The Nonsense Continues...

...from the usual suspects at the History Channel.

Talk about irony - apparently they can't even define what history is, so here's a little help:

In other words, it's what happened.

Period.

It's immutable and not open to revision, ideological or otherwise.

Granted, 'twould be nice to go back and change it from time to time, but apart from the realm of sci-fi, no can do.

Unless - evidently - you work for the History Channel, in which case the past can morph into whatever your current politically correct sickness demands:

"Ah yes, I well remember watching those 1976 Olympics as a young man living in Maine.

"Boxers Sugar Ray Leonard, Michael and Leon Spinks, discus champion Mac Wilkins and of course, world class decathlete Caitlyn Jenner.

"What a glorious sight she was in her skirt and high heels, clutching her pearls while summoning her inner Bruce to sprint, jump, hurdle, throw, run and pole vault her way to a new world record and Olympic gold in the men's decathlon.

"Now Where O Where did she leave that pesky Y chromosome?

"No matter, I'm sure it will turn up; it's always in the last place you look (by definition, actually).

"Sadly, we must take our leave of fantasyland now and return to harsh reality.

"As we go, remember Bugs Bunny's eternal question:"

a little war time humor

Definitely not.

In the Melancholia department:

We are A) in the last third of meteorological summer...

...and B) will lose about 75 minutes of daylight this month.

"A falling leaf is summer waving farewell."

      - Anonymous (if no one claims authorship, I'm going to)

In fact, this past weekend was the last sunset after 9pm for 2025 in our neck of the woods.

By September 10th, sunset will be 8pm.

Now don't think of this as me raining on your parade...

...but rather encouraging you to get moving and enjoy outdoor life as much as you possibly can BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

Do NOT waste your time staring at screens, whether they reside in your palm...

...on your desktop...

...or in your living room:

Life is NOT a spectator sport.

Get in the game!

And taking my own advice, I ventured forth to the Vale of Everlasting Sorrows where I practice the black art of hickory golfery.

I'm liking my mixed pre-1900/1920's hickory playset (woods are pre-1900, irons are 1920's):

l to r: long spoon, brassie, mashie, niblick, putter

And because they are a mix, I sometimes use my golf bag as they did in the 1920's, and sometimes carry them sans bag, using the walking stick / club stand, ala the 1890's:

But as much as I enjoy swinging my hickories, my results have been less than exciting lately.

not fog, but genuine imported Canadian wildfire smoke

Thought I was breaking out of my slump today; started with a bogey and par on 1 and 2.

my birdie put on #2 when I "settled" (read: jumped for joy) for par

But then my drive on #3 just caught the upper lip of the sand trap guarding the green and spent some time playing around in the sand before admitting abject defeat and moving on.

4 and 5 were studies in incompetence on the short game, but temporarily righted the ship on 6:

tap in for par brought me back to all square

Had a good drive on 7 followed by a decent brassie to the fringe of the green, chipped to within a foot of the hole, tapped in for par and headed to 8, 1 up with 2 to go.

8 was playing as a 400 yard par 5 today (they move the tees now and then).

Lousy fade from the tee put me among the trees where I used my long spoon as a putter to get the ball back into the fairway.  Foozled my brassie for a 40 yard wasted stroke.

Now hitting 4 with my brassie, this time nice and straight and right into the trees on the left side of the fairway, 150 yards away.  I guess aiming before hitting actually does matter.

Certain the hole was now a well-deserved loss, I dragged my sorry carcass to where my ball had dropped out of the trees into the first cut of the rough.

Hitting 5 which meant if I got up and down from 50 yards away for bogey I'd win the hole and the match.

A competent (please note the missing prefix of "in") stroke with my mashie left me with this putt for bogey:

I hadn't made a putt longer than 2 feet all day, but miracles do still happen apparently, because I did in fact sink it.

This accomplished 2 things:

1) nicely illustrated Harry Vardon's principle that states "Never Despair",  -and-

2) gave me my uninspiring win.

Good thing, too, since 9 was another exercise in "creative ways to misuse golf clubs".

Hoping for better next week.

For the love of chicken gravy, let's just 23 Skidoo and be done with it!

nice to see a <former patient> doing well

conceited cat...nobody ever commissioned a portrait of me

gotta love black eyed susans and cone flowers

vanilla / strawberry hydrangeas in the vanilla stage

a dinner plate hibiscus caged by a japanese maple...

...and the more humane "free range" variety

Assuming you're vertical, able to take nourishment and aware of your surroundings, you know the perpetrators of the <Russian Collusion Hoax> are due for their comeuppance.

It will be a true delight if the criminals involved (Hillary, Obama, Brennan, Clapper and Comey to name a few of the worst offenders) really are held accountable for their crimes against this country, but sad experience has taught us not to hold our collective breath.

When Trump is the target, the media gleefully intones "No one is above the law!"

When the left's conspiracy to frame Trump in an effort to deflect attention from Hillary's compromised server and 30,000 "missing emails" is exposed by heretofore classified intelligence documents,  the complicit media are alternately loudly dismissive and strangely silent.

Even so, we are confident in this eternal truth: whether justice happens now or later, God promises it will happen:

later, mcm fans...

Primum Non Nocere...

...first, do no harm. 

Who's the old guy?

That's <Hippocrates>, a 5th century Greek physician who's credited with - among other things - propagating the concept of "first, do no harm" in the practice of medicine, and authoring the well known <Hippocratic oath>.

No doubt he did not personally compose it, but his disciples who did years later were representing his morality and attitudes toward the practice of medicine.

The original oath included this line:

Moreover, I will give no sort of medicine to any pregnant woman, with a view to destroy the child.

Notably, that line is absent from the modern version of the Hippocratic oath, rewritten in the early 1960's.

Can't be throwing stones at the profitable multi-million dollar death industry.

Missing, too, from the modern version is any sense of responsibility to the divine, limiting its scope instead to only the human sphere.

It can get awkward once you acknowledge <judgment awaits> for your actions in life.

Best to leave those theological details a bit fuzzy and soldier on as if physical life is the end all and be all.

So why do we care about any of this?

Well, if we put actual shoe leather on those three words - primum non nocere - instead of just bandying them about in the ethereal realms of philosophical debate, think how much better our world could be:

- We wouldn't be obsessed with using abortion as post-coital birth control and killing babies in utero.  Nor would we give this abominable practice the Machiavellian title of "reproductive health".

- We wouldn't have <criminal political subterfuge> undermining the will of the people.  Instead, there would be government <of the people, by the people, for the people>.

- We wouldn't allow men to beat on women under the protection of organized sports, pretending they somehow traded their Y chromosome for an X via surgery, chemistry or just by wishing it so.

The list goes on and on and on - it's woven into the fabric our sad history and will continue as the warp and woof of our depressing future - but it doesn't have to be that way in your little corner of the world.

Nor in mine.

First, do no harm.

Was looking through my old high school yearbook the other day and came across this picture of me before the big game:

We'd just gotten new uniforms so all of us felt pretty special.

What?  You don't think that's me in high school?

Fine, it's Jim Thorpe in 1912, November 9th, the day of the big game against Army at West Point.

The Carlisle Indians head coach, Pop Warner, took a moment to remind them of some history and the importance of this game:

"Your fathers and your grandfathers are the ones who fought their fathers.

"These men playing against you today are soldiers.

"They are the Long Knives.  You are Indians.

"Tonight, we will know if you are warriors."

Jim Thorpe and the Carlisle Indians...

...crushed Dwight D. Eisenhower - yes, that Dwight D. Eisenhower along with eight other future generals - and the Army Cadets team, 27-6.

How sweet it was.

Now no complaints, you've had some time off...at least a couple of weeks.

Besides, if anyone should be complaining, it's me for the way I'm playing recently.

Last week I managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory on the 9th hole.

All square after 8, and none to happy about it; 4 bogeys against 4 double bogeys, so not my best round.

Even so, I just needed to bogey the par 3 #9 for an unexciting 1 up win.

Mashie to the left side of the green...niblick over the green...niblick onto the green, 5 feet from the hole.

That's 3, so putting 4 for the win...2 inches to the right, and why do I play this game again?

This week was equally unexciting, but hey...this time there are pictures:

my birdie putt on #4 that I skillfully turned into a bogey.

my birdie putt on #5...

...but this time I carded the only par I had today

So once again it came down to the 9th hole.

Mashie in front of the green, niblick 6 feet from the pin, maddening 2 putt for bogey which in my incompetent world, passes for a win.

Sometimes this feels more like a confession than a recounting of my hickory golfing exploits.

And while I usually enjoy a little solitude, a little exercise and a pleasant stroll through the countryside...with today's heat, humidity and bugs, it was more like a tiresome slog through a mosquito infested jungle.

Hoping for better next week.

A brief jaunt through 23 Skidoo land:

 a beautiful bouquet from Karen's gardens

recent escapee from Meijer Gardens

some "up north" serenity courtesy of Larry

hibiscus continue blooming...

...gracing us with their beauty

Our drought conditions continue, as we're getting about a half inch of rain every 2 or 3 weeks...nowhere near enough.

Couple that with temps in the 90's and dewpoints in the 70's, and it's been unpleasant lately.

But as Karen reminded me recently, in 6 months we'll be doing the same thing then that we are now: complaining about the weather...only then it will be due to cold and snow and ice.

At least we don't have to shovel sunshine.

So...attitude adjustment time with some help from God's Word:

16  Rejoice evermore.

17  Pray without ceasing.

18  In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.

  - I Thessalonians 5:16-18

later, mcm fans...

Let's Play "What's My Theme"...

...anyone care to guess? 

Yessir, you in the back...

...you look dishonest and rich (odd how often those two bump into each other in a sentence) yet fairly bright.

Please state your guess.

Time?

Well yes, sort of...a calendar and a clock, you're definitely in the neighborhood.

Maybe a closer look will stimulate those brain cells:

Anyone else?

Yes, you sir...

...no need to yell, but you're getting warmer:

Not just time but the passage of time.

Better, but not quite there yet.

Not to put too fine a point on it, perhaps this will help:

Now, who wants to take a whack at -

Ding ding ding!

Correct, sir!

It's a crisis because we're officially past the halfway point of meteorological summer!

Time is racing past at break neck speed while the days are actually conspiring against us and intentionally getting shorter!

Those dirty dogs!  I mean days!

You know what to do!

if your parents had one of these, please go stand in the corner.  I'll join you when I'm done with this blog entry.

Well, no...that seems a bit extreme, but it is absolutely the right time to panic!

Who cares if the zombie apocalypse has nothing to do with the issue at hand and is little more than a fictional creation of a fevered adolescent imagination?

The eerie red color palette, the threatening figures staggering mindlessly closer while reinforcements claw their way out of their earthy graves...this is the apotheosis of <arte de tiras cómicas de terror>!

I say it belongs here, rock solid on the hallowed ground of my first amendment rights and there is nothing you can say or do that will change my mind!

Now, what were we talking about again?

Oh right, that whole "summer is slipping through our fingers" thing.

So, like, get out there do stuff, ok?

Get off your collective butts and get after it before...

...yeah, that.

a grim reminder of what's lurking in our future

Last week I included some pictures of our bonus room ceiling:

that's either old sheep intestines...

...or sprayed insulation...

...but either way it's very ugly and needed to be covered.

What a difference a week makes:

gotta love tongue and groove pine boards...

...they look great...

...and they smell good, too.

Great work courtesy of #1 grandson and his company, <Wild Hare Woodworking, LLC>.

He's got a little bit of trim work left, but it's 1000% improved over what it used to be.

Thank you, Marcellus!

As I'm sure you know, this weekend they played "The Open".

Considered the oldest continuous golf tournament in the world, both its prestige and place in history are unmatched.

On this side of the pond we tend to qualify it as "The British Open", distinguishing it from our own "U.S. Open".

But that my friends is sacrilege to our European brethren.

The Open is the Grandaddy of them all, and the winner inherits the title of "Champion Golfer of the Year".

There have been many winners in its 153 iterations - a few skips in there because of wars, etc - but historically none have been as dominant as "The Great Triumvirate":

left to right, James Braid, J.H. Taylor, Harry Vardon

Between them they won 16 Opens in a 21 year span, from 1894 through 1914.

Put another way, in that 21 year span there were only 5 other golfers who won the Claret Jug - 

-  besides Braid, Taylor and Vardon.

Braid and Taylor each won 5.

Vardon stands alone at the top to this day as the only man who's ever won 6:

1896, 1898, 1899*, 1903, 1911, 1914* 

So who etched their name onto to this iconic trophy...

...and into the history books with a win at Royal Portrush in northern Ireland this year?

Scottie Scheffler, world's #1 and now officially -

* per the time honored tradition of The Open *

- "Champion Golfer of the Year".

* the gutta percha ball era

* the Haskell / modern ball era

And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, it's time to 23 Skidoo...

sadly, this is the last of our tiger lilies...

...but thankfully the hibiscus have arrived...

...just in the nick of time.

they were kind enough to bring some friends along...lilies, black eyed susans...

...gladioloas...

...rose of sharon...

...and hydrangeas on the hill.

and yes, I swapped out the ratty old flags for brand new "U.S. Flags" on my greens.

A tip o' the hat to what has to be one of, if not THE greatest technological achievements of mankind; and it happened on July 20th, 1969:

left to right: Armstrong, Collins, Aldrin

Fifty six years ago Neil Armstrong stepped down from the lunar landing module ladder and onto the surface of the moon - the first human being to ever set foot on a celestial orb other than planet earth.

His words - "That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind" - stand in history as the oral signature of this unprecedented event.

As amazing as it was then - and still is today - it serves as a reminder of this larger eternal truth:

1  "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth His handywork.

2  "Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge.

3  "There is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard."

  - Psalms 19:1-3

later, mcm fans...