Tuesday, May 27, 2014


There you go. One year older. One would think that at some point in a persons life counting birthdays woould become meaningless – except as an understanding tool for increasing  insurances rates and the turning of shoulders from the “younger” crowd.

Still, one counts them.

And on Memorial Day at that.

My mail box post was delivered, the rail road tie, and then taken away again. Renter did the swap for the real one when I jumped him about the massive timber being over kill. I’ll get the real one this evening.

Now all I must do is wait for the area post mistress to come survey the local routes and approve a placement. I hope she has common sense and allows me to place it to the east of the house.

I’ve noticed that dra-mama has basically the same problem he chastised Bush for. Dra-mama’s problem in Nigeria is the same as Bush’s with captives: ;Now that you have them what are you going to do with them.

I mean, dra-mama knows where the girls are, but how’s he going to get to them? He can tell someone else and tell the world we found them. He can pull Russia and go get them, probably kill half or better as the Russians did in the theater hostage freeing. Or, he can simply walk away.

We might have been better off if we had ignored the whole thing.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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2 Responses to Tuesday, May 27, 2014

  1. Spot says:

    I made note when you mentioned your natal date two weeks hence, only to then space it. Feeble mind. Don’t do drugs, kids. At least not when you’re a kid. Happy belated, Mate.

  2. tenwhiskey says:

    ”Lo, Spot. No problem with forgetting dates. About the only reason I remember it is my mother told me, the government keeps asking it, ever time I write a check they want to know, and the latest is the medical people want to know, insist to know and, parish the action,, redact my name from appointment schedules if I refuse to give it, labelling me non-cooperative.

    Which, I suppose, is the same as being a conservative or a tea partyer.

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