of the lake when it should be filling with water. That said, this lake has far more water than Shasta Lake (as proof of the difference check my 1/16/2009 post).

Saturday we had a surprise visit from two former students who had driven four hours north to see us and the kids. A visit to is part of Bob's tour package whenever we have out-of-town-visitors. I always have to show off our Glory Hole.

Here you see Rod on the left, daughter Dawn and Roland on the right. Rod and Roland are brothers. They were both great kids when they were in school. And now they're great grown-ups.

That's President Kennedy on the billboard behind them. The President dedicated Lake Cowtown just before he was assassinated. It's said that he kept Marilyn under wraps and sitting in the limo (or in the trunk) during the dedication.

Rod's first day of school in my class. He's all of six years old, maybe seven.

I take roll. I come to Rod's name who, on the roll sheet is listed as Roderick.

Me: Roderick?

Rod: Here.

Me: Being a Roderick isn't going to cut it in my class. From now on you're Rod.

Rod: (Gulp!). Oh, okay Mr. Bob.

Fortunately, even though this change of name still sticks in his mind, all of Rod's other memories of his time in my classroom were positive. He still remembers some of our art projects and how much fun we used to have every school day.

Teachers should be remembered by their students and not forgotten. After all, they are a large part of the foundation of our country.

And if you can read this, thank a teacher.

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Sunday, February 22, 2009


Wifey, the dogs and I are driving four hours south this morning to check out this Catalina 250. By the pictures e-mailed by the owner she doesn't look half bad.

The price is right. Now the boat needs to be right, too. This is one of two boats we'll look at this week. The second is located at Lake Tahoe.

After we see this boat we'll shop at Trader Joe's and then head home. At the halfway point we'll eat at a favorite restaurant, Louis Cairo's.

They serve great Italian food and a special treat called Louis Bread.

Louis or Louie bread is french bread and described on the menu as having a clove of garlic in every bite. And it does.

Here's a copy of the portion of the menu listing Louis bread:

Garlic Bread
Half Garlic

Half Louis-fresh ground garlic
Louie Bread-fresh ground garlic

Butter Toast
Half Butter Toast

Half Louie and Half Garlic

I'm not sure what I'm more excited about . . . checking out the sailboat or scarfing up on Louie bread and spaghetti and meatballs.

Breath mints anyone?

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Friday, February 20, 2009


Jakatta - American Dream (Afterlife Mix)


Here's a Friday laugh from the Unknown Comic who was always on the GS. I dare you not to laugh. Double dog dare you!


American Idol in terms of REAL honest to goodness, Apple Pie in America entertainment - - - pales in comparison to the Gong Show. Crap! All they do is sing on Idol. On the Gong Show there was a little of everything. If you ever watched you know there was a bunch of laughs with every show.

Do you think Chuck Barris really worked for the CIA? Hmmm. That could explain a lot of what was on the Gong Show.

Thursday, February 19, 2009


Lake Cowtown is but a ten minute drive from the house. I did that yesterday to check the lake level knowing that 16 inches of rain had fallen there since the 21st of February.

You're seeing less than an eighth of the lake here. It stretches from the left and around a bend for miles.

Yesterday I also checked out the berth we've reserved for the sailboat. The gates into each of the three sets of docks are locked and only those with the combination can get inside.

No one was around any of the boats. It was quiet, peaceful and cold. Too cold to be out on the lake.

I spend about 10 minutes on the dock when I see a guy coming down the hill like he was on a mission. It had to be Dockmaster Bob and it was. Bob lives near the docks and takes on the duty of making certain that no one is on them unless they've rented a slip. I like guys whose first names are Bob. Makes it easy to remember who the hell I'm talking to.

We have a nice talk about boats with holding tanks that contain toilet waste (not allowed on the lake, says Bob) and porta-potty's which are also not allowed by the Forest Service. This sounds pretty stupid to me me since most of the boats on the lake no doubt have one of the other of the two. The marina doesn't have a pump to empty holding tanks. Bob also says that you'd better not be caught carrying a porta-potty on the dock or there's a fat fine in store.

I'm thinking this is literally a bunch of shit. I go home and check the regulations that I signed off on in leasing the slip. Nope, no mention of holding tanks or porta-potty restrictions.

Most Bob's are full of B.S. They make things up a lot of the time. Bob's eyes are brown because he is full of shit. It takes a Bob to know one.

I call the Forest Service. Voice mail, how I hate it. No return call in 24 hours from the person in charge of lake poop. What part of public servant don't public servants get anyway? Once I get this person on the phone and she (yes, she) cops an attitude about a boat with a toilet I'm going to say, "Lady, don't give me any shit." That would the appropriate thing to say given the topic, don't you think?

You're wondering what people do that get the urge to "duty" while boating. The Forest Service have installed six to eight little floating outhouses on the lake. You sail up, get off, do your duty and get back on the boat. That's fine for ski and paddle around boats. What about the rest of us with our own on board outhouses?

I'll figure something out.

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Wednesday, February 18, 2009


Dad would say in the midst of one of his pissed off rages, "I'm going to knock some sense into your head!"

After Dad knocked what he thought was sense into my head I didn't feel any smarter than I did before he did that.

Hello Dad? I just banged the hell out of my head in the garage and feel just as senseless as I have always felt. Duh.

Wifey was sympathetic last night over my slip, slide, knock the head episode. Mine was a raging headache that wouldn't stop. We have like killer pain drugs left over from this and that. Even they wouldn't stop the pain. So I asked Wifey if I could take the cure.

Okay, the cure. Blue Sapphire up. A New York steak. No veggies. Only cow sushi. I'm ready for the cure.

VOILA! Today it's all roses. No headache. Feeling great. Bob is ready to hit his head again to qualify for another steak dinner, hold the veggies and mass consumption of Blue Sapphire.

Cow sushi and Blue Sapphire: It's good for what ails ya.


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Tuesday, February 17, 2009


At the start of every day:

Get out of bed. Open the garage door. Pick up the newspapers in the driveway. Go back in and read the papers.

This morning it's raining cats and dogs . Raining cats and dogs sounds like this:



So as not to get really wet I run out to pick up the papers, pick them up, and run back into the garage.

Bob the Dumb Shit forgot that bare feet on our garage floor makes for a slippery surface. I slip, fall, hit my head on the rear bumper of Wife's car with one elbow trying to make a dent in the concrete floor. Nothing broken except for a blasting head and neck ache.

Busting my ass this morning was an interesting way to start out a Tuesday and served as a reminder not to run in the house or in the garage. There are reasons for rules, you know.

It has rained nearly non stop for just about a week. We've gotten well over 7 inches of rainfall at the house. All of the precipitation this past week doesn't mean the drought is over. But it does mean the run-off is adding water to the lakes and the snow that's falling in the surrounding mountains will eventually add water, too.

I'll bet the fish are happy.

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Monday, February 16, 2009



It's been a while since there's been a post on how and why Bob keeps chasing his tail and never comes up with a sailboat.

If you know Bob then you know that he never gives up the ship. It may be slow but it's steady as we go, my mates. Loose faith in ye old skipper and I'll have thee walking the plank!

Arrr! Harrrr!

Here's the latest. It's a Lake Tahoe boat and only sailed on that body of water. No need to worry about salt water corrosion. This boat, a 2000 model Catalina 250, has not been sailed for two years and is sitting in dry storage.


How utterly appropriate.

Next steps: Travel to Lake Tahoe next weekend, weather permitting, check her out and go from there.

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Friday, February 13, 2009


Wednesday was Wifey Party Day.

Grace loved the card she bought for Wifey. There's something about a cat with a ciggie in its mouth that tickles the funny bone.

Grace laughed and laughed and laughed.
In this picture Dawn just had to hold up the mouse pad I had made for Wifey. It was taken in November on Grace's sixth birthday.
One candle on the cake was plenty. Why put all of them on the cake and burn the house down?

Wifey, with Grace's help, made a Gluten free cake that was sandwiched with coffee ice cream and chocolate covered nuts.
Son Max, held hostage by love and work in Seoul, Fed-Ex'ed a plant to Wifey: White Narcissus or Paper Whites.

They're a particular favorite of Wifey's as White Narcissus once grew in her grandmother's yard.

At the end of her special day Wifey was all smiles.

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Wednesday, February 11, 2009



Zeenie is a trained and certified pet therapy dog. Both Zeen and Wifey visit assisted care facilities, hospitals and schools. There's nothing like a warm fuzzy puppy to help chase the blues and the hurts away.

Saturday the pair were part of a therapy dog exhibition at the Cowtown Mall. Here you see them manning (puppying?) the local pet therapy organization booth.

It's Wifey's birthday today. We'll have breakfast out this morning. Grace has ballet late afternoon. When she's finished with her lesson there will be dinner out for the three of us and along with some of the kids. Dessert, birthday cards and presents will be at our home right after dinner.

It will be, as in this picture, a SAY CHEESE! sort of day.

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Tuesday, February 10, 2009


Live on the Grammy's Red Carpet Sunday night. TV Guide seemed to have the best and liveliest coverage.

I forgot the name of the guy in the hat but I liked what was on his head, the glasses, the coat, the hair and of course, the bling 'cause if you ain't got the bling then you ain't no thing. I just had to snap these photos.

People that display their personalities like this guy . . . it's a good thing. So he must have a name to go with it. Right? I just forget what it is.

Musicians these days have interesting names. It's not like back in the day where you might change your real name to something memorable.

If I were to start recording my music I'd have to have a special name. Got that all picked out before I even got my band and my bling together.

Got the name all picked out: Z-Bobby-OH! and the Sixth Street Enema Douche Bag Band.

Yup. With my new career and given the choice I'd be looking less than the cracker I am and more like this guy. I never ever really liked being white. First off, my cracker ass white skin burns easily in the summer sun. If I were of color getting sunburned easily would no longer happen.

There would be glasses. The hair, lots of it. The hat would have to be big and very special. You get the picture. Z-Bobby-OH! would, in himself, be a work of art.

It would be a beautiful thing, man.

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Saturday, February 07, 2009


In the photo one part was right: Mom gave me enemas as kid. I HATED IT!

As a seven year old kid it got to the point that I became constipated as hell. We're talking being backed up big time.

Like other kids my age, it was hell using the toilet at school. Other kids would climb up and over the stall walls, peer in and make faces and noise. And everything would stop right then and there. Regularity had to be put off until I got home late afternoon. But by then it was a "no go", bad timing with lots of time sitting on the John with no result.

I made the mistake of telling mom about my problems. First it was prunes and lots of them. They didn't work.

Lots of water, mom said, might help. I nearly drown with what mom forced me to drink. That didn't work.

Then mom pulls out a red bag with a white hose.

Me: What's that?

Mom: This is something that is going to help you not be blocked up. Come into the bathroom.

Like a lamb to slaughter I followed mom into the bathroom. I was seven. What did I know about bags with hoses on them.

Mom: Okay, pants down and bend over the bathtub.

Me: Huh? I don't think so, mom. First tell me what you're going to do?

Mom: Never mind the "I don't think so" and just do what I tell you to do. I'm going to help you by putting one end of the hose in you, the water will seep into you and then you'll go poo-poo. There's really nothing to it.

Me: Hmmm. I'll really go poo-poo and feel better?

Mom: Yup.

Me: Okay but tell me where the end of the hose goes.

Mom: That would be in the butt, Bob.

I remember one time mom filled me up with water and nothing happened. I sloshed around the house for nearly an hour before I expelled all that dam water.

Mom became fanatic about giving me enemas. I'm not sure if it really was for my good or if mom enjoyed sticking that damn hose up my butt. Maybe it was both.

It finally got to the point where I lied about being regular. To get out of being "hosed" I'd brag to mom about the huge dumps I took at school when in fact I was just as plugged up as I ever was. At least it got mom off of my back and and this type of water torture stopped. Bending over a bathtub while your mom runs a hose up you ass isn't the type of relationship any guy wants to have with his mom.

I sometimes see these enema bags on the pharmacy shelves. I wince a little, then grin and think of mom. To this day Wifey will all of sudden touch my butt and I flinch big time. Then I think about why I just flinched.

Ahh, the memories.

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Friday, February 06, 2009


The best dog ever went to the vet's for a check up the second week of January 2008. She never came home. Long story short and without going into the horrible details, Jilli died a horrible death 4 days later. If you'd like the details go back to January's posts in 2008.

Several months later Wifey purchases (for more money than I wish to admit) and brings a dog home who's much like our Jilli. It was a necessary purchase . . . a purchase needed to help fill the gaping hole in our hearts left by Jilli's passing.

So we buy a dog that has one of those fru-fru dog breeder names. If you watch any dog show and there's the Westminster show this next weekend, you know that breeders/trainers come up with the stupidest names possible.

She's a champion with champion lines. With that comes the name of Cast A Spell. What the hell kind of name is that for a dog? Cast A Spell smacks of witchcraft, soccery and the dark side of life.

Dogs are supposed to have names like Lassie, Rin-Tin-Tin, Fido and so on. Cast A Spell is not the name of any dog I've ever known. At the time I wondered what would be call her for short?

There was no keeping that name. Wifey asked for my ideas and there was only one: Zinnia - a flower of a dog. Bright. Vibrant. Colorful.

Zeen or Zeenie for short. These names suits her well.

Interestingly, Zeenie took up where Jilli left off.
She's taken up a prominent place in my office, the leather reclining chair. It was a favorite place for Jilli, too.

But unlike Jilli, Zeen, while occupying this chair, prefers to sleep on her back, legs in the air. Her eyes roll back in her head. She snores a bit. Total relaxation. Total trust that there's nothing to be afraid of. It's a blissful sight.

Like Jilli, Zeenie has learned the sounds of my office. One sound in particular is the squeak the keyboard drawer makes when I push it in as I finish working at the computer.

Hearing that squeak Zeenie, as did Jilli, sits up and waits to follow me out of the office knowing there's another adventure for the two us just waiting to happen.

That's what best friends are for.

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Thursday, February 05, 2009


Next week is Wifey's birthday. Here's last a photo of last years birthday celebration.

Wifey, Dawn, Grace and Zoe the Pom who'd love five minutes alone with the cake.

Yesterday's birthday planning conversation:

Wifey: You're not getting me anything for my birthday, are you?

She always does this. Christmas. Birthday. Anniversary. Valentine's Day. You name, Wifey will say she doesn't want anything. That's why I never ask what she wants for any of those occasions. I already know the answer to my question. Why ask, I ask myself?

Me: With less than a week before your next birthday you're asking a question like that?

Wifey: Well, I just wondered.

Me: It's a done deal. I've shopped, bought and wrapped your birthday gifts.

Wifey: Oh.

You see, I'm not one of those guys who wait for the last moment to shop then run around the mall like a chicken with its head cut off looking for that all elusive, perfect gift. I think ahead. From one birthday to the next I listen to what Wifey thinks she needs or wants or desires. I'm good about remembering.

I'm also not a guy to say, "Okay Wifey, what do you want for your birthday?" That just ruins it. I hate being asked what I want for Christmas or for a birthday. There's no fun in being asked what you want or told what gifts you might buy.

If I did ask her what she'd like for her birthday I do know one thing Wifey will never say she'd like to have:

"That would be in the butt, Bob."

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Wednesday, February 04, 2009


Got any bad habits? One my many is rolling through red lights and stop signs. Why now? Rolling through saves gas and wear and tear on the brakes.

There's a favorite stop sign of mine that I never stop at and just roll through it. It's at the dead end of a street that intersects a avenue that runs by the backside of City Hall.

I figure why stop if I look to the left when I'm turning right? Since it's a dead end no one is coming at me or turning into my path. It's just what's on the left I need to look for. Why stop?

Yesterday I roll through my favorite roll through stop sign. As I round the corner after blowing the stop there sits two motorcycle cops.

As I pass by one shakes his head at me. You know, the shake of the head that indicates disbelief.
The cop other waves.

I smile, wave back, let out a sigh of relief and start thinking about making my favorite roll through stop a complete stop on every visit from now on.

Knowing that I'll get some grief I wait until today to tell Wifey about my rolling stop, wave at the cops, not get a ticket experience.

Wifey: You dumb shit! You didn't stop?! I always stop.

Wifey makes me feel like I'm in first grade and like she just caught me taking cuts in the lunch line.

I never call Wifey names but for some reason she feels comfortable with calling me a dumb shit. Just like in first grade I want to say back, I know you are but what am I?!

So there.

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Tuesday, February 03, 2009


To sail on there's no need for a sailboat.

If you're caught like a sewer rat or caught like a crust of bread, remember:

Sail on, sail on sailors.


I hate cleaning the bathrooms. We have two, actually three if you count the little area where I go outside (ladies, it's a guy thing). Clean the sink, the floor, the counter, mirror, toilet. With the right music I can get a bathroom done in 5 minutes and 25 seconds.

I twirl. I bop. I dirty dance. I get my grind on. Before I know it, VOILA! Clean bathroom.

Ready. Set. Play. And clean!



Newly Wed Game, Bob Eubanks. Dude would ask the funniest, the stupidest, the least tactful, most gross, inappropriate questions on any game show ever.

Real story:


Newly Wed Wife: That would be in the butt, Bob.

So a teacher who used to work for me . .. we were like friends and kidded each other a lot. When I'd ask her a professional question she'd often come up with a funny answer like this:

Me: I just reviewed your lesson plans. Where would you like me to put them?

Teacher: That would be in the butt, Bob.

Needless to say, this teacher loved to watch the Newly Wed Game. Her humor still lingers. It was only last week when:

Wifey: I'm feeling so very close to you and soooo very romantic. Where would you like to fool around?

Me: That would be in the butt, Wifey.

Wifey fumes and stomps off. There are times in a marriage when humor and butt insinuations just don't cut it. But I'll still use that line. Just wait and see.

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Whiskeytown Lake, Very Northern California, United States